Step 4: Plan a fun date
Got him wanting more? Take him somewhere fun and unexpected. It can be that new pottery place in the mall (clay fights can be a sexy turn of events) or a weekend class on couples massages. Get messy and enjoy all the laughs. Clothing optional.
And I had just the perfect place to take her.
As soon as Peach clocked in and slid behind the counter after her break, I passed her a price tag.
I love seeing you squirm. Did you know that your cheeks turn the same color red as the Office Jax staplers?
She’d love that. I gave her a quick smile and then walked out onto the service floor. Pushing the limits with her proved to be more fun than anything else at Office Jax, but I wondered if I’d gone too far when she didn’t respond right away.
Her voice chimed over the intercom a few minutes later. “Ryan, please come to the Customer Service counter.” The message cut out and Backstreet Boys resumed their torture on my eardrums. I want it that way should only be used as a choice at Burger King, not relationships.
I walked back to the counter, Peach talking to an older woman clutching a purse to her chest.
“Ryan, can you help this lady with a chair?”
“Sure.” Where was my note? Shit, maybe she didn’t think that was funny. Did I misread her? Maybe she didn’t want my fingers grazing past those lace panties. I held back a groan thinking about those panties and how much I wanted to see her in just those.
I grabbed an office chair from the back for the lady and brought it to the register. At this point, I was ready to apologize. This was supposed to be fun, and now I felt like a dipshit. Just as I was about to pull out a price tag to jot down a quick sorry, Jules stuffed a price tag in my pocket, and my cock hardened at the proximity of her hand.
J: You have a dirty mouth. Maybe it needs to be cleaned out.
Game still on. I strode to the back and thought about what I’d say next. It needed to be something sexy, since I wanted to keep her interested, something to segue into asking her out. I needed her to say yes to a date tonight. She seemed to respond best when her buttons were pushed. I quickly scribbled down a response and passed it to Jules when I got to the front of the store.
R: Are you going to be the one doing the cleaning? I suggest it be done in a hot shower. I’ll bring the loofah.
J: Maybe you need to be hosed down
R: Using my hose sounds promising
J: You’re sick
Yes. Known fact, Peach. Time to go for the kill. As much as I’d love another encounter like earlier, I wanted it in the privacy of my bedroom. Or hers. I’d be down with either.
R: Want to go out after work?
J: Yes
R: I’ll pick you up at six thirty. Wear something you don’t mind getting dirty.
I parked in front of Jules’s apartment five hours later and shoved my ball cap over my head as I walked to the door. It had been a long time since I’d gone out on a real date, one that involved going out in public. And hand-holding. Did people even do that anymore? Lex hated holding hands because she said her palms got sweaty—and if she hated one thing, it was perspiring. The girl didn’t even break a sweat during sex, a red flag I should have paid attention to.
I swallowed against the tightness in my throat and knocked on the door. Get it together. It’s a date, not an execution. Date. Shit. Should I have gotten her flowers? I felt like flowers sent the wrong message since I planned on ruining her clothes with paint later tonight. I didn’t really know what prompted me to ask her out—yes, the article said fun dates were a necessity, but something told me I didn’t need to take Jules out to hook up. And yet, here I was. Standing at her door, nervous as hell. Keep it simple. No complications.
The door swung open. Jules yelled a good-bye to Payton and closed the door before I even knew what happened. “You look handsome, DeShane.” She gave me a playful shove and looked up at me with those big blue eyes that melted away any reservations I’d had. She made things easy. She gave a wink and walked off toward my car, leaving me standing in the walkway, staring at her like a Goddamn idiot. Jules was uncharted territory, throwing me off my game—no, not throwing me off, matching me.
“Thanks?” I called after her, watching her sway her hips in tight black shorts all the way to my Civic.
When we got in the car, she shifted restlessly, crossing her legs, uncrossing, then crossing again, effectively driving me crazy. “So are you going to tell me where we’re going?”
“Nope.” Joe’s Paint Palace was one of the best kept secrets in Spring Hill. The indoor paintball course also had a paint balloon section. Instead of using paintball guns, people threw water balloons filled with paint at each other. Much messier, but less pain. Although Peach with her pink nails wrapped around a paintball gun would be pretty damn hot.
“Not even a hint?”
“You’re gonna get wet.”