It’s a quiet drive back to my apartment. We stayed at the bar through wings and at least ten more karaoke songs. I think I ate slower than I ever have before. I tried to make the night last longer, but we had to leave eventually. Now that we’re almost back to my place, I’m starting to have a slight panic attack.
What am I going to do? He had to have been joking, right? I mean, he can’t actually want me to re-enact this chapter for him, can he?
We have been undressing each other on the phone for a week now, but just because Kasey had the confidence to let Penn watch her masturbate doesn’t mean I can do it. Is that what he wants? He’s almost exactly followed the book up until this point, and in a way, I guess he deserves this chapter for his effort. I could throw him a bone and give him the one scene he wants. But being naked while he watches from the door? I’m afraid I’d make a fool out of myself.
How did this work again? Kasey poured Penn a glass of wine and ended up spilling it all over her dress. She excused herself to change and Penn followed her to the bedroom. He watched her undress. She realized he was standing in the doorway and decided to give him a show. Oh fuck! Why did I have to write that chapter?
Fisher pulls the car alongside my apartment building. Is he going to park the car? What is he doing?
“This has gone on long enough. You have to know I was joking. I would never, ever ask that of you.”
I nod, but I can’t look at him. I’m too embarrassed. I’m not afraid to talk about sex. I’ve sat on panels at conferences and discussed sex scenes at great length. I’m not a prude. But somehow, talking about it in front of a bunch of women is really different than talking about it with one very attractive man.
“Greer, please look at me.”
I swing my head to face him. It might have looked effortless, but turning my head was as difficult as prying a piece of wood from a vice.
“What I said to you was crude and disrespectful.” He places his hand over his heart. “Please accept my apology. I thought you’d know I was kidding, but you’ve grown more and more distant ever since I opened my stupid mouth. I don’t want you to ever feel weird around me.”
“It’s just . . . well, I write a lot of stuff. I have a very vivid imagination. But I’m afraid my actual experience doesn’t measure up to any of my characters.”
“I think I finally understand how I’ve been making you feel. All this time you’ve been asking me to stop trying to be like Penn and I didn’t listen because in my mind, I thought I was doing exactly what you wanted. But now . . . now that I even hinted at you being like Kasey, I want to take back every uncomfortable thing I’ve ever done or said. I’m truly sorry.”
He’s so incredibly sincere. I can tell he feels awful. I don’t want him to feel bad. I just don’t know how to explain my fear of letting him down.
“Can we please forget I said anything? Go inside, crawl into bed, and focus on me not being a jerk. I’ll text you when I get home.”
“You want to go?” I ask, suddenly sad the night could be coming to an end.
He turns his body in the seat to face me more directly. “Don’t you want me to go?”
“Why would I want you to leave? It’s only eleven. Unless you have to get up early for work tomorrow?”
“I don’t have to be in until noon. Are you sure?”
“Sure I want you to come in and watch TV? Yes, I’m sure.”
He smiles brightly. “Did I mention how much I love watching TV?”
“I have a really nice setup. You should park the car and come see it.”
He seems relieved. Maybe he was just as nervous as I was. Nah. Look at him.
“Go inside. I’ll park the car and be up in a few minutes.”
I shut his car door and take the elevator to my floor. I start to text Luna. She’ll know what to do. I type, “I need your help. It’s an emergency,” before I decide not to send it. I know what she’s going to say. You made the hottest man in the world watch TV instead of letting him watch you undress? What the fuck is wrong with you? You’ve been talking about taking his clothes off all week and now when he’s in front of you, you’re going to chicken out?
She would be right. I unlock my door and walk inside. Placing my phone on the table, I lean my back on the door and try not to overthink everything.
A knock startles me out of my thoughts.
I open the door to Fisher, leaning one hand on the frame while the other hand holds his suit coat, draped over his shoulder. Did he pose this way or is this natural? He has to know how gorgeous he looks. Jesus Jones. “Right Here, Right Now” just took on a whole new meaning. And now I’m singing the song in my head.
“Come in, right now,” I say on accident, briefly closing my eyes as I internally berate myself.
He quickly steps through the door. “I really like your place. It’s a great neighborhood.”
“Yeah, I used to have a house, but Oliver got that in the divorce.” Ugh. Why did I say that?
“That really sucks. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I brought that up. Sometimes I rattle when I get nervous.”
“Hey,” he says, tossing his coat on my chair and taking my hand. “There’s absolutely nothing to be nervous about. I’m only here to see your TV.”
I point to the screen and he walks over to the couch. He’s here to see my TV. My Tanned Vagina? Toned Viagrasaurus? Tubed Vaseline?
“It’s a big one,” he says, motioning to the television set.
“That’s what she said.” Oh my God. I didn’t.
“Ha. I think that should have been my line.”
“I’m sorry. Ugh. I have sex on my brain.” I hit myself in the head.
He clears his throat and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Should we turn it on? The TV I mean.”
“Yes, please. See if you can find a church channel.”
He laughs as he kicks off his shoes and flops down on the sofa.
“Do you want something to drink?” I ask.
“Sure, what do you have?”
I open the fridge. “I have water, a half-gallon of milk, Dr. Pepper, and oh, wine!”
“Dr. Pepper sounds great.”
I close the fridge and imagine myself slamming my head in the door repeatedly. Of course he doesn’t want wine, you twat. You just told him there’d be no re-enactments tonight. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
“What did you say?”
Oh shit. I said that out loud. “Nothing. Just a second.”
“I couldn’t find mass for us to watch, but I did find CNN. That should be boring enough.”
Handing him the glass and the can, he places them on a coaster on my table. I sit down on the opposite side of the couch and he smiles at me. He crosses his ankles as he places them on the table and extends his arm along the back of the couch. His sleeves are still rolled to his elbow, and that, along with his arm being outstretched, makes his shirt even tighter in all the right places.
I scratch my head and blankly stare at the screen. After a minute, I pick a piece of lint off my shirt. This show is not doing a great job of distracting me. I notice the remote next to his foot. “Let’s see what else we can watch.”
The next few seconds seem to happen in slow motion in my mind. I reach out to grab the remote as he leans forward to grab his drink. My hand hits his hand, just as he picks up the glass. The glass wobbles in his grip before it slips, the brown liquid jumping out of the glass in response. The evil syrup stops mid-air to laugh at me and let me know it will make sure I’m mortified tonight one way or another. It purposefully wins Olympic records for farthest splash as it leaps onto the crotch of his jeans. He gasps as the cold liquid invades his private sanctuary. I see my aunt Rose’s face telling me to join the convent. I decide she was right.
And then time resumes its normal pace once again.
“Oh shit! I’m so sorry!” I run for the kitchen and quickly grab a dish towel.
He stands and I see the extent of my damage. I quickly take the towel and start dabbing the wet spot by his zipper.
“Um, why don’t you let me get that?” he asks.
I continue to dab the area. “I’m so sorry, I was reaching for the remote and I didn’t see you go for your drink.”
“Greer . . .”
I kneel down next to him as I focus on drying his pants. I flip the rag over to a dry spot and reach up to place my hand on his ass, so I can apply pressure. I don’t realize what I’m doing until I feel his jeans grow hard.
“Oh my God.” I look up to see his lips pressed in a firm line. He’s trying not to laugh.
And then I realize my hand is on his butt as I kneel next to his rock-hard dick. I immediately release him and hand him the towel as I stand. “Hi, my name is Greer. I’m an idiot. It’s nice to meet you.”
He laughs hardily as I sit down and hide my face in my hands.
“It’s fine. Really.”
“You’re soaking wet.”
“It’s not too bad, I think you, uh, got most of it. How do I look?” he asks, turning to face me.
I peek out through my fingers and gaze at the wet bulge in his pants. “You look like you peed yourself.”
“It’ll dry.”
His words give me an idea. “Take off your pants.”
“What?”
“Take them off. I’ll toss them in the dryer down the hall.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” I stand and hold my hand out to him.
He shrugs and starts to take off his belt. He’s halfway through the zipper when I realize I just asked him to get naked in my living room.
“Oh shit! Oh my God. Um, maybe you should go in the bathroom to do that.”
“I’m not shy.”
He tugs his jeans down his legs and I quickly turn my back to him.
“Here you go.”
I hold out my hand behind me and I feel the material touch my fingers, but I can’t grip it. I keep reaching for it, but I never get a hold of it. Looking over my shoulder briefly, I see he’s laughing.
“Dammit, Fisher. Just give me your pants.”
“Take them. I can’t help it you’re not reaching far enough.”
I try and fail once more before I’m forced to turn around. He’s standing in his boxers, package bulging. My eyes zero in on the bull’s-eye before I force them to the ceiling.
“Go get a towel out of the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
Walking down the hall, I toss them in the dryer and laugh. I make my way back to him and think, only me.
He’s standing by the doorway when I enter the room. No towel. “Couldn’t you find one?”
“You know, if you wanted to get me naked, all you had to do is ask.”
I place my hands on my hips. “I didn’t do that on purpose.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I swear I didn’t!”
“Okay, I believe you.” He shrugs.
“No, you don’t. Fisher, I’m telling you, I did not get your pants wet just so you’d have to strip down.”
“I know.”
“I mean it!” I shout.
“I was just joking. I know it was an accident, but I had to tease you. It’s kind of ironic, don’t you think?”
And now I’m singing Alanis Morissette’s “Ironic”. His words hit home and I remember my story and how Kasey ends up wet, not Penn.
“Now where’s that towel?” he asks.
“I’ll get it. Just a second.”
I walk down the hall toward the bathroom, stopping at the door and glancing back in Fisher’s direction. He’s great. I like him. I really like everything about him. Reaching for a towel on the shelf, something flips in my mind.
As I walk into my bedroom I feel different. I turn on the light in the closet, making sure to cast only a small glow in the room. Can I do this? Yes. Yes, I can.
I remove my sweater and toss it on the bed. I unzip my boots and remove them along with my jeans. I stand in the middle of my room in my shirt and underwear. It’ll have to do.
I think about my rubbing the towel on his pants and how hard he became when I touched him. I sigh as I think about placing my hand inside his shorts on the beach. I focus on what it felt like to have his dick in my hands and watch his face as he came.
I drag my fingers over the material of my blouse and grab ahold of my breast, imagining his hands on me instead.
“Greer? Are you okay?”
I hear him call me and know it’s only a matter of time before he comes looking for me. His footsteps down the hall are all the confirmation I need. I prop my leg up on the bed and close my eyes. I’m already wet and I want to do this for him. I want him.
I can sense his presence in the room, so I go ahead with my plan. I touch my nipples through my shirt and slowly trail my fingers down my stomach until I reach the edge of my underwear. Knowing he’s watching turns me on more than I ever dreamed it would. I push my hand into my underwear and I hear him moan lightly. Rubbing gently, I turn slightly to make sure he can see that I’m touching myself.
Confidence runs through my veins. I open my eyes and look directly at him as I touch myself. His eyes are fixed on me and the bulge in his boxers has grown.
I slide my underwear down my legs and toss it in his direction. Then I sit on the bed and open my legs to him as I begin to rub all the right places.
He watches me intently for a few seconds and then unbuttons his shirt. Oh yes. Finally. I want to feel him inside me. He drops his shirt on the floor and takes one step toward me, when I hear the front door open and slam against the wall.
“Greer? Are you hurt? Where are you?”
I jump from my place on the bed and rush over to the bedroom door, closing it halfway.
“I’m fine, Luna! Don’t come back here!”
I struggle to put my underwear on as she flies around the corner and down the hall.
“You can’t send a text like that and then not answer your . . . Oh . . . Um . . . Hi, Fisher.”
A normal person might turn around when they saw their best friend pulling up their underwear, but not Luna. She walks farther into the room and stares at Fisher now sitting on my bed.
She nods to him. “Hey, what’s up?”
He points to his crotch and sighs.
I push Luna out the door as she says, “I can see that.”
“What are you doing here?” I whisper shout.
“You texted me that you needed me. That it was an emergency. I tried calling you six times on my way over here. I don’t even remember how I got here I was so worried. Be happy it was me who showed up and not the cops. I thought of calling them, or maybe Marcus. I was worried your alarm failed or something.”
“I don’t set the alarm anymore. There’s no point. And I didn’t think I sent that text. I was going to ask for advice, but then I changed my mind.”
She rocks her hips. “I guess you figured out what I’d say from the looks of it.”
“Can you please go? I really can’t take any more humiliation tonight.”
She mouths “Call me” as she walks backward to the door. Then she shakes her hands in the air and mouths, “So hot!” right before she closes it behind her.
Fisher walks out of the bedroom wearing his shirt and a towel. “Aww, did she have to rush off like that?” he asks sarcastically.
“I’m so sorry!”
“For what? This has been one of the best nights of my life and more than I could have ever imagined.”
Rubbing my forehead with the back of my hand, I realize I’m still in my underwear. I suddenly feel uncomfortable. What did I just do? He must sense my insecurity because he removes his towel and hands it to me.
“I bet my jeans are dry. I should probably get going.”
I nod. “Give me a second.”
As I pull on my jeans in my bedroom, I cringe. Another day in the life of Greer Hanson. How will I ever look him in the eye again?