Chapter 7
TOMáS
If there’s one thing I’ve grown accustomed to over the years, aside from learning how to function on minimal sleep with an unhealthy reliance on caffeine, it’s how to persevere despite how I’m feeling.
Every day there’s a list of demands needing my immediate attention, and every day, no matter what, I push through and show up, often denying myself in the process.
But tonight, for the first time in what has felt like forever, I was able to let loose and enjoy myself, courtesy of this beautiful stranger that I wish I didn’t have to part ways with.
An awkwardness interjects itself in the room as we situate ourselves with her fixing her dress, and me buckling my belt into place.
As I actively ignore my phone as it chimes with yet another email notification, I’m tempted to break her rule by asking for her number, but instead, nerves get the best of me and I stuff my phone into my pocket, just as it sounds once more.
“Someone waiting for you?”
“Multiple someones.”
Her brows rise and then it dawns on me how that sounds.
“It’s work, I promise. I’m not married… or with anyone for that matter.”
“You sure about that?” Her question lingers in the air and the longer the pause beats between us, the more it feels more like a challenge begging me to grab hold of the bait.
“I’m not sure I’m following.”
“You’re married all right.”
I wiggle my vacant ring finger to prove her wrong.
Squinting, she inspects it. “Oh, no, I got that part. I meant that you may be single but if that’s your work phone, I think it’s safe to say you’re married to work. Am I right?”
I never thought of it like that. I’m dedicated to my work, sure.
And I’m grateful for what it’s provided me.
A very comfortable life, a way to provide my mom the financial stability and security she deserves by taking on her medical expenses since her health has been on the decline for years.
I’ve been able to not only invest and put away for retirement but to also give back —since my dad instilled in me at a young age the importance of being charitable.
It’s given me so much, but I’d be lying if I said that I don’t feel indebted to what I do.
Stuck. None of which I’d associate with actual marriage, but the nuance of what she’s saying isn’t lost on me.
“I work a lot, but no, I’m not married to my job.”
“You could’ve fooled me with the way your phone has been going off.”
“Yeah, because I was tied up,” I remind her with a wink.
She grins, rather mischievously at that. “Tied? More like buried in something, but tomato tomahto.”
I playfully shrug. “I’m not complaining.”
“Good. Me neither.”
Leaving it at that, we make our way back through the crowded bar, walking through the doors, and onto the equally crowded Manhattan street.
It’s surprisingly chilly out tonight for it being early summer and when I see her teeth chattering, and goosebumps pebbling her skin, instinct kicks in and I take off my suit jacket to drape over her shoulders.
Or at least, that’s what I’d intended to do until her blue eyes double in size, looking at me as if I’m about to stab her.
“What are you doing?” She gasps.
“You seem cold, I was just going to lend you my suit jacket.”
Exasperated, a sigh comes barreling out of her mouth.
“What? Did I do something wrong?”
“No. Are you kidding? You haven’t done a damn thing wrong. That’s the problem.”
“I’m not following,” I admit.
Another sigh slips through her lips, and instead of responding, she leaves me hanging to grab her phone.
“Trust me, you aren’t the problem here. I am.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
She stares at her phone screen. “Well, believe it. I’d elaborate but my Uber is about to pull up, so that doesn’t give us enough time for me to divulge all my issues. Sad, I know.”
Sure enough, her Uber arrives and I don’t know what to say. I stand still, speechless, trying to think of something, and thankfully my brain decides to turn on just as she goes to take off my jacket.
“Leave it.”
She bursts out laughing. “Yeah, okay. Because it’s customary after you break a woman’s orgasm record to gift her an article of clothing that cost more than most people’s rent.”
Pride bursts at my chest. “Record, huh?”
She rolls her eyes, but it does little to distract from her blushing. “In a row. Yes, but that’s beside the point.”
Even though I don’t want the night to end, I walk ahead of her, opening the door so she can slide into the back seat.
Now all there’s sadly left to do is say goodnight – and a much needed thank you – before closing the door and parting ways.
But as fate would have it, I don’t have to just yet.
The driver turns around apologetically, saying that they need run inside the convenience store to get diapers for their baby.
I reassure them that it’s okay and to take their time. I’d never not be understanding to someone having to take care of their family, especially not when it gives me some more time with her.
“Thank you,” she says.
“You’re more than welcome,” I respond, taking advantage of how she’s sitting with her legs facing the open door, parted just enough that I have a view of her noticeably damp panties.
Logic abandons me as my knees bend, and land on the asphalt.
“Armani,” she moans. “What are you doing?”
“You’re not wearing a garter,” I state the obvious, feeding into this unexpected faux-marital foreplay we’ve found ourselves in this evening.
“No shit, Sherlock, I’m not wearing a wedding dress either.”
“I realize that, but I guess this is the next best thing.”
Carefully, I thread my hands beneath her dress, keeping my eyes on hers. “Tell me to stop.”
She remains still. Unblinking. Saying nothing.
Taking that as the invitation I need, I shimmy her panties down until they reach her knees. Barring my teeth to her skin, I fight the urge to dip my tongue inside of her again as I bite onto the fabric, pulling it until they make their slow descent to her feet and are off and in my possession.
“I don’t know what that was, but consider it added to my kink list,” she jokes, all breathy sounding.
Yeah, mine too.
I pocket my memento as I rise to my feet. Perfect timing, I see the driver in the corner of my eye walking through the convenience store doors and out onto the sidewalk.
“Since you said no names.”
Her tongue swipes at her lips. “That’s fair.”
“One more thing.” I reach my hand forward until it settles in the inner pocket. Grabbing the pen that I keep in it, I ask for her palm. She gives it to me, and I write my number down.
“We said no names,” she reminds me.
“I know.”
She peers down at her hand. “Or numbers.”
“I remember, but in the event that you change your mind, you’ll have a number to reach me.”
“Is this your work phone you ignore?”
“No. My personal. And for the record, you’re the only person I’ve ever ignored my work phone for.”
She pouts as the driver walks on the crosswalk heading toward the car. “Aren’t I special.”
“Very,” I reassure her, with my hand on the car door getting ready to shut it.
“Wait!” she shouts.
“Yes?” Hoping the optimistic shift in my voice isn’t too obvious.
“No numbers or names doesn’t mean no goodbye kiss.”
I want nothing more than to kiss her again, but I’m afraid if I do, I’ll only further open this can of worms and I’ll no longer be able to contain them.
“You have my number.” Please, call it.
“I do, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to call,” she points out the obvious, mildly crushing me as she does.
“True, but I have this thing with goodbyes. I’ve said too many of them in my life. I’d rather be corny and say, ‘Until next time,’ and you know, leave it up to fate.”
“I see. I’m not sure I believe in that.”
“Fate?” I can’t help but sound surprised.
“Yes.” She swallows; a bitter look crosses her face.
“Well, in the event that you cave and call me, we’re doing this the right way.”
“Which is?”
“Letting me take you out on a date before coming on my tongue, again.”
She blushes, waving the hand that I wrote my number on. “Good night, Mr. Armani.”
That wasn’t the yes that I was hoping for, but it wasn’t a no either.
I’ll take it.
“Good night, Mrs. Armani. I look forward to you changing your mind.”
“I guess that’s up to fate then, huh?”
I hope so.