ArtoftheLie

by Delphine Dryden

  “No. I wish one of us had cable.”

  But chickens can’t afford cable…

  “Then one of us would just be paying to have yet more channels of nothing good on.” She handed him a bottle and flopped down on the other couch, not bothering to face the TV. She was unable to hide her gasp when the movement of sitting down caused her panties to tug against her sensitive bits in an unexpected way.

  “Lindy. Is something wrong?”

  She shot him a sour look. “Just remind me never to go to a spa with Tess and get all crazy and wild again, okay? I think I’m experiencing some buyer’s remorse.”

  “Is this remorse about a good or a service?”

  “I’m not playing twenty questions about this, Richard.” She reached for the remote but he yanked it out of her reach. She sighed, exasperated, and sagged back in her seat, fidgeting a little before she could stop herself.

  “Just tell me!”

  “It is too freaking hot to argue.”

  “Then stop arguing. If I guess, will you tell me?”

  “What are you, twelve? You know, sometimes you remind me of my little brother so much it’s scary.”

  Undeterred, Richard slid the remote behind his back and crossed his arms. He contemplated Lindy’s lap, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “I’m going to Sherlock Holmes this motherfucker, then. Get ready for deductive brilliance.”

  “M’kay.” She downed a big slug of water, trying desperately to appear unconcerned. Things seemed to be headed in a dangerous direction.

  “So you went to the spa with your sister, and there you underwent a procedure of some sort that seems to have involved a tender portion of your anatomy.”

  “I’m not exactly floored by the brilliance yet.”

  “A reaction to mud or sea salt or some shit like that could have caused a rash, resulting in uncomfortable itching. However—” He held a finger up when Lindy started to interrupt. “However, your legs, arms and face seem free from any unsightly rashes. Quite the contrary, in fact, dear lady. They are smooth and unblemished. And look really, really soft, actually.”

  “Thank you. But I don’t think Holmes said ‘some shit like that’ when he was deducing stuff,” Lindy pointed out, wishing she could use this time to get in some advance flirting. The problem was she had no clue how to flirt, as the phone call with Paul had made all too clear. She chided herself for not spending more time watching those girls who picked up Richard so easily in college. How on earth had they done it, anyway? Surely it hadn’t sounded anything like this conversation.

  Waggling his eyebrows, Richard fired back, “You don’t see me wearing the dumb-ass hat or smoking a pipe, either. Okay, so it isn’t a rash. At least if it is, it’s somehow localized to this area right in here.” He gestured toward her waist and then lower, circling his hand vaguely. “So what beauty procedure specific to that area might result in an uncomfort—”

  Lindy had been staring at her water bottle as she peeled the label off, but when Richard stopped short she looked up to see him staring at her with his mouth slightly open. He wasn’t staring at her face.

  “Oh my god,” he said, whispering reverently. “You got waxed, didn’t you?”

  Lindy rolled her eyes and sighed in defeat. “Maybe.”

  “Like…the whole thing? Or with a little design or—”

  “Richard!” She tried to cross her legs, regretted it instantly and slammed her foot back down on the floor.

  “Well if you don’t want to tell me, you could always just show me.” He gave her a suggestive smirk, and Lindy found herself infuriated that he felt so safe saying something like that. So sure it could only ever be a joke between them.

  Then, with a shock, she realized this conversation might well be the best opening she’d ever get. They were already talking about sexy things, the night was young, she was still a tiny bit buzzed from those mimosas. It might not be what she had planned but maybe it was time to bite the bullet. Do it now, before she could lose her nerve.

  “If I showed you,” she said hesitantly, “what would you do about it?”

  Tension, immediate and electric, sizzled between them as Richard met her eyes in stunned silence. He stared at her face, then down at her lap, then up at her face again before his brain finally seemed to reconnect to his mouth.

  “I guess that would depend on why you were showing me.”

  Lindy licked her lips, wondering how her mouth could feel so dry when she’d just been drinking cold water. “Well, it seems like a shame to do something like this and not have anybody to appreciate it.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you could find plenty of people who would be more than appreciative,” he assured her, trying to put his water bottle on the coffee table and missing. He reached out with the bottle again, found the table without looking then pulled back and took another swig before finally setting the bottle down.

  His nervous fumbling made Lindy feel a little more confident. Reaching one foot out, she nudged his leg with a toe. “So are you saying you don’t want me to show you?”

  “Wow. Okay, this is not what I expected to happen this afternoon. In fact, I’m not exactly sure what’s happening, here. Can you tell me that, maybe? Tell me just what is happening? Because I have to admit, I’m a little confused.”

  But he caught her raised foot in his hand and lifted it to his lap, and Lindy couldn’t help but notice that his gaze kept drifting along that leg to the hidden topic of their bizarre conversation. The touch of his fingers on the arch of her foot sent maddening tendrils of sensation up the back of her thigh. Steeling herself, Lindy dropped the bomb.

  “I’m seducing you.” Even as she said it, Lindy realized that if she had to explain, she was probably doing something very wrong.

  “I got that part,” Richard replied. Well, at least she hadn’t done it entirely wrong. “What I can’t figure out is—why.”

  Was there more than one reason for seduction?

  “Because I want you to have sex with me.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I…you heard me.”

  “What the hell, Lindy?” He leaned closer, sniffing at her. “Have you been drinking?”

  “No. Well, a tiny bit at the spa, but not enough to count. Listen. Richard. I know this is sudden. And none of this is really going the way I’d planned it. At all. Not even close, actually. But if you think about it, it makes perfect sense. Somebody has to do it, and you’re the perfect person.” She pulled her foot away and sat forward, leaning closer, ready to convince him.

  “Okay, wait. Back up. Just back up, here.” He put his hands out in a “stop” gesture. “You want me to sleep with you? Out of the blue? Why?”

  Lindy realized her abrupt approach was failing dismally and she struggled to shift gears. “Well, I really like you. You’re such a good friend. And I trust you. You’re not a total asshole. But you’re also not going to treat it like something it’s not, just because it’s…you know, just because I haven’t done it before. You’ll be cool about it. You will have done me this huge favor and we’ll still be friends afterward.”

  “You haven’t done what before?”

  His obvious cluelessness brought Lindy up short. “Um. Sex. I haven’t done sex before. I, uh…thought you knew that.”

  “Ah, no,” he replied. Hands on his knees, back oddly stiff. “No, I did not know that.”

  “Oh shit.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Wow. I really thought you knew. I mean, I thought everybody knew.” She realized she was repeating herself, but she was too startled to censor herself and it was all she could think to say.

  “I knew back in college. I didn’t know it was still true today.”

  Lindy sat back and drew her knees up to her chin with her arms wrapped around them, tucking her skirt tightly around her thighs. She’d gone from giddy to mortified in seconds, and was still trying to cope with the change.

  “Give me a second here,” Richard requested, taking a deep breath and t
urning to face her. He was still wearing an incredulous expression. “Okay, seriously? You’re how old, twenty-five?”

  “Twenty-six,” she mumbled into her knees.

  “Then how is that even possible? I’ve seen you go on dates. And I know you must have had offers. Is this like a religious thing?”

  “No. It wasn’t on purpose or anything. I didn’t set out to not do it. It just sort of happened.”

  “Didn’t happen,” he corrected her.

  “Exactly. And the longer it goes on, the harder and harder it gets. And I—”

  “That’s a bad visual for me right now, Lind.” He grimaced, shifting in his seat again. She looked down and gaped at the very obvious erection Richard was unable to conceal in his snug jeans. Sighing, he snagged a throw pillow and shoved it onto his lap. “Please, do go on. But watch the language, okay?”

  “Um.” She cleared her throat, hoping that her furious blush was not as red and blotchy as it felt. “So the longer I’ve waited to do it, just because the time never seemed quite right, or the guy never seemed quite right, the more important the whole thing seems to have gotten. Like, it wouldn’t have been such a big deal five years ago. But now I’m twenty-six. Do you have any idea what kind of response a girl gets if she tells her date she’s a twenty-six-year-old virgin?”

  “Ouch. Yeah, I can see where that would be a problem.”

  “I don’t really want to wait forever for Mr. Right. But any guy that’s willing to do me with no strings is nobody I’d want to do. At least not the first time. And what’s worse is the guys who think it’s a great thing, and assume I’m saving it on purpose. If that’s their mindset, then believe me, they’re so not attracted once I say I really just want to do it to get it over with. Or they’re all, ‘Oh are you okay, is it okay if I touch you here?’ And I’m thinking, ‘It would have been if you hadn’t asked first. We’re already making out, I already let you get me naked, of course it’s okay to touch me there, idiot. What do you think we’re here for?’ And then I’m just…not in the mood anymore.” Lindy growled in remembered frustration and banged her forehead softly against her knees.

  “I think this is the weirdest conversation I have ever had.”

  “Welcome to my dating world for the last several years.”

  He raised his eyebrows but said nothing. After a pause, Lindy went on.

  “So now, whenever I meet somebody I actually like, it’s just this huge issue I have to worry about from the very start. When am I going to say it? How am I going to say it? How’s the guy going to react? How do I even want him to react? What if he doesn’t think I look good naked? What if the sex is terrible and how will I even know that?”

  Richard had raised a hand to interrupt her as she was halfway through her last sentence. “That last one, you don’t need to worry about.”

  “How will I know if the sex is terrible?”

  “No,” he said, very slowly and patiently. “What if he doesn’t think you look good naked. Not an issue. Wipe it from your list of concerns. Your very long list of concerns.” He was staring down at the pillow, tugging at a loose thread in one corner. Lindy followed his gaze, remembered what the pillow was hiding and looked away quickly.

  “That’s nice of you to say.” She was far from convinced.

  “Not really. I came by the other day and your door was open a little, but I didn’t see you anywhere so I thought I should check it out and make sure you were okay. Like, make sure nobody had broken in or anything. So I looked for you and…you know, you just have a loft with no real doors and a transparent shower curtain. Although I noticed it sure steams right up once you start the shower running. Which you did right when I got there, or else I would have heard the water and known where you were to begin with. I locked the door for you on the way out, by the way. You should really be more careful.”

  “You saw me in the shower? Naked? Richard!”

  “You’re shocked? You just asked me to deflower you, and now you’re shocked that I accidentally walked in on you in the shower?”

  “Don’t say ‘deflower’. Oh god, that makes it sound so medieval. It’s a hymen, not a bunch of freaking rose petals. There’s nothing poetic about it. Ugh. You know what? Let’s just not talk about it at all, okay? Just forget I said anything. You just go home and forget this and I’m going to kill myself with an ice cream overdose. Please explain to my family after I’m gone.” She started to get up, planning to head for the nearest convenience store that carried ice cream by the half gallon. And wine. A lot of wine.

  “Sit back down. You’re not going anywhere.” His voice was quiet, but the steel in his tone made Lindy’s knees weak.

  She stopped, mid-stand, and sank back onto the deep seat. “Richard, I’m really sorry. I don’t know what came over me, it was just temporary insanity or something. Please, can we just try to get past—”

  “Are you saying you’re no longer interested?” He looked up at her with an expression she’d never seen on his face before. Harder, more intent. A dark thrill ran down her body and she tried in vain to suppress a shiver.

  “I’m saying I was nuts to ask you to do this,” she replied, feeling strangely like a kid in the principal’s office being asked to explain herself. Only with much more interesting consequences for misbehavior.

  “Why?” He leaned forward until he was only a foot or so away, still staring. Daring her to back away. “Don’t you think I’d do a good job?”

  Jesus. She tried to find her composure, but it was nowhere to be seen. The tone of his voice had done something to her, prompting a surge of moisture and tingling need between her legs. Her own voice came out as an utterly undignified squeak. “I wouldn’t know the difference. I have no basis for comparison, remember?”

  “How could I possibly forget?”

  Chapter Three

  Lindy looked like a deer in headlights. A very, very sexy deer in headlights, Richard amended to himself. Her eyes were wide and a little glassy, and as he watched, she licked her lips. The pink tip of her tongue entranced him, and he had to take drastic measures to keep from swooping down and just attacking her mouth. Thinking as hard as he could of kitten road kill, he moved to sit next to her, closing the final inches between them.

  Virgin virgin virgin, his hindbrain chanted, and he stuffed the chant firmly down beneath the ill-fated kittens before his overeager penis could take up the battle cry and completely short-circuit his brain. He could have resisted forever, he thought. He could have resisted anything but Lindy actually asking him to sleep with her. To be her first. Because he was such a good friend.

  He didn’t care if he regretted it later, he was almost dizzy with wanting her.

  “If I do this,” he said, trying to lighten the mood, “will you still respect me in the morning?”

  Her upper lip flexed. Not quite a smile, but close. “You’re assuming I respect you now?”

  “I’m wounded.” He clutched a hand to his heart. “You wound me.”

  “I will still respect you in the morning. I might even make you pancakes.”

  “Hmm. Sex for pancakes. I think my virtue is worth pancakes and at least some bacon or something on the side.”

  “Your virtue?” Lindy shot back. “I thought we were talking about my virtue here?”

  Now she was smiling. Nervously, but smiling. Much better, he decided. He loved her smile, especially the cute one where she looked at him like he was crazy but she liked him anyway. “Hey, you’re not the one who’s talking about giving it up for the price of a few pancakes.”

  “No, I’m just the one offering to pay for it with pancakes, apparently. But fine, I’ll spring for the bacon.”

  “Then we have a deal.”

  “Okay then.” She looked a little stumped about what to do next. She was wringing her hands, also, probably not a good sign. Richard pulled one of her hands free from the tangle, rubbing her palm with his thumb until her fingers relaxed a little. She smelled good, like shampoo and perfume.
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br />   “So,” he said, trying to sound casual, “we should probably shake hands on it or something. Or, you know, kiss. To seal the deal.”

  “Oh. Yeah, that makes sense.” Lindy was back in the headlights again but he decided to just go for it. Her mouth—lush, full lips already slightly parted—was just too alluring to resist any longer.

  He bent and brushed his mouth against hers, featherlight, pulling back when she was clearly expecting more. Never too early to start teasing, he figured. And if he’d gone any further just then, he didn’t know if he could have stopped so easily. He didn’t want to scare her away. Control, that was what he needed here. Iron control. He still couldn’t believe what was happening, though, and control was probably the last thing he had over the situation.

  Lindy looked up at him, eyes wide and anxious. Placed a hand on each of his shoulders and gave a little jump when Richard put his own hands on her waist, tugging her closer. When he pulled her nearest leg over his lap, she had another moment of evident panic.

  “You know, I wasn’t planning to do this until tomorrow. I had a whole thing planned,” she blurted.

  “Really? You’ll have to tell me all about that some time.”

  “Maybe I should’ve gotten drunk first.”

  Richard felt utterly calm and confident now that they’d started. If he knew one thing, it was how to make out with a girl, and that knowledge had already started to apply itself. “No, this is better. Much better.” He lowered his head and nuzzled the soft hairs behind her ear, pulling a shiver and a sigh from her. When he spoke again his lips and breath teased the taut muscle leading from her jaw to her shoulder. Lindy shuddered at the touch, as if he’d incited a minor riot in her central nervous system. “You wouldn’t want to dull your senses; you’d miss out on too much of the fun.”

  “You sound pretty sure of yourself.”

  He chuckled. “About this, I am. Not much else, but this?” He drew back, lifting his hands to her face. “This I’m absolutely certain about. You are going to enjoy the hell out of this experience, Lindy Moore. You are going to be the most well-satisfied ex-virgin in the history of sex by the time I’m through with you.”