Going Down: The Elevator Series (12 page)

He looked back and forth between the cat on his lap and me. “Huh.”

“What?” I handed him one of the water bottles.

“I can’t quite put my finger on it, but you two look alike. It’s something in the eyes.” He continued to alternate glances between my half-blind cat and me.

I rolled my eyes. “There was an incident. I don’t even want to talk about it right now.”

Cole returned his gaze to Leroy. “It’s like he’s staring into my soul, Cici,” he whispered.

“I know. He does that when his food bowl gets low. Just go with it.”

“How do you think he would feel if I kissed his mother again?”

“Well, I know how his mother would feel.” I pulled him toward me while Leroy jumped to the floor, undoubtedly offended. Cole slid his hand up my back and into my hair. My hands took that as their cue to nestle themselves in his tresses as well. He reclined the rest of the way on the couch, while I settled on top of him. I loved the way his firm body felt under mine.

I think I hear choirs of angels singing.

No, wait. Definitely not angels.

That’s Leroy throwing up.

“Son of a—” I jumped up and sprinted for the paper towels while my devil pet heaved at an unnecessary volume.

“What’s wro—oh, dear God!” Cole didn’t have a chance to finish his question before the cat vomit started coming. And coming. “Did he just puke up an eyeball? What is that thing?”

“It’s my contact lens.” I sopped up the mess with the paper towels. “I’m only going to be seeing in two dimensions until I can order a new box on Monday.” I turned to Cole. “Who’s ready to eat?”

***

Dinner was as romantic as one can muster after you’ve seen an animal vomit up foreign objects. Leroy was banished to the bedroom while Cole and I talked and ate. We both steadfastly avoided the topic of work, although we did seem to have an endless number of funny stories about our brothers to compare.

“How did he get it up on the roof?” I asked, through wheezing laughter.

“John refuses to tell to this very day. Which means, it was likely something illegal and the statute of limitations still hasn’t run out yet.”

I’d never been with anyone who made me laugh as much as Cole. It felt good. I didn’t want to be
that
girl, but I couldn’t help picturing how gorgeous and hilarious our children would be.

The father of my imaginary children interrupted my thoughts. “Can I help you clear the table?”

“No, leave everything. I’ll clean it up in the morning.” I made my best attempt at a seductive face. “I can think of better ways to occupy our time.”

Cole stood, wrapped his arms around my waist, and pulled me toward him. “Can you now? Whatever did you have in mind?”

“Well, I was thinking about reorganizing my closet…”

Why do I keep talking?

“Wrong answer,” he said firmly. In one movement, he slung me over his shoulder, smacked my backside, and headed down the pretend hallway. He opened the bedroom door, freeing the loudly protesting feline. I bounced twice when he tossed me on the bed.

I need to get one of those beds where the wine glass doesn’t move when you drop a bowling ball next to it.

“I think we can use our time a little more wisely than that.” He kneeled on the bed to remove each of my shoes. He kissed the tops of each foot near my ankles. “We have an actual bed to work with this time. This is going to be fun.”

I couldn’t get my brain to work fast enough to say anything. He slid my skirt down my legs at a pace so slow I was certain I would lose what was left of my mind. My breathing could probably be heard three states over. I sat up and unbutton his shirt, when I felt soft fur brush my arm. Leroy plopped down next to me and began bathing his sausage and eggs. Technically, I suppose it was just his sausage since his eggs had been snipped a while ago.

“You have got to be kidding me. Leroy, off.” I tried nudging him with my arm while continuing to work on Cole’s shirt. Naturally, he bit my arm and went back to his bath.

“Leroy!” I yelled. Before I could utter another word, my bedside table began buzzing. The sound was loud enough to scare off the discourteous cat.

Cole stopped kissing my uninjured arm, seemingly unaware of the short battle that had just transpired. “What’s that noise?”

It was then that I realized exactly what the noise was.

Oh, this is not happening. What did I do to deserve this karmic retribution?

“I think there’s something in your nightstand.” Before I could jolt my brain out of its stupor to stop him, he crawled over and opened the drawer. “Oh.”

He didn’t move. He just stared.

I sucked up what little pride I had remaining and moved next to him. We both sat there side by side in silence, watching the pink vibrator shake inside the drawer.

“It came in the mail earlier this week.” I had no idea why I was whispering, or why I thought that would be sufficient explanation.

“Is it defective?” he whispered back. “I don’t think it’s supposed to just go off like that.”

“It’s voice activated.” Again, probably not sufficient explanation.

Cole paused for an extended period of time. “And it responds to your cat’s name?” He concentrated on the device like it was a problem to solve.

“Technically, yes. I was trying to program it, but Leroy jumped on the bed and scared me. I actually forgot about reprogramming it because… I haven’t needed to use it.” My voice sounded three inches tall.

Neither of us looked at the other. Both of our eyes were fixed on the unholy object before us.

“Well then, I guess we’ll just have to program it to respond to a different name.” The devil himself could take notes on Cole’s smile.

I woke up pretzeled around Cole in the center of my bed. Using a mattress had been a serious upgrade to our relationship. My stretching stirred Cole, who pulled me closer to him. I attempted to bat my eyes in a seductive manner, but they still hadn’t adjusted to my partial blindness. I nuzzled the crook of his arm instead.

“Good morning, handsome. How did you sleep?”

“Like a rock.” He kissed the top of my head. “Good morning, gorgeous. Did you sleep well?”

“Very. Thanks in large part to you.” The immature part of me wanted to make a joke about large parts, but the slightly more adult part of me had her sights fixed on making better use of those large parts. I moved my hand past his chest and below his abs to find he was one step ahead of me. I grasped his meatsicle with my right hand. “Well, hello, Mr. Danvers. Someone woke up in a good mood.”

He groaned into my hair. “It’s an occupational hazard when you wake up next to a stunning woman.” His breathing picked up.

“Cole, you should know by now that flattery will get you everywhere.” I sat up, pushing the blankets down his body. Sliding between his legs, I ran my tongue along the length of his shaft.

“Please don’t tease me, Cici.” He looked at me with the most desperate look in his eyes. I almost felt bad for him. Almost.

I blew gently on the tip of his cocktopus and it jerked in response.

“Cici,” Cole responded with a hint of warning behind my name. “You’re not playing fair.”

“Do you want me to play fair, or do you want me to suck your dick?” It came out so suddenly I wasn’t even sure I’d said it out loud.

Cole half sat up. “Whoa! Where did that come from?”

Yep, I said it out loud.

“I’m not entirely certain.” I wasn’t.

“Baby, you need to wash that dirty mouth of yours.”

Maybe I was getting this injection of slutty confidence from being with him outside of the office, but I wasn’t about to squander it. “And what would you suggest I use to clean my mouth?”

“Oh, I can think of something.” His voice grew deeper, and his jizz cannon twitched against my chest as if it were screaming, “Pick me!”

I moved back down and took him fully into my mouth.

The groan Cole let loose reverberated down his whole body. “Fuck yes, baby. Fuck!”

The loudest knock on the planet interrupted what would undoubtedly have been the most spectacular fellatio in the history of mankind. It could only mean one thing.

Maggie is here.

I sprang out of bed with a speed and agility I had no clue I possessed. Jogging to the other side of the bed, I pulled a still stunned Cole upright. “That’s Maggie. I forgot she was getting here at this ungodly hour.” I scanned the bedroom for some type of trap door or portal to provide a means of escape and came up empty. Manhattan apartments were known for their lack of folds in time and space. My eyes landed on the only exit besides the front door—the window. For the first time, I regretted not paying extra to have a small balcony. “How many minutes do you think you can hang off the side of this building, Cole?”

“Sans clothing?” He looked down at himself. “Zero.”

I huffed. “You’re very uncooperative. If you refuse to go out the window, then you’ll have to hide in my closet.” I scampered over and opened that door.

“I hate clichés.” He crossed his arms, stone-faced.

Another volley of door-splintering thumps issued from my entryway.

“I’ll work on a less cliché place to hide your naked behind next time. Just get in the closet.” Shoving him into my rarely used formal wear section, I grabbed my robe off the back of the door. I didn’t have time to address the muffled grumbling coming from inside the closet as I needed to scrub the crime scene. I had the wherewithal to grab the vase of flowers and cram it into a cabinet. As quiet as a one hundred twenty pound mouse, I scurried through the apartment gathering our clothes. I tossed the shirts, shoes, and various undergarments in the closet with Cole. I closed the door and sealed him up like a dead pharaoh with all his worldly possessions.

Just as the next round of banging began, I wrenched the door open to greet Maggie.

Nothing could’ve prepared me for the sight of her.

From the trucker hat perched on her blond head reading, “Show Me Your Freight Shaker” in sequins, to her red plaid shirt tied neatly under her breasts, and the blue camouflage bedazzled mini skirt leading to cowboy boots emblazoned with the American flag, Maggie was sixty-six inches of national pride.

After a protracted silence, I said the only thing that came to my mind. “Maggie, you look like a lumberjack hooker.”

She slipped past me and plopped onto the couch, placing her bag on the floor. “Not exactly the look I was going for, but close enough,” she said, unfazed. Maggie looked me up and down. “You can’t wear that.”

“Geez, I go out in my robe
one time
in college after winning a Goldschläger shot contest, and I have to pay for it forever. Those shots were your idea, might I remind you. If I want to wear my robe to a truck stop, by golly, I will wear my robe to a truck stop!”

She tilted her head and looked at me skeptically. “Did you have someone over last night?”

“Me? What? Why would you—? Me? No. Why?”

I have got to get better at lying.

Maggie shrugged. “You have two plates out.”

I have to get better at covering my tracks, too.

“The second plate was for Leroy. I told you he was sick, so I made his favorite.”
Not bad. That seems plausible.

“His favorite is Chinese takeout?” She looked more confused than before.

Okay, perhaps not that plausible.

“I won’t apologize for having a cat who likes kung pao chicken. Shouldn’t we get going before all the good truckers are gone?”

“I like this enthusiasm! Your outfit is in my bag. Hurry and get dressed because I’m anxious to hit the road. We need to put this baby on the front burner and heat it up. Do you copy?”

“You did not just say that,” I stated incredulously. “How many hours of
BJ and the Bear
did you log last night?”

“Eight. You’re the one who refused to study the lingo sheet I typed up for you, Cici. You won’t have a clue what anyone is saying and then you’re going to look awfully silly.” She adjusted her sparkly hat with a regality that would make her finishing school oddly proud.

I opened my mouth to argue, but I knew nothing could be gained from this debate, so I grabbed her bag and stomped off to the bedroom to change. I peeked in the closet to find Cole looking like a giant E.T. hidden among our belongings. He was using my favorite kate spade Spring 2012—yet purchased in 2013—tote to cover his angry dragon. For some reason, I was more than fine with his man parts being in my mouth, but I wasn’t sure how I felt about them touching my handbags. I would have to dissect that one later.

“I’m trying to shoo her out of here as quickly as possible,” I whispered. “When we leave you can let yourself out and lock the front door with the spare key taped under the coffee table.”

He adjusted the purse to get a better grip on it. “Why would you keep the spare key
inside
your apartment?” he whispered back.

He made a fair point. “Because I don’t always do things that are logical.” My assertive whisper was on point. “Like hide my naked assistant in my closet while our HR director waits in my living room for me to get dressed so we can explore her truck driver fetish.” I exhaled. I needed to reevaluate my life later. After the truck stop.

Pulling open Maggie’s bag, I found a trucker hat emblazoned with “I’m Famous on the Internet,” an extra small T-shirt reading “Lil’ Dwayne’s Fruit Stand,” complete with a melon logo where my melons would be, and what appeared to be an infant-sized pair of cutoff jean shorts.

“You are not wearing those,” Cole whisper shouted from behind my cocktail dresses.

“Excuse me?” I addressed the sequined clothing, as it appeared my overstuffed closet had completely consumed Cole.

“You can’t leave this apartment with your ass hanging out of those shorts,” the after-five wear said.

“Everybody’s a damn critic this morning. I can damn well wear whatever I want.” It just so happened that I had no intention of wearing the jean shorts. They looked like something out of Willie Nelson’s wet dreams. Normally, I wouldn’t wear any part of this ensemble, but I knew Maggie was likely to rummage through my closet for acceptable substitutes if I didn’t at least don the hat and shirt. It was definitely not the ideal time to have her groping around that part of my home.