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  "You were going out. Yes." I pretended to just remember

  now. "I guess that's why when I saw you in the Mocha I

  noticed you. You looked familiar."

  It sounded like a much better story, said that way, and

  Eric's grin stretched wider. "Uh-huh. Wow. Smal world,

  huh?"

  "Infinitely."

  I wanted to kiss him. I wanted him to kiss me. Instead, I

  bent to finish puling the rest of the clothes from the dryer

  and into my basket. He was stil staring when I stood, my

  basket in my hands.

  "What are you doing after you're done with your laundry?"

  "I thought I'd read my book…" I glanced at the clock on

  the wal, then back at him. "I have to work tomorrow.

  the wal, then back at him. "I have to work tomorrow.

  Why?"

  "I was going to watch a movie. Monty Python and the

  Holy Grail. Have you seen it?"

  "No." I drew the word out, slow, not wanting to jump to

  conclusions.

  "Would you like to?"

  I pretended to think about it, though inside I was already

  screaming out the YESYESYES of Saly's deli orgasm in

  When Harry Met Sally. "Are you asking me to watch it

  with you?"

  "I am." He spread his hands at his sides. "How about it?"

  "Sure. Why not? Just let me put this stuff away and I'l

  come over."

  "Great!" He flashed straight, white teeth and al I could

  think about was how they'd feel denting my flesh. "Half an

  hour, then? Forty minutes?"

  "Sounds good."

  "I'm in one-fourteen," Eric said.

  I dropped my basket.

  Chapter 18

  "Are you al right?" Eric had already gone to one knee to gather my scattered clothes while I did nothing but gape.

  The world made one slow revolution as everything

  changed.

  I recovered wel, or at least wel enough to keep him from

  checking my pulse and offering me CPR. I watched his

  strong, big hands slide along my clothes and put them back

  in the basket, and I didn't move. When he stood to hand

  me the basket, I took it.

  "Fine." I sounded fine. I even managed a smile. I white-

  knuckle-clutched the laundry basket and kept my eyes

  pinned on his. "Let me just run this home and I'l meet you

  at your place, okay?"

  We rode the elevator together, not in silence, though

  looking back it's impossible for me to remember what we

  talked about. I remember his voice, low and rich, and the

  sound of his chuckle when I made some smal joke. I

  remember the sound of machinery whirring as we lifted

  and the way the cool breeze blew against my face when

  and the way the cool breeze blew against my face when

  the door opened on his floor. I can recal the gleam in his

  eyes when he glanced over his shoulder, and the half wave

  he gave me as the door closed. But I can't remember what

  we said.

  In my apartment I set my basket on the bed and puled

  open the door on my nightstand. From inside I took the

  folded paper on which I'd written my most erotic memory,

  and the bottle of Cum-Ezee I'd retrieved from the trash

  before I emptied it. Without the notes and their

  commands, I wouldn't have either one of them. I looked

  around my bedroom, at the new clothes in the closet, at

  the books on the shelf. At the new me I'd become because

  of those letters.

  None of them meant for me.

  Al of them for him.

  The sound of my laughter stung my ears and I closed my

  mouth tight to keep it from escaping again. I looked at the

  jumbled mess of laundry in my basket and thought of Eric

  on his knees, picking it up. My heart thumped a little faster

  and my throat got a little drier.

  Al this time I'd imagined the intended recipient of the

  letters to be a woman. Not me but like me, at least. To

  discover they were meant for a man…I shook my head,

  my hair faling forward from the clip. I closed my eyes and

  pressed a fist to my lips. They'd been meant for a man.

  Did that mean the writer of the notes was…a woman?

  God, that was so fucking hot I couldn't stand it.

  My cunt bloomed molten heat and the seam of my jeans

  pressed suddenly on my clit as I let myself fal back on the

  bed. My nipples tightened, begging for a mouth and hands

  on them. I took my hand from my mouth and let it roam

  my body, though they did little to ease the sudden fire.

  Minutes ticked by as I ran through the lists and pictured

  Eric performing the tasks I'd found so arousing. What

  memory had taken him so long to write he'd returned it

  late? What had he bought at the store that had

  embarrassed him? I thought of his basket, his laundry, and

  the blue shirt there.

  I sat, my hair askew and clinging to my forehead in places.

  Sweating, I puled off my shirt and jeans and ran the

  shower cold enough to make me hiss as I got in and rinsed

  off quickly. New panties, new bra, not so fancy as though

  off quickly. New panties, new bra, not so fancy as though

  it would look as if I was trying too hard should my clothes

  happen to come off. A fresh T-shirt, sleek-fitting, soft and

  flattering. My favorite jeans, the ones that gave me a round

  ass but kept my gut tucked up tight. The gut I didn't realy

  have any longer, I had to admit as I checked out my

  reflection. Courtesy of those lists, I'd been working out

  more diligently than I ever had.

  I swiped a brush through my hair and slid clear gloss over

  my lips. A dusting of powder finished me off without

  making it look as though I'd tried too hard. I grabbed a

  couple of packages of microwave popcorn and a big bowl

  from my cupboard, slipped my feet into a pair of flip-flops

  and tucked my key into my pocket.

  My phone buzzed as I debated taking it with me. Now

  Austin caled me? After so long silent? I put the phone on

  the table, flipped it the bird and locked my door behind

  me.

  Eric hadn't changed his clothes, but I spied teltale wetness

  in his hair that told me he'd at least washed his face.

  Minty-fresh breath gave away the fact he'd brushed his

  teeth, too, and I hid a grin as he let me in. I hadn't been the

  only one assuming there might be more to this than

  watching a movie.

  I did brace myself as I stepped inside his apartment, but

  on first glance I didn't see anything freaky. He gave me a

  quick tour. Living room, kitchen. His was a two-bedroom

  unit, and he used one for an office complete with shiny

  new iMac that had me salivating with envy. He didn't take

  me into his bedroom, but I caught a glimpse through the

  open door. His window overlooked the parking garage,

  same as mine, but he was closer to it.

  I'd been half expecting a St. Andrews Cross in the living

  room. I think I was a little disappointed. Eric did have a lot

  of leather, but in the form of a modern black-and-chrome

  sofa and chairs arranged in front of a flat-screen television

  hooked up to a bunch
of high-end equipment.

  "You have a Wi. Sweet."

  "Ever played?" Typical male, proud to show off his toys,

  Eric grinned and headed for the TV.

  "Sure. Not for a while, though."

  "Want to try a game of tennis? I know it's not the latest

  "Want to try a game of tennis? I know it's not the latest

  and greatest, but it's stil fun." He held up the controler.

  That's how we ended up playing video games instead of

  canoodling on the couch under a blanket, hoping our

  hands met in the popcorn bowl. Eric had a wicked

  backhand, and yet he let me win. We laughed a lot as we

  played, sharing the sort of random conversation that lets

  you get to know someone without treading into territory

  too intimate for a first date.

  If that was what this was. I had my doubts. Brushed teeth

  aside, Eric didn't seem to have any intentions about putting

  any moves on me, if he ever had. It had been a long time

  since I read a guy wrong, but it wasn't impossible. When

  at last we colapsed together onto his slippery leather

  couch, Eric's smile didn't give me any clues one way or the

  other.

  I was flummoxed, to say the least, my confidence shaken.

  I remembered the trip to Sensations, and how the clerk

  had set me back. I didn't get a gay vibe from Eric, and in

  any case, if he liked boys, why had he invited me over in

  the first place? No. Something was most definitely up and

  unfortunately for me it didn't seem to be his cock.

  I excused myself to use his bathroom. And yes, I looked in

  his medicine cabinet. Anyone who says they've never done

  it is a liar or forgot to add the "yet" to the end of that sentence. I found shaving gel, ibuprofen, Tom's Natural

  Toothpaste and a jumbo box of condoms. In the cabinet

  beneath the sink I found toilet paper, extra towels and a

  few scant cleaning supplies. Like the rest of his apartment,

  Eric's bathroom was apparently kink free.

  I shouldn't have been so surprised. After al, my own place

  wasn't decorated in early-medieval dungeon, either. And

  there had never been anything in any of the notes or lists to

  indicate he was into hard-core bondage or pain play,

  unless I'd been so focused on getting my own rocks off I

  hadn't read between the lines. Who knew what those

  notes had meant to him?

  I had to find out.

  He'd put the movie in the DVD player and was popping

  the corn in by the time I came out. "It's not too late, is it?"

  He gestured at the clock. "We kind of got carried away

  with the game. Sorry."

  He shot me a sincere and slightly abashed grin. I wanted to

  He shot me a sincere and slightly abashed grin. I wanted to

  pet him. I wanted to sit extraclose and whisper naughty

  words into his ear to make him blush. I wanted, I realized

  only a bit uneasily, to see him on his knees again.

  "No. It's fine. Anyway, I'm in the mood for a movie."

  "Great! Thanks for bringing the popcorn." Eric hopped

  over the back of the couch in a fluid motion and headed

  into the kitchen. "What can I get you to drink? Soda?

  Beer?"

  "Soda's fine." I watched him pul the bag from the micro

  wave and empty it into the bowl and grab two cans of

  Coke from the fridge.

  "Coke okay?"

  I'd never been with a man so solicitous. "Sure. Yes."

  "A glass? Ice? I could slice up a lemon for you."

  I broke down and laughed. "I could just drink it from the

  can."

  "If that's what you like." Eric smiled after a minute, cans held high. "Saves me washing the glasses."

  held high. "Saves me washing the glasses."

  He brought the drinks and popcorn but waited until I sat

  before he did, too. I thought of Austin, who'd have been

  yeling from his place on the couch, feet up, to bring him a

  beer. This was a nice change, no doubt about it, even if it

  did leave me feeling more than a little off balance.

  "Be right back." Eric hopped up and disappeared into the

  bathroom.

  I took the chance to look around. He had framed photos

  on the end table and on the brick-and-board bookshelves

  that looked as if he'd made them himself but that probably

  came from Ikea. He was in a lot of the pictures, his arm

  slung around the shoulders of his companions. He'd done a

  lot of traveling it looked like from the backgrounds of his

  colection. I spotted the blue oceans of the Caribbean,

  Hawai's lush greenery. In one he wore the whites of a

  cruise-ship crewmember and was sitting at the captain's

  table. Ship's doc, maybe.

  It didn't look as if he had a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend.

  None of the people in the pictures were standing close

  enough or giving him goo-goo eyes. Eric was a puzzle, no

  question. But at least I could be fairly sure he was single.

  "Ready?" If my perusal of his pictures annoyed him, he

  didn't show it.

  I sat on the couch again, popcorn bowl balanced on my

  knees. "Sure."

  There's nothing potentialy embarrassing about Monty

  Python and the Holy Grail. Even the tiny reference to

  oral sex isn't realy sexy. I'd seen the film half a dozen

  times but never in its entirety and never completely sober.

  And yet I had a hard time concentrating. Eric stretched out

  long legs next to mine. He had a deep, infectiously sexy

  laugh I couldn't help echoing even if the movie itself hadn't

  been hilarious.

  It didn't last long enough. I'd forgotten the abrupt end.

  When he leaned forward to use the remote to click off the

  TV, a thin stripe of skin bared between his shirt and jeans,

  tempting me to run my fingers over it. I resisted…but only

  barely.

  He caught me looking when he turned. "One of my

  favorites. Sometimes after a long day in the E.R., al I can

  think about is coming home and watching something

  stupid."

  stupid."

  "I can imagine so. Sometimes after a long day at work I

  can't manage anything other than stupid." I grinned in

  sympathy. "And I'm not saving lives."

  Eric's handsome face went stil for a minute. "It's not the

  saving them that's the problem. It's when I can't. Sorry,

  that's a bummer."

  "No, it's okay. There must be a lot of pressure." I watched him look away from me.

  When he turned back it was with another smile, less

  convincing than his others. "Yeah. Wel. I did a couple

  rotations on terminal wards. Pediatrics, too. That was

  worse, believe me. A lot worse. At least most of what I

  see is fixable. A few stitches, a cast, give out a script for

  meds. I'd rather face a roomful of broken bones and

  bloody noses than a terminal ward again."

  "I can't even handle being sick myself, much less take care

  of anyone else." I shuddered involuntarily.

  Eric dug into the popcorn bowl to scoop out a couple

  unpopped kernels, which he crunched. "Funny thing.

  unpopped kernels, which he crunched. "Funny thing.

  When I was a kid, I was sick al the time. At least it f
elt

  like I was. Constant colds. Probably alergies, now that I

  think about it, but at the time, al we knew was that I

  always had a runny nose. I was the kid who always

  looked like he'd been squashed in the face with something

  nasty."

  "Nice to see you outgrew it."

  His smile quirked higher on one side, charming me. "Yeah.

  So anyway, I got older and decided I wanted to become a

  doctor, right? And my mom, you'd think she'd be happy to

  have her son the doctor, but al she said to me was, ‘But,

  Eric, think of the germs!'"

  "It's a good thought." I looked at the bowl of popcorn

  we'd shared and tried not to wonder if he'd washed his

  hands after work.

  "But I haven't been sick in years. Nothing more than a mild

  cold or two. I think I immunized myself to everything when

  I was a kid, so I can't get anything now. In med school

  they caled me Iron Man because no matter what we

  faced, stomach bugs, coughs, colds, flu…whatever it was,

  they usualy got it and I never did."

  "Wow. Lucky you."

  He swirled those long fingers through the crumbs again,

  bringing them out covered with buttery salt. He licked

  them one by one as I watched. If I'd thought he was doing

  it on purpose to tempt me I'd have been annoyed, but Eric

  didn't seem to have any awareness about how he looked.

  Or of how my mind went at once to that dirty place.

  "Yeah. Pretty amazing." He held out the bowl. "Want

  some more?"

  I shook my head. "That's interesting, though. Why you

  decided to become a doctor. Was it everything you

  thought it would be?"

  "It's not like I dreamed it would be. No," Eric said flatly.

  I waited for more. It seemed there must be more, but no.

  His gaze went to the bowl in his lap. He swirled again

  through the popcorn and licked the tips of his fingers. He

  put the bowl back on the coffee table and looked up at

  me.

  "It's an incredible amount of responsibility. It's a lot to

  "It's an incredible amount of responsibility. It's a lot to

  handle, you know?"

  I didn't, realy. Not the way he meant. I thought of my own

  job and the lists from Paul, and how there realy wasn't

  anything I had to be accountable for there. How I had

  nothing in my life I needed to take care of. How I never

  had. Even when I was married, what had I ever done but

  taken care of myself?

  "But Monty Python makes it better?"

  Eric laughed and ducked his head again for a moment