by Hoff, Stacy
Two of my shirt buttons are undone, but not in linear order—my top button, and the button after the next down. I can feel his shirt against the part of my chest that’s exposed. I become aware of my other senses, too. I can’t hear anything but my pounding pulse. I smell the roses, his skin, and whatever cologne he has on, all of which is making me heady. Taste has been already taken care of, I find to my sudden horror. I realize I have left kissing behind and I am now doing the same “drawing” trick on him. That shocks me to a sudden stop. I freeze.
“Why did you stop?” He looks at me, smiling broadly. “I can assure you I was really enjoying that.”
“Jordan, I can’t be doing this. I can’t just hop into bed with you.”
“Okay, don’t. But do continue what you were doing.”
“Uh . . .”
He sits up. I hadn’t noticed before that we were on my couch. Horizontal.
“What’s the problem?” He’s clearly a little frustrated, though he still manages to smile. “Am I that bad?” he jokes. “At least I’m able to happily succumb to this—merger.” He laughs.
“I’m worried how it’s going to be when we’re back in the office. How will I cope when I see you there, knowing you’ve seen me naked? I don’t know if I can handle it.”
“I know how I’ll handle it,” he says, grin larger than the Cheshire cat’s. “It’ll be the best part of my day, I can promise you that.”
“I’ll die from embarrassment.”
“I’ll die from pent-up lust.”
He’s wearing the stupidest grin. I obviously am not going to get anywhere with him on this issue. Time to move on to my next point. “What about personal logistics?”
“Personal logistics?”
I don’t know whether to be envious, or infuriated, he can laugh at a time like this. “I’m not, you know . . . prepared . . . for any of this,” I say, blood rushing to my face. Great. I’m sure I look like a cranberry. Maybe he’ll be inspired to indulge in food instead of sex.
“Okay,” he says, shifting against my sprawled pillows until he sits upright, “How did you handle the preparations your previous times?”
I am silent. My shoulders tense, scraping my ears.
“Whatever birth control works best for you is fine with me, of course,” he prompts. “It’s simply a matter of whatever you’re comfortable with.”
No response. Not possible yet.
“I get it,” he says after a minute of silence. “Sorry, I was slow on the draw, but I’m with you now. I’m the one who needs to handle the preparations. Right. Got it.” He gives me a lopsided smile until he notices I’m still tense, rigid like stone.
“Sue, why are you still upset? I know this topic isn’t easy, but hey, we’re done with it. I told you we’d handle birth control whatever way you want. And now I know what you want.”
“Okay, that addresses some of my logistic issues.”
“There are others? Wow.” He’s laughing again. “All right, let’s hear them. We’ll get through those too.”
“Well, it’s more of clarification of an issue than an additional issue.”
“Sheesh, Sue, you must be nervous. So formal, it’s like you’re still my associate.”
Cannonballs fire out of my narrowed eyes.
“Sorry, sorry,” he hastens to add upon seeing my expression. “My mistake, I shouldn’t have brought that up. So what’s your ‘clarification’?”
The only way through this topic is through the heart of it. I figure I might as well tell him what I need to. “There wasn’t a way I handled logistics before, because this issue never came up.”
His head cocks to one side, questioningly.
I sigh. “Your instructional duties with me would have to expand past commercial real estate.” He’s still silent. Is he going to catch on this year, or what? “Jordan, I’ve never been with anyone before.”
His mouth drops open.
Finally.
“That’s an aspect I wasn’t expecting,” he says after the longest pause. “We’ll go slow, all right? I wouldn’t have even pushed you this far, if I’d known.”
“You think I’m weird now, right?”
“Not weird. But I am trying to figure that out. Were you waiting for marriage?”
“No. It’s like my last job, where I never made that much of a connection with anybody. I didn’t want to sleep with some guy just to get my virginity over with. Being with someone for the right reasons is important to me.”
I interpret Jordan’s silence to mean he is re-evaluating whether I’m weird. Is he now also re-evaluating whether I’m desirable? Perhaps my employment resume wasn’t enough for him. Now he’s got my dating history to review and consider, too. Fabulous.
“You’re beautiful, Sue. I would have thought guys would’ve gone out of their way to connect with you.”
That definitely softens me up. I try to smile, despite the fact I hate admitting all this. “You’re not put off?”
“No,” he says. “It’s an interesting element. But definitely not off-putting.”
I catch a glimpse of the clock above my television. “Midnight.” I sigh. “Maybe you should go home. We can both cool down and get some sleep.”
“No. I understand we won’t be as intimate as I’d like for a while, but I still want to go to bed with you.”
I stare at him. The raving lunatic.
“I don’t want to leave,” he protests. “I want to spend the night here, holding you.”
I stare harder at him, eyes as wide as they can go.
“Nothing further, I promise,” he says, making a motion to cross his heart.
Despite my nerves, I laugh, which was no doubt his intent.
He says softly, “I want to wake up with you in my arms.”
There is no way I have the wherewithal to fight that. Since I can’t muster up my voice to answer, I nod.
He goes down to his car to grab his toiletries and whatever else he thought to pack. I can’t be furious with him for his overnight bag presumption. After all, his assumption was correct, despite being way off base as to the specifics.
I run to brush my teeth during his brief departure and hurry to put on something clean to sleep in. I can only hope what I pick is not too grandmotherly in appearance.
“Good choice,” he says when he reappears. “Nothing too risqué. I have a reputation to uphold.”
He has no reason to worry about which night outfit was chosen. The floral floor length cotton nightgown is the sexiest thing I own.
CHAPTER 19
I’m not sure how to handle this situation. Am I to clamber under the sheets carefree, chastely kiss him good night, and go to sleep? That sounds like protocol for people married for decades. I barely know this man on a personal level. Worse, he is my professional superior. Much worse, he is sitting on top of my bed, dressed only in pajama pants. His bare chest certainly does not look like it belongs to an old married man. In fact, he’s in quite good shape. He catches me staring at him.
“I burn off stress by lifting weights at the gym. Helps, doesn’t it?” He flexes, seemingly more for the benefit of his own observation than mine.
What a cocky bastard. Apparently, the person he is at the office isn’t going to be entirely different from the person he is at home. But what gives me pause for thought is that at home now means my home. At least for tonight.
“Aren’t you ever coming to bed?” he jokes. “Or are you going to run away? I can buy a sleeping bag for you. It’ll be convenient for those fast escapes.”
I stay standing there, staring at him. I feel hot, but the heat is tinged with annoyance from his joke.
“It’s okay, really.” He laughs. “I brushed my teeth and everything.” He’s grinning.
; I’m not moving.
“All right,” he says. “I’ll be the one to go first. That will be a stretch for this relationship.” He slides under the sheets, over to the far side of the bed, and pulls down the bedding on my side. “Here,” he says. It sounds like a command.
Standing here stupidly is not going to help. I take a deep breath and slip in next to him.
“Finally!”
“Be amazed,” I say. “Because I am.”
“I am amazed. Amazed I get to have you in my arms tonight.”
He wraps himself around me. He feels so warm that I just have to snuggle up to him. An unfortunate combination of comfort and lust rises up. His nuzzling my throat almost guarantees lust’s victory. The feel of his body through our thin nightclothes does not help either. Neither do the kisses he’s placing on my mouth, more firmly and passionately with each one. I twist into him more, letting the blood rush up in me once again.
I’m surprised and angry when he turns away. “Sue, I’m doing all I can right now not to become undone. I made you a promise. I am going to keep it.” He gives me a deep kiss on my cheek. “‘Night, beautiful,” he whispers in my ear.
I’m stunned. “Goodnight, Jordan,” is all I can manage to say. When I finally get the pace of my breath and blood flow slowed down, I sleep. The whole night is spent with his arms around me, he never lets me go.
As wonderful as the night was, it’s not enough to calm the anxiety I have now that it’s morning. I’m grateful to wake up before him. I can slip out of bed, fix my hair, brush my teeth, and become presentable before he sees me.
I really want a hot shower to calm my nerves. Getting in—no problem. Being in the shower when I have only one bathroom—with a broken lock—is a problem. If he walks in on me, will he think I’m strange if I kick him out, considering that we have, in a way, spent the night together? And suppose he really needs to use the bathroom? I can’t handle seeing him like that. And I’m not ready to have him see me naked in my glass-enclosed shower. Especially when I’m all soaped up. It sounds like an ad for a strip club—hot, soapy, shower shows for five dollars. I cringe at the thought of the men who ante up their money. Is Jordan that type? No, but given the current situation, would he pass on the opportunity?
Even if he sleeps through the time I’m in the shower, problems remain. Do I bring in clothes with me to get dressed in the bathroom after I dry off? What on earth should I put on? It’s only 6:30 a.m. on a Saturday. Normally that means broken in sweats. I’m going to try to avoid that look while around him. A T-shirt and jeans seems too dressed up for this early hour. If I put on my bathrobe, how will that look? Probably like I’m subtly asking him to undress me. Will it be strange, post shower, to put my nightgown back on?
I have to pee.
Fabulous. The sound of me peeing throughout my little apartment.
I can’t fight fate. Slowly and carefully, I disengage from Jordan’s arms and slip out of bed. I make my apparel choice as I grab my robe. I walk as silently as I can to the bathroom and just as quietly, shut the door behind me.
Finished with all my morning rituals, I turn on the shower as hot as I can tolerate and step in. My sense of time is lost in the comfort of the steam and hot water.
Eventually, I figure it’s time to get out. I dry off and put on my robe. As quietly as I can, I open the bathroom door and peek at the bed. Empty. I look at the clock. Past eight. A folded piece of paper almost blocks the clock’s bright red digital numbers. Clutching my robe closed, I walk into the bedroom and over to it. It’s a note.
Sue,
You were taking a shower, and I didn’t want to disturb you. I have Marty this morning. I promised her I would take her out for breakfast, so I had to leave you early. I am sorry for that. I will miss seeing your face, as well as your reaction to ‘the morning after.’ I would have truly enjoyed seeing both!
I should be back at your place around 8:00 p.m., when I’ve returned Marty to her mother. Call me on my cell phone if this is not good for you. Otherwise, I will see you then. As you once said, “I hope not to hear from you!”
Most importantly, thank you for the gift of last night.
-Jordan
All that fretting over nothing. He isn’t even here. I’m actually disappointed. Maybe I should just enjoy my time with him rather than stressing over what I should, or shouldn’t, do. After throwing on my favorite sweats and fuzzy socks I walk into the living room. Next to the pink roses from last night are a croissant and a large Styrofoam cup full of coffee. Also another note:
—S.
Because I wanted you to have breakfast, too.
—J.
God, he’s good. No wonder he can get clients. He’s the most persuasive person I have ever met.
CHAPTER 20
Needless to say, I’m not calling Jordan to cancel. In fact, I’m glad, giddy almost, that he wants to come over again. But I’m not as enthusiastic about having to kill the time in between. I try to be productive. I call my mother.
“I’m dating someone,” I tell her.
“That’s great dear. I’m glad you found someone after that Allen boy. Tell me about this one. Who is he?”
I figure I might well get this over with. “He’s a divorced dad with a five year old daughter.”
“Is the mother involved with the child?”
“Yes, she has her during the week. The girl goes to her dad for one day each weekend.”
“Does the mother view you as competition?”
I hadn’t thought of that. “I don’t know. I haven’t met her.”
“How do you get along with the child?”
“I barely know her.”
“So, your boyfriend, he’s older than you?”
“I’m not sure I can call him my ‘boyfriend’ yet.”
“No? You’re not sure if you’re officially dating?”
“Not really sure, no.”
“Your ‘friend’ then, he’s older?
“Yes, he’s . . . older.”
“Older? Like my age? How old are we talking about?”
“I’m not exactly sure. I never outright asked him. He could be in his late thirties or early forties.”
“He’s not looking for some pretty young thing to hook up with, is he?”
“No, Ma, he’s not like that.”
“But he must know you are somewhere around fifteen years younger than him?”
“I uh, suppose so.”
“I don’t want some guy thinking he can take advantage of you because of your inexperience.”
“I’m not going to be taken advantage of.”
“I assume he has a job. What does he do?”
“He’s a partner at a law firm.”
“I see. He has experience and money. Which you don’t, dear.”
“He’s employed. I thought you’d be glad about that.”
“Yes, of course. You said he works for a law firm. Do you know anything about the firm he works for?”
“Yes. Actually it’s Grovas & Cleval.”
“He works at your firm? Why didn’t you just say so?”
“Because, until yesterday, he was my boss.”
“Was your boss. He fired you? You’re dating the man who fired you?”
“No, he transferred me to another division so we could date.” I gather none of this sounds very good. Not exactly fodder for a warm meet the in-laws introduction, should I ever need to schedule one. Good thing this relationship has a solid chance of dying before it starts.
“Susie, honey, I know this will sound contrary to what I’ve been telling you, because I really do want you to find a man so you can settle down. But I’m not sure if this is the right way to accomplish that goal.”
“Ma, I’m not tryin
g to accomplish any goal. I’m simply trying to be with him.”
“You must want to be with him a lot. Aren’t you going to lose all those clients you’ve been telling me about, now that you’ve moved to a different division?”
