19. Hailey
Today is the day of doing things I never do.
I looked a man in the eyes as I orgasmed. I hugged that man, held him until the feeling left my fingertips, and then my arms, and then my legs, and then I held him some more. I canceled all my afternoon appointments. And now I am riding in my elevator with said man because I invited him up to my place because I couldn’t stand the thought of him going back home to that big, beautiful, empty house just yet.
Who the fuck am I?
The elevator stops on my floor, and we awkwardly shuffle off. Or maybe it’s just me. “I’ve never had anyone up before,” I blurt like a weirdo. “A man,” I clarify while trying to steady my quaking hand to put the key into the lock.
His hand settles over mine. It’s warm and steady. “I don’t have to come in if you’ve changed your mind.”
I meet his red-rimmed eyes. Beyond that barest hint, you wouldn’t know the man had bawled his heart out just an hour ago.
I’m sure my eyes are puffy, and my cheeks are splotched.
“I haven’t.”
One corner of his mouth tips in a hint of a smile. He helps me insert the key and removes his hand. “You were the first woman in mine,” he adds.
Am I even still alive?
Everything in the last several hours has been an out-of-body experience. Like a dream wrapped into a nightmare, then twisted round and round, so that one bleeds into the other. Back and forth. High and low. Sweetness and sorrow.
I nod and turn the key.
The moment I open the door, Plinko’s incessant meows demand my attention. “Oh.” Shit. I’d forgotten about the little guy in respect to Arlo’s aversion to touch. Add that to the trauma he’d just spilled about his own pet, and I look at him in a panic.
“It’s okay,” he assures. “I didn’t forget that you have a cat.”
“Oh.” Eloquent as ever. I step inside and flip on the main light switch. The hallway sconces and the lamps in all the rooms spark to life, filling the space with an amber glow.
Plinko stares up at me expectantly. His tattered ears are uneven, and his smoke-gray fur flies every which way.
I scoop up Mr. Cutie, his new nickname, and usher this beautifully haunted man toward the living room. “I’m going to give him some dinner. Speaking of, my favorite takeout menus are in the credenza. First drawer. Have a peek, and we can arm wrestle over our top picks when I finish.” I turn toward the kitchen but turn back. “Something to drink? I have red or white wine, French bourbon, vodka, water.”
“Water, please.”
“Ice, no ice?”
Again, the corner of his mouth tips up. “No ice.”
My smile is big and dumb. I nod and scurry down the singular hallway in my home before I make a bigger fool of myself. I set my coat and purse on the guest room bed. It’s the first doorway I pass. Also, its closets house all my overcoats and bags.
I pass my bedroom door and the bathroom, along with all the closets that line the corridor.
Plinko meows as I plop him onto his corner of the kitchen counter and refill his bowls. I whisper to him sweetly while I wash my hands and then fill two glasses with filtered water.
When I get into the living room, Arlo Judge stands in my favorite spot, watching the city tick by.
“You have an amazing view.”
“It’s even better during the day. I have my aunt’s pussy to thank for it.”
That jerks his gaze around. His lips are pressed into a line like he doesn’t quite know what to say.
It’s almost like I’m challenging him by saying the craziest shit. Like if I can get him to run, then I’ll be okay. Not too invested. Not too much lost.
I don’t want him to leave, though.
“It was a gift from one of her former lovers. When she was gifted another even nicer apartment in this same building, she signed this one over to me.” I hand him his glass and join him at the window, looking down at the landscape of lights. “Because of that kindness and a hefty client list, I was able to buy my office.”
“You two are very close.”
“As close as I’ll let her be.” I smile at him.
“Want to unburden your soul?”
“Not today. One horror story is enough. Though, yours takes the cake.”
“It’s not a contest.”
“Not one anyone hopes to compete in, for sure.” I turn toward him and lean my shoulder against the window frame. “You, Mr. Judge, are the strongest person I’ve ever met.”
Way stronger than me.
“Arlo,” he corrects.
“Arlo.” I sip my water to keep my new addiction to smiling in check. “What’s your top pick?”
“I went ahead and ordered Nobu. Lobster shittaki salad with spicy lemon dressing and toro tamari truffles for you. Spinach salad with shrimp and wagyu tataki with ponzu for me. And shishito peppers with den miso to share. It should be here in thirty minutes since we beat the rush.”
Just like that, I’m in love.
Jokingly, of course. But just barely joking.
My free hand goes to my hip. My mouth waters. “How did you know my order and execute it perfectly?”
“It was the most worn menu and had tick marks by the items you favor.”
“It could have been anyone’s order.”
“But you don’t have just anyone in your apartment, and your aunt strikes me as an out-to-dinner kind of woman.”
“You’re scary smart.”
He gives a firm nod. “Good education. It was my parents’ only stipulation. The thing that saved my life. Money for my education, boarding school through college, was put into a trust.”
“I know plenty of highly educated people who are dumber than dicks on priests.”
His hands bracket my face. He lifts my chin and stares at my lips. “The things that come out of your mouth. I could never imagine them. Every time I think I know what you might say, you surprise me.”
I bite my lower lip. “I’m sorry?” I shrug. “I don’t tend to pussyfoot around things. Sometimes I can be crass. Even callous.”
“You surprise me in the best fucking way because you’re you, no matter what. And no part of you is heartless, no matter how much you might want it to be true.”
His face lowers to mine, and my heart catapults through my body.
The first touch of his lips against mine is a graze. It’s experimental and hot. It leaves me panting and desperate for something I’ve never wanted. I hold still and keep my eyes shut, willing him back. He returns with a sweet peck on my lower lip, the one I’d been biting. He matches it to the upper, then drags his lips against my mouth.
It’s the sweetest, simplest, most perfect experience.
Again and again, he teases my lips, mapping every crest and edge, dip and swell with his own.
I’ve never been high, but I bet this is what it feels like. My brain is muddled. Only my sensory receptors are functioning. The world stills around us. I’m drowning in euphoria. His hands and lips are my anchor. With him, I’m tethered to the earth, while I soar among the stars.
He steps closer, and his heat seeps through my front. His tongue glides over my lips and then slips between them. My tongue flits out to brush against his for the barest of erotic seconds before retreating, scared I’ll frighten him again.
“Mmm.” His sexy sound vibrates my lips. It bolsters me like praise.
My tongue chases his for a second. Then his attacks, coiling around mine and sucking it into submission. I’m suddenly aware that I’m sans panties and that just a while ago, his tongue was between my legs.
The sound that pours out of my mouth into his is feral.
One of his hands leaves my face, and I think I’ve gone too far until he takes my hand and guides it to his chest.
Oh my God.
Better yet, oh God, Arlo.
He’s hot and solid under my touch. His heartbeat slams against my fingers, and it’s a wonder either of us is still upright because our hearts are literally racing to out-drum one another’s.
A noise blares between us. We jump apart as though caught with our hands in the cookie jar. Our chests are heaving. His lips are red and swollen. I’m sure my skin is red all over, matching my hair.
“Shit.” His laugh is hoarse, and his eyes sparkle. “Sorry. I forgot it was on ring.” He pulls a phone from his pocket and assesses the screen. “Sorry again. I need to?—”
“No problem. Go ahead.” I press my fingertips to my lips as he presses the phone to his ear and studies me.
I swear my cheeks hurt from smiling, and I feel like a teenager, or what a teenager, a normal one, should have felt. I’m giggly, and my belly skips.
“Hey, Karris.” He’s quiet for a minute as his best friend speaks. “Yes, I blew off the Parks and Myers meeting. Yes, I have a better excuse than watching guys drag trees through my house, not that it’s any of your business.” His lips pull into a smile. “No, I don’t remember appointing you boss of me.”
I’m not just eavesdropping, but blatantly and attentively listening. I slide away and lower myself to the sofa with wobbly knees.
“I’m sure they can lock and close the door behind them.”
My buzzer screams, releasing me from my failed attempt at not prying. I rush to it and hit the intercom. “Yes?”
“Delivery for Judge from Nobu, Apartment 804,” a young man with a thick Boston accent hollers.
“Thank you.” I buzz him up and wait by the door. I’m glad no one can see me because my feet and hands refuse to be still. My gaze swings left and right, looking for Plinko, but Mr. Cutie is nowhere to be seen. I run to my purse for a tip, hurry back to the door, and open it to wait.
“No,” Arlo says definitively. There’s a pause. Then he adds, “I’m not being anti-social. I’m on a date.”
My smile is big and stupid, and my face almost refuses to contain it.
“Yes, with an actual human. An amazing, vibrant, living human.”
I cover my mouth to keep from squealing.
Truly, who the fuck am I?
The elevator dings, and a paper bag with awesome handles is presented. There’s more conversation in the living room, but I can’t hear it. I thank the guy and offer him a tip, but, of course, Arlo has already taken care of it. I bounce into the room with the bag and freeze.
Plinko is winding his way in figure-eight fashion around Arlo’s legs.
“He must have snuck in here when we were…distracted.” I set the bag on the credenza, but Arlo holds up his hand. His call must have ended, and I’m a little sad I didn’t hear any more.
“It’s okay. I think.” He grins at me. “His expression says he’s going to eat my face off, but his body language is saying pretty much the opposite.”
I cross my arms and watch them. “What’s the opposite of eating your face off?”
“What we were doing earlier.” He winks at me.
I scurry to the bag, almost giggling as I carry it to the small table.
While I set everything up, Plinko whirls incessantly about his legs. Slowly, Arlo bends and offers his hand to my grizzly cat. Mr. Cutie belts a meow, then rubs himself on the proffered hand for several strokes. Just as quickly as he ambushed, he wanders off to his window seat as if nothing happened.
“That’s a stamp of approval if I’ve ever seen one.” I beckon him to follow me down the hallway. “He growled at Astor the first three times she was over, and my aunt had to bribe him with treats.” I wave him toward the bathroom. “Fresh towels are under the sink. Feel free to ignore my bras.” Six of them are hanging to dry across the top of the shower. “Or not.”
His brows rise. “Impossible, but I’ll do my best to be a gentleman.”
“Suit yourself.” I leave him, hurry to the kitchen to wash my hands, and fill a small pitcher with fresh water, return to the living room, and set it to the side as Arlo returns. “I don’t have a fancy dining room.” I shrug.
“I never use the one I have.” Arlo pulls out my chair, and I sit, still with no panties on.
“Where do you usually eat?”
He sits across from me, and I’m struck by the juxtaposition of the two of us in my space even though he had his tongue down my throat a few minutes ago. I’m not small, but next to him, I feel it. He feels grand in my little home. He’s almost a stranger, and at the same time, someone I feel incredibly close to.
“Over the stove.” His big fingers snatch a packet of chopsticks. He opens them and offers them to me with a string of words I don’t understand. Then he bows his head and says one word I recognize. “Itadakimasu.”
The man speaks Japanese.
“Itadakimasu.” I offer a palms together bow of my own, and then we each take a bite.
It’s delicious, but not nearly as good as his freaking mouth was. I try to distract myself. “You cook?”
“Every other night or so. I usually make enough to eat leftovers the next day or two, if it’s a busy week.” He shoves a healthy bite into his mouth, chews, and then swallows. I watch his throat work. “It’s soothing.”
“It stresses me out.” I shrug. “Trying to get all the components ready at the same time. Not burning things.”
“Burning things is part of the process. Try. Fail. Try again.”
“Once again, you don’t strike me as the failing type.”
“I fail daily, Siren. I just don’t let it stop me.”
We eat in amiable quiet for a minute, maybe two. Our gazes constantly assess each other.
“Was everything okay with your call?”
“Just Karris checking in, inviting me for drinks.”
Stupidly, my chest caves. “I don’t mean to keep you.”
“I’d prefer you did.” He takes a heavy gulp from his glass, then sets it down while I try not to choke on my tamari truffle. “You’re much prettier to look at and more interesting to talk to.”
Heat flushes my cheeks.
What am I doing? Flirting? Simpering?
A lump forms in my throat. I swallow it. “Why did you donate…so much money to The Veterans Residence of Long Island in Matt’s name?”
“How do you know it was me?” He stuffs his mouth so he can’t answer whatever retort I might give.
“The notes. The donation and the response to my request to remove my blindfold.”
Arlo gulps down the large bite and then takes a drink. He settles back in his seat with his glass. His gaze roves over me as if sizing me up. “I made the donation. And I’ll tell you why if you tell me something about you that no one knows.”
My mouth moves, but he stops me with a twitch of his chin. He points his glass at me. “To be clear, you can’t use the excuse that I’m your patient anymore. You’ve never let your patients suck your clit until you come.”
“To be clear.” I smile. “I didn’t come when your mouth was on my clit, but I would have.” I pinch a piece of lobster with my chopsticks.
“Keep talking about it, and you will.”
My thighs clench. I drop the lobster, abandon my utensils, and sit forward. I unbutton the top three buttons on the slim-fitting blouse and spread it wide. The sinister eyes of my dragon stare across the table at Arlo Judge.
“Each of my tattoos has meaning. No one knows what they are except me. Not my aunt, not Astor, not my tattoo artist. They’re for me. No one else. It’s why I don’t show them often. People ask incessantly. When I don’t answer, they take it on as a mantle, a new challenge. Even those closest to me. But you’ve never asked. Not in the room at Crave and not after, when you’d figured out who I was.”
“If you want me to know, you’ll tell me. If you don’t, you won’t. And either is okay.”
“Which is why I want you to know.” I look down at my oldest friend. “The dragon was my first tattoo. Smokey.” I smile at his name. “The artist argued with me for days, trying to convince me to start with something smaller, something prettier, something befitting of a girl like me. Needless to say, I found a new artist who worked this monster into my chest for ten hours straight.”
Arlo sits across from me, his expression nothing short of enraptured in the mundane words I say. His food is forgotten. My lower lip wobbles. He sets his glass aside.
“I got my dragon to protect my heart against any idiot who would try to take it or try to break it.”
“And has he done his job?”
“Relentlessly.” I button him up because, for the first time, he wavers.
“Matt didn’t have your heart?”
“No.” I chew the inside of my cheek. “I’ve wondered if I’d loved him if it would have saved him, but that’s not fair to me.”
“He loved you,” Arlo says as a matter of fact, no intonation, no accusation.
“As you said, Celeste once fancied herself in love with you. Matt did with me.” I play with the edge of the table, spreading a droplet of water from a dot into a line. “He knew nothing about me. He liked how I looked from the outside, from the little piece of me that I let clients see. He liked that I listened to his problems and offered solutions. That was it. I cared for him, but never more than I should have.”
“Your simple care is more than most people’s love.”
Astor had said something similar. Why does it mean more coming from him?
I grab my glass and guzzle half of it. “I’ve given. Now, answer my question.”
“I donated because I knew he meant something to you, and you mean something to me.” He offers a palm up. “Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“Nothing more? That’s a whole damn lot, Arlo.” I stand and walk to the window. My heart shakes inside my fucking chest. Tears prick my eyes. My dragon is failing me.
I like this man and genuinely want to spend time with him, digging until I’ve discovered his every thought and understood his every feeling, yet he’s unavailable to me. And maybe that’s why I like him so much. Because I know this is doomed before it’s even begun.
We both have traumatic baggage creating a barrier between us, and he has…
“What about your woman, the one you came to therapy for? Is she so easily cast aside?”
“She’s everything, Hailey.”
I snap to face him. He’s standing by the table still as death. “Then why?—”
Arlo moves with speed and purpose I’ve never seen, stalking forward until my back hits the cold glass. It seeps through the silk of my blouse. “Haven't you figured it out by now?”