by Megan Hart
"You were going out. Yes." I pretended to just remember
now. "I guess that's why when I saw you in the Mocha I
noticed you. You looked familiar."
It sounded like a much better story, said that way, and
Eric's grin stretched wider. "Uh-huh. Wow. Smal world,
huh?"
"Infinitely."
I wanted to kiss him. I wanted him to kiss me. Instead, I
bent to finish puling the rest of the clothes from the dryer
and into my basket. He was stil staring when I stood, my
basket in my hands.
"What are you doing after you're done with your laundry?"
"I thought I'd read my book…" I glanced at the clock on
the wal, then back at him. "I have to work tomorrow.
the wal, then back at him. "I have to work tomorrow.
Why?"
"I was going to watch a movie. Monty Python and the
Holy Grail. Have you seen it?"
"No." I drew the word out, slow, not wanting to jump to
conclusions.
"Would you like to?"
I pretended to think about it, though inside I was already
screaming out the YESYESYES of Saly's deli orgasm in
When Harry Met Sally. "Are you asking me to watch it
with you?"
"I am." He spread his hands at his sides. "How about it?"
"Sure. Why not? Just let me put this stuff away and I'l
come over."
"Great!" He flashed straight, white teeth and al I could
think about was how they'd feel denting my flesh. "Half an
hour, then? Forty minutes?"
"Sounds good."
"I'm in one-fourteen," Eric said.
I dropped my basket.
Chapter 18
"Are you al right?" Eric had already gone to one knee to gather my scattered clothes while I did nothing but gape.
The world made one slow revolution as everything
changed.
I recovered wel, or at least wel enough to keep him from
checking my pulse and offering me CPR. I watched his
strong, big hands slide along my clothes and put them back
in the basket, and I didn't move. When he stood to hand
me the basket, I took it.
"Fine." I sounded fine. I even managed a smile. I white-
knuckle-clutched the laundry basket and kept my eyes
pinned on his. "Let me just run this home and I'l meet you
at your place, okay?"
We rode the elevator together, not in silence, though
looking back it's impossible for me to remember what we
talked about. I remember his voice, low and rich, and the
sound of his chuckle when I made some smal joke. I
remember the sound of machinery whirring as we lifted
and the way the cool breeze blew against my face when
and the way the cool breeze blew against my face when
the door opened on his floor. I can recal the gleam in his
eyes when he glanced over his shoulder, and the half wave
he gave me as the door closed. But I can't remember what
we said.
In my apartment I set my basket on the bed and puled
open the door on my nightstand. From inside I took the
folded paper on which I'd written my most erotic memory,
and the bottle of Cum-Ezee I'd retrieved from the trash
before I emptied it. Without the notes and their
commands, I wouldn't have either one of them. I looked
around my bedroom, at the new clothes in the closet, at
the books on the shelf. At the new me I'd become because
of those letters.
None of them meant for me.
Al of them for him.
The sound of my laughter stung my ears and I closed my
mouth tight to keep it from escaping again. I looked at the
jumbled mess of laundry in my basket and thought of Eric
on his knees, picking it up. My heart thumped a little faster
and my throat got a little drier.
Al this time I'd imagined the intended recipient of the
letters to be a woman. Not me but like me, at least. To
discover they were meant for a man…I shook my head,
my hair faling forward from the clip. I closed my eyes and
pressed a fist to my lips. They'd been meant for a man.
Did that mean the writer of the notes was…a woman?
God, that was so fucking hot I couldn't stand it.
My cunt bloomed molten heat and the seam of my jeans
pressed suddenly on my clit as I let myself fal back on the
bed. My nipples tightened, begging for a mouth and hands
on them. I took my hand from my mouth and let it roam
my body, though they did little to ease the sudden fire.
Minutes ticked by as I ran through the lists and pictured
Eric performing the tasks I'd found so arousing. What
memory had taken him so long to write he'd returned it
late? What had he bought at the store that had
embarrassed him? I thought of his basket, his laundry, and
the blue shirt there.
I sat, my hair askew and clinging to my forehead in places.
Sweating, I puled off my shirt and jeans and ran the
shower cold enough to make me hiss as I got in and rinsed
off quickly. New panties, new bra, not so fancy as though
off quickly. New panties, new bra, not so fancy as though
it would look as if I was trying too hard should my clothes
happen to come off. A fresh T-shirt, sleek-fitting, soft and
flattering. My favorite jeans, the ones that gave me a round
ass but kept my gut tucked up tight. The gut I didn't realy
have any longer, I had to admit as I checked out my
reflection. Courtesy of those lists, I'd been working out
more diligently than I ever had.
I swiped a brush through my hair and slid clear gloss over
my lips. A dusting of powder finished me off without
making it look as though I'd tried too hard. I grabbed a
couple of packages of microwave popcorn and a big bowl
from my cupboard, slipped my feet into a pair of flip-flops
and tucked my key into my pocket.
My phone buzzed as I debated taking it with me. Now
Austin caled me? After so long silent? I put the phone on
the table, flipped it the bird and locked my door behind
me.
Eric hadn't changed his clothes, but I spied teltale wetness
in his hair that told me he'd at least washed his face.
Minty-fresh breath gave away the fact he'd brushed his
teeth, too, and I hid a grin as he let me in. I hadn't been the
only one assuming there might be more to this than
watching a movie.
I did brace myself as I stepped inside his apartment, but
on first glance I didn't see anything freaky. He gave me a
quick tour. Living room, kitchen. His was a two-bedroom
unit, and he used one for an office complete with shiny
new iMac that had me salivating with envy. He didn't take
me into his bedroom, but I caught a glimpse through the
open door. His window overlooked the parking garage,
same as mine, but he was closer to it.
I'd been half expecting a St. Andrews Cross in the living
room. I think I was a little disappointed. Eric did have a lot
of leather, but in the form of a modern black-and-chrome
sofa and chairs arranged in front of a flat-screen television
hooked up to a bunch
of high-end equipment.
"You have a Wi. Sweet."
"Ever played?" Typical male, proud to show off his toys,
Eric grinned and headed for the TV.
"Sure. Not for a while, though."
"Want to try a game of tennis? I know it's not the latest
"Want to try a game of tennis? I know it's not the latest
and greatest, but it's stil fun." He held up the controler.
That's how we ended up playing video games instead of
canoodling on the couch under a blanket, hoping our
hands met in the popcorn bowl. Eric had a wicked
backhand, and yet he let me win. We laughed a lot as we
played, sharing the sort of random conversation that lets
you get to know someone without treading into territory
too intimate for a first date.
If that was what this was. I had my doubts. Brushed teeth
aside, Eric didn't seem to have any intentions about putting
any moves on me, if he ever had. It had been a long time
since I read a guy wrong, but it wasn't impossible. When
at last we colapsed together onto his slippery leather
couch, Eric's smile didn't give me any clues one way or the
other.
I was flummoxed, to say the least, my confidence shaken.
I remembered the trip to Sensations, and how the clerk
had set me back. I didn't get a gay vibe from Eric, and in
any case, if he liked boys, why had he invited me over in
the first place? No. Something was most definitely up and
unfortunately for me it didn't seem to be his cock.
I excused myself to use his bathroom. And yes, I looked in
his medicine cabinet. Anyone who says they've never done
it is a liar or forgot to add the "yet" to the end of that sentence. I found shaving gel, ibuprofen, Tom's Natural
Toothpaste and a jumbo box of condoms. In the cabinet
beneath the sink I found toilet paper, extra towels and a
few scant cleaning supplies. Like the rest of his apartment,
Eric's bathroom was apparently kink free.
I shouldn't have been so surprised. After al, my own place
wasn't decorated in early-medieval dungeon, either. And
there had never been anything in any of the notes or lists to
indicate he was into hard-core bondage or pain play,
unless I'd been so focused on getting my own rocks off I
hadn't read between the lines. Who knew what those
notes had meant to him?
I had to find out.
He'd put the movie in the DVD player and was popping
the corn in by the time I came out. "It's not too late, is it?"
He gestured at the clock. "We kind of got carried away
with the game. Sorry."
He shot me a sincere and slightly abashed grin. I wanted to
He shot me a sincere and slightly abashed grin. I wanted to
pet him. I wanted to sit extraclose and whisper naughty
words into his ear to make him blush. I wanted, I realized
only a bit uneasily, to see him on his knees again.
"No. It's fine. Anyway, I'm in the mood for a movie."
"Great! Thanks for bringing the popcorn." Eric hopped
over the back of the couch in a fluid motion and headed
into the kitchen. "What can I get you to drink? Soda?
Beer?"
"Soda's fine." I watched him pul the bag from the micro
wave and empty it into the bowl and grab two cans of
Coke from the fridge.
"Coke okay?"
I'd never been with a man so solicitous. "Sure. Yes."
"A glass? Ice? I could slice up a lemon for you."
I broke down and laughed. "I could just drink it from the
can."
"If that's what you like." Eric smiled after a minute, cans held high. "Saves me washing the glasses."
held high. "Saves me washing the glasses."
He brought the drinks and popcorn but waited until I sat
before he did, too. I thought of Austin, who'd have been
yeling from his place on the couch, feet up, to bring him a
beer. This was a nice change, no doubt about it, even if it
did leave me feeling more than a little off balance.
"Be right back." Eric hopped up and disappeared into the
bathroom.
I took the chance to look around. He had framed photos
on the end table and on the brick-and-board bookshelves
that looked as if he'd made them himself but that probably
came from Ikea. He was in a lot of the pictures, his arm
slung around the shoulders of his companions. He'd done a
lot of traveling it looked like from the backgrounds of his
colection. I spotted the blue oceans of the Caribbean,
Hawai's lush greenery. In one he wore the whites of a
cruise-ship crewmember and was sitting at the captain's
table. Ship's doc, maybe.
It didn't look as if he had a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend.
None of the people in the pictures were standing close
enough or giving him goo-goo eyes. Eric was a puzzle, no
question. But at least I could be fairly sure he was single.
"Ready?" If my perusal of his pictures annoyed him, he
didn't show it.
I sat on the couch again, popcorn bowl balanced on my
knees. "Sure."
There's nothing potentialy embarrassing about Monty
Python and the Holy Grail. Even the tiny reference to
oral sex isn't realy sexy. I'd seen the film half a dozen
times but never in its entirety and never completely sober.
And yet I had a hard time concentrating. Eric stretched out
long legs next to mine. He had a deep, infectiously sexy
laugh I couldn't help echoing even if the movie itself hadn't
been hilarious.
It didn't last long enough. I'd forgotten the abrupt end.
When he leaned forward to use the remote to click off the
TV, a thin stripe of skin bared between his shirt and jeans,
tempting me to run my fingers over it. I resisted…but only
barely.
He caught me looking when he turned. "One of my
favorites. Sometimes after a long day in the E.R., al I can
think about is coming home and watching something
stupid."
stupid."
"I can imagine so. Sometimes after a long day at work I
can't manage anything other than stupid." I grinned in
sympathy. "And I'm not saving lives."
Eric's handsome face went stil for a minute. "It's not the
saving them that's the problem. It's when I can't. Sorry,
that's a bummer."
"No, it's okay. There must be a lot of pressure." I watched him look away from me.
When he turned back it was with another smile, less
convincing than his others. "Yeah. Wel. I did a couple
rotations on terminal wards. Pediatrics, too. That was
worse, believe me. A lot worse. At least most of what I
see is fixable. A few stitches, a cast, give out a script for
meds. I'd rather face a roomful of broken bones and
bloody noses than a terminal ward again."
"I can't even handle being sick myself, much less take care
of anyone else." I shuddered involuntarily.
Eric dug into the popcorn bowl to scoop out a couple
unpopped kernels, which he crunched. "Funny thing.
unpopped kernels, which he crunched. "Funny thing.
When I was a kid, I was sick al the time. At least it f
elt
like I was. Constant colds. Probably alergies, now that I
think about it, but at the time, al we knew was that I
always had a runny nose. I was the kid who always
looked like he'd been squashed in the face with something
nasty."
"Nice to see you outgrew it."
His smile quirked higher on one side, charming me. "Yeah.
So anyway, I got older and decided I wanted to become a
doctor, right? And my mom, you'd think she'd be happy to
have her son the doctor, but al she said to me was, ‘But,
Eric, think of the germs!'"
"It's a good thought." I looked at the bowl of popcorn
we'd shared and tried not to wonder if he'd washed his
hands after work.
"But I haven't been sick in years. Nothing more than a mild
cold or two. I think I immunized myself to everything when
I was a kid, so I can't get anything now. In med school
they caled me Iron Man because no matter what we
faced, stomach bugs, coughs, colds, flu…whatever it was,
they usualy got it and I never did."
"Wow. Lucky you."
He swirled those long fingers through the crumbs again,
bringing them out covered with buttery salt. He licked
them one by one as I watched. If I'd thought he was doing
it on purpose to tempt me I'd have been annoyed, but Eric
didn't seem to have any awareness about how he looked.
Or of how my mind went at once to that dirty place.
"Yeah. Pretty amazing." He held out the bowl. "Want
some more?"
I shook my head. "That's interesting, though. Why you
decided to become a doctor. Was it everything you
thought it would be?"
"It's not like I dreamed it would be. No," Eric said flatly.
I waited for more. It seemed there must be more, but no.
His gaze went to the bowl in his lap. He swirled again
through the popcorn and licked the tips of his fingers. He
put the bowl back on the coffee table and looked up at
me.
"It's an incredible amount of responsibility. It's a lot to
"It's an incredible amount of responsibility. It's a lot to
handle, you know?"
I didn't, realy. Not the way he meant. I thought of my own
job and the lists from Paul, and how there realy wasn't
anything I had to be accountable for there. How I had
nothing in my life I needed to take care of. How I never
had. Even when I was married, what had I ever done but
taken care of myself?
"But Monty Python makes it better?"
Eric laughed and ducked his head again for a moment
