“Hey, did you mean to book three dates with me this week?” She called as soon as she let herself in, heading toward the restroom to pee and wash her hands. Based on the smell and sounds coming from the kitchen, he was making dinner. When she walked past the living room, she was surprised to see Eli sitting in the armchair, reading a book with about as much interest in the world around him as the potted tree in the corner. If he was surprised that they were meeting three times that week, he kept it to himself. Bemused, she continued to the kitchen.
“Isn’t that what you usually do?” He asked when she came into sight. “Three dates a week?”
“I didn’t think you heard me.” He’d made fajitas; as soon as he slid the bowl of meat and vegetables in front of her she started picking out choice bits with her fingertips.
“Here,” he told her, shoving a warmer full of tortillas at her. She reluctantly stopped cherry-picking and began to construct her dinner. He rolled toward the living room with a loaded plate on his lap and one of the beers left from their first “date” between his knees.
He was back after an indistinct exchange of masculine joviality with Eli. Starving and not wanting to begin without him, she’d made a plate for him to pass the time.
“Drink?” He offered. She looked hopefully toward the coffee pot, and he looked reluctantly toward the cups, the spoon, the fridge, his food…
“Apple juice?” He suggested, like it wasn’t the official beverage of childhood. She laughed.
“Apple juice sounds great.” She laughed harder when he put an actual juice box in front of her.
“What?” He asked, feigning hurt. “It’s the good kind. And the big boxes no less. See? Six point five ounces.” She popped the straw in.
“It’s delicious,” she agreed. “I love it. I don’t think I’ve had apple juice from a juice box since foster care.” She had been about to take a bite, and she stuffed the fajita into her mouth to shut herself up. Please don’t ask, she thought. Please. His interest did look piqued, but he dug into his plate without commenting. Eli brought his plate to the kitchen, washed it quickly and left again, earbuds in.
Karin raised her eyebrows curiously. Eli hadn’t stayed before.
“He made the food,” Rick joked. “I told him I wanted to impress you.” He winked and started clearing the table. Unsure of how to help, she took over the dishes.
“I am impressed,” she told him, “whether you or he cooked it. It was good.” They finished their respective tasks without saying anything else, and he started coffee.
“I’ve been a bit… off, today,” he admitted truthfully. “I wanted to see you but I was afraid I’d have a seizure or something. Eli offered to stay and it seemed like a good idea.” She wasn’t sure what to say, biting her lip uncomfortably.
“Are you alright?” Karin didn’t know enough about his condition to know what him not being alright, would entail.
“Yeah,” he said, though his hand was a little unsteady when he poured sincan escort the cream. “I’ll probably be fine once I’m more heavily medicated,” he hinted, tipping his chin toward the tray sitting on the counter. She sat on a barstool and pulled it toward herself.
“Three?” she asked. “Four?”
“More,” he rhymed sincerely. “I like it when you leave a couple rolled for me.” She smiled affectionately.
“If you weren’t feeling well we could have skipped this,” she paused to run the tip of her tongue along the glue. “Apparently you’re going to see me tomorrow anyway.” She handed him the first joint to light, while she rolled half a dozen more. Lucky seven, she thought.
“This is what I need,” he said, exhaling. She wasn’t sure if he meant the weed, or her company, or…
“Not sex,” he told her, passing. “Just, you. You make me feel… sane.” She was grateful to have the chance to hide her blush in the smoke.
“E?” He called randomly into the living room, startling her. She was afraid he was having some crisis she hadn’t noticed. Eli sidled in and accepted the joint nonchalantly, still tuned into his earbuds.
“I didn’t think he smoked,” she murmured, still rolling.
“He’s off-duty,” Rick said with a half-shrug and a grin. Eli smoked silently while she rolled the last two joints and brushed her fingertips clean. Hitting it one last time, he passed it back to Rick, hooking one finger in the wire to pull the earbud out of his left ear.
“Can you do a blunt too?” He asked, nodding toward the tray. She blushed just slightly, he hardly ever spoke to her.
“Yeah,” she smiled, nodding. “I can, but my roommate Angie is even better. She taught me,” she told him honestly. He raised an impressed eyebrow at Rick and replaced the earbud, smiling a silent retreat to the living room. Rick rolled his eyes.
“He always says he wants a fat blunt for his birthday. I tell him I don’t know how to roll them, and buy him a stupidly expensive one because he deserves it anyway, and he acts like I bought him a Camaro and won’t even share it with me, because he has to save it.” She loved Rick’s laugh, he sounded so legitimately happy.
“Let’s go onto the balcony,” he invited. “The coffee is done, I was afraid I’d drop it, to tell the truth,” he said shyly. “It’s probably cold by now,”
It was nothing the microwave couldn’t fix, and she told him so. She carried both cups, and he got the door for them.
They were halfway through the second joint before he was brave enough to lift his cup from the patio table and take a drink, thanking God he didn’t pour it all over himself.
“Are you going to tell me why you booked all my dates this week?” Great, so she was going to make him choke on it instead.
“Because… I want to see you,” he croaked, wiping his mouth.
“So you’re going to pay like 900 dollars for one weekend? That’s dumb. I’ve already said you should cancel the service and we’ll just hang out. For free.”
“It’s more like twelve, ankara escort with the fees,” he admitted, fighting a smile. “It’s fine, though.”
“It’s not,” she argued stubbornly. “What now? You’re broke and I’m not going to see you at all for the next three weeks?”
“I’m not broke, it’s fine. Stop worrying.” She slumped in her chair and eyed him dubiously. “Well I don’t know what the hell you’re thinking, but I have to cancel the one on Sunday morning. That’s not for you.”
“What the fuck does that mean, not for me?” he challenged, feeling combative.
She rolled her eyes and snatched the lighter from the place he’d set it. “It’s a fucking tee time,” she snapped back, torn between anger and amusement.
“A tea party?” He asked, incredulous.
“No, a tee time. Like, golf.”
“You golf?” No less incredulous. She laughed at him and passed him the joint, temper cooling.
“Not at all,” she confessed. “Arther doesn’t care for the caddies at the country club. He says if he’s going to spend the morning with a girl, she better have tits. He’s a little homophobic,” she allowed, fairly.
“You’re a caddy? You, caddy?” If anything, more incredulous. She laughed again.
“I do. I have vest and a hat and everything. Apparently women are uniquely qualified to drive on golf courses because there are no lanes, and no signals,” she informed him. “I hand him his clubs too, but since both of us only know the putter and the nine-iron, that part is easy.” Now Rick was ready to laugh.
“And that’s all?” She grimaced, giggling.
“Well, there is my regular golf lesson on the ninth hole, ‘because a gentleman always lets the lady finish’. Then we have breakfast, and his grandkids pick him up on their way home from church.”
“He sounds like a creep,” assessed Rick, but he was still laughing.
“Arther is sweet,” she protested. “He’s harmless.” He was holding the joint but it was out, so she slid the lighter to him. “He’s also my top-paying client, and I actually like hanging out on the golf course on Sunday mornings. It’s really pretty and green, there are cute bunnies and Arther is slow as fuck so I have plenty of time to enjoy all that.” They laughed together and he lit joint again.
“Okay, but promise me something.”
“After his grandkids pick him up, I want to see you in that caddy outfit.”
“I could send a picture when I’m getting ready…” she offered innocently. He shook his head, inhaling a puff of smoke.
“No, I want to see you in the flesh, in the caddy outfit. Then I want to see your flesh, out of the caddy outfit…”
“Ooh,” she murmured, letting him draw her around the table to sit on his lap.
“Oh, fuck, Rick!” She flailed and squirmed like bait on a hook, struggling in vain to slide herself away from him, stuck fast to the lacquered surface of the table with her own sweat.
He’d just dragged a third orgasm out of her and this time he wasn’t letting up. She twitched and jerked etimegut escort as every lap of his tongue sent aftershocks racing along her overworked pathways. “Mmm…aahh…guh… ayiii! Too much, oh my god!”
“That,” he said with satisfaction, sitting back and wiping his mouth, “is what it feels like.” She dropped her feet from the tabletop to rest on his thighs but otherwise stayed where she was, letting her breath come back and the fire in her nerves cool.
She’d casually called him ‘paralyzed’, which was apparently inaccurate. “I can feel,” he elaborated, idling stroking the inside of her knee and making eye contact over the length of her nudity. “and I have control, except it feels like these lightning bolts are constantly misfiring in my nervous system. I can remember what it feels like to stand, and walk, and run. But it’s like the signal breaks up, and my legs forget to keep supporting me-” he was interrupted by the sound of keys in the lock.
Karin’s eyes shot wide with alarm. To her knowledge she hadn’t been involved in very much adultery, but she burned with shame when she remembered being pushed out onto a fire escape, dress halfway on, and the sound of the window latch sliding into place. That date was a total loss, she hadn’t been paid and had to foot the cab ride out of pocket. Her only consolation was that the shoes she’d left behind almost certainly did the damage anyway. That had been less of a disappointment- they were cute but cheap, and they pinched. She’d cried on her barefoot trek home and left Chicago a few months later.
Rick’s mouth danced between amusement and concern. “I forgot Eli was going to bring lunch,” he broke into a grin, though he did regret her embarrassment. “Want me to tell him I’ve already eaten?” he raised his eyebrow provocatively at her lower body, still on display for him. Her mouth made a shocked O and she shoved at him with her foot, rolling off the table into an awkward stumble. They’d started in the living room- her clothes were right by the door.
He’d already spent far more than the necessary time jingling his keys and rattling the lock, he was going to have to open it eventually. Suppressing a laugh, Rick cleared his throat. “Ah, hang on a second, man,” he called. She was afraid he wouldn’t hear, but the rattling stopped instantly. There was no answer, just patient silence. “You can get dressed in my room,” he prompted, recalling her from her frozen state. She ran, snatching her clothes from the couch and darting for the bedroom while Rick went to let Eli in.
The main reason Rick had hired Eli full time from the nursing service that originally dispatched him, was his discretion. When the other man opened the door, Eli came in casually and said with an almost perfectly straight face that his key didn’t seem to be working properly and perhaps the lock needed some graphite. Rick had to suppress a giggle; he hadn’t been caught in the act since high school.
Eli’s face belayed a bit more amusement when he set his takeout bags down. Rick tracked his gaze, to where Karin’s panties lay on the coffee table.
“I was folding laundry,” Rick shrugged, claiming them. “Must have missed the basket. The lace makes me feel pretty.”