by T Gephart
So I could ponder his assertions on my mental cognizance and meekly reenter, apologizing for the interruption. Or I could walk in, shoulders back, redirect his attention to something more interesting and hope getting naked was still an option. I chose option two.
“Hi.” Shoulders back, tits out and smile plastered on my face as I entered.
Eric looked up, his delicious body having moved to my sofa.
“Now, where were we?” I slithered as seductively as I could to where he was sitting. Judging from the look on his face it wasn’t as seductive as I’d assumed.
“White rabbit, huh?” His head tipped in the direction of the garment bag.
Oh God. I hoped he didn’t hear.
“I was curious, so I looked inside. It’s pretty . . . big and fluffy.” He laughed.
“What can I say, I’m a glutton for punishment and apparently I agreed in a moment of weakness.”
“Been there, done that.” He smiled. “Was that your agent?”
“Yesssssss.” I nodded slowly, knowing full well I was digging a bigger hole.
Still it did present itself with a rather unique solution. Legitimizing my so-called acting career. And let’s face it, after we slept together he would probably never see me again, so what did it matter that I perpetuate the tiny, almost microscopic little white lie.
“Well, my agent.” The lie passed easily from my lips. “She and I differ on what we think are good career choices.” I took a seat beside him, trying to keep my eyes from venturing down to his crotch. “She means well.”
“So she got you a gig at kid’s birthday party, there’s worse jobs, trust me.” His arm eased on the back of the sofa, the space now an open invitation, I was sure. “When I started out I was a burrito outside a Mexican restaurant. It didn’t last forever and it helped pay the bills.”
“Mmmm,” I agreed, waiting for my pants to ignite as I slipped into the gap his outstretched arm afforded me. “Anyway, I’m sure you don’t want to talk shop, right?”
“You’re right. Sorry.” His hand slipped onto my shoulder, bringing me in closer.
“No apology necessary.” I swatted his chest playfully. Hey, any opportunity I could get to touch him, I was going to take it. “Unless you obnoxiously beep your horn in drive thru lines, because we’ve already established I don’t condone that.”
“You are an enigma, New York.” He looked down at me and chuckled. “I have no idea who you are and yet, I want to know you.”
That was probably the most romantic thing any man had ever said to me. I wasn’t sure if that was tragic or amazing, but part of me felt sad. Because I knew he didn’t mean it to be.
“I can think of one way we could get to know each other better.”
Sure, it was probably a little forward, but it was a surefire way to get to know each other. We could play naked twenty questions. Ask a question, take off an item of clothing. It was a fun game, and once we were done with that, I could think of other things to play.
“As much as I hate to say it,” he sighed taking a deep breath. “I think I should probably go.”
No. No. My dreams of dirty, crazy sex with Eric Larsson were dissolving before my eyes. He was right here, in my apartment. We’d kissed, and not the kind that was in any way friendly. No, they’d been prelude-to-sex kisses, foreplay kisses. How could we go from rubbing against each other like animals to hey, I should go.
“Oh, okay.” I was desperately trying to hide my disappointment. “Sure, you probably have stuff to do.” Did I just get rejected for casual sex? A wave of embarrassment washed over me. I had practically thrown myself at him.
“Hey, look at me.” He tilted my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes. They were too blue, too intense for me to gaze at too long. “Leaving is hard for me, and when I say hard, I mean hard.” His head tipped toward his lap. “But when we do more than kiss, I want to take my time with you. And right now, I haven’t got that.”
Wow.
I wanted to tell him we didn’t need time. That slow passionate lovemaking was highly overrated, and what we needed was fast, dirty sex. I was willing to take what I could get, but now that he seemed to come to his senses, I wasn’t going to beg. Well, not any more than I had already. I still had my pride.
“I’ll walk you out.” My feet hit the floor as I lifted my body off the couch. “Hope you enjoy the rest of your stay.” I’d relegated myself to a tourism ambassador. Bon voyage, come again soon. Don’t eat the mints right before bed—they’ll keep you awake.
He stood up to join me, his hands lowering to my waist and pulling me in close. “I know a line when I hear one, Tia. Don’t do that with me.”
And before I could answer—and probably give him another line—he kissed me. Not as urgent as the first time, but not what I would call a goodbye kiss either. His lips and his mouth didn’t ask permission, not that I would have denied them.
No man had ever kissed like he did, so intense. It was hard to tell where my lips stopped and his began.
“I’ll see you soon.” He pulled his lips from mine, his hands slowly lifting from me. “And I will be enjoying the rest of my stay.”
And with not much more than a smirk, he turned and walked out the door. There was no discussion of whether or not I had plans. No confirmation of time or place, or how he intended to see me. Nope, just left me standing in my living room with a promise he’d be back soon. And when the hell was soon anyway? An hour? Tonight? Tomorrow? Lots of freaking leeway on soon. And we’d already established I didn’t do well with leeway.
Dear Lord in heaven and all the saints.
I may have bitten off more than I could chew.
IT TURNS OUT SOON WASN’T soon enough.
After he’d left I had tried to get on with my day—writing my latest column and being a productive member of society—the whole thing was making me antsy. Very fucking antsy.
Judith had been less than pleased when I confessed my sins. I’d stalled as long as I could but knew if I didn’t call as promised she was going to stage an intervention with Mom and Dad. Damn her need to play by the rules; Piper was a hell of a lot more fun.
Big sis couldn’t believe I was pretending to be an actress, which was ironic seeing as actresses pretended all the time anyway. Besides, I told her, it wasn’t like I was defrauding the IRS. No one cared what my job description was. No one was getting hurt. Just a tiny, almost irrelevant white lie. No big deal at all.
The agent thing was a bone of contention. She huffed and puffed for a solid ten minutes citing she didn’t want to be involved in my web of deceit. And that agents were usually shady assholes who drove expensive cars, and what was I trying to say about her. I thought it wise not to point out she drove an expensive car but reassured her she wasn’t a shady asshole.
And so that day ended with no more appearances from Eric.
I had hoped he’d repel down the side of my building Spiderman style and make me his Mary Jane—the suit was totally optional. But alas no superheroes or movie stars knocked at my window. Or my door for that matter.
Waiting around had never been my forte. I peeked at Christmas presents and read movie spoilers; my constant need to know was at odds with patience as a concept.
I didn’t sleep.
Tossed and turned, unable to power down. Not to mention how turned on I’d been, so sexually frustrated that even the two orgasms I’d given myself weren’t enough to knock me out. My body was tired, but the more I tried to close my eyes, the more I felt resistance. My mind too wired to sleep and too scattered to work.
So, as another day dawned I kept busy. Worked on my column a little, bought another lipstick—this time pink, just to be different—and spent an hour folding paper napkins into origami swans. The instructions had boasted a feeling of peace and tranquility but those tiny folds were really just pissing me off.
I wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse that I had my niece’s birthday party. I’d suited up in the huge white fluffy bun
ny outfit in order to fulfill my promise made under duress. Bridget of course was Alice, Judith was the Queen of Hearts, my two-year-old nephew Louis was the Cheshire cat and GQ Will was the Mad Hatter. I was told they looked amazing which I would have seen for myself if I hadn’t had the stupid rabbit head on the entire time. Apparently it was too traumatizing for the twenty or so children running around if I took it off, Judith had said. I was already plotting my plans for revenge. At least I didn’t get peed on, small victory.
It was late afternoon when I reached my bottom. A 9–1-1 call later to Lila and we were sitting in my apartment having one of our famed strategy meetings. I was still in my bunny costume—minus the head because there were no kids around to traumatize—when she suggested tequila and eating pizza. Probably because it was a Saturday night, and if I was going to be sitting home wearing a rabbit costume with my best friend, it was going to require a few drinks. And clearly we needed to be well-fed and lubricated to make informed decisions about what I should do next. Common sense was not the theme of the day.
“You have his number, just call him.” Lila poured another round; we’d lost count of how many we’d consumed. Not that it affected her, no, it was only I who was struggling to keep upright. I blamed the weight of the suit.
“No. I’m not calling.” I pouted like a five-year-old, ironic given my current attire. “Too obvious. He wants me to call him, clearly. So I won’t.”
Which was ridiculous because I wanted to call him too, so my act of defiance was only punishing myself. I blamed the tequila for my twisted logic.
“So here’s a thought. Maybe something has happened to prevent him from calling. An emergency or something.”
“What? Come on, he’s an actor, not Spiderman.” Clearly we’d established that when he didn’t climb into my window last night. “What em-ergen-cy?” I slurred. “And where the hell is he that there’s no cell service? Pleeeeeeease, we don’t live in the Congo. And even there I’m positive some Telco has a tower.”
I probably should have stopped drinking. Reevaluated the situation sober and with a clear head in grown up clothes. It had only been twenty-four hours and you couldn’t even report a missing person in that time. All good thoughts a regular person would have, which I wasn’t most of the time.
Besides, I was sexually frustrated. He’d wound me up with an appetizer of kisses of mass destruction only to have the main course so cruelly taken away. It was orgasm deprivation, a punishment I was positive was against the Geneva Convention. I’d be contacting The Hague tomorrow. This kind of blatant use of sexual torture wouldn’t be tolerated.
It was approximately nine p.m. when the knock at the door happened. I had slowed my drinking so that I could adequately prepare my opening statement. Lila hadn’t. So it was debatable as to which of us was the most sober and the best to deal with whoever was at the door. Maybe she’d ordered another pizza or maybe it was the orgasm thief, wanting access to my lips again. At least this time I knew his game.
“Who goes there?” I shouted at the door. “State your purpose.” I laughed, silently hoping it was just the pizza man.
Lila giggled as my bunny paw tried twisting the five million locks—I mean three—on my door. Her assistance reserved to being my cheer squad from the couch. We should definitely stop drinking I decided as I pulled open the door.
“Ryan!” I flung myself at him, my bunny belly hindering me from getting too close. “Oh Lila, it’s Ryan.” I pulled him into the apartment, the man’s eyes as wide as saucers.
“New York?” His eyes traveled up the length of my furry, costumed body looking slightly different from when he’d seen me last. “Is that you?”
“Yes, yes it’s me.” I pulled his arm directing him to the couch. “Who else would it be?”
“Well, it’s kind of hard to tell in the bear suit.” He grinned. “New York, are you into some weird kinky shit you haven’t told me about?”
“Nooooooooo, ewwwww.” I waved my bunny paws at him. “And I’m a rabbit, not a bear. I’m not wearing my head that’s why you’re confused.”
“I’m not even sure where to go with that,” he laughed. “But whatever.”
Oh, where the hell were my manners!
“This is my friend, Lila.” I all but shoved him onto the couch beside her. “You two should meet.”
When I first met Ryan I had forgotten to mention Lila as she’d requested. That had been bad friend-ing on my part. But now that the opportunity had presented itself I would not be making that mistake again. Because I was a good friend, damn it.
“O-kay.” He looked between me and Lila; the grin spreading across his face. “Hi, Lila, no rabbit suit for you?”
“No, I’m the sensible one.” She tried her best to not laugh. “Pleased to meet you, Ryan.” She successfully shook his hand. Didn’t even look that drunk except from the mild blush on her face. I unfortunately hadn’t faired so well.
“You girls are toasted.” Ryan smirked, his hand raking through his beautiful unRogaine-needing hair. “Larsson is going to be pissed he missed out on this.”
“Oh, I bet he is.” Mention of Eric’s name had me reigniting my fury.
I got close to Ryan, leaning over him intim-a-bunnying him with my paw pointed right at his chest. “You tell Eric that I’m—” what the hell was the name of that convention again? Bermuda? No, that didn’t sound right. “Doing stuff and reporting him for crimes against animal rights . . . I mean civil rights . . . I mean human rights.” Yes, that’s the right one. “I’m going to Häagen-Dazs to tell them about it. He should be worried.”
“Oh, New York. You are too freaking precious right now.” He climbed to his feet, no longer content to sit on my couch. I guess he’d met Lila so the objective had been achieved; I couldn’t keep him there indefinitely. Especially when I couldn’t remember where I’d put my packing tape.
“Does one of you lovely ladies want to tell me where the coffee pot is?” In a flash he had moved from the living room to my kitchen, opening cupboards. It had been way too fast for any human to move. Something wasn’t right here. Maybe Ryan was Spiderman.
“Are you . . . a superhero?” My eyes squinted trying to reassess. “Show me your wrists, I demand it.” If they shot out Spidey silk I would be getting to the bottom of it.
“Well then, looks like we’re too far gone for coffee.” He smiled as he held out his arms. “The hangover is going to really suck in the morning.”
“Shhhh.” I examined his wrist finding nothing suspect. Mortal arms like the rest of us it looked like. He’s just a man.
“Wow, way to kill my ego, Tia.” He chuckled, lowering his arms beside him.
Oh, I must have said that out loud, shit. Last thing I wanted to do was make Ryan feel bad, he wasn’t the enemy. I needed to keep a better handle on my mouth.
“So where is Eric tonight?” Bunny paw waved with reckless abandon. “Visiting the graveyard of lost orgasms?” Oh, that was a good one. I hoped I remembered it in the morning; that was totally going into a column.
“Is that what you’re calling L.A?” Ryan winced, totally missing the reference.
“He’s in L.A., he left the whole fucking state?” I said a little louder than I’d intended, my voice echoing off the walls.
When I’d told him to enjoy his stay it was assumed there was still stay to enjoy. If he was just going to up and leave, what the point was his promise to see me soon? What the hell happened after he left the apartment?
Maybe Judith was right, I had inadvertently hypnotized him and once he was free from my influence he realized what a mistake it was. My mom had always said I wielded more power than I gave myself credit for. I thought she was talking about my column, but maybe she meant other things too. Oh, I’d never repelled a man so far away before. Out of a nightclub sure, but never out of the goddamn state.
“He had a photo shoot. Some bullshit sexy man thing he didn’t want to do and was trying to get out of. His agent got pissed, said it would hur
t the film launch this close to release.” Ryan started to explain. “And because he didn’t want to disappoint anyone or act like a fucking diva, he figured it was easier just to go do the damn shoot. He’s tried to call you, but you weren’t answering, so ’cause I was still in town he asked me to look in on you.”
That was way too much to process with my limited sobriety. If he had tried to call me, why hadn’t I received the call? “I would have answered, but there’s been nothing.”
Nothing.
Not even a message.
Ryan was covering for the orgasm thief.
Traitor.
“Where’s your phone?” He looked at me and laughed, my evil eyes of disapproval probably not as fierce as I intended them to be. “Maybe there was something wrong with it? Flat battery?” he asked, politely not mentioning user error, meaning me. “Trust me, Eric doesn’t say he called if he didn’t.”
“Ummm.” I patted my lack of pockets, searching for my phone. “I don’t have it. No, wait it’s in my purse.” I ran to the kitchen table where I’d tossed my purse, my cell phone still inside it.
Sure enough, after retrieving it I had several missed calls and unread messages. All from Eric Larsson.
“Well, so he’s in L.A. then.” I scanned the messages matter-of-factly pretending I wasn’t relieved it hadn’t been my mystery powers that had repelled him. “Photo shoot.” I nodded to Lila confirming the reason why Eric hadn’t shown up on my doorstep delivering orgasms as promised.
Crisis had been averted it seemed. Well, I guess that was that.
“Awesome,” she cheered. “I’m glad we got that sorted out.” She tried to stand up, slightly unsteady on her feet. “I should probably go home.”
“Did you drive here? How are you getting home?” Ryan asked, a little too interested in her mode of transportation.
Hmmm, I sharpened my rabbit senses.
“Did you see my girl in the rabbit suit?” She waved in my direction. “I knew I was going to be drinking heavily. I can catch a cab home.” Lila slipped on her shoes, gathering her purse as she got ready to leave.
