9
Date night
[Hank]
Midge’s house is in the San Gabriel area, which is a far cry from our Pasadena shop even though the burbs are near one another. The two-story, yellow-sided home with a bay window looks like something out of a movie. Its petite size fits Midge, but the sunny color doesn’t fool me. Midge is a complicated woman on the verge of a sexual rebirth yet struggling with her confidence. I recognize this because she’s exactly like me.
After what we did in Brut’s office, we sort of fell apart. My mind caught up with me. Thoughts of Kit clouded my judgment and dulled my immediate reaction to the powerful orgasm this little lady gave me. Images of Kit flipped through my mind—her pleasure in bringing me to my knees, knowing I’d give her whatever she wanted once she got what she wanted from me. The memory momentarily steamrolled the moment with Midge. I needed a minute to get my head straight, and I lost Midge in the meantime.
To make it up to her, I ask her out on a date that’s over the top for me, taking the advice of my twenty-one-year-old nephew. Watershed Rice is one of the fanciest Thai restaurants in the city, and I dress in my old suit, hoping to impress Midge. She isn’t some rocker chick; she’s a lady. Standing in my office with her fuck-me pumps, a tight red skirt, and an innocent white shirt, she looked like a piece of candy, and I wanted to lick her all over. However, the grease on my hands is a reminder that I’m well under her league. At one point in my life, I might not have given someone like Midge a thought, but now, she’s all I think about. I’m not being a snob; I just mean Midge is too clean for who I once was.
Nerves rattle me as I cross the walk up to the front door. We talked during the week, and she told me how her boys would be spending spring break with their father in Santa Barbara. She’s stressed about finding a new job, and I want to distract her for one night. Knocking on the door, I swipe at my forehead, rolling my shoulders to loosen the tension.
When Midge opens the door, my breath catches. She’s another delicacy, draped in black lace, and I want to skip dinner, rip off the dress, and get to dessert.
“Hey,” she says sweetly, leaning against the door.
“You’re fucking beautiful.” The compliment blurts out without thought, and she pinks. I want that blush. I want the sweet color all over her body where I can chase the outline. My dick rocks to life. Fuck, I need to calm down. I already whacked off before coming here, hoping it would relieve the pressure, but just the sight of her looking at me like she does has me wound and ready again.
“Are those for me?” I forgot about the flowers in my hand, another suggestion from my nephew. I never buy flowers. Kit thought they were weak compensation. Her father sent flowers, and she threw them away. Her ex-husband sent them as an apology when he fucked up again. Managers, lawyers, other industry members…all sent flowers to congratulate her, but she didn’t like the message they lacked. She wanted words.
Standing before me, glowing like night fauna, Midge reaches for the flowers I offer, draws them to her nose to inhale, and looks up at me under lowered lids. It’s sexy as fuck, and I plan to trace her body later with those petals. “I love wildflowers.”
She means it. She gestures for me to enter, and I follow her as she leads to her kitchen for a vase.
“This is a nice place,” I say for something to say. I’m not noting any one thing, other than the layout is open, simple, and bright like Midge. The kitchen has a huge island and a large table for six. She fills a vase with water and puts the flowers in the center of the table.
“Thank you,” she says, looking up at me. Biting the corner of her lip, I’m ready to ask her if we can skip dinner when she suggests, “Should we go?”
+ + +
When we arrive at Watershed Rice, we find there are no seats. Literally. You sit cross-legged on the floor to enjoy your meal. I’m a big guy. I can’t sit on the floor like that. I’ve already unbuttoned my suit, swiped my forehead a thousand times, and shifted in the stiff fabric of my shirt which clings to my skin.
“Are you all right?” Midge asks me as we wait to be seated. A waitress nears the lobby with a tray of unidentifiable, bite-size food.
“I’m good.” I pause, redirecting my attention to the hostess. “What was that?” It looks like it still had eyes, antennas, and legs. I don’t even listen to her answer as I wipe a hand over my hair.
“Hank?” Midge glances up at me, shifting her gaze worriedly from one eye to the other. Her shoulders fall. “Let’s go someplace else.”
“No, this is fine. This is good. It’s the best place in LA.” I sigh. I had to pull strings I didn’t like to pull to get my name on the list with only a week’s notice.
“Hank,” she admonishes. “Please. Let’s leave.” Her fingers tighten on my suit coat, and I curse myself for ruining the evening before it even starts. Her eyes roam my face. “You’re sweating like crazy. Either you’re sick or you don’t want to be here.”
She’s right. I don’t want to be here, but I want to be with her. Embarrassed, I slip my hand on her lower back and guide her out the door. I don’t even know what to say. Apologizing wouldn’t be enough. I help her into Brut’s SUV and take a deep breath as I round the back of the vehicle.
“Dammit.” I slap at the back door in my frustration. Trying to tame my temper, I slowly shut the driver’s door, so I don’t slam it. We sit in silence as I push the ignition button. I’m not ready to move. “Look, I’m—”
“Tell me something about you. Anything.” The gentle command startles me, and I twist toward Midge to find her body turned in my direction. She toys with the hem of her pretty lace dress, and I’m crushed because she didn’t get to show it off in the restaurant.
“I never wanted to fix cars.” Her eyes shoot up to mine, and she waits for more. “My pop owned Restored Dreams. He thought all those rich dicks…sorry”—I swipe over my hair—“rich and famous wouldn’t know how to care for the expensive toys they owned. He counted on it, and in many ways, he was right.”
“What did you want to be?”
“A musician.” I don’t really want to have this conversation, and I nervously tap the steering wheel. “A drummer, actually.”
“That’s my Ronin.” She smiles with pride. Her kid isn’t actually anything like me. He plays percussion in the high school marching band, but that wasn’t me. I was the kid with a kit in the back of the garage, banging away to piss off my dad.
“What about you? Did you always work in graphic designs?”
“I did. Back in Chicago, I worked for a large advertising agency until I had the boys. Then I stayed home for a few years. When we moved here, I went back to work. California is expensive.”
“Do you miss Chicago?” I ask, recalling how much I loved visiting the Windy City once upon a time.
“Not as much as I first did.”
“Why did you move here?”
“Paul, my ex-husband, got a transfer. He thought it would be good for our family. Our marriage.” Her eyes drift toward the windshield, and she chews at her lip. “Obviously, the marriage didn’t survive the move.”
“But you did,” I say, raising a brow at her. “You’ve been successful in your own right, with your job and your boys.”
“The job I used to have.” She scoffs.
“You’re just moving on again, that’s all. Change is difficult but sometimes necessary.” She stares at me a moment.
“Is that why you don’t drink?”
“Definitely a necessary change.” She pauses, again waiting, but this is not something I want to discuss when I’ve already ruined our date. “But I don’t want you to worry about me. I’m in a better place now. Much better.” My eyes scan her body and I shift my shoulders. The suitcoat constricts me.
“Take that off.” The sharpness of her tone surprises me, and my head swivels back in her direction.
“Excuse me?”
“You look incredibly uncomfortable. Why are you dressed like this if you weren’t happy wearing your suit?” She nods at my suit.
“I’m fine wearing it.”
“You are not.” She chuckles sarcastically. “You look miserable. You’ve been sweating all night, which leads me to think you’re either too warm or terribly nervous.” She stops, her eyes blinking. “Are you nervous?”
I swipe a hand down my face. “I’m not nervous. I’m just…” I don’t know what. Fuck it, I am nervous and overheated. I don’t date. I don’t know how to do these things. I twist as I struggle to remove my suitcoat.
“Much better,” Midge teases, her brown eyes shimmering lighter.
“Your eyes are so pretty.”
“You’re pretty,” she mutters, her focus on my chest. She leans over the console and loosens my tie enough to slip it from the collar.
“Midge?”
“Getting closer.” She unbuttons the top button of my shirt. Then the second button. Her fingers slip into the opening she’s created. Her fingertips tickle over coarse hair just under my collarbone. “I like this hint of hair.”
I reach for her hand and lift it to my lips, kissing her fingertips. I need a breath. My dick hardens with her touch, and I don’t want to wreck what we have going in the front seat. I like her talking to me.
She kicks off her heels, kneels in her seat, and reaches for my wrist. After unbuttoning the cuff, she then rolls back the white material, continuing to fold until the sleeve is short enough to press over my elbow. Stretching over my lap, she does the same thing to my other sleeve.
“You undressing me?” I exhale with a smile. She’s so close to me, nearly sitting on my lap. My fingers itch to outline her, and I reach for the neckline of her dress. Dipping my finger inside the lace, I trace over her collarbone. Her eyes flit up to mine, then she leans forward and kisses me. Sweet, gentle, sugary. Even without icing, she’s delicious, and I like how she takes her time to savor me. She outlines my lips, drawing them into hers as she sucks on the lower one and nips at the corners.
“I like how you kiss me,” I murmur against her lips, taking over, diving in with my tongue to bring her closer to me. My arms wrap around her, pulling her awkwardly to me. The console still separates us too much. Her little hand curls around my neck, her thumb slipping down to rub those chest hairs. Our mouths continue to meld together until I’m overheating for a new reason. “Keep this up and we won’t be leaving this car.”
She purrs in response against my mouth, not letting up on the kisses. I return my attention to her lead, allowing her to devour me, but my dick strains, and my leg twitches. I’m on the verge of breaking, ready to drag her into the back seat and turn this into a teenage thing. I want to do tonight right, though, which involves dinner first. Slowing the pressure to gentle kisses, she whimpers when I retreat.
“I promised you a date.” I pull back. “I don’t want to imply any other expectations.” Her head hangs, but I tip up her chin. Her brows pinch, but I don’t want strain there and I kiss the crease.
“I don’t need fancy dinners, Hank. I appreciate the gesture, I really do, but not if you’re uncomfortable with it.” She’s misunderstanding me, yet I can’t explain. I don’t know how to date someone like her.
“I want to be with you.” The words tumble forth before I can catch them. It’s true, but it sounds desperate. Maybe I am desperate. I want her to like me for me; although I can admit, I’m not much of a package. “How about a hamburger?”
A small smile graces her face with the invitation. She slowly sits back, righting her dress. My hand covers her knee, wanting to keep contact with her. Her skin is cool, smooth, and tempting, and my fingers spread, disappearing under the lacy edge.
“You keep that up, and we’re headed for the back seat.” Her head tilts to the side, and I break into laughter.
“God, little lady. You’re something.” She softly grunts, twisting in the seat to face the windshield again. I’m not certain she likes the compliment. “Don’t want to be something?”
“One day, I’d like to be somebody’s someone.” Her voice softens, sadness filling her tone, but wide eyes reveal her surprise at the personal honesty. “Forget I said that out loud. Yes, let’s go for a burger. There’s a diner near my house that’s pretty good.”
“A diner.” I swallow, my mouth already watering as I ignore the twist in my gut. Somebody’s someone. I like the sound of that, but I’ll admit I don’t want her to someone else’s somebody. I want her for me. There’s so much more I want to know about her. I’m hungry for everything about her, but I think we need to eat.