She seems relieved that I’m not pushing, but we still need a plan for tonight, one that satisfies her, whether or not she’s the one to come up with an idea.
“Just remember,” I add, “that nothing will happen that you’re not comfortable with. If we head in any direction that you don’t want to go, just say the word, and we’ll shift course.”
“That won’t be a problem,” she says, and I love the self-assuredness in her tone. I trust that Lorraine will be direct and honest, once she knows what she wants.
What kind of loser must her ex have been to leave her out of touch with her own desires? And for her to feel surprised when someone compliments her, or brings her flowers?
She slides off of her seat. “They usually get here pretty quickly,” she says, reaching into another cupboard for plates, giving me another look at her shapely legs.
I want to suggest all kinds of dirty ideas for our evening, but I bite my tongue and take another swig of whiskey.
“Ever watch porn?”I ask after I swallow. Sometimes I’m not very good at censoring myself.
“What?”
“You have, right? Doesn’t everybody?”
“Why do you ask?” she says, leaning on the counter, her arms straight and stiff, her breasts pressed together between them.
The fact that she didn’t deny it leaves me with the image of her in front of a screen, her hands in her panties, her breath coming out in short huffs. I wonder what she likes to watch.
“I was just thinking,” I say. “You know the stereotypical pizza guy porn?”
She neither confirms nor denies, but continues to look at me as she pulls napkins from a drawer.
“The pizza guy delivers a pizza to a sexy woman. That would be you,” I tell her, because I’m going to keep complimenting her until she gets used to it. “The woman, for some weird reason, placed an order even though she has absolutely no cash or credit cards available to pay for it. The two of them puzzle over the problem while some cheesy music plays, and then one of them suggests an alternate way for her to reimburse the guy for the pizza. The cheesy music gets louder, and things start to get more interesting.”
“Why are you telling me this?” she asks.
“That could be us. That could be your fantasy for tonight, minus the cringey music.”
She continues to stare before finally saying, “You want us to act out a bad porn plot?”
I nod. “It could be fun. And probably way better than ordering pineapple on our pizza.”
Lorraine shakes her head, not in refusal but because it’s such a goofy idea, and she laughs, which I chalk up as another win.
When her doorbell rings, I hold up a finger, telling her to wait where she is. On my way to the door, I take off my outer shirt, leaving the t-shirt underneath. I step outside to accept the delivery, and give the guy a few dollars, even though Lorraine may have already tipped through the app.
When he drives off, I mess up my hair in a small attempt to change my appearance, and knock on her door, pizza box in hand. I have to knock twice before she answers, but when she does, I’m knocked off my feet.
Lorraine is draped against the door frame, her arm stretched above her, her hip jutting out, and her back arched, pressing her chest forward. Her other hand rests on her hip, and when she speaks, her voice is a purr. “Hi there.”
I nearly forget we’re playacting, and the impulse to tackle her immediately is strong. With effort, I force a bored tone. “I’m here with your pizza.”
“Oh, that’s great,” she says, her voice low and sultry. “How much do I owe you?”
“Twenty dollars. And seventy-four cents,” I add.
She smirks and almost starts to laugh, but keeps it together. “Why don’t you come inside? I just need to get my purse.”
I do as she says and continue to mime boredom, even as I check out her body. Has she hiked up her dress since I first arrived?
“Oh no,” Lorraine says, holding her wallet and looking mock distressed. “I don’t have any money.”
“I can’t give you the pizza unless you pay me, lady.”
“I’m really, really hungry,” she says, and my cock twitches at the sight of her pouty red lips.
“I’m sorry, lady. I need some kind of payment. Maybe you could think of something.”
She flutters her eyelashes as she looks me up and down, playing her role like a pro.
I pretend to check the label on the cardboard box. “I see this is a meat lover's pizza. Are you a meat lover?”
Lorraine nods enthusiastically. “I am. I love meat,” she says, and both of us almost start laughing. “I’m really, really hungry for some meat. Maybe I could pay you … in some other way?”