“What are you shooting today?” I demanded. And please say there are some clothes involved.
“Ethan,” she warned. “We’ve been through this before. You can’t come in and you need to stop worrying. It’s just me and the photographer, and some time behind the camera lens. We’re all professionals doing our jobs.” She paused. “There is some lingerie involved…”
“Which photographer?” I asked.
“Marco Carvaletti. You met him before.”
“Oh, I remember the suave Italiano Mr. Carvaletti who likes to kiss you, very well, my darling.”
“You can stop being an idiot now, Ethan,” she told me in no uncertain terms. “This is my job just like you have a job.”
I stared at her in the seat and wanted to tell her she couldn’t go in there and take off her clothes. I wanted to stand in the back of the room and watch everything Carvaletti did, every move he made, every suggestion he directed to her. I wanted to be there in case he tried to touch her or looked too close. I wanted to turn the car around and take her home. I wanted to f**k her up against the wall the moment we got inside again. I wanted to hear her pant out my name as she was coming. I wanted her to feel me inside her—to know it was me there and nobody else. I wanted so much.
And I couldn’t have any of those things. Nothing.
I had to kiss her goodbye and go back to my job. I had to tell her to text Neil when it was time for a pick up because I had an afternoon meeting and couldn’t come for her. I had to watch her go and wait until the door closed behind her and she was inside the building. I had to drive away and leave my girl inside that building.
I had to do it all.
And hated every bloody second of it.
I wasn’t in much of a better mood by the time I could leave the office. I rang Brynne and got voicemail. I left her a message and told her I’d bring the dinner because I know how tired she is after a photo shoot. Don’t think about the motherfucking photo shoot.
I wasn’t worried when she didn’t pick up, because I knew she was at home. Neil always checked in with me when he dropped her. I had hoped we could stay at my place tonight but Brynne wasn’t going for it. I’d asked and she’d balked. Said she needed her own bed for the night, plus she’d be over tomorrow for the family dinner we had planned. I tried to get her over with me every night but she was still elusive about relinquishing her independence. Brynne got annoyed with me if I interfered too much or tried to influence her choices.
Cue the nude modeling. You’re thinking about it again, ass**le.
Damn, relationships are a lot of f**king work…like all the goddamn time.
So, being the brilliant sod that I am, I could weigh my options—my place with no Brynne vs. the package deal of Brynne and her tiny flat, and less privacy if Gabrielle was around.
Easy decision. Brynne won every time.
Hell, I was still fantasizing about another wall-shag and wondered if I might surprise her with one if the coast was clear when I got over there.
Where to pick up food? We liked a lot of different things. I would have brought lasagna from Bellisima’s but I immediately was reminded about Carvaletti being Italian and shot that idea right down to hell. That bastard saw her naked today.
Brynne loved Mexican, but it was far better when she made things from scratch than any restaurant in town. I really loved the South American influences on what she liked to make. I decided on Indian and rang in an order for some butter chicken, lamb curry and veggie salad. I was just leaving the restaurant with the food when I sent off a quick text: Almost there, baby. I got us Indian chicken and lamb.
I received something right back from her: Hi. Really tired and just want bed. Can I skip dinner 2nite?
What? I didn’t like the sound of her message and immediately tried to figure out what she meant by it. A flicker of unease ran through me. Was she telling me not to come over, or just that she wasn’t hungry? I couldn’t tell from that text and I read it over about ten times.
I was tired myself, crabby, rumpled, and nicotine deprived, and not at all sure my brain was up for a conversation with a possibly irrational female mind. All I wanted was to eat something, have a shower and crawl into bed with her. I could skip the sex even, but sleeping with her was non-negotiable.
We’d made an agreement of sorts about where we stayed, because her place or mine, I wanted her next to me. I’d made that perfectly clear to Brynne when we started out. I rang her from the car and drove.
“Hi. I’m not hungry, Ethan.” She sounded odd.
“Well what’s wrong, baby? You’re not feeling well?” This was a first. She’d never been sick before, except for the headache that first night we met.
“My stomach hurts. I was lying down.”
“Like you’re going to be sick? You want me to stop at the chemist and get you something for it?” I offered.
She paused before answering cryptically. “No…like I have cramps.”
Ahhhh. The Curse. I knew about that from having a sister, just never had to deal with it in a relationship before. Matter of fact, I’d never had a relationship like the one I was in with Brynne, before either. When you have sex with short-timers, inconveniences like ‘she’s having her dead week’ don’t come up. But I’d heard the complaints from friends for years, and I’d been around my sister. And I’d learned enough to know that giving a woman her space when she’s hormonal is the way to go. You think?! I supposed the nice wall-shag I had in mind was out of the picture now too. Damn.
“Okay…I can give you a massage when I get there. Is everything else all right? How did the shoot go?” I felt myself tense up just waiting for her to answer me.
“Ummm, the shoot was fine. Good.” She paused and made a sniffling sound. “I talked to my mom on the phone.” She sounded sad and I wondered if the reason she sounded snuffly was because she’d been crying. Made sense. That woman almost made me feel like crying from the one time we’d spoken.
“Our conversation didn’t go so great.”
“I’m sorry, baby. I’ll be there and we can talk when I get up to you.”
“I don’t want to talk about her,” she snapped back. She had that lovely pissed-off tone to her voice that actually got me a bit hard, but also got my warning flaps going too.
I paused a beat. “That’s fine too. I’ll be there very soon.”
“Why are you sighing into the phone at me?”
“Ethan,” she warned. “We’ve been through this before. You can’t come in and you need to stop worrying. It’s just me and the photographer, and some time behind the camera lens. We’re all professionals doing our jobs.” She paused. “There is some lingerie involved…”
“Which photographer?” I asked.
“Marco Carvaletti. You met him before.”
“Oh, I remember the suave Italiano Mr. Carvaletti who likes to kiss you, very well, my darling.”
“You can stop being an idiot now, Ethan,” she told me in no uncertain terms. “This is my job just like you have a job.”
I stared at her in the seat and wanted to tell her she couldn’t go in there and take off her clothes. I wanted to stand in the back of the room and watch everything Carvaletti did, every move he made, every suggestion he directed to her. I wanted to be there in case he tried to touch her or looked too close. I wanted to turn the car around and take her home. I wanted to f**k her up against the wall the moment we got inside again. I wanted to hear her pant out my name as she was coming. I wanted her to feel me inside her—to know it was me there and nobody else. I wanted so much.
And I couldn’t have any of those things. Nothing.
I had to kiss her goodbye and go back to my job. I had to tell her to text Neil when it was time for a pick up because I had an afternoon meeting and couldn’t come for her. I had to watch her go and wait until the door closed behind her and she was inside the building. I had to drive away and leave my girl inside that building.
I had to do it all.
And hated every bloody second of it.
I wasn’t in much of a better mood by the time I could leave the office. I rang Brynne and got voicemail. I left her a message and told her I’d bring the dinner because I know how tired she is after a photo shoot. Don’t think about the motherfucking photo shoot.
I wasn’t worried when she didn’t pick up, because I knew she was at home. Neil always checked in with me when he dropped her. I had hoped we could stay at my place tonight but Brynne wasn’t going for it. I’d asked and she’d balked. Said she needed her own bed for the night, plus she’d be over tomorrow for the family dinner we had planned. I tried to get her over with me every night but she was still elusive about relinquishing her independence. Brynne got annoyed with me if I interfered too much or tried to influence her choices.
Cue the nude modeling. You’re thinking about it again, ass**le.
Damn, relationships are a lot of f**king work…like all the goddamn time.
So, being the brilliant sod that I am, I could weigh my options—my place with no Brynne vs. the package deal of Brynne and her tiny flat, and less privacy if Gabrielle was around.
Easy decision. Brynne won every time.
Hell, I was still fantasizing about another wall-shag and wondered if I might surprise her with one if the coast was clear when I got over there.
Where to pick up food? We liked a lot of different things. I would have brought lasagna from Bellisima’s but I immediately was reminded about Carvaletti being Italian and shot that idea right down to hell. That bastard saw her naked today.
Brynne loved Mexican, but it was far better when she made things from scratch than any restaurant in town. I really loved the South American influences on what she liked to make. I decided on Indian and rang in an order for some butter chicken, lamb curry and veggie salad. I was just leaving the restaurant with the food when I sent off a quick text: Almost there, baby. I got us Indian chicken and lamb.
I received something right back from her: Hi. Really tired and just want bed. Can I skip dinner 2nite?
What? I didn’t like the sound of her message and immediately tried to figure out what she meant by it. A flicker of unease ran through me. Was she telling me not to come over, or just that she wasn’t hungry? I couldn’t tell from that text and I read it over about ten times.
I was tired myself, crabby, rumpled, and nicotine deprived, and not at all sure my brain was up for a conversation with a possibly irrational female mind. All I wanted was to eat something, have a shower and crawl into bed with her. I could skip the sex even, but sleeping with her was non-negotiable.
We’d made an agreement of sorts about where we stayed, because her place or mine, I wanted her next to me. I’d made that perfectly clear to Brynne when we started out. I rang her from the car and drove.
“Hi. I’m not hungry, Ethan.” She sounded odd.
“Well what’s wrong, baby? You’re not feeling well?” This was a first. She’d never been sick before, except for the headache that first night we met.
“My stomach hurts. I was lying down.”
“Like you’re going to be sick? You want me to stop at the chemist and get you something for it?” I offered.
She paused before answering cryptically. “No…like I have cramps.”
Ahhhh. The Curse. I knew about that from having a sister, just never had to deal with it in a relationship before. Matter of fact, I’d never had a relationship like the one I was in with Brynne, before either. When you have sex with short-timers, inconveniences like ‘she’s having her dead week’ don’t come up. But I’d heard the complaints from friends for years, and I’d been around my sister. And I’d learned enough to know that giving a woman her space when she’s hormonal is the way to go. You think?! I supposed the nice wall-shag I had in mind was out of the picture now too. Damn.
“Okay…I can give you a massage when I get there. Is everything else all right? How did the shoot go?” I felt myself tense up just waiting for her to answer me.
“Ummm, the shoot was fine. Good.” She paused and made a sniffling sound. “I talked to my mom on the phone.” She sounded sad and I wondered if the reason she sounded snuffly was because she’d been crying. Made sense. That woman almost made me feel like crying from the one time we’d spoken.
“Our conversation didn’t go so great.”
“I’m sorry, baby. I’ll be there and we can talk when I get up to you.”
“I don’t want to talk about her,” she snapped back. She had that lovely pissed-off tone to her voice that actually got me a bit hard, but also got my warning flaps going too.
I paused a beat. “That’s fine too. I’ll be there very soon.”
“Why are you sighing into the phone at me?”
