Page 60 of Floored (Frenched 3)
Too quickly.
“Right, this isn’t even a date,” I added.
The guy looked like he understood. “A date. What’s that?” He shook his head, laughed ruefully, and helped his daughter button up her coat. “Well, thanks again. Ruby, what do you say?”
“Thank you,” she stated dutifully.
“You’re welcome,” Charlie and I said together. I leaned down to her. “Keep dancing, OK? I bet you’ll be up there someday.”
She beamed at me, and her father sent me a grateful look as he took her hand. “Have a good night.”
We made our way outside, and I pulled my coat tighter around me. “We can walk if you want. It’s pretty close.”
“Sounds good.”
He was quiet as we started the trek down Woodward toward Elizabeth. “How’d you happen to see that little girl? Sixth sense as a cop?”
He shrugged. “Something like that.”
“You were very sweet with her.”
“I have a soft spot for little girls, I guess.”
“Ha!” I elbowed him in the gut. “Guess that must have developed after you abducted my hamster.”
“Are you ever gonna let me live that down?” He threw an arm around my neck and squeezed. “It’s been twenty years!”
I laughed. “No. Some things aren’t forgivable.”
“Don’t say that.” He let go of me.
“Charlie, I was just teasing, come on.” Slipping my arm through his, I took his hand. “I forgive you for the hamster-napping, OK? I absolve you.”
“What about my other crimes against humanity?”
“Hmm. I can’t speak to those, I suppose.” We turned the corner and headed down Elizabeth toward Park. “But your criminal past is behind you, right?”
“Guess that depends on your definition of crime.”
I glanced at him, squeezing his hand. “Hey, you’re way too serious here. I was trying to give you a compliment for once. You were very nice to that little girl.”
Finally, he smiled. “Thanks. A compliment from you, that is pretty rare. Usually you’re calling me an asshole.”
We approached the entrance to the thirties-era jazz club, music filtering through the revolving door. “I call ‘em like I see ‘em. And tonight, you’re not an asshole, you’re a very nice guy.”
He caught my elbow, yanking me back against him before I could get in the door. “Don’t count on that. The night is young.”
Yes, it was.
Two surprisingly interesting things happened the night I took Charlie to the ballet. Well, three if you count the blowjob, which I suppose wasn’t that surprising, although quite interesting. But that happened later. (Don’t worry, I’ll give details.)
The first thing was that Charlie kissed me. He’d kissed me before, of course, first in my kitchen doorway on Thanksgiving, then later on the stairs. And there was lots of kissing on the picnic blanket in front of the fire last weekend. Frantic, frenzied, fuck-me-now kissing that made the world spin faster and the floors tilt and set every cell in my body on fire.
But the kiss at Cliff Bell’s wasn’t that. It wasn’t that at all.
The restored speakeasy was dimly lit by wall sconces and lamps that all seemed to glow with the colors of firelight somehow—gold and orange and scarlet, but subdued, rather than bright. The club was crowded, no tables open, and just a single seat along the bar. I sat down, and Charlie stood beside me. We ordered drinks and listened to the live music, and the strangest feeling started to overtake me. Actually it was less a feeling than an awareness of things beginning to change between Charlie and me.
It began when I noticed how close he stood behind me, closer than the space between barstools demanded. His torso was warm against my back, and every time I pictured him in that gray suit, my heart tripped. Then there was the way he leaned in to whisper when he wanted to say something, some little comment about a song or a soloist or the art deco decor. He’d put a hand on my right shoulder and place his lips at my left ear, the soft brush of his breath on my skin sending a shiver down my arms. Eventually he just left his hand on that shoulder…then slid it down my arm…then slipped it beneath my arm to wrap around my waist. Surprised, I went still for a moment. This was not non-date behavior, was it? If he could, I could.
