No Ordinary Bloke

by Mary Whitney

  “It does.” I said looking at the brightening sky. “So how long do you have?”

  “I took part of the day off.” Her smile was sheepish. “My flight back is this evening.”

  “But when do you need to go back to work?”

  “I’m not going back to work.”

  “Are you saying that we have the entire day together?” My whole mood brightened.

  “I don’t know. What’s your schedule?”

  “I’ve set it up so I’m very flexible.” I nodded toward the ferry building. “Shall we get some coffee or breakfast?”

  “Coffee sounds great.”

  We wandered into the ferry building and found a café. She ordered a nonfat latte, and I had my usual cup of black coffee. After we sat down, she pulled out a map of San Francisco. “So what should we do today?”

  “You’re prepared, aren’t you? You’ve been here for a week. What have you seen?”

  “Oh, so much.” She scowled as she took a sip of her latte. “I’ve seen the walk from the Greystone building to my hotel, though I didn’t even get that all the time. We had some really long days, and if it was late, I’d take a cab. So I’ve seen nothing. It’s been a hell of week, which is why I don’t mind taking today off.”

  “That’s no fun at all.”

  “I know.”

  I took a sip of my coffee and ventured, “Don’t get me wrong. I want to be here with you, but why didn’t Trey come out with? You could’ve had a mini-break. Maybe gone to Napa. You travel all the time. Does he ever join you?”

  “Well, he travels, too. I don’t know. It’s just not something we’ve done together.” She shrugged. “Sometimes we plan our trips at the same time so that we can be home together.”

  “That’s nice.” Really, it made me want to vomit, but I played along.

  “For example, right now he’s in Paris.”

  “What’s he doing there?”

  “He’s working on some deal…I don’t know. Maybe with Airbus. That may be it. He and Melanie left on Monday a few hours after my flight. They come back on Sunday night.”

  My voice became deadpan. “He took Melanie to Paris.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why did he do that?”

  “He thinks she’s smart. He’s trying to give her some challenges.”

  I bet he’s trying to give her some challenges…challenges with his dick. I stared out onto the San Francisco Bay. The giant Bay Bridge made the large ferries passing through seem small. Trying to contain my disbelief, I said casually, “Really? Do they travel together often?”

  I expected her to say “no”, but to my shock she shrugged. “Not that often. I guess once a month.”

  “That seems like quite a bit to me.”

  She shifted in her seat. “Listen. I know what you’re thinking.”

  “Oh yeah?” I wanted to hear her articulate what was obviously a completely cocked up situation.

  “You think he’s cheating on me with Melanie.”

  She glared at me with such withering determination that a coffee break seemed like a good idea to break the tension. After taking a drink, I said, “It’s probably best that I don’t say what I’m thinking.”

  “I’m not an idiot if that’s your take. Of course, it’s unusual for an assistant to work so closely with his or her boss. I’m aware of that. Believe me. My girlfriends have said similar things, but Melanie is more than just an assistant to Trey. She’s like his right hand, and he’s training her. He thinks she has real promise.”

  I tapped the table, creating a distraction for myself. If I didn’t watch it, I was going to let a joke slip that might make her run from the room. After a moment, I asked, “So you and Trey have discussed this?”

  “We have. Not a lot. He’s just made it clear that he has no interest in her other than work. I believe him.” She punctuated it with a nod which didn’t seem altogether confident.

  Trey’s behavior had to have raised some eyebrows, but for whatever reason, people at Greystone let it go. Maybe they thought he’d never do something so stupid, or do anything that stupid when his girlfriend works in HR. But I bet those girlfriends of Allison’s weren’t as convinced. It was my experience that a woman’s mates usually had a better read on a situation than the woman herself.

  My silence must have unnerved her because she started speaking rapidly. “And I believe him because it doesn’t make sense for it to be otherwise. In my line of work, I’ve seen lots of office affairs. This one wouldn’t make sense. There are too many eyes on him, and I work in HR. Why would he ever do anything so ridiculously stupid? If I found out, I’d have a duty to report him.” She laughed. “In addition to dumping his sorry ass.”

  “It would be the height of hubris for him to cheat on you with his assistant right under your nose.” Again, I tried to say it nonchalantly, when really I’d bet my beloved Tesla that Melanie was on her knees servicing Trey at that very moment in a Parisian hotel room. Audacity was the downfall of men like Trey—men who’d been handed everything to them in life, men who never got caught or if they did, they bought their way out of it, powerful men who lied so effortlessly that they had everyone believing what they said including themselves. I may have been a cocky, womanizing arsehole with a raging temper, but I could never be accused of hubris.

  “True.” Somehow my comment had given her more confidence. Her voice was strong. “He’d never do that to me, and he certainly wouldn’t do it with a twenty-something. She’s over thirty years younger than him. What do they even have in common? Not to mention, she probably doesn’t want to even think of him like that.”

  This conversation needed to end. Somehow a twenty year age difference was okay, but thirty years was too much? I’d reached the end of my ability to humor her denial. Stretching my arms, I yawned. “Well, I don’t want to think of him like that either.”

  “Very funny.” She playfully rolled her eyes.

  “So let’s get back to my original question, which was what are we going to do today?”

  She spread the map out on the table, setting it so we could both read it. “I don’t know. Let’s look at the sights.” She pointed to a spot not far from us. “How about Coit Tower? I’ve heard there are great views from it.”

  “That giant knob on a hill over there?”

  “Knob on a hill?” She pointed another area of the map. “Do you mean Nob Hill? That’s over here.”

  “No, though they really should’ve named Coit Tower’s hill Knob Hill rather than Telegraph Hill.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Only that Coit Tower is a big phallic symbol perched on a hill.”

  “This I need to see,” she said with a smile.

  After another half hour, we caught a taxi to get to the base of the hill. From there, we hiked the rest of the way up the steps. We were lucky it was still early in the day when we arrived at the top because there were fewer tourists. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she leaned back and stared straight up the tower. “It is tall.”

  “That it is,” I said before looking away. “Big stiffy if you ask me.”

  She pointed to the information signs. “They say that it’s supposed to be a fire hose.”

  “It’s quite a bloody hose.”

  Swatting me on the arm, Allison laughed. “Come on. Be serious. The woman who donated it to the city was a patron of the fire department.”

  “A patron of the fire department, you say?” I laughed. “You think maybe she fancied firemen so much that she built a giant dick in their honor? What better way for a benefactress to show her devotion.”

  “They built it after her death, you dork.”

  “Bugger. It was such a good hypothesis.”

  We went inside the tower, examined the beautiful murals, and rode the elevator to the top of the tower for the view of San Francisco and its Bay. Afterward we found a private park bench on the grounds of the monument.

  “It’s gorgeous here,” she said.

 
; “Indeed.” I glanced at her and smiled. “Beautiful.”

  Holding her gaze, I know she got my drift, even though she didn’t acknowledge it. She bit her lip and looked away. Waiting a few seconds, she turned to me. “So who are you dating these days?”

  “Dating?”

  “Or whatever it is you call what you do with women.”

  “What I call it? I think we use the same vocabulary for the most part.” I laughed. “British English isn’t that different.”

  “So then answer my question. Who are you dating? You have to be dating or seeing or having sex with somebody.”

  A braver, stronger man than I would’ve reacted differently. A fearless bloke would’ve seized the opportunity to finally open up to her. He’d tell her that since meeting her, he’d tried seeing other women, but it didn’t work. He was so emotionally caught up in her that his body didn’t even respond to other women—even ones who he found attractive and in the past enjoyed messing around with. That brave man would declare what he was feeling for her, consequences be damned.

  Sadly, I wasn’t that man. “No one special,” I muttered.

  “So they’re not special? But who are they?”

  Knowing she wasn’t going to give up, I glanced at her and then looked away. “Recently, I saw Lucinda Masters. She’s an old friend and an art history professor at University College.” Though it was the truth, even that information seemed less than genuine. I couldn’t take the lie, so I stood up and offered my hand. “Onward. It’s a beautiful day. Where shall we go next?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, rising from the bench. “Golden Gate Park?”

  “Fantastic.” I thought back to the times I’d driven by the park. “It’s rather large. We could rent bikes.”

  “Oh, that sounds great. Let’s do that.” She looked down at her jeans. “Only if we’re biking, I’d like to change into shorts. It’s getting pretty warm. Don’t they have a winter out here?”

  “Not too much of one.” I smiled. “Let’s go back to my hotel room, and we can both change.”

  “Your hotel room?” she said, raising a brow.

  “Yes, my hotel room. Much better than a dodgy public bathroom or diving into the bathroom of a café. And I’d like to change myself.”

  “Okay…” She smiled. “It’s just the phrase ‘let’s go back to my hotel room’ seems a little loaded.”

  Without another word, I gently placed both of my hands on her cheeks and leaned down to look her in the eye. “You’ve put a spell on me, and it seems you understand there’s nothing more I’d like than to get you alone in a hotel room. And just to make it abundantly clear, there are things I’d like to do to you that I’m sure would have you moaning beneath me. Having you say my name as I pleasure you would be ecstasy enough for me. All of that said, I think I can restrain myself long enough for you to change your clothes in peace so we can go for a bloody bike ride. Okay?”

  Her mouth dropped yet again. It was her expression of speechlessness. After a moment, she squeaked, “Okay.”

  I withdrew my hands from her face and smiled. “Good. I’m glad we have that cleared up.”

  “Yeah, me too,” she said warily.

  When we arrived at my hotel room, I remembered that I hadn’t tidied the place up before I left. “Excuse the mess, please,” I said as I let her in.

  She walked inside the large room, looked around, and announced, “I don’t know what you mean. It looks fine to me.”

  I noticed yesterday’s suit slumped over the desk chair and my undershirt crumpled on the floor by my suitcase. At least I didn’t have any dirty socks or boxers lying around. “Not too bad, I suppose.”

  I opened the door to the bathroom. “Here you go. Take your time.”

  “Thanks,” she said.

  As I moved out of the way, she walked in and shut the door. Not wanting to be caught with my trousers down, especially after telling her she’d have peace and quiet, I quickly tore through my suitcase for a pair of shorts. In only a few minutes, I sat on one of the chairs in the sitting area by the window, wearing shorts and trainers and thumbing through that day’s Wall Street Journal.

  When she came out of the bathroom, she smiled and placed her backpack on the credenza. I glanced only long enough to see she was wearing cut-offs that were just long enough to still be respectable. I began to have farm girl fantasies when I saw her freckled thighs so I went back to my paper and heard her say, “You read the Journal?”

  “I read whatever newspaper is around.” I peered back up from the paper. “The Journal is fine, though the editorial section is a bit rightwing for me.”

  “Me too.” She rolled her eyes. “As you can imagine, Trey thinks it’s gospel.”

  “I’d think he is a rather conservative Republican.”

  “We don’t talk politics that much because it makes me upset.”

  “Probably best to leave it alone then.” I knew I wouldn’t want to discuss politics with old Trey. I grabbed a bottle of water by the bed. “Let’s raid the mini-bar, shall we?”

  After loading up on snacks and drinks from the bar, we went downstairs where the doorman hailed us a taxi. The taxi driver drove like a mad man through the streets of San Francisco, which was frightening even to me because of the steep hills. Poor Allison looked terrified the whole time. The driver zoomed down one particularly giant hill at such a speed that the taxi actually bounced as we hit the bottom of the hill. “Dear God, we caught air on that one,” I said, as the driver drove on, paying no heed.

  Because my head hit the ceiling of the taxi’s roof, it took me a minute to notice where Allison had placed her hand. She was gripping my thigh.

  “Ahem,” I said, pretending to clear my throat. I nodded to her hand, which she recognized as her own and then withdrew, obviously embarrassed.

  “It’s okay, love. You needed to hold on,” I said with a chuckle. And then for only a second, I poked her ivory thigh. “You have freckles.”

  “I do.” She smiled, and after looking down, she poked my thigh in return. “It looks like you do, too.”

  “I do. Everywhere.” I winked just in case she didn’t get it.

  “Well now…” She placed her hand to her chest and looked away.

  “Do you have freckles…everywhere?”

  Her head snapped back toward me, her eyes on red alert. “Excuse me?”

  “Based on what I’ve seen, I’m guessing you also have freckles everywhere.”

  “I’m neither confirming nor denying that.”

  “Oh, get off your high horse. You can just tell me.”

  She pouted her lips in defeat. “Yes. I have them everywhere.”

  “Thank you. You’ve given me enough material for a month of fantasies.”

  “Happy to have helped,” she grumbled, though she was smiling.

  “I’d like it better if you leant a hand, but this will do for now.”

  “For now?” She eyed me.

  “For now.”

  After the death defying cab ride, we ended up in Haight-Ashbury, which was still true to its 1960s Summer of Love hippy roots in the number of bong shops along Haight Street. Like most great neighborhoods of the world, though, that character was now diminished by yuppie cafes and bars. Before we went to get the bikes, we stopped at a deli to pick up some sandwiches for a picnic. I nabbed a bottle of wine and corkscrew as well. Then we hit the bike hire place, and soon we were both outfitted with bikes and helmets for our trip.

  “Let’s go to the beach,” she said excitedly as she put on her helmet.

  “The beach? Here?”

  “Yes, silly. The park ends near the beach, right? I’ve only been in the Pacific in Hawaii.”

  “This beach is not like Hawaii,” I warned, snapping the chinstrap of my helmet together. “It’s as cold as a witch’s teat.”

  “Having never touched a witch’s breast, I don’t know how cold that is.” She smirked.

  “I’ve known a few witches.” I smirked right bac
k. “And it’s really fucking cold. I’d rather go swimming in the bloody North Sea than swim off the coast of California.”

  “Okay. The North Sea sounds cold to me.”

  “It’s fucking frigid.”

  “Okay. So we won’t go into the ocean. Can we go see it?”

  “Absolutely, love.”

  We didn’t bike long before we were deep in Golden Gate Park. Stopping at a little lake, we found a decent picnic spot. The place seemed perfect, but I touched the ground, which was still wet from the morning’s fog. I wiped my hands on my shorts. “Pity. It’s wet.”

  “That’s okay,” Allison said, as she took off her backpack. “I have something.”

  As she pulled out a couple of cellophane wrapped blankets, I laughed. “Are those airline blankets?”

  “Yup.”

  “You stole airline blankets?”

  “I don’t know if I’ve actually stolen them just yet. I saw them, and I wasn’t sure what we would be doing today. It seemed like a handy thing to have, and if we didn’t use them, I’d just leave them on the plane tonight.”

  “Brilliant thinking.” I helped her spread the blankets on the ground. “I do like that you thought of blankets when you thought about our day together.”

  “Well, you seem to take me to the oddest places. I never know what we’re going to end up doing.”

  “And what does Trey think of our little adventures?”

  “Um.” She wrinkled her nose. “He thinks they’re strange, but harmless.”

  What a fool he is. “What do you think of them?”

  She grinned. “I think they’re a blast. Isn’t that obvious?”

  “How would I be doing if I kept taking you to lunch and dinner?”

  “I don’t know…” She sat down on a blanket. “Let’s eat. I’m hungry.”

  After lunch, we began biking the three miles to the ocean. We stopped along the way to explore everything from the Japanese Tea House to the fly-casting pools and the poor bison that looked like they’d much rather be somewhere on the American plains. As we started to near the ocean, I spotted an archery field. “What do you think of that?” I said, pointing to the few archers with their bows and arrows.