The Virgin Dating Game

by Sky Corgan

  Amy Underwood

  Interior Designer

  Environ Designs

  For the next few hours, I check my email obsessively, waiting for a response from him. Nothing comes through though. On my last break, I go to Derrick's desk to tell him about our upcoming appointment. He seems pleased with my resolve to stick to the plan. A little less pleased that Lucian hasn't bothered to contact him at all.

  “We'll get through this,” he tells me with a sigh, as if me going over to Lucian's place without jumping on his dick will be some monumental feat. I want to roll my eyes, but I don't, knowing that he just has my best interests at heart.

  The hours tick down towards the end of the day, and I'm already thinking about what I'm going to wear. Definitely nothing as sexy as last time. Derrick will know if I'm dressing to please Lucian. He has an eye for things like that. Then again, perhaps wearing something a little revealing wouldn't be the worst idea. I do want to keep Lucian interested, don't I?

  No, I don't. That's a terrible idea. What's wrong with me?

  I sigh, realizing it's just going to be another boring blouse and pencil skirt. To keep things simple, I should probably wear what I wore to work today. That way, I only have to freshen up my hair and makeup when I get home.

  I look down at my outfit and frown. I'm wearing beige slacks with a white button-down shirt and an orange cardigan. Not sexy at all. And hard for him to take off. At least, my hair is down. He'll like that. Ugh, why does it matter? You ruined your chance with him anyway.

  My work is done for now, so I sit and play solitaire on my computer. Every passing thought is of what I'm going to say and do when I see Lucian again.

  “Earth to Amy.” Tyra waves a manicured hand in front of my face, causing me to look up.

  “Oh.” I hadn't noticed her standing there.

  “You must be really engulfed in the Reddick project. I like to see my employees working hard.” She points at me and beams.

  I close the solitaire program as quickly as I can, thanking God that she didn't approach me from behind. Otherwise, she might not be so happy.

  “Working hard,” I let out a nervous laugh.

  She leans across my desk, which means she wants to say something that she doesn't want anyone else to hear. Of course, that only draws Derrick's attention away from what he was doing. He glances at us every few seconds, trying to make it seem like he's working, when he's obviously really straining to hear what she's about to tell me.

  “Listen.” She licks her lips, instantly going into serious mode. “Doctor Reddick sent me an email a little while ago. It looks like plans have changed a bit.”

  My heart sinks to my feet, and I feel a hard knot forming in my throat. He reneged on the contract. Perhaps he realized that the sex wasn't good enough for him to owe me the favor of signing with the company. Maybe one of our competitors got to him. All I know is that whatever she says next won't be good.

  “Yeah?” I try not to seem nervous. Already, perspiration is starting to gather on my forehead though, and my palms are getting clammy. For the first time, I realize that I really don't want to lose the contract. I don't want to miss the chance to get to see Lucian again. It doesn't make sense to me, but it's what I want. What I truly want.

  “He has decided that he wants to take a more hands-on approach to the process. I'm honestly not sure why, but I'd like us to accommodate him the best that we can. It's important that we keep him happy, even if it's kind of a pain in the ass.” She gives me a look that suggests the idea displeases her. “Having said that, he wants to be involved in everything. The shopping, the selecting, the placing. Basically, everything except the moving crew.”

  “That's kind of good, isn't it?” My body begins to relax as I realize the worst of my fears didn't come to fruition. “It means he's really interested in what we're doing.”

  “It is good, but...” she hesitates.

  “But?” My eyes widen as I bite back annoyance from her stalling. There's a bomb about to drop, and I wish she'd just let it hit me already. Judging by the way that she's acting, Lucian probably wants me off of his project. The thought hurts, but I'm at least glad that we didn't lose him as a client.

  “But he wants you by his side through the whole thing.”

  My mouth falls open for a split second, but I quickly recover. “No worries, Mrs. Rollins, Derrick and I already told Lucian that we'll be at his house at seven o'clock tonight to go over all the furniture selections I've made so far.” I can't help but smile.

  She leans in a bit closer, casting a glance at Derrick, who quickly shifts his eyes away and continues working. Then she whispers, “He doesn't want Derrick involved. Just you. Only you. He specifically requested it.”

  The shock I was trying to conceal earlier comes out in full force. This is completely unexpected. And while inside I'm jumping for joy, I know it's bad. Bad for me. Bad for Derrick.

  “I told Derrick we'd go together.” It's the only thing I can think of to say.

  “Don't worry about that.” She straightens herself. “I still want him on the project. He's just going to be a background man, doing the blueprint, working on furniture placement choices, and scheduling the moving guys. You'll be Doctor Reddick's direct contact, from now on.”

  Tyra gives me a sympathetic look. “I know this is making you go above and beyond. I'm not exactly sure how much he's going to want you around, and I know it's probably going to be incredibly stressful. Do a good job though, and I promise this will pay off for you.”

  “Sure. Thanks.” It's not the most grateful response, but it's all I can come up with in light of how much this is going to tick Derrick off. Everything rests on my shoulders now. It's not just about furniture and color choices anymore, it's about how Lucian and I interact together, and whether or not I can keep things professional.

  Tyra walks over to Derrick's desk, and I feel the knot in my throat double. Thank God, there's only five minutes before the end of my shift. Hopefully, she can keep him occupied for that long. I'd really like to get out of here without having to deal with his disdainful looks and another lecture. Despite what he thinks, I'm a big girl, and I do know what's at stake.

  I count down the seconds until I can leave my desk, glancing between the clock and Tyra and Derrick. He's obviously not pleased by the news, but at least he's not pitching a fit. Every time he looks in my direction, I lower my gaze, the same way he did when Tyra and I were talking. It's kind of funny, when I think about it, pretending like we're not watching and listening, when we both know we really were. What's the point of hiding it when it's so obvious? That's just human nature, I suppose.

  By the grace of God, Tyra lingers at Derrick's desk until the shift is over. I shove my camera into my purse and hobble toward the door like the building is on fire. There's no sign of Derrick as I pull out of the parking lot, and I sigh in relief. It will be better to talk to him about this tomorrow, after he's cooled off.

  By the time I get home though, he's already sent me a text. It simply says, “Don't sleep with him.”

  I quickly reply, “I won't.”

  There's not a whole lot of time between the end of my shift and my appointment with Lucian, but I still decide to change. The womanly part of me has won over—the part that wants to be easily accessible. This time though, I don't go for slutty. I pair a beige pencil skirt with a pink and white floral blouse, a light pink sweater, and beige flats with beading on them. It looks a lot more wholesome than what I wore yesterday. Perhaps it will clue Lucian in to the fact that I'm there strictly for business.

  CHAPTER NINE

  I can feel my pulse pounding in my skull as I make my way to Lucian's front door. Without even seeing him, my hormones are on overdrive. All I can think about is what we did last night, the feeling of having him inside of me. My nerves have never been this on edge from meeting with a client before. He's not just a client to me though. He's something else. And I don't know what that something else is.

 
When he opens the door, all the air leaves my lungs in a woosh. My clit pulses with desire as I soak him in, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants and expensive sneakers with a towel draped over his shoulders. It looks like he just finished running or working out. His muscles are popping, and the fine sheen covering his body makes me focus on how cut he actually is. It also makes the V pointing towards his dick look that much more delicious. I want to run my tongue down it, to taste his skin. It's a sick thought, one I normally wouldn't have. He's just too damn irresistible though.

  “Are you going to stare at me all night, or would you like to come in?” He steps aside, giving me a panty melting grin.

  It's starting to feel like my jaw is broken. The shock value of everything that's happened lately isn't lost on me, and I can't believe how clearly arrogant he is. I didn't think I was being that obvious, but apparently I was.

  “Thanks,” I mumble as I step past him and am instantly assaulted by the smell of something savory coming from the kitchen.

  He closes the door behind us. “I'm running a bit behind, trying to get everything done at once, but I managed to whip us up some dinner.”

  “Dinner,” the word sounds foreign. “Doctor Reddick,” I turn back to him, “I'm here on business. You wanted to go over some of the furniture selections I made for you.”

  He places his hand on the small of my back to urge me towards the dining room. The gentle touch feels electric as my body processes it irrationally. He's touching you. You like this, yes. You want more of it.

  “Nothing good comes from working on an empty stomach, and I'm very hungry.” He ignores me, leading me to the table and pulling a chair out for me to sit.

  Not knowing what else to do, I take my seat and wait for him to serve me. He picks up the plate in front of me, along with the one at the head of the table, and disappears into the kitchen. I'm left staring down at the worn wooden tabletop, thinking of the dining room table I picked to replace it, wondering if it's too plain. This one looks like it was expensive in its day, with intricate carving along the sides and legs. The one I selected is far more modern, sleek and angular. The only artistic aspect is cracked glass insets. I hope he likes it. Maybe he hates it. There's really no way of knowing until I ask.

  He returns shortly with a bowl of salad in one hand and one plate in the other while the second plate is balanced on his forearm as if he's done it a hundred times before.

  “Were you a waiter in a past life?” I ask as he sets the salad down before grabbing the plate on his forearm and placing it in front of me.

  “I was a waiter in this life, a long time ago.” He rounds the table to sit diagonally from me.

  The meal laid before me looks super healthy. Baked salmon with some kind of green sauce on it and spears of asparagus next to it with cherry tomatoes and garlic. No carbohydrates.

  “Damn, I forgot plates for the salad.” He starts to get up.

  “Don't worry about it. I can make room for it on this plate.”

  Lucian smiles at me politely before sitting back down. He nudges the asparagus aside on his plate and grabs the tongs to portion out some salad onto the empty space. Then he offers the salad bowl to me. I take it gingerly, mirroring what he did, not wanting to look like an idiot.

  “You didn't have to cook for me,” I say shyly.

  “I didn't. I cooked for me. You just happened to be coming over around dinner time, and I didn't want to eat in front of you.”

  His blunt reply puts things into perspective, and I have to fight to keep a frown from taking over my face. This isn't a sweet date. He didn't cook for me because he wanted us to share this meal together. He only did it because it would have been rude not to.

  I take a bite of the fish, even though my appetite has receded. It's surprisingly good, flaky and buttery-tasting. Then again, I'm not sure why I'm so surprised. His breakfast was amazing, and he does have a gargantuan kitchen, which suggests that he enjoys cooking.

  “This is a big house for just you,” I try to make conversation.

  “It is,” he replies absentmindedly.

  “To be honest, when I came for the initial consultation, I was sure that you'd be married and have kids.”

  His gaze is piercing, as if I just struck a nerve. He grunts, and we fall into silence for several seconds while I try to decode the meaning of his reaction. Either he's offended that I suggested he's married, or he really is married, and he just doesn't want to talk about it. Now, I desperately want to know which one it is, but I know better than to press the subject. I need to tread carefully—to keep him happy so that he'll want to continue working with me.

  “Derrick wanted to come, but my boss said that you specifically requested to work with me.”

  “I did.”

  I'm starting to get the feeling that I should just keep my mouth shut and eat, but I can't. The silence will drive me nuts. “So, tell me more about this house. It's absolutely gorgeous.” My eyes float up to the chandelier hanging overhead.

  “I think I already told you it was my parents' house.”

  “You did.”

  “That's all there is to know.” His expression is completely disinterested.

  “Did you always live here? I mean, did they give it to you after you graduated from college?”

  “I'm not sure if I like the dining room table you picked out. I'd like some more options. Nicer chairs. I'm not fond of the cracked glass insets either. They look...well, broken.”

  “Do you at least like the color?” I ask apprehensively. The mood seems to have shifted. Maybe this will be a professional meeting after all.

  He nods. “The black looks fine. It's not what I expected you to choose, but I'm okay with it.

  “I assume there's certain furniture stores your company shops at. I'd like to look at the furniture with you, help pick it out, physically go to the stores and make sure it's to my liking before we place the order.”

  “Certainly.” I scratch my ear. “My boss told me you wanted to be more involved. What made you change your mind?”

  He stops eating to stare at me for a moment, his jaw set. The contemplation on his face sends a shiver racing down my spine. “Something piqued my interest.”

  He continues eating, and I suddenly feel full. Curiosity and emotion swirl in my stomach from his cryptic words. There was a strange sensuality behind them, yet he didn't sound sensual at all. Perhaps I'm just reading him wrong. Maybe I'm hoping for too much. I want to ask what he meant, but I'm afraid of the answer—afraid that he's not really interested in me. Though that's what I should want, the very thought hurts.

  “The food is delicious,” I tell him as I rearrange things on my plate. I'm blushing, and I don't even know why.

  “Cooking has always been a passion of mine. I would have been a chef, but it doesn't pay nearly as well as being a surgeon.” His eyes widen for effect.

  “I can imagine.” I smirk. “Unless you're Gordon Ramsey, or someone like that.”

  “Men like Gordon Ramsey are few and far between.” His lips crack into a smile, and I feel an overwhelming sense of joy that I amused him.

  “So are brilliant plastic surgeons.”

  I expect him to respond, but he doesn't. He simply continues smiling between bites until the moment passes, and we fall into silence. For some reason, it doesn't bother me as much now. My appetite, though still small, returns enough to help me finish off the meal.

  When we're done eating, he takes our plates back to the kitchen, and I pull out my tablet and boot it up to start going over my furniture selections with him. He returns shortly, pulling his chair around to sit beside me. The closeness makes my heart flutter, even though it's completely nonsexual. Just knowing he's half-naked and near me does things to me—things my body isn't used to experiencing from being in close proximity to a man. What I'm feeling is more than physical attraction though. There are too many amazing things about him. His confidence, his tenacity, his kindness, his way with words. Everything about
him draws me closer, like a moth to a flame. And even though I know I shouldn't want to get closer, even though I know I'll get burned, some subconscious part of me doesn't care.

  We spend the next thirty minutes interacting professionally, which feels completely foreign to me. It turns out that Lucian likes most of the stuff I picked out, but he still wants more options. He doesn't like not being able to touch the furniture and see it in person before committing to a purchase. I can understand that in regard to sofas and beds. In fact, it's a rather common concern. It's just interesting that he wants his hands in all things.

  “Having you be physically present to approve every piece of furniture is going to make this process take a lot longer,” I tell him gently.

  “It's my money.” His lips pull into a strained grin, and I cower a little.

  “I'm just letting you know.”

  “I'm well aware.” Now, I'm just annoying him. It's written all over his face.

  “Well,” I take a deep breath, “I think that's about it. If you can send me your schedule and let me know when it will be convenient for you to go look at furniture, that would be great. I'll send you a few more selections for each room that I've got so far. You can let me know what you like, and we'll go from there.”

  “Sounds good. I did notice, however, that you haven't picked out anything for my bedroom yet.” He watches me shut down my tablet and shove it into my purse.

  “I'm waiting for Derrick to put together the digital blueprint of your bedroom.”

  “Why is that necessary?”

  The question catches me off guard, and I hesitate a little. “I suppose it's not.”

  “Good, because I'd really like to work on that room first.” He gives me a serious look, as if doing anything other than what he wants is not optional.

  “Alright,” I draw out the word before quickly recovering and reaching into my purse for my camera. “I came prepared.” I hold up the camera like it will magically save the day. “Let's go snap some pictures of your bedroom, and I can get working on it first thing in the morning.”