Pillow Talk

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“I teach special needs children in Bridgeport. What do you do, Jessica?” The tall blonde exuded grace, charm and, worst of all, she seemed nice. Jessica felt a telltale tickle in her nose. Not now. Please not now.

“I’m in finance.” It sounded so trivial, so meaningless, and in three short seconds she realized her entire life’s ambition had just been one-upped by a school-teacher.

She fumbled for a tissue and came up empty. Not now. A napkin. She just needed to get to the napkin. No. It was too late. She turned her head away from the table. Ha-choo.

“God bless you.” Fallon’s wonderfully melodic tones winged their way through the air.

Jessica shot upright and mumbled, “Thanks.”

“I’ll let the two of you enjoy your dinner. I highly recommend the chateaubriand. They cook it perfectly. Adam, I’ll see you on Tuesday.” She wiggled a couple of fingers in his direction, yet somehow it didn’t look goofy. On Jessica it would be goofy.

Jessica sighed and felt another sneeze coming on.

Adam studied the menu with intense fascination.

Jessica studied Adam. “She’s nice.”

“Yes. The salmon sounds really good. What are you going to have?”

She played with the silverware, tapping the fork over the knife. “I did some volunteer work when I was in high school. It wasn’t special needs kids or anything, but they were poor.”

“The lobster looks good, too. Don’t you think?”

Not quite satisfied, she tapped the fork a little harder. “I give to the United Way, you know.”

“Jessica.” Adam took away her fork and then patted her hand. “Let it go. You’re a fine human being.”

“Thank you,” she answered. Suddenly her lifelong goal of a Porsche seemed petty, but the car maneuvered so well.

She glanced across the table and decided it was time to forget about her shortcomings. That would come later. For now she wanted to enjoy the evening.

“What are you going to have?” he asked again.

“Oh. Food.” She looked over the menu. “I’ll have the linguini with clam sauce, I think.”

They ordered and Adam stayed quiet. Thinking about Fallon, probably. Jessica could nip that in the bud. “She seems nice.”

“Who?”

“Fallon. You met her at a book club?”

“Yes.”

“A book club?”

“Yes.” This time he sounded defensive, and he tugged at his tie.

She took a long sip of wine, until her loins were fully girded, and then asked the question that she really wanted answered. “And just how many men are in this book club?”

“Me.”

“And you really read all the books? It’s not just a way to meet women?”

His smile grew wider. “Do you really think I’m twisted enough to join a book club just to meet women?”

Calculating the possibility, she ran her tongue over her teeth. “Absolutely,” was her final answer.

“You’re slaying me here, Barnes.”

“Do you have book clubs in every city you work in?”

He shrugged. “Not all of them.”

The waiter brought their salads, effectively ending the conversation.

For the moment.

She changed the topic of conversation and they argued baseball. She liked the Cubs, he liked the Yankees. They argued late-night talk shows. He liked Letterman, she liked Leno. They argued hardware. He thought switches would become obsolete, she thought he was full of it.

Eventually, the waiter arrived with the entrées, and they ate their dinners in silence. Every now and then their gazes would collide and Jessica felt the warm flush prickle her skin.

At last the table was cleared and the bill paid. “You like to dance?” he asked. “There’s a club down the street.”

She knew what dancing would involve, a loud band, smoke and probably very little touching. “No thanks.”

“Then I’ll just take you home,” he said, his voice low, full of promise. Promises that involved touching.

She struggled to breathe, images of touching playing in her head. “Home,” she echoed.

Adam drove this time, the hum of the car’s engine a contented purr that suited her mood nicely. When they reached the garage, she started to wish she’d cleaned up her apartment a little more, that she had shopped for better lingerie. Something sexy. Did she have anything sexy? There was an old teddy, but it had got washed in hot water and had never recovered.

Was she going to have sex?

Sex. Oh my God. Panic started in her throat and worked its way down between her thighs.

“Jess.” A hand touched her shoulder, a whisper-touch and she jumped.

“You okay?”

She noticed the emptiness of the parking garage, the intent look on his face. The seat belts came off. Her smile was simply because it felt right, because he felt right.