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We walk to her front door, laughing about something Thomas said, and she turns to me before unlocking the door.
"He actually said he’s been told he was a great conversationalist." She rolls her eyes. "Can you believe it? He's one of the worst I've ever met. And I've met a few."
"He's a jerk," I say and lean my arm against the wall beside the door. "Be glad you know that now. No harm, no foul. But Marina better get her questionnaire fixed if she wants to be a success. She needs real results, not flops."
"She will," India says with a sigh. "Thanks for the ride."
She's smiling at me, her eyes soft, and without thinking I lean in, a smile on my face, and kiss her – like kissing her goodnight is the most natural thing in the world. She stands as still as a statue, and when I pull back, her expression is one of shock.
"What was that for?" she asks in a tiny voice.
"You deserved at least a kiss goodnight after your bad date," I say, my voice husky for some reason. "I took pity on you, I guess."
An expression of pain passes over her face. "I don't need your pity, Jon."
Oops.
She turns and enters her code on the keypad to open her door, and I can see right away that I've pissed her off.
"I didn’t mean that," I say quickly, hoping to recover. I stand up straighter, my brain working furiously to find a way to salvage things between us. "I meant, I felt affection for you after what you'd been through and it just came naturally. Not pity. Sympathy."
"Yeah, right," she replies and opens her door. Even in the low light of her front porch, I can see the blush rise on her cheeks. "I don't need your pity or your sympathy."
She's embarrassed that I felt sorry for her.
Fuck. What a dope.
"Seriously," I say, trying to make things right between us. "I don't pity you, India. You know that. I wanted to be your partner because I admire you. I don't feel sympathy for you. I felt your pain. I've been on bad dates before. Believe me."
"Keep saying it and maybe you'll convince yourself," she says and closes the door in my face.
Crap.
Not a good end to the night. Here I was, trying to make her feel better by kissing her affectionately and I ended up hurting her feelings and making her feel embarrassed. And angry at me.
We need to be simpatico on things. We need to be on the same page and cool with each other.
This was not good for our working relationship.
I exhale in frustration, leaving the front porch and returning to my car. Before I drive off, I text her.
JON: I don’t pity you. I pity the poor sonofabitch who's such a boring idiot that he didn’t know what a gem he had on a date and blew it. I care about you, India. I want to see you happy. That's all. Don't take it the wrong way.
Then I drive off, making my way down the curving highway and back to my own loft apartment in an old converted warehouse near the waterfront. I park the SUV in my spot and climb the stairs at the back of the warehouse loading dock, then take the stairs to the top floor where I live. I have the entire floor to myself and did all the work. It's a great space with huge windows on every wall and an open concept, all brick and exposed ductwork and hardwood floors. I love the open feel of the place and how it affords me a view of the San Francisco bay.
I strip my clothes off and have a quick shower, thinking while I scrub myself clean that I hope India gets over her hurt feelings.
Usually I'm good with words, and can finesse my relationships with people. I tend to get a bit defensive with India because she's so important to my life and my business and future. I want to protect her from hurt and from harm, so when I saw how disappointed she was with her bad date, I wanted to comfort her, but blew it.
The kiss – a mistake.
She doesn't want a pity kiss from me. She wants a business partner and friend.
That's what we've always been, and that's what I'm determined to ensure we stay.
I can't deny that I felt real affection for her when I kissed her, though, and for just a minute, my mind goes there – me on a real date with India, taking her home after, fucking her into mindlessness. So, there I am, standing in the shower, my hands soapy and my mind on India, and I start to stroke my rapidly hardening dick. Before I know it, I'm beating off
to thoughts of India. I can't help where my mind goes when I'm in that moment of lust. Images of India in her tiny bikini when we go surfing together come to my mind unbidden. I can't help but think how delicious her curves are. She has great tits and a nice shapely ass. The kind a man wants to grab hold of and pump hard while he fucks her.
