Page 36 of Morning Glory Girl
“Absolutely. Four dates and this is already our second picnic!”
They chuckled affectionately and continued toward the Bentley in the driveway that I had parked my sedan as far away from as possible moments ago. I didn’t know much about cars, but I knew that one was extra expensive.
“Had you told them about me?” I asked as Max and I continued into the house.
“Of course,” Max said, squinting his eyes at me, like it went without saying.
It made me feel giddy.
It was difficult not to gape at the gorgeous interior of the house. The kitchen had marble counters, an island the size of a vehicle, two fridges, two ovens, and counter-to-ceiling windows on the far side with an unobstructed view to the pool and pool house out back, a sprawling, manicured yard, and the ocean beyond it. It was stunning, if a little over the top. I didn’t want to touch anything.
After we made our way down to the beach, we chatted about our favorite books and movies and television shows, sitting on a blanket in the sand. Apart from a brief discussion about the general inner workings of a New York City law firm after Max asked me whether I thought the showSuitswas accurate, I avoided the topics of work and the future and New York, even though theywere never far from my mind. He seemed content to stick with lighter subjects, too, and for that I was grateful.
We dined on expensive champagne and caviar and crab cakes Max had picked up from somewhere in town. I worried the real glass champagne flutes he brought down in a padded case would break and leave glass in the sand.
But the beach in front of Max’s house was so serene and private, I found myself relaxing as the champagne seeped into my blood. Max held himself up on his palms and I leaned against him, soaking in the warmth of his body heat as the temperature dropped after the sun dipped below the horizon.I think maybe I could get used to this.
I looked up at him, the pink sky reflecting in his sunglasses. He took them off, and then mine, and pulled me into his lap. Taking my face in between both of his hands, he kissed me deeply. I let him. My fingers roamed through his hair, and he gripped me tighter around my waist. I hoped he wouldn’t notice how soft I was in the middle. Maybe we’d remove each other’s clothing right there on the private stretch of sand. But we weren’t so far down from the house—someone could easily spot us from those kitchen windows.
As if reading my mind, Max pulled back, kissed my jaw, and whispered, “Let’s go back to my apartment.” Next he pressed his lips to my neck, and I closed my eyes. “Is that a yes?” I could hear the smirk in his voice.
“Yes.”
He made quick work of packing up the blanket, the picnic basket, and the empty champagne bottle and then pulled me by the hand through the soft sand.
We barely made it to the top of the stairs before Max took off his shirt and mine and pressed me into the wall next to the door.
We’d taken it slower last time, after our cocktail date on the Harbor View Hotel deck, pretending we weren’t only there to explore more physical intimacy. He’d made me a drink, we’d sat on the couch. Things slowly escalated from there and ended withus taking turns making each other come with our hands and tongues and mouths. It took me a while; I couldn’t seem to get out of my head, worrying about what he thought of my body and whether he’d still be interested in seeing me after we’d hooked up. I almost gave up and asked him to stop, but he didn’t seem to want to. I was smitten by his persistence, like my orgasm was a contest he was determined to win no matter how long it took. And I was happy to reciprocate. He made it a little easier for me, finishing within a few minutes after I started touching him.
As Max buried his face in my chest, pulling down my bra and brushing his lips over my nipples, I was glad we skipped thedo you want another drinkpart this time.
“How do you turn me on so much?”
My stomach fluttered with butterflies.
“Mmm,” I murmured in reply, pulling his face back up to kiss his lips. I parted mine and my tongue met his. Anticipation slowly built in my core. He grabbed my hand and led us to the bed, pulling me on top of him. I felt his erection pressed into my underwear under my skirt.
“Val. Let’s have sex. Yeah?”
That’s one way to ask.
“Yeah.” I dipped down to kiss him again.
We shed the rest of our clothing, kissing and fumbling with buttons and clasps, and suddenly I felt more exposed than I wanted to be. I twisted to turn off the lamps as Max reached across me to one of the nightstands.This will be fun, I said to myself.He’s attracted to you, or else he wouldn’t be doing this.He wasted no time rolling on the condom he’d produced out of the bedside drawer, lining our hips up, and pressing himself into me. My breath sucked in from the pinch of it. I wasn’t quite ready. I’d need more foreplay next time.
If there was a next time.
“So tight,” he said after he pulled back and pressed into me again.That’s because it’s been well over a year since I’ve done this,I thought but didn’t say.
After another minute of thrusts my body became used to his. I lifted my hips, trying for a better angle, trying to focus on the sensations and get out of my head. It was clear Max was enjoying it, at least. That made me happy. He rocked into me several more times and then finished with a groan, collapsing on top of me, kissing my neck. I hadn’t finished this time, but that wasn’t unusual for me. I wondered if he’d touch me, or offer anything else, but he didn’t.Maybe I’ll start letting him go down on me beforehand?He’d done a fine job with that last time.
“I’m glad I met you,” he said, a sated glaze in his eyes as he kissed my palm.
I snuggled up under his arm, breathing in his subtle, expensive cologne. “I’m glad I met you, too.”
I meant it. When I decided to move to Martha’s Vineyard for the better part of this summer, dating was the furthest thing from my mind. I was clawing myself back from the brink of depression, and felt terrible about myself, both inside and out. Somehow after six weeks, I’d put a couple of my pieces back together. I’d discovered (or, more accurately, rediscovered) my passions for reading and writing. Having time to help Mimi and Luke and Luna made me feel useful and appreciated in a way I wasn’t used to. My mentality felt stronger, like I was more capable of fighting off the anxiety, the tears, when they cropped up. I’d lost weight and gained muscle and felt so much better about myself, mentally and physically. Max’s attention helped, even though during these last two hookups I’d still felt self-conscious. Nevertheless, it felt good to be desired by someone like him. And hopefully next time would be even better.
I enjoyed our dates, enjoyed him. Max was smart and fun and enthusiastic, never making me chase or pine for his attention. I couldn’t predict what kind of a future we might have, but for now I decided this was a good thing we had going.
