Page 41 of Playing By The Rules

But tonight’s date feels like an event I could splurge on a little.

I ended up at a shopping center in town where I bought an entire outfit for myself, plus a new pair of shoes. Shit, I even bought new socks and underwear, reassuring myself that it’s all stuff I needed. I never go shopping, so I may as well take advantage while I’m here.

It’s not like I’m trying to impress Blair tonight. That’ll just give her hope that I’m taking whatever this is between us seriously, and I’m not.

No way can I actually think I have a chance with Blair.

After exiting the department store, loaded down with two bags full of stuff, I find myself wandering into one of those beauty/makeup stores, the place full of women. I’m the only guy there beyond a couple of employees. I immediately go to the men’s cologne section, thinking I might find something new for myself, but somehow, inexplicably, I end up in the women’s perfume section instead.

Directly in front of the Gucci display.

Goddamn, they make a lot of different perfumes. I rack my brain, trying to remember the name of the perfume Blair wears, and I’m standing in front of the display, slightly panicked when I hear a sweet voice come from behind me.

“Can I help you?”

I turn to find a woman about my mother’s age, standing in front of me, clad in all black with vivid red lipstick coating her lips. “Uh…”

“Are you looking for something in particular?” she presses.

“I can’t remember the name of it. I know it’s a Gucci perfume.” I’m starting to sweat from the pressure and I deal with pressure all the damn time out on the field, without ever freaking out like this.

“As you can see, there are plenty to choose from.” She waves her hand at the variety of perfumes on display. “Maybe one of the newer ones?”

“Maybe.” I’m hesitant only because, shit, I don’t know.

“This one was released recently.” She grabs a turquoise blue bottle from the shelf and that’s when it hits me. I remember Blair saying it was in that color bottle.

“Pretty sure that’s it.” I take the bottle of perfume, confused when she also hands me a thin white paper stick. “What’s that for?”

“It’s a blotter. You can spray the perfume onto it to see if it’s the correct one,” she gently suggests, waving the blotter at me.

I take it and aim the perfume nozzle at the paper stick before I spray. The scent hits me immediately, before I even bring the blotter to my nose, inhaling deeply. That’s it. The scent that Blair always wears.

The scent that practically brings me to my knees every time I catch a whiff of it.

“We offer a variety of sizes. Are you wanting to buy this as a gift?” the woman asks, her delicate brows lifting in question.

She already owns it. I hold the blotter stick to my nose again, taking another deep whiff. Floral and light and perfectly Blair. I wonder how long the scent lasts on paper.

“Sir?” the clerk asks when I still haven’t said anything.

“What about that small size.” I reach for the bottle that’s no bigger than a writing pen, holding it up. “How much is this?”

She quotes the price, and since it’s not awful, I somehow find myself at the register making the purchase. I don’t know what I’m going to do with this perfume. I sure as hell am not going to give it to Blair because she already owns it and would probably ask me what the fuck is it for. And I’m definitely not giving it to my mom, like I told Blair I would. The last thing I want is for my mom to smell like the woman I am in hot pursuit of, even though I shouldn’t be chasing after her.

Hot pursuit. That’s not necessarily true. I’m not chasing Blair. Not really. There are a million reasons why it would never work between Blair and me. Yet here I am, buying a perfume because she wears it. Buying new clothes so I can look good for her later tonight when I pick her up.

I’m acting like this is a date when it absolutely cannot be.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Once I’ve made my purchase, I hightail it out of there and head back to my apartment, jumping right into the shower the second I get home. I think of Blair as I stand under the hot spray of water and scrub my head with shampoo, and what I did to her last night.

Touching her like I did. Though she started it. Resting her hand on my leg. Sliding it up, curling her fingers around the inside of my thigh.

Then I remember how I rested my hand on top of hers to keep it there, and yeah, I’m just as much to blame as she is.

She brushed those fingers right across my cock and it sprang to life.

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