“Fine,” she relents. “I know I stink, but do you think you could give me a ride? I’ll give you directions as we go.”
Rina beams. “Oh, yay!”
Eden turns to Alexander, who’s fishing for his car keys in his pockets. “Would you like to come?”
The invitation comes as a surprise to him. He never gets invited to these sorts of things. Alexander’s sure he looks stupid, mouth hanging open slightly and caught off-guard. His first instinct is to decline. He hates unnecessary social gatherings. They’ve all had a long day, and he just wants to go home.
But a smaller, quieter voice in the back of his head wants to say yes. It could turn out to be fun. Mildly amusing, at best.
Then he sees how uncomfortable Freddie, Peter, and Rina all are. They don’t have to say anything, he just knows. It’s in the way they stiffen, their eyes cast to the ground, to each other, to anywhere other than at him. Alexander’s sure that hanging out with their boss after an eight-hour shift is the last thing they want.
Luckily, his phone dings again, giving him an out from responding right away. It’s a text message. Much to his relief, not from Sebastian.
Bea: You up?
He texts a quick response and then shoves his phone back in his pocket. “Busy,” he says before leaving for his car.
He pretends not to notice how relieved they appear. He also pretends not to notice how Eden is the only one who seems disappointed.
Alexander gets in his car and drives away, but doesn’t head home.
* * *
He shows up at Bea’s apartment not five blocks away. There’s no passion in their kiss at the doorway when she lets him in. It’s just how they say hello without having to worry about needless small talk. Bea is another head chef in town—working at some little place called The Lunchbox—so she’s usually as tired as he is. It’s perfunctory at this point, just the way they like it.
Their arrangement is simple.
She texts, he comes over, they fuck, they both get what they want, he leaves.
Rinse, recycle, repeat.
And it works for them. They’re both too busy to date, but there’s no denying that they still have physical needs. Alexander’s never been keen on dating. Not when La Rougetakes up all his time and dedication. The restaurant is basically his wife—demanding and oftentimes unappreciative. Bea feels similarly.
There’s also the fact that Alexander’s familiar enough with Bea that he doesn’t mind her touch. Not that she gets the chance to do it often. This isn’t a touchy-feely sort of deal.
They’re both undressed by the time they get to her bedroom. Alexander’s so familiar with her apartment that he can navigate expertly in the dark. She has a nice place, but the bedroom is really the only area he’s bothered getting to know.
Just like at work, everything has its place.
Condoms are in the left side drawer of the nightstand. Bathroom’s across the hall. The apartment door is past the living room where it never seems to hit him on the way out.
Bea is a beautiful woman. Sharp cheekbones, pointed chin, strong brows. Physically speaking, she never fails to get his engine revving. It’s just a shame that she’s too damn loud for Alexander’s liking.
He fucks her against the mattress, each thrust hard and practiced. He knows she likes it rough. She knows he prefers her on her hands and knees so he can pound her from behind. There are no surprises, as well as no need for exploration. Alexander can get her to come in under four minutes because that’s just how routine this is.
“Oh, yes,” she groans loudly, gripping at the sheets. “Yes! Right there! That’s right, give me your fat cock.”
God, he wishes she’d shut up.
Alexander grabs her by the waist and snaps his hips against her, chasing after more of that sweet friction. He can feel her pussy fluttering around his shaft, squeezing him tighter. She’s close.
He isn’t.
He’s just not into it today. Much like everything else, this all feels so gray. Alexander closes his eyes and blocks out Bea’s obnoxiously loud screams of pleasure—at least, he thinks it’s pleasure... Sometimes he wonders if she’s faking it. That, or she’s dead set on pissing off the neighbors. He tries to concentrate, eagerly seeking release.
He imagines Bea’s voice softer, sweeter. Maybe even with the hint of an accent. He pictures a woman, deconstructed. A wisp of light brown hair. Full lips. The scent of coffee and vanilla. Defiantly beautiful hazel eyes with a hint of freckles gracing her skin.
Alexander comes hard, a bright heat exploding from his core. His whole body shudders as ecstasy ripples through him, the tension in his muscles melting away in an instant. He remains there, his breathing labored. Alexander’s not quite mortified, but he’s certainly stunned.
