Page 22 of Not Safe For Work

As soon as we leave the restaurant, he takes my hand and pulls my body against him.

“There’s something I’ve been thinking about all night.”

I open my mouth to respond but his lips find mine before I can ask the question. His kiss is hungry and demanding, his tongue finding mine almost instantly. His hand slides down my back until it rests on my hip and squeezes.

“Come home with me.” Again, it’s not a question, but my answer would be yes all the same. My first date since living in San Francisco feels like a dream. And Ian Thompson is the weaver.

Andie Oh:

How’d it go

Me:

I just got home ;)

It’seleven in the morning so I think she gets the hint.

The truth is I never wanted to leave his apartment. It was this beautiful space with all floor-to-ceiling windows on top ofRussian Hill. The views alone were drool-worthy. It’s exactly the kind of place I always imagined when I pictured living in the city.

Unfortunately, with my salary, and even quite a bit of financial help from my parents, all I can afford is a tiny studio. After talking to people at work, I just feel fortunate to not have multiple roommates.

Andie Oh:

I need details!

I mean, not those details, well, unless you want to share ;)

But did you have fun? Will you see him again?

Me:

Lots of fun

And I’m seeing him again today

He wants to take me shopping

A few seconds later my phone starts buzzing.

“Shopping?” Andie screeches into my ear.

“Yeah, he said he knows some stores I might like that will help elevate my wardrobe.” I repeat his words exactly because I’m still not sure what he meant.

My family has always made fun of my fashion choices, but that’s because they all dress like they live on a farm. Dresses and heels are half the reason I wanted to move to the city.

“You have great style,” Andie says, her voice defensive. And then a little softer, “But I guess I’d never turn down a shopping trip on someone else’s dime.”

My thoughts exactly.

“It just annoys me,” she continues. “Men always feel like they should get an opinion on how women dress.”

“They do?” I ask. Of course, this has happened to me, mainly at the holiday party when I wore the most sparkly dress I could find that wouldn’t blind anyone permanently. But I thought it was a “me” thing.

“Ugh, yes. You know Davide, right? Head of Product? He’s always telling me I shouldn’t wear chunky sweaters, that they’re notflatteringon me.” She huffs. “I amalwayscold, and why would I care what he thinks about me anyway? I’m not at work looking for a husband.”

That’s so rude. I would never have the gall to say something like that, especially to a coworker. I’ve only met Davide once. Hopefully it stays that way.

“Sorry, just venting,” Andie continues. “I hope you have the best shopping trip ever. You better call me after and tell me all about it.”

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