Page 28 of Forever Flustered

“Oh mercy,” he whimpered helplessly, wanting and craving someone to look at him, to tease him, to offer him comforts just like this. Is this the feeling that Bode found with Flora? Was this what relationships were like? Would Maureen really be interested in him, or was this a sick joke, a tease, the sweetest torture known to man… and then he heard a sound.

He heard someone try the doorknob to his office. His eyes shot open, his head snapped in the direction like an animal keenly aware of a new threat on the horizon, and paused – waiting. It was probably just someone emptying the wastebaskets of the offices, but that was enough to bring him out of his trance, his delusion.

Or was it?

That voice in his head was getting more persistent and much louder the more he thought about her. It was like an infection that spread, took hold, and something you couldn’t shake without severe loss – and he felt it in his soul, more than he wanted to admit.

Clicking reply, he began to type, completely unsure of what to do or what to say, but a part of him was desperate to see how things played out… after all – none of this was real.

Dear Maureen,

You’re a bold one, aren’t you?

If I’m reading your email and inferring things correctly, then perhaps we should address what becoming ‘friends’ looks like to you. You’re giving my ego quite a boost with all the flattery about my eyes, but they are just a colorless, dull shade – nothing quite as exotic as your eyes. Your eyes remind me of a polished agate, so many variations, so much beauty, a warm rainbow of hues that can hardly be described with words.

Your invitation is tempting. What would ‘come here’ look like? I’ve never had a massage. The offer is attractive because my neck is killing me. I would never take advantage of your generosity, though - but I might become a customer if that was an actual, genuine offer extended to a ‘douche’ like me. I guess I’m just surprised, a little hopeful, and maybe I just need a few more details.

I still have your card, if I need to schedule something.

‘Psp-psp-psp’ to you too…

Eli

It was almost two days before Eli got a reply from Maureen – and his world turned upside down.

CHAPTER 10

MAUREEN

Maureen wasn’t looking forward to her Friday appointment with Mallory Parr because she had no clue what to say. There was no mistaking Eli’s email response, but she wasn’t sure how exactly to answer him. She was in dangerous territory and slightly in over her head. The only ‘outlet’ for questioning or assistance seemed to be devoutly intent on them giving a relationship a try – despite everything.

Matchmaking, blind dates, and ‘Hey, you two should go out!’ comments had never worked for her in the past. Usually, single men stayed single for a reason – and she was finding that the older she got, the shallower that dating pool seemed to appear. It was like all the younger ‘kids’ were pairing up, figuring things out – right, wrong, or otherwise. People were marrying, divorcing, or simply messing up their lives - leaving women in their thirties or forties stuck sorting through the messes… like her.

There was something about Eli that seemed different. He was single – yes.

He came off as arrogant and snobby – also ‘yes’. He was possibly her age or a bit older, which raised a red flag in the air. It had her wondering if he was secretly some closet weirdo, spent time licking concrete for fun, or had some twisted fascination with feet… and despite all her hesitations?

You couldn’t ignore the facts.

Eli ‘Archangel’ Hall was breathtaking in a way she never anticipated, and it had stuck with her long beyond that initial meeting. Every time she closed her eyes, Maureen pictured his standoffish stance… and a part of her melted. He was like a beautiful statue that could come to life – and she’d seen that light in his eyes, that flicker of interest, that spark of something more… even if he thought he was hiding it from the world. Emailing him was more dangerous than she realized because it gave her a glimpse into how his mind worked… and it allowed for interpretation. She was putting her thoughts, hopes, and imagination into those spaces in between his words, allowing for something to build - that might not actually be there.

She had drafted an email but hadn’t sent it yet. It seemed crazy to invite a stranger to her region of the world on a whim, but then again, she’d already offered to rub his body with oil – literally.

“Because I’m a freakin’ moron,” she muttered under her breath. “You’ve fired clients for getting too fresh before, but now you are the one dishing it out.”

Re-reading her email to him once more, she bit her lip.

Psp-psp-psp,

I thought you were interesting at your brother’s wedding, which is why I gave you my card. I’m still interested, maybe even more so, but I have questions too that probably should be handled in person. Maybe it’s my biological clock, maybe it’s loneliness, maybe it's sheer delusional hope on my part… but I think you’re nice.

You asked what ‘come here’ would look like?

A long flight for you, a visit here, a date with me, and a massage – but only if things aren’t weird or awkward between us. I do reserve the right to change my mind, so don’t be a creep or think this is an open ticket for a ‘booty-call’. Sorry for the candidness, but that cannot be left up to chance because no one needs to get maced or tasered, now do they?

I want to talk. I want to see if my imagination matches the man before me – and that can’t be done via email. We’re both adults. We can be open, talk freely, handle this tactfully - and with respect… and if this doesn’t work out, then we can part as friends once more.

Let’s stop with the games and dancing around this – if you need it spelled out, then that’s what this email is. I’m interested, but I can’t wrap my mind around a few key things that need more – and that ‘more’ has to come from your end, in person, so we can ask the hard questions without having to wait a day, two days, or more.