Playing It Safe

CHAPTER FIFTEEN


I wake up the next morning with the birds chirping outside, the sun streaming through my windows, and my alarm clock blaring. It’s a scene right out of Snow White if it wasn’t for the hangover. I reach over with my free hand to hit the snooze button when all of a sudden it dawns on me. My free hand? What in the name of Sweet Fancy Moses is my other hand holding on to? And why am I naked?

Afraid that I might find a horse’s severed head in my bed, I gingerly lift the comforter inch by agonizing inch until a pink helmet with a smiley face comes into view. Phew! It’s just my vibrator.

Wait a second.

Fragmented memories of last night start coming back to me. There was a happy hour where drinks were had and I flirted like a champ with Alex. Then Lisette drove me home—shit, I need to call her to pick me up. I go to grab my cell phone off the nightstand only to come up empty-handed. What in the blazes is going on today? My head is beginning to throb as I look for my phone until I find it buried underneath the pillows. When I unlock it and go to the recent calls so I can find Lisette’s name, my face freezes in horror when I see the last name of the person who called and the time stamp. Now the rest of last night’s memories are flooding my brain in all their Technicolor glory.

Don’t tell me.

No, wait. Tell me that I didn’t do what I think I did.

I did, didn’t I?

Oh my God! I had phone sex with Alex last night!

I facepalm myself and groan out loud. The blossoming headache that was a dull throb has been upgraded to DEFCON level one status. Jesus, I’ll never be able to face him again without thinking he knows what I sound like when I orgasm.

First things first, I bring the comforter up to cover my body. Apparently I’m modest when I’m the only one here—well, me and the Bugs Bunny vibrator. Ugh, I’m still gripping this thing like it’s the Holy Grail of vibrators, so I toss it across my bed, where it lands by my feet.

I decide to call Lisette.

“Good morning, sunshine,” she says after answering on the second ring.

“I don’t know about it being good,” I mumble.

She laughs. “Let me guess—hangover?”

“Among other things.”

“Oooh, what other things?”

“Nothing.” My voice wavers slightly, and she laughs again. “Can you do me a favor and pick me up on your way to the office?”

“Of course. Can you be ready in about a half hour?”

“Yep.”

“See you then.”

As soon as she hangs up, I fling the comforter off of me, stumble out of bed, and race toward the bathroom. I take the fastest shower ever in the history of showers. All the while I’m not thinking about “the incident” from last night. I’m so not thinking about it that I’m thinking about it, which gets me to really thinking about it, to the point of dwelling on it.


It’s not the first time I’ve ever had phone sex. But the couple of times when it’s happened before, it was in an already-established relationship after we’ve done the actual deed. Alex and I have just started dating or whatever you call it, and the closest to doing the deed has been with our clothes on. Not one nip slip at this point, and yet I’ve allowed him to talk me into an orgasm over the phone.

As I’m zipping up the black pencil skirt I had picked out for myself the night before, I freeze in mid-zip remembering something. Dear Lord, I agreed to a date with Alex tonight. I can’t sit across from him and try to have a casual conversation when you know I’ll be busy thinking about him jacking off over the phone. How is that going to work? Probably something like this: “Um, can you pass me the butter, and by the way, you make the sexiest noises when you come.”

Just kill me now.

I button up my red silk blouse and grab the first pair of black high heels I can find. I rush through putting on my makeup, and I blow-dry my hair to the best of my abilities. Glancing at the clock, I see that I have three minutes to spare before Lisette is supposed to arrive. I’m darting around like a crazy person, grabbing my keys, purse, and phone when I hear her honking the horn outside. Before I make it to the front door, I turn around and run back to my bathroom, nab the bottle of aspirin for my head, and throw it in my purse—now I’m ready.

My ass isn’t completely settled into the front seat when she starts pulling out of my driveway. “Here,” she says and shoves a Starbucks cup in my face.

Ahhh, the sweet smell of coffee, the elixir of the gods. “Have I told you lately how much I love you, Lisette? Because I do.”

“You’re welcome.”

I tip back the cup to my awaiting pursed lips and let it swirl around in my mouth for a second before taking a huge gulp. My cell phone starts to chirp as I’m about to take another sip. I dig it out of my purse and stare at the screen. Oh, hell no! Cursing under my breath, I ignore Alex’s call and keep drinking my coffee instead. I can’t face the music just yet. Plus, how can I have a normal conversation while I have Inspector Gadget sitting to my left chomping at the bit to see who keeps calling me?

“Why didn’t you answer him?”

So much for trying to keep it on the down-low. “No reason,” I say and shrug my shoulders. “He’s probably butt dialing me and has no idea.”

“Hmmm. Muy interesante.”

“There is nothing interesting about it, Lisette.”

“If he’s butt dialing you like you say he is, then that would mean your number was the last one called or the last number that called him.”

Sliding my sunglasses down the bridge of my nose to peer over at her, I can almost see the wheels turning in her head. I push them back up to cover my eyes and try to change the subject.

“So how did it go dropping Sarah off last night?”

“Fine,” she says like it’s an afterthought. “But getting back to this Alex thing—”

“Oh my God! Really?”

She laughs again. Seriously, she’s laughing. Cackling, to be more accurate, like she’s really enjoying herself on my account, which only makes me irritable.

“Lisette, I’m not going to tell you what happened, so drop it.”

“Aha! I knew it!”

“Knew what?” I ask in between another sip of coffee.

“I knew something happened between the two of you last night!”

I pivot in my seat to face her. “Nothing happened. That’s it. End of story.”

She stops at a red light and turns her head to say something when my phone rings again. Why me? I think to myself while looking up at the roof of the car in exasperation. I’m a good person. I pay my taxes. I donate to Goodwill. I never change lanes while driving without turning my blinker on first. So why am I being tortured like this?

“Just answer the phone, Julia,” Lisette pleads before slowly inching the car forward.

“Fine. I hope you’re happy,” I snap.

As soon as I swipe the phone to answer his call, he doesn’t even give me a chance to say hello. “Were you trying to ignore me?” he guesses with a smirk in his tone.

I suck in a breath and answer truthfully. “Yes.”

“And why would you go and do a thing like that?”

“Gee, I wonder why.”

Alex’s rumbling laugh makes me roll my eyes. “Well you better get over that because not only are we going on a real date later tonight, you and I have a meeting this afternoon to go over some of the particulars with Josie’s party, in case you forgot.”

Shit, shit, shit! How do I get out of this? Then in the midst of my panic-strewn thoughts I picture sweet little Josie’s cherubic face and remember that this is for her. Looks like I’ll be taking one for the team after all.

“Judging by your silence, I assume you conveniently forgot about that,” he goes on, delighting in his ability to trip me up at every turn.

“I didn’t forget, I just—”

“Just what? And remember, don’t lie to me,” he chides in a naughty tone.

I sigh loudly and tilt my head, only to find Lisette craning her neck like she’s Mr. Fantastic from the Fantastic Four attempting to listen in on the conversation. Covering the phone with my hand so Alex can’t hear me, I slide my sunglasses down my nose to look at her.

“Ahem! Excuse me, Mr. Fantastic,” I say, acknowledging her attempt at eavesdropping.

Lisette straightens her back and shoots me a who me? look.

“Yeah, you. Do you mind?”

“Sorry,” she mumbles. “Go on.”

Putting the phone again to my ear, I lower my voice. “I can’t talk right now, Alex. Can we discuss this later?”

“I’ll see you at one o’clock in my office,” he says. “And Julia?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t be late.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I tell him as sickeningly sweet as possible.

The last thing I hear is his roguish laugh when he ends the call, adding to my already crabby mood. How this man can be such a nuisance and still somehow be appealing at the same time confounds me. One minute I’m itching to be with him in the biblical sense. The next minute I have an overwhelming urge to slap him. Everything is so black-and-white where Alex is concerned. Generally, that is the way I deal with most people in my life: either I like you or I don’t. But in this scenario it makes me uncomfortable. Makes me feel like I’m out of control. And God how I despise not being in control. I’d much rather be the one calling the shots.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lisette asks sheepishly.

“Nope. And yes, I’m sure.”

The few minutes left of our drive to my car is in silence. Well, not total silence since she decides to turn up the radio when Justin Timberlake’s latest single comes on. Can’t say that I blame her. It’s quite catchy, and plus, you know, it’s Justin.

When we arrive at my car, I gather up my things and step out into the blistering Miami morning sun. Not wanting to be drenched in sweat by lingering too long outside, I throw a quick thanks to Lisette over my shoulder. She drives off just as I’m climbing into my Range Rover, and I follow her back the few blocks to my office.

There is no use in pretending that I’m not distracted the entire morning at work. I’m able to power through it, but I’m edgy and having a hard time staying focused. My mind keeps drifting to the impending appointment I have with Alex. I’ve even tried to watch some How It Should Have Ended videos. Specifically the Lost one because it still cracks me up. But today, zilch, nada, not one crack of a smile from me. And yes, it’s definitely because I’m remembering the phone conversation from last night. That right there might be the more accurate reason why it’s so difficult to concentrate. It’s enough of a distraction that I’m not even bothering to play with the stress ball, which has been like an extension of my own arm for the last few weeks. I can’t lie either and tell you that there isn’t a big part of me that is curious to see how this will go later. Because this game we so effortlessly play is part of the allure. The thrill of the chase, if you will.


But what happens when he catches me?

Wait. Don’t answer that.