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“You think? You don’t think he was just being nice?”
“I’ve heard a lot of stories about Mr. Felici. None of them involve him being nice.”
“What kind of stories?”
“Never mind. It doesn’t matter. What matters is we can afford to pay the rent. Huzzah.” She claps her hands together. “You can afford it, sorry.”
“You really think we should cash it? What if he asks for it back?”
“That’s on him. You left him a message. He’s texted back, I say we cash this bad boy and get ourselves something crazy with it.”
“Pizza or Chinese?”
“Let’s go insane and get both.”
“You wild woman.”
“You knew I was profligate with cash when you moved in with me.” She grins.
“Next thing you’ll be saying you want a full portion of rice each rather than splitting one.”
“Woah, let’s not go crazy.” She hands me back the check. “Seriously, it’s not mine.”
“We’re splitting it and that’s an end to the matter.”
“I refuse to accept.”
“Tough. I’ll be offended if you refuse. You’re having half and that’s all there is to it.”
“Okay, sorry. I won’t mention it again.”
Her saying sorry reminds me of saying sorry to him. I think back to him telling me that if I said it again, he’d spank me. My ass tingles at the thought. For the first time in my life, I can imagine a man’s hand on me. I can picture his thick fingers slapping my buttocks, my panties around my thighs, my legs kicking as I squirm in his lap. Or maybe bent over the end of his desk as he acts like this is a perfectly disciplinary procedure with a recalcitrant staff member.
Where are these thoughts even coming from?
I realize Cathy’s still talking, waving her hand in front of my face. “You still there, Fee?”
“Yeah,” I say, blinking away the thoughts that came unbidden into my mind. “Oops, might have wandered off a bit. What did you say?”
“I asked if you were going to the library tomorrow.”
“Yeah, probably, why?”
“Because you could cash the check at the same time. Our wonderful super would be off our backs by tomorrow night. Wouldn’t that be something?”
“It sure would,” I think, wondering if Mr. Felici will call me back. More importantly, do I want him to? Do I want to feel those things I’ve never felt before? The touch of his hand on mine sending electrical jolts deep into my soul. The way I felt looking up into his eyes, my stomach doing cartwheels, my heart thumping so hard it almost leaped out of my body.
It was just the panic attack. That’s all. My emotions were heightened so I felt a stronger bond to him than the situation warranted. That’s all it is.
Doesn’t explain why it’s never happened with any man before, of course, but let’s not think about that.
Doesn’t matter anyway. I could want all the babies in the world with him but as I’m not going to see him again, so what? I can chalk it up to experience.
At least I know I can be attracted to a man other than Cary Grant. That’s something. Sure, it’s a quajillionaire with no reason to ever see me again but at least it shows my desire gland isn’t a desiccated piece of dried coconut. It does have a spark of life to it. Shame it’s been wasted on a man I’ll never see again. A man simply known as the ogre. Bad juju as the bum outside the building said to me.
Yet, Vincenzo Felici is also a man with eyes I could drown in and a lap I could happily squirm in all day long, especially after I’ve said, “Sorry,” one too many times.
None of this matters. I’m never going to see him again.
