Fun Together, page 19
“Put that leg under now and repeat on the other leg. Walk me through what you’re doing. This is a good way for me to see if you can articulate your processes to others.”
“First, I’m squirting more body wash into my hand and rubbing my hands together until they’re slick and slippery. Next, I’m slowly rubbing the soap up my leg, really focusing on my thigh.” The other night, that seemed to be a place he liked to touch, so I’m hoping he’ll like that I’m mentioning it. “In circular motions, I’m running my hand up inside my inner thigh, higher and higher, and—”
“Stop. No higher.”
“But that’s normally the next part of my routine.” I whine.
“You have to answer another question first.” I can practically hear the smile in his voice. Oh, this is fun.
I sigh overdramatically. “Fine.”
“After our kiss on the couch, did you think about it?”
I wasn’t expecting this question, but I answer it without thinking. “Yes, with some embellishments. Might have pulled out the massager a time or two.”
He laughs and it echoes through the bathroom. It’s the best sound in the world, starting with a low rumble I feel right down to the core of me, before it erupts into this spark of energy that’s so Eli, it’s the only way I know how to describe it.
“I like making you laugh,” I say. “Because you’re always the one making me laugh.”
“Making you laugh is my favorite thing. What did you imagine, when you thought about it?”
“You touching me.”
“Where do I touch you?”
“You pull the front of my dress down and palm my breasts in your hands.”
“Do kiss them? Lick them?”
“Yes.”
“While I’m doing that, do I pull the bottom of your dress up until I can touch between your legs?”
I lay my head back, finally rubbing my fingertips over my clit. “Yes.”
“Can I slide a finger inside to feel how wet you are for me?”
“Please,” I moan, pretending the middle finger I glide inside myself is his. “Are you touching yourself now?”
“Would you like me to?”
“Yes, I want us both to do it. Together.”
“I’d like that, too. You can ask me questions now. Keep fingering yourself.”
I take a ragged breath, trying to gain composure. “Right, so. Um, can you walk through what a ‘day in the life’ is like? Or, how a night would be . . . like . . . how things would continue tonight?” I can barely form a coherent thought, much less sentence, right now.
But he doesn’t miss a beat. “Next, I’d insert another finger inside you and stroke myself with my other hand using the same rhythm.”
The thought of that is almost enough to make me come. “That feels so good.”
“Don’t let yourself come yet. The interview isn’t over.”
“How long until the interview is over?”
He chuckles. “Until I say it is. Ask me another question. And quicken the motion of your hand.”
“Why do you want to have sex with me?”
His answer is quick and without hesitation. “Because you’re interesting and beautiful and funny. Because I want to know you like that. Because I want to make you come five million times.”
I do a weird combination of a moan and a laugh. “Wow, that’s a pretty lofty goal,” I say.
“I think I could do it,” he gloats.
I’m beginning to think so, myself. “That’s all the questions I have for you.”
“Thank you for your time today, Faye. You’ve been a great interview.” He pauses, and I think he’s starting to lose his composure now, too. “I think it would be very hard for me to find another candidate as talented as you.”
“I wish I was with you. Touching you. Tasting you.”
“Fuck, me too,” he groans.
I let the sounds of our panting fill the silence. “Are you close?” I seriously don’t think I can hold out any longer.
“Yes, let me hear you come for me first, then I will, too.”
The sounds I am making and the sounds I hear from him are downright obscene, all wet splashes, gasps, and moaning. A few more pumps of my fingers and I come, exhaling his name in the process. It’s not long before I hear him do the same.
Neither of us say anything, both trying to recover. After a few seconds he asks, “You alive over there?”
“Mm-hmm, think so.”
“So did I get the job?” he asks with a chuckle.
I laugh. “When can you start?”
28
Eli
I’m waiting in the stairwell for Faye.
It’s the only place I could think of in the office where we can have some semblance of privacy, and neither of us have time to trek down to the duck pond. I didn’t plan for the interview to take the direction it did, so I wanted to talk to her about last night.
She opens the door and steps inside—and it’s hits me again, just how bad I have it for her. She’s wearing a blue dress with buttons that run down the front, and all I can think about now is the fantasy we conjured up last night. I could slowly undo all those buttons. I could hold her up against the wall and kiss her and touch her in all the ways we fantasized.
“Hey,” she says, shyly looking up at me through thick lashes.
I smile. “Hey.”
“How are you?” she asks with a nervous laugh.
“I’m great. How are you?”
She crosses her arms. “I can’t complain.”
“Your hair is down,” I say.
She reaches up and moves her hair to one side over her right shoulder, a slight grin on her face. Her eyes shine. “Yeah, I just felt like wearing it down today.”
I love when she flirts with me. Those moments are few and far between, and I catch them like a greedy dragon to hoard in my lair forever. “You look pretty today.”
She blushes and says, “Thank you.”
“I just wanted to see you. Make sure we’re good after last night. And to say that we can do a real practice interview sometime this week . . . without the other stuff.”
She chews on her bottom lip. “Yeah, we’re good. And that sounds good.”
“Did you like what we did?” I have to know she liked it. I know I did, but I don’t want her to be questioning anything. I hope she enjoyed it as much as I did.
She looks up at me and grins. “It was fun.”
I wrap my arms around her waist, unable to keep from touching her. “I’d like to have more fun, if you’re interested.”
“I’m interested,” she says.
“Come with me to my parents’ anniversary party next weekend.”
I meant to ask her to come over for dinner and swimming tomorrow night since I’m still dog-sitting, but this came out instead.
She furrows her brow. “Um, not exactly my idea of fun.”
“Why not?” I move her hair so that her shoulder is exposed.
“Would I be, like, your date?”
I press my lips against her shoulder. “You’d be my guest.”
She rolls her eyes. “Semantics.”
“You’ll like my family.” And my family will like her. I’m starting to think I know why I’ve never brought anyone home to meet them.
It’s because anyone else has never been Faye.
“I don’t do well in those situations.”
I caress the column of her neck, wanting to follow that pale blue vein snaking down under her jaw with my mouth. “Please?”
“You’re not playing fair. I’d do almost anything you say right now if you keep doing that.” She moves her head to the side, like she wants me to continue.
“So, you’ll come with me then?”
Her eyes are almost shut, and her skin is hot beneath my fingertips. I need her so badly. “I didn’t say that.”
“Let’s play a game. If I win, you come with me to the party.”
“And if I win?”
I slide my fingers into her hair and massage the base of her scalp. “You won’t win.”
“What’s the game?”
Great question. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Can we kiss while I figure it out?”
She gives me playful shove and then rests her hands against my waist. “We can’t kiss in here. What if someone sees us?”
She’s right. Probably wouldn’t be a good idea to get caught making out with a coworker on company time. “I just can’t wait to kiss you again.”
I feel her fingers hook inside the waistband of my pants. “Later,” she says, with a new type of smile that I seem to have unlocked. A naughty smile. But why wait until later to be naughty?
“Here’s the game. Go to the bathroom right now and take your underwear off. Hide it somewhere in the office where only I would find it. If I find it, you’re my date.”
“You are bad! When did you become such a deviant?”
“You haven’t said you won’t do it,” I challenge.
“You can’t be serious about this. What if someone else in the office finds them?”
“Then it’s their lucky day.” We laugh together.
“We’re at work. You work in HR for Christ’s sake!”
“If you’re too chicken, then forget it.”
We stare at each other for a couple of seconds, and I think she might actually be considering this. “How much time will you have to find them?” she asks.
My pulse quickens. Is she really going to do it? “Let’s say three hours?”
“Two,” she says.
“Two and a half,” I counter.
“Fine. Shake on it?” She holds her hand out.
“Kiss on it.” I grab her hand and bring her wrist up to my mouth and kiss it the way I want to kiss all over her body. I watch her watch me. I kiss her palm, and then the tips of each finger. “Just let me know when you’re done.”
It was way too easy to find them. So easy, I wonder if she placed them where she did because she knew it would be a no-brainer for me.
“Good update, Katie. Sounds like you’ve got some good leads. Eli, how are things going? Eli?”
Melissa’s question snaps me out of my daydream, and I force myself to be present for our weekly team meeting. We’ve been going around giving updates on current projects and I guess I missed that it’s my turn.
“Sorry about that, didn’t sleep well last night.” Because I was fantasizing about my best friend’s ex-girlfriend masturbating in the bath, as one does. In fact, funny story. I have her underwear in my pocket right now.
The first place I checked was behind the espresso machine, which was a stupid place to check because Faye would never put them in a high traffic area. Then I started thinking of places in the office where we’d interacted. The elevator? No. The stairwell? No.
Eventually, I went downstairs to the lobby and asked Tom if he had seen Faye down there at all since that morning. He said he saw her leave and head toward the back of the building a couple of hours ago, and that’s when I knew.
The duck pond.
And there they were, taped beneath the picnic table, sealed up in a sandwich bag and wrapped in a paper towel with the words “Return to Sender” written on it. This detail, for some reason, majorly turned me on. Something about her taking the time to do that, knowing that I would unwrap them.
I resist the urge to touch them in my pocket. They’re pale pink with little hearts on them, and it’s like they’re burning a hole through my pants, begging me to take them out. I can’t stop thinking about her sitting at her desk in that blue dress with no underwear on. How nice it would be to kneel down and slide my hands up—
“. . . heard there was an interview set this week with an internal candidate?”
“Uh, yeah, yes. Faye Wilson. She’s worked here for several years, and the team is eager to speak with her.”
“Excellent. Can’t wait to hear more next week.” She stands up, indicating that the meeting is over. “And hopefully you’ll be able to get some sleep tonight.”
I doubt it.
I haven’t told Faye the game is over yet because I like the idea of her wondering what I’m doing. She’s so shy in person about anything sexual, but after last night, I want so badly to draw out that part of her.
After the team meeting, I get back to my desk and send her a text.
Eli: Too easy.
Faye: You found them already??
Eli: I think you wanted me to find them.
Faye: I would rather die.
Eli: Don’t be so dramatic.
Faye: Where are they now?
Eli: In my pocket.
Faye: Need them back now thanks.
Eli: Finders keepers.
Faye: You are a scoundrel.
Eli: A scoundrel? What is this the 1800s?
Faye: You’re being one!
Eli: All joking aside, I would really love it you would come with me to the party.
This whole game was all in good fun, and if she really doesn’t want to go, I’ll be disappointed—but I’d understand. She doesn’t like situations where she doesn’t know what to expect, so I need to ease her mind.
Eli: Let me give you the details and if you decide you really don’t want to go, you don’t have to.
I text her all the details, from how many people will be there to what kind of food will be served. I send her a screenshot of the invitations Evie sent out.
Faye: Will Andrew be there?
I don’t mention that Andrew was invited, but he won’t be there since he’s still gone on his trip.
Eli: No, it’s just family and some close friends of my parents.
A few minutes pass and I wonder if she’s going to reject me. My phone lights up.
Faye: Okay I’ll go.
I’m smiling so hard it almost hurts.
Eli: Can’t wait
Eli: I meant to ask you something else earlier. Want to actually take a summer Friday afternoon off and come swimming at my parents’ pool tomorrow?
Faye: Should we do a scavenger hunt for your underwear to determine if I’ll go?
Eli: Would totally do that but I’m not wearing any sadly.
Faye: Liar.
Eli: I’ll make dinner too. I’m a great cook.
Faye: I’ll have to be the judge of that.
Eli: So that’s a yes, then?
29
Faye
Eli’s parents’ house is in a beautiful historical neighborhood.
Every house looks at least a hundred years old, but they’re all so charming. I imagine there’s constant ambient noise of lawn mowers and children giggling on their bikes in the distance.
I pull up in front of the house, the cutest brick bungalow I’ve ever seen, and am greeted in the driveway by a little girl with a mass of dark curls in a hot pink swim dress. Standing next to her is a giant black Great Dane that reaches to the top of her head.
I get out of my car, wondering if I have the wrong address when she says, “You must be Faye.” She adjusts the orange pool floaties on her arms and gestures for me to follow her. “Follow me, please.”
She leads me past the front porch (complete with rocking chairs and giant potted ferns by the front door) to the side of the house, and down a flower-lined path into the backyard. When she opens the gate, the dog bounds in and runs up to where Eli is cleaning a small pool with a net. He turns at our approach, face lighting up. “I see you’ve met our concierge, Florence.” He nods to the dog. “And her assistant, Pebbles.”
Florence runs ahead of me, clearly eager to get the swimming started. Eli pulls me in for a hug and plants a kiss on the top of my head. “Sorry, I’m on last-minute babysitting duty this afternoon. Emmett is running late with a contractor at his house.”
“That’s okay.” It’s kind of nice to have a little buffer. Not that I haven’t been thinking about being alone with him all day, but I feel a jittery anticipation about what might happen tonight. This will help take some pressure off.
Florence is already standing on the steps that lead into the water. “Come on in. The water’s fine,” she says with a twirl.
“Careful, Flo. Don’t get in until I’m in there with you.” She sticks her tongue out at him, and I laugh.
“You ready to swim?” he asks me.
“I love swimming.” My grandpa had a membership to a neighborhood pool in our town. It was small, a little rundown, but it was basically my second home every summer.
He looks intrigued. “I didn’t know that.”
I’m already wearing my suit under my dress, so I take off my sundress and set it on one of the pool chairs. I grab my sunscreen from my bag and apply it everywhere I can reach while Eli finishes cleaning out the pool.
“Almost done, Flo,” he tells her as he pretends to scoop her up with the net. “Just one last critter to fish out.”
She shrieks. “I’m not a critter!”
She clearly loves him, and he clearly loves her. “I see you’re the fun uncle,” I say, walking over to the edge of the pool.
“Of course,” he says, with a cocky grin on his face. “I’m her favorite uncle.”
“I don’t have another uncle,” Florence says with a perplexed look on her face.
Eli and I share a smile at her confusion. He tosses a pair of purple goggles to her. “Can you stay on that top step until we get in?”
She nods excitedly and places the goggles on her head.
I hold up my sunscreen. “Do you mind getting my back?”
He squirts the sunscreen in his hand and rubs his palms together before massaging it onto my back and shoulders. “Need me to get your front, too?” he asks quietly by right ear. It’s the same voice he used over the phone the other night.
“No, I think I’ve already handled that,” I say.
“Suit yourself. Can I borrow this? Don’t want to use up Flo’s.”
I hand him the bottle. “Sure.”
I watch him rub the sunscreen on his chest and arms, the white streaks disappearing into his skin the way butter melts into a hot skillet. “Earth to Faye,” he says.
