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"Or your filthy fantasies," Janine quips and gives me a wink.
"I hope so." I take another drink of my beer.
I check out earlier than usual, citing a late night, and everyone goes “Uh-huh” and gives me the eye.
"Serious," I say, holding my hands out in supplication. "India's at the hospital and won't be coming back to my place tonight, so calm yourselves. And remember, nothing about this to India until I give you the a-okay. It'll be when she feels comfortable, okay?"
I make a point of looking them all in the eye. To a person – with the exception of Janine, who is recalcitrant – they nod.
"Janine?"
"Oh, all right," she says and waves her hand. "I'll zip my lips, but don't make me wait too long."
"I hope it won't be too long, but that's up to India."
We say goodnight and I leave, enjoying the friendly and casual relationship I have with my staff. It’s only possible because they are truly professional in the office and I know I can reply on them to do the work and do it right.
I return to my apartment and take off my clothes, then pace around like a caged lion, feeling like I want India here right now so I can calm down and get some sleep after a good fuck. I want her in my bed. I want to wake up with her beside me.
I'll be sleeping alone at least until Saturday.
It's going to be a long night.
The next day goes fast, and it's almost eight when I finally leave work and go home for a quick shower.
MARINA: Are you coming tonight? I have your next match coming by at around nine to meet you. I think she's right up your alley.
JON: Yes, I said I would. I'll be there. Just remember my terms – if I don’t want to go on a date with her, no harm, no foul. I'll meet her and give her a chance to wow me but after that, it's entirely up to me.
MARINA: And her, of course. She may not like you when she meets you, but we won't know that until you two meet. See you at nine.
JON: I'll be there.
I dress in something a little classier and check myself out in the mirror. I look presentable. I know India likes this suit and the shirt-tie combination, since she picked it out for me once when we were in New York for a conference and my suitcase had been lost in transit. The suit is black, and the shirt white, the tie a deep blue. India says it plays off the color of my eyes. The way she looked at me when I put it on in the store said all I needed to know. It passed muster.
I take my SUV and drive to Marina's place, parking on the street for a quick escape if I want to make one, and walk into her house. The sky is dark, and the interior of her house is lit up with a warm yellow light. Music wafts to me as I walk up the path to her door. I enter, checking the place out to see who's there. I see a few of Pacifica’s staff, and a bunch of people I don’t know. After saying hello to my staff and giving them the reminder not to talk about India and me, I'm accosted by a smiling Marina who has a pretty blonde woman in tow. That's apparently my date.
In any other circumstances, I'd be licking my lips when I see her and realize she's there for me, but now? Now, I feel deflated.
Yeah, she's attractive. Tall, built, a real blonde, perfect teeth, and perfect breasts underneath a silky dress.
"Jon," Marina says, her voice carrying across the room. "There you are!"
She pulls my date across the room and stands her in front of my like she's a specimen rather than a person.
"Here she is," Marina says, her eyebrows wagging in this ridiculous way. "MATCHED's latest match for you. Jon, this is Cindy. Cindy, this is Jon. You already read his profile. You two are almost a perfect match. Please – enjoy each other! I have to go and take care of business."
She smiles at the two of us, and then leaves, and it's then I see India walk in from the patio. She looks fantastic, dressed in this amazing black dress with thin straps that shows all her curves in a sexy but not too trashy way. Her dress is to her knee, and she's wearing my favorite strappy sandals that play off her shapely calves.
God, she's a sight for sore eyes.
I smile at her, forgetting Cindy for a moment, and she sees me, but she's not smiling back. Behind her is a tall dark bearded guy wearing a very fashionable suit. He takes her arm and leans in to say something to her over the sound of the music, which is a touch too loud.
I hate him.
Instantly, I want to go over there and plow him one in his handsome face. Yeah, I can recognize a handsome man when I see one. I'm secure in my sexuality. This guy is definitely debonair, in a Clark Gable kind of way. Dark eyes, neatly trimmed beard, taller than India by a foot at least, well-dressed, hair slicked back and a bit longer.
He whispers in her ear and the two of them laugh, and India glances surreptitiously in my direction.
