by Carter Ashby
"Oh, shut up." The women took turns in the bathroom, cleaning themselves up, but staying in the bathrobes they'd donned for the experience.
"I'm sad for Jayce," Maya said. The last one out of the bathroom, she gingerly sat on the bed next to Zoey and Addy who were lounged back against pillows. "I don't think I'm gonna be able to give him his Friday night lovin'."
"His Friday night lovin'?" Zoey laughed. "You have a schedule or something?"
"We have spontaneous sex. But Friday nights are guaranteed. We always do something extra special and fun on Friday nights. Like last week it was pretty weather, and we went up on the roof and did it. So that was our on-the-roof sex."
"How many kinds of sex are there?" Addy asked.
"I'm finding out, a lot. Jayce is pretty creative. Hide-and-seek sex is the best. He catches me in a room without windows, turns off the lights, and then tries to find me. That's my favorite so far."
"I like hot tub sex at the moment," Zoey said. "I tend to find something I like and just do it until it gets boring. Hot tub sex has been hot for about a month, now."
Addy turned around on the bed, leaning back on her hands, facing them. She just stared at them both, in awe of how easy it was for them to talk about something so personal. "Guys, I need to tell you something. I need you to not laugh at me or tease me. I really need your support and…and…"
"You're a virgin, aren't you?" Zoey asked. "I knew it." She threw up her hands in frustration. "Does the professor know?"
"No," she sighed. "I've never told him, anyway. Maybe he assumes."
"Okay, well, it's not that big of a deal. You're twenty-four. It's not going to be too scary. It's just like a self-made orgasm, except you've got someone else on top of you, that's all."
"Jeez, Zoey," Maya said, rolling her eyes.
"I've never…" Addy stopped. She couldn't even say it, it was too embarrassing.
Zoey's mouth dropped. Thankfully, Maya stepped in. "Never had an orgasm?" she asked.
Addy shook her head, feeling suddenly ashamed—a rare sensation, for her.
"It's not a big deal," Maya said. "Zoey's been self-pleasuring since she was twelve, but I never touched myself until after I left Damon. You just be honest with the professor about your lack of experience, and he'll take care of everything."
"What if I can't? I mean, it's not like I haven't tried. I have those…feelings. But just touching myself…I just can't. It's too weird for me, and I feel like I'm doing something, you know, sinful. I just can't get past that."
Maya needed to think on it, which gave Zoey the opportunity to swoop in and, in her brusque way, just say, "Power through it, sweetie. It gets really good, trust me."
"Zoey, come on," Maya said. "Addy, do you want to do this with him?"
"Yes. Absolutely."
"Then trust me, he'll get you where you need to be. But if you're succumbing to pressure—"
"I'm not. I'm really not," Addy said. "If I didn't want him, I'd toss his plane ticket in the trash and sue him for inappropriate conduct. Oh, God, which is totally what my parents will do to him if they find out. I need a cover story. They're going to wonder why I haven't visited them. They may even come up. They pop in, like, all the time."
"Okay, but first," Maya said. "You're okay? With the sex thing?"
Addy exhaled and closed her eyes. She nodded. "As okay as I can be. I just wish I'd slept with some guys before, so I wouldn't be going into this blind."
Maya laughed. "I'll bet money the professor is the kind of guy who likes that you saved yourself for him. What guy wouldn't?"
Addy hoped she was right.
"Cover story," Zoey said. "I got it. We invent a girlfriend, just like in The Importance of Being Earnest—"
"Oh, I love that story," Addy said, suddenly growing sentimental.
"I know," Zoey said bitterly, clearly not appreciating the many times that Addy had made them watch that movie. "As I was saying. We invent a girlfriend. We'll name her…Lilly Kennedy—"
"Wait," Maya said. "Why Lilly Kennedy?"
"It sounds like the kind of name the Harts would approve of."
Maya nodded and shrugged.
"Okay, so you're taking a spontaneous trip with Lilly to some place exotic like Paris or London or New York City."
"Better make it Paris," Addy said. "I've been there twice. I've never been to New York."
They both gave her that I-hate-you look. "All right," Zoey said. "So Addy went with Lilly to Paris. Shopping and culture and all that. We need to get our details straight on who this Lilly is."
So they spent the next hour creating a fictional best friend for Addy. Maya took notes on her phone and emailed copies to them so they would have their story straight.
Then they drank wine and watched movies until late so Addy wouldn't have to be up all night alone.
CHAPTER FOUR
Grey had packed for his trip on Friday morning. Caroline called him for lunch, and he joined her. Caroline, like all of his girlfriends, wasn't serious about him. That was what he liked about her. They had an open relationship and were free to see other people. So he didn't feel bad about seeing Addison. What he felt bad about was lying to her.
When Caroline asked for a date that weekend, he told her he was going out of town. She asked where. He told her to his cousin's funeral in Houston. He really did have a cousin in Houston who had just died, but he didn't know the guy. Grey sent a sympathy card and flowers, but wasn't compelled to go there.
No, he needed to go somewhere else. He needed to get away. He either needed to breathe some fresh, Addison-free air for a while. Or he needed to have it off with her once and for all. He couldn't take it. His feelings for her had gotten stronger over the years, and now he was completely dizzy with them. God help him if these feelings turned into something more than lust.
Grey had dinner with his parents Friday night. He hated having dinner with them. Their conversations were so superficial. His whole childhood had been a series of boring dinner parties with rich people and no kids. Being an only child had been lonely enough. Being an only child to his particular parents—his social existence had been barren.
At dinner they asked after his week and whether he had any plans. "No," he said. "Just gonna relax at home. Catch up on some reading."
"That's nice, son," his father said.
He could have told him he was going to vaccinate malnourished children in Ghana, and his father would have said, "That's nice, son." In fact, Grey had said that very thing, once, ten years ago. When he got back from Africa two years later, his father had asked if he'd had a nice vacation.
"I'm attempting to seduce one of my students," Grey said in his most cheerful voice.
"Oh? How nice," his father said.
"I think so," Greyson said as he stabbed a piece of steak with his fork. "It'll either get me laid, fired, or both."
His mother arched a warning brow at him, clearly not finding amusement in what she believed to be a joke. His father simply nodded and ate.
After dinner, Grey went home and collapsed onto his sofa. Maybe Addison wouldn't come. Hell, she probably wouldn't come. And if she didn't, he could just go on pretending like nothing was wrong. But if she did come…
He got hard just from the excitement of the possibility.
Grey tried not to glance around the airport as he checked his luggage and went through security; as he waited at the gate for his flight to be called; as he walked into the tunnel unable to help looking backward one last time. He took his seat in first class next to the window, next to an empty seat that appeared would remain empty. Over the course of the next ten minutes, as the rest of the plane was boarded, Grey's heart gradually sank.
It stopped beating altogether as Addison slipped into the seat next to him, tall and composed in a pencil skirt and blouse, her hair pulled back in a barrette, her blue eyes gorgeous behind her black-rimmed glasses.
She was breathing hard. She flashed him a smile before tucking her computer bag beneath her sea
t and fastening her belt. "Traffic," she said.
He nodded. He couldn't speak. She was really here. This was really happening.
At last she leaned back in her seat and took a deep breath with her eyes closed. He looked her over from her long, elegant neck, to her demurely crossed legs.
"I just said to myself," she said with her eyes still closed, "If that plane leaves the ground and you're not with him, you'll regret it…"
"Maybe not today, and maybe not tomorrow, but soon, and for the rest of your life," Grey said, finishing the quote. "Casablanca."
Addison sat up and stared at him wide-eyed for just a second before her lips curled up in a beautiful smile. "Should have known you'd know that."
Grey placed his hand over hers on the armrest.
The flight attendant stood and gave the flight safety lecture. Addison grabbed her cell phone out of the side pocket of her computer bag and turned it off. The plane lurched into motion. As it picked up speed, Grey felt Addison's hand slip into his. He smiled and gave it a squeeze.
That was it. They held hands in silence until the plane made it into the sky and the seatbelt light switched off.
At last he angled toward her. "Addison, my God. A whole week, just the two of us."
She faced him, her cheeks flushed. "I was never sure you felt this way about me." Tears welled in her eyes but didn't spill over.
"Since the day I met you, Addison. Since that very moment."
She took in a shaky breath. "I want you to know, I've never done this before—"
"I know. The last thing I want is for you to feel I don't respect you. I don't do this, either, Addison. I've never done anything like this."
"No. I mean, yes, but…I mean, I've never done…this…before."
He stared at her. "You've never had sex?"
She shook her head. "I didn't have a chance to tell you. I don't know if it changes anything—"
"Of course it doesn't change anything. I mean, it changes some things, but not this. Not our week. You got on the plane, Addison. I intend to have you every which way no matter what your level of experience. I'll take care of you, trust me."
She grinned, suddenly going girlish. From sophisticated woman, to wide-eyed innocent with one smile.
"But I do think we should set up some ground rules," Grey continued.
She immediately switched back to sophisticated, professional woman mode. "Of course. What did you have in mind?"
"It's important to me that you understand what this is. I can't be with a student. So this week is just that. One week. That's all. It's over. Do you agree?"
"Of course. One week. But only one week? Or do you hope to meet again in the future?"
"I think we should discuss that later on in the week, don't you?"
"Yes. Perhaps we'll get this out of our systems and not need another rendezvous."
"Exactly," he said with relief. "And I truly hope that that's the case, because I know you intend to go straight into a doctoral program. It would be better if we weren't romantically involved beyond this week."
He was also on the panel that would listen as she defended her Master's thesis. Yet another reason they couldn't be found out.
"I agree," she said. "Anything else?"
"Do you want to share a room with me? Or would you like your own room?"
She pressed her lips together in thought. "I think it would be nice to have my own room to change in, and in case we need some space from each other."
"Perfect. Done."
"I have another rule," she said. "I pay my own way. Aside from the plane tickets, which you've already purchased, I'll buy my own meals and any other transportation—"
"Absolutely not. You're my guest. I'm entertaining you."
"You paying makes me feel like a prostitute."
"That's ridiculous."
She shrugged. "I feel how I feel, ridiculous or not."
"Well you paying makes me feel like a douchebag, so—"
She laughed. "I've never heard you say that word."
"Let me take care of you. I want you to feel like a princess, not a prostitute."
"I think you just want to exert your primal need to control and dominate."
"Ah, I'm a caveman now? Some women would say I'm a gentleman."
"That's interesting, isn't it? That the behaviors of our social definition of gentleman resemble that of a caveman?"
They spent the next half hour debating gender roles and norms in Western society as they had done a million times before. This was precisely why he and Addison were so perfect together. They had this dance of the intellects going that he just thrived on. And though she was always passionate about her opinions, she didn't get overemotional. They rarely resolved anything, though they influenced each other over time. But whenever it was time to end a debate, she would simply thank him for the conversation or else wryly, and with a wink, say, "Looks like I won that one, Professor."
This time, however, she quietly dropped out. He was citing an article he'd read when he noticed she wasn't really listening anymore. Not like her at all. She was zoned out, frowning, not staring at anything in particular. "Addison?"
She took in a breath and turned to him. "Will you continue to date your girlfriend after this week?"
He swallowed. There were nerves, but this was Addison. She was reasonable. Logical. "Probably," he said.
She turned pale. "I see."
"Do you think I shouldn't?"
She was quiet for a long moment. "I think it's important to me that you understand how I feel. That it hurts me to see you date other women."
"Honey, I'm sorry. I don't know what you want me to do. Remain celibate?" But suddenly he realized the insensitivity of his statement. Because wasn't that what she'd done? "Is that why you're still a virgin, Addison? You were waiting for me?"
She lowered her head, her silence his answer.
"I never asked that of you," Grey said.
She let out a bitter laugh. "You didn't?"
"No, Addison. I'd never—"
"Do you remember Joel Wilson?"
His ears got suddenly hot. "That fucking soccer player."
"Precisely. That fucking soccer player."
Grey felt a sudden and deep shame. This had been nearly two years ago. He'd forgotten. "What did you see in him?"
"Um, he's hot. Really hot. Not the sharpest tool in the shed, but not an idiot. Did all those caveman gestures you seem to value so highly. Paid for my meals, held open doors, that sort of thing. Do you remember what you said to me in the cafeteria that day?"
He remembered.
"You said, 'Not him, Addison. Anyone but him.' It was the first time you'd called me by name. You didn't mean it, either. You meant no one. Not him. Not anyone. Didn't you?"
She was right. He'd been jealous. Angry. Hurt. And since then, he'd been living a very comfortable existence in which he could sleep with women he didn't love while loving a woman he couldn't sleep with.
"Anyway, it doesn't matter, Grey," she said. "Because now I have the chance to be with you and to tell you how I feel. And I'm telling you now, if this ends for good at the end of the week, I intend to grieve however long I have to and then move on with my life. I won't be waiting like before."
He couldn't respond. She was right, but he couldn't bear the thought of her being with someone else. He squeezed her hand and brought it to his lips. "Let's make one more rule, just for this week."
"What's that?"
"Live in the moment."
She was smiling again. "Agreed."
He touched her cheek, and just that simple gesture, after years of longing to do it, sent his hormones into high gear. By the looks of her flushed cheeks and parted lips, hers too. "Grey," she whispered. She was staring at his mouth.
Grey fisted his hands in her hair and crushed her lips with his own. She clung to his shirt as he did obscene things to her mouth with his tongue. There was one, and only one, tiny, far away voice preventing him from dragging
her to the bathroom and having her against the wall. That voice kept annoyingly reminding him that she was a virgin, and she deserved better for her first time. So he kept his hands in her hair while the rest of his body silently screamed for more.
He slid his hands down her neck to grip her shoulders. Sometimes, in the warmer weather, she'd wear sleeveless tops or dresses, and he'd often admired her broad, toned shoulders. He'd admired a lot about her body. It frightened him that she was young. It frightened him that she was a student. The last thing in the world he wanted was to be perceived as a dirty old man, a sleazy professor who used his position of authority to manipulate the emotions of young women. The last thing in the world he wanted was to be like his father.
Grey pushed his fears aside. He'd already made the decision. He'd already thought this through. Addison was mature, confident, and stable. Sure she was young and a student, but those facts were incidental. As he kissed her, he knew he had nothing to worry about. She was holding her own, during that kiss, giving of her passion, but not melting. Not surrendering. Her clinging to his shirt felt as much about holding him back as keeping him close.
Grey embraced her and gently pulled back from the kiss. She stared up at him with wide eyes and swollen lips. When she smiled Grey couldn't help but smile back. They sank back into each other's lips and remained that way for the rest of the flight.
CHAPTER FIVE
Addy stood inside the doorway of Grey's two-story cabin, her hands folded in front of her, her computer bag on the floor next to her. He was bringing in their luggage while she was trying to find her feet after being in the sky having the best make-out session of her life. "I kissed Dr. McDaniel," she said aloud.
"Did a fine job of it, too," he replied, passing by her to wheel in their suitcases. "Our rooms are back here. I don't open up the second floor, usually."
She followed him past the living room, down a short hall. He left his suitcase outside one door and opened the door across the hall. She preceded him into the room, dimly lit with sunlight filtered through sheer drapes. There was a queen-sized bed, nightstand, and dresser. The comforter was light green with yellow flowers. She sat on the edge of the bed and looked around.
