Chapter Five

 

She woke from a deep sleep, relaxed, but too tired to open her eyes. Yesterday had been a stressful day, but it was over. Nolan was out of her life.

Outside, the city began to wake. Trucks rumbled by and a horn blared. After the relative quiet of suburbia, it would take some time before she grew used to the noise, but she had always wanted to live in the city. Goodbye, stupid birds that screeched at an unreasonable hour.

No light filtered through her closed eyes. She must have remembered to shut the curtains.

Curtains?

Something tugged at her mind, begging for attention, but she batted it away and snuggled deeper into the pillow that smelled of cut grass, apple, and ambergris.

That’s not my detergent.

And the bed was far more comfortable than she would have thought, considering the mattress she could afford.

Mattress.

From behind her came an intake of breath and the shift of sheets, the sound of someone waking up.

The entirety of yesterday came crashing in on her.

She’d just made the biggest mistake of her life.

No, not the biggest, but quite possibly a huge one. He’s going to take one look at me and regret everything and that will break my heart.

She could feel him stretch, then he exhaled and snuggled closer, burying his head against her back. She could feel his breath on her skin, and her blood began to race. Help me. This man turns me on by breathing on me.

One deep breath to steel herself, then she turned over. He opened his eyes. “G’morning.” She could see hesitation, not revulsion, as if he worried what she was thinking.

“Good morning.” She traced his jawline, the stubble soft and rough at the same time. “How’d you sleep?”

“Like a log.” He put his hand on her hip, shifting her slightly closer. “I’m sorry I moved away from you. I’m not used to sleeping with anyone. You cuddle good.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” His words melted her fears. She sat up and looked for a clock. “What time is it?”

He reached over her and picked his phone up. “Almost eight.”

She groaned and buried her head in his chest, happy to be caught in his warm embrace and the rich smell of him. “I’ve got to go. They’re delivering my mattress this morning.”

“I was hoping to make you breakfast.” She could hear the disappointment. “Maybe talk you into staying for a while.”

“I’d love to, but I bitched the owner of Rest Assured out yesterday, and he swore that my mattress will be here this morning.” She nuzzled his neck.

He rubbed a hand over his stubble. “That blows.” He kissed her face. “Stay here. I’ll go get your clothes.” She watched as he dressed quickly and left, closing the door firmly behind him.

Matt appeared soon, a wry twist to his lips. “They’re still damp.” He held out her dress. “I can throw them back in.”

“Um, I should be okay.” She took the clothes.

“Just wear my shirt and shorts.”

“Are you sure?” She’d still have to put on her damp bra. She shrugged it on, grimacing at the clammy padding. “I’ll wash your things and get them back to you.”

“No worries.”

“I’m going to look super classy in sweats and heels.”

“Who knows? The look might catch on.”

“I’m going to call an Uber.” She waved her phone. “There are some in the area.”

“I’ll take you home.” His fatigue amplified his frown, and she could see how he’d be terrifying on the field.

“It took a while to find a parking space last night. I can’t imagine there are many more on a Saturday morning.” She scooted close and looked up at him through her lashes. “I like the idea of you warm in bed, even if I’m not here.”

“Oh, all right.” He smiled though he sighed. “Let me at least see that you get in the car.”

“It’ll be here in five minutes.” The little dot moved towards her location.

“Have you got everything?” A quick check confirmed that she did.

Matt followed her down the hall past now-silent rooms, and down the steps. Singing wafted through the vestibule, a pretty tune, but she couldn’t make out the words.

“Salé. He always sings when he cooks.” Matt shook his head, but grinned. “Sings off-key.”

“Mateo, you can bite me.” Salé’s laughter bubbled through the words. He appeared carrying a spatula and wearing a white chef’s apron embroidered with the word naughty. “What can I make for you and the pretty Ms. Jackson? Some of my panqueques?”

“I have to go. Thank you, though.”

“You kick her out without giving her breakfast? I thought I taught you better than that.” He brandished the spatula at Matt as he spoke.

Matt held up his hands. “I offered. I wanted her to stay all day.”

“So he was that bad, eh?” Salé gave her a wink.

“My mattress is being delivered this morning. Matt has been a compete gentleman. Don’t hurt him, Salé.” She liked the saucy Striker.

“For you, okay.” He waved. “I’ll see you around.” A statement, not a question.

I hope so. “See you around.”

Matt disarmed the alarm and hauled open the heavy door. Cool morning air reminded her that spring was only just beginning. “I should have given you a jacket.” Matt rubbed his bare arms.

“I’ll be fine. The car’s almost here. You’re out here without any shoes.” Matt looked as cold as she felt.

“Damn. Your picture. Wait here.” He turned and dashed up the steps to the house. In what seemed an impossibly short time he returned, waved, keys in hand, and headed up the street, his long legs stretching out and carrying to the end of the block in a flash.

He returned just as the silver sedan pulled up, and he didn’t even have the decency to sound out of breath as he held out the bag. “Made it.” Before she could stop him, he put the bag in the car.

“Text me when you get home.” He wrapped his arms around her waist.

“I can’t.”

“Can’t?”

“I don’t have your number. You don’t give out your digits, remember?” She smiled to soften the bitchiness.

“You’re right. Give me your phone. I can’t believe I almost let you get away without having your number.” She set up a contact and handed it over.

The driver honked the horn.

“I better go.” She stepped off the curb and reached for the handle.

“No, you don’t.” He grabbed the handle and opened it. “Your car, milady.”

“Thank you. For everything.”

“Anytime.” He leaned in and kissed her firmly, reminding her of their night together. “Text me.”

As they drove away, she glanced back. He still stood on the sidewalk, watching her go.

* * *

“May I help you?”

India turned and looked at the light-skinned man who smiled beatifically at her from the tips of his bleached curly hair to his beat-up Doc Martens, but her eyes returned to his T-shirt which had a unicorn with a rainbow-colored mane and tail. The text read, Nobody knows I’m gay.

“I love your shirt.”

“I think of it as camouflage.” Something about him soothed her frazzled nerves, despite the multiple piercings in his face.

She took a deep breath and exhaled. “I definitely need help.”

“What do you need?” He waved his hands at the store behind him.

“Uh…” That was the problem. This whole place overwhelmed the senses. Kitsch and class clashed everywhere. Pink and blue stuffed sperm hung from the ceiling, all looking quite pleased with themselves. Niches holding tawdry flavored lube and lingerie were juxtaposed with similar niches of top dollar, well-made toys and other accoutrements. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

“First time here?” His tone matched his sympathetic look.

“Well, obviously.” She grimaced, then the words tumbled out. “You see, I’m very recently divorced, and I’ve started dating -- well, I’m not sure we’re dating. It’s complicated -- and the whole scene is so foreign to me. Everyone is so upfront about sex. It’s so unlike how it used to be, and that’s a good thing, but I’m having a hard time wrapping my brain around it, and anyway, I’m going to be seeing him tonight, and we’ll possibly -- no, make that probably -- end up in bed -- and I thought I should be responsible, you know? So, I went to the local drugstore, but the man in charge of the case wanted me to hurry up and pick something, and how can I do that when there’s so many kinds? He harrumphed at me until I finally made a choice, then he told me how nice I was to buy them for my son. My. Son. Do I look like I could have a son old enough to have sex? No, don’t answer that. Today has been rough enough.”

He blinked at her a moment, probably trying to process her torrent of words, then he reached out, took her hand, and patted it. “Oh love, that’s terrible. Come with Maso. I’ll sort you out. The good stuff is back here. Watch your step.” He led her towards a section of the store separated from the rest by a portcullis and a milky stream that she had to jump over. She did not want to know what that was made of.

“Talk to me. Tell me about your man. What’s he like?”

She couldn’t see why he needed the information, but didn’t mind talking about Matt. “He’s a…” She couldn’t be specific. The players were known around the city. “He’s the athletic type.”

“So, he’s fit?”

“Very.”

“Okay, tell me more.”

“He’s tall. Just over six foot four, to be exact.” She’d looked it up that morning and found it both fortunate and disquieting that such information was readily available.

“Ohh, you got yourself a tall one.” He held up his hands, palms out, fingers splayed. “Big hands.”

Very big.” She could feel the color rise in her cheeks.

Maso waved dismissively. “Ain’t nothin’ to be embarrassed about, you lucky thing. What you need is over here. We specialize in products for big and tall men.”

He spent the next twenty minutes asking questions and making suggestions. In the end, she chose a variety pack, though she couldn’t imagine ever using the mango flavored condom. “And there’s a few different sizes in there, just in case things don’t work out with Mr. Big Hands. A woman like you shouldn’t tie herself to one man anyway. Play the field a bit.”

“Play the field? That implies I have a clue which sport I’m playing.”

His laughter was musical and made heads turn. “Oh honey.” Again, he took her hand and pulled her aside. “I think you’re going to be just fine once you get your bearings.” He dug a card out of his back pocket. “I have a friend who works at Passion Play across town. When you’re ready for some big girl games, go see Lisa, and bring Mr. Big Hands. They offer beginner classes, but be sure he knows what he’s getting into. Kink isn’t for everyone.”

It wasn’t lost on her that Maso thought kink was right for her, and that made her stand a little taller. “I doubt he needs classes.”

“Everyone needs classes.” He winked. “And they offer advanced ones, too.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep it mind. It’s early days yet.” She took the garish bag. No discretion here. “And thank you for all your help.”

“Enjoy yourself, love.” He beamed and waved her out the door.

The sidewalk was jammed with people out enjoying the sun, so many people that she couldn’t cross the street before the light switched.

While waiting for the next signal, she let her mind wander to last night. She hadn’t expected a call so soon and was surprised to find her heart race when she saw his name on her caller ID.

She’d snatched her phone off the table and tried to sound nonchalant. “Hey, how are you?”

His reply was drowned out by heavy bass and feedback signaling too-loud music. Maybe he butt-dialed me? But then the music faded, and there was the distinct scrape and swish of a glass deck door.

“Sorry about that.” She could hear him switch ears. “I didn’t expect the music to be so loud. How are you? How is the moving?”

“I’m fine. The mattress arrived not long after I did.” She propped her feet on the coffee table after pulling the armchair closer. “I spent most of today unpacking and arranging. How was your day? Did you have practice?”

“No, not until Monday. I just bummed about. Did some laundry and caught up on my sleep. I was terribly tired for some reason.” The suggestive tinge to his voice gave her pleasant shivers.

“That’s my plan for tonight, laundry and sleep.” A scream from the movie she was watching tore through air. Why are screams always so much louder than the rest of the movie? “Oops. That was loud.” She turned down the volume.

“That doesn’t sound like laundry.” She could hear laughter in his voice.

“I’m watching an old black and white film while I fold clothes. Your things are done.”

“I’d rather take them off you personally. Which film are you watching?”

It was better if she focused on the second half of his statement. “The Tingler. It’s campy and not scary at all. I frequently spend my Saturday nights with films like this.”

“Is that the one with the bug thing that appears when people are scared?”

“That’s the one.”

“I love old films like that.” The music grew loud, punctuated by whistles and cheers -- the kind of noise made by a rowdy group of young men on a Saturday night -- then quieted again. Someone must have gone through the sliding glass door because she recognized the sound one made. “I’d much rather be watching that movie.”

“I don’t know. It sounds like a serious party.”

“I had to attend. It’s Eddie Rausch’s stag party. The entire team was invited.”

Her brain helpfully reminded her that stag party meant a bachelor party. “Thirty men, give or take, getting drunk and generally running amok. What could go wrong?”

“Too much. So, the reason I called --” The music grew loud, and someone shouted something garbled. “Hang on, India. Look mate, if you’re interrupting me to tell me about that manky stripper --” Again, she could hear a voice, but not what was said. Matt sighed. “All right. Give me a minute. Sorry about that. The reason I called is, I was wondering if you’d like to go out tomorrow night? I know it’s Sunday, and we both work on Monday, but we could go early.”

“I’d love to. When? Where?”

“I’m thinking bowling around five.”

“Bowling?”

“Don’t you like bowling?”

“No, bowling is fine. I just didn’t expect it. I haven’t been in years.”

“I’m terrible, myself. This place has a great restaurant. I know that sounds impossible, but it does.”

“Sounds like a great date. Five is perfect.” She really didn’t care as long as he was there.

Music blared again. “I’ll be there in a minute.” Talking in the background. “That’s not what your sister said.” Fortunately, India could tell that statement was not meant for her. He groaned. “I’ve got to go.”

“I understand.”

He lowered his voice, and she could hear his sexy growl. “I’d much rather get a lap dance from you.”

Jealousy flared, taking her breath away. She shoved it aside and matched his tone. “Come on over. I’ll give you one.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Maybe tomorrow, then. You go before they drag you in.”

* * *

The beep of a crossing signal brought her back to the sunny Sunday afternoon. She hurried across the street. She had just enough time to stop by the store for eggs and milk, just in case she needed to whip up a quick breakfast tomorrow.