Page 107 of Lovebug
“High praise. Care to come in?” He steps aside and gestures for me to move into his space.
“Yesyesyes,” I rush. “Coming in.” As I approach him, I realize I have no idea what the social norms are for a moment like this. How does one comport herself when seeing her boss for the first time after engaging in funnilingous with him? “Do we um. Do we shake hands or…?”
He places his warm hand on my shoulder. “Mabel, this doesn’t have to be awkward.”
I peek up into his blue eyes, still a few inches above mine, even while I’m wearing heels. “It doesn’t?”
He shakes his head. “It doesn’t. And no, we will not be shaking hands tonight.”
“What will we be doing?” My voice sounds a little husky when I say it.
“That is completely and totally up to you. But…” He gets so close I can feel his breath on my face. “If you’re wondering how we should greet one another… ”
“Yeah?” I feel my head tilting to the side, instinctually preparing to line our lips up on just the right angle…”
“I was thinking maybe we should start with a little bit of…”
“Yes?”
“WAPOW!” He smacks my butt. I startle.
“Did you just smack me on the butt and say ‘WAPOW?’”
“I did, yeah.”
“Given the fact that you’re my boss now, would you agree that what you just did could be considered harassment?
“I would. Yes,” he smiles, but then seems to think better of it. “Are you… okay with that?”
“I am. Yes. Completely okay.” I say without a second thought.
We laugh.
“I’m sorry. I won’t do that again if it made you uncomfortable,” Wally says. “I just had to break the tension somehow, and a wapow ass smack is what came to me at the moment. I suppose I felt it was okay since we’ve already been… familiar with one another. But in light of recent revelations…”
”Is Wally Bieber rambling?” I tease. “It was funny. You’re fine.” At that, I lift my hand in the universal prep for a high five. You know, because I’m not awkward at all. Instead of smacking my hand, though, he weaves his fingers with mine and holds on for a moment.
I don’t want to let go.
I finally enter the space, fully, and he shuts the door behind me. He really did relax some of the tension I was feeling. My shoulders have dropped at least two inches. I take in a deep breath.
“Wow, it smells amazing in here. What are you cooking?”
“Broiled wild striped bass drizzled with ginger-scallion oil, stir-fried asparagus, and lemon-encrusted potato wedges for sides, and then for dessert, I whipped us up a spiced pear, blueberry and almond shortcake with whiskey chocolate glaze.”
I stare at him blankly.
“Sound okay?”
“Yeah. That sounds… amazing.”
“You like a crisp Alsatian Pinot Gris?”
“Sure…” I chuckle. “Who doesn’t?” Full disclosure? No idea what he just said.
“Great. I think it pairs nicely with the fish.”
Whoisthis guy?
