I bite my lip as he gets us a car. When it pulls up, he opens the door and we slide in.
"How far away do you live?" I ask him. His hand is on my thigh—my bare thigh—and once we're buckled into the car, it slides up further, lightly pinching the inside of my thigh, his fingers brushing against my panties, my pussy.
I close my eyes, leaning back against the headrest. We're in a stranger's car and he is stroking me under my dress. Thank God there's the fabric of my panties between his fingers and my body, because I think I would reach for that hand and force him to go deeper, harder, faster. I want him to get me off so damn bad.
"I'm just five minutes away. Can you wait that long?" he asks. His voice is a dangerous tease. I know what he's really asking.
I take his hand and pull it out from under my dress, setting it on his knees. "No," I say. "I really can't."
He chuckles. I can tell he's smiling, even though we're in the pitch dark. The driver tells us it'll be just another minute. "No problem," Grant tells him. "We're in no rush."
I bite my forefinger, laughing. "You are trouble," I say.
"Oh no, I'm going to make you wait for it," he says, his words teetering on the erotic. I'm sure the driver understands what's happening. Sexual innuendo is dripping off both of us, literally.
When we get to his place, he opens the door and stands holding it open for me. Then we walk into the lobby of his apartment building. It's fancy, big, new.
"You live here long?"
"Two years," he says.
"And you have a new startup?"
"Yeah," he says. "But I was able to open my own business because I sold off shares of the last place I worked. It set me up pretty good, for life."
"Wow," I say, impressed. "Here I am, trying to get my first job out of college. You probably think I'm pretty lame."
He laughs. "I do not think you're lame, Ginny."
"What do you think?" I ask as he pushes the button for the elevator.
"I think you are exactly what I've been looking for."
My eyes widen at these words. "What do you mean?" I ask. The elevator bings and we step inside it alone, in a metal box. Anything could happen.
"I don't date. I don't sleep around. I've been waiting for the kind of person who could be my equal, my partner."
I laugh tightly. "And you think that person might be me?" I look at him as if he's crazy.
"Why shouldn't it be?"
"I don't know. You just met me like an hour ago. I could be an ax murderer or America's most wanted serial killer."
He smiles. "I suppose. You could also be my virgin lover, my whole fucking world, the light of my goddamn life. I mean, it could be one of the two, right? Killer or lover?"
I roll my eyes as he pins me to the wall of the elevator. "Do I get to choose?"
He nods. "Yeah. You can be in the driver's seat."
"Well, then I choose to be your lover. I mean, obviously, I don't want to go to jail."
"Good girl," he says, patting my ass, letting me go.
I exhale. My whole body is on fire.
"Are you uncomfortable?" he asks.
I nod. "A little bit."
"I'm making you uncomfortable?"
"Very," I say quickly, flatly.
"But you're sure you want to come inside with me?"
"Obviously that's the only thing that's going to fix my discomfort," I say, exasperated. "Grant, you've got to know you turned me all the way on. I'm so freaking horny right now, I feel like I could spontaneously orgasm if you keep talking in that low, sexy voice, wearing that sexy tie and that sexy coat with that sexy mouth of yours.
"That's a lot of sexy," he says as the elevator door opens to his penthouse.
"You seriously live here?" I say.
"I seriously do."
I step inside. "Well, this place is seriously sexy."
"Good, because this is where you're going to lose your virginity, Ginny," he says, scooping me up in his arms and carrying me to the living room. He plops me down on a little velvet chair. "Look," he says, "I'm going to make you a cocktail. You haven't had anything to drink tonight, except for one weird shot. I'm telling you, never let your roommates order you a drink again. A buttery nipple?" he says, shaking his head. "No, you need something classic."
I smile. "I can't wait to see what you make me."
He walks over to a bar, and once there he takes off his suit coat, setting it on a table. Then he begins to pull his dress shirt from his pants, unbuttoning it. His back is to me, and I watch as he takes off his tie and dress shirt in excruciating detail. Pure torture.