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Just Friends With Benefits

Page 4

by Schorr, Meredith


  “Yeah. I don’t have plans so that would be great. What time were you thinking?”

  Trying not to let my voice give away my excitement, I evenly responded, “I’m honestly not sure what time I’ll be through but I made, I mean I can make a reservation for eight. I’ll certainly be finished by then and we can always get a pre-dinner drink or three if we’re really early. Have you been to Del Friscos?”

  “No, but it’s right near my office and I’ve heard all good things.”

  Moving my hands in a horizontal circular motion, I did the Cabbage Patch dance in my chair. “Cool. I’ll make a reservation for two then and I’ll call you on Wednesday afternoon when I know what time I’ll be there.”

  “Perfect. Looking forward to seeing you, Steph. Twice in one week. That hasn’t happened since college.”

  “I know! Okay, talk to you soon.”

  After I hung up, I played his words in my head over and over again, looking forward to seeing you, Steph.

  Five

  My mouth watered as I sat in my aisle seat and watched everyone around me munch on snacks they were smart enough to either bring from home or buy at the airport. I forgot that passengers on shuttle flights didn’t get any food, not even those tiny bags of pretzels. So I sipped my tomato juice and looked forward to the room service I would order when I got to the hotel. I had planned to go to bed early so I’d be refreshed for the closing and my night with Hille but I’d never be able to sleep through the sounds of my stomach growling. And it wasn’t as if I thought I’d be able to fall sleep easily anyway. I’d be too busy imagining Hille’s face as he moved in to plant his juicy lips on mine.

  I wondered what the others would say if we started dating. Would they be psyched or think it was weird? I didn’t think we were any weirder a couple than Paul and Hope, although I had to admit they were pretty cute together despite the almost ten-year age difference.

  I was picturing my family’s Chanukah dinner with Hille as my date when the flight attendant announced we had started our descent. I had only gotten to the portion of the daydream when Sam and I tried to stifle our giggles while lighting the menorah and reading the prayer. I couldn’t decide whether Hille would be bothered by our mockery of the Festival of Lights or if as a goy (my mom’s word), he’d find it as amusing as we did. I knew my mom would be thrilled I finally brought a date to one of the Jewish holidays. She was always on my back, but each time I had contemplated asking someone, we’d broken up by the time the dinner came along.

  Since it was too late to nap, I removed my MP3 player from my carry-on bag and shoved the bag underneath the seat in front of me. I returned my seatback to the upright and locked position and, for the last 20 minutes of the flight, closed my eyes and listened to the songs I had downloaded the night before to inspire me to go for it with Hille. I had already listened to Natasha Bedingfield’s “Unwritten” and Van Halen’s “Right Now” when we landed. Michelle Branch’s “Breathe” had just started when I walked through the gate into LaGuardia and headed to baggage claim. Carry-on was not an option since my toiletries alone took up an entire bag.

  ~ * ~

  When the fat guy waved me over, I faked a smile, walked to where he was sitting at the head of the large conference table and proceeded to notarize a set of documents for at least the 40th time that day. I had assumed an 8:00 reservation would give me plenty of time to finish the closing, go back to the hotel and take my time getting ready but it was already past 4:30 and Gina, the other paralegal on the deal, had just left to bring more coffee. I started tapping my foot impatiently until I felt the fat man’s eyes on me and silently reminded myself to chill out. I had asked to come to New York to attend the closing and so I had to suck it up. It would all be worth it when Hille and I admitted our feelings and laughed about how much time we’d wasted crushing on each other silently. And besides, the less time I had to get to ready, the less time I had to stress out. It was all good.

  I applied my notary stamp and seal to the last document in the large pile, turned to the fat man, who I knew from witnessing his signature was named Neil, and said, “These are all done.”

  Neil reached out his hand and said, “Thank you for your help today.”

  Hoping he didn’t notice my head jerk back at his expression of gratitude, I smiled, shook his hand and said, “It was my pleasure.” I blushed, feeling guilty for calling him fat, even though it wasn’t out loud.

  Adam, the associate on the deal, witnessed the exchange and said, “Stephanie’s from our D.C. office. We were lucky she was available to step in at the last minute when two of our local legal assistants were unavailable.” He grinned at me and said, “Thanks, Stephanie. You were really helpful.”

  “I’m glad I could be here,” I said.

  “We’re pretty much through here so you can leave if you want. I need to talk to you about something, though. Do you have a minute?” Adam asked.

  A minute sounded awesome to me, certainly better than an hour. “Sure,” I said.

  Adam, who was only about two inches taller than me but looked just like Casey Affleck, down to the green eyes, brown hair and even the beauty mark under his lip, walked me to the corner. He scratched his head and my eyes automatically darted to his left ring finger. It was bare. Not that it mattered, of course, since I only had eyes for Hille.

  “Is something wrong with my hand?”

  Feeling the pink rise in my cheeks, I quickly looked away and pretended to scan the room while ordering myself to think fast. When I turned back towards him, I frowned and said, “I think I lost my lucky ring. I didn’t realize it was missing until I looked at your hand.”

  Adam/Casey looked at me thoughtfully. Then he pointed to the conference table and said, “Maybe it’s under the table. You were sitting there for a while before.”

  I remained silent while I looked in the direction of the conference table and pretended to consider Adam’s suggestion. Then I widened my eyes and, feigning surprise, said, “Actually, I just remembered! I left it at home. I was afraid to bring it to the big bad city.” I exhaled deeply, smiled and said, “Crisis averted!”

  I couldn’t believe how quickly I recovered. Much faster than the time I met this cute guy at a bar and asked his sister to set us up. Since it was actually her husband, it didn’t go over too well.

  “So, can you make it?”

  Staring at Adam blankly, I asked, “Make what?”

  Grinning, Adam said, “Carmines. Everyone on the deal is going out to dinner tomorrow night to celebrate. Can you make it?”

  “Sounds great. I was planning on coming in tomorrow to do some post closing work so I’m not going back to D.C. until Friday anyway.” If all went well, I’d be hanging out with Hille again tomorrow but I wasn’t going to jinx myself by saying I had other plans.

  “Awesome. Well, enjoy the rest of your night. Anything fun planned?”

  “Just dinner with my friend, Craig.” Looking at my watch I said, “I should actually get back to the hotel and change. I don’t like to wear panty hose any longer than necessary!” Wondering if that was too much information, I bit my lip and anxiously scanned the room searching for a subject change.

  Adam laughed. “I can’t stand wearing panty hose either.” Winking at me, he added, “But it’s okay for special occasions.”

  “Your secret is safe with me,” I joked. Scrutinizing Adam as nonchalantly as possible, from his shiny black shoes through which I could almost see my reflection, his neatly pressed navy suit and pink tie, his clean-shaven face and his ring finger sans wedding ring, I questioned his sexual preferences.

  Smiling warmly at me, he said, “Okay. Have fun.”

  Figuring it was perfectly acceptable to flirt with a guy before going on a date with someone else if the first guy was gay, I offered an enthusiastic, “That’s the plan” and threw in a wink for good measure.

  While waiting for the elevator, I took my phone out of my bag and called Hille. I told him I’d meet him at Del Frisco
’s at 7:30 which meant I had at least two hours to get ready.

  ~ * ~

  During my long, hot shower, such senseless thoughts as ‘the next time I shower, my night with Hille will be over,’ ‘the next time I shave my legs, I’ll know whether Hille shares my attraction’ and ‘the next time I flush this toilet, I might have finally hooked up with Hille in real life instead of in my imagination’ ran through my mind.

  I wanted to look sexy but not skirt up to my crotch with-fishnet stockings and fuck me pumps sexy. After emptying my closet and most of my dresser drawers at home, I decided to wear a simple, black, linen, A-line dress. It fell to a little above my knees and was cinched at the waist with a skinny red patent leather belt. I wore it with red patent pumps for an additional pop of color. I also packed two pairs of jeans, black leggings and about five possible tops in the event I changed my mind at the last minute, but stuck to the original plan because the dress enhanced my best attributes and detracted from what I considered my worst. In other words, it showed off my small waist while hiding my ample tushy. And I had never tripped and fallen while wearing those particular shoes.

  With shaky hands, I applied my makeup, using at least 30 Q-tips in the process. I practiced looking at Hille seductively from under my eyelashes and licking my lips without looking like I was auditioning for a Pearl Drops toothpaste commercial. And I smiled at myself to see how widely I could grin without showing too much gums.

  Make-up finished, I removed the towel from my head, applied my favorite anti-frizz serum and patiently blow dried my thick head of hair until the spot on the back of my head that tended to stay wet even hours after showering was bone dry.

  I turned my suitcase upside down and couldn’t find my flat iron. I stood up and circled the hotel room frantically. Where the hell was it? Realizing I must have unpacked it before I showered, I ran into the bathroom, relief washing over me, until I saw the only electronic appliance in the room besides the hotel-provided blow dryer was my cell phone. My heart palpitating, I sat on the toilet bowl and took deep breaths in and out. I refused to have a heart attack before I even got to kiss Hille. And then I remembered. I thanked God for small favors and ran back to my suitcase where I removed the flatiron from one of the shoe pockets I had shoved it in when the suitcase wouldn’t close with it on top.

  I continued practicing facial expressions in the mirror until the flatiron heated up and I was at last able to continue my beautification process. But after all that, I wasn’t convinced I couldn’t look better. I always knew I needed a haircut when my hair didn’t look good even after I used my expensive ‘reserved-for-dates’ shampoo and conditioner. I was tempted to wear it up but most guys I surveyed preferred my hair down and, unless Hille was in the minority, he hopefully wouldn’t even notice that my long layers were a bit too long. And since it wasn’t raining out or humid, it was unlikely to look any worse as the night went on.

  When I was ready to go, I stood up on the bed and checked out my body from all angles in the mirror. I couldn’t get a perfect view of my butt without risking breaking my neck but I felt pretty confident that I looked kind of hot. I smiled at myself in the mirror and sprayed some Binaca even though I had already brushed my teeth twice. Before I let the door close, I took one last look at the hotel room and wondered if Hille would be with me when I walked back in.

  Six

  Upon entering the restaurant, I was bombarded by a group of men on their way out. They were dressed in corporate attire and carrying leather briefcases and I guessed they were either business executives or lawyers. All but one had salt and pepper hair and I had a feeling the other one probably used Just for Men. Middle-aged and probably too old for me, although my mother constantly told me to keep my options open with respect to men in their early 40s.

  I accidentally brushed up against ‘Just for Men guy’ as we crossed paths.

  Beaming at me, he said, “You’re going in the wrong direction! We’re headed over to Connelly’s around the corner.”

  I gave him a wide grin and said, “No can do. On a date!”

  Shaking his head, ‘Just for Men guy’ said, “Too bad for me!”

  I smiled, said, “Thanks for the offer, though,” and walked into the restaurant. I couldn’t resist turning around to see if he was still looking at me. He was, and I took it as a sign that the extra care I took getting ready did not go unnoticed.

  Still smiling and feeling pretty, I climbed the staircase up to the bar. At the top of the stairs, I scanned the crowded restaurant. Paul would call this place a ‘sausage fest,’ albeit an upscale one. Among the men of different ages but sporting the same basic uniform, I quickly spotted Hille sitting on one of the stools at the bar. He had a clear drink in front of him and was staring intently at his Blackberry. I wasn’t entirely convinced he received that many emails and wondered if the constant checking of his Blackberry was not just a nervous habit or a crutch for when he had nothing else to do. I took a deep breath as I walked toward him, tapped him on his back and said, “Jeez, Craig, do you ever put that thing down?”

  He turned around, smiled at me and said, “I will now.” Then he stood up and kissed me on the cheek. “Wow. You look really nice, Steph.”

  I hadn’t even noticed his eyes graze my body, which was more than I could say for most of the women sitting at the bar, but I said, “Thanks, Craig, I try.” Then I sat down on the stool he had saved for me and just smiled at him, searching for my personality. Where was a bartender when you needed one?

  “I know you said dinner is on you, but can I at least buy you a drink first?” he asked.

  “I’m expensing everything, remember? But, hey, if it makes you happy, sure, buy me a drink. What are you drinking”?

  “Sprite,” he said.

  I felt the blood drain from my face as I realized Hille would be sober all night. “Sprite? Wow, you’re living on the wild side tonight, Craig!”

  “Just kidding. I’m drinking gin and tonic. What do you want?”

  The blood returning to my face, I said, “Not gin and tonic!”

  Looking amused at my strong reaction, Hille asked, “What, you don’t like gin?”

  I cringed as I flashed back to the night I drank gin and tonics at a work function a few years back. My memory wasn’t entirely clear, but I recalled gushing at each attorney, telling him he was my favorite, and rubbing the belly of a senior partner as if he was the Buddha. And I had to wake my neighbor to let me into my apartment later that night when I couldn’t focus to fit the key into the lock. Grossest of all were the cornbread crumbs in my hair the next morning. I still had no idea how they got there. “Let’s just say the combination of me and gin is lethal,” I said.

  “So, gin and tonic it is then?” Hille teased.

  Hoping that meant he was looking forward to taking advantage of me later, I shifted my bar stool a bit closer to him and said, “Funny. No, I think I’ll go with vanilla vodka and ginger ale.” I had already put much thought into my drink of choice for the night. Beer was out because I didn’t want to get too full, red wine was out because I didn’t want my teeth to turn blue, and I was afraid a fancy martini would go straight to my head. I wanted to be seductive, not sloppy. After the bartender poured my drink, Hille asked, “So how was the closing?”

  I turned my body sideways so I was leaning in towards him and said, “Totally exciting. I felt very important and all. I mean, it takes a very talented paralegal to take coffee orders. Aside from serving a light and sweet coffee to a guy who had asked for it black, I managed to stay out of trouble.”

  Giving me a high five, Hille said, “Atta girl!”

  I giggled but then admitted I actually liked being involved in closings. “It’s nice to witness the documents I prepare all day being signed. They might mean nothing to me when the day is through, but millions of dollars are exchanged upon signature of a document I drafted. Kind of cool in a geeky sort of way.”

  “I understand. You’re talking to the king of geeks.”<
br />
  “You’re not a geek, Craig. Just a brain!” I patted Hille’s knee but quickly removed my hand, fearing I was coming on too strong so early in the night. “What time is it?” I asked.

  Hille glanced down at his Blackberry and said, “Just about 8:00. You think our table is ready?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll check.” As I walked with my back to him towards the hostess, I wondered if Hille was watching me and tried very hard to walk normally as if I was not at all self-conscious that he might be looking at my butt. The hostess was a pale woman, probably in her late twenties. She wore her hair slicked back in a bun and with just red lipstick to add color to her face, reminded me of one of the girls from Robert Palmer’s “Addicted to Love” video. After she handed two menus to a waiter and directed the men in front of me to follow him to a table, she smiled at me and said, “Can I help you?”

  “Yes. I have an eight o’clock reservation for two. Cohen.”

 

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