Uninhibited (Unlikely Lovers)

by Brooks, Cheryl

  “Aw, c’mon, man!” Jason urged. “We need details.”

  They were bound to meet Emily eventually. Better get it over with… “She should be here around five-thirty. We’re going out to dinner.”

  Shona gaped at him as though he’d suddenly developed spots. “A date? After all this time, you’ve actually got a date?”

  “Yes.” Alan rolled his eyes. “I have a date.”

  “Yeah, but I bet you’ve already—” Jason had the good sense to leave off the rest of his comment as two elderly ladies approached.

  Alan didn’t know her sidekick’s name, but he certainly knew Jane. Tiny, frail, and every bit of ninety-five years old, Jane was persnickety about her produce—which may have contributed to her longevity.

  “Alan, dear,” Jane began. “Are you sure this parsley is quite fresh? It looks a bit…wilted.”

  “Came in on the truck this morning,” Alan replied, smiling. “Can’t get much fresher than that. Maybe we need to trim the stems again and add fresh water to the container.”

  “That should help,” Jane agreed. “And where is that lovely soap I used to get—the kind with sage and rosemary?”

  “Temporarily discontinued,” Alan replied. “I’ll have to check my suppliers and see if I can get it from another source.”

  “Thank you, dear. You’re such a delightful boy. Found a girl yet?”

  Alan was beginning to suspect a conspiracy. “Yes, I have. She’s—perfect.”

  “Oh, I doubt that.” Jane glanced at his groin, tapping her chin with an arthritic finger. “Is she a good, strong girl?”

  I do not want to be having this conversation. “She seems to be.”

  “That’s nice. Try not to run this one off.” Humming a lively tune, she strolled on down the supplements aisle, stopping by the feminine products section. “Might want to give her some of this,” she said, tossing him a bottle of cranberry extract. “If what I hear is true, she’ll need it.” With a nod in Alan’s direction, she turned to her companion. “Wish I’d known him seventy-five years ago.”

  Jason and Shona were both sputtering with barely suppressed laughter but threw up their hands in protest of their innocence when Alan shot them an accusatory glare.

  Who in the world would’ve told Jane?

  Vivian? No way. She was married, which meant that keeping mum about their one brief encounter would be even more important to her than it was to him. Alan certainly hadn’t shared the particulars with anyone. After all, a pity fuck followed by a crying jag wasn’t anything to brag about. Even Travis only knew that Alan had fucked a married woman. He knew nothing about her identity.

  Then again, the freshness of the parsley might not be the only topic bandied about among the regulars. If Vivian knew Jane, she might’ve mentioned that she’d heard some talk about Alan’s history with women.

  Alan started to put the cranberry extract back on the shelf, but carried it over to Shona’s checkout lane instead. “Here, hang onto this for me.”

  Ignoring her snicker, he headed back to the produce department. Keeping his relationship with Emily a secret was impossible, but he’d just as soon spare her all the wisecracks. Hopefully, his staff would get the snide remarks over with quickly. He checked his watch.

  Five hours to go. Should he call her yet? He’d held off this long, but would she think he’d forgotten if he didn’t call? Would she still show up?

  “Damn. I need some tea.” Stalking back to the deli, he poured out a cup of the chamomile blend that had seen him through a year of sexual abstinence. One sip informed him it wouldn’t be enough. Eighty-five percent cacao probably wouldn’t help, either.

  Flipping open his phone, he hit the speed dial.

  * * * *

  Emily had just sat down to lunch in the office lounge when her phone rang. “Hey, Alan, I’ve been wondering when you were going to call.” The way he’d talked, she expected him to call at least every two hours. “You aren’t thinking of backing out on me, are you?”

  “Of course not,” Alan replied. “I just wanted to check and see how you were feeling.”

  “Not completely cured, but much better. Thank you for asking.”

  “Good. I’m so sorry about that. I never meant to make you sick.”

  She had to bite her lip to keep from giggling at his choice of words. “I know you didn’t. Have you given any thought to where we’re going for dinner?”

  A muted exclamation drew her eye to Kathy, who was seated across the table, eyeing her curiously.

  “I know this great Thai place over on Second Street. It’s very, um…romantic.”

  Emily smiled. So Mr. Sexaholic wants to be romantic, huh? “Sounds great.”

  “See you at about five-thirty?”

  “You bet.”

  She switched off her phone and met Kathy’s speculative gaze. “What?”

  “I thought you were walking funny.” She arched a brow. “Now I know why. You’ve got a new boyfriend.”

  Emily grimaced. “Is it that obvious?”

  “Well…I suppose you could’ve gone horseback riding this weekend. The effects are similar, you know.” Somehow her sweet, grandmotherly smile didn’t quite match the suggestive nature of her tone.

  “Not likely, seeing as how I’m terrified of anything larger than a German shepherd.”

  “Really? I didn’t know that about you.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s not something I mention very often—one of my more ridiculous quirks, actually—but no, I haven’t been on a horse.”

  “Ah, so you’re the one who’s been rode hard and put up wet—or is it that he’s hung like a horse?”

  Considering that Alan had somehow grown at least one condom size—had he bothered to wear one—all Emily could do was nod.

  “Have fun?”

  Emily’s lips curled into a smile.

  “That’s nice. I hope this one works out—it isn’t Stephen, is it?”

  “No. He’s a guy who lives across the hall from my brother.” This sounded better than referring to him as a clinging stranger she’d met in a parking lot.

  “There’s been some talk about you two getting together,” she went on. “I didn’t put much stock in it, though, because I’m pretty sure Stephen is gay.”

  Emily’s jaw dropped. “What makes you think that?”

  “Nothing specific. Just a gut feeling.” Clearly Kathy’s gut feelings were more reliable than those of anyone else in the office. “Although he is pretty cute. The cute ones are nearly always gay.”

  Following a brief nod, Kathy resumed her interrogation. “Do you really like this new guy, or is he just a passing fling?”

  “I really like him. He’s very sweet.” Tasty, too.

  “Handsome?”

  “Hmm…he’s not the tall, dark, and rugged type, if that’s what you mean. Actually, he’s sort of scruffy—but cute.”

  “Sexy?”

  Compared to Alan, every other man in existence might as well have been neutered. “Extremely.”

  “Well, then, that’s all that matters, isn’t it?” Obviously taking note of Emily’s bemused expression, she added, “Really, dear. Why is it that no one ever seems to think I would know about such things? I had four children. Trust me, I understand the concept.”

  “I suppose it’s the grandmotherly demeanor,” Emily replied. “No one suspects it of you.”

  “Yes, but to be a grandmother, you have to have children of your own first, and to have children, you have to have sex—unless, of course you adopt or go the artificial insemination route. Honestly, I’ve never understood those lofty ideas about motherhood, when, technically, all you really have to do to be a mother is to get laid.”

  Emily eyed her friend with newfound respect. “You never cease to amaze me.”

  “I know.” Kathy patted Emily’s arm in a kindly fashion. “And it’s such a joy to be able to do that.”

  Chapter 15

  Stephen stopped by Emily’s desk after lunch, trigge
ring a flutter of interest from the nearby cubicles. Apparently, the bets were still on.

  If they only knew. Hopefully, Kathy would spread the word about Alan before any more money changed hands.

  “What’s up?” she asked.

  Heaving a sigh, Stephen licked his lips before tucking them between his teeth. Clearly, he had something to say. He just didn’t want to say it. “Certainly not my dick,” he muttered.

  “I’d be surprised if it was.”

  He shifted nervously from one foot to the other. “Do you—” Raking his teeth over his upper lip, he stuck his hands in his pockets. “Would you…um, like to go out to dinner tonight? I’ll understand if you have other plans, but…”

  “As it happens, I already have plans. Mind telling me why you’re asking? I’m not exactly your type.”

  “The guys have been driving me nuts ever since my birthday. I guess you’ve heard about the bets.”

  “Yes, I have, and it’s pretty ridiculous, really. I mean, I danced with Reece, too. Granted, he didn’t come in my face, but he had his hands all over me.”

  To look any more miserable, Stephen would’ve had to have tears running down his cheeks. “I’m pretty sure he’s got a girlfriend, so nobody’s bugging him. Listen, if tonight’s no good, how about tomorrow?”

  She shook her head. “I can’t. Believe it or not, I’ve actually got a date with a new boyfriend. I don’t think he’d like the idea.”

  Alan had said he wasn’t the jealous type, and he certainly had no reason to be jealous of Stephen—unless someone told him the birthday story. Emily hadn’t mentioned it yet and wasn’t sure she needed to. After all, everybody had a few skeletons in their closets, and Alan probably had more than most.

  “Oh. Great. Glad to hear it.”

  “You don’t look very happy,” she observed. “Could you at least smile?”

  As smiles went, it was rather weak. “Sorry. I was hoping to—oh, hell. I don’t know what I’m hoping.”

  “You’ve still never explained the reason for all the secrecy.”

  Dropping his head, he stared down at his shoes. “Just a wuss, I guess.”

  “You didn’t seem very wussy on your birthday—quite the opposite, in fact. I know it’s none of my business, but I can’t help thinking you’d be happier if you were a little more…open.”

  “It’s my own fault for not admitting it sooner,” he said. “I’ve thought about it, but it would screw up so many things.”

  “And it might make a lot of other things easier. In the meantime, why don’t you tell everybody about my boyfriend? That would get you off the hook for now, wouldn’t it?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I still don’t see why—I mean, haven’t you ever been to a bar or a club?”

  “Yes, but those places always seem so impersonal. Honestly, I’m not looking for a quick, meaningless fuck. I want to find someone to fall in love with. You have to be so careful about who you approach.”

  Alan hadn’t been very careful. He’d spoken to a strange woman sitting in her car in a parking lot, and whether he’d thought she had understanding hair or not didn’t make it any more personal—or safe. At least Emily had sense enough not to go home with a man she’d never seen before.

  “I agree, but at some point, you have to take a chance. I met Alan when I stopped for ice cream one night.”

  “Wish I could get that lucky.”

  “Maybe you will someday. One thing for sure, hanging out at ‘gentleman’s clubs’ with the guys from the office probably won’t help you find what you’re looking for. Sure, there might be some other closeted guy there against his will, but what are the odds?”

  “Slim to none,” he agreed. “I really hate going to bars.”

  “I know what you mean. I wish I knew someone to introduce to you. Ever try the Internet?”

  His panic-stricken expression suggested he had. “Once. I wound up getting gang-banged by a bunch of perverts—which is not an experience I care to repeat. They were into pain—inflicting it, that is.”

  “Yikes!” He had her limp dick story beat hands down. “Meeting Alan was a little chancy, too. My brother intended to introduce us—they live in the same apartment building—but that isn’t how I met him. Romance in the workplace might be risky, but at least you have a chance to get to know a person before you go out with them.”

  He smiled sheepishly. “I wish I’d been different, Emily. Sorry.”

  “That’s not what I meant, although I appreciate the sentiment. I hope you find someone.”

  Nodding, he gave her hand a squeeze and drifted back to his desk. Although the office gossipmongers would undoubtedly have fun with that gesture, it was nothing compared to the field day they’d have if they ever found out he was gay. Then again, his confession might bring someone else out of the closet, especially if they’d witnessed his performance at The Mouse’s Tail. She still couldn’t believe anyone as shy as Stephen would do such a thing.

  He must’ve been drunk as hell. Still, he was cute as a button and very sweet.

  Like Alan. She stared at her phone, wishing he would call. Four times a day, he’d said. So far, he’d only called once. Was that significant? Had she already succeeded in turning him off? The bladder infection might have done it. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. This wasn’t a horrific case by any means—being well-versed in the symptoms, she’d caught it in time—however, it still made intercourse unwise, at least for a while. Would he be able to wait that long?

  Ordinarily, she would’ve remembered to take a prophylactic dose of Septra. Apparently Alan was messing with her mind. Sweet, well-hung, and adorable, he distracted her way too much. She was quite rational and clear-headed as a rule. One weekend with him had her licking cookie dough off his dick.

  And to think, just a few weeks ago, she’d been so depressed the only thing she could think about was what to get Mitch for Christmas. Dancing with Reece and Stephen had been fun, but now, she had a date lined up with Alan.

  They’d known each other such a short time, it was anyone’s guess how this would turn out. If, for example, they were to marry and have children, would he still run around naked? Or would wearing clothes be such a hardship he would refuse to have any kids at all? She made a mental note to ask him about that. His desire for nudity might turn out to be the real reason he was still single.

  They hadn’t discussed marriage yet—on any level. When he’d said he wanted their relationship to work out and never end, had he meant marriage? Had he ever considered marrying any of his other girlfriends? He’d never mentioned living with any of them except the woman who’d escaped via the bathroom window. Was she the only one? Or had he lied about all the girls who’d dumped him?

  No. Those stories were so unbelievable they had to be true, and about all they could earn him was pity. He didn’t seem to want sympathy, but he did tell her he had to move fast before a woman decided she couldn’t stand him.

  As needy as he was, he might not like the idea of having to share his wife/girlfriend with anyone else, which meant that he might not even want kids. On the other hand, given his intense need for sex and his allergy to latex, there was a distinct possibility that he’d fathered a few of them already. Perhaps he felt it was too soon to spring them on her.

  She had so much to learn about him and hoped they could get some talking done during their date. A bladder infection wouldn’t stop her from having to jack him off constantly once they got home, but at least he’d have to keep his pants on in a restaurant. Maybe that was why he’d asked her out. Maybe it was the only way…

  * * * *

  I’ve only called her the one time. She said two to start with. I said four.

  Alan consulted his watch. Five o’clock. Emily would be there in another thirty minutes. He was already watching the door. So were Jason and Shona. They’d been giggling and shooting teasing glances at him for the past hour.

  My dick is killing me. Would he be able to get through dinne
r without fucking her on the table? Of course he would. He’d never resorted to—

  Sex in a public place? He imagined a roomful of strangers watching him slide his dick into Emily’s fabulous pussy. Her succulent tits rocking back and forth while he fucked her. Her lips forming a soft O as she sighed in ecstasy. His balls tightening as they threatened to explode…

  Don’t go there. Not tonight. She’s sick, remember?

  The cranberry pills were in his pocket, already paid for. He had to keep his hands to himself—well, his dick, anyway. He’d done it while decorating her Christmas tree. He could at least hold out through dinner. The spicy Thai food would help. Maybe.

  Speaking of food… He glanced down at his apron, which was stained with tomato juice and guacamole. After working all day in the deli and the produce department, he probably smelled like garlic and onions and sweat.

  My, how sexy.

  His clothes were probably clean enough underneath, but he should’ve told her he’d show her the store another time and taken off early to shower and change. She deserved more than a smelly grocer.

  He wiped the sweat from his upper lip with a cold, clammy hand—yet another unappealing characteristic. This might not have been a typical first date, but his body sure thought it was.

  “Yo, Alan,” Jason stage whispered from behind his cash register. “Heads up. I think your woman’s here.”

  “How the hell would you know what she looks like?”

  “I don’t.” He pointed toward the door. “But that woman isn’t pushing a cart.”

  Good clue. “You oughta be a detective.”

  Jason snickered. “Yeah, right. I can really see me solving crimes.”

  “Stranger things have happened,” Shona remarked. “I mean, she’s actually pretty.”

  “What, you think I couldn’t have a pretty girlfriend?” Alan demanded.

  “Just a comment.” Shona focused her assessing gaze on Emily. “Great hair.”

  Oh, shit. “You keep your hands off her,” Alan snarled. “She’s mine.”

  “I’m what?” Emily asked as she approached. “Did I just hear you go all possessive Neanderthal on me?”