***
Jay picked me up, and we drove into Newcastle to a restaurant he said was owned by a good friend. I’d expected him to roll up in a pickup with mud all over the tires. In fact, he owned a white Infiniti Q50, which was strikingly clean and had gray leather interior. And he was similarly well turned out. A charcoal suit and an open-necked midnight blue shirt were teamed with parted hair that was that perfect combination of neat and scruffy that seemed effortless, but probably wasn’t.
When we arrived at the restaurant, I assumed it must be closed, because the blinds were pulled down. However, Jay grinned at me as he pushed open an unlocked door and greeted his buddy with a typically masculine hug - full of firm slaps on the back.
As they said hello, I glanced about the place and noted that each and every single table was empty. There weren’t even place settings laid out.
Then, as Jay turned and introduced me, I found that he’d been blocking the one table that was dressed. It was even topped off with a small yellow rose in the center. He must have seen my perplexed squint, because he began to laugh.
“Kenny’s kindly agreed to let me have the whole place tonight,” he explained, tugging out one chair and offering me the seat with a gallant gesture of his free hand.
Surprised by the generous favor, I flicked my attention to Jay’s friend, a bear of a man with a shaggy beard and a Hawaiian shirt. “That’s very kind of you,” I told him.
“Not really,” he insisted, cocking his head at Jay. “He paid for it.”
My date’s eyes dropped shyly and he once again signaled for me to sit. This time, I did. And, as his friend walked away, he grasped the other chair, which sat opposite me, and hauled it around until it was placed at my right.
“I don’t like having the whole table between us,” he explained. Although it was a small table, I sort of knew what he meant. As he sat, his long legs brushed mine, but neither of us felt the ridiculously need to pull away. It felt strangely natural.
“So?” I breathed. “Do you mind if I ask why we have the whole place to ourselves?”
With a grin and a shrug, he reached for the rose. Gripping it’s stem, he twirled it in its vase. “Quieter,” he offered by way of an answer. “More intimate,” he added.
Something about the way he said ‘intimate’, more than the word itself and its meaning, caused my pelvic floor muscles to flutter wildly. “Well...um...” I murmured.
“You don’t mind, do ya?” he wondered.
“No, no,” I hurriedly assured him. “It was very thoughtful.”
“No worries,” he said with a small smile. “Anyway, how’s school going?”
And just like that, we drifted into quiet, amiable conversation. I was more than a little surprised that he took a genuine interest in my thesis. At first, I figured it was feigned through politeness or simply an attempt to keep the close atmosphere between us, but when he started asking questions about it, that thought quickly left me.
In the meantime, we ordered our food and some wine. I was impressed that he insisted on having only half a glass, and when I told him I didn’t feel comfortable drinking if he wasn’t, he didn’t push me to continue knocking back the booze.
So, I’d established that he wasn’t faking an interest to get in my pants, and he wasn’t trying to get me drunk. I liked this guy more and more.
“Will you be lecturing again?” I wondered over appetizers.
“Yeah,” he nodded, placing his hand in front of his mouth as he swallowed a morsel of calamari. “Yeah, my mate wants me to do quite a bit this semester.”
“That’s good,” I beamed, figuring that I would be able to meet him for lunches or coffees.
“Well, having an extra income stream is handy,” he agreed, unaware of my meaning.
“You seem to be doing OK,” I chuckled.
“Yeah, not bad,” he conceded with a shrug. “Some seasons are better than others, though. We had a pretty tough winter this year.”
“Then, it was naughty of you to go to all this trouble,” I gently chided, indicating the empty restaurant around us with a quick circuit of my gaze.
“Well,” he mumbled, the merest hint of a blush creeping into his tan cheeks. “I wanted to do somethin’ special for you.”
Releasing the hold I had on my fork, my brain had no say in the movement of my right hand. It slipped casually under the table and laid itself rather presumptuously on his thigh. The muscle beneath my palm was broad and strong, and I experienced vivid flashbacks of being squeezed between both of those athletic legs. Still functioning without my conscious input, my fingers rubbed him in a way that was decorous but unquestionably more familiar than I had a right to touch him.
He didn’t seem offended. He didn’t even some thrown by it. Smiling, he pushed that leg closer to me, causing his calf to stroke mine.
“You know what you wanna do when you get your doctorate?” he asked calmly, the conversation suddenly veered away from how our bodies were responding to each other.
It took me a little longer to collect myself sufficiently to reply. “Uh...I thought about teaching,” I softly said. “But, I’d really like to get out in the field, take part in some excavations.”
“Then you should,” he stated simply.
When the main course arrived, I was faced with a choice between trying to eat one-handed or relinquishing my hold on Jay’s leg. Eventually, I plumped for the latter, but it wasn’t an easy decision to make.
As we ate, I asked him more about his family, and how often he got across the other side of the country to see his mom. It was obvious that, despite the distance, they were close.
“So,” he sighed gently, resting his silverware neatly on an empty plate before dabbing sedately at the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “You’re gonna be here for three years at least?”
Swallowing the last of my squid ink linguine, I nodded. “Yeah. It seems like a long time, but I guess it’ll go fast.”
“I think you’re right,” he quietly confirmed. “I think it’ll go dead quick. But not too quick, I hope.” Resting the arm closest to me on the table, he reached forward with his other hand and brushed that pesky strand of hair away from my face.
“Sorry,” I muttered, annoyed at, and by, my stupid hair. “Was it bugging you?” Silently, I was cursing Matt for not letting me spray it back where it belonged.
“No,” he smiled, shaking his head subtly. “No, it wasn’t bugging me. I’ve just been fighting the urge to touch it ever since you answered your front door.”
Either the heat from his leg was increasing or my core temperature was spiking, because the sensation of his touch, even with the fabric of his pants between us, seemed abruptly more oppressive. Yet, it wasn’t a sensation that made me want to pull away. On the contrary, they were flames I would quite happily have danced in.
His face was so close. His lips so very near, and my own ached for the feel of them. However, he wasn’t drawing any closer. After a few agonizing moments, during which I tried to will him to kiss me, I took the plunge. Leaning forward, I closed the gap between us.
My mouth brushed hesitatingly at his, fearing that he might pull away. It was ridiculously unfounded, though. And as his lips gently started to press temptingly back at mine, I determined not to wait for him to deepen the kiss this time. Recklessly, I sucked his lower lip into my mouth.
A deep, husky groan escaped him, rippling through our joined mouths. And then, carefully and with exquisite deliberateness he licked at my upper lip with just the barest whisper. I moaned in turn and forewent revelling in the remnants of the rich lobster sauce from his dinner in favor of sinking my tongue into the depths of his warm, inviting mouth.
I felt and heard him chuckle as my invading tongue swept over the surface of his velvety soft one. And then, his began to slowly entwine with mine. Smoothly, his tongue moved in ardent, teasingly sensual strokes. And very quickly the only thought in my head was that of having another part of his body
move within me like that. Feeling my heartbeat thundering, and my breathing become shallower, I pulled back slightly.
“Do...you wanna come back to mine?” I asked, so quietly I barely even heard myself.
Jay had no trouble hearing me, though. “Isn’t Matt there?” he wondered softly, his hand slipping under the table and gently curling around my left knee.
I shivered at the sensation of his touch, and struggled to swallow. “Yeah, but your place is much further away,” I pointed out with barely disguised desperation.
A mischievous and knowing grin spread across his gorgeous face. “I know somewhere close,” he whispered, his fingers stroking small circles on the back of my knee. “If you’re sure you want to.”
I’d never wanted anything as much in my entire life.