by Jamie Knight
I usually had a pretty good bullshit detector but he had somehow slipped past. Or maybe he didn't. It was just possible that he did actually like me but didn't want to go any further, which I supposed was fair enough, no matter how much it might hurt.
I decided right then and there not to think about it.
That was the plan, anyway. No matter how I tried, I couldn't keep him from coming back into my mind. Particularly how good he had made me feel up on the roof. I loved it so much and felt like we had really connected.
He did everything just right, including licking my pussy which could be a bit of a challenge, because I was so sensitive, but it hadn't hurt at all. I was just filled with pure pleasure. The more I tried to forget about him, the more thoughts of him would intrude.
I needed some back up.
“Hello,” Gia said, as soon as she picked up the phone when I called.
“Hey, G!” I said.
“Uh oh,” Gia said.
“Uh oh, what?” I asked.
“You only calls me G when shit gets real,” Gia said.
“Oh, right.”
“Known you for years, remember?”
“Yep,” I said.
“So, what's up?”
“You know Mike?”
“Of course, he's one of Reece's best friends.”
“What do you think of him?” I asked.
“Not sure, I've always thought he was a bit aloof, why?”
“I -”
“You fucked him?”
“Yeah,” I confessed.
“Where?”
“In the mouth and the pussy,” I said.
“No I mean -”
“Oh, on the rooftop of his apartment building.”
“Kinky!”
“I didn't even tell you about the cake,” I said, blushing.
“You didn’t.”
“We did,” I said.
“Including on your pussy?”
“And my tits and on his cock,” I said.
“How was it?”
“Amazing,” I said, with a sigh.
“How did that come about?” she asked.
“It just sort of happened. He ordered a cake, or had his sister actually, so that I didn’t get suspicious, in the hopes that I would deliver it. He had this whole lovely meal set up with Chinese lanterns and the whole bit on the roof and one thing just kind of led to another.”
“Wasn't it cold out?” Gia asked.
“Not that I noticed,” I said.
“Your mind was on other things?” I asked.
“You could say that,” I said, smiling at the memory.
“But you’re not sure you want to see him again?” Gia asked.
“No, the opposite. I want to see him again. More than anything if I'm honest but he seems to think that the whole thing was a fling. Nothing wrong with that, I guess.”
“Bullshit,” Gia said immediately.
“What?”
“You don't really think that is okay. You are feeling really hurt.”
“How did -”
“I've been there, babe. Remember when I told you I was pregnant?”
“Of course.”
“I was in a similar headspace. It took so long for Reece and me to sort each other out that we nearly missed our chance.”
“So what are you saying?” I asked.
“Don't fuck around. If you want to know what is going on ask him. Tell him how your feel and what you want and see what he says.”
“That's one way to go about it,” I said.
“It is risky but most direct,” Gia said.
“How are things going with the pregnancy?” I asked, grasping for a change of subject.
“Pretty good. My back and boobs hurt most of the time but the hormones are doing wonderful things for my sensitivity and has made sex with Reece even better.”
“You can still do that?” I asked.
“For a little while longer, yeah, and so we’re trying to make the most of the time,” Gia said
“I bet. How many times a day?” I asked.
“Oh, at least a couple. I’m so glad he is working less and has a lot more time now.”
“Nice.”
“Yeah, it is,” she said.
I was envious of what Gia had with Reece. They really seemed to love each other and by all accounts, had a great sex life. They even had a baby on the way.
I really wanted what they had but not with Mike. He really didn't seem like husband or daddy material. He was clearly disinterested in all the baby stuff at the baby shower. That was why he had hung out with me in the kitchen.
I’d thought it was also because he liked me. But obviously he was just trying to get in my pants, never to see me again after that.
I tried again to forget about him. I had heard that a good way to forget an emotional entanglement was to throw oneself into work. Granted, it was in the play The Cocktail Party by T.S. Eliot, in which nothing ends well for anyone but that didn't mean it couldn't work in principle.
My plan was turning out pretty well because we were going into the holiday seasons and the orders kept pouring in. Most of them were standard, like the retirement party that wanted a design of an actual gold watch, while others were a bit weirder, like the graduation ceremony for morticians that wanted one of those table length cakes designed like a miniature cemetery, compete with teeny-tiny headstones and mausoleums. I took a picture of that one as a momento before sending it out for delivery.
I was coming in to start working on a cake I was decorating when I noticed a box on my work table. It was one of those big, white dress boxes, complete with a red bow. I was more scared than surprised, fairly certain I had locked the door the night before.
Carefully undoing the ribbon, I slowly lifted the lid off the box. Clearing away the blue paper, I found folded neatly in the box an adorable pink New York Ranger's hockey jersey. On it lay a small envelope.
I picked up the envelope and opened it. Inside was an engraved invitation to skybox seat for that night's game, along with a ticket. There was no signature, but I figured it must be from Mike.
Putting the envelope back on the jersey, I replaced the lid and took the box over the garbage can, tossing it in. Turning on my heel, I set to the work of the day, completely driving all thoughts of the box and Mike from my mind. For about five minutes.
No matter what I tried. I couldn’t get him out of my mind.
I retrieved the box from the garbage can, telling myself it was because the jersey was genuinely cute and I was only going to the game to confront Mike and tell him to stop fucking with me. I didn't want to admit it at first but Gia had been right; the direct approach really was best.
Chapter Five - Mike
I had really splurged. That was a subjective idea considering my income bracket but I was really trying to impress. If the booking site offered an add on or a perk, I took it.
I closed the door behind me and sat on the luxurious leather chair in the Lexus level luxury seating and waited for the game to start. I checked my phone to see if Sally had texted before I remembered she didn't actually have my phone number.
Instead I got on the area's complimentary Wi-Fi and made sure all my stocks were still where they were supposed to be. It was a tick I had developed after my uncle had left me some stocks when I was fourteen.
All was present and accounted for and I checked my email. There was one there from Ava asking me to call her.
“What's up?” she asked.
“I could ask you the same question,” I said. Cynical as I was trying to be at the time, I always had time for my baby sister. The only woman I would admit that I loved, now that our mom was gone.
“Is she there?” Ava asked.
“Not yet,” I said.
“You think she will be?”
“Hard to tell,” I said, giving away nothing.
“Do you want her to?” Ava ask
ed.
“Yes,” I admitted.
“That's an improvement,” she said, still managing to sound non-judgmental.
“Yeah,” I said, again amazed by her ability to cut to the heart of things.
“I hope she does,” Ava said.
“Thanks,” I said, trying my best not to cry.
“Gotta go,” I said, when the national anthem started up.
“Let me know how it goes,” Ava said.
“Will do,” I said.
I pocketed the phone and took a deep breath waiting for the ice to clear and the players to enter from the locker room.
“Sorry I'm late.”
I nearly jumped, not sure she would actually come but there she was, wearing the jersey I had custom made for her. I had seen her size on the tag of her shirt. I had a good memory for such things. I had looked her up online to get her last name to have it printed on the back with her favorite number, seven. Like I said, really trying to impress.
“It's okay,” I said, going to meet her. The seats were on the aisle so I said, “the seats are down here.”
“Okay.”
I took her by the hand and led her down to the seats and she let me without a modicum of protest. I kept hold of her hand and she seemed fine with this despite some initial awkwardness.
It made sense really. I had been a bit of a jerk. I could tell by her reaction that I had hurt her and could understand if she was a bit wary. I certainly would have been.
“I loved the cake, by the way,” I whispered to her as the game started. “It’s like I can still taste it.”
She looked at me shocked and then eased into a soft smile, complimented by a gentle crimson hue on her cheeks. I would have kissed her if she would let me but didn't want to push it. Though she didn't take her hand away, which I took as a good sign.
We watched the Rangers getting their asses kicked by Boston to the dismay of the hometown crowd, who seemed one opposition goal away from throwing things on the ice. I just consoled myself that New York didn't have a massive history for hockey riots.
The only happy people in the arena that night were Sally and me. While the area stayed cold, things between us thawed considerably. By half time she had her head on my shoulder and both of her hands in my jacket, ostensibly to keep them warm, though I had my suspicions.
I put my arm around her in response and she hummed contentedly, sweetly nuzzling my neck. I kissed her tenderly on the forehead, making her giggle and snuggle against me even harder. I could feel her tits pressing against my arm, even through the thick fabric of the jersey and whatever she was wearing under it. My guess was probably a tee shirt.
Just thinking about it made me think about what had happened with the cake again, particularly at the beginning. How nice her tits had been and how good the cake had tasted on them. I didn't say anything at the time, but she was a really skilled baker and I was honestly a bit disappointed when she said I wasn't getting another one, even as a joke.
The Rangers were pounded 5-2 but I couldn't have been happier. I had managed to see Sally again and she seemed to have forgiven me for how we had left things.
Sure, she had said she had agreed with me, but her flinch had spoken volumes. People could misrepresent their feelings with words but unconscious reactions were just that and tended to tell the truth more than we did.
The limo met us outside Madison Square Garden, pulling right up to the curb. Gingerly coming around to the other side of the car, the driver opened the passenger side door for us.
“Thanks,” Sally said, getting in the back first.
“Rickard's,” I said, before getting in behind her.
The snuggles continued in the limo, Sally getting very close very fast. Which was kind of nice, considering how cold it was. I also just liked the feel of her. I considered popping one of the many bottles of very nice champagne I kept in the limo but didn't want to get too tipsy too fast.
“Where are we going?” Sally asked.
“Rickard's, my favorite restaurant,” I said.
“You were able to get us a reservation at Rickard's?” Sally asked, seeming genuinely amazed. “That place is always completely booked up.”
“I have some powerful friends,” I said.
“Cool. I won’t tell Gia. She hates that kind of stuff.”
“Sorry,” I cringed.
“It’s fine,” she laughed. “She considers it pompous. I consider it awesome.”
The limo pulled into one of the VIP spots right up next to the door, even closer than the government sanctioned disabled parking spots. Yet another example of things can’t be right but can still be true.
“Mr. Gaspin, welcome, sir,” the hostess said as we walked in.
“Thank you, Sarah, is my table ready?”
“Certainly, right this way,” Sarah said, leading the way into the dining area.
The table was practically in its own area. Made of dark walnut, it had a single red candle burning in the middle.
Sally's jersey clearly went against the usual dress code but it wouldn't be the first time they had bent the rules for me. On balance, it was more important to keep me happy and coming back than to follow the rules to a tee.
“I've always wondered what it was like in here,” she remarked.
“Does it live up to your expectations?” I asked.
“And then some,” she agreed.
“Glad to hear it.”
“You're not trying to buy me back, are you?” she asked.
“No, not directly. I want you to be happy and have a good time. The money involved is more of a facilitating factor rather than a means in and of itself.”
“Huh,” she said.
“What?”
“That was a much more thoughtful answer that I expected.”
“Thanks?”
“I think that came out wrong,” I said.
“It's okay, I think I understand and frankly I don't blame you. I certainly don't give off the impression of being an intellectual. Smart, sure, I've created apps from nothing but that's not the same as being thoughtful.”
“Meta-thinking,” Sally said.
“Thinking about thinking, exactly,” I said.
“I took psych when I got into college.”
“That makes sense,” I said.
“Because I ended up a lowly baker?”
“There is nothing lowly about bakers, especially not the way you do it. You have a genuine talent,” I said.
“Thanks,” Sally said, blushing again.
She was really cute when she was flustered.
“The reason it makes sense you took psych is that you can use the term meta-thinking correctly. It isn't exactly a common term.”
“Ah, right. Can I ask how you know about it?”
“I read a lot,” I said, “a habit I picked up in elementary school. I didn't have many friends at least until high school and even then, it was the guys I'm still friends with now.”
“Interesting, you never struck me as a loner.”
“I wouldn't say a loner, really. I just tended to annoy, confuse or scare most people.”
“Scare? Scare how?”
“I went through a bit of a goth phase. Even though I was also a geek. If the computer thing hadn't worked out, I'd had a back-up plan of being a librarian or comic book creator. It got a bit weird,” I said.
“Sounds like it, but at least you got through it, right?”
“Exactly,” I said, “it also gave Simon and me a lot to talk about. The reading anyway. Derek and Reece kind of came along with him in a weird sort of package deal.”
“As is often the case, particularly in high school,” she said.
“Do you have any other friends from back then, besides Gia?” I asked.
“Not really. I had friends then and have friends now but Gia, and to a lesser degree Maya are really the only hold overs, though I only recently started to get closer t
o Maya and that was through Gia.”
“I see.”
“I wonder why we didn't get menus,” Sally remarked.
“I already ordered,” I said.
“You what?”
“It is a thing you can do. They know my preferences already. I took a guess as to yours, going by what you ate most of during our roof-top dining experience. I hope you don’t find that pretentious or too assuming. I was trying to be suave and skip the ordering stage, like we’re such important guests that they just waltz our food right out without us having to tell them what we want. Sometimes I have bad ideas, though, I admit that.”
“Back up. You remember that?” she asked.
“Of course I do,” I said.
“No, I mean you remember how much I ate of what?”
“Yeah, I have a pretty good memory for detail,” I said.
“Is that how you knew my size for the jersey? You saw it on my shirt tag, I'm guessing.”
“Good guess,” I said.
“It must be no challenge remembering your credit card number then.”
“Not a bit,” I said.
“Must be useful.”
“In some ways, definitely,” I agreed.
“What else do you remember?” Sally asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Is it only numbers and food?” Sally asked.
“Oh, no, I remember most things,” I said.
“Including these?” she asked, nodding down towards her gorgeous breasts.
“Among other things,” I said.
“Really?” she asked, leaning in.
“Of course,” I said, leaning in too.
“Like what?” she asked.
“Well, the cake for a start. It really was delicious. I know I’m sounding like a broken record.”
“Just the cake?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.
“No,” I said.
“What else?” she pressed.
“I remember how certain other things tasted and it was all delicious,” I admitted, being purposefully vague due to our environment, but hinting at double entendres as much as I could. “And I remember some beautiful views, too.”
“I see,” she said shyly.
On that note, the food arrived. The first course of it, anyway. There were three in all, as was the tradition. I had tried to keep them small so we wouldn't get overly stuffed, on the admittedly off chance that she was willing for a second go around with me. The longer the date went on, the clearer it became that she was.
