Page 28 of The Family Man

“When I was a teen, I had to touch the door three times before I left the house.”

“And now?”

“Thanks to therapy. I am better than I was years ago.”

We both get silent and watch Audrey dance around an apartment. This was not going well. What the hell is wrong with me?

“I like you. I know I’m messing this up. But I really like you.” Who the hell is this guy? Where is my cool guy jacket? At least I didn’t say, “And I want to fuck you.”

I break off a piece of chocolate and feed it to her.

Sage bites into it and drops her head to the side. “I like you too.”

I want to shout out, “Thank God I didn’t mess this up.”

“What’s your favorite kind of music?” I question her, needing to know more.

She gazes up in the air and taps her chin. “I can’t pick one. I love them all. I know yours is rock.”

I’m surprised, how does she know that? She is not a stalker? Right?

She laughs. “I am not pulling a NetflixYOU. I hear your music in the early morning.”

“Rock makes my body pump.” It does, I wonder if she’s ever fucked to rock music. I start to feel myself coming to life in my pants at just the thought.

“Well, it pisses me off. You're so loud in the morning. Like why do you have to mow the grass so early?”

I like how exasperated she gets over the things I do. “I had to. Worked late, kids were coming. I am sorry if I disturbed you. Anything else?”

She folded her lips like she’s trying to keep something in. “Say it.”

“What is up with the cat sex?” she asks so calmly, like we are discussing the weather.

“The what sex?” Am I intrigued by this question? Yes, yes. I am.

“The cat sex, some woman you had over was literally moaning like a cat! Close your windows.”

I do a quick review in my mind thinking of who may have been in my house…Shit.

“She’s a friend of mine. Yup she is something.” I scratch the back of my neck. Damn you, Emily.

“Believe me I know. How does she not annoy you with that sound? Is that even natural?”

What I want to tell her is that I don’t focus on Emily, just my cock and the service that is being offered. Instead, I sift the conversation back to her.

“Are you telling me you don’t make a sound in bed?” I ask, stroking my beard in curiosity.

“I never had a complaint about anything dealing with sex.” She shifts.

“Maybe I will find out just how you sound one day.” I wait for her response. Her response will tell me exactly the kind of woman I am dealing with.

“Maybe you will, but today is not that day.” She smirks and reaches past me to get more Sangria. As she leans forward, I can see pink lace resting over the dark skin of her breast.

I swallow because my hands are itching to touch her.

Maybe that confession was the right thing to say. The rest of the night went smoothly. We discussed her career, our favorite foods, normal date things.

“Excuse me. Can I take your picture? It’s for the Field’s Instagram.” A cute teenage lanky boy in ripped jeans and a white t-shirt stands in front of us with a camera. I look at my beautiful date. “You wanna do this?”

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