Let Us Eat Cake (2 page)

“As a matter of fact, no. This is my first time here.”

“Weird that we should happen to cross paths then.”

“Or fate,” he said. He grinned. “What do you study?”

“Anthropology.”

He nodded. “So are you going to analyze the flirtation techniques of old flames then?”

“So you
are
flirting,” I said. “I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know if you really remembered me from… Well, you know.”

“Of course I remember.”

“But you chose Chloe Sanderson instead of me.”

I couldn’t believe I had blurted it out like that. All those years of pent-up insecurity and angst came out into the open.

“I was young and stupid,” he said. “It was the wrong choice. I know better now.”

“Do you?” I didn’t want to seem too desperate after laying all my cards on the table.

“Let me prove it to you. Come over.”

“I have a paper to write.”

“What happens if you’re a very bad girl and don’t get your work done?”

“Um, well, I could fail.”

“You won’t fail. You’re too smart to fail. I think you should take the night off and come back to my place. I have a record player and some Dylan records.”

“Get out. You do?”

He nodded. “You really got to me that night, you know. You turned me into a fan.”

This kind of thing had never happened to me before. I was not the girl who got hit on, certainly not by guys who told me I made an impression on them. It didn’t happen when I went out to bars—which I almost never did—nor did guys talk to me in my classes and least of all at the store. I owed it to myself to let Jeff flatter me a little more.

“You’ve convinced me. Let’s have cake,” I said. My usually sensible self took the back seat while a flirty side I had entirely forgotten about came out.

“My place?” He asked. “I’m not too far from here.”

“What about my roommate? She’s the one who wanted cake, after all.”

“Let’s pick her up one of those frozen chocolate ones and drop it off on the way.”

Chapter Two

Jeff carried the frozen cake to the checkout. He placed it on the black roller along with some whole grain cereal, berries and juice. From the looks of it, he was a sensible eater. I had the carrot cake and my other produce. I tried to pull the chocolate cake into my pile, but Jeff put his hand out to stop me.

“No way. This cake is a fate cake. I’m buying it.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t
have
to. I want to.”

I was a little relieved as my student budget wasn’t exactly conducive to multiple desserts.

Outside, Jeff hit a clicker on his key chain and up ahead, I saw a gray sports car flash its amber lights and squeal into the winter evening. He must have been busy since graduation.

“It’s happy to see you,” I said.

“Yeah, Bessie. My loyal companion.”

“So she’s a she?”

“Sure. Why not? I take good care of her,” he said.

He opened the door for me. I got in and wondered what I was doing in Jeff Connoly’s car after dark. This was not what my mother had taught me—that was for sure. She didn’t care for Jeff back then. I wondered how she’d feel now.

As I directed Jeff to my place, I had a strong sense that he was one of the good ones. The guy watched his fiber intake, after all.

“Honey, I’m home,” I called into our basement suite. The entrance was into the kitchen and I knew I had to raise my voice for Savannah to hear me in the living room. “And I’m leaving again.”

“You’re what?” Savannah came to see me.

I handed her the frozen cake. “I met a guy.”

“You did?” She gave me a questioning look that my mother would have approved of. It suggested I was nuts.

“This guy Jeff. We went to high school together,” I said, rather convincingly.

“Well, where is he?”

“Waiting in the car.”

“He has a car?” She shrugged. “Well, then.”

I laughed. Our world was so sparse and frugal that things like cars seemed exotic.

* * * *

When we got to Jeff’s building, he used another clicker to open the parking garage. We entered into an enclosed concrete space. Before long, we were in an elevator. He pressed the number fourteen, just beneath the penthouse suite.

He opened the door for me and turned on the lights. Immediately, chill music played like we were at a lounge. The lighting was soft, mostly indirect lights that shone onto paintings and bookshelves and a gorgeous cabinet. This place was slick.

“Whoa. What do
you
do for a living?” I asked, perhaps tactlessly and too soon.

“I’m an accountant.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, it’s not sexy. I usually don’t lead with that.”

“I have nothing against it. I still suck at math, that’s all.”

He took my parka off. I pulled my two outer sweaters over my head and passed them to him. It was warm enough in his apartment to dress like a regular person, which was a real luxury.

“What do you do now?”

“When I’m not studying anthropology, I work at the registrar on campus. I guess that sounds kind of boring, too. I also write poetry and sometimes read it out at open mic night at The Cat’s Eye Lounge.”

“That’s something I’d love to see.”

“Well, play your cards right and maybe,” I said in a teasing way.

“Thing is,” he said, “I’m not the card-playing kind. I’ve outgrown games.”

“This from a guy who wanted me to chase him to the cakes? Ha!”

He looked at me as though he was surprised by my comment.

“Are you going to offer me some cake or are you going to make me chase you again?” I didn’t know where this brazen side was coming from, but I felt sassy and that was grand.

“You’re feisty, aren’t you?” he said, leading me to his kitchen. It was one of those perfect condo kitchens with a bowl of green pears on the counter that looked like it had been stage directed. It was spotless.

“I can be,” I said.

“I like feisty,” he said.

“Oh good. Are we having tea, too?” I asked.

“I was just about to offer.”

“Okay. So I’m in good hands. Just checking.”

“You’re in better hands than you probably realize. I happen to have the most amazing chai tea you’ll ever try, and it goes perfectly with carrot cake.”

“Bring it on.”

“Oh, I will,” he said. He stood so close to me that I could feel the heat emanating from him. His warmth beckoned.

As Jeff got out small plates and boiled water, we talked about his workplace, where he’d been for three years, and that had allowed him to purchase a home and a fancy car even though it didn’t exactly encourage his imagination.

“How do you keep yourself stimulated?” I asked as we sat down to eat cake. If I were able to wink, I would have.

“Well, get to know me better and you’ll find out.”

“Is that a dare?”

“Most definitely.”

The cake and tea were delicious. We’d no sooner finished than Jeff cleared our plates and said, “Why don’t we retire to the living room?”

This guy was too much. Not only did he have nice silverware and dishes, but he actually cleaned them up after using them. Incredible.

I sat down on his couch. He came in, flipped a switch and sat down next to me. He started the fireplace.

“Is that real?”

“Sort of. The fire’s real. But it’s all butane.”

“Swanky!”

He smiled. “I guess so.”

“You’re like Ben Stiller in
Reality Bites
, aren’t you?”

“Huh?” He was clearly perplexed. His eyebrow arched.

“You’ve never seen it? How did you miss it?”

He shook his head and shrugged.

“Oh my God. It’s a nineties classic. Winona Ryder is this artsy, poetic chick whose got this hunky but scruffy boyfriend played by Ethan Hawke. Anyway, she meets this other guy, the Ben Stiller guy, and he’s got all this swank about him and well, he’s no sexy grunge guy, but he whisks her off her feet because he’s even hotter.”

“So…” He looked quizzical. “You have a boyfriend?”

There was some hesitation in his voice and it made me wonder if he hoped I was single. I sure wondered if he was.

“No. I just… I’ve never gone out with an accountant.”

“I’m glad you told me that,” he said.

“You are?”

“Yes. One question. Would you have gone for me back in high school?” The second he asked, he looked exactly as I remembered him back then. He was gawky and a bit unsure of himself.

“Of course I would have. I was actually kind of expecting you were going to ask, but then you didn’t.”

“I heard you thought I was a dork.” He stated this allegation with confidence, as though it was merely something to observe.

“Who said that?” I blurted. Anachronistic anger poured from me.

“It’s in the past. It probably doesn’t matter anymore. You know, I had a feeling about you even back then.”

A feeling? About me?
It was hard to imagine the hot guy in front of me having ever had any feeling about me.

“You did?”

He smiled. “I like you, Rachel Perkins.”

I laughed, and for some reason could not meet his gaze. He brought out some timid aspect of me.

Then, without warning, he leaned in, closed his eyes and kissed me. His lips were soft. Seductive. I was not a kiss-on-the-first-date type of girl and this was not even a date, so I was really shocked, but his lips were everything I longed for, if I was honest with myself.

“You are sexy,” he said quietly. Then he kissed me again. “I bet you get told that all the time.”

I shook my head. “No.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“So don’t.”

He kissed me again. Before I knew it, I was on top of him, straddling his lap like we’d known each other forever and were about to make love. His body felt right to me, like we were puzzle pieces that fit together snugly.

“Can I take this off?” He tugged at my shirt.

I nodded. He unbuttoned my blouse slowly and took it off. Beneath that was a tight T-shirt.

“What about this,” he said, tracing the neck line. “Can I take this off too?”

I nodded. I wished I’d worn my nice bra, but I had not expected this. As it was, the one I had on was pink with tiny black polka dots. When Jeff saw it, he looked pleased. He touched the strap, treating it with great care.

My skin tingled at his touch. Before long, he held me in his arms. He gave me a long, lingering kiss. Meanwhile, with his other hand, he unclasped the last layer between me and his bad influence. He pulled it off me and tossed it to the empty section of his couch, all the while staring at my breasts.

“Oh, Rachel,” he said. “I have fantasized about this for years and years.”

“Really?” I was flattered. “Did you ever masturbate to the idea of me?” I didn’t know where the question came from, but there it was.

“Hell, yeah. By the time we had that night on the beach, I’d probably pictured your tits at least a hundred times, if not more.”

“Oh?” Playfulness came over me. “And what were you doing to me in your fantasies?”

“You really want to know?”

I nodded.

“Bad stuff, Rachel.”

“Well, now you have to tell me.”

He reached out and cupped my breasts, fondling them and holding them up. He played with my nipples and got me to moan even more than in the bakery. He knew my weakness. I was so wet at that point already. I squirmed on his lap and he pulled me nearer to his mouth. He sucked on my nipples, taking me to the brink of ecstasy with his tongue.

“In your imagination were you titty-fucking me?” I asked.

He nodded, still providing ample suction. The arousal peeled my guard down completely.

“Did you imaging coming on my tits?” I asked.

Briefly, he stopped so he could talk. He said, “Oh yes.” Then he went back to sucking my nipples, alternating back and forth until I wanted nothing more than to ride him to orgasm.

“And now that you have my tits?”

“I want nothing more than to fuck you the way you need to be fucked.”

“You do?”

“Oh yes.”

“Right now?” I asked, wondering if he could tell how desperately I craved it.

He ran his hands up and down my back, then brought them around to the waist of my jeans. He traced his way to the top button and the zipper, which he undid without words. I got up from his lap so I could take my jeans off and questioned for a brief moment whether it was really a good idea to have sex with a guy who’d left me heartbroken long ago. In my lusty state, I concluded that it was more than a good idea, it was downright victorious. I stripped down to nothing. Thankfully I kept my bush trimmed in spite of not having had sex in a while.

Jeff stood, too, and began to undress. First he took off his shirt. I admired his hot body, and how buff he was. It was really something for an accountant to be able to maintain that kind of six-pack. He undid his jeans next, watching me the whole time.

“Do you know that you could have been a stripper?” I asked.

“Oh yeah? You like what you see?”

I nodded.

He took off his fitted boxers and presented his package. He was already semi-hard. He sat back down on the sectional and took my hand to guide me back to the exact position we’d been in before we’d taken our clothes off.

“Come here, baby,” he said.

I straddled him and he held onto my hips like he was placing me exactly where he wanted me to be.

“I know you want to ride my cock.”

He did? Was it so obvious?

“I’m wet for you,” I said.

He touched my slick pussy and fed me my own juices, just as he’d done at the store. Then he kissed me.

“Mmm,” he said. “Your pussy tastes good. Makes me want to fuck you.”

He reached behind him and lifted the lid of a wooden box on the bookshelf from which he produced a condom. Maybe this was the place he got it on with all the girls he met at the store. What did it matter? I just wanted his dick.

He rolled the condom onto his hard cock. Then he propped me up again like I was his plaything that he could set down wherever he pleased. That was true.

Slowly, I eased myself onto his enormous dick.