First Time: Ian's Story (First Time (Ian) Book 1) (13 page)

“
Sure,” I said, hoping she
would take my hesitation as protectiveness for my work. On
autopilot, I added, “And the reason I don’t have lights directly
above my desk is because they would be coming right at the back of
my head. It’s hard to draw in your own shadow.”

“
Oh. I wouldn’t have thought
of that,” she said, her focus on the paper taped there. “Is this a
relative?”

Well, we did look
alike.
“My brother, Robby. When he was
twenty. I’m trying to do it from memory, but I can’t quite get it
right. I may turn to a photo reference soon.”

I would have to get one from Annie, if I
could bear it. Every time I looked at a photo of my brother, I only
saw the way he’d looked when I’d arrived on the scene.

Drawing him from memory, that was the only
way I could focus my concentration on remembering what he’d looked
like without half his fucking head gone. But that wasn’t anything I
ever planned to burden Penny with knowing.

“
Do all of you guys look
alike?” she asked, brightening up.

“
I take after my dad. Most
of us do. My sister, Annie, looks more like Mum.” I had to get out
of the room. It felt haunted, now that we’d talked about
Robby.

I started casually for the door, and she
followed along beside me. Without thinking, I blurted, “The third
floor is my bedroom—”

“
No, I’m not used to your
creepy stairs, yet, and that’s way too high,” she answered
quickly.

There was an elevator right in front of us.
I got the hint. I wanted her to know it hadn’t been a come on—or at
least that I wasn’t going to use some sleazy, high-pressure tactic
to get her into my bed—so I said, “We’ll take the elevator back
down, then.”

Afraid of stairs or not, I had a great idea
when the food arrived. I would take her up to show her the absolute
jewel of the apartment, the entire reason I’d purchased it in the
first place. After I paid the delivery man, I took the plastic
containers and let her carry two bottles of beer and some
silverware. “Let’s bring this with us.”

She came to the elevator with me. “Where
to?”

I used my elbow to press the button. “Up to
the deck.”

“
The deck?”

“
It’s more of a widow’s
walk, but it has great views.” I was downplaying it intentionally.
The rooftop deck was fantastic, a little box resting at the apex of
the tower, partially enclosed from the elements with glass walls
and railings, and a ceiling of thick glass blocks.

As we rode past the third floor, Penny
excitedly exclaimed, “Is that Ambrose?”

I didn’t catch the glimpse she had, but it
wouldn’t surprise me if Ambrose was slinking around the third
floor. He was wary of strangers. “If it was a cat, and it was in my
apartment, then I very much hope it was.”

“
This is amazing,” Penny
breathed as we stepped onto the deck. It couldn’t have been a more
romantic evening. The brutal heat of the day had faded into a balmy
night, and the sunset melted into a purple twilight that contrasted
beautifully with the yellow and orange lights of the
city.

Gena had picked out what I still considered
fairly impractical outdoor furniture, a chair-and-a-half and chaise
longue in lacquered black wood and white linen upholstery, and a
square black coffee table. Then again, I supposed it wouldn’t have
been as impressive to invite Penny up to see my deck with
Adirondack chairs or a picnic table.

I placed our food on the table as I
apologized in advance for the way we would have to hunch over to
eat. “Not an ideal dining arrangement, I know, but I think it’s
worth it for the atmosphere.”

“
I think it’s fantastic,”
Penny said, sliding into the chair. “I eat a lot of meals sitting
on the floor next to our coffee table at home, anyway.”

While we ate, Penny regaled me with tales of
her move from the Midwest to the Big Apple, and I responded in
kind, explaining how strange it had been coming to the city from
Scotland. It did not surprise me in the slightest to find that for
both of us, it was like traveling to another planet, not just a new
city or country. She also told me about her friends, and we found
we shared an oddly contradictory personality quirk in which we
considered ourselves outgoing but introverted.

It was that conversation, in which we talked
about the few close friends we each had, that she asked a question
I hadn’t even realized I’d been dreading.

“
How do you know
Sophie?”

I had just twirled up a bit of spaghetti
bolognese and was about to lift it to my mouth when I froze. My
first instinct led to a lie of omission: “I went to university with
her husband. Briefly.”

“
Oh, really? Where was
that?” she asked. It might have sounded like a trap because I felt
guilty. Or she might have already known the truth: that I had slept
with Sophie. It wasn’t as though I could ask her if she knew
without telling her if she didn’t, and I still hadn’t figured out
exactly when it would be appropriate to bring it up.

So, I just answered her question. “Exeter. I
went for fine art.” I took a bite and pretended to be interested in
the plate from which the next would come.

“
And that turned
into…architecture?”

I took a swallow of my beer. I had been
forced into architecture. After my brother and sister had died, I’d
been paralyzed by the sudden upheaval in my family, and I’d felt
responsible for my mum. Art had seemed like a lark, and I’d felt I
needed a real career. “The two have a lot in common. But some
personal circumstances arose that changed my career path, as it
were.”

“
Ah.” She paused. She did
know something. She had to. “So, was Neil a fine arts
major?”

Ah, fuck it. I’d have to tell her. “No,
economics. We met through a club. I’m not sure I want to tell you
which.”

“
Well now you have to.
You’ve piqued my interest.”

“
It may change how you feel
about me,” I warned her. And I hoped it wouldn’t. God, I hoped it
wouldn’t. My sexual past had never been any obstacle to my sexual
future before, and I was beginning to sweat under my
collar.

She laughed, because she didn’t know where
the conversational path we were on would lead us to. “Ian. I’m
pretty much sold on you at this point. Unless you were a Neo-Nazi
skinhead, I won’t care.”

She’s sold on me?
The momentary swell of joy in my heart was tamped
down firmly by the reality of what I had to tell her. I nodded,
looked down then decided that I was going to have to make eye
contact with her to really prove I wasn’t joking. “It was a kink
club.”

She went as still as a photo, her eyes wide,
cheeks flaming red. When she spoke, she sounded like the words were
choking her. “A…oh.”

“
Yeah. It was an
experimental time in my youth.” My gaze wandered off, away from the
discussion we were having. Talking had been so much easier when
we’d been discussing the difference between having a party and
going to a party.

It took her a moment to respond, and I
panicked. Was I going to have to explain to her what a kink club
was? Schools had had them secretly for a long time. I thought
Harvard’s might have been officially recognized. The one at Oxford
had been a word-of-mouth, private gathering.

“
You don’t have to
apologize,” Penny began. “People are into all sorts of things. I
might not be—”

“
It isn’t a relationship
requirement,” I hurried to assure her. The last thing I needed was
for her to think I was hiding shackles behind my back or something.
“Besides, we’re not sleeping together.”

“
But that doesn’t mean we
won’t.”

My throat was suddenly very dry, and I
swallowed.

She went on, “And it doesn’t mean I’d never
try something a little risqué. What’s your kink?” and I thought I
might need oxygen.

“
Nothing with whips or
chains.” Though my brain was stubbornly fixated on imagining Penny
in black leather. “But in the past I’ve quite enjoyed swinging and
group sex.”

“
So, you like having sex
with other people while you’re in a relationship?” Her voice got a
little tight at the end of the question.

“
My ex-wife and I did, but
together. Never in separate rooms.” To someone who didn’t
understand the dynamic, that probably wasn’t a great comfort. I
went on to clarify, “No individual dates with other people. It
wasn’t an open relationship. More of a shared sexual
experience.”

“
If we
were…together…”

“
I wouldn’t be willing to
share you with another boyfriend, no.” I didn’t like the idea, at
all. I’d recoiled when Gena had brought up the idea of swinging a
few years into our relationship, until she’d explained the
difference between it and an open relationship. Having sex with
someone else had been as far as it had gone. Dating someone else,
forming a romantic bond outside of the primary relationship, the
very idea had flung me into a jealous panic.

I was relieved when Penny agreed. “Ditto. I
wouldn’t be comfortable in a long-term relationship with you while
you were in a relationship with someone else. And I wouldn’t be
comfortable having sex with someone else with you, or watching you
have sex with someone. In the interest of full disclosure, is all
I’m saying.”

That relief was only momentary, because I
realized that the window opportunity for coming clean about my
one-time sexual involvement with Sophie had been flung open wide.
If I didn’t tell Penny now, I was a monster. My jaw clenched, and
my stomach roiled. This could be the end of the line, and I
desperately didn’t want it to be. “In the interest of full
disclosure, then, I should tell you something.”

“
This sounds
grim.”

“
It may well be.” I looked
her in the eye. Whatever I saw there when I broke the bad news, I
would have my answer. “I’ve slept with Sophie.”

Confusion was the first emotion I spotted.
Then dread. Perhaps because Penny had spoken so frankly about sex,
I’d lulled myself into a false sense of security with regards to
what her reaction might be.

“
Sophie…my boss,
Sophie.”

“
Yes. Earlier this spring,
before Gena and I split up.” I cleared my throat. “It was
a—”

“
A swinger thing,” she
finished for me, so I knew she understood. Understanding and
accepting, however, were two very different animals. Like an
octopus and…something with fewer arms. She still stared at me, her
eyes wide, the hurt displayed in them growing with every heartbeat
visible in her pupils.

I could only imagine the conversation
happening between us in her head. I wanted desperately for that
conversation to play out in reality, so we knew where we both
stood. “Penny?”

“
Look, I’m not going to say
that this doesn’t matter to me. It does. I kinda of wish I’d known
about this sooner.”

I nodded. “I wasn’t sure what the
appropriate time would be to address it.”

“
I think Sophie should have
told me when she set us up,” Penny said, and I sensed she was far
more upset with her boss than she was with me. How that would
affect our current situation remained to be seen.

There was one way for sure to tell how she
felt about this. “Would it have affected your decision to walk into
that restaurant last week?” I forced a smile to try to add some
levity to the situation. It didn’t work. “In spite of the fortune
cookie?”

A week. God, it had only been a week, and
here I was, desperate not to lose her. After a week, you didn’t
really have someone yet, did you?

Then why did it feel like a loss?

“
Honestly?” she asked. “Yes.
I probably wouldn’t have gone out with you.”

God, that stung.
You let yourself fall for her way too soon, mate.
Your first time back on the field and you’ve already injured
yourself going for a goal.

“
And now?” I asked. “Does it
make a difference?”

It took her a moment to decide on her
answer. I would give her all the time in the world if it meant she
would keep seeing me. She took a deep breath, and I braced
myself.

“
No,” she said finally. “It
doesn’t change anything.”

My hands trembled; I wanted to touch her so
badly, just to remind myself she was still real, that our
connection was still real. “Well, that’s a relief. Because I really
do like you, Penny. And I would hate to do anything to hurt
you.”

“
I would hate that, too,”
she agreed. “Look, I’ll talk to Sophie. I want to be on the right
page with her. But I don’t have any problem with what’s happening
here.”

“
Good.” I paused, because I
wanted us to be on the right page, as well, but I didn’t know how
far down that page she’d already read. “And I’m certainly not going
to be sleeping with Sophie again. That was a particular set of
circumstances that occurred one time. And please don’t think I’m
out sleeping with a new woman every night. This may be too forward,
but I’m not interested in seeing anyone else, at the
moment.”

There. A week into dating her, and I’d
declared that I wasn’t interested in dating anyone else. Back to my
old habit.

“
You don’t have to apologize
for your past,” she said, firm resolve in her voice. “The delivery
of the news could have been… Well, strike that. Everything happens
for a reason.”