The American Lover (9 page)

“Okay.”

“And you should know, I get tested regularly and I’m clean because I never have unprotected sex, I
always
insist on using a condom. That way, apart from any health issues, I don't unexpectedly end up being someone’s baby-daddy, either by accident or design.”

I never relied on someone’s promise that they were on birth control, preferring to keep things totally under my control, as procreating was no longer on my agenda.

“Fair enough. Obviously my sexual history is not really an issue here,” Faith smiled.

“So, we’re all good on that front,” I smiled back.

“You know, I really like having things out in the open like this. It makes things so much easier. But if we’re really going to do this, there are a few more things I’d like for us get straight,” she frowned again. It was obvious Faith was a control freak, a worrier, someone who liked to have things totally organized, which I could handle, but no question, Faith Jackson was in no way your average typical female.

“Okay.  Fire away.”

“Do you usually spend the night with your lady friends, or do you just have sex and then go your separate ways?”

“Depends on the circumstances - where we are, time of day, that kind of thing. There’s no set pattern as such.  As far as you and I are concerned, it’ll be entirely up to you how long you stay.  But you should know that I’d really like for you to stay the night, and then share some breakfast with me in the morning, if you’d be up for that?” I wasn’t sure what made me suggest this, as that wasn’t usually the way I operated, but it just seemed the right thing with her somehow.

Faith stared at me.

“To be perfectly honest, Caleb, I have no idea, because I have no idea how I'm going to react, so maybe it’s best we leave it open. And here’s something else you should know. I don't do the whole sexy undies and stockings thing. It makes me feel stupid and awkward and not in the least bit sexy at all. And I know most men like sky high stilettos, but I can't wear them because I just trip and end up making a total prat of myself. All that kind of stuff is just not me.  So if that’s a deal breaker, if you don't think you could manage to… you know… perform… without all that…”

I burst out laughing, because she looked so serious and worried. I'd never had a conversation like this with a woman in my entire life before.

“Faith, that’s just all the wrappings. It’s what’s underneath that counts, so you wear whatever you feel most comfortable with.  All I would say is that to set the mood, it’d be kinda nice to maybe have a little hint of what you always manage to hide so effectively …” I glanced down at her clothes.

Today she was wearing another variation of the unflattering baggy kind of uniform she dressed herself in for work every day. Navy slacks instead of black. Gray baggy top instead of white. As far as I could tell, she probably had a neat body under the layers as she was certainly not overweight in any way, but that was pretty much just guess work.

“You obviously think my wardrobe is shit, just like Harry and my sisters,” she sighed.

“I didn't say that,” I protested.

“You didn't need to. I don't usually dress to tantalize or attract admiring looks, but I’ll try to make more of an effort for this date of ours, I promise. Just don't get your hopes up too high, that’s all. Like I said, I don't have a problem if you want to imagine I’m someone else…”

“You may not have a problem with that, but I sure as hell do, woman! You can't go around saying things like that.  You should have more confidence in yourself.” I was appalled by her self-deprecating attitude, because she certainly wasn’t any kind of a brown bagger.

“I'm just being realistic,” she shrugged. “No point in kidding yourself you’re something you’re not. I know you’d never normally consider sleeping with someone like me, that it’s just a freak set of circumstances that’s given me the opportunity to proposition a sex god like you. That’s why I’m pushing myself to take advantage of the situation, even though I’m pretty much dying of embarrassment here.”

“Sex god? Me?” I smirked.
Not what Cassie thought, was it?

“Oh come on, no false modesty, please! You know I'm punching well above my weight.”

“Please stop saying things like that, because it really pisses me off, to be honest, Faith. Let’s just agree that we’re two consenting adults who’ve decided they’d like to spend some time together, and who may or may not end up having sex. Don't sell yourself short, Faith, because either way, I’ll consider myself a lucky guy just to be spending some time in your company.”

P
art of me was glad that Harriet was away working, and not around to help me decide what to wear for my Valentine’s date with Caleb. She would have practically forced me to wear something sultry and sexy, and that was
so
not me.  I’d initiated things with him, and I’d already decided that if I was going to do this, it had to be on my terms, or there was no point in doing it at all.

I still couldn’t quite believe I was actually going to go ahead with it. I’d picked up my phone to cancel at least half a dozen times during the course of Friday afternoon - Caleb had insisted I take the afternoon off, once we’d completed the assignment by lunch time.

But each time I nearly chickened out, I stopped and asked myself - when was I ever going to get a better chance to finally move on? Despite being so good looking and so experienced, Caleb hadn't laughed at me or turned me down.  Neither had he freaked when I’d laid out some of my worries to him. Instead, he’d promised we would take things at my pace, and that he’d be cool if I wanted to back out at any time. He’d also been responsible, assuring me he was sexually clean, and stating upfront he’d use a condom, which I totally respected. When were things ever going to get better than this?

I sighed as I picked up Drew’s photo.

“I wouldn’t be doing this if you were still around, you do know that don't you?” I whispered as I touched his face. “But you’re not. You went and got yourself killed. And now I have to live the rest of my life without you. So please, don't make me feel guilty.”

It didn't really work. I still felt torn. But that was how it always was. I always ended up torn between yesterday, today and tomorrow. What had been, how it was now, and how to move on into the future.

I showered and undertook all the necessary tedious personal grooming chores. Arm pits and legs shaved, lady garden all neat and tidy. I supposed that was one advantage to being single - nobody knew if you let yourself go.

I let my hair dry loose and straight, instead of scraping it back out of the way as I usually did. It had got really long now, because I hadn't bothered to go to the hairdressers since I couldn’t remember when.

Stan’s tail twitched as he sat watching me while I went through my wardrobe, trying to find something suitable to wear. Even though I assumed the dress code for tonight would be fairly casual, my usual laid back outfit of choice - comfy joggers or jeans and one of Drew’s old T shirts or sweat shirts - was not going to cut it.

“It’s February, it’s cold, and I hate being cold,” I grumbled. “So I’m certainly not wearing anything skimpy or thin.”

Stan meowed as he jumped up on my bed and made for the pale blue knitted sweater dress I’d thrown on there.

“Oh no you don’t. I know it’s nice and soft, but it’s much too good to end up as cat’s bedding.”

I picked it up and looked at it. At least it would be warm, and although it was quite short and clingy, at least that meant I did actually look like a female in it. I held it up against me as I looked in the full length mirror, and decided I could wear it with thick tights and boots.

Tights? Everyone knew guys hated tights. But no problem, because if I did end up in Caleb’s hotel room, I was planning on disappearing into the bathroom to get ready, so he wouldn’t get to see me in them.

Then I could gargle with some mouth wash, and clean my teeth to make sure there was nothing caught in them.  Use the loo. Remove difficult and unsexy items of clothing such as the tights. And while I was in there, he could get undressed, which would avoid all the fumbling around with buttons and zips and socks. Then I could come out wearing my robe, slip into bed and voila! We could get on with doing the deed.

I had it all planned out.

I hated frilly, fussy underwear, but as I took a long hard look at myself in the mirror, I thought the boy shorts and bra set I was wearing wasn’t too bad. White with tiny blue flowers. I didn't have anything sexier, so it would have to do.

My reflection showed that I was skinny, with quite long legs, and a surprisingly large bust for someone of my petite build. I’d been self conscious about my boobs when I was a teenager - until I’d met Drew.

“Skinny girl with long legs and big tits. That’s what I noticed first time I saw you at that party, standing there in your jeans and T shirt,” Drew used to tell me. “And there is nothing sexier on God’s earth than that. And I loved how you were just natural, you weren’t trying too hard, unlike those other girls with all their heavy makeup and slutty clothes.”

I hadn't been interested in anyone else having those kinds of thoughts about me since he’d died, so I preferred to keep myself covered up.

But now?

You know what? Maybe it would feel good to see a look of admiration in Caleb’s eyes, to maybe surprise him just a little. I slipped the sweater dress on, and noticed how it hugged the curves I'd almost forgotten I had. Yep, it would do.

Rather than call a taxi, I drove myself to Caleb’s hotel. That way, if I needed to make a quick escape, I could. Downside was I couldn’t drink much alcohol, but that didn't worry me, I wasn't bothered about booze. It was why I’d never minded if Drew had enjoyed having a few beers when we went out, because I was quite happy to abstain in order to drive us home.

And anyway, alcohol only made you lose control, and I couldn’t risk that, not when I had to keep a tight lid on my feelings at all times. My secret fear was that if I did ever start drinking to try and numb the pain, I probably wouldn’t be able to stop.

Once I got to the hotel, I left my coat and overnight bag at reception, so I’d be able to quickly grab them if things went pear shaped, and I needed to make a quick getaway.  Or I could just collect them on my way up to Caleb’s room, if that was how things panned out. 

Control. I always felt better when I had things under control.

Then I made my way to the hotel bar, where we’d agreed to meet at seven. I took a deep breath as I glanced at myself in the mirror behind the bar, hoping that I looked okay. I hadn't got my glasses on as I found the stupid things really annoying, the way they slipped down my nose all the time, so I only wore them at work or for driving. Now it meant that I couldn’t see too much detail thanks to myopic blurriness, but I didn't seem to look too bad.
There are some things to be said for poor eyesight.

“Punctual.  I like that in a woman.  And wow, you scrub up pretty darn good, Faith.”

Caleb had come up behind me, so now I turned to look at him. His voice was already deep and throaty and sexy, and his American accent just heightened that sexiness. He was wearing a black shirt, no tie, and black jeans.  He looked different out of the expensive kind of suits I’d seen him in at work, but in a good way. As he leaned down to kiss me, his freshly shaved yet still bristly cheek brushed against mine.
God, how I’d missed that ultra masculine touch
.  And he smelt clean and manly, nothing overpowering, just nice. Very nice, actually.

Caleb seemed to turn on some kind of special charm as those amber eyes of his looked into mine, and I instantly felt myself falling under his spell, as they were the kind of eyes you could easily get lost in. As he put his hand on my waist, I couldn’t help shivering in anticipation of what this evening promised.

No doubt about it, I was in the hands of an expert in this whole subtle seduction business. But that was the whole point, that’s what I'd signed up for, so I might as well just let myself be swept along by him.

He smiled his glorious smile at me, and as he let his eyes wander over my body, it gave me some satisfaction to note his spark of interest.

“I’m so glad you agreed to come on this date, Faith, otherwise I'd never have known what I was missing. You look amazing.”

“Thanks.  You don’t scrub up too bad yourself,” I smiled back, flattered by his reaction, but aware that it was all part of an act.

“Would you like a drink here at the bar, or shall we head straight to our table?” Caleb enquired politely.

“Let’s go to the table,” I suggested, as I glanced round at the red Valentine-themed venue. In the corner of the room, there was a smallish dance floor, with a DJ in the process of setting things up.

Great, that would mean we’d have to put up with all the cheesy romantic bilge he’d no doubt be playing this evening. The last thing I wanted was someone droning on about everlasting love and me getting upset.  That’s why I’d taken to listening to Gregorian chants these days to help me relax.

Romance was not on the menu tonight as far as I was concerned, and I just had to hope my nerve was going to hold, as I was feeling ridiculously nervous at the thought of actually getting naked with Caleb. Part of me was really tempted to give into the urge to run out of the door in a blind panic, and pretend this whole thing had been nothing more than a stupid dream.  But I somehow managed to resist the urge by reminding myself that Caleb had promised he’d be totally fine about me changing my mind at any time.

As we were seated, I was presented with a single red rose by the waiter, before he busied himself with lighting the candle on the table.

“Part of the whole Valentine evening experience,” Caleb whispered as he winked at me. “Might as well just go along with it.”

I rolled my eyes, but held my tongue. After all, it’d been me who’d suggested a Valentine’s date, hadn't it?

The waiter hovered impatiently as he waited to take our order. Luckily it was a set menu, so the limited choice made the selection easier for me. I never had a great appetite at the best of times, and being nervous made it even harder for me to think about food.

Before I knew it, a glass of champagne had appeared by my side, even though I hadn't ordered it. No doubt another part of the whole Valentine dinner thing. Rather than churlishly refusing it, I decided I’d just sip it slowly and make it last. I’d still be okay to drive if I needed to, as long as I stuck with just the one glass of champagne.

“So, how long have you worked for the bank?” Caleb asked, once our food arrived. Being a typical guy, he’d picked the steak, while I’d chosen the much lighter poached salmon option, although I noticed he also ordered a green salad to go with his steak instead of chips. I watched fascinated as he did the weird American thing of cutting up his food and then putting his knife down and using just his fork to eat. It seemed such a cack-handed way of doing things, when these Yanks were supposed to be all about efficiency.

“Since I left uni - about six years,” I replied. “I’ve worked in various areas, and it’s probably about time for me to move on again, once this latest project I’ve been working on is up and running. I just haven’t got around to doing anything about it yet.”

“No, I guess that’s understandable, all things considered. But if you wanted, I have connections. I could put out some feelers, point you in the right direction, check your résumé over, that kind of thing. I think you have the potential to do really well, Faith, so I think you should give your career progression some serious consideration,” Caleb offered.

“That’s very kind of you, and I’ll certainly think about it.”
Yeah, right.  Polite chit chat. Caleb helping me was not going to happen once he went back to the States, was it?

“But we shouldn't spend our evening talking about work. What are your hobbies? Do you play any sport at all?” Caleb swiftly moved the conversation on.

“I’m not really sporty.  Team games and I don’t do well together. I’m more of a solitary, long walk kind of person. How about you?”

Anyone like me, who’d always been the last one picked out to join a team, would have an understandable lifelong loathing of team games.

“My work schedule doesn’t really allow for me to play team games these days, but I like to run and I also like weight training,” Caleb told me.

“It shows,” I commented, glancing at his honed and toned body.

“Well, you have to make the effort and find time to exercise when you sit at a desk for a large part of the day. Trust me, I know only too well how easy it is to end up out of shape,” he elaborated. “So, I gather you don't live far from here, from what you said the other day when you gave me a ride?”

“Yes, that’s right. I live in East Sheen, not far from Richmond.  Nothing grand, just a one bedroom flat, part of an old house conversion.”

“Do you rent it?”

“No, I own it, actually.”

Caleb looked impressed.

“You’re doing pretty well then, seeing as property in London is some of the most expensive in the world.  But I guess that means your mortgage repayments must be pretty high,” Caleb probed. I wasn’t sure why he seemed so interested in my finances, but I supposed it was his way of making conversation - he was a banker after all.

“When Drew and I bought the flat a few years back, we got it for a good price because it needed a lot doing to it, which we did ourselves to save money.  And when he set up his own business, we were given what turned out to be good advice about making sure we had sufficient insurance cover. So when Drew died, all the loans and mortgages were paid off, which means I now own the flat outright.  I also got a lump sum, which I’ve invested, along with the proceeds from selling his business.  On top of that, thanks to the type of insurance we had, I also get a guaranteed index-linked income for life. So, not that I ever wanted things to be this way, but I’ve actually ended up better off financially now than when Drew was alive and we were struggling to keep on top of everything. Funny old world eh?”