The butterflies in my stomach ramped up their fluttering as I pulled into the parking garage attached to Jake’s loft. I’d felt unsettled since lunch eaten at my desk while I worked through details for the Essex project. Since our tour of the city, John and I had gotten in the habit of texting every day or so. Nothing serious or particularly intimate. He sent pictures of the cities he visited, and I sent back photos of street musicians on Decatur and the St. Louis Cathedral with big gray storm clouds behind the spires.
The communication was nice enough. He lived an interesting life, and I was always glad to hear from him. The problem was that I didn’t really think of him until he messaged me. I did think about Jake. Often enough to know I didn’t want to take a break. It wasn’t cheating. “I’d like a chance to get to know you better” wasn’t a promise of exclusivity or even a relationship. But it would usually be enough to keep me from sleeping with other people until I had a chance to see where things were going.
John should be everything I wanted, but Jake was like a drug, potent and addictive. One I didn’t seem to be able to say no to.
That and the small bag of sex toys on the seat next to me were probably responsible for my nervous stomach. I’d already sentJake a text about the toys I wanted to try—nipple clamps and a princess plug. I’d been curious about the beads Alex brought, but it seemed smart to ease my way into things.
I’d tried out the tiny, jeweled clamps and small plug at home and managed an exceptional orgasm. But I got the impression it would be very different with a partner. Willing my stomach to settle, I opened the text from Jake to reassure myself.
JAKE
I can’t fucking wait to see how many times I can make you come
My stomach gave another flip in anticipation. I grabbed the bag and held it to my chest as I rode the elevator to Jake’s loft. Heat radiated up my neck, and my face flushed. I needed to get control of myself if I didn’t want to have an anxiety attack before the sexy times started. It’s not like it was our first time together. Jake and I had been intimate dozens of times, including venturing into light kink with the spanking.
Sure, the toys were new, so was fucking in his bed, but none of that was enough to account for the butterflies trying to beat their way to my esophagus. The real difference was I knew who he was now. His CV, the awards he’d won, the career he built, the competence porn at odds with the rich, bumbling, surfer dude persona who happened to be a great fuck that I’d built in my head.
I hated myself a little bit for it, but now that I knew what he was capable of in his field, I couldn’t help but think of him differently. Some men had the Madonna/whore thing that meant they couldn’t do things with their wives they’d been happy to do before she married him. I’d bumped up against my own twisted version of that.
Even if I managed to think about sex with John, I couldn’t imagine us playing slutty secretary or handing him a butt plug to use on me. Now that I knew what Jake looked like on paper, I didn’t know what it would be like to do those things with him. But I definitely wanted to find out.
The elevator door opened, and I crossed the short hall to Jake’s loft. Still clutching the bag, I knocked on the door. He opened it right away, as if he’d been pacing on the other side. Before I could overthink anything, he pulled me into the loft and into his arms. I breathed in the warm, familiar scent of him, feeling at home with him holding me.
And then I threw up on his bare feet.
“Elena, are you okay? Do you need anything?” Jake called through the closed bathroom door.
I wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear into the floor, or gather my courage and walk through the loft and not stop until I was home. I planned to do one or the other as soon as I could manage it. I didn’t know if it was food poisoning or a virus, but apparently it hadn’t been nerves making my stomach upset.
“Elena?” Jake sounded worried.
The only thing worse than throwing up—literally, Jesus—on the man who’d been expecting an afternoon of orgasms was throwing up on him and then having him come into the bathroom to see me do it again.
“I’m okay. I’ll be out in a minute and then I can get out of your hair.” I tried to stand up and the world spun in a circle. Dizzy, I dropped back to the floor in front of the toilet. I was going to need a bit longer to get my feet under me. Curlingaround my still angry stomach, I rested my cheek against the cool floor tiles and closed my eyes for a minute. Just until the world righted itself or I had to vomit again. Whichever came first.
“I’m coming in.”
Jake’s words jolted me to full alert.
I had no idea how long I’d been laying there, but I started to my knees as I saw the handle on the door turn. And grabbed for the porcelain bowl as another wave of nausea rolled through me. I managed to hold it back, but Jake still found me clutching the toilet as he peered around the door.
Mortification pinned me in place. I’d never let anyone see me when I was sick. Not even my mother. Especially not my mother. She acted as if looking less than perfect was a character flaw and something to be hidden from the rest of the world. The few times I’d actually been really sick, I stayed in my apartment and avoided my friends. I went contactless delivery for anything I needed so I didn’t risk infecting anyone, but also so no one saw me when I wasn’t at my best.
Jake stood in the doorway, seeing everything.
“Poor baby.” He crossed the room to me, laying a cool hand on my forehead before I could move away from him. “You’re burning up.”
“I need to go home.” I seemed to have stopped actively vomiting, at least for the moment. If I could get to my car without tossing my cookies, I could muscle my way through until I got back to my place. I could drive, if my head would stop spinning every time I moved.
“You’re not going anywhere except to bed.” He wrapped his arm around me.
I noticed he’d changed his clothes and the mortification returned in earnest. I’d thrown up on the man who’d made me orgasm dozens of times. Who’d played every sexy game I’dsuggested. How was I ever supposed to look him in the eye again?
“No, it’s okay. I can drive home.” I helped him as he lifted me to my feet and then froze as the world tilted terrifyingly before righting itself again.
He glanced at me and made a derisive noise in his throat that made it clear what he thought of my plan. Not bothering to argue, he filled a glass of water from the tap and handed it to me.
“Rinse. Don’t swallow.” He held me steady at the sink.
