DECEMBER
Chapter 5
Playing racquetball with Carlos had led to this. One moment Amy had been lying in her bed attempting to sleep. The room was dark and warm despite the open window and cool breeze. The soft, high-thread count sheets her mother had gotten her last Christmas slid along her legs as she moved restlessly, finally turning to lie on her back.
She pictured Carlos the way he’d looked that afternoon. Hair, damp with sweat, stuck to his temples. His thin cotton shirt clung to rippling muscles on his chest and abdomen. Exposed biceps winked at her with each rough push of the racket through the air. And long legs, covered in a smooth shading of dark hair, flexed and relaxed as he moved fluidly around the court.
Amy’s hand, of its own accord, settled itself on her stomach, just above that curly shock of hair. In her mind she saw the moment when Carlos, sweaty and overheated, reached behind his head and pulled that white shirt clean off.
Her hand slipped further, down to the tiny nub she’d always known was there but had never had the inclination to touch. She teased it now, her mind floating over that exposed chest.
She kept her imagination focused on Carlos and his body, her fingers remained on that sweet spot between her legs until she felt the unfamiliar sensation of climbing, her body losing its connection to the bed beneath her, her mind unable to pull away from what was happening, her hand incapable of stopping that perfect pressure.
Amy cried out as what she only knew in theory as an orgasm ripped through her, causing her legs to tremble and her breathing to grow deep and heavy. Her brain spun for a long moment, before every muscle in her relaxed.
It was a few minutes before her shout made her worry. She listened hard to see if Marcel would come to investigate. It was after eleven and when she’d gone to bed he’d already been asleep, needing to get up at five to make his commute to work.
Marcel didn’t stir and Amy sat up in bed and switched on the lamp beside her. She remained still for another long moment, staring at the painting of a French girl in an alleyway that her Uncle Clint’s ex-wife, Cecile, had made out of a paint-by-numbers.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she picked up her cell phone and called YaYa.
“Amy? Everything all right?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. Did I wake you?”
“Not really. What’s going on?” YaYa asked, her voice distinctly groggy.
“I just, you know.”
“No. What?”
“I…you know, I took care of myself.”
“Are you trying to tell me you masturbated?”
Amy swallowed hard. “Um…yeah.”
Suddenly, YaYa was very awake. “Really? Oh my God! Did you…?”
“Yes.”
“Holy shit, Amy! This is huge! How did it happen? I mean, why? How?”
“I don’t know. I just felt like doing it and I did it,” Amy said, suddenly unsure why she’d felt the need to share this first.
“Oh my God! Dr. Heel would be doing a fucking happy dance right now.”
Amy laughed at that. Dr. Heel had been her psychologist all through high school and part of college and she’d tried desperately to find Amy’s sexuality.
“Maybe I’ll send her an email.”
“Seriously. What happened? Were you fantasizing?”
“Yes.”
“About a guy or a girl?”
Amy had to acknowledge that it was a little strange that at the age of thirty no one even knew which gender she’d be attracted to if she was attracted to someone.
“A guy. And I’m pretty sure I’m hetero. Yesterday I watched some TV show with Marcel and we talked in detail about how hot the lead actor was, and I wasn’t faking it.”
“Holy shit!” YaYa said again. “Where did this come from? Are you seeing someone?”
Amy knew she didn’t mean a date. She meant a shrink. “No. It was a real man who opened my world.”
“Whoa. Like a man you’ve…”
“No. Not really. I mean, I kind of kissed him. But not really.”
“Who is this guy?” YaYa asked.
“Well, that’s where it gets complicated.”
****
Carlos pulled his car in front of Amy’s apartment building. He parked and shifted in his seat. “I forgot to discuss the one thing I planned to go over with you during this session.”
They’d spent the afternoon shopping for Christmas gifts for his colleagues and employees. And while it sounded trite, it had actually been an exercise in diplomacy and professional relationships.
Carlos examined Amy’s face closely as she turned in her own seat and looked at him expectantly. “How have you liked your time in the finance department?” Before she could answer he added, “I know you are looking for the right career fit for you and I don’t want you to tell me a white lie just so you won’t hurt my feelings. I want to know how it was for you.”
She smiled sweetly at him and he felt it in his gut. “I think you have an amazing department and an amazing team. But you already know that. And I enjoyed the work. In fact, organizing all those numbers in big complicated rows on a spreadsheet was right up my alley. But, there was something missing for me. I can’t really put my finger on it. I only hope that when I find it, I’ll know it.”
He smiled at her. “You will.”
“I hope so. Because I’m running out of time.”
He waved his hand. “Nah. Some people are a lot older than you when they finally find their passion.”
“Maybe. Well, thanks for today.” She reached for the door handle.
“Wait.” Carlos felt desperate to keep her in the car. It made no sense, but he wasn’t done being near her yet. And he hated the feeling he always got when she left. “We should talk about next week.”
Amy settled back into the seat, folding her hands in her lap. “Sure.”
“It will be our last mentoring session.” A sense of loss filled him as he said the words. Their weekly outings had become precious time to him. He anticipated them as the best part of his week.
Amy stuck out her lower lip in an exaggerated pout. Carlos had to use all his willpower not to lean forward and pull that pink lip between his own. “I know.”
“I think you should pick our outing.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Anything you want.”
“Next Friday…” She pulled out her phone and tapped at it for a few moments while Carlos waited patiently. “I want to go to a hockey game.”
“You like hockey?”
“I love it. Don’t you?”
“Sure…wait…please tell me you’re a Sharks fan.”
Amy grinned and nodded.
“Thank God. I was worried you would show up in a Ducks shirt.”
“Nope,” she said, chuckling. “I will be there in my Thornton jersey. But I do have a requirement.”
“What’s that?”
“We need to take some kids.”
“Kids? Like just rent some for the day?”
“I don’t know. But hockey games are best with kids.”
There was something so deeply right about what she was saying that it hit him square in the chest. “I can get kids.”
“Good.” She pushed the car door open. “See you on Monday.”
And then she was gone, striding up the walk to her door, leaving him with that familiar empty feeling.