Emily, Exposed

Ray popped his head in at that moment, he knew enough to know that Emily had it covered but just the same, he popped his head in.

"Guess that's my cue" Paul said, "I'm going to head out. See you later this morning."

"Yeah, can't wait sweetie"; at this he cocked his head, and she realized she'd answered in work mode and corrected, "Paul. Can't wait." He grinned and headed out of the room and out of the club. The rest of the night went by slowly after that; partly because she got stuck dancing for Frank at some point and partly because she was really excited to get home.

After work, she took time showering at the club, just soaking under the water. 'Was this a bad idea?' she thought, ' I'd been honest, but had he? His work was dark, I liked it, but it was dark. And I really know nothing about him. Well nothing verifiable is more like it, he'd told me plenty'. The thought was banished almost in an instant, 'No' she told herself, 'stop thinking this way. You can read people well. And if he was a serial killer this would be the most ineffective way to do it. Your instincts are always right.' That little pep talk was all it took, she hopped right out of the shower and dressed, eager to get home.

Emily made it there by around five and checked the place. Paul had found the obvious spare room and was bunkered down for the night; she could hear him snoring. It was a soft snore, clearly jet lag. She headed to her own room and laid down, exhausted from the night and eager to sleep.

At around eleven she woke up to the sound of the shower running. He was up. 'I better get up too, and not look like a bum' Emily thought, and walked out into the kitchen to try and fix breakfast. Honestly there was no breakfast food. Usually she walked over to a local coffee shop or restaurant for breakfast, saving cooking for dinner. Examining the contents of her fridge there was some milk (probably expired), beer, wine, cranberry juice, some fancy Raley's cheese that she'd tasted, loved, and promptly forgotten about, some lettuce and miscellaneous vegetables-and meat. Lots of varieties, one rack of ribs that she'd gotten the day before in anticipation of her brother coming by. 'I can fix this for dinner,' she thought. It would take about six hours for it to slow cook in the oven but the wait was worth it. What was she going to do with him for six hours?

Suddenly he popped his head out from around the corner, "Morning Emily," he said.

She smiled, "Morning Paul. How did you sleep? "

"I slept fine, that bedroom is kind of noisy though" he shared. Hah, that was why she had picked the back room, the bedroom he was in was actually the master. It was right along the street and it was noisy-the cars, being downtown and by a bunch of bars and nightlife the commotion was just nonstop, even several floors away from the ground.

"Yeah, sorry about that", Emily said "let me make it up to you...I'm starving anyway. Do you do breakfast?"

He smiled, "Does noon still count as breakfast?" She laughed a little, club hours made lunch into breakfast and dinner into lunch. She often didn't eat an actual dinner.

"It does when you wake up at noon" she replied, "plus dinner is going to take a while to cook, you won't last until then."

"Well then, I guess I do breakfast at noon" he said. She was already feeling good about the decision to invite him over, he seemed so easy to please.

"Perfect, there's a great place called 'The Fox and Goose' a few blocks away. Just let me change and we can walk over there."

They walked over to the restaurant and spent the day walking the city, visiting the capitol and a few of the parks. She enjoyed showing him all the places the locals frequent like the downtown pioneer area by the waterfront and a few historical sights. Being from the south and eastern-ish coast, the historical sights weren't that impressive, but he feigned an appropriate amount of interest. She took him to a couple places that used to be speakeasies back in the day, making sure not to drink much herself, but making VERY sure he had something to drink.

After a lot of walking (and a lot of drinking) they headed back to her place. Almost everywhere in the city you can walk as long as you live downtown if you have comfy shoes. By the time they got back the ribs were almost ready; the secret was a beer marinade and spices followed by several hours of slow cooking at 220 degrees in the oven. They walked into the loft to the delicious scent of the ribs almost fully cooked.

"That smells amazing" he said as they came in.

"Yeah, it's the slow cooking," she replied, "it permeates the place. Why don't you get comfortable, I have a couple last steps to do getting them ready." He headed to the back room and she put some sauce on the ribs in to broil for a few minutes and dug around for some dressing to go with the salad conjured up from the lettuce and other miscellaneous vegetables. She found some plates to set the table with and a nice bottle of wine-noting internally that she needed to quit feeding him shots. By the time he came out, dinner was on the table.

"Wow, you did all this in ten minutes?" he said. It was quite the set up and she was showing off; Emily had a lot of practice setting up a dinner table. In her previous relationship, a full three course meal was something her ex insisted upon. It wasn't a good relationship, and Paul was the one to come along and help her recognize that, even from a distance. More than a few times, he'd been violent when it wasn't prepared correctly, and one of the times...

"Is something wrong?" Paul asked. He scanned her eyes and she realized she needed to snap out of this-it would ruin the end of the day thinking about the past. She wasn't with him anymore and never would be again.

"Nothing" she lied, "I just think I forgot to add a third course."

He looked puzzled; "Add a third course? Emily this looks fantastic; a beautiful woman just cooked me dinner. I don't care about courses" with an emphasis on the 'courses'. Such unparalleled sweetness, in that moment she felt so grateful to know a man like him. Someone who saw the trivial for what it was.

Smiling, she replied; "Good, because there's only two, one main one technically. Salad is more of a starter than a main course."

"Oh, well one course, now that's unacceptable" he said joked "is there anything I can help with?"

"You can open that bottle of wine if you'd like. There's an opener in the third drawer."

"I can do that."

She popped some Miles Davis onto the record player and they enjoyed a nice dinner, chatting about a mix of regular run-of-the-mill topics and intense what-is-life discussions. Somehow they landed on movies and Emily was thrilled at the prospect of showing him her collection.

"You like movies? I have over 200, most of them are classics or horror films."

"Two hundred?!" Paul questioned. "I don't mean to question your integrity but I'm going to have to call bullshit. Why would anyone have that many movies?"

"Believe me, I didn't start with the intent of having so many-but with all the cool used music places like Rasputin and F.Y.E. around town-it became a collection."

He lifted an eyebrow and got up, rummaging through the selection he laughed, "How many movies does one person need?". It was true, there was a variety and almost every genre of film. As he set up the Blueray player she cleared the table and threw the remaining dishes in the dishwasher. They settled on "Top Gun" and watched until nearly the end, when he started to doze. She'd skipped work for the night but had exhausted the life out of this poor guy with all the drinking and walking.

"Hey" she woke him gently, "you're exhausted. Get to bed." As Paul picked himself up off the couch Emily went around the place turning off all the electronic devices and setting the alarm. She was tired too, and hopped in the shower once she heard him go into the spare room and just let the water run through her hair. It'd been a good day, a great one, even. He was fantastic, the conversation was witty and he was just as easy to talk to in real life. Scrubbing the day from her body, inhaling the aroma of the H20 sea salt body wash; she could see that he'd used a bit of it too from the way the cap was back on. There was something sexy to her about the fact that he used it too; although she wasn't sure why.

Hopping out she dried her hair and went to find some PJ's. There were a bunch of cute pieces, lingerie, but somehow she didn't picture getting any use out of them tonight, or that he would even care for them if she did. She found a plain shirt and panties, and started snuggling herself under the duvet. Lying there, looking at the plain white ceiling, all she could think about was Paul being only one room away. She wanted to make up a reason to go in-but it would be obvious. The décor in the spare room could best be described as Spartan, there was nothing other than the furniture, nothing to "need" to get. And he hadn't hit on her, not once. He'd been friendly and sweet, held doors open and been a perfect gentleman. It was entirely possible he didn't think of her that way; at the club he seemed interested but she thought, 'I was in my full getup then. Now that we've hung out as friends, and he saw me looking plain and without the enhancements of the lights and outfits, the interest had changed to purely platonic. That was probably it, he...'

"Hey."

Emily pulled herself out of her ceiling trance to see Paul standing in the doorway of her room.

"Hey. Everything okay?" Her inner voice started pleading 'please don't let everything be okay, please make up a reason to come in here...'

"Yeah, everything's okay. I just had a question for you, if you're not too tired. It can wait."

"I'm awake. What's up?"

He leaned against the door frame, relaxing his stance. "Why did you invite me here, to stay?"

Oh. Not at all the question she expected. Coolly, she sat up and replied, "What do you mean, why? I don't know...I just felt like hanging out with you. We're friends."

He cocked his head to the side at the response, and moved from the doorway to the foot of the bed. He lingered quietly for a bit, before looking at the sheets, then looking back at her. That seemed to be his style, not verbally asking permission for anything but paying attention to non-verbal cues and going for it if it looked okay. He must have picked up that she was okay with it, because a few seconds later he sat.

"No, I mean why stay here? I had a hotel paid for already. And we could've just hung out and gone to breakfast and dinner, I didn't need to stay the night at your place to do that."

She started fidgeting, staring at her fingers laced one through the other in a little butterfly formation. As if that would help with thinking up a response. "Well, I don't know. I offered when I first got the place, you know, kind of thinking it would never happen, I might never get the opportunity to meet you in real life. And then, seeing you there, at my job...it was an impulse."

"I see" he moved closer, slowly "so there was no other reason?"

There was. But she wanted him to say it. So she deflected. "Why did you agree to stay here; packing up all your stuff and leaving your hotel? Surely this isn't convenient for you."

He picked up on what she was doing; a little smirk started forming in the corner of his mouth as he started looking down at his own hands, but not in the nervous way that Emily was. The look was more strategic, like the kind you see on the faces of the old men in the park playing community chess. Finally he looked up, right into her eyes, then past them to the stereo on top of her bed frame.

"So is your music collection as impressive as your movie collection?"

She smiled at that; her music collection was leaps and bounds ahead of movies, but she'd play it humble "I think so. There's a lot of variety, you know, different music for different moods."

"I see. Mind if I browse your collection?"

"Go for it."

Instead of getting up and walking around, he just moved further up the bed until he was sitting next to her, with his body completely turned to the player, looking at the soft glow from the screen. After examining the device for a minute, he turned it on. The iPod was already plugged into it, after seeing the iPod screen come to life when he turned on the player, he picked it up and started scrolling through the music.

"Wow, you weren't kidding" he looked further on the shelf "there's a ton on here. And I see four other iPods up here too."

"Oh, yeah. Well, they are all for different things. The one you're scrolling through is my easy listening stuff, mostly jazz, alternative, country, and some Brazilian stuff-mostly Bebel Gilberto. The blue one is workout music-lots of dance remixes; the silver one is sort of the same, more pop or heavy metal. That green one is for when my brother comes over, mostly Pink Floyd, Death Cab for a Cutie, Sublime, 90's alternative stuff. And that red one" she pointed right over his shoulder "is work stuff. Anything I find that I think I can make a good dance to."

When she said that, his eyes shifted from the screen to hers. As she expected them to, guys are pretty predictable, and really that's why she said it. To tantalize, to tease. Putting it out there in that was, she knew he would wonder what was on it.

But, instead of pulling it over to see what hot and steamy stuff was saved on there, he gave a soft smile and went back to scrolling through the easy listening selection. Emily felt a loss for what to say or do next; this was unexpected.

After scrolling in silence for a bit longer, he said; "So which one is your favorite?" 'Which one on the boring iPod?' she thought. This wasn't going as planned, she put the bait there to ask what was on the exciting one. It was clearly time to switch tactics and make some of that cool veneer of his crack.

Adjusting slightly in bed so a bit so her legs would show, and instantly regretting not wearing something sexier, she replied "Oh, it depends on the mood. I like variety." Then sitting up and leaning across him slowly, picked up the red iPod; "For example, now. Right now, I know what I'm in the mood to hear." With that she touched his hand, wordlessly asking for the plug, and plugged it in. It was set it to "shuffle", knowing that whatever came on would be something workable.

"Nothing's Gonna Hurt Your You Baby" by Cigarettes After Sex came on. Perfect, even though it had the melody of a sort of morbid lullaby. It felt perfect for the moment. She closed her eyes, hearing the music, and went into auto-pilot. She knew how to move without even thinking, after so many years it was instinctive. It started by closing her eyes, getting into the song-it helped to get into the music first, feel the beat. Then she began moving slowly, touching herself. She opened her eyes, slowly, the trick was to keep your eyes half closed and your chin down. Paul's eyes were fixed on hers; she could feel them. Perfect. She incorporated her shoulders, chest, then finally hips...her eyes partly closed and thinking out a routine. Wordlessly she moved her body in the standard straddle and swag, a leg swiftly but slowly onto his lap, in a riding formation. Her eyes now closed completely, and her mind retreated to the sexy routine developed for the song, waiting for the half-beat when the chorus would change. Then...

"Stop doing that, Emily."

She stopped moving; confused. "Doing what?"

Paul sat up, gripping her hip in denial. "Treat or think of me as one of your 'clients'. Of course you're great at it, you've been doing it a long time. I already liked what I saw. But I don't want you to 'perform' right now; I want you to be real with me. I want Emily, not 'Starr'."

Immediately the first feeling, embarrassment, was strong. She leaned back and pushed off of the headboard to sit back on her side. Thinking back, she thought maybe she was misreading, 'I mean he didn't actually come on to me, all he did was sit down, I'm the one that read further into it' she thought. Her face felt warm and her stomach flipped,' I must look like a cheap stripper' she thought. This felt awful, she felt foolish and started fidgeting with her fingers again, making the same butterfly motions as before. Only this time she wasn't looking for answers in them, she was imagining them flying her away.

Suddenly she felt Paul's hands on hers, holding them still. "Listen to me" he said, "you don't need to do all of this. I like you. And we're going to have a good time together. But I want you, your mind, here. I don't want you just going through the motions."

It was the first time she'd ever heard that from a man, or someone had called her on it. She stared at their hands, for once not knowing what to do next. Emily, pretending to be Starr, was always in control; she knew how to work a man but this one...he wouldn't go for any of it. And what's worse is she really wanted him to be impressed, and her usual tricks and going into her dancing alter-ego were almost a turn off to him, because they were usual, perfunctory. He was a different kind of man than she'd known.

The silence was suddenly broken, with Paul saying simply "Come here." Looking up, his eyes were low and intense. Without saying more he pulled the hand he was holding towards him, his stare never changing. He pulled her almost all the way onto his lap, stopping when she was huddled next to his body, her left leg touching his right, her right up but not over. He moved in and kissed her deeply, probing her mouth, his hands running across her body with his left hand resting on the left leg. The kissing grew more intense, but he was still patient, gripping her right leg tightly but allowing her to decide to pull herself completely over.

Swinging her leg over the top of his body, Paul groaned and kissed harder, one hand gripping her neck, the other the other her waist, deepening the kiss. She started to move, this time on pure animal instinct, nothing learned or mechanical about it. The movement spurred him, instead of stopping he grunted and gripped the back of her head and started trailing his fingers from her waist to the top of her panties. She began writhing and moaning, her whole body coming alive with excitement. Paul started to smile, pleased with the sincere response. He groaned into her mouth, biting her lower lip, his hands running freely over Emily's body. She was so excited, so wet, it felt like a heartbeat inside her pussy.

His grip changed, his hand moving from her neck and panties to her waist again. In one swift motion, he took the dominance she had away-he was on top, grinding. "Wrap your legs around me, Emily", he said. As she did it, he gripped her cheeks and pulled her closer; she could feel his hardness pressing against his shorts.

"Mmmm" she moaned into his mouth, feeling his hands working their way to the bottom of the shirt, moving it up inch by inch. His hands grazed her pussy as they lifted the oversized shirt, her nipples hardening at the gentle touch. He stopped moving his hands, looked at her, and said, "Take it off for me. Don't make it a production, show me you want me to see you."

He moved again so she was sitting on his lap instead of underneath, her legs still wrapped around his waist. She took the shirt off slowly, but naturally, and tossed it to the side. There was something about being this vulnerable, she didn't want to feel this way alone. She watched him look at her body, at the tiny pink nipples that had had teased so many before, and then back into her eyes. Gripping her back firmly, he pushed a nipple into his mouth, sucking, flicking the tips with his tongue in a delightful circular motion-within seconds she was writhing with delight. Emily gripped his shirt, pulling it up over his head, his chest. It wasn't artfully done, in truth she could be much smoother than that, but it was done in the heat of the moment that made it all the better.