Egomaniac

“Looks like I picked the wrong day to be out of the office.”

Emerie had slipped off her coat, revealing a slinky little black dress. She smiled. Damn. I’d spent the cab ride home last night convincing myself that kiss was for her own good. I was helping her. It wasn’t because she was beautiful and smart and couldn’t play pool for shit, yet didn’t complain once when I brought her to a pool hall. It was because Professor Putz needed a little incentive to make his move. I’d almost convinced myself, too.

But it had been eating at me all day. What if I’d spurred the dope to finally act and then primed the pump for him, too? Emerie had melted into me with that kiss. I felt her body surrender, heard that little sound she made, and knew she felt it like I did. The engine was all fired up and ready to run. For that fucker.

My deposition should have wrapped in four hours today. Yet it took me almost twice that because of my lack of focus. Then tonight, I called Yvette and canceled the date we’d made a month ago. Yvette, the flight attendant who didn’t want a commitment and hummed a sweet tune while she gave a blowjob. The woman was bachelor gold.

“I was supposed to go out and had a change of plans,” Emerie said.

I nodded. “Come eat. Your moo shu is getting cold.”

She sat in one of the guest chairs on the opposite side of the desk. “This looks like a lot of food. Is someone else joining us?”

“You took a while to respond, so I ordered some extra stuff in case you were still here. Wasn’t sure if you liked chicken, beef, or shrimp, so I got one of each. Guy on the phone barely spoke English. When I called back to add your pork, I figured it was easier to just add to the order than try to change it.” I slid a takeout container across the desk to her. “No plates. No forks. Hope you can eat with chopsticks.”

“I sort of suck at chopsticks.”

I thumbed toward the ceiling. “You can go upstairs and get a fork from my place, if you want. But I haven’t eaten since six a.m., so you’re on your own with that.”

She smiled and ripped the paper off the chopsticks. “I’ll deal. But no making fun of me.”

It wasn’t an easy task. The woman had two left chopsticks. She dropped more than she got into her mouth. But the two of us quickly established an unspoken system. Every time she dropped a piece of pork on the way to her lips, I’d smirk, and she’d squint at me. It was as much fun as tossing insults her way, but half the effort.

“So what happened with Professor Putz last night?”

She sighed and sat back in her chair. “Nothing. He asked me to go out to dinner tonight to make up for canceling on me last night.”

I froze with my chopsticks halfway to my mouth. “He bailed on you again tonight?”

“Not this time. I actually bailed on him.”

I shoved a shrimp in my mouth. “Nice. Getting even. How’d it feel?”

A smile spread across her beautiful face. “Pretty damn good, actually.”

“So that’s why you’re all dressed up?”

She nodded. “We were supposed to go to some fancy restaurant for my belated birthday dinner. He came to my apartment to pick me up, and I overheard him talking on his cell to Rachel saying he was going over there after dinner.”

“So you got jealous and canceled?”

“Actually no. I got annoyed at myself. I’ve spent the better part of three years taking whatever scraps I was offered from a man who’s never going to see me as anything more than a friend and neighbor. I deserve better than that.”

I couldn’t agree more. “Damn right you do.”

She sighed. “I need to move on.”

I picked up a shrimp with my sticks and offered it to her. “Shrimp?”

“Okay. But put it in my mouth, or you’ll have a trail of sauce all across your desk by the time I get it in.”

I arched a brow. “I’ll gladly put it in your mouth. Open wide.”

She laughed. “You can turn something so innocent into something dirty.”

“It’s a gift.”

I moved my offering closer, and her beautiful mouth opened so I could feed her. When her lips closed around my sticks, I felt it straight down to my cock. I imagined my own wood sliding in, being swallowed by her perfectly painted lips. The taste of the shrimp hit her tongue, and her eyes closed as she appreciated the deliciousness. At that point, I needed to readjust my pants. Again.

I swallowed, watching her swallow. “When was the last time you actually had sex?”

She coughed, almost choking on a piece of shrimp this time. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me right. Sex. When was the last time you had it?”

“You already know my history. I haven’t had a relationship in almost a year.”

“You meant a sexual relationship? I assumed when you said that, you meant you hadn’t dated anyone consistently in that long.”

“I haven’t.”

“You do know that not all relationships need to be more than sexual?”

“Of course I know that. But I need more than just a one-night stand.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Off the top of my head, I need to feel safe with the person. I need to be physically attracted to them. We need to be able to get along after the act, and I need to feel like I’m not being taking advantage of—that our relationship, whatever it is, isn’t one-sided. If it’s purely sex, that’s okay, but we both need to have that understanding.”

I nodded. “Those are all fair.” By that point, I’d pretty much lost my mind. Which would explain how my next thought made its way from my brain and shot right out through my lips. “How do I apply for the job?”

“The job?” She actually seemed confused. I thought I was pretty damn clear.

“Of sexual partner. I think we should have sex.”