'Would you let me take you to dinner?' Eric did lean, just a little.
I had hooked up, hung out, made out and had a few
unmemorable one-night stands. I'd been married and
divorced and both purposefuly and unintentionaly
celibate. But, like the roses, being asked out on a date was
a first.
My phone, which I'd shoved into my pocket, buzzed. I
didn't miss the way Eric's eyes lit up or how he reached
automaticaly for the iPhone on the table behind him, or the
automaticaly for the iPhone on the table behind him, or the
faint look of disappointment when he realized it wasn't a
message for him.
I'd have let it go but Eric looked expectant, so I puled it
out and flipped it open.
Where you @?
The sigh came out before I could stop it. I deleted the
message. Eric didn't ask, but I offered, anyway.
'From my ex,' I explained. 'He likes to keep in touch.'
'Do you like him keeping in touch?'
I'd have asked the same question if it had been him getting
the cal, but I'm not sure I'd have been as good at keeping
any hint of jealousy out of my voice.
'I've known him since high school. It's sort of a habit.'
'Ah.' Eric sat back a little.
When my phone rang a moment later, I ignored it in my
palm and didn't answer it. I looked at him, instead. 'I'd
love to go to dinner with you, Eric.'
love to go to dinner with you, Eric.'
It should have been enough, the promise of that date, but it
wasn't. Along with the other myriad lists commanding he
relate to me just about everything in his life, I left him a pair
of my panties, worn, tucked into an envelope and a note
detailing exactly what he was supposed to do with them.
And I wanted pictures. They were waiting in my in-box
when I got home from work that night. A series of shots
taken in close-up of his prick, his fist, the soft cotton of my
panties clutched tight around the shaft.
I was halfway in love.
I could've found a thousand pictures just like them on any
Internet porn site, true, but al my breath disappeared
when I opened them. He'd done this for me. Because of
me.
Powerful stuff.
Dinner was, if you'l pardon the pun, anticlimactic after
that. He took me to a nice new Mexican restaurant where
we drank margaritas and listened to a very good mariachi
band while we shared first-date stories as though he'd
never been on his knees in front of me.
never been on his knees in front of me.
