Chapter Three
Mae felt her stomach drop when she got to the corner and didn’t see Griff. It was a little after noon, but not by much. Where could he be? She stood there, watching the cars go by, wondering what to do.
She knew, of course, what she should do—go on to her grandmother’s, as she had planned, and drop off the medicine she’d picked up at the pharmacy. She’d taken the phone call from the pharmacist that morning, knowing it meant a trip across town, and had been secretly thrilled. The telephone in her apartment was one of the things her grandmother had insisted on and had even paid for, renting the model from the phone company, and while it was a luxury Mae wouldn’t have even considered if she’d been on her own entirely, it had served to be quite an amazing convenience.
Of course, there was no way to call Griff. He was just here every day, waiting for her—somehow she was sure he was waiting just for her, even if he looked busy every time she arrived. She didn’t even know where the man might reside. Did he live anywhere? Maybe in one of the shanty towns by the river? She shuddered at the thought.
No, Griff was clean, respectable, if a little rough around the edges sometimes. He had a job—had made one for himself right there on the New York street corner, selling apples out of his cart. He was a survivor with an entrepreneurial spirit she admired. He reminded her a little of her father.
But your father wasn’t the man you thought he was, now was he?
That thought made her swallow hard and blink fast and look for something to distract herself. The cars had stopped now—the traffic officer high up in his tower had changed the light—and she could go, but she didn’t. She didn’t trust herself to make it across, even following amidst the crowd, with the sudden rise of tears stinging her eyes. Instead, the horde parted around her, jostling to get to the other side of the busy street before the light changed again.
Mae backed away from the intersection clutching her basket, letting the people pass her by. She probably would have just run home and called her grandmother to tell her she wasn’t feeling well, that she’d come by tomorrow instead, if he hadn’t run into her like a brick wall coming around the corner, making her drop her basket, the already-straining latch popping open and spilling the contents onto the concrete.
“Excuse me!” she exclaimed, trying to catch her breath, wondering if the glass in the thermos was broken as she stopped its roll with a swipe of her hand, kneeling gracefully on the sidewalk to try and replace the basket’s contents.
She didn’t realize it was him until he was squatting down beside her, helping her put things back, and she saw the deft movements of his hands. She knew those hands.
“Griff!”
“Hey, Red.” He grinned, giving her a wink. “We really have to stop meeting like this.” He sounded breathless, like he’d been running when he’d literally run into her—again.
She giggled, remembering the first time she’d met him, on her way to grandmother’s, a farm girl in a big city hurrying through the streets in her new red wool cape, her hood so low she could barely see anything at all. She certainly hadn’t seen him, stepping out from behind his apple cart, and he hadn’t been looking her way—instead he’d been focused on the four apples he’d been juggling to the delight of a small crowd. She had hit him square in his very solid chest with her pert little nose, surprising them both. He’d done the very same thing that day, she remembered, as apples rained down onto the concrete—that sly smile and the greeting he now used every time they met, “Hey, Red!”
She smiled and held up one of the sandwiches. “I made your favorite.”
“You are an angel.” He snatched at it, already unwrapping the waxed paper to get to the bread and meat before he’d even fully stood, holding his other hand out to help her up. “I’m starving.”
“Where were you?” She knew her voice sounded accusatory, and she didn’t want him to know how worried she’d been. “I thought you’d been kidnapped.”
He shrugged. “I thought I saw someone I knew.” He talked with his mouth half-full of sandwich, nodding toward the corner he’d come sailing around and swallowing. “But I never caught up.”
She pursed her lips, eyes narrowing. “Oh. I see.”
“It wasn’t a dame,” he assured her, giving a lopsided smile.
“No?”
“No, Red.” He took her by the elbow, steering her toward his apple cart. “Besides, with a doll like you around, what man could look at anything else?”
“You’re crackers,” she protested, but she was smiling.
“That’s a fact.”
But now he had her curious. “So who was it?”
“Just some Joe I used to know.” He pulled her behind his cart, as familiar to her as home now. “Come on, Red, let’s take a load off.”
They sat on wooden folding chairs behind Griff’s apple cart, eating food out of the basket and watching the city walk by, dabbing their mouths with the embroidered cloth napkins Mae had packed as if they were eating in the finest restaurant in town. She couldn’t have been any happier if they had been, she figured, when Griff dotted a bit of frosting from his chocolate cupcake onto her nose.
“Hey!” she protested, making a face and wiping at the sticky stuff with her napkin. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to play with your food?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” he asked, his mouth mostly full of cupcake as he licked his sticky fingers. Grabbing three of his apples, he tossed them casually into the air, juggling them easily. He always sold more apples than anyone because he did all sorts of tricks with them. He could juggle and make them disappear and had even once turned an apple into the fat, juicy orange she’d packed in her basket for him, although she still wasn’t quite sure how he’d done it.
“So what’s eating you, Red?”
She sighed, shrugged, and looked out at the people passing them on the street. Most just walked by and didn’t see them at all. Griff was good at getting people’s attention when he needed to, though. She glanced at him leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head. He looked casual, but she knew he was waiting for her answer. She wondered how old he was. Older than she was, certainly—she hadn’t even decided what college to go to when her parents had died—but not old.
No, not old. His face was unlined, but tanned from the sun, his eyes a bright, mischievous blue. His hair was cut nicely, his face shaved, his clothes clean, although his shoes were rather shabby looking and his hat, a fat little black cap, had seen better days. He was quite handsome, really, although she didn’t think he knew it, and he wasn’t a small man. His shoulders were broad and full under his button-down shirt and suspenders.
“It’s my grandmother,” Mae finally confessed, contemplating her tomato. She ate them like most people ate apples, and Griff still teased her about it, saying he should start selling tomatoes for her on his cart. “She wants us to move away.”
The legs of Griff’s chair came down slowly. “Away? Where?”
“She’s not well.” Mae decided against the tomato, tucking it back into the basket, seeing the white paper bag inside. “It’s her heart. The doctor says she’s got too much stress here in the city. Says she needs to get away.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, frowning. “I’m sure you’ll miss her.”
Mae glanced at him again, meeting his eyes only briefly. “Well that’s the thing. She wants me to go with her.”
“Oh.” The word was barely a breath.
“I’m really doing okay by myself,” she assured him, as if he’d given some protest. “I have the insurance settlement from my parents’ accident. It’s more than enough for me to live on. But my grandmother…” Mae glanced down, smoothing her skirt over her knees. “She can’t stop talking about finding me a husband.”
Griff nodded. “Pretty girl like you should probably have one,” he agreed.
She smiled shyly, picking lint off her skirt. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind. If it was the right one.”
He raised an eyebrow in her direction. “Did you have someone in mind?”
She felt herself blushing and looked away.
“Hey, Mae…” He knew her real name, but he hardly ever used it. The sound of it thrilled her. “I was wondering… would you like to go to a picture with me?”
“Which one?” She held her breath as if the answer really mattered.
“King Kong,” he replied and she smiled. Of course. It was all anyone could talk about. “It opens tonight.”
She wondered if he could see the stars in her eyes. “I’d love to.”
“Really?” He sounded almost as surprised by her assent as she’d been by his question.
She knew she was breathless, but she couldn’t help it. “When?”
“Tonight? I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“Here.” She pulled a pencil and a receipt out of the little purse hidden at the bottom of the basket, writing down her address and apartment number. Now he knew where she lived and the thought made her feel a little lightheaded. “I should go. My grandmother will be waiting.”
She pressed the piece of paper into his hand and it closed around hers. His touch was like fire.
“Tonight.”
She smiled, closing her basket and slinging it over her arm. “I can’t wait.” Which was the truth. Seven o’clock was only four hours away, and she wanted to get home so she could torture herself over what to wear.
“See ya, Red,” he called as she walked away.
She couldn’t remember how she got to her grandmother’s. She thought maybe she flew. The walk was blocks and blocks but she didn’t see any of the usual scenery, didn’t stop at the other street vendors or delight in the performers. She didn’t see or hear anything but Griff and that bright light in his eyes when she’d said, “Yes,” didn’t feel anything but his hand swallowing hers.
That’s probably why she didn’t see Lionel until he grabbed her arm, catching her up short, causing her to gasp and look up in alarm. She was in a much better neighborhood now, nearing Central Park West where her grandmother’s apartment overlooked the city, but she was always worried about “getting snatched,” as her grandmother phrased it. In her new clothes, with her hair styled, she practically made herself a target. Which was, of course, why her grandmother kept telling her she needed to move in, and another reason she insisted they move away from the city altogether. “It’s too dangerous a place for wealthy people to reside,” her grandmother had decided.
“Lionel!” She recognized him immediately, feeling a connection to home she hadn’t even realized she’d been missing. She could suddenly see her father’s office from her usual vantage point under the desk, smell the sharp, dark ink he used to sign his contracts and the pipe he smoked when he was deep in thought. Her father was a rancher, but he also singlehandedly ran eight of the biggest slaughterhouses in the Midwest. He’d made his own fortune, although she’d never been spoiled like most children with rich parents. Granted, she hadn’t really wanted for anything, but her life with her parents on their ranch didn’t speak of great wealth.
She’d spent lots of time playing and reading in the kneehole of her father’s desk—until she got too big to fit, and then she would loll around in the fat, black leather armchair, wearing dungarees with hay in her hair and her nose in a book, while her father talked on the telephone about cows and pigs and chickens or railed about the unions. Occasionally people would come into the office to talk to him. One of those people had been Lionel Tryst.
“Well, Maeve Eileen Verges!” he exclaimed, sweeping his hat off his head and bowing low. The gesture wasn’t as foreign to her as it once had been, but it still made her want to giggle. That, along with hearing her full name, made the moment even more surreal. She’d been named after her grandmother, a family name passed on, but no one ever said it out loud. “What a pleasure to find you in New York!”
“How are you?” she inquired, slowly extracting herself from the man as they walked—he was still holding her arm, a little too familiarly for her liking. “I haven’t seen you since…”
He nodded sympathetically. “I’m so sorry about your loss, Mae. Your parents were wonderful people.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat that always rose whenever anyone mentioned them. “Thank you.”
“So what are you doing here in the big city?”
“My grandmother.” She nodded at the building they were now standing in front of. “She lives in the penthouse.”
“In the Century building?” Lionel gave a low whistle, squinting as he looked upward. “That’s an expensive piece of real estate.”
Mae laughed. “I thought you were in the insurance business?”
“I’m a jack of all trades.” He grinned. “I just sold an apartment in the Majestic for five thousand a year.”
Mae gasped. “It’s amazing anyone can afford that nowadays!”
“With great collapse comes great opportunity.” He winked. “You let me know if your grandmother is looking to sell. I’d be happy to find her a buyer. In fact, I talked to someone just last week who was asking me about the penthouse in the Century.”
“Really?” She hesitated. Her grandmother had been so ill, and part of that, she knew, was living in the city. Fresh air would do her good. But the truth was, as much as Mae missed the country herself, there was now an even bigger reason for her to want to stay. Griff had just asked her for a date! But as much as she wanted to just bid Lionel a quick goodbye, in spite of his connections to home, she knew she had to do the right thing. “Actually, she’s been trying to sell it for a few months now, but in this market…”
“Is that so?” Lionel’s eyes widened in surprise. “Well, muffin, what say you and me go pay your grandmother a little visit?”
The doorman at the Century knew Mae and he let her up with Lionel without question. They chatted in the elevator about Nebraska, and Mae inquired about mutual acquaintances. She’d left her best friend, Irene, just as the girls were planning to find a college to attend together. Lionel said Irene had gone on to some art school in California, but Mae couldn’t even imagine it.
“Grandmother?” Mae knocked and then slipped the key into the lock when no one answered, opening the door at the end of the hall. The entire top floor was hers, but it was sectioned off, and her grandmother only lived in part of it. She opened up the other wings only when she had guests or entertained. The foyer was open and there was a large living area with a fireplace almost as tall as she was and hardwood floors her grandmother had covered with ornate rugs. The dining room to the left showcased a gorgeous oak table underneath a chandelier so heavy Mae often wondered how it stayed secured to the ceiling.
“I’m in the kitchen, dearest!”
Mae smiled at the sound of her grandmother’s voice, motioning Lionel to follow. In spite of the fact that Mae hadn’t even known the woman existed before a few months ago, she’d grown quite fond of her in the time they’d spent together, and it seemed the reverse was also true.
Mae found the old woman stirring a cup of tea and she wondered at that, frowning. Usually her grandmother had plenty of help—two maids to clean and a butler to answer the door, as well as a nurse who came in once a day just to check. Her grandmother rarely lifted a finger to do anything for herself. She didn’t have to, and she seemed to like it that way.
“Where’s John?” Mae inquired after the butler, kissing her grandmother’s cheek, catching the scent of lavender and rose water. The old woman’s skin was as soft and thin as the Kleenex Mae used to take cold cream off her face at night.
“I gave everyone the night off.” Her grandmother smiled as she turned to face her granddaughter, her eyes still bright, although her face was heavily lined. She was always impeccably dressed, still wearing heels, even at her age. “I have a surprise for you.” The woman’s eyes widened as she saw the stranger standing in her doorway. “And who’s this?”
“Oh, this is Lionel.” Mae smiled at him as he swept his hat off and bowed low. “Lionel Tryst. He worked for my father back home. Lionel, this is my grandmother, the first Maeve Eileen Verges.”
“So pleased to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Verges.”
Mae noticed that Lionel’s manners had already won her grandmother over, which was probably a good thing. If he had a buyer for the penthouse, that would go a long way toward getting it sold more quickly. Although she wasn’t sure anymore if that was a good thing. But she couldn’t deny that meeting Lionel right out front of her grandmother’s building had to be some sort of sign. It was too much of a strange coincidence not to mean something.
“He thinks he may have a buyer for your apartment,” Mae explained, taking the old woman’s elbow as she started toward the doorway.
“Oh that would be wonderful!” The old woman glanced up at Lionel as he flanked her on the other side, also taking her elbow as they made their way to the living room. “How did you know my son, Mr. Tryst?”
“He was a business associate,” Lionel explained as they settled themselves. “A finer man I’ve never met.”
Her grandmother beamed at his praise of her son and Mae couldn’t help smiling. The old woman got teary eyed every time his name was mentioned. She’d missed so many years of his life, and all of Mae’s up until now, just because she couldn’t stand the woman he’d married. Mae’s mother had been, as her grandmother politely put it, “Not of the same social stature” as Mae’s father. She’d never known her father had come from old money, or that her mother had been born poor and was just a young tennis instructor he met at summer camp his senior year.
There had been a great deal about her parents she didn’t know, she realized now. It didn’t make her love them any less, but it did make her sad, for all of them, at the time they’d missed. Her grandmother had changed her mind and had tried, many times she’d said, over the years, to reconcile, but Mae’s father was a stubborn man. He refused to return her calls and wouldn’t let her see her own granddaughter.
Of course, after the accident, her father hadn’t had a say in Mae’s life anymore, and when her grandmother had contacted her, asking her to come to New York, she’d gone in a haze of grief, looking for any connection she could find to her dead parents.
Now she couldn’t have been more glad she’d made that decision.
“Where are my manners?” her grandmother exclaimed. “Lionel, would you like something to drink? Something a little stronger than tea, perhaps?” The old woman’s eyes brightened as she looked at the younger man.
Lionel raised his eyebrows. “Now, Mrs. Verges, you have heard about prohibition, haven’t you?”
“Oh indeed, but there are ways around it, Mr. Tryst, if the price is right.” She winked and Mae swore she actually giggled before taking a sip of her tea.
“I’m sure that’s true.” He chuckled. “But thanks all the same.”
“You have alcohol, Grandma?” Mae looked at her in mock disapproval.
The older Maeve primly sipped her tea. “It’s medicinal.”
Mae met Lionel’s eyes and they both hid a smile.
“Speaking of medicine…” Mae opened her basket and removed the white bag. “The pharmacist said to tell you hello.”
“Oh good!” Her grandmother plucked the bag up, peering inside. “I’m sure I’m going to need these tonight.”
Mae laughed. “Why? What are you planning?” The pills were nitroglycerin for her grandmother’s angina, and she only used them when she was having an episode, which was usually when she got really excited—or angry.
“Your surprise!” The old woman glanced between the two of them, her gaze speculative. “And of course, you’re welcome to join us, Mr. Tryst.”
“How kind of you.” Lionel smiled, leaning back in the chair and glancing at Mae. She blinked, looking between the man and her grandmother.
“I normally hate crowds, but I’m making an exception.” The older Maeve smiled at her granddaughter. “We’re going to the movie premiere of King Kong!”
Lionel sat up, eyes widening. “The movie premiere?”
“Radio City?” Mae gulped, already knowing, with a sick, sinking feeling in her belly, that she was trapped.
And there proved to be no way to get around it. She tried, several different ways, to find an excuse to have to go back home, but her grandmother wasn’t having it. She had a new outfit for Mae to wear, so she couldn’t say she had to go home to change. And while begging off as ill crossed her mind, she knew how disappointed her grandmother would be.
So she changed into her new dress—Lionel’s eyebrows went up when she made her entrance and she flushed, thanking him for his compliments—and continued to make small talk until it was time to go, all the while thinking that there was no way to let Griff know she wouldn’t be at her apartment when he came to pick her up. She could imagine his reaction, but she didn’t want to think about him knocking and knocking…
The driver held open the door to the Rolls-Royce limousine for her, but Mae barely saw him. She couldn’t think about anything but Griff. Would they pass his corner on the way to Radio City? She didn’t think she could bear it. She turned her face way from the window and responded to something Lionel said with just a smile.
“You’re so distracted.” Her grandmother patted her knee and Mae tried to fight the tears threatening. She wanted to tell her about Griff, just come clean and tell her the truth—but how could she? Her grandmother had disowned her own son for less. How could she possibly ever accept a man who not only didn’t have any money or a pedigree, but one who peddled apples on the street corner?
“Just excited,” she assured her grandmother, covering the old woman’s hand with hers. Lionel sat across from the two of them, chatting away, something about the new subway system, and it was easy to tune him out.
“Oh goodness, look at that line!” The old woman gasped. “I can’t possibly wait in that!”
Mae looked out the window and saw it stretching down the side of the building. So many people!
“Leave it to me.” Lionel told the driver to stop at the entrance and let him off. Mae and her grandmother stayed in the car, watching as he went into the building, pushing past the rest of the crowd.
“What is he up to?” her grandmother murmured, but it wasn’t long before they found out. Lionel returned, waving three tickets as he helped Mae’s grandmother out of the car.
“How did you do that?” Mae asked as he led them in front of the crowd, guiding each of them by an elbow.
“You just have to know the right people.” He shrugged. “These are box seats, by the way. We’re up here.” He showed the tickets to a man in a red suit, who escorted them up a flight of stairs.
“My goodness!” Mae’s grandmother exclaimed as Lionel helped her into a seat. The box overlooked the entire theater as it filled with people. From this angle, Mae thought they might just be right on eye-level with the giant ape!
“This is quite a surprise!” Her grandmother sounded like a young girl and Mae couldn’t help smiling.
“So a surprise for your granddaughter turns out to be a surprise for you too,” Lionel said as he slipped in beside Mae. He leaned over to whisper in her ear. “You look lovely enough to eat.”
His words made her flush, and she murmured something that resembled a thank you, although she wasn’t quite sure that either his comment or her answer were appropriate. But her grandmother was sitting beside her and she couldn’t protest without drawing attention to herself. What she wanted to do was melt into the seat and disappear. Well, that wasn’t entirely true—what she really wanted was to be here with Griff, down there on the floor amidst the rest of the crowd, pressed far too close together and warm.
Instead she was sitting next to Lionel Tryst, who kept whispering compliments that made her blush, his knee coming far too close to hers as the lights in the theater went down. There was a stage show prior to the picture—something about jungles. She wasn’t paying too much attention, because Lionel’s hand had moved from his knee to hers.
By the time the movie started, Lionel’s hand had moved to her thigh. Mae shifted in her seat and crossed her legs, hoping to give him a strong enough hint. She leaned away from him toward her grandmother to ask if she was cold—up here the theater did seem a little chilly—and stayed as far from him as she could in her seat.
Thankfully, he didn’t touch her again, but while that situation had improved, now she had time to think about Griff. He was supposed to be here beside her, whispering and joking and making her giggle. And when the giant ape appeared and killed the snake, she wanted it to be Griff’s hand she grabbed, not Lionel’s—she couldn’t help herself, the scene made her hide her face against his suit coat in terror—and when the poor creature tumbled from the top of the Empire State Building, she wanted it to be Griff’s handkerchief she used to wipe her tears, not Lionel’s.
“What a picture!” Mae’s grandmother dabbed her eyes with her own handkerchief as the lights came up, the crowd below buzzing with excitement. Mae handed Lionel’s handkerchief back to him as they walked down the stairs, making their way toward the car. The driver had been waiting down the street for them to appear and he swung the door wide, sweeping them all in.
“What did you think of the movie?” Lionel inquired, looking at Mae from his seat across from her. He was still too close, his knees touching hers.
She blinked at him, wishing it was Griff asking that question. With him, she could be honest, and she knew he would be too. So instead of tackling the prejudice inherent in the film, or even the implied eroticism, which was an even more dangerous topic, she just murmured, “Fay Wray is very beautiful.”
“Not nearly as lovely as you, my dear,” he responded.
Mae’s grandmother smiled approvingly, glancing between the two of them, and Mae inwardly groaned. She knew that look. It was her grandmother’s, “I have to find this girl a husband” look and more specifically her, “I think I’ve just found a prospect!” gaze. Lionel was a kind man, and while he did remind her of home, if she’d been interested in him, she would have responded to his advances back on the ranch when her parents were alive.
Of course, her grandmother didn’t know that, and she began to question him in earnest about his parents, his employment, his general status and character. At least it kept Mae from having to talk. She watched the city lights go by and thought about Griff. She hoped she could repair her jilting him tonight, make it up to him somehow. Maybe they could have a picnic in the park?
“You two run off and play.” Her grandmother patted her hand and winked over at Lionel as the car pulled up in front of the Century building. “This old lady needs her rest. But my driver will take you anywhere you want to go.”
Mae’s heart sank.
“That’s very generous of you.” Lionel opened the door, helping her grandmother out of the car before the driver could, and Mae took the opportunity, grabbing her red wool coat off the seat and slipping out the door behind them.
“Grandmother, I’m going to walk home.” She leaned over and kissed the old woman’s cheek. “I need some fresh air.”
“You can’t walk home alone this late at night!” her grandmother protested, but Mae waved her response away, already walking.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Verges,” Mae heard Lionel respond. “I’ll see she gets home safely.”
He caught up with her in just a few strides and she didn’t protest when he fell into step beside her. It really wasn’t safe to walk at night, she knew, but she couldn’t bear the thought of being cooped up in a car with Lionel and spending the night fending off his advances.
The air was cool and she shivered, stopping to put her coat on, and Lionel helped her. She let him. They walked in silence for a while, until Mae couldn’t stand it anymore.
“So do you really think you’ll find a buyer for my grandmother’s apartment?” she inquired politely as they rounded the corner. The city looked very different at night. The terrain changed, becoming hazy, as if seen through a veil.
“I believe so.” His response was short and she had a feeling he was angry with her—probably for rebuffing him in the theater. That made her relent a little and she glanced up at him as they walked.
“What did you think of the movie?” she asked.
“Beauty and the Beast in the jungle?” He snorted. “Except in this version, beauty kills the beast, which is really a little ridiculous when you think about it.”
“It wasn’t the girl who killed him,” she countered. “But I admit, it was a rather doomed relationship. They had nothing in common.”
He flashed her a smile and a sidelong glance as they walked. “Oh, I think they had at least one thing in common.”
They were coming up on Mae’s building and she slowed, stopping in front of it, to look up at him. “What’s that?”
He took a step toward her, so close she could feel the heat from his body, even through her thick, red wool coat. He leaned in to whisper against the shell of her ear, “Their primal natures.”
Mae took a step back, smiling. “So you subscribe to Darwin’s theory?” she asked, started up her tenement steps.
He looked up at her quizzically. “Who?”
“Thanks for walking me home.”
He frowned. “Don’t you want me to see you up?”
“Good night,” she said gently, waving from the top of the stairs. “Thanks again for walking me home.”
He didn’t look happy, but she left him anyway, watching her from the bottom of the stairs as the door closed and locked behind her. The lift in her building was old and she waited a long time for it to decide to start rising toward the eighteenth floor, making her stomach lurch.
Her thoughts were fully back on Griff again and her belly filled with regret. If only she had found a way to contact him. She had left her basket at her grandmother’s, but she would pack something up tomorrow anyway and go over to the apple cart to apologize. Make him a double-decker sandwich. Maybe even bake a pie. She had lots of apples, thanks to Griff, and she made a pastry crust that melted in your mouth.
Decided, and feeling just a little better for it, she stepped off the elevator, glancing down the hall as she looked through her purse for her key, when she saw him out of the corner of her eye. He was sitting beside her door, head leaned back against the wall, eyes closed. Oh my god, he waited for me. He’s still waiting for me!
He was snoring softly as she approached and she could look at him freely. He was wearing a suit, a nice one, and there was a top hat resting on the carpet beside him. His face was clean-shaven and she followed the line of his jaw with her gaze, strong and solid, her eyes drawn down to the tie at his throat. He looked so handsome she could have cried.
“Griff.” She cleared her throat, nudging him gently with her knee.
His eyes opened slowly and the look in them when he recognized her made her stomach do little flips. He should have been angry—furious in fact—but he was actually happy to see her. She could tell by the sleepy smile beginning at the corners of his mouth.
“There she is.” His smile broadened. “I think we missed the picture.”
Mae flushed “I’m so sorry. My grandmother made plans, and I couldn’t—”
“I was worried,” he admitted, interrupting as he got to his feet. “I’m just glad you’re all right.”
“I’m fine.” She fit the key in the lock of her door, turning and pushing it open. “Come inside at least. Have some tea.”
“Are you sure?” He peered into the apartment, hesitating at the threshold.
Mae smiled, reaching out and catching the edge of his sleeve. “Come on. Please.”
“Well, since you said please.” He shut the door behind him, watching as she turned lights on, taking off her coat and hanging it over a chair.
“Make yourself at home.” She put the kettle on, knowing tea would keep her awake, but now that Griff was here she didn’t care.
“You look like a goddess.” His words stopped her at the stove and she glanced over her shoulder to see him staring at her in the dress her grandmother had bought. It was white with a high neckline but a ruched bust and no sleeves, leaving her arms bare. It was actually quite reminiscent of the dress Fay Wray wore in the movie, and it had probably been intentional on her grandmother’s part, she realized.
“Thank you.” She joined him at the table, still admiring him in his suit. They were in different territory now and she felt a shift in things. They were both trying to gain their footing in this new place.
“So do you want to try again?” Griff suggested. She had the feeling he was trying not to sound hopeful, which just made him sound even more so. “King Kong isn’t going anywhere for a while.”
Mae smiled and thought about lying, but that seemed like a bad way to start things off, so she told him the truth, that her grandmother had planned for them to go to the premiere as a surprise and she’d already seen the picture.
“But I kept wishing you were there,” she said, hearing the kettle and rising to get it. “Lionel was a poor substitute, I’m afraid.”
“Lionel?” he inquired, watching her pour water into cups, plopping in tea bags and bringing them on saucers to the table.
“Do you want milk and sugar?” Mae stalled, kicking herself for mentioning Lionel at all.
“No.” He stirred his tea, still looking at her. “Who’s Lionel?”
“He’s a former business associate of my father,” she explained, reaching for the sugar and adding two lumps. “He thinks he has a buyer for my grandmother’s apartment. It’s not easy to find a buyer for the penthouse in the Century, given the market,” she explained quickly.
“Oh.” Griff’s spoon slowed. “Well that’s good news.”
“Is it?” She grimaced, putting the tea bag on her saucer.
“No.” His answer was gruff and she looked up, seeing his jaw working.
Sighing, Mae sat back in her seat, folding her arms. “I’ll be honest, I don’t mind leaving the city, but…”
“But what?” Griff leaned in, elbows on her little table, closing the space between them.
“Not what, exactly…” She met his eyes, those deep, blue familiar eyes, and told him the truth. “Who.”
“Who?” he asked.
That was the question, wasn’t it? She answered that one honestly, too.
“You.”
Griff got down on his knees. Mae stared at him, aghast as he knelt beside her chair. He was looking up at her from this position, so strange. This wasn’t just new territory, it was the entrance to a whole new world.
“I’m going to do something right now that I really shouldn’t,” he informed her, taking both of her hands in his.
“Please.” She didn’t know where she found her voice.
“Please what?” He frowned. He was so close she could smell him, clean and fresh, like apples. “Please don’t?”
“No…” She couldn’t finish her sentence or even her thought. He was too close; she was too full of him.
“No?”
Mae tried again, leaning in a little, giving him hope with her body language. “No, please…do. Do.”
“I have to,” he murmured, sliding his arms around her and pressing his mouth to hers.
Maybe it was knowing that this was all they could have, that she would be leaving with her grandmother, moving far from the city, and there would be no more stolen picnic lunches—but Mae thought, when thought returned hours later, that it went deeper than that. She gave herself to him because, at the core of her being, she knew she belonged to this man.
He whispered her name, kissing the slender curve of her neck, licking the indented hollow of her throat, his breath so hot it burned her skin. She clung to him, his shoulders wide and broad under her hands. His mouth captured hers again, his tongue slipping between her lips, and she welcomed the deep, gentle exploration, lost in sensation.
The press of his body between her thighs parted them, hiking her dress up far too high for modesty, and when she felt the thick heat of his cock through his trousers she remembered to at least attempt to protect her virtue.
“Griff,” she gasped, pushing at his chest, breaking their kiss. “We can’t. It’s not that I don’t want to…” She swallowed, seeing the hunger in his eyes, feeling his urgency. Flushing, she stammered over the words, “But if I get pregnant…”
“I have something.” He pulled his wallet out of his pocket, flipping it open and pulling out a square she recognized, although she’d only ever seen one other one.
Her eyes widened at the sight of the condom. “Those are illegal.”
“So’s alcohol, but you can get it in the speakeasies without too much trouble.” He grinned, putting it back into his wallet and shoving his wallet back into his pocket. “You just have to know where to go and have the money to pay.”
“And it works?”
He shrugged. “It’s better than Lysol.”
Mae made a face. She’d seen the advertisements and had heard that douching with the stuff after relations would prevent an unwanted pregnancy, but just the smell made her dizzy and sick. She couldn’t imagine putting it inside of her! Of course, there were a lot of things she couldn’t imagine putting inside of her, and the cock rising thick and insistent between her thighs was one of them.
It wasn’t that she didn’t know what sex was or how it all worked—her girlfriends had talked extensively about it, and her best friend, Irene, had lost her virginity the year before with a boy at summer camp and had given her all the gory details—but she was more than a little afraid. Still, she’d never felt this way about any of the boys she’d been with, the ones she had fumbled around in the dark with, their hands groping, mouths open with sloppy kisses, like over-eager puppies looking for a treat.
Griff was different.
Mae stood, holding out her hand, and he took it, rising to meet her and take her into his arms. She felt instantly connected to him, even before he kissed her, his mouth practiced, sure, controlled. This wasn’t a boy, but a man. He could restrain himself if he needed to—even if he just wanted to. He wouldn’t do anything she didn’t want him to do, and that made it safer somehow.
“Come to bed,” she whispered, closing her eyes and letting him caress her neck and shoulder with his mouth.
She felt him stiffen, hesitating, his teeth nibbling at her ear. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she breathed, putting her arms around his neck and pressing her breasts fully against his chest, hearing him gasp at the sensation. That filled her with an incredible sense of power and she wiggled in his arms, wanting more.
“Oh god, Mae,” he murmured, and she squeaked in surprise when he swept her up into his arms, carrying her around the corner and shoving open her bedroom door. He pulled the shade and switched on the little lamp on her dresser, pulling her between his thighs and turning her around so he could unzip her dress.
His hands moved over her shoulders, sliding the silk of the dress down her arms and letting the expensive material pool on the floor at her feet. She stepped out of her heels, feeling him lifting her slip, pulling it off over her head. Now she was undressed for him, down to just a bra, panties and stockings, and she turned to face him, seeing the lust in his eyes as his gaze swept over her.
Griff was still almost fully dressed—he’d taken his shoes and suit coat off—when he kissed her down onto the bed and they rolled together, hands and mouths exploring. The twin bed was small and they barely fit together, but neither of them seemed to notice. She found herself impatient with his clothing, wanting to feel more of him, all of him, and she worked the buttons on his shirt as they kissed, rewarded with the heat of his chest under her hands as she slid it over his broad shoulders.
They rocked together, her pelvis into his, separated by his trousers and her panties. She couldn’t concentrate on anything but the growing friction and heat between her thighs, but Griff’s focus was further up, raining kisses over her cleavage as he worked the hooks on her bra. He groaned when her breasts spilled free into his waiting hands, his tongue making delicious circles around the dark coins of her nipples.
Mae gasped and squirmed, arching toward him for more. She’d never felt anything so good and she couldn’t get enough, burying her hands in the thick waves of his hair. When he kissed his way down further, his tongue dipping briefly into her navel, she sighed in disappointment, wanting more of his mouth on her breasts, but then he settled himself between her thighs and, to her surprise, buried his face between them.
“Griff!” she gasped, flushing with embarrassment, but there was no stopping him. He groaned as he pulled her panties aside, spreading her thighs wide with his big hands, leaving her totally exposed. She threw an arm over her eyes, hiding from her own shame, as his tongue delved deep into her cleft.
It took just moments for her to melt into liquid pleasure all over the bed, giving into the pressing flutter of his tongue. The feeling was incredible, beyond anything she could have hoped for even on the nights she’d rolled restlessly around in her bed dreaming of him, twisting the sheets between her thighs and rocking into the sensation. She couldn’t have imagined anything like this, so soft and wet and sweet, a dizzying thrill with every pass of his tongue.
“Oh!” she cried, her thighs trembling under his hands. “Oh! Oh! What—?”
Something was happening. The world was tilting, coming to an ecstatic end right there between her legs, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Not only that, but she didn’t want to, she admitted shamefully, grabbing a handful of Griff’s hair and crying out with her pleasure as she shoved him hard against her flesh, grinding her hips up to meet the velvety lash of his tongue.
“Oh my god!” she gasped as he kissed his way up her belly, pulling her quivering body to his, holding her close. “What was that?”
He chuckled, kissing the top of her head. “What did it feel like?”
“An earthquake,” she panted, feeling the hot steel of his cock pressed against her hip. Curious, she slid her hand down to rub it and heard his sharp intake of breath.
“I would move heaven and earth for you if I could,” he whispered, rocking against the press of her hand.
“You did,” she breathed, daring to unzip him. “You do.”
“Oh Mae.” He pressed his forehead to hers, eyes closed, when she found him, stiff and engorged, far larger than she had imagined. She touched him tentatively, her fingers brushing the tip appearing over the V of his zipper. “Here.” He took her hand in his, wrapping it around the length and guiding her movement up and down.
“Like that?” she inquired, breathless, watching the look on his face, pleasure almost to the point of pain, as she stroked him.
“Oh yes,” he agreed, leaning back on the bed and lifting his hips to give her better access. “Just like that.”
She leaned on her elbow, moving him in her fist, watching the head of his cock play peek-a-boo with his foreskin as she began to pump a little faster. He bit his lip and thrust into her hand, matching her rhythm.
“Does it feel good?” she asked, thrilled at the way he groaned in response, arching up to meet her. She hoped she was making him feel half as good as he’d made her feel with his tongue, and then a very naughty thought occurred to her. Irene had told her about petting with her boyfriend at summer camp, about all the things they’d done before she lost her virginity, and one of those things had been to put his cock into her mouth.
Mae remembered being appalled and a little horrified at the time, but also more than a little curious, too. What did it feel like? She noticed the head of his cock getting wet as she stroked him, leaking at the tip. What did it taste like?
“Mae!” Griff cried out in surprise when she leaned over and kissed the head of his cock, licking her lips and tasting the tangy, peppery liquid.
“Is it okay?” she asked, lightly licking around the head, exploring the ridges with her tongue. He threw his head back with a low growl as she sucked just the tip.
“Mae, wait,” he gasped, tilting up her chin and rubbing her mouth with his thumb. “It feels too good. I can’t stand it.”
“Too good?” she smiled. “Is there such a thing?”
He chuckled. “No. But I want to be inside of you, remember?”
“Yes.” She felt a shiver of fear at the thought. “But…”
“It’s all right.” He slid out his wallet, finding the packet and ripping it open. “We’ll be safe.”
She helped him slide his trousers all the way down, undoing her garters and rolling her stockings down her thighs as she watched him slip the condom on. Wiggling her panties off, she spread herself like a sacrifice, squeezing her eyes shut and waiting.
Griff moved between her thighs and she winced, gripping his upper arms as he poised himself above her. She expected him to do it quick, but he took his time, kissing her neck, nibbling at her ear, distracting her from her own fear. When his mouth reached her nipples, she whimpered, unable to concentrate on anything but the sweet sensation of wet tongue tracing hot circles around and around.
A fire was burning again between her legs and she begged him to quench it somehow, calling his name as she bucked under his weight, wrapping her legs around him tight. She felt the hard length of him against her thigh and she stiffened for a moment, gasping.
“Easy,” he urged, kissing her softly, his tongue exploring as he pressed her thighs open further with his own. She cried out against his mouth when he entered her, a brief, searing moment of pain paralyzing her in his arms. He kissed her cheek, her throat, whispering her name over and over, not moving inside of her.
“Was that it?” she whispered, turning her face up to his, unable to really believe that she’d done it, she had given herself to him.
“That was the worst part.” He kissed her forehead. “Now comes the best part.”
Mae shivered as he began to move inside of her, his hips circling gently. The sensation was strange at first—she felt full to bursting with him—but the more they rocked together, the easier it became to open up and accept him. His cock throbbed between her legs, his breath coming in hard, hot pants against her ear, and she clung to him with all her might.
“Mae,” he whispered, his voice catching. “Oh god sweetheart, you feel so good. I can’t hold back.”
“Yes,” she urged, closing her eyes and lifting her hips to meet his, grinding her pelvis, feeling him move deep inside her. “Yes! Yes!”
He groaned and gave into it, shoving himself in deep and shuddering with pleasure on top of her. She held him close, cradling his head against her breasts as he cried out and buried his face there, his whole body tense with his climax.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, collapsing onto her. She took his weight with a happy sigh, wrapping herself around him. She knew she should have felt ashamed at giving him her virtue, remorseful, even contrite, but she wasn’t. In fact, she didn’t remember ever being happier. “Are you all right?”
“I’m perfect.” She smiled and brushed his hair tenderly out of his eyes.
“Stay with me.” He sighed and closed his eyes, nestled between her breasts. “Don’t leave me, Mae.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” She lifted his palm and kissed it, giggling. “You know, when you got down on your knees in my living room, I thought…” She laughed again, shaking her head.
“What?” He lifted his head to look at her. “What did you think?”
She flushed, admitting, “I thought you were going to propose.”
“And what if I had?”
She couldn’t tell if he was serious, but she shrugged and smiled. “I don’t even know your last name.”
“It’s Griffon.” He pressed his cheek to her breast again. “My first name is George.”
“Mrs. Mae Griffon,” she murmured.
He was quiet for a moment, and then he said, “It has a ring to it.”
Mae felt a little thrill up her spine at his words, closing her eyes and stroking his damp hair. “Yes, it does,” she whispered, but he was already asleep.