Playing House--Chapter Three
There were two cars, a motorcycle, and a boat parked in Steele’s driveway. Near the front porch, a small section of grass was missing. In its place was a mud slick filled with a collection of toy trucks.
This didn’t look like the home of a single guy. It looked like a family home.
A disturbing scenario entered Ginny’s mind. Steele could have a wife and child. They could be out of town. He might be planning to make up a story, claim that this was his sister’s house and he was staying here temporarily or some such thing.
Ginny heard the echo of her mother’s voice, saying things like serial killers don’t wear name tags, and the internet makes it easy for people to pretend to be someone else. Hadn’t she assured her mother that she would never go home with a man on a first date?
Steele was at the driver’s side door, waiting.
Leave right now before you do something you’re going to regret!
Shut up Sensible Ginny, shut the hell up for once and let me have fun.
Passionate Ginny got out of the car. Her legs felt weak. She needed to pee. Again. “Do you live here by yourself?”
“No, I live with my brother. My nephew is here every other week.”
“Is this the brother you own the business with?”
“Yes.”
“You two must get along well.” Ginny followed him up the steps to the front door. “If I tried to live and work with my sister one of us wouldn’t survive the day.”
He opened the door. Ginny heard a small child scream, “No!”
“It must be Runt’s bath time.”
The kid was here, which seemed to confirm his story. He couldn't exactly bring a woman home with his wife or girlfriend here.
Ginny followed Steele down the stairs. The basement room looked like a bachelor pad. The cement floor was covered with area rugs. There was a dart board, a big screen TV, a gray leather sofa and a bar.
“You have a bar,” Ginny said.
“It came with the house. Do you want something? We’re out of rum, but we’ve got vodka and orange juice, and margarita mix. Oh, wait, you said you don't drink.”
“I don't usually, but tonight seems like a good time to start.”
“Margarita or screwdriver?”
“Screwdriver.”
He stepped behind the bar and opened the mini refrigerator. On the wall behind him was a framed black and white photo of an attractive woman straddling a motorcycle. She wore bikini bottoms and a T-shirt with no bra. Judging by the state of her nipples, Ginny guessed it was too cold to be wearing so little.
Steele followed her gaze. “I fixed her breaks, and she sent me a photo as a thank you. Rather nice of her I thought.”
“You mean she rides that thing?”
“A lot of women ride. I take it you wouldn't?”
“No. Too dangerous.”
He set the drink in front of her. Ginny took a sip. She had to pee. “This is good. So uh, where is the bathroom?”
“That way,” he pointed to a door, “you have to go through the bedroom.”
Through the bedroom. A drop of sweat slid down her spine. She stepped into the bedroom. A black and gray comforter covered the queen-sized bed. It was folded down, revealing two fluffed up pillows and white and gray striped sheets. The bed was ready for her. Ginny felt a bit dizzy. Had she told him he had to use a condom? No, she hadn’t. Had he already thought of it? Could a man who rode a motorcycle be the cautious type?
On his nightstand was a decorative wooden cigar box. Ginny turned around, checking to be sure that he couldn’t see her from where he was, and then opened the box. It contained condoms and lubricant. She quickly closed the box. Ginny felt hot, but not in a sexy way. Did she have a fever? Fine time to get ill. She went into the bathroom. It was clean. So clean that she didn't feel it necessary to cover the seat with toilet paper before sitting down. When she washed her hands, she realized they were trembling. The sweating was getting worse.
This was exactly how she'd felt before that job interview, the one where she'd fainted. She remembered the time in college when she'd had to make a presentation and had broken out in---oh God no, not now. The first red blotch appeared on her neck. She felt another itchy spot on her arm. Hives. Overcome with dizziness, she sat down on the closed toilet seat and put her face in her hands.
Don't faint. Don't faint.
This is what you get for thinking you could have cheap meaningless sex like a…
Shut up, Sensible Ginny. Please shut up.
…tramp.
Tramp? Really? Must you be so uncool?
“Ginny? Is everything okay?” Steele asked from the other side of the door.
“No.”
“No?”
“I think I’m sick.”
“Not food poisoning, I hope?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Can I open the door?”
Ginny stood up to unlock the door. Had she even locked the door? She couldn’t remember. The walls were moving. She was falling, and there was no way to avoid hitting the floor. At least it was clean.
Ginny was lying on a hard surface. Something cold and wet touched her cheek. She opened her eyes. The cold, wet thing was a washcloth.
Steele was kneeling on the floor beside her. “No offense, but you don’t look so good.”
“I think I fainted.”
“Any idea why?”
Ginny sat up slowly, leaning against the bathtub.
He touched her arm. “You’ve got hives. Do you have food allergies?”
“No. It’s not an allergy. I just need to go home and lie down.” She started to get up, but dizziness stopped her.
“Are you sure it’s not an allergic reaction?”
“I’m sure. I’m not going to stop breathing or anything. I’ll be fine in a few minutes as long as I don’t…”
“Don’t what?”
Don’t go through with this. Ginny took a deep breath, closing her eyes briefly. “I’ll be fine once I get away from the situation that caused me to have a, well, a panic attack.”
There. She'd said it. It was embarrassing and humiliating, and all she wanted was to go home before he made a joke.
Steele wasn’t smiling. He was nodding as if it made sense. “Your body may be telling you that you want a sure thing, but your mind doesn’t think it's such a good idea.”
“I kind of thought it was the other way around. Mind wants sex, body panics.”
“Your body can’t go into panic mode unless your mind tells it to. Of course, when you get right down to it, it’s all chemical. Yours are just confused. Instead of fight or flight, they're saying, fuck or flee.”
Ginny flinched at the F-word.
“Sorry, but have sex or flee didn’t sound as good.”
“I suppose there is something to be said for alliteration.”
Steele looked through his medicine cabinet and came up with allergy medicine to alleviate the itchiness of the hives. Ginny took a pill and let him walk her into the living room, his arm around her waist.
“Do you want to watch a movie until you’re feeling better?”
“Sure.”
The movie was a romantic comedy. It was one that Ginny had never seen before, but she felt as if she had. It was that kind of movie.
He smelled nice. It might be cologne or aftershave or maybe just soap. It wasn’t a strong scent, just enough to make her want to bury her face in his neck and search for more. She resisted the urge. It occurred to her that she’d spent most of her life resisting urges. It was the reason she was in this situation.
His hand came to rest on hers. She jumped at the contact.
“Is it okay if I hold your hand?”
“Sure. I’m not going to faint from holding hands.”
His fingers entwined with hers. “What do you think made it happen in the bathroom?”
“The bed,” she whispered, keeping her eyes forward rather than meeting his. And the condoms. And the lubricant. Would lubricant be necessary?
“We’ll watch the movie. We don’t have to do anything else, not unless you want to.”
“Okay.”
It was such a small thing, holding hands, and yet it felt intimate. Steele shifted slightly, turning toward her. He was close enough to kiss. She wanted to know what it would be like, but kissing posed a dilemma. She quickly turned back to the movie.
A little while later he released her hand, leaned over, and undid the laces on his motorcycle boots. He took them off. Ginny liked the boots. Who would have thought that a man's footwear could be sexy? Her gray flats had a little black bow on top. Under no circumstances could they be considered sexy. Ginny slipped them off.
“What do you say we lie down and get comfortable?”
The sofa was wider than most, and there was a big soft pillow at each end. The thought of lying down made her heart speed up.
“Uh…”
“We’ll just watch the movie.”
“Okay.”
Lying down was cramped but cozy. Her back was against his front, and her body felt warm every place that it came into contact with his. He stroked her arm. Such a small touch shouldn't affect her at all, and yet it did. To calm the flutters of anxiety, Ginny reminded herself that social anxiety is just plain old fear of rejection. She traced her fear of male rejection back to the sixth grade when she had a mad crush on Ricky Hart, who chose Lisa Benson, a willowy blonde, over her. Then, of course, there were all those boys who had liked Bryn, and not her. Now Jason was on that list.
There was also that humiliating incident at a party during her freshman year of college. She’d had a couple of drinks and gone into a bedroom with a guy she hadn’t even known.
“What are you thinking about Ginny?”
“Oh, nothing. You?”
“I’m wondering if you’re going to let me kiss you.”
He was looking into her eyes. The flutters increased. Here was the dilemma. Would it be best to say it outright, rather than go through the awkwardness of backing away from his kiss and possibly offending him? Yes, she decided, it would.
“I don't do tongue.”
His blue eyes widened. “No tongue? Why not?”
“Bacteria. Human saliva is full of it. It contains more than a dog’s mouth, even.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Are you saying you’d rather have a dog lick your mouth then kiss me?”
“No. I’d never let a dog lick me. I think it’s disgusting when people let their pets slobber all over them.”
“You put French kissing in the same category as dog slobber?”
“It’s not personal. I make it a rule to avoid other people’s saliva.”
A burst of music came out of his phone. He picked it up off the coffee table. “It's my brother. If I don't answer, he'll barge in on us.”
They both sat up.
Steele answered the phone. “What?”
He listened, sighed, dropped to his knees and pulled a stuffed skunk out from under the coffee table. “He's here. Come and get him.”
He sat back down. “This is Mr. Stinky. Caleb can’t sleep without him.”
“Cute.”
Ginny heard footsteps on the stairs. Steele's brother came into the room carrying a little boy on his hip. She was surprised to see that they were identical twins. It was their differences that she noticed right away. The other guy's hair was longer, his face was clean shaven, and he was smiling broadly. Ginny's heart started to pound, her body reacting a fraction of a second before her mind caught on. Perfect teeth. This was the guy in the photos on the dating site. She was sure of it.
Ginny jumped to her feet. “What’s going on here?”
The two men exchanged glances.
“What do you mean?” the guy on the sofa asked as he tossed the stuffed toy to Caleb, who caught it and hugged it to his chest.
“Which one of you is Steele?”
Caleb poked his finger into the cheek of the man who held him. “Steele.”
Ginny turned to her date and demanded, “Who are you?”
“Pierce,” Caleb said, pointing at the man on the sofa.
“Oops,” the real Steele said. “What gave us away?”
“Teeth,” Ginny said.
“I told you to wear your retainer,” Steele said.
“What kind of game are you playing?” Ginny demanded.
Pierce stood up. “It's not a game. Steele is the one on the dating site, not me, and he thought you and I might get along.”
“Get along?” Ginny turned on Steele. “What did you say, ‘hey bro, here’s a girl who is desperate to get laid, do you want her?’”
“No,” Steele said, “If you’d sent me that text, I wouldn't have given you to Pierce.”
“I suppose you’d have done the job yourself?”
“Wrong again. This whole thing seems like a bad idea to me.”
Somehow, this made it even worse. Ginny grabbed her purse and started for the stairs.
“Ginny, wait,” Pierce said.
She didn’t.
****
“That didn’t work out too well, did it?” Steele said, after putting Caleb to bed.
“It was working fine until you ruined it.”
“Oh, come on, you can’t blame this on me. Blame it on Mr. Stinky. Now hand it over. Fifty bucks.”
“I’m not paying you anything. You sabotaged it.”
“I didn’t know that was going to happen. Anyway, you had plenty of time. You should have been in the bedroom already.”
He hadn’t even kissed her. “I think Ginny has some issues.”
“No kidding?”
While admittedly his instincts weren’t the best when it came to women, Pierce was convinced that Ginny wanted more than sex. Sure she had issues, but who didn’t?
“The thing is I like her.”
Steele sighed as he sat down and picked up the remote. “Like I said, you get attached too easily.”
“I think I’ll send her a text later when she’s had time to cool off a little.”
“And you don’t know when to give up.”
****
Jerks, Jerks, Jerks. Ginny stood at the sink, washing produce drawers, the only part of the apartment she hadn’t cleaned earlier in the day. It occurred to her that she didn’t remember there being anything on the dating site about Steele having a kid. She rinsed the drawer, put it back in the refrigerator, put the produce back inside and went to her computer. Was the boy Steele's, or was he Pierce's? It didn't matter. She did not care. Still, she turned on her computer and went to Steele’s site. Nope, no mention of a child. Her mother was right. It was stupid to trust someone that she’d met online.
It didn’t matter now. It was over.
Ginny got ready for bed, turned out her light, and tried to get comfortable. Her brain was wide awake. She turned on the light and picked up the book on her nightstand. Five minutes later her phone buzzed with an incoming text. It was from Pierce.
Are you feeling better? Did the hives go away?
Ginny had every intention of ignoring it.
A second text arrived.
Sorry about the switch. Steele sent the text inviting you to play. After that, it was all me. I should have explained when we met, but you said you only wanted one night. I figured it didn’t matter. It’s only a name.
Was it only a name? Ginny replied, There's no mention on the dating site about a kid. Is the boy Steele's or is he yours?
Her phone rang. Pierce. She answered because she deserved the truth. “Well?”
“Caleb is Steele’s son. I swear I didn’t lie to you Ginny, except for letting you think my name is Steele.”
“I thought you were the guy on the dating site and you’re not, that’s a pretty big lie.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Why doesn’t Steele mention Caleb on his profile?”
“He likes to keep his dating life separate from his kid.”
“Why?”
“It’s less complicated that way, or so he says. Would you rather have hooked up with Steele tonight?”
“No, that’s not it, though I am wondering why he gave you my number instead of talking to me himself.”
“He thought I might like you.”
Did he like her? Don’t care, don’t care.
“And then you sent that text,” Pierce said.
“It was a mistake. I should never have sent it.”
“It could have worked.”
“But it didn’t.”
“I feel bad for how it turned out. I told you I could give you the experience you were looking for and I failed.”
“You didn’t fail. I mean it wasn’t your fault.” What was she saying? It totally was his fault.
“We could try again, at your place this time.”
“No, no I don’t think so.”
“If you change your mind, call me. Or text.”
“I won’t, but thanks anyway.” Ginny ended the call.
Thanks anyway? Had she really just thanked the guy for being willing to have sex with her? Ugh. This whole thing had been a huge, stupid, mistake.
Her thoughts went around and around for a while, before drifting to Jason. Ginny imagined him knocking on her door, telling her that he and Bryn had split up. She’d put her arms around him, comfort him, and he’d confess that she was the one he loved and he’d been afraid to tell her, afraid of her not loving him back. She’d assure him that she did love him, and then she’d prove it. They’d be happy together.
****
What would happen, Pierce wondered, if he called Ginny back and suggested they forget all about that text and go out on a real date? Would she be interested? He thought about it for a good long time before deciding against it. He’d feel stupid if she said no.
(Feel free to share! Come back next Thursday for chapter four!)