Call Me Saffron (Greenpoint Pleasures) (5 page)

“It’s a good living. I meet the most interesting people.” I flashed him a smile and slid my hand along the lightly furred muscle of his thigh.
 

He responded instantly, sighing under my touch, but apparently it didn’t distract him enough. “It’s not exactly a long-term career path. You’re obviously intelligent. Ingenious too.” His mouth twitched. I’d done some interesting things tonight, hadn’t I? “So why not grad school? Become, I don’t know, a lawyer. Or a surgeon. You’re good with your hands.” He gave me a sidelong look, and I blushed. “It’s not too late. You’re young.”

He looked so earnest. I almost blurted out that I was a junior architect at a good firm, but that would not only give the game away, it wasn’t fair to Jeanine. She deserved better. Her work-for-pay gig deserved better.
 

And it wasn’t Dylan’s fault he didn’t get it. Most people didn’t. “It’s only a problematic employment choice if you think sex is dirty. Think of it as a service profession. Giving to people. Helping them. Like I helped you start to get over your ex tonight. Sometimes it means giving clients something they can’t have otherwise. Companionship, or a satisfying roll in the hay after a long drought. Or kink, if they want that and can’t find it anywhere else. Or just a simple release.”

He took a bite of pâté-smeared cracker, chewing as if it tasted bad, which I knew it didn’t. “Don’t you ever want it to mean more, though? I know you’re not into having a boyfriend, but what if you did? How would you keep doing this and have someone serious in your life? How would you differentiate sex with him versus sex with clients?”

 
“You’re overthinking this.” I pushed the plate aside and put my hand on his thigh. He didn’t protest, but I felt his tension, and not the good kind. “I love what we did earlier. There was something so pure about it. I walked in here knowing I was going to feel you inside me, and that was such an amazing thing. No ‘I’ll buy the lady a drink, what’s your name, pretty girl?’ bullshit.”

He choked with laughter. “I never do that.”

“I’m sure you’re much smoother. Still, the point is, it makes it simple, doesn’t it? We both knew we’d get laid tonight from the moment I walked in that door. I like you, and I enjoy talking to you more than I expected.” My throat closed at this, and I didn’t know why. “But we didn’t have to talk at all. Purely optional. Bodies, that’s all we need to connect.”
 

I brushed my fingers lightly against his cock. Unbelievably, it stirred under my touch, though not to fullness. Even after all the times we’d brought each other to orgasm tonight, he was still turned on by my light caress. The thought was intoxicating. That intoxication stirred something inside of me too, an answering kindling, albeit a muted one after our long night together.

We rolled over to the other side of the king-size bed and explored each other’s bodies. I marveled at the slide of skin on skin, at the ripples of his muscles, the way they bunched and clenched. We fooled around but weren’t up for much more. It was about touch and wordless contact.
 

I ended up nestled into the curve of Dylan’s arms, my ear against his chest, lulled by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. I told myself I’d get up as soon as he fell asleep. It was morning now, the sky growing lighter by the minute, and the last thing I wanted was toast and bacon with this man. With any man. It was far too cozy.

But I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, his phone was ringing with a non-Persephone ringtone, my bladder was full, and the sun was way too bright.
 

As I sat up, Dylan picked up the phone and started talking about mergers and office space, saying he’d stop by on Monday. His voice sounded so different from the way it had during our night-dark confidences. His tone now was that of a polished executive in a suit and tie, for all he looked delectably naked and rumpled, the sheets a tangled swirl around his knees.
 

I got up to use the bathroom. When I came out, he stood, skated his fingers playfully along my bare shoulders, and went into the bathroom, all while still on the phone.

If I waited for him to get off the phone, we’d probably have sex again. My groin throbbed, a pleasant ache, but I’d ridden and been ridden and was ready for a hot bath and a long nap. Still, another round with Dylan would be worth it.
 

But if I stayed into the morning, that glint in his eye and the way he stroked my skin as he went past, they said this thing between us would turn into something more. It felt like it already had. And that wasn’t okay.
 

My heart thumping, I grabbed one of his T-shirts from the dresser and threw it on, then retreated to the living room, scooped up my skirt and boots, and rescued my coat from the kitchen floor. Then I fled.
 

When I got outside, I gazed up. The second floor from the top, over on the right side. His living room windows. I raised my hand in a half salute.
Good-bye, Dylan. It was amazing being with you.

Chapter Four

I’d planned to slip quietly past the presumably ailing Jeanine’s bedroom and make it to the privacy of my own room without telling her anything. Oh, I would eventually, but not yet, not until I’d had a chance to process it myself. But she wasn’t lounging in her bedroom on her computer, nor was she taking one of her hour-long scaldingly hot baths. Or, for that matter, sleeping off her flu in bed.
 

Nope. She was perched on the couch facing the door, remarkably healthy.

“Look who finally showed up.” Jeanine smirked at me. “It was fun, right? Can I say ‘told you so’?”

I growled at her and walked past into my bedroom and privacy. Or, rather, I tried. She leapt up from the sofa and followed me in. “Nuh-uh, you don’t get to walk away. Spill. I’ve been dying since that tantalizing text you sent me at some crazy hour saying that you were spending the night.”
 

“You seem awfully perky for someone who was moaning under your comforter yesterday. Don’t you have to go lie down? Being sick and all.” I took the coat off and hung it up.
 

“Good immune system. I bounced back quick.” She gaped at my attire—Dylan’s tee engulfing my torso, a stark contrast to my provocative skirt. “What happened to the corset?”

“Left it behind. Won’t be needing it again anyway.”
 

“That was mine!”

Right. I knew that. I was so tired this morning, I wasn’t thinking straight. “Buy you a new one?” I sat on the bed to unzip my boots.
 

“I’ll let it go if you tell me everything. You had sex, obviously. Was it great? Did you like being me? Did you do naughty things to him? Was he as hot as his picture?”
 

“It was pretty good. I had an okay time.” I tried to keep a straight face.
 

“Not getting out of it that easy. Tell all. And I mean
all
.”
 

I let the boots drop to the floor and flopped back on the bed. It felt good to rest. My groin gently ached, a pleasant reminder. “Okay, yes, he was hot. He was wearing a bathrobe when I got there, and I thought about climbing him like a mountain, licking him like a lollipop, and humping him like we were billy goats in heat. And we pretty much did all three by the end of the night. That good enough for you?”

Jeanine looked only slightly mollified. But that was all she was getting. I yawned and closed my eyes, reliving the moment I walked into that apartment. The drop of water glistening on his chest. The look on his face, hunger mixed with pleased recognition.
 

I sat up abruptly. “You planned it, didn’t you?” I jumped up off the bed and made for the door.
 

Jeanine stepped back out of my way as I barreled past, and then followed me across the hall. “I was sick. I’m much better today.”

I paused in her doorway. “And what about the picture? Don’t you send your prospective clients a photo of yourself? He recognized me. From your photo. Which makes sense. Because we
look so much alike
.” I stared at her dusky Indian complexion, the luxurious black hair that fell to the small of her back, her oval Modigliani face, and her turned-up nose. My hair was reddish brown and shoulder length, my nose was straight, and my face was more triangular. Heart-shaped, my father had called it.
 

I plopped down in her desk chair and turned on her computer.
 

“Hey, that’s mine. You can’t—”
 

“And my life is mine. And yet…” I arched an eyebrow at her, daring her to stop me. “I want to see the picture you sent him.”

“Fine. I’ll show you.” She made shooing gestures.
 

I got up. She sat in my place and quickly pulled up the message with, yup, a photo of me smiling into the camera, taken last summer on the High Line. Hard to believe she used it as a come-hither shot for a call-girl gig. Sure, I was wearing a hot-pink tank top, but I was hardly seductive, with my hair blowing across my mouth and into my eyes while I finished off an ice-cream cone. “You used
that
picture?”

She grinned. “You look adorable. All mussed up, like you just got out of bed. And the ice cream is very suggestive.”
 

I almost laughed with her, but then I remembered I was still mad. “Why did you do it? Why set me up like that? That was a crap thing to do.”

Jeanine swiveled her chair around to face me. “Was it?” She gave me a once-over, and I was suddenly aware of my disheveled, satiated condition, not to mention the huge black T-shirt I’d filched from Dylan, emblazoned with an image of Animal, the wild drummer from
The Muppet Show
.
 

“You should have asked. You should have included me.”

“And you’d have said no. Like you say no every time some guy invites you out for a drink, like you say no every time we’re invited to some big party where there are lots of hot guys. Come on, Sam. You and I both know you needed a kick in the pants.”

I folded my arms across my chest, protective. “Is there something wrong with wanting to be alone?”

“You don’t want that, though. You’re just afraid to put yourself out there.”

“So you did it
for
me?”

“That’s what friends do. They help their friends. I did it because I love you, dammit! And because you needed to get laid. To loosen up about the act without worrying about what comes after. I just got rid of the hard part for you—the dating dance.”
 

“You think that’s the only hard part?”
 

Her gaze sharpened. “What happened? Did he do something inappropriate? Did he hurt you?”

“God, no. He was an incredible lover. Considerate, passionate. Sexy.” I inhaled, remembering. “But you know the part where he didn’t want a GFE? Where this would be a simple sexual encounter, leave your feelings at the door? Not so much.”

She leaned forward, compassion in her eyes. “Tell me.”

So I did. And it felt good, replaying the night in detail, leaving out little. This was Jeanine, after all. She talked sexual positions as if she was recounting dinner at an exclusive restaurant, with zero embarrassment. But even her eyes widened when I described my striptease while Dylan was on the phone. She whistled and clapped. “You go, woman! Awesome.”

“It wasn’t like that. It was…” I shook my head. I had felt so many things, how could I sum it all up?
 

I thought about Jeanine, about her relationships with her clients. About some of the questions Dylan had asked. “Do you ever think about giving up the life?”

“And pay for grad school how? Go into massive debt like the rest of my classmates? No thanks.”
 

I was about to push her, but her email chimed with an incoming message. She swiveled toward the screen. “It’s from Lover Boy.”

“Which one?”

“Yours. Dylan Krause.”

The jolt I felt at his name was entirely unexpected. The flush more so. Damn. He was just a one-night lay. What was wrong with me?

“What did he say?”
 

“Read it.”
 

I leaned forward, cursing my eagerness.
 

Sorry you left so fast. I was looking forward to breakfast, or rather, lunch. You’re pretty amazing. Best therapy ever. I’m still smiling as I look at the corset. Which, by the way, doesn’t fit me. If you give me your address, I’ll mail it to you. Unless you want to pick it up in person? Maybe try it on again?
 

Dylan

I shivered, hearing the words in his deep voice, the memory thrumming through me.
 

See him again?

Jeanine gave me a sidelong smile. “Want to set up a return engagement? Maybe you can get another T-shirt out of the deal.”

I almost said yes. The sex was so good, and I’d still be Saffron, not Samantha. He’d pay me. An exchange of services.
 

Yeah, right. After last night, did I seriously think Dylan would keep a safe emotional distance? That he wouldn’t ask me a million personal questions, that he wouldn’t share intimacy like it was a gift rather than a ticking time bomb?
 

If I walked into that spookily beautiful empty apartment today or next week or even next month, he’d greet me like an old friend. No, an old lover. We now had a past, he and I. Shared intimacy. And if I went back, we’d share more. We’d build a relationship.
 

And I couldn’t risk my heart. Not for him, not for anyone.
 

“Once was enough. Write him back, say thanks for the night. It was fun.”

I made myself turn around and leave Jeanine’s room, closing the door behind me.

Chapter Five

Dylan, it turned out, wasn’t the kind of guy to give up easily. He must have had as good a time together as I had. He’d emailed back and forth with Saffron a dozen times that first week. He asked where to mail the corset.
It’s okay, I don’t need it
. Asked where to send flowers.
Sweet thought, but you won’t get my address that way, sneaky man
. And then he got to the real point and asked when he could see me again. Said he’d pay for a night, an overnight, a weekend. He was exuberantly extravagant at first, and Jeanine kept gazing at me with sad eyes over her breakfast oatmeal, asking when I’d finally say yes, because I obviously wanted to.