by Anthology
“Where to?” he asks, thumping his thumb along with the radio.
“Umm, WKAT in downtown.”
“The Kat?” he asks, turning that uber-sexy raised eyebrow my direction.
“Yeah, I’ve worked there for five years, but this morning I start my first day as a producer on the Steel Jones Show. I’m supposed to be there in like fifteen minutes, and here I am, about to show up looking like a streetwalker who turned tricks all night.”
Carter whistles. I’m sure he thinks I’m as slutty as I feel right now. Let’s go out, she said. It’ll be fun, she said. Have a little no-strings sex with a stranger, she said. Well, she didn’t tell me how utterly humiliating it would be to find out your sex-prince was actually a frog in the morning.
“Here,” he says, reaching in the back and grabbing his duffle. When he sets it on my lap and opens the zipper, I’m instantly assaulted with his scent. It’s practically branded into my nasal passages; I’ll probably never forget it.
“What’s this?” I ask cautiously, as if a severed head might be pulled out and tossed on my lap.
Without removing his eyes from the road, he reaches into the well-worn duffle bag and starts rooting around. After a few moments of shuffling clothes, he pulls out a comb and hands it to me. “I know it’s not a brush, but I thought it might help,” he says with a sheepish grin.
And right then and there, my uterus does a backflip.
“Thanks.”
Gingerly grabbing my hair, I pull the comb through the rat’s nest of tangles. I’d kill for a shower right now, but that’s not happening. Not with the clock sliding closer and closer to start time. So instead, I focus on making myself presentable. Well, as presentable as you can when wearing last night’s clothes, mouth smelling and tasting like something died in it, and your perfect smoky eyes smeared all over your face like a raccoon.
Reaching for the visor, I pull it down. Honestly, I’m terrified to see the reflection staring back at me. My God! I look like a heroin addict after a four-day bender. I groan, disgusted with my own appearance. There’s no way Mr. Tall and Sexy would find me anything but horrendous. I mean, I’m appalled, and I know this isn’t my norm. He probably thinks I’m a five-dollar hooker looking to turn my next trick for rent money.
Rent. Roommate. Cami. Oh, shit! What the hell happened to my roommate, and why isn’t she looking for me? I mean, she’s probably shacked up with some actual hot guy while I got Barney Fife’s cousin.
Grabbing my phone, I fire off a quick text.
Me: I’m alive, but barely. So late for work. I’m probably gonna kill you tonight for suggesting drinks and dancing. Never again. Never. Again. You okay?
It takes a few moments, but those little bubbles appear as she writes.
Cami: No talking. My brain is bleeding. Sebastian hot. Hung. Kept me up all night. Fell asleep at four. What time you get home?
Do I tell my BFF that I took a page from her book and didn’t come home last night? She’s going to want all the dirty deets, and honestly, I can’t remember them. That’s what bothers me most of all. It’s like a big blank page staring back at me. I have no clue what I did or said, and that’s bothering me.
Me: Almost to work. TTYL.
Cami: Word.
I drop my phone in my purse, grateful that my bestie isn’t lying dead in a gutter somewhere, and turn my attention back to the horrible reflection. Hard to believe that’s actually me. I use the comb to pick at the tangles in my hair, thankful that they appear to be lying somewhat decent. I’m not about to let a little case of bedhead stop me.
Next, I tackle my eyes. Using my fingers, I try to wipe away the dark mascara and eye shadow marring my skin. As if he can read my mind, Carter reaches in his bag and pulls out a package of Kleenex. Grateful, I take one from the package and wipe away the smudges.
“So, you and Peter, huh?” His question causes my heart to pound.
“Uhhhh. I’m such a horrible person. I don’t even know him, all right? I had no idea what his name was, how old he was, or where he worked, until you just told me. I don’t even remember what happened last night.” I keep my eyes on the mirror so I don’t have to see the disdain in his eyes. I’m already beating myself up enough. I don’t need the hottie to look at me like a leper.
“Peter Crawford, age twenty-three, and 1843 Dewey Court. Don’t beat yourself up, Sadie. Everyone does something they regret.”
“Twenty-three,” I groan. “That doesn’t make me feel better, actually. I feel worse. Have you ever done something you regret?” I ask, pausing from the attack on my under eyes with the rough tissue.
He looks deep in thought and I start to think he won’t answer me, but then he says, “Yeah, I’ve done plenty. My biggest regret was asking someone to marry me who clearly didn’t value the relationship the way I did.”
His eyes, even from the profile view, are filled with hurt. “I’m sorry,” I say, reaching over and setting my hand on his arm. The touch is electric. I feel the current coursing through my bloodstream. He must feel it too because he looks down at my hand before turning his eyes on mine. They’re dark and full of something that resembles desire.
“It’s all right. It was a few years ago. I moved on, made my share of mistakes along the way, and ended up here, crashing on my brother’s couch for a few days.” Carter smiles and pushes aside whatever memory rose to the surface. “What about you? What brings you to today?”
I laugh, but it’s not humorous. “Well, my best friend thought it would be a good idea to go out last night to celebrate my promotion. My plan was to be home by nine so I had plenty of time to get to the station. A few drinks turned into shots, which turned into dancing. The next think I knew I was in a cab, making out with…Peter.” Just saying his name and visualizing his back-ne is enough to cause throw-up to rise up my throat.
Reaching over, I start digging in Carter’s bag. I don’t even realize I’m doing it, or what I’m looking for. I’m just trying to keep my hands busy. “And you know the worst part? I don’t even feel like I had sex. You know? I should totally feel like I was just sexed all night, right?”
His eyes are dancing with laughter as he glances my way. “Well, let’s just say that if it were me you spent last night with, you’d definitely feel over-sexed today.”
Well, then.
I swallow over the lump in my throat, silently wishing I were thoroughly sexed by this man. Just my luck that I miss out on this fine specimen of male perfection, and instead fall into bed with beer goggles. Because Peter definitely didn’t look anything like the man I thought I was sleeping with last night.
Chapter Six
Carter
I’m not sure what made me say that. Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve been thinking about Sadie naked since the moment she stepped into the bathroom. The image is something I’m not likely to forget anytime soon, that’s for sure. And the only thing I can think of now is figuring out a way to get her naked again.
This time in my bed.
She averts her eyes and starts digging around in my bag. I’m not exactly sure of what she’s looking for, but I’m not going to ask. I kinda like her touching my things with those long, lean fingers. It makes me wish I were that damn sweatshirt she keeps pawing.
When she comes out of my bag with mouthwash, you’d think she won the damn lottery. Her gorgeous smile lights up the entire dawn sky. “Can I?” she asks, tipping the travel bottle of Listerine in my direction.
“Knock yourself out,” I reply, steering toward the downtown business district. We’re not too far from the station, which causes a ping of regret to take root in my gut. Believe it or not, I’m actually enjoying spending time with her.
Sadie swishes mouthwash around and looks around, as if trying to figure out where she’s going to spit. Her eyes are starting to water; I’m sure from the strong alcohol in the mouthwash. She turns quickly and engages the button to lower the window. She removes her seatbelt enough and hops up on her knees. With her he
ad hanging out the window, she spits the mouthwash out in the middle of Westmont Avenue.
Of course, my eyes are pulled to where she’s bent over. That amazing dress is barely covering her ass, and while she’s in that position, I catch a glimpse of flesh. My dick starts to harden again when I recall how she didn’t slide panties on in the bathroom this morning.
But she’s off limits. That little tease was the universe’s way of telling me to fuck off. Do not pass go; do not collect two hundred dollars.
“God, that feels so much better,” she says, sitting back in her seat and refastening her seatbelt. Again, she starts digging around in my bag. “I wish I had a change of clothes. Or at least some damn underwear.”
“Well, I can’t help you with ladies’ panties, but help yourself to anything else you need in there.”
She looks up at me with round eyes. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe I was just digging around in your things. That’s so rude.”
“It’s fine, Sadie. Really. I don’t have much in there, and most of it’s from the Air Force, but maybe you can find something to wear.”
The idea of her wearing my clothes has me hard enough to pound nails. Seriously, there’s nothing sexier than a woman wearing a man’s shirt, and that little gem of an image has planted in my brain.
“What did you do in the Air Force?” she asks, pulling out a pair of my boxer briefs.
“Chopper pilot.”
She’s silent for a few heartbeats. When I glance over, her eyes are wide and full of…excitement? “Really?”
“Yep. That wasn’t what I was enlisting for, but I figured out real quick that I had a knack for it. I’ll never forget the first time I flew solo. It was amazing.” I didn’t realize I was lost in the memory until I glance over and she’s smiling at me.
“That’s so awesome. Maybe someday you’ll take me?” Her eyes are swimming with hope and anticipation. But then she must realize what she said because her smile vanishes, she shakes her head, and turns away. As if she realized there was no future.
Silence fills the car as we make our way through downtown Seattle. My heartbeat starts to pick up the closer we get to the station. I honestly try to come up with a way to delay our arrival at the destination. Maybe fake a medical attack? Pray for a flat tire? Something to keep this car from arriving at Sadie’s work.
“I can’t believe I have to do the walk of shame on my first day as Producer. Steel is never going to let me live this down,” she says, while pulling a few shirts from the bag.
I grunt in reply.
“Hey, what about this?” she says, drawing my attention away from the road again. She’s holding up my tan dress shirt. I never wear the damn thing, but always felt the need to have one with me. Even paired with jeans, it felt like something that could be worn anywhere.
“You think?” I ask, glancing back to the road.
“It matches my shoes,” she replies, holding up her nude-colored heels. “Yeah, I think this’ll work.”
She starts moving when I pull up to the stoplight down the block from her building. I watch, hypnotized, as she slides my shirt over the top of her blue dress. With slightly shaky fingers, she buttons it up to her magnificent tits, and grabs the tails. Pulling them together in front, she ties them in a knot at her stomach.
Well, it’s not the most fashionable outfit I’ve seen, but the fact that it’s my shirt she’s wearing on her walk of shame has a certain hot factor to it. Sure, I’ll completely ignore the fact that she was in bed with my little brother’s weird friend this morning. Right now, as she slides the heels back on her feet, I just take in the simple beauty of this woman.
“Well, I’m still not wearing panties and my hair looks like I slept in the subway last night, but it’ll have to do.” As if seeking out my approval, she turns hopeful brown eyes on me.
“You look beautiful.” And she does.
The light turns green and within a few seconds, I’m pulling up in front of the station. The air suddenly thickens around us as I throw the car in park. Neither one of us seems to know what to say, so we just stare at each other. A million things run through my mind, all inappropriate for the moment.
Instead I just go with the simple truth. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Sadie.”
The corner of her mouth turns up. “You too, Carter. Thank you for bringing me to work. And for the comb and shirt and, well, just everything.”
“It was no problem. Good luck on your first day.”
“Thank you,” she says with a big smile before reaching for the door. She sets my bag down on the floorboard and slides out of the car. My heart is hammering in my chest, and the sudden desire to beg her to stay is strong.
But I don’t.
I can’t.
With apprehension that makes my chest hurt, I watch her step up on the curb. She throws me a little wave and a big smile before turning and heading quickly into her building. I sit there like a sap, watching her go until I can’t see her any longer. Then I sit there some more.
Why is it the first woman I find that makes my heart race and my palms sweat is linked to someone else? I know they’re not in a relationship, but still it feels like I should just back off.
Until I turn and see her standing at the window, watching me. Then it feels like I should be running inside and taking her in my arms. Suddenly, being with her again seems like the only option I have. I want to know her. I want to find out about her childhood and her parents. Does she have siblings? What about the roommate? And what is her last name? All things I have an insatiable desire to learn about Sadie.
As I pull away from the building, an idea takes shape. I head toward the first of three stops, trying to figure out how to plead my case to the woman I met less than an hour ago.
Chapter Seven
Sadie
Everyone’s staring at me. I can feel their judgmental eyes behind my back as I work to secure phone calls for Steel’s next segment. Of course, there are only two sets of eyes in the room. David, the other producer, and Steel.
Within five minutes, I have four callers screened and on hold, waiting for their chance to discuss concert sex on the Steel Jones Show. My head is pounding, though it’s more of a dull ache compared to the blasting cannon it was prior to the Ibuprofen Carter gave me.
Carter. I don’t even know his last name, but I can’t stop thinking about him. Or picturing him as he pulled the curtain back and revealed his wet, naked body. Or the way he felt when said body was pressed against my own very nakedness. Another shudder wracks through my body at the memory.
A knock sounds at the door. I turn to see Steel starting his next segment, paying no attention to our studio. With my heels tossed on the floor beneath my desk, I stand up and walk toward the closed door. The light above it says On Air and all of the staff knows not to interrupt us during live show times.
“Delivery for you, Miss Bivens,” the young guy says before thrusting a bag and coffee cup in my face.
“Thank you,” I say to his back before turning and heading back into the studio. A quick glance at Steel, and then the phone system, shows he’s still talking to the callers I lined up. Another quick one to David, who’s probably playing Candy Crush on his cell phone, lets me know that no one is paying any attention.
Grabbing the coffee, I take a big whiff. It’s smells like heaven, all sugary and rich and caffeinated. I have to stifle my moan as I take my first sip of a very large, very perfect, crème brûlée latte.
Setting the bag on top of the board, I dig in to the contents. The small Styrofoam container reveals a big, warm cinnamon roll. The kind you get from a bakery or deli. It’s clearly fresh with gooey cream cheese icing melted over the top. My mouth waters and my stomach growls loudly as I reach in the bag for a fork.
My hand hits something firm. Turning the bag sideways, a small box and a note falls out with the plastic fork and knife. I grab the notecard and open it. The handwriting is thick and messy, but his words are legible.
&
nbsp; Sadie,
I feel bad I didn’t have any of these in my bag for you. Though, I still think that’s a good thing. Hopefully, now you’ll feel a little less exposed. It was great meeting you this morning, even if we were both naked at the time. Hope you feel better soon. Enjoy the coffee and roll.
Carter
I blush three shades of pink, and I’m almost afraid to open the small box. The light blue box has the name Exposed printed in scroll lettering. I’ve heard of the store. Never been because my budget isn’t conducive to twenty-five dollar pairs of panties and seventy-five dollar bras.
With shaky hands, I open the lid and move the tissue paper aside. Nestled within the confines of the paper is a pair of nude-colored satin panties. Simple. Elegant. And completely my size. Of course he’d be able to figure out my size at a glance. Carter has sexuality pouring from his person like a faucet.
“Whatcha got?” I hear behind me, David’s voice startling me enough to almost make me spill the coffee.
“Nothing,” I say too loudly, slamming the lid on top of the box.
“Exposed. Someone sent you lingerie?” His eyebrow disappears beneath the hair hanging on his forehead.
“No,” I retort with so much force, I may as well have just screamed “guilty!”
“Wait,” he says, while turning off Steel’s mic and playing the next song. “So are you going to tell me why you’re wearing a man’s shirt on top of a wrinkled dress? I’ve seen walk of shame before and it looks just like you. You’re like the poster child.” I want to smack the smirk right off his handsome face.
“This is…stylish, David. Everyone’s wearing…this…now.”
Again, with the damn eyebrow. He doesn’t answer, but begins to prep the next segment with Steel. I field a handful of phone calls before finding a few moments to slip into the bathroom, taking my little blue box along with me. The material feels smooth and silky and expensive, but I’m not complaining. At least I’m now wearing underwear.
