I dream that Jet is here, in my apartment. He comes in the door as if he’s been here a hundred times before, coming into the living room and kissing me before he does anything else. And then he’s doing everything else. His shirt is off and I’m feeling the amazing muscles in his chest, my hand straying lower to find his cock hard as a rock beneath his jeans. His hand slips into my pants, fingers teasing as he continues to kiss me. He pushes them deeper, stroking over my G-spot. Every move he makes there feels delicious, almost like his hand is vibrating deep inside me.
I wake up with a gasp, the toy’s two vibrators pulsing in an echoing rhythm. It’s three a.m. according to the display on my TV. Man, he waited a long time to get started. Oh. The vibration changes up so that the one on my clit is pulsing and the one inside is low and steady. My moan is loud in the darkness of my apartment, and I’m glad no one is here to hear me. I reach down into my pants, using my hand to thrust the toy harder into me, imagining that Jet is once again inside me.
The toy’s vibrations chan
ge once again, and I know that this is it. The vibrations rise and fall together in cresting waves, and with each peak I feel myself get a little closer. I hold myself still, letting the toy do its work, trying to imagine what Jet is thinking as he instructs it what to do. Is he remembering what happened on the roof? Is he thinking about me coming and touching himself? I think about him being in this room, sitting across from me, stroking himself as he watches me come undone from the toy he put inside me. I think about what it would be like to watch him come as he watches me, and my arousal spikes. The vibration crests, and I’m almost there. I close my eyes, hovering in the wave of pleasure right before the storm.
Then the next wave hits, and I go over. My back arches off the couch as the pleasure races through me, swift as lightning. My muscles shake from the pressure of the release, and I reach down to turn the toy off manually. As the glow of the orgasm fades, a delightful relaxation spreads through my body, and I feel more relaxed than I have in days. I barely make it to my bed before I’m falling asleep again.
9
Another week passes, and even though I sent him a cute text thanking him for the amazing orgasm with the vibrator, I’ve still heard nothing from him. Joey and Ella are both pissed on my behalf. But I’m not mad, I just feel…sad and disappointed. Maybe I was too eager? Maybe I was taken advantage of by someone who just wanted to have sex. Maybe the sex on the roof wasn’t as good for him as it was for me. There are lots of things that could have gone wrong, and frankly, none of them are worth worrying about at this point. He’s gone. I need to file away that date as an amazing memory, and move on. It doesn’t matter that my texts—and eventually calls—have gone unanswered. It’s over. I told him that in the last text message I sent him—that if this is the way he’s going to be I didn’t want to hear from him again.
But thinking I need to move on is never as simple as actually moving on. I still catch myself thinking about his hands, his eyes, his mouth, checking my phone to see if he decided to text me today. Part of me thinks it’s pretty sad that my mind still hopes it will be him that walks through the door—after all, we didn’t know each other that long. But another, greater part of me thinks that it could have been something special, and the fact that it’s gone makes me immeasurably sad.
It doesn’t matter though. I was fine before him, and I’ll be fine after him. I still enjoy my job, and I’ve taken up new research project—how to make a Victorian ball gown accurately. After all, Halloween is only three months away. If I start now I’ll have an amazing costume, if I ever get that far. There are so many facets of Victorian dress, I may never settle on a design. But that’s okay. The research is the part I really love. Plus, all the details keep me from digging through the internet for any sign of Jet—or Jethro—Kincaid. There isn’t any social media, and the listings that are there simply list him as ‘CEO,’ without any company name attached. It’s a mystery that has the potential to drive me crazy, which is why I’m busy examining the potential meanings of Victorian wrist buttons.
Time passes, and I convince myself that I’ve forgotten all about him. Even when I use the toys that he gave me—the Womanizer is still amazing—I manage not to think about our night together. Joey jokes about setting me up on a date who will show up for a second one, and then Ella jumps on board. At first, I don’t want to. It feels too fast, like I’m not ready. But I knew Jet for less than a week, and if I protest too much my friends are going to think I’m crazy. Besides, maybe the guy they set me up with will be great. Maybe he’ll finally get my mind off of Jet and on to more important things. But I’m not going on a totally blind date, that’s where I draw the line. So, Ella agrees to have him come into the store to meet me first. If I approve, then she’ll set us up.
“Are you nervous?” Ella asks on the day the guy is supposed to come in.
“Not really,” I lie.
I am nervous. I spent way more time than I usually do on my make-up this morning. I want this to be good. I want it to work out. I want to be blown away, and be happy.
Ella gives me a look. “That was really convincing.”
“Okay, fine. I’m nervous. But I don’t see how it matters. I’m meeting him either way.”
“Darren is so sweet,” she says. “I know you’ll like him.”
I muster up the best smile I can. “I’m sure I will.”
I choose to spend most of my time in the stock room today. It’s needed organizing for weeks, and I see no better time to do it than when I don’t want to meet a potential blind date. The systematic ordering and cleaning helps alleviate some of my nerves. In the front of the store, I hear Ella enthusiastically greet someone, and I know it has to be him. I know Ella, and that’s not the way she greets normal customers. How close is she to this Darren? Am I going to offend her if I say no? Or what happens between us if we go out and I don’t actually like him? My nervousness is back in full force, and suddenly I hear Ella’s voice, “Kara?”
I brush the dust from my hands and make my way to the front, peeking my head out from behind the door to the stockroom. “Yeah?”
“Come meet Darren.” She waves me over. “Darren, this is Kara.”
He reaches out a hand, and as I shake it, I take him in. He’s a couple inches taller than I am, with light hair. A cute face with a good jawline, and he’s in shape. He’s a good looking guy. Though in my mind, when comparing him to a person who will-not-enter-my-mind-at-this-moment, it’s just not the same. “It’s nice to meet you,” I say.
“You too.” He smiles. “Ella hasn’t shut up about you.”
I blush, while giving Ella glare out of the corner of my eye.
“What?” Ella says. “I can’t help it. I like making sure my friends are happy.” She winks at me. “For example, Darren, Kara is working on an amazing Halloween costume. A Victorian ballgown.”
“Really?” he asks. “That’s fantastic. I’m an actor, and I work behind the scenes a lot. So if you need accessories or someone to dress up with you, let me know.”
I laugh. “I will. It’s still in the really early stages though.”
“You’ve got time.”
Someone else comes into the store and Ella glances over. “You two chat for a minute,” she says. “I’ll be right back.”
The two of us are silent for a moment, sharing that awkward smile you share when you both know something but neither of you are admitting it.
“So…” Darren says, “how’s your day so far?”
“Pretty boring,” I say, laughing a little. “Reorganizing the stockroom.”
He gestures around the store. “I imagine it’s entertaining at least.”
“Oh, it is. Before I worked here I had no idea just how many kinds of lube there are.”
“How many?”
I keep my face utterly straight. “About three million.”
“Really?” He looks shocked.
“No,” I say, “but I wouldn’t be surprised.”
He smiles, and I do have to admit that it is a nice smile. “You had me for a second there.”
“I know.” I give him the awkward smile again. “So does Ella already have our first date planned?”
It’s his turn to laugh. “I think she has some ideas, but I’m open to suggestions.”
“I’ll let you know.”
Ella sweeps back to us, and her appearance is like a breath of fresh air. “How you guys doing?”
“Good,” Darren says immediately. “I do have to get to rehearsal though, so I need to head out.” He looks to me. “It was really nice to meet you, Kara.”
“Likewise,” I say.
“Talk to you later, El,” he says as he heads out the door.
The minute he’s gone Ella is practically bouncing up and down. “So, what do you think?”
“He’s nice,” I say, trying to form an actual opinion. “I’m sure he’s sweet. I don’t know that I’m necessarily attracted to him though.”
She nods. “That’s fair. But you guys did just mee
t. Would you be willing to go on one date with him just to see whether or not it’s less awkward without me hovering?”
“Yes.” I roll my eyes. “I’ll do that. At the very least he’s nice and I think we’ll have a good time. No promises though.”
She puts on a fake pout. “Fine. I won’t start planning your wedding. Yet.” She winks and bounces off, and no sooner is she gone than I hear a voice behind me. “Who’s getting married?”
My whole body tightens, and I turn to find the one person I least expected to see, and the one person I wanted most. Jet is standing in the door.
10
“Hey,” he says.
My mouth falls open, and even though every part of me is happy to see him, every part of me is also pissed. “Hey?” I say. “Hey?” I’m trying not to yell and my voice lowers to a hiss. “I haven’t seen or heard from you in six weeks and you show up and say ‘hey?’”
He has the good sense to look a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I was out of the country, and my international phone didn’t get your messages. I saw them last night.”
I snort. “Out of the country. Right. You know, that’s an excuse that I’ve never heard before?”
“I was out of the country,” he says. “I was in Tokyo and Singapore for work.”
“The work you can’t tell me about,” I say, nodding. “Sure.” There’s part of me that says that he hasn’t lied about anything, but I’ve had enough of that. If he’s going to show up here after all this time, I’ve had enough. I want everything or nothing at all. “And if you got my messages, you know I told you I didn’t want to see you anymore.”