“Sometimes I feel a lot older than thirty-two.”
“When you’re ready to date I have this cousin who just moved back to the city...”
I shake my head. “Not right now.”
Even though she says, “I understand,” she’s pressing her lips together like there’s more she’s dying say.
I heave a long, exasperated sigh. “Tell me.”
“Lorenzo is good looking, charming, and he has a great job. He’s an engineer. His first marriage didn’t work out because his wife cheated on him. So you have that in common. He doesn’t have kids, so there’s no connection to his ex. But there is one catch.”
“There’s always a catch. Is he much shorter than me? Spent time in jail? Former drug addict?”
She gives me the stink eye. “Nothing like that. He’s a little younger. He’ll be thirty in December. Is that an issue for you?”
I choke a little thinking about Dante, who’s a decade younger.
Lucy furrows her brow and actually looks hurt. “I didn’t think three years was that big of a deal.”
“It’s not,” I assure her.
“I don’t think Lorenzo will be single long, so give it some thought, okay.”
I stop walking and turn to face her. “You weren’t going to invite him for coffee on Sunday and not tell me? Or maybe run into him accidently on purpose at the coffee shop?”
When her face flushes I assume I’ve hit the nail on the head. “I really don’t need you to play matchmaker.”
“I care about you, Mary. And I’m worried about you. I was just trying to help.”
“I know.” I give her a quick hug. “And I appreciate it. Just give me some time, okay?”
“Time and tide wait for no man...or woman,” she reminds me.
“No doubt you’re a medieval scholar. Quoting Chaucer.”
“Hey, at least I didn’t say it in Middle English.”
***
I’ve changed three times and I’m still not satisfied with what I see staring back at me in the mirror. Somehow I think I could change a million times and still not be satisfied.
I’m a thirty-two year old trying to look twenty and failing miserably at it.
Obviously Dante didn’t mind what he saw because he’s coming back for more. And something tells me whatever I put on won’t be on for very long anyway.
I read somewhere that men hit their sexual prime in their early twenties and women in their mid-thirties. Maybe we really are compatible despite the age difference.
I decide to wear something a little fancier, a little black dress that fits tight in all the right places. I pair it with the only heels in my closet that don’t look sensible.
I put on a little more make-up than I usually wear and even poof my hair with a little scrunch spray.
When I glance at myself in the mirror again I actually look like I’m ready for a date.
There’s a knock on my front door at exactly eight.
I bite my lip in an effort to control a gasp when I open the door.
Dante is wearing a tweed suit jacket that looks like it’s from the 1970s and brown corduroy pants. I didn’t know they still made corduroy clothing. Maybe the pants came with the jacket in a time machine.
I wonder if this is his attempt at getting dressed up, but failing miserably at it.
As he stares at me for a few moments he seems to be taking me in. His eyes are gleaming and then a smile sneaks across his face. “You look amazing.”
I don’t want to lie and say, “So do you,” so I just give him a warm smile in return.
At nearly the same moment I notice his right arm is behind his back he swings it around and presents me with a posy of delicate pink roses tied with a white ribbon.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I tell him as I take the small bouquet.
“I wanted to.”
He seems a little more relaxed than he did yesterday. Maybe I am too. It’s difficult to be nervous around someone who has already seen you naked.
“Come in.” I move out of the way so he can enter.
“Wine?” I ask.
He nods.
As I head for the kitchen he follows me. I carefully place the flowers on the counter then pull the wine out of the fridge and grab two glasses.
This time Dante sits on one of the stools at the counter while I pour the Merlot.
“Would you like to sit on the porch?” I ask. “It’s still nice outside.” The evenings have been cooling down a bit, but fall hasn’t really settled in yet.
“Sure.” He hops down from the stool and grabs one of the wine glasses. I grab the other one and we head outside.
When I flip on the exterior light Dante goes through his routine of inspecting everything that is illuminated by the porch light.
“Have a seat,” I urge.
I motion to the small table with two chairs, but he chooses to sit on the loveseat instead. I take the seat next to him and take a sip of wine.
We’re both quiet for a few moments.
“Beautiful night,” I say finally. “It looks like we can see the stars forever.”
We both look up at the glowing night sky.
“Nature is the art of God,” he says.
“Do you quote Dante to all the girls?” I tease.
Unfortunately he doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even crack a smile. “There are no other girls.”
I’m tempted to ask if there ever have been any other girls, but I refrain. I take another sip of my wine instead.
“I want to take you out tomorrow night.”
My chest tightens. “I—um—already have plans. Something I scheduled before we made the arrangement.”
His face becomes a stone mask. He’s definitely not happy. He downs his wine in one gulp. When he rises from the loveseat and walks away my heart starts to pound.
Is he leaving?
I panic. I’m not sure what to do. Chasing him would look desperate, but I am desperate. I need the money.
Before I have a chance to go after him he returns to the loveseat and sits back down. He’s definitely doesn’t show his emotions so it’s hard for me to tell if he’s hurt or angry.
His intense stare pierces into me. “We have an exclusive arrangement.”
The realization slaps me in the face. He thinks I’m going out with another man.
“I would never...I’m not...I’m babysitting for my sister. She asked me to watch her kids before we even met. She and her husband don’t have a lot of money and I don’t charge so...”
His features completely soften. I think I even detect the hint of a smile.
“I want to babysit with you.”
I hear the words come out of his mouth, but I’m having difficulty processing them. “You what?”
“I want to babysit with you.”
“My sister has three girls. They’re four, six and eight.”
He looks at me like it’s a done deal. My chest tightens. What am I supposed to tell my sister?
“Have you ever babysat before?”
He shakes his head.
“Been around kids for an extended period of time?”
“I have a lot of cousins. I like kids.”
“I’ll have to see if it’s okay with my sister.”
He continues to stare at me.
“You want me to ask her now?” My voice cracks. That could be one of the last things I want to do right now.
When he nods I gulp. What am I going to tell my sister?
“I have to get my phone. It’s inside. I left it on the counter.”
He grabs both of our glasses as we rise and head back into the house.
When I grab my phone I hope by some miracle he’ll change his mind. He just looks at me expectantly.
I take in a deep breath and dial my sister’s number.
“Please don’t tell me you changed your mind,” my sister says before I even have a chance to speak. “We have tickets to a game.”
My sister’s husb
and loves baseball. He lives to watch the Cubs play.
“I didn’t change my mind,” I assure her. “I—um—just wanted to know if it would be okay for me to bring someone with me...”
“Like a date?” she asks incredulous.
“Sort of.”
“Spill.”
“He’s here right now.”
“You have a man in your house?”
“I do.”
“Good for you getting back in the saddle. I want you to tell me everything. And I do mean everything.”
“Do you mind if I bring him tomorrow? It’s important to him.”
“Is he important to you?” she asks pointedly.
I’m not sure how to answer that question. Right now his money is very important to me. “Yes.”
“Fine,” she tells me. “Come early and we can all have dinner together before we leave.”
My stomach sinks. I’m just getting to know Dante. Having a conversation with him when we’re alone is awkward enough. I can’t imagine what it will be like sitting through dinner with my sister and her husband.
“I don’t know...”
“I won’t take no for an answer.”
“Let me ask Dante.”
“His name is Dante!” she practically screams. “That’s unbelievable. You’re obsessed with Dante. Not your boyfriend, the medieval one.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I whisper into the phone as nonchalantly as possible.
“You said he’s at your house,” she reminds me. “Are the two of you having sex?”
My eyes grow wide as I glance over at Dante. How much is he catching on to our conversation?
I don’t like that he’s frowning. “Would you like to have dinner at my sister’s?” I ask him.
He nods a little more vigorously than I expect.
“Dante’s in for dinner,” I tell my sister.
“That’s great, but you didn’t answer my question. Are you taking a ride on the jolly trolley?”
“Yes,” I admit.
“I’m looking forward to meeting him even more. Can you be here by five?”
“Five o’clock?” I ask Dante.
He nods.
“Sounds good,” I tell my sister before I end the call.
I can already imagine the look on her face when she sees I’m fucking a twenty-two-year old. I already know my sister is going to ask a million questions and I won’t have any answers.
As soon as I put the phone down Dante holds out a hand. “Let’s go upstairs.”
When I place my hand in his I feel a little uneasy. I’m quickly becoming immersed in a sexual relationship with someone I still barely know.
And he barely knows me.
When I told myself this was only going to be about sex, that he’d have access to my body, but not my mind or heart, I didn’t realize how difficult it would be for me to separate those parts of myself.
“Is everything okay?” he asks as he pulls me out of the kitchen and we make our way towards the stairs.
“Sure, why?” I wonder if my words sound as false to him as they do to me.
“I want to spend time with you,” he tells me. “Inside the bedroom and out.”
In my mind I thought being paid to be a mistress would entail something like bi-weekly booty calls. That’s how Sydney and Mallory made it sound when I overheard their conversation.
But Dante isn’t an old, horny guy. Horny maybe, but definitely not old. And I’m not a twenty-year-old college girl. So our situation really isn’t typical to begin with.
I’m beginning to think that Dante’s idea of an arrangement is more like a girlfriend experience. That’s definitely not something I was prepared for, but is it something I can handle?
Do I have a choice?
Once we’re in my bedroom he slips off his shoes and socks. Then he takes off his ridiculous jacket and places it on a chair in the corner of the room. His white button-down shirt follows. And then his corduroy pants.
He looks a lot better without the crazy clothes on. He’s cute even, in a nerdy, boyish kind of way. For a split second I wonder what he’d look like in a killer suit, or even some tight-fitting jeans and a Polo shirt. Normal clothes from the twenty-first century.
“You’re so gorgeous.” The hunger in his eyes is palpable. “All I thought about, all day long, was being in your bed and being inside of you again.”
He stares at me intently for another long moment. Then he says, “Take off your dress.”
Without taking my eyes from his I slowly unzip my dress, seductively slip it off my shoulders and then allow it to fall to the floor. I don’t own a lot of sexy lingerie, but at least I was smart enough to put on some somewhat sexy black stuff.
When his eyes light up I assume he’s pleased with what he sees. He closes the distance between us and kisses me. This isn’t the tentative kiss I was expecting. This kiss is hard and savage.
I let out a small gasp when he grabs my ass and pulls me close. His throbbing erection presses against me, rock hard and ready for action.
“Let’s get in bed,” he whispers in my ear, his breath tickling my neck.
Once he releases me from his grasp he slides off his boxer briefs and tosses them onto the chair with the rest of his clothing.
His eyes rake over me and he takes one more, long look at me in my black bra and panties. It’s as if he’s trying to capture this moment in his mind’s eye like a photograph.
He slides my bra straps down and as his index finger skates along my collar bone I tingle in response. Then he moves along my shoulder blade and circles my shoulder bone.
His eyes meet mine and there’s a jolt of electricity between us.
“Take off your bra.”
I unhook the back strap and allow it to fall to the floor.
My nipples are already hard when he moves his thumbs over them. The lightest of touches sends a small wave of excitement through me.
When he kisses me again it’s like he wants to thoroughly devour me. He leaves my lips tingling in response.
Then he slides his thumbs down my midsection until they land on my hips. “These need to come off too.”
I swear I almost see him smile when I slide my underwear down and let them fall to the floor.
“Better?” I ask.
“Much.”
He grabs my hand and pulls me into bed with him.
Before I realize what’s happening he’s between my legs looking at me eagerly.
He pushes his tongue into my mouth as he pushes his rock hard cock inside of me. I’m not quite ready for him so there’s a twinge of pain as he thrusts.
“Am I hurting you?” His eyes search mine.
“No,” I lie.
He frowns. “Are you sure?”
I nod, but I can tell he doesn’t believe me. “I just wasn’t expecting you to—um—it was a little sudden.”
Realization seems to cross his face. “Too fast?”
I gulp. “A little.”
Without taking his eyes from mine his moves in and out of me much more slowly and deliberately. “Better?”
“Much.”
As he continues with the long, slow strokes he gages my reaction. I moan with pleasure.
“Now go a little faster,” I instruct.
When he follows my direction and quickens his pace it occurs to me that I never quite seem to escape my role as a teacher, even in the bedroom. I feel like I’m coaching him in the art of pleasing me.
And he’s a fantastic student. He’s a quick learner and puts his newfound knowledge into immediate practice.
I take in a sharp breath as I feel myself teetering on the edge of an orgasm.
“Faster,” I whisper.
He doesn’t hesitate to quicken his pace.
I cry out when I climax. After a few more hard thrusts he comes too.
His eyes are still on me, examining me. He seems to be observing every shift in my facial expression.
“Good?” He outlines my ch
eek with his thumb.
I smile. “Really good.”
I can’t remember the last time I had orgasms two days in a row. My sex life with Doug had diminished substantially the last year or so that we were together. I had attributed it to the fact that we were both teaching extra classes and doing a lot of research to enhance our vitae for our tenure applications. I had no idea that it probably had more to do with the fact that he was literally screwing half of the undergrads in his department.
“Do you need to use the bathroom?” he asks. “Before we go to sleep?”
He hasn’t released me from his grasp yet.
“Yes.”
He places a quick kiss on my nose before he lets me go.
“I could use the guest bathroom if you want to use the master bath,” I suggest as I rise from the bed.
He frowns. “No, I’ll use the guest bath.”
I head toward the bathroom then turn back around. “If you want to leave some stuff here, like a toothbrush or deodorant, you can leave whatever you want in the guest bath.”
He nods, but I can see the hint of a smile cross his face.
I try to be as quick as I can in the bathroom. I don’t want to leave him waiting too long. I get cleaned up and brush my teeth. Run a brush through my tangle of hair.
When I glance at myself in the mirror I try to see what Dante sees. I’m glad he finds me attractive. Discovering that Doug had been cheating on me was a bit of a blow to my ego. And when he left me a widow at thirty-two I wondered if anyone would ever find me attractive again.
Never in my wildest imagination did I ever think that the first person I would be intimate with after my husband would be a decade younger.
Dante is already settled under the covers when I climb back into bed. He immediately pulls me into his arms and holds me tight against him. I feel like a security blanket.
“I love having you in my arms,” he whispers.
The after-sex cuddling is something I’m definitely going to have to get used to. I have a feeling he’s going to make it a habit.
Just as I’m drifting off to sleep I hear a strange sound. Is it someone singing?
A Gregorian chant?
It takes me another moment to realize it’s coming from a cellphone.
“Crap,” Dante releases me from his grasp and flips over to grab his cellphone from the nightstand.
Sapphire Beautiful Page 5
