“I might love you now,” I announce. And he grins.
“Don’t get too attached,” he kids. “I never fall in love with clients.”
And even though he was joking, his words hit home with me. I’m a client. I pay him to be nice to me. What the hell am I doing?
Shade looks at my expression. “I was just kidding!” he says quickly. “I mean, I don’t date clients on a personal basis…but…”
“It’s okay,” I tell him. “You don’t have to explain. How did you get started in this job, anyway?”
He settles back on my cushions and stares at the ceiling, biting his lip for a second as he thinks.
“I don’t know. I had a friend who talked me into it. I’m a guy, and of course, I like to have sex. It seemed like a good idea. My dad wanted me to go into the business field and I don’t think that’s for me. But I don’t know what I want to do yet.”
I think about that.
“Did you go to college?”
“Yep. I graduated with a degree in Sociology. I don’t know that I want to go to graduate school, but my father is convinced that I need an MBA.”
I stare down at his leg, which is pressed against mine. His is strong and long.
“You don’t need an MBA if you don’t want to go into business,” I tell him. “But it wouldn’t hurt to have in case you do eventually decide to go down that road. You’re still young. You’ll figure it out.”
“I know,” he tells me, turning onto his side and pushing a stray lock of my hair behind my ear. “I have confidence in that. My father is the one who doesn’t.”
“Oh, he’ll come around,” I say absently as I look down at Shade’s gorgeous body. I still can’t quite believe I have a sexy guy like him on my bed right now and I am completely out of commission. I curse every sex god that there is.
Shade sits up and pokes at the tea bags. “These are cool enough now. Hold still.”
He arranges the wet, clumpy bags on my bald, bald vagina.
“Let these sit for a while,” he instructs. “Something about them soothes the skin. I can’t remember why. But I do know that it works.”
“Okay,” I answer, because honestly, it feels better already. “This is a whole new definition of tea-bagging, you know.”
He laughs, true amusement passing over his face which causes his gorgeous eyes to sparkle. It reminds me of how young he is.
“I should go before Sophie comes home,” he says. “Thank you for letting me get my watch.”
“Thank you for rubbing aloe onto my vagina,” I answer.
He grins. “Surprisingly, that’s something I don’t hear every day.”
I laugh and my phone rings.
I start to reach for it and wince.
Shade shakes his head and retrieves it, handing it to me.
“Hello?” I answer. Shade motions toward the bathroom. I shake my head. Of course he can use it. His penis has been inside of my body. It isn’t a problem for it to be inside of my bathroom, too.
“Allison? It’s Brian. From work.”
I freeze.
Oh God. Not right now. Really?? Right now, when I am lying with my female business exposed and rubbed with aloe and covered in wet tea bags, and while my gigolo is within hearing distance? What kind of sick joke is Fate trying to play on me? But of course I don’t say that.
“Hi Brian,” I say instead.
“Hey, I hope this isn’t a bad time. But I was thinking about you today. And I know it’s hard after a divorce to get back out there. And I’ve been through that. So I just thought I’d ask you to dinner. If you’d like.”
Long pause.
There is no way that this is coincidental. But the question is, how did Sara get to him? This is her handiwork. I can feel it.
But worse, I can feel Brian’s nervousness. He is nervous about calling me and I find that I can’t bring myself to reject him. Even though Shade has emerged from the bathroom now and is leaning against the doorway watching me with interest.
“Oh. Um. Yes. I’d love to. Just a friendly dinner? That would be fun.”
That was me, subtly pointing out that we would be going out as friends.
I hope he gets the point.
“Absolutely,” he answers, obviously relieved. “Just a friendly dinner. Friday night?”
“Sure,” I answer.
“Great. We can settle the details later. Have a great night, Allison.”
“You too, Brian.”
We hang up and I want to throw my phone.
“Freaking Sara!” I grouse. Shade looks even more interested, so I explain. And he’s amused. I’m not so much.
“This could be fun,” he assures me. “Trust me. Weren’t you going to make an appointment with me on Friday night?”
I look at him, not seeing his point.
“Yes. But I still can… I’ll just go to dinner first.”
Shade nods, a mischievous light in his blue, blue eyes.
“You sure will,” he says and I am instantly nervous.
“What are you thinking?” I ask. If I weren’t in so much pain still, I would back away slowly.
“I’m going to send you something,” he tells me. “It will be fun. I want you to wear it when you go out on your date with Brian—before you come see me. Do you promise?”
I stare at him. “I don’t know. Do you promise that I’ll like it? And that it will fit?”
He nods, his eyes sparkling.
“Oh, I promise…both that you will love it and that it will fit.”
“Hmm. Okay. I can’t say no to that, then.”
He smiles, satisfied.
“Perfect. I’ll see you Friday. Dream about me.”
“Okay.” I grin at his cockiness.
He leaves and I close my eyes.
Lo and behold, later that night when I finally go to sleep after Sophie returns home, I do dream about him.
And they aren’t PG-13 dreams, either.
********
My vagina has decided that she hates me.
This much is true and apparent.
I wake up with my crotch still on fire. Sort of. It’s okay, really, until it rubs against something. Like fabric or a chair or a sheet or anything at all. It’s a little inconvenient since I can’t go to work naked.
I groan as I step into the shower, imagining the day I’m going to have.
And then I scream as the hot water runs down over my vag. It may as well be boiling.
Cold water!
Cold water!
Cold water!
My brain is screaming at me and I fumble with the water, turning it all the way over to cold. Which of course leaves me screaming and hopping as I try to adjust it to a tepid temperature that I can actually stand in while I wash my hair.
All the commotion, of course, brings Sophie running into my bathroom.
“Are you alright?” she shouts. “Did you fall?”
“I’m fine!” I call back. “Just had a surge of hot water scald me to death. It’s fine. Go get ready for school. But hey- can you put the tea kettle on the stove on your way back through the kitchen?”
“Okay,” she answers, already turning around. Her concern for my well-being is overwhelming. I could have first degree burns in here and she wouldn’t care.
I’m going to be a bitch today. I can already tell. It’s just one of those days.
I take the shortest shower in the history of mankind, then towel off before I pad to the kitchen and make a cup of tea with six teabags. I dunk them a few times, then lay them on a saucer to cool, just as I watched Shade do it last night.
I return to my room and pull on a black pencil skirt, and a hot pink silk blouse. I have the perfect pair of heels to match it. By this time, my tea bags have cooled enough, so I shove my skirt up to my waist, lay flat on my back on my bed and cover my crotch with the wet bags.
Ahhhhhhh. If my vagina had a nirvana, this might be it. Well, this would be its Nirvana today, anyway. My vagina is sort of a fic
kle little thing.
I am remembering how Shade carefully arranged the bags for me last night, his long fingers moving them around just so, when I hear a rushed voice.
“Hey, mom, I need some money for lunch---“
Sophie bursts into my room and skids to a stop, her look a priceless cross between horror and shock. I’m sure it mirrors my own. I scramble to sit up and yank my skirt down, and as I do, the wet tea bags scatter on the white carpet of my bedroom.
I’m not sure what to do first, pick them up before they stain or try to explain to my daughter what she just saw.
“Um.” I bend to yank the bags up and Sophie shakes her head.
“You are so weird, mom.”
And she walks back out.
“There’s money in my wallet!” I call to her.
No answer.
I’ve probably scarred my kid for life.
I grab my cell phone and text Sara.
I so hate you right now.
I jog down the hall and get a sponge, then clean up the tea spots on my carpet. Because of this whole debacle, which has all stemmed from Sara, I only have a few minutes to throw some makeup on and yank a brush through my hair. I have a meeting first thing this morning and I can’t be late because I’m pretty sure Alex will be sitting in.
I decide against wearing stockings or even panties today. I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I can’t have anything touching my girl. I just can’t. If I weren’t in so much pain, I would feel naughty for going to work sans panties.
As it is, I just feel grumpy. When I get in my car, I carefully arrange Brazilian Baldy so that she’s not rubbing against my seat. My phone buzzes. It’s Sara.
That was your vagina talking, not you. You love me. You have to. Because I know all of your secrets.
I sigh. She has a point.
Fine. My vagina hates you, I answer.
I don’t even have time to stop and get coffee on the way to work, which definitely doesn’t bode well for my day.
As I breeze past Taylor, I growl, “I need coffee.”
She takes one look at my face and scrambles to her feet, presumably to find me some. I love that girl. She knows me so well. And also, she doesn’t want to put up with me sans caffeine. I know that much is true because I don’t want to put up with me sans caffeine either.
“Alli,” she calls from behind me, but I ignore her. I’m so not in the mood for anything right now until I have imbibed at least two cups.
“I’m not in the mood yet,” I call back as I open my office door.
I’m not usually such a bitch, but a raw crotch will do that to a person.
I stalk into my office and stop.
Alex is sitting casually on the couch, his legs propped up while he reads the Wall Street Journal. I stare. He glances up. He’s got two cups from a local coffee house sitting next to him. He is wearing black pinstripe slacks and a white button-up. He looks fresh and handsome and it’s apparent that he is certainly not suffering from a raw crotch.
And holy shit. Sara was right. It definitely depends on who is wearing the button-up as to how boring it is.
This white-button up is not boring at all. When it is stretched across two strong shoulders like that, how could it be boring?
Alex smiles.
It’s a beautiful smile that makes the corners of his gorgeous eyes crinkle.
“I took a chance and guessed that you like Kona coffee,” he says cheerfully, handing me one of the cups. “Sugar and cream. I’m sorry if it’s not right.”
“Bless you,” I say as I grab the cup greedily from his fingers. I restrain myself from gulping it down in two swallows. Instead, I sip it like a lady. A lady who has been wandering in the desert for two weeks and is ready to die from thirst, that is.
Alex laughs.
“Bad morning?”
I lower the cup. If I admit it, he might think I can’t handle personal stress after all. And I can’t tell him about my vag problems.
“Um. Just busy already,” I tell him.
“Well, I won’t keep you. I just wanted to tell you that I’ll be sitting in your staff meeting today. I just want to get a feel for your department. No big thing. I just didn’t want you to feel surprised.”
I smile. I’m feeling gracious now that the caffeine is circulating through my veins.
“It’s fine. I expected that you would join us today and obviously, you are welcome any time. Is there anything in particular you want us to cover?”
Alex shakes his sexy head.
“No. Just go on with business as usual. If I have questions, I’ll ask.”
He picks up his paper and takes his leave. He is barely gone before I buzz for Taylor. She walks in and I smile pleasantly.
“Is there any reason why you didn’t mention as I walked past you that our new boss was waiting for me in my office?”
She smiles back like the saucy wench that she is.
“Yes. You said that you weren’t in the mood for it yet.”
I take four deep breaths and mentally pick up my stapler and throw it at her smiling head. She smiles wider, as if she knows my thoughts.
“In the future,” I say calmly, still smiling, “Please let me know when Alex Harris is waiting for me, even if I say that I’m not in the mood to hear it.”
She nods cheerfully. “Will do, boss. Should I also always tell you if you have lipstick on your teeth?”
I nod back. “Of course.”
She smiles. “You do.”
“Son of a bitch!” I snap, as I remember how I had smiled widely at Alex. I rub furiously at my teeth with my finger as a toothbrush. Why, oh why, did I have to wear hot pink lipstick today of all freaking days?
I bare my teeth to her like a horse.
“Is it gone?”
She is nodding exactly at the same time as Alex walks back into my office. He stops short and stares at my horse-mouth, then laughs.
“Oh, good. I see your assistant told you about the lipstick. I wasn’t sure if I should or…” he trails off and I wish that I could melt into the floor.
Taylor slips back out, her skinny shoulders shaking, and I can hear her laughing at her desk. I make a mental note to kill her later. Right after I staple her fingertips to her desk.
I look at Alex. “I’m sorry. It’s been an unusually hectic morning. I forgot to check my lipstick in the car. And yes. To answer your question, any woman would be grateful if you told her that she had lipstick on her teeth. Or about anything else that she has forgotten to check.”
He nods and smiles. “Noted, then. From now on, if I notice something like that, I’ll tell you. I just never know what will offend someone.”
He’s such a warm person. It’s a little surprising since he holds such an important position. But I can tell that he likes to joke and laugh. And I love that kind of person. So combine that with his devastating good looks and I might be in serious trouble here.
“Oh, I don’t offend easily,” I promise him. “Seriously, you can treat me like one of the guys. Just pretend that I don’t have ovaries.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Um, okay. I’ll try that. What I was coming back for, though, was to see if you had a file on our new client, Malochec? I’d like to look through it.”
“Of course,” I tell him. I buzz Taylor and asked her to bring it in. She trots in a couple of minutes later and hands it to me and I pass it to Alex. Our fingers touch and I feel a jolt of imaginary electricity. He looks at me, seemingly oblivious.
“Perfect,” he says. “I’ll see you in a few.”
I gather a few things and then follow him out, making my way to the conference room. I am painfully aware of my raw crotch. Unfortunately, the tea bags’ effect doesn’t last that long. If I could limp without drawing attention to myself, I so would.
As it is, I walk stiffly in and take my normal seat.
Alex sits across from me and I grab a pen to make notes. I start the meeting as I usually do and allow the various managers to
speak to their various points, current projects and so on. I squirm uncomfortably in my seat for the duration, spreading my knees slightly to allow the cool air to brush over my girl.
I listen to Jack, Herb, Angela and Marla all speak. I ask if there are any concerns that I need to know about. I silently pray that there isn’t. Everyone shakes their heads. Like me, they just want to go about their business and end this meeting. Not for the same reason, though, I’m sure. So, I smile and turn to Alex.
“Would you like to end the meeting?”
And I’m surprised when I am speaking to his hunched back because he’s digging under the table. I pause and he comes back up with a pen in his hand, his cheeks slightly flushed, probably from being upside down.
“What?” he asks, seemingly flustered.
“I said, would you like to end the meeting?” I repeat politely.
“Oh. Um, no. I have a couple of questions for Herb and Angela, but I’ll come by your offices later in the day. Everyone have a good Thursday!”
Everyone grabs their coffee and their notebooks and makes a mad dash for the door. Except for Alex. He stays put and after everyone else has left, he turns to me. I don’t know what to make of his expression. It’s sort of amused, sort of confused, sort of shocked. I’m intrigued as I wait for him to speak.
“Remember when you said that if you ever forget something again, not to hesitate to tell you, because you wouldn’t get offended?”
I nod, confused. “Yes, since it was just this morning, I do remember that.”
He smiles. “Great. Because you seem to have forgotten your underwear today and I thought you might want to know.”
He picks up his coffee and strolls out of the conference room.
And I seriously want to effing die.
Chapter Ten
(Or: Embarrassment is a wine best served cold)
I storm as quickly as I can back to my office and pick up my phone. I type so fast and furious that it actually hurts my texting finger.
You. Me. Wine. My patio. Tonight.
I send this to Sara.
And then I add, You’re lucky that I haven’t hired a hit man.
I stay in my office as much as I can all day for two reasons.
1) Because my crotch hurts too much to walk; and