with her friends Irene and Rita. Not even when she suggested they join them for dinner. Perhaps that’s what popular girls did! Dated with an entourage . The very word was so cosmopolitan Owen felt a stirring downtown. He didn’t even squawk about paying for all four of them. And that Rita was no stranger to Cabernet.
Later that very evening, when Lidia completely jumped the gun and called Owen her “boyfriend” in front of her friends, he didn’t question her. That would have been humiliating. Certainly he was feeling all fuzzy with love, but they had never formalized definitions. Perhaps definitions were passé? Engineers were notoriously behind on trends.
The following week they chatted several times over the phone. Owen considered growing his hair out and using gel. He called Lidia “Liddy” once in a gush of otherness. Feeling utterly brazen he wore his Members Only jacket to work. Sexually, Owen waited for Lidia to take the lead. It was only proper. He wouldn’t dream of pressuring his new girlfriend to meet him behind Cogswell Tower or anywhere else so he could perform his boyfriendly duties. But Lidia seemed content to conduct their fledgling relationship over the phone. Their sexy picnic lunches appeared to have dropped off Dexter’s Ledge. Ever the optimist, Owen chalked it up to holiday stress. But after Thanksgiving, when Lidia treated him more like a table centerpiece than the strutting Tom Turkey he envisioned himself to be, he wondered if something might be amiss. He was quite certain boyfriends were not frozen out entirely .
“Hmmm,” he said to himself. “Hmmm.”
Methodically, Owen dissected each moment of their two erotic encounters to pinpoint where he may have gone astray. True, they were quite, um, speedy . And the frosty air did nothing to highlight his manhood. He was eager to display himself indoors, perhaps after the plumping steam of a shower? Surely the woman couldn’t blame him for the vagaries of Mother Nature! Not when he had clearly stated that he lived in his own apartment.
The only possible blunder Owen could think of was a hulking one. His stomach flopped over just thinking of it. Had he misinterpreted Lidia’s whispered declaration of readiness ? Instead of a sexual green light, was it something else entirely? Perhaps a statement of desperation from an aging woman who’s the last of her friends to marry and have children? Had she been asking for a ring instead of a fling?
Lord have mercy. Owen felt ill. But he said nothing. While a gentleman may think these thoughts, he certainly never utters them.
“I need to see you.”
Lidia called Owen at work just as he was neatening his desk for the weekend. Alarmed by her leaden tone, he didn’t dare suggest they meet at the back of Cogswell Tower, not even with a down sleeping bag.
“That would be lovely,” he replied, trying to sound chipper for both of them. “Shall we grab a bite to eat? Bring the entourage!”
“Why don’t I swing by your place?”
Owen exhaled. His shoulders relaxed. The sexy whisper was back in Lidia’s voice. He could hear the twinkle in her eye. Finally, things were looking up. “Give me twenty minutes to change the sheets.”
Lidia laughed and Owen’s heart soared. On the way out of the office, he practically skipped. Conrad shouted, “You turkey leftovers this weekend or the main course, O-Man?”
“Why, I believe I’m dessert!”
Chapter 9
T HE BUS STOP across Riverside Drive was empty, but Muriel knew the M5 would arrive soon . . . or in half an hour. You never knew with that line. The posted bus schedule was merely pole decoration. Something to read while you waited. In the early afternoon sunlight, the two sisters were on their way to lunch.
“Pick someplace fabulous,” Pia had said, “and wear your new scarf. And that white shirtdress I bought you for your birthday.”
Hearing the desperation in her own voice, Muriel had replied, “I bought heirloom tomatoes. I’m quite
Later that very evening, when Lidia completely jumped the gun and called Owen her “boyfriend” in front of her friends, he didn’t question her. That would have been humiliating. Certainly he was feeling all fuzzy with love, but they had never formalized definitions. Perhaps definitions were passé? Engineers were notoriously behind on trends.
The following week they chatted several times over the phone. Owen considered growing his hair out and using gel. He called Lidia “Liddy” once in a gush of otherness. Feeling utterly brazen he wore his Members Only jacket to work. Sexually, Owen waited for Lidia to take the lead. It was only proper. He wouldn’t dream of pressuring his new girlfriend to meet him behind Cogswell Tower or anywhere else so he could perform his boyfriendly duties. But Lidia seemed content to conduct their fledgling relationship over the phone. Their sexy picnic lunches appeared to have dropped off Dexter’s Ledge. Ever the optimist, Owen chalked it up to holiday stress. But after Thanksgiving, when Lidia treated him more like a table centerpiece than the strutting Tom Turkey he envisioned himself to be, he wondered if something might be amiss. He was quite certain boyfriends were not frozen out entirely .
“Hmmm,” he said to himself. “Hmmm.”
Methodically, Owen dissected each moment of their two erotic encounters to pinpoint where he may have gone astray. True, they were quite, um, speedy . And the frosty air did nothing to highlight his manhood. He was eager to display himself indoors, perhaps after the plumping steam of a shower? Surely the woman couldn’t blame him for the vagaries of Mother Nature! Not when he had clearly stated that he lived in his own apartment.
The only possible blunder Owen could think of was a hulking one. His stomach flopped over just thinking of it. Had he misinterpreted Lidia’s whispered declaration of readiness ? Instead of a sexual green light, was it something else entirely? Perhaps a statement of desperation from an aging woman who’s the last of her friends to marry and have children? Had she been asking for a ring instead of a fling?
Lord have mercy. Owen felt ill. But he said nothing. While a gentleman may think these thoughts, he certainly never utters them.
“I need to see you.”
Lidia called Owen at work just as he was neatening his desk for the weekend. Alarmed by her leaden tone, he didn’t dare suggest they meet at the back of Cogswell Tower, not even with a down sleeping bag.
“That would be lovely,” he replied, trying to sound chipper for both of them. “Shall we grab a bite to eat? Bring the entourage!”
“Why don’t I swing by your place?”
Owen exhaled. His shoulders relaxed. The sexy whisper was back in Lidia’s voice. He could hear the twinkle in her eye. Finally, things were looking up. “Give me twenty minutes to change the sheets.”
Lidia laughed and Owen’s heart soared. On the way out of the office, he practically skipped. Conrad shouted, “You turkey leftovers this weekend or the main course, O-Man?”
“Why, I believe I’m dessert!”
Chapter 9
T HE BUS STOP across Riverside Drive was empty, but Muriel knew the M5 would arrive soon . . . or in half an hour. You never knew with that line. The posted bus schedule was merely pole decoration. Something to read while you waited. In the early afternoon sunlight, the two sisters were on their way to lunch.
“Pick someplace fabulous,” Pia had said, “and wear your new scarf. And that white shirtdress I bought you for your birthday.”
Hearing the desperation in her own voice, Muriel had replied, “I bought heirloom tomatoes. I’m quite
Similar Books
