Birthday Wishes - The List: Book 1 (5 page)

Ass

His response came almost immediately.

She's not going to like that. I'm going to let you explain why.

I sent the
Ass
message again for good measure, then put my phone in my desk drawer. I had no interest in hearing from Ricky again.

"Done?" Rachel didn't wait long enough for me to get distracted. "Answer my question."

"I don't know, Rach." I shrugged. "I think so." But I sounded uncertain.

"Then why do it?"

"Seriously? My hymen was going to reseal itself if I didn't do
something
. Gah." Even after a positively brain melting good time with Luca on Saturday night, I still felt that pressing
I'm never going to get laid again
desperation. I wondered how many times I'd have to have sex in order to convince myself.

"You couldn't just date like the rest of us?"

I rolled my eyes again. Of course she didn't understand. "I could, but that didn't go so well for me last time, did it?" Last time I dated ended in a too-long, unhappy marriage and subsequent divorce. I liked my husband better as an ex than as a current.

"You don't have to marry every man you date."
She rolled her eyes right back at me.

"No, but I really don't want to go through any of the dating crap right now." I just wanted to get laid, which could totally happen as part of dating, but it would be awkward as fuck to say, "Hey, I really want to fuck you. Are you disease free?" or "How do you feel about me tying you up then sucking your cock down my throat?" Somehow that all came out much easier over email. It was much easier to hammer out the intimate details of sex without the perma-blush that resulted every time I
thought
about the things I wanted to do, let alone said them aloud.

"That dating crap? What does that even mean?"

"Why do you even care? You said yourself that Luca is dream worthy, so why are you worried about the details? What difference does it make how we met?"

Her eyes
narrowed. "Tell me something. If Ricky hadn't invited him to the party, would you have ever told me about him?"

I shrugged. "Probably not."

"That's why I care." She threw her arms up. Apparently she was finished with being calm and wanted to revisit theatrical. "I'm your
best friend
. This is the kind of thing you should tell me about."

"Enough. Rachel, I love you. But this is exactly why I didn't want to tell you. I shouldn't have to justify my decision."

"I don't want you to justify it. I just want to know that you're okay."

I understood her point, I did, but I wasn't entirely comfortable with this. Discussing it out loud brought all the reasons I thought it was a bad idea screaming to the surface. In order for this arrangement to work, I had to be goal focused. The whole point was to have lots and lots of orgasms. As long as I kept that in mind, I was fine.

"I get it,” I said. “And like I said before, I'm fine. I had some truly amazing sex on Saturday and that was the whole point." I couldn't stop myself from smiling. My only hope was that I didn't look quite as goofy as I felt.

"That good, huh?"

"Amazing." In the moment, I would have easily said it was the best sex of my life, hands down. With the distance of a couple of days, I was more reserved. My brain was functioning now, so it made sense that I could compare more objectively. Still, with the clarity of non-gelatinous thought processes, I couldn't come up with another time when I'd come so hard for so long and certainly not that many times. I took a deep breath. "Luca is really,
really
good."

"So, you're going to see him again." And
she circled back to her original question. She was tenacious like a damned Jack Russell. She yapped like crazy, but refused to let go of a scent once she got hold of it.

"God, I hope so." I felt instantly vulnerable as soon as I said it aloud. Conversation over. I couldn't go any further. "Can I work now?" I opened my laptop without waiting for her answer.

"For now. but I reserve the right to revisit this subject in the future."

"Fine." I clicked open my email. I was too distracted to focus on something as thick as catering agreements
. Contracts and discombobulation were a bad combination. Email was a safe alternative.

Rather than heading to her own office,
she circled the desk and gave me a tight side-hug. She kissed the top of my head and said, "I hope you know what you're doing."

"Me, too." I closed my eyes and returned Rachel's awkward hug as best I could. She was a good friend and I appreciated her concern. I just didn't want to talk about
this.

"Okay
." She squeezed me extra hard then let go. "To work." With that, she left me in peace.

I took my first real breath of the day. With the big
“talk” out of the way, I could finally relax. Or at least I could until I scanned the list of names in my inbox and saw Luca's pop up at the top of the list.

"Shit." I wiped my suddenly sweaty palms against my pant legs and took a deep breath. Did I really want to see what
he had to say? Even if my brain hadn't committed to the action, my finger was all in. I clicked to open the email.

Mari,

Saturday was. . .wow. Again?

Luca

Yes, please! Six words and I was seriously panting. His effect on my body, even by proxy, was unreal. Hell, yes I wanted to see him again. Right now. But I refused to let a booty call disrupt my ability to earn a living. Seeing him during the week would destroy me. I'd be a blissfully happy, completely sated, and totally broke in a matter of weeks. That's the thing about owning a business. In order to continue owning it, work has to be done. Folks don't want to pay their caterer to fuck someone on her desk all day long.

I kept my response as brief as his message.

Luca,

Yes, please. When?

Mari

My finger hovered over the send button, apparently not as eager to respond as it was to find out what Luca had to say. Maybe I sounded too eager. I re-read the message. Five words could hardly be considered over the top. Ultimately, I removed the
please
and sent the message as simply
Yes. When?

It was weird. Prior to actually meeting in person, we sent each other very detailed emails about what we liked and didn't like. I expanded at length, without reservation. Simply put,
he was easier to talk to before we fucked. I wondered what that meant.

He
didn't respond until later that afternoon. By that point, I was officially going out of my mind. I'd endured a second, far more thorough grilling from Rachel, and survived a phone call/inquisition from my mother.

Luca's second email was as short as the first. Maybe he was finding it just as hard as me to talk post-orgasmic bliss.

Mari,

Saturday? 8pm? My place?

Luca

I was simultaneously pleased and pissed. I was going to insist on Saturday because anything earlier would derail my entire week. But I wasn't at all happy that Luca was satisfied with waiting that long. I was already feeling the separation. I wanted him to feel just as desperate.

My response was even briefer.

Perfect.

After I hit send, I panicked. I had just agreed to go to Luca's house, not a hotel. Neutral ground was part of our agreement. We'd only met once and we were both already willing to compromise on a point that had previously been a deal breaker.

Shit.

#

I popped a frozen meal into the microwave and pushed the button. It was only Wednesday, and the week had kicked my ass to the point that I didn't care if my dinner consisted of irradiated, pre-packaged, frozen food. People pay me a ridiculous amount of money because I'm a kick
-ass chef, but even kick-ass chefs occasionally hit their limit for chopping and dicing and marinating.

"So, we're okay moving the Guthman wedding to the 19th?"
Rachel's voice spoke to me through the speaker on my phone. I was sorely tempted to hit the disconnect button and blame it on my cell carrier. I was done with the day.

"Mari? Are you there?"
She spoke just a little louder and her electronically modulated voice came close to overriding the knowledge that I love her. She's my best friend and her voice made me want to punch a wall. I needed a break from work. In fairness, she was just as tired. She had the same day I did.

"Yeah, that's fine. We'll make it work." The Guthman wedding had thus far proven to be an enormous pain in my ass. An enormous pain with an even more enormous checkbook. Rachel and I did well with our business, but not so well that we could risk telling a rich client to suck it.

The microwave pinged. "Rach, I'm wiped. Can we pick this up in the morning?" I burned my hand pulling my food out of the microwave. I cursed loudly and almost dropped the package on the floor. "Shit, sorry."

"It's okay, sweetie. I'll let you go."

I sighed and leaned against the counter. "Thanks. Really." I wondered if I sounded as exhausted to Rachel as I did to myself.

"I know I'm not supposed to bring it up, but maybe you should go ahead and call him yourself." Rachel spoke far too gently, thus confirming that I did indeed sound as bad as I felt.

I hadn't told her about my email exchange with Luca. I figured that, as a grown woman, I wasn't obligated to report it each time I planned to have sex. At least I sure as hell hoped not. Not even my kinkiest fantasies involved seeking permission from my best friend.

"Rach, not now." I debated feigning ignorance with
her, but she'd see right through that. It was easier to just continue pleading exhaustion. "I can't talk about that right now."

"Fine. But that doesn't mean you are off the hook completely
," she scolded, but it lacked enthusiasm. I heard the tell-tale microwave ping come through the phone. Her dinner was ready, too.

"Okay, go eat. I love you. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Good night." I spoke in a rush and pushed the disconnect button before she could think of a reason to stay on the line. This was one of the many differences between Rachel and me. After a long day, I wanted to be left the fuck alone.
She, on the other hand, craved company. She wanted reassurance that tomorrow would be better. I thought she should get a cat.

The fork was halfway to my mouth when my phone chimed that I had a text message. I figured it was Rachel ripping me a new one for hanging up abruptly, so I didn't hurry to check it. I took the bite of food, chewed slowly as to savor the lack of flavor and abundance of salt in my meal, then checked the screen.

Luca.

Shit. As much as I
wanted
to hear from him, I wasn't prepared to think sexy thoughts while wearing comfy pajamas and eating cardboard-esque food. Still, I pushed the button.

Hey sweet girl. Saturday can't get here quick enough. Haven't been able to stop thinking about you.

Hmm. As far as messages went, this one didn't suck. And I was relieved to see that we'd graduated from the minimalist communication we'd shared via email on Monday. I moved to the living room and flipped on the television. My TV dinner--aptly named--and my phone made the trip with me. I took another bite and thought about my response. I was too tired to talk on the phone about work, but that didn't mean I was too tired for meaningless sex if that's what Luca was offering.

What were we thinking when we agreed to wait until Saturday?

That was good. Flirty, willing, but noncommittal.

It wasn't my first choice, but I didn't think you'd agree to come to my office and suck me off under my desk.

I ran through the points on Luca's list. Was that on it? I couldn't remember. I texted back.

Promise to bend me over the desk first, and that's the best offer I've had all week.

That fantasy was somewhere on my list, so why not work it in?

Deal. How about now?

Was he serious? Like I was supposed to drop everything and meet him at his office at, shit--I checked my watch--almost eleven at night? Not terribly late for a booty call if I were a college student or a professional hooker. I just turned thirty, for Christ's sake. I had to be up at 5 am. Now, my ass.