Room 702 (49 page)

 
“Think I’ll leave my shoes on,” she says, now recovered and confidently stepping across the suite in three inch heels, moving towards the bedroom.

 
He is at her side in a matter of moments, shedding his shirt along the way.
 
There is a burst of male pride as he watches the look of appreciation cross her face when he joins her.
 
The hours committed to the gym have been worth it.

“Come here,” he says softly, laying her softly down on the bed, quite the opposite to the rush when they first entered the room.
 
In response, she lowers her eyes, takes the foil from his hand, unwraps the package and gently slides the latex over his penis.
 
As she does, Michelle wonders if this is actually happening.
 
Can craving someone enough produce a unbelievably realistic sex dream?
 
And yet, there are too many details for this to be a dream.
 
The smell she associates with him, Aqua di Gio, wafts over her.
 
The stubble from his facial hair scratches at her face.
 
Her lips – too swollen.
 
The luxurious bedding slides beneath her body.
 

 
“You’re beautiful,” Keith says, removing first her bra and then the scrap of lace parading as underwear.
 
His voice lost, Keith joins her on the bed, resting on his muscular forearms above her.
 
She’s as soft as he imagined she would be, as willing, as passionate.
 

 
As he enters her, the connection is just as she’s always imagined.
 
Charged on flirtation and sexual tension of months, Keith doesn’t last as long as he would prefer.
 
Keith shudders over her, roaring her name.
 
He breathes heavily, then rolls aside.
 
Silence fills the room.
 
 
For two people who have shared as intimate an act as they have, for two co-workers who have worked late nights on accounts together, the silence stretches.
 

Michelle, having only a limited number of prior sexual partners, and never having done anything so reckless as getting intimate without so much as a date previously, mentally relives what’s just taken place, committing each movement to memory, in case it never happens again.

Nowhere close to satiated, Keith wants more.
 
He wants to take her into the shower and clean every inch of her.
 
He wants to bring her back to the bed and see what else her wonderfully pliant body is capable of.
 

For the first time in years, he wants to be late to work.

In fact, if she’s willing, he would prefer to spend the rest of the week in this bed, only taking time to eat and maybe not even then.

Even after thinking all of these wonderful thoughts, before he can actually process what he’s saying, he mumbles, “Just so you know, I wasn’t trying to take advantage of you.”

Michelle tenses and sits up immediately.
 
Of all the things she expected Keith to say, this statement is perhaps among the worst.
 
From the moment they entered the room, to the half second before their lips met, she had prepared herself for the worst.
 
She knew him.
 
She knew he wouldn’t want a distraction, which is what she thought he thought this would be.
 
She knew he didn’t date.
 
She knew if he was dating, it certainly wouldn’t be with someone from the office.

“You weren’t.”

In a calculated move, she gets out of bed and wills herself to walk calmly, and completely naked to the bathroom, still in her heels.
 
Let him see what he’ll be missing.
 
She wonders why he rented this room in the first place.
 
Was he planning on taking someone up here?
 
Or was he so responsible, he booked this room so he wouldn’t have to drink and drive?
 
Neither of them had been so wasted as to blame what just happened on alcohol.
 
In planning her actions before the party, if her opportunity was to come around once a year, Michelle wasn’t going to waste it by being sloppy drunk.
 
She had sipped champagne and when others had turned to shots, she had politely declined.
 
Keeping an eye on Keith throughout the evening, she had noticed he had limited himself to three scotch and sodas, not enough to throw off a six foot four inch man.
 

He follows her in to the bathroom and asks, “Isn’t that what they’re going to say?”

“How are ‘they’ going to know anything?
 
Do you think I’m going to run downstairs and tell everyone, ‘I just got thoroughly fucked by Keith Drake?’”

“No, I didn’t think you were going to do that.”

She looks away, then splashes water on her face and looks back.
 
Hands on her still naked hips, she says, “I think you’re somehow over thinking what just happened between us.”

“How do you figure?” Keith asks.
 
He’s frustrated at himself for his comment, angry he has no control over the situation and pissed off at parts of his body, which are on the verge of betraying him.

“If you fuck like you work, then you’re already being too serious.”

Keith puts his hands up in a T formation and says, “Time out.
 
Can we go back a few minutes?
 
Before I said anything?
 
Back when we were together?
 
Because, in case you didn’t realize it, I really liked that part.”

“Back to when you were, when? ‘Taking advantage’ of me?”

“Before then.
 
When we entered the room, I should’ve…
 
There are any number of other things I should’ve done before…”

“Making out with me?
 
Grinding against the door?
 
Giving me a fantastic orgasm with your very talented fingers?”

“Yes, for example, can I offer you a drink?”

She places a hand over his, stepping into his personal space and says, “I knew what you were asking when you invited me upstairs.”

“You did?”

“Of course.
 
I wanted it as much as you did.”

“Really?”

“You sound surprised.”

“I didn’t know…”

“That I was attracted to you?”

“Yes.”

Deciding to put all her cards on the table, she says, “Mind if we order something?
 
I’m famished.”

“You didn’t eat much tonight.”

“I was nervous.”

“You?
 
Nervous?
 
I find that difficult to believe,” Keith comments.

 
“I may have some things figured out, but not everything.”

Without asking again for permission, she pulls on a robe and goes into the lounge.
 
Flipping through the menu, she dials the front desk and places a hand over the receiver, asking, “Do you want anything?
 
I’m getting a pizza and was going to get you some fries with honey mustard.”

He throws a towel around his waist and walks out of the bathroom, realizing she knows his favorite condiment.
 
As blasé as she is trying to be, he senses her feelings are well and truly hurt.
 
What can he do to make things up to her?
 
He says, “That sounds great.
 
Now, how about that drink?”
 
“Fine, just a club soda, please.”

“I’d like that.”

As he fixes himself a scotch and water, and pulls out her club soda, he wonders why she’s still here.
 
What could prompt her to remain in the room?
 
Holding the glasses he walks into the lounge and takes a seat opposite her in the leather chair. Keith suddenly chuckles to himself, causing Michelle to look angrily in his direction.
 
She asks, “Is something funny?”

“Yes and no.”

“Care to explain?”

“Believe it or not, my friend was in this exact room earlier this year.”

“And?”

“He almost died.”

“What?”

“Remember when I took that day off?”

“You said it was some sort emergency.
 
And you’re sure it’s the same room?”

“It looks a little different now.”

“Well, what happened?
 
Is your friend okay?”

“It was an allergic reaction, and he’s much better.
 
Actually the whole debacle was the start of a beautiful relationship.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, in fact, it’s been great.
 
Minus the whole hospital scare, one of my best friends ended up moving to Los Angeles to be with a girl he loves.”

Even though she’s ordered food, Michelle realizes it’s time she should probably leave.
 
Having a slumber party with the man she’s equal parts angry and wanting to sleep with again is probably a recipe for a disaster.
 
Standing up, she begins collecting her clothes.

“What are you doing?”

“You know we have that report due on Tuesday.
 
I want to get into the office early tomorrow.”

“You’re going?” He is only just able to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

“I think it’s for the best.”

“You could at least stay until the pizza arrives.
 
I’m not going to be able to finish it.”

“I don’t know…”
 
She’s wanted this for so long, and while the sex was every bit as fantastic as she thought it would be, the ‘after’ is falling short.
 
In her wildest dreams, she never let her fantasies go past the bedroom.

 
He flashes her a hopeful smile and says, “And don’t get dressed on my account.”

Still undecided, Michelle hopes her best option is to get to the bathroom and see if anyone she knows is awake and will answer a desperate text.
 
Grabbing her purse off the table and says, “I’m going to actually use the bathroom –
 
please don’t follow me this time.”

“Sure thing.”

“Be up, be up,” Michelle whispers to her phone, while running the tap in the shower.
 
“Please be up.”
 
She’s fairly certain her friend Maria will be awake.
 
After all, Maria, a perpetual night owl, is about the only person who would be awake and aware at 1 A.M. on a Monday morning.
 
Also, in honesty, Maria is the type of person Michelle needs to speak with.
 
Before arriving to Los Angeles, Maria was her tutor, a gifted high school senior hired to help Michelle survive freshman Geometry.
 
The two had lost touch once Maria had gone to college, but with the power of social media had recently reconnected.
 

“Maria?”

“Michelle?
 
Is everything okay?”

“Do you have a few minutes?”

“I guess.”

Michelle can hear her friend move into another room and asks, “Remember that guy I was telling you about?”

“You’re calling me at this hour to talk about him?”

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

“We just slept together.”

“Literally?”

“Yes.”

“Did you use a condom?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“So, why are you calling me?” Maria asks.

“I don’t know what to do next.”

“I’m not sure I know what would be appropriate either.
 
Is he still your boss?”

“Technically.”

“Then perhaps you should get out of there.”

“You’re right.”

“You sound hesitant.”

“I am.”

“I know you’ve liked him for a long time.
 
Have you told him how you feel?”

“Not exactly.”

“Michelle, you already know why you called me.
 
Whether or not you’re looking for validation or just to sound things out, this needs to be your decision.
 
But I will say one thing…”

“What’s that?”

“Say what you feel.
 
Life is short.
 
You don’t want regrets.”

“Thanks, Maria.”

On the other side of the door, Keith is fiercely pacing a loop around the couch.
 
He’s pulled on his boxers, and past that, is unable to make a decision about what to do next.
 
For a man that regularly makes choices where tens of thousands of dollars are on the line, he cannot choose what to do or say.
 
Finding his trousers by the door, he pulls out his phone and figuring his friend owes him a favor, rings Nathan.
 

 
“Hey man, everything okay?” Nathan asks, then mumbles to someone, “Keith.
 
Yes, I’ll send your regards.”
 

 
Keith hears the sound of a door opening and closing on the other end and running out of patience, asks in a loud whisper, “Nathan?”

 
“Yes, sorry, you know Laura has to wake up early for work.”

 
“Yeah, but you owe me for that.”

 
“I do.
 
How can I help?”

 
“The girl…”

 
“You finally hit it?”

 
Keith refuses to dignify this classification of what happened as an answer.

 
“You did!
 
You dog!” Nathan exclaims on the other end of the phone.
 
“Now, what did you do wrong?”

 
“I said something dumb.”

 
“What, did you tell her to leave already?
 
The ladies don’t like that, Keith.”

 
“No, in fact, that’s the opposite of what I want.”

 
“Have you told her you want her to stay?”

 
“No.”