MAKE ME A MATCH (Running Wild)

by Hutchinson, Bobby

  But she could see that those navy bikinis and thick chinos presented a problem. With him valiantly holding her up, and her holding on for dear life to his neck, there were no hands left to get their clothes off.

  He took two big steps, holding her up with no visible effort—she thought of the game she used to play, take a giant step—and then her rear was resting on his desk.

  “Radio.” He flicked a switch, and she jumped a little when Chuck Berry was right there with them, doing “Let’s Twist Again.” And she knew Eric was remembering the way she’d moaned the last time they’d twisted.

  “Golden Oldies. Henry eavesdrops.” He was kissing her again, and her legs were still wide apart, and her breath wouldn’t reach down into her chest. Now he was standing in between her thighs, undoing her zipper, sliding her dress up and over her head.

  “Eric.”

  “Yeah, Tess. I know, honey.”

  This was okay. This was a one afternoon Saturday stand.

  It didn’t mean a thing.

  Oh lord, he’d unhooked her bra. The way his mouth felt on her nipple, how did he know to flick his tongue that way? Lots of practice. Don’t think about that—suck your belly in, Tessa; sitting this way your fat’s going to bulge. But she was bulging between her legs, all of her pushing and pulling in and pulsing and longing, and wet, she was so wet. Get with it, Tessa, strip him, no fair having a fat bare belly alone.

  Her fingers were deft on his buttons. He wasn’t wearing anything under his shirt except curly golden chest hair, and his skin, god, his skin, smooth and salty on her lips and then his belt came open really easy. Damn, she had good hands.

  She shoved at the jeans, they were tight, so he took his hands away from her skin and pushed at his clothes impatiently, and then the part of him that she’d tried hard to forget and never could popped up hard into her hand, hot, veined, thick. She tightened her hold on him and he thrust and groaned and stopped and shuddered, and now Jerry Lee was singing “Great Balls of Fire.”

  “It’ll all be over if you keep doing that.”

  The visual was graphic, but she was greedy. She felt herself go up too many notches to wait.

  “Now, Eric. Now, okay?”

  So she was begging, what did it matter if she got what she was after?

  “Okay.” He didn’t take her pants off. Instead, he slipped his fingers under the crotch part and pulled them to one side, and she’d never wanted anything more, but he was pulling away.

  “Hey, you can’t—don’t stop—”

  “Damn, I almost—”

  She had to lie almost flat while he mashed her into the desk and flicked up the lid on a small wooden card index box. He came back with a condom—no babies—he kept them, right on his desk? How often did he do this here?

  Don’t go there, Tess, stay focused—

  “Hurry, please, hurry—”

  He did and then he used his fingers again, testing her wetness, easing the panties away even more, and then, oh my, he slid into her, and it felt the same as it had that one other time.

  Heaven.

  He reached around behind her and tugged her closer still, impaled her on him, and her legs closed around him by themselves, and then her insides closed on him, too, and they rocked and it was a little clumsy and she didn’t care. She was making noises and her head was rocking from side to side. Had he had other women this way, in his office, here, on his desk—

  Stop.

  Pay attention.

  This is for now, Tessa, this is for you, there’s nothing but now, now, NOW.

  “NOW. ” She heard herself moaning it, over and over, louder and louder, and she didn’t care if every employee he had heard it and burst through the door, she didn’t care if the whole world heard it, because she was coming and coming, oh, she couldn’t stand it, but she did.

  And he was making that sound, like an engine revving, the sound she remembered, and she opened her eyes and his head was tipped back so she could see the underside of his chin. He’d missed a place there shaving, and he was shuddering. When he stopped, he slowly tipped his head back down and looked at her for a long moment.

  “You’re so good at this,” he said in a reverent tone. Then he sort of shook all over, and shoved her back until her bottom was more firmly placed on the hard edge of the desk. They’d knocked papers and a jar filled with pens to the floor, and she hadn’t even noticed.

  When she figured she could put two words together, she said, “You’re not so bad yourself.” Heaven help her, she’d violated the very first rule of serious matchmaking: Sex is biology. Use it to encourage courtship.

  “I need to get down.” It was one thing to be spread-eagled and horny. It was quite another to fully appreciate that it was afternoon, and sunshine was pouring in his window, and she had on black medium-heeled sandals and a pair of bikini panties, which were a little the worse for wear.

  Fortunately, he had blinds on the window, and although they were open, none of his employees were pressing their noses to the glass.

  She slid her feet to the floor, and realized that he was in worse shape than she was. He’d done away with the condom, but his jeans and a set of red underwear were down around his ankles. Red? Just when you thought you knew someone.

  He had his shoes on, too, white and blue trainers. He gave her a weary grin, bent over and pulled his pants up as she retrieved her bra and dress and wriggled into them.

  “Bathroom’s right in there, Tess.” Fastening his belt, he walked over to the door, slid the bolt back and flung it open.

  “Henry, goddamn it,” he bellowed. “Get away from my door.”

  Feet pounded off down the hallway.

  “I’m gonna fire him.” Eric’s face was blotchy and red, but she figured that was from sex. “I’m gonna fire him, the pervert, listening at the door.”

  Tessa was shaking, but that, too, was the aftermath of sex. Damp, eager parts of her were still throbbing, slow to acknowledge history.

  “Don’t fire him until he finds me a computer.” She was having trouble being an emancipated woman. She’d just had great sex with a man she didn’t want to date, and she was going to have to walk past Henry and Gladys to get out of here, because she’d stupidly left her handbag on the front counter.

  They’d both know what she’d been doing, and she was feeling a little low on chutzpah. The mirror in the bathroom reflected a dazed slut with a satisfied expression, swollen lips, and blurry eyes. There was nothing she could do to repair anything. She’d just have to brazen it out.

  “I’ll walk you out to your car.”

  He looked as done over as she did. “I think I can find it myself.”

  “I’m being a gentleman. Don’t discourage me.”

  Tessa straightened her spine and tried to look innocent when they got to reception. She needn’t have worried. Gladys’s attention was totally on the soap unfolding on the television. Tessa’s purse was on the desk. She snatched it up, looking around for Henry. He’d disappeared.

  “Bye, Gladys.”

  “Nice meeting you, Tessa,” Gladys said, not even glancing her way.

  Eric walked out beside her and held his hand out for her keys. He unlocked her car door and she got in.

  “Tessa, we still on for Tuesday?” He sounded less than certain, and this was the moment when she should bail. Sex was one thing, going out with him was another.

  He must have read her mind. “A promise is a promise.”

  “Okay, four o’clock, Tuesday. Pick me up at work.”

  She decided in a brilliant burst of afterglow that she’d maybe forget about the courtship thing for a little while and just go for sex, especially when he bent over and pressed a kiss on her mouth.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The less things change, the more they remain the same

  Eric watched her nearly sideswipe a car on her way out of the lot. He should have given her hot sweet tea or something. He was feeling a little shaky himself. That had been—he searched
for a suitable word. Explosive? Phenomenal? Feeling weak in the knees and low in vocabulary, he tottered back into the office.

  “So, boss.” Gladys was waiting, black eyes snapping, mouth pursed into a tight knot, arms crossed on her skinny chest. “Finally, a lady with a brain on her, and you treat her same as that Nema treated you.”

  He opened his mouth to object, but he had to admit that he’d had sex with Nema in his office, on his desk. Numerous times, in fact, which of course Gladys knew about, thanks to Henry.

  “Like Sex in the City around here,” Gladys hissed.

  He couldn’t really argue that. Nema used to turn up in a raincoat with nothing on underneath, and she’d never said two words to Gladys. She hadn’t said many more to him, come to think of it.

  “This one’s smart, funny, little bit plump so probably good cook. Got some money, gonna have a business. Likes you even when she’s known you long time. Your problem is you don’t know good thing when she turns up, boss. I think you need to talk to that Doctor Phil guy on Oprah, he counsels sex addicts.”

  He tried his best glare, but it didn’t work on Gladys. “Tessa’s nothing like Nema.”

  “Maybe she not, but you are,” Gladys snorted. “Maybe it’s true nobody changes, they just get more like themselves.”

  God. He was surrounded by wackos. Did Gladys and Anna have long conversations when he wasn’t around? Probably. He slunk off to his office. It smelled strongly of musk, and he enjoyed it for a while and then opened the window to clear his head.

  Sex was good. Sex was necessary for good health. He hadn’t had any since Nema walked out, so it was past time. He was no addict. He picked up the stuff that had gotten knocked off the desk and closed the lid on the condom container.

  Sex with Tessa was way over the top on the Richter, in fact. But it had been pretty spectacular with Nema in the beginning, too, before—

  Before what? Before he’d ended up feeling used, feeling as if he were just an appendage attached to a penis. He never wanted to feel that way again. He didn’t want to make anybody else feel that way either.

  Tessa made him laugh, she surprised him, she intrigued him, she made him think. She also made him terminally horny, but that was good, wasn’t it? He felt hot all over again thinking about those navy panties, but once he really got his brain functioning, he started feeling not so good about the sex on the desk.

  Maybe he was getting old, but he was starting to want more than just sex these days. Well, with Tessa, anyway. He could talk to her; she was funny and smart and open and caring. Sure, he wanted sex with her. Who wouldn’t? But it looked as if, for some glitch known only to the female mind, the two might be mutually exclusive: friends or lovers, was that the way it worked? Come to think of it, he hadn’t really had any female friends, apart from his sisters.

  Maybe the sex thing should go on the back burner for a little while. He didn’t want to be just another notch on her bedpost.

  On Sunday afternoon he drove Karen to the airport, and it dawned on Eric on the drive home that for the first time in years, he was a little strung out about a date. He’d told Tessa Tuesday wasn’t a date, but it was, and she had that bad impression of him from the cowboy thing. And maybe from the other thing, too. He’d stick to the friendship thing on Tuesday.

  He called The French Laundry and reserved a table by the window. He checked the long-range weather report. If it was going to rain, the fair wasn’t the place to go, and Vancouver was having one of its wet summers.

  The prognosis was sunny with possible showers. What the hell did that mean? He’d have to play it by ear, see how it looked. If it rained, he’d have to come up with Plan B, whatever that was. Just in case, he bought a new big, black umbrella and stowed it in the trunk of his van.

  Sunday evening he cleaned the Volkswagen inside and out, washing, waxing, vacuuming, even emptying out the glove box and the console, which was a lucky thing because he found a black lace bra stuffed in there.

  Nema again. She’d enjoyed stripping off clothing while they were parked in traffic. He’d hated to rain on her parade, but each time she did it he got really nervous and yelled at her to quit it. He had visions of the cops arresting him for aiding and abetting nudity. He dropped the bra in a Goodwill box when nobody was looking and drove away fast.

  That potential catastrophe made him think about his apartment.

  What if Tessa asked to see where he lived? He wasn’t going to have sex with her, but what if there was more lacy stuff under the bed or somewhere else he never looked and she did? It took seven phone calls and a hearty bribe to get a cleaning service to come and clean the place on short notice, and then the three women almost walked out when they got a good look around. The stacks of metal and the welding torch seemed to get to them.

  It cost him double their usual wage to get them to stay, and when he found out what their usual wage was, it made him wonder if setting up a cleaning service designed for desperate singles shouldn’t be his next smart business move.

  He didn’t want to be late, so he went for the kids twenty minutes early.

  Sophie met him at the door looking frazzled.

  “Eric, those nephews of yours just peed off the balcony onto the heads of the people who live directly downstairs. They were going to a wedding, and believe me, they weren’t amused. I offered to pay for dry-cleaning their clothes, but they said that this was vandalism, and that I’m obviously not fit to have children living with me, and they’re calling Social Services. I hate to make you the bad guy, but would you speak to the boys for me? I was so mad I couldn’t go near them without wanting to beat them. And they laughed.”

  “Where are they?”

  “In their bedroom. And for god’s sake don’t threaten them with staying home. I’m not ready and I have to make this meeting. The docs are deciding whether to strike.”

  “Okay.” Eric glanced at his watch. If this took long, he’d be late picking Tessa up. He went into the bedroom.

  Simon was playing with his D.S., and Ian was seeing how high he could bounce on the bed.

  “Hi, Uncle Eric.” Simon sounded happy, fulfilled, and totally unconcerned.

  “What kind of bullshit is this peeing thing, young man?”

  Simon clapped a horrified hand over his mouth. “You’re not supposed to swear at us. Mummy says swears are not allowed.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re not supposed to pee off Auntie Sophie’s balcony, either. I want you to apologize to her, and I want your word that you’re gonna behave yourself from here on in, or else.”

  “Or else what?”

  The cockiness in the kid’s voice was unbelievable.

  “Or else I confiscate the toys you like the best.”

  “Okay, Uncle Eric. I promise.”

  “You better be a man of your word, Simon. Because if you’re not, that D.S. is coming to live with me. Same goes for Leap Pad.”

  “I’m really sorry, Uncle Eric.”

  He sounded as if he was this time.

  Eric went through the same drill with Ian, except that Ian was a lot tougher customer. Threatened with the loss of his toys, he said, “I don’t care. You can have them if you want.”

  “You won’t feel that way when you have nothing to play with.”

  “I’ll just tell the policeman you’re ’busing me.” The kid was diabolical.

  “Where did you hear about abuse?”

  “At my baby-sitter. She said always tell the police if we were getting ’bused.” His chin wobbled and he whined, “When is my mommy coming for me? I wanna go to my house.”

  Eric caved. He took the kid in his arms and held him close.

  “Mommy’s gonna send you a letter really soon.”

  “With the mailman?”

  “Yup.”

  For some reason that seemed to mollify Ian, and he promised he wouldn’t pee anywhere except in the toilet.

  By the time he’d wrestled the kids into their shoes, found jackets and the action figure Ian wo
uldn’t leave behind, and waited fifteen minutes while Simon had a leisurely bowel movement, Eric had fifteen minutes left to get to Tessa’s, and it was a twenty-minute drive.

  He considered calling and telling her he was running late, but he decided not to. He’d chance running a few red lights before he’d give her the impression he didn’t figure being on time was important.

  Except he couldn’t run lights, not with the kids in the van. He drove with caution, using the time to lecture Simon and Ian on how they were to behave, no whining, no complaining, no deliberate burping. No farting.

  That still left time to think about Tessa and wonder if she was thinking about his desk the way he’d been all day, although she didn’t have to work on it the way he did. He wondered what to say to her when they met, whether she’d be self-conscious. He’d make an extra effort to put her at ease.

  They’d all have a great time, he assured himself. The kids would be worn out early, and they’d take them home and then have dinner at the Laundry. They’d talk, and then he’d ask her up to see his creations in his clean and tidy apartment. She’d actually seemed to like the stuff he had in his office. He couldn’t wait to show her Dog. That would be it, though. No sex, even though it made him sweat to remember how she’d wrapped those long legs around him.

  When he got to her office, he rang the bell and waited for what seemed a long time. She wouldn’t have given up on him and gone home, would she? Ten minutes late wasn’t that bad.

  The outside door finally opened, and he hauled the boys on the elevator and up to her office, but Tessa wasn’t there. A woman in black leather pants that accentuated astonishing hips and a black T- shirt that said BIKER CHICK in gold glitter was sitting behind her desk. She had haircut in a brush cut and dyed a funny shade of orangey red. She also had a lot of mascara and purple lipstick.