I left the club less than an hour after Jackson. I had much more to drink than I had planned and it was starting to manifest itself as a headache. I needed to get home, take a shower and hydrate. Even though I lived only two blocks from the Mad Hatter, Kate and Isobel insisted I take a cab.
I let myself into my ninth floor condo and flicked on the overhead kitchen lights. There was another condo building across the street. I leaned against the living room window and looked across at the inhabited boxes that were brightly lit, exposing vignettes of the lives led behind the glass and brick. There was a middle-aged couple watching television; the man was laughing, the woman looked bored. A teenager was on her phone, gesticulating dramatically as she seemed to chatter non-stop. A woman was curled up in an armchair reading, absentmindedly twirling a lock of hair between her fingers. I glanced up three stories, four windows to the right. The window was dark. Sometimes the man who lived there enjoyed putting on a show. He often walked around in just his boxers and sometimes wore nothing at all. Once he even jerked off while I watched. Call me a pervert but I enjoyed it.
Actually, I was envious of his nerve. It was a secret fetish of mine. Being watched. I often left the blinds open and the lights on as I walked around my home in my undies, silently thrilled by the thought of someone watching me and being turned on by my brazenness. I hadn’t pleasured myself in front of the open window though. I suppose I had limits, after all I was a psychologist with a professional reputation to uphold. I’d save the truly bold and risqué acts for a time when I visited NYC or some other large city where my anonymity was assured.
I thought of Jackson. My hand slipped inside my blouse as I remembered the feel of his lips against mine and the imprint of his erection against my hip. My nipples were still engorged and I’d be willing to bet my panties were damp too. Did I dare shove my hand down the front of my underwear, here on display inside my own brightly lit box for the world to see?
No. Sadly, or maybe fortunately, I wasn’t that drunk. I turned away from the window, unbuttoning my blouse as I walked toward the bedroom. I’d save my naughty fingering for the privacy of my shower.
************
I slept late on Saturday, waking with a jolt and remembering why I avoided tequila. Worst. Hangovers. Ever. This morning was no exception. I shuffled to the kitchen and washed down acetaminophen with a full glass of water, hoping hydration would dull the ache in my head and settle the queasiness in my stomach. I made toast and tea and was just about to curl up in my favorite armchair to eat my simple breakfast when my cell phone rang.
“Did you awake in the third circle of hell this morning too?” Kate moaned before I could even say hello.
I snorted a laugh, sadistically pleased I wasn’t the only one suffering after our evening of overindulgence.
“I’m fine,” I said with false brightness.
“Liar,” she called my bluff. “So where is handsome Jackson Spencer taking you tonight?”
“Oh my God,” I gasped.
“What?! Don’t tell me you forgot about your hot date with the yummiest and most sought after bachelor in the city?”
“Don’t be ridiculous! Of course I haven’t forgotten. But I did just remember that we didn’t make a specific plan. We simply said dinner but we didn’t set a time or place.”
“What?” Kate’s voice was so shrill I had to move the phone away from my ear. “Did you at least exchange numbers?”
“Nope. We didn’t. And my number isn’t listed,” I said, my hopes dashed with the realization that that even though I’d finally met a decent man, I’d let him slip through my fingers.
“That sucks, Jen. Why don’t you look him up? You call him!” she suggested.
“No, no, no,” I protested. “Dinner was his idea. As much as I was looking forward to seeing him again, I am not going to pathetically seek him out. Perhaps I had simply been an amusing distraction to him.”
“No way! Did you see the way he was looking at you? He wasn’t amused or distracted. He was interested. He looked like he wanted to devour you. He was all in.”
“Appearances can be deceiving. Obviously. I’m going for a run clear my head and work off this disappointment. Can we talk later?”
“Sure, sweetie. I’m really sorry, Jen.”
“Thanks. Talk later. Stay hydrated and feel better.” I ended the call and took a sip of tea, mentally kicking myself for not exchanging numbers with Jackson. Dammit. He had seemed like the real deal.
Breakfast helped settle my stomach and the meds were easing my headache. I quickly changed into shorts and a tee, brushed my teeth and pulled my long, curly blonde hair into a high ponytail. I was relieved to see that my light blue eyes weren’t as bloodshot as I had feared. Though my pale skin looked almost translucent and the light dusting of freckles across my nose and cheeks stood out in stark contrast. I laced up my running shoes, selected a playlist on my phone and headed out the front door of my condo building to pound the pavement. I loved running. It was my workout of choice. I focused my attention on the rhythmic beat of my footsteps against the concrete sidewalks and the music funneling into my brain through my ear buds, hoping to obliterate the disappointment that was consuming me since my conversation with Kate.
He didn’t really want me.
Even though I think I might really want him. After one dance. One kiss. Dammit! What the hell was wrong with me? It was just a dance. Just a kiss. He was just a guy. I pushed myself harder, running faster, jogging in place at the red lights. I wanted to outrun the memory of his lips against mine. Of how unbelievably good it felt to be held in his arms. He made me feel safe and desirable. He made me want to break rules and push boundaries and see if he was as good at other intimacies as he was at kissing. No matter how hard I pushed myself I couldn’t forget him. He was at the forefront of every thought. Defeated, I turned around and started the long run back home.
************
Thirty minutes later, I let myself into my building, pulling out my ear buds as I walked across the marble floor of the lobby to the elevators.
“Hello Jennifer,” a voice, that voice, spoke from across the room.
I spun around. It couldn’t be? But somehow it was! He was here. In my building. Jackson Spencer was standing not ten feet away from me. Oh God! I was sweating and probably looked like death warmed over.
“Jackson! What on earth are you doing here? How did you know where I live?”
“I work in security. You were easy to find. Plus, I realized that we hadn’t decided on a restaurant or time to meet. I buzzed your condo and when there was no answer I decided to wait around. See if I could catch you. I hope you don’t mind.” And then a little softer, he added, “I didn’t really want to wait several more hours to see you.”
My heart melted at that last bit.
“I’m afraid you’ve caught me at my worse.”
“If this is your worse, I’m in more trouble than I thought. You look beautiful. Healthy. Strong. Complete turn on.”