Absolute Beginners (Absolute #1)

by S. J. Hooks

  She’s not like other women at all.

  Frowning, I recalled my previous experiences in the bedroom: fumbling, nervous touches underneath the covers with women who didn’t offer words of confirmation or encouragement. The mortifying realization that they weren’t enjoying themselves and I had failed to make them climax. Subsequent awkward conversations, breakups, disappointment, and self-doubt, all made me doubt my abilities as a lover. That summed up my sexual past and I hated thinking about it. Eventually, it drove me into celibacy. Having a brother who openly bragged about his many conquests—the trail of satisfied women all over the Bay Area who, in his own words, were begging him for more—coupled with my own embarrassing experiences had left me despondent and weary.

  But then Julia had come along. Julia, with her openness and no-nonsense attitude toward sex, who’d shown me how great it could feel to lose oneself in physical pleasure and not constantly focus on cerebral matters. She was a breath of fresh air and I’d be a fool not to like her for that reason alone.

  It’s not a date, but I still want to give her a great night at my place.

  I could reciprocate her kindness with a nice home-cooked meal, which I was under the impression was something of a rarity for Julia since she didn’t cook at all. Happy with my decision, I finished grocery shopping and raced home to my apartment, knowing that I had plenty to do before she arrived. Thankfully, I had just cleaned the day before so I didn’t have to worry about that.

  Not that she would care with the clutter she’s used to living in.

  I started dinner immediately because I knew that Julia was hungry already and I didn’t want her to have to wait too long once she arrived. I had decided to make chicken cacciatore, which took almost an hour to cook, and I was already behind schedule. I could have made her something simpler with what I’d already had at home, but I wanted her to enjoy her time here. It might encourage her to come back another night.

  I prepared the chicken pieces and browned them, moving onto the vegetables while I thought about what would happen when she arrived. I found it impossible to predict Julia’s behavior most of the time, but I still tried. As I was thinking through the possibilities, a frightening notion hit me.

  What if she cancels?

  She had seemed a bit reluctant when I’d invited her and I suddenly worried that she might have changed her mind. I checked my phone, but thankfully she hadn’t texted me since I’d left her apartment. I went back into the kitchen where I covered the chicken and vegetables with diced tomatoes and a little white wine, leaving it to simmer while I boiled water for the fresh pasta that I’d picked up. I decided to slice some ciabatta as well. I knew that Julia could eat a lot compared to most women I’d dated, which was rather refreshing.

  I set the table and wondered if Julia might feel inspired to buy a dining table once she realized how nice it was to eat at one. She could just get a small one with two chairs for when I visited her.

  No, probably not. I bet she likes eating in bed. She doesn’t strike me as the kind of girl who cares about doing what others do.

  I looked around my apartment and tried to view it with neutral eyes: hardwood floors; white walls with a few paintings in subtle tones, all in metal frames; a dark-gray couch, a coffee table, a dining table, and bookshelves in light-colored wood. It didn’t give much away about the person who lived there, except that he was obviously a stickler for order. My books, records, and movies were alphabetized and divided into genres, the surfaces were clean, and I had a very low tolerance for knickknacks. My apartment looked the exact opposite of Julia’s place, and I was fairly sure that she’d hate it.

  She probably won’t come back if she doesn’t like it here.

  I pulled out the candles that I’d bought at the store and rummaged through several drawers before I found some candlesticks, a gift from my mother that I had never used. After setting the table and lighting the candles, I thought about dinner music, a more daunting task. Julia seemed to love music and I was a little worried that she wouldn’t like my taste. I decided to let her pick the music tonight.

  After a quick shower, I changed into a light sweater and a pair of dark khaki pants, which hung too low on my hips. But as I automatically reached for a belt, I remembered my brother’s criticism—“geriatric.”

  And I wear my pants too high, apparently.

  Hoping that Matt was correct, I decided to go without the belt and resisted the urge to pull my pants up. I kept my hair as it was since I’d only received compliments since I’d stopped taming it. I still thought it looked a little peculiar, but everyone else said that it looked good.

  The doorbell rang. I felt a fluttering in my stomach again and my heart pounded faster.

  I must be more nervous than I thought.

  I rushed to the door, ridiculously eager to see Julia again, and practically ripped it open. She stared back at me, and a second later I was thrown up against the wall with her pressed against me, her lips on mine, kissing me hungrily. It only took me a moment to recover from the attack before I picked her up and turned us around so I was the one pinning her against the wall. She wrapped her legs around my waist and fisted her small hands in my hair. The kiss deepened and she moaned into my mouth when I kneaded her backside and ground into her.

  “Fuck!” she panted, breaking the kiss. “I want you, but I’m completely starved, too.”

  I let out a small laugh and lowered her legs. “Let’s have some dinner,” I said, before I cupped her face and gave her a quick kiss.

  “Yeah, sounds good,” she breathed. I looked at her, happy to see that she hadn’t put on any makeup and her hair was still braided. Her outfit was different, though. She was wearing a short black skirt and a tight red T-shirt with some writing on it.

  “Don’t you ever get cold?” I blurted out.

  “No, not when I’m standing next to someone as hot as you,” she answered with a grin. “You look so good tonight, Stephen. That’s why I jumped you.”

  “I do?”

  “Yeah, I’ve never seen you look so casual before.”

  “Oh, is that, um, good?”

  “I think so. You’re usually all Mr. Prim-and-Proper, but tonight you just look…sexy as hell,” she said, looking me up and down.

  My cheeks grew warmer under her scrutiny and she laughed a little.

  “You’re so fucking cute sometimes,” she said, and before I knew it she was back in my arms and had me pressed against the wall as we kissed passionately.

  I picked her up again and, without breaking the kiss, managed to close the door and carry her into the living room where we ended up on the couch. Her hands were all over me and I was ready to forget all about eating when her stomach growled. She laughed.

  “Dinner?” I murmured against her neck, where I’d been busy kissing her soft, warm skin.

  “Dinner,” she confirmed.

  I helped her up and straightened my clothes while she did the same. I felt a little awkward, but she seemed perfectly at ease with the whole situation, smiling at me. I had no idea what to say to her and felt my familiar nervousness returning.

  “Um, would you like some wine?”

  “Sure, red if you have it,” she said, looking around.

  I escaped into the kitchen, taking a couple of deep breaths while I poured the wine and dropped the pasta into the water. She was perusing my books when I came back and I handed her a glass, noting with dissatisfaction that my hand shook a bit.

  “Are you going to give me a tour?” she asked, taking a sip.

  “Er, sure.”

  I showed her the kitchen, my office, the bathroom, and the bedroom.

  “So, um, what do you think?”

  “It’s great,” she said. “Exactly what I expected and yet completely different.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Well, I can see that you’re a bit of a fuddy-duddy,” she teased, nudging me with her elbow.

  I can’t really argue with that.

&nbs
p; “And that’s what you’re like in class, mostly, so it makes sense.” She hesitated, and I could see that she wanted to say something else.

  “But?”

  “I’m just a little surprised that it’s so…cold,” she finally said.

  “I can turn up the thermostat.”

  She laughed. “No, I didn’t mean the temperature. It just seems a little austere.”

  “Austere?” I asked. “Because I don’t have any comforts or luxuries?”

  “Exactly,” she said. “It doesn’t really seem like you at all. Your apartment is a little cold, and you’re extremely hot, as we established.”

  “Um, no one else sees me that way, I don’t think. And I like things to be in place.”

  She nodded and looked around again. “You must hate my apartment,” she chuckled, and went back into the living room.

  I really do. But I can live with it because you’re there.

  I didn’t tell her that and followed her.

  “I’ll check on the food,” I said. “You can pick out some music, if you’d like.”

  She nodded and went over to my stereo system while I went into the kitchen.

  OK, it’s going well so far.

  I carried the food to the table. Julia was still looking for something to listen to.

  “Can you find anything you like?” I asked.

  Probably not.

  She turned and smiled. “I can’t believe you have actual vinyl records! Most people I know don’t even have CDs anymore. All my music is on this,” she said, pulling the tiny music player from her skirt pocket.

  “Oh.” Once again, I felt hopelessly outdated.

  “But it’s cool,” she reassured me. “Vintage, right?”

  “I guess.” I shrugged. “Did you find anything you’d like to listen to?”

  “I don’t really know a lot of these,” she admitted, turning her attention to the albums again. “There’s a lot of classical and opera. Not what I’m used to.”

  “Oh, sorry,” I said lamely, although I had no idea why I was apologizing about my taste in music.

  “Ah, here we are,” she said happily, pulling one out. “I know this guy.”

  I put on the Leonard Cohen album that she chose, smiling at her fascination with my turntable. The first track, “Suzanne,” started, and the music made Julia’s face light up.

  She’s so beautiful.

  I really wanted to kiss her again. Tentatively, I palmed her right cheek before leaning down to brush my lips against hers. The music flowed around us as she kissed me back, slowly and gently, and I felt the unfamiliar fluttering in my stomach again. I didn’t have time to dwell on it because Julia ended the kiss abruptly, taking a small step back.

  “Wow…intense,” she said quietly. “His voice is hypnotic.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed, wishing that she hadn’t pulled away. “Um, are you hungry?”

  She shook her head, as if to clear it, and took a deep breath. “Starving.”

  We walked over to the table, where I started to pull out her chair as she sat down.

  “Oh, sorry,” she said. “Is this your usual seat?”

  “Um, no,” I said. “Um” had apparently become a common word in my vocabulary since I started seeing Julia privately.

  “Then why are you stealing my chair?” she asked, looking amused.

  “I, uh, I was pulling it out for you?” I said, although it sounded more like a question.

  “O…kay? Why?”

  “It’s polite,” I said, scratching my neck.

  “Really? Hmm, I never knew that,” she said, sitting down.

  “You’ve never been on a date before?”

  Shit! Why did I say “date”? This isn’t a date.

  “Uh, not that this is a date or anything,” I added, taking a seat across from her.

  She gave me a dubious look. “Look, Stephen. I appreciate you cooking, but you really don’t have to do this whole ‘wine and dine’ routine with me. You’re still going to get laid, OK?”

  Does she think I have an ulterior motive?

  “That’s not why I…” I motioned to the food. “I didn’t do it for…that.”

  “Then why did you?” she asked, seeming genuinely curious.

  “I just…I like, um, ‘hanging out’ with you,” I said, making air quotes. “Or whatever you kids are calling it these days.”

  She laughed a little and the tension evaporated. “I like hanging out with you too,” she said. “And this looks delicious.”

  I reached for her plate, but pulled my hand back again. I was about to ask her if I could serve her, but changed my mind because that would probably fall in the “things I would do on a date” category. I sighed. This was difficult.

  “What is it?”

  “I’m, um, I’m not used to spending time with a woman like this. I mean, without it being a date. I’m used to doing certain things and it’s hard to break the pattern.”

  “What sort of things?” she asked.

  “Pulling out your chair, serving you dinner, and pouring the wine for you. Those sorts of things,” I said, motioning for her to take some food.

  “Oh, all that gentleman stuff you see on TV,” she said, helping herself to a generous serving.

  I wanted to tell her that gentlemen weren’t just mythical creatures reserved for fairytales and TV shows and that, if she wanted me to, I could do a pretty good job of being one. It had always been important to me to respect women and treat them like ladies. I knew some saw that as an old-fashioned notion, but to me it felt natural. After my father died, I was the man of the house and I took pride in caring for my mom. It had just been the two of us for a while before Richard and Matt had entered our lives, and that period of time had influenced me a lot. I’d kept my mother company as she watched old Hollywood movies and told me the story of how she and my father met in college, and how he was different from the other guys she had known—a perfect gentleman and a genuinely good and caring person who always treated her right. I wanted to be just like him. But Julia wasn’t interested in those qualities, so I didn’t say anything.

  “Hey,” she said, flashing her lopsided grin at me. “Just pretend that I’m your brother when we hang out.”

  “Not if you ever want me to touch you again,” I blurted.

  “Oh, I definitely want you to touch me again,” she said, smiling.

  “That’s, uh, good,” I said, fighting with my nerves.

  “It will be good,” she practically purred, twirling the pasta around her fork.

  Is she flirting? And when did eating pasta become erotic?

  Apparently, it had become erotic right around the time Julia parted her lips and slid the fork into her mouth. The fact that she let out a small moan when she tasted it didn’t make matters any easier for me and I shifted a little in my seat.

  “This is delicious!”

  “Thank you,” I said, completely mesmerized by her lips.

  “You’re not eating,” she said, taking another bite.

  “I know,” I replied, making no move to do so.

  “So, I was pretty surprised that I didn’t hear from you at all this past week,” she said, changing the topic.

  “You were?”

  “Yes. I expected a text from you at least once. Why didn’t you write me?”

  Because I was afraid you’d say no.

  “Um, you didn’t contact me either,” I said, feeling very juvenile.

  She shrugged. “I had my period. But I would have helped you out, if you’d been in the mood one night.”

  I didn’t think it wise to tell her that ever since I’d started sleeping with her, I was in the mood every single night.

  “OK,” I said and started eating.

  “This works both ways, Stephen. You get that, right?”

  I nodded.

  “Good, just send me a text if you’re up for some fun one night. If I’m home, I won’t say no.”

  I nodded again. “Did you…?”

/>   “Did I what?”

  “Did you plan what happened today? I mean, did you know you were going to invite me to your place after class?”

  “Oh, yeah,” she giggled. “I had a good feeling you’d want to come over after seeing me in that outfit.”

  “How did you know?”

  “Stephen, please. I was playing the role of a naughty schoolgirl, and you’re a teacher. It doesn’t take a genius.”

  Oh, God, I am such a pervert.

  “There’s nothing wrong with having fantasies,” she said softly.

  “I know.”

  “I really liked what we did today. Didn’t you?”

  “Yes, I liked it,” I said, lowering my eyes to my plate.

  “Fantasies are a lot of fun to live out,” she continued.

  “Is that what you’re doing with me?” I blurted out, lifting my gaze to her.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, frowning.

  “Am I your professor fantasy?” I whispered.

  The thought came out of nowhere, but now that it had entered my mind, I couldn’t ignore it.

  Will she get her fill of me soon and move on to the next one?

  Her facial features changed from confusion to understanding. “No! I mean, yes, you’re my professor and I’ve wanted to fuck you since the first class, but it’s not a fantasy per se. If I’d met you somewhere else I still would have wanted to do this with you.”

  I was flattered that she wanted me, regardless of my position. I wasn’t sure why she wanted me, though. I knew that I had many good qualities to bring into a relationship: I was loyal and honest, I liked taking care of others, I was a good listener, and so on. But I wasn’t sure of any of those merits really mattered to Julia. She seemed to mostly enjoy my body, which admittedly hurt a little, even though I knew that was the basis of our arrangement.

  Or…was it? Here we were, eating dinner and conversing, like we actually were on a date.

  “What…what is this?” I asked, unable to stop myself. “What are we? Sex buddies?” I’d heard Matt use that expression before when discussing casual sex partners.