Rachel and Stephen Ch. 07

It's a series. You'll be totally lost if you don't read at least a few of the preceding chapters. Furthermore, this chapter is ENTIRELY PLOT BUILDING. THERE IS NO SEX. Please, please do not rate badly because there is no sex. You have been warned.

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I sat up, letting the scratchy hotel blanket fall from my head, and stared blankly at the wall. I barely saw the textured white surface as I thought about what was going on in my life right now. My legs still shook from my orgasm, and I was naked there. And Stephen knew what had just happened.

It seemed to me that the situation had spiraled far, far out of control. Maybe it had already been out of hand that night on my balcony. I didn't know. All I knew was that I had been getting myself off in close proximity to my (male) best friend on an alarmingly regular basis, and I was liking it. Not just the masturbation -- which was nice -- but the whole Stephen maybe knowing sexual tension thing. And we'd had sex. I pictured his body, felt his lips against my neck as he thrust into me, and I felt like crying.

I was so one hundred percent attracted to him. I had no idea how I'd made it this long thinking I wasn't. Hell, he was the thing I was thinking about to get myself off nine times out of ten!

Slowly, I pulled myself off the bed and over to my suitcase. Without seeing what I was doing, I grabbed some jeans and a random shirt and slipped them on. My walking shoes went back on my feet, and I headed towards the door. I was going to tell him -- what, I wasn't exactly sure -- but this was too far, this couldn't go on like this, this whole fiasco was over.

When I opened the door to my room, Stephen was there directly in front of me. For a moment, staring at his five o'clock shadow and warm eyes, I forgot what I was going to say.

"I..."

"Yes?" he asked, and he leaned up close to me and reached behind my back to close the door.

I froze with my mouth still open. His body was inches away from me with the movement, and I could feel his warmth. Feeling like I was falling, I leaned back against the door, anything to get away from this incredible tension in me, but he stayed as close as before.

Two inches separated our lips. I could feel his breath brushing across my chin. I knew if I leaned now I could kiss him -- or he could kiss me. Our eyes were locked, and surely he would move any minute now to take my lips.

His tongue peeked out for a moment as he moistened said lips, and a gust of air escaped me. "Rach?" he said lowly, "you were gonna say something?"

"I -- I..." I closed my eyes. I couldn't even talk with him this close. I rushed it all out on one breath. "I just think that this was a bad idea and I know it was good intentioned because you want me to be happy and meet guys but I think we took things too far so this all needs to be over now and I can meet guys like any normal girl in Vegas."

I felt him move away from me abruptly, before I even had my eyes opened. When I looked, he was standing a few feet away, and I thought I saw something like pain cross his face, but then he chuckled and I knew I was wrong. "Rach, it IS over. Obviously. Now just let me buy you an outfit and dinner -- consider it payment for emotional distress -- and we'll forget all about this."

Something sharp stabbed inside me and I felt tears well up for a moment.

No. No, no, no. Oh God. This wasn't just attraction. This was feelings. This sinking feeling of disappointment about the distance between us had nothing to do with my libido. I had FEELINGS for STEPHEN. I didn't want to forget about any of this. If I hadn't been leaning against a wall already, I might have fallen, but instead I just stood there frozen, focusing on my shaky breath.

I couldn't meet his eyes, but he didn't seem to notice. "Well..." I said, low and uncertain.

"Rach, you know I have plenty of money."

It was true. I also knew that I would at least get an hour or two of just us time if I agreed, so I did.

We walked down to the street and hailed a cab, and the whole time my mind was whirling madly. I tried to recapture the confidence I'd had after my little masturbation session, with limited success. There was nothing to be done, no possibility of an 'us' -- that much was painfully obvious to me. If Stephen had wanted an 'us,' he would have just kissed me.

So the only solution here was to get over it as fast as possible -- and what better place or way? I was in Vegas, I was brimming (kind of) with new-found sexual empowerment, and I was about to get a new outfit. Any other girl would have been ecstatic, so I did my best.

When I stepped into the first store, the excitement started to become real. There were beautiful clothes EVERYWHERE. Stephen slapped my hand every time I tried to look at a price tag, so, giggling, I just started grabbing things to try on.

Once I was in the dressing room, my enthusiasm waned a little. The first thing I did was check all of the price tags -- I wasn't really going to let Stephen spend absurd amounts of money. Sadly, four of the dresses I had were well over 200 dollars, which I had decided on as a limit, so I sat those aside.

The first one I tried on was about to split a seam over my hips. No go. Feeling fat, I grabbed the second one in the pile -- a shimmery grey dress with cap sleeves and a v neck -- and shimmied into it. It was comfortable, and when I looked in the mirror my jaw dropped.

I looked like some kind of goddess. The tiny little sleeves capped off my shoulders perfectly before the neckline dove down to spill out cleavage. My waist looked absurdly tiny, and I was showing a lot of leg below the flowy little skirt. I spun, admiring my reflection, and then looked at the rest of dresses on the hanger. None of them were going to compare to this -- I was absolutely certain.

I re-dressed and slipped back out, carrying only the grey dress. Stephen looked up from his phone, leaned against the wall, and gave me a startled look. "Rachel, you're done already? You don't need to hurry -- I don't mind waiting."

"Thanks, but I think I found the one I want," I said shyly, still having trouble meeting his eyes.

"Are you sure?" He sounded doubtful. "You didn't even ask my opinion or anything."

I wasn't going to. This dress was for meeting a guy here tonight who would be interested in me -- somebody who wasn't carrying years and years of our friendship baggage. Also, a small secret part of me that I wasn't going to admit to wanted him to be surprised and wowed by my appearance tonight.

"I'm sure," I said. "If you're still up for buying me an outfit, then let's go."

He eyed me for a minute and shrugged. "Of course I'm still up for it, Rachel. I don't break my commitments. But come on, that's a dress, not an outfit. We need shoes, right? And probably jewelry."

I looked at him and saw the familiar grin and sparkling eyes that had been missing since we'd headed in to shop, and my heart filled with warmth. Maybe our friendship was going to be easier to save than I'd thought, as long as I could restrain myself.

Stephen chose the shoes himself after I held the dress up -- nude pumps. I knew he was right as soon as I saw them, and I wasn't much of a jewelry girl, so we were out of the store in less than an hour total.

By then I had relaxed for the most part, but every time he touched me, hand brushing my arm to get my attention, tap on my shoulder, whatever, I had to fight the urge to stiffen up.

I was relieved to return to the hotel, and I threw myself whole-heartedly into getting ready for my night out. I put on girl power music -- Pat Benatar, my secret retro addiction -- and focused on how sexy I was as I showered and shaved my legs. I applied more makeup than usual carefully, finishing the look with cat-eye liner. The last touch was to curl my hair and stick it up in a high ponytail. With the pushup bra Stephen had purchased on under the dress and feet slid into my new heels, I was ready to go.

I turned the music off, took one slow deep breath, and headed down the hallway to Stephen's room. I held confident posture and knocked two sharp knocks on the door. When he opened it, muscular frame covered in a blue dress shirt and slim fit slacks, my legs started to shake, but I just smiled at him.

"Hey."

He looked me up and down and I held my breath. Finally, he said "You look like you plan on getting laid tonight."

His face was expressionless and I didn't know whether to be offended or flattered. "I do," I said shortly. "Let's go so I have a shot at making that happen."

His jaw tightened for a minute, but he just nodded and grabbed his keys.

We went to one of the hotel restaurants down on the bottom floor. It had great reviews and I wasn't disappointed when I walked in and saw neon lights, chandeliers, and glitz. Even the busty and gorgeous hostess couldn't dampen my spirits, and I was getting admiring looks from multiple men, so the night seemed to be off to a good start.

When she asked us where we wanted to sit, I answered, "Bar, please," but Stephen stopped her with an overly charming smile and a hand to her shoulder.

"Actually, we'll take a booth."

Irked, I narrowed my eyes at him. What kind of game was he up to now?

As soon as the waitress walked away, I hissed "Stephen, what are you doing? If I'm sitting at a booth with a guy, I'll have to wear a sign that said 'Single' to get any male attention!"

After a long look, Stephen just said "Trust me."

I threw my hands up in the air, but secretly I was thrilled to have more time with him. He was uncharacteristically quiet, though, and more and more I had an overwhelming urge to stare at him, so I was getting frustrated.

Finally, I got up to go to the bathroom -- and also to walk slowly by a really cute guy at the bar who kept looking at me. When I came back out and passed him again, he was holding two glasses of wine -- and held one out to me!

I glanced over at Stephen and noticed he was looking at me. Smugly, I accepted the wine and sat down on a stool next to mystery-cute-guy.

"Hey," he said, in a deep voice that won my full attention. "I'm Aiden."

I smiled sweetly at him. "Rachel. Thanks for the wine."

Two and a half glasses later, I was giggling adoringly at Aiden. He was funny, cute, and a bank manager -- and also Stephen had managed to get the hostess to take over my spot at the table on her break, and he needed to see that I was having fun too.

"So, do you have a plan for the night?" asked Aiden.

"Uh, not really. Just hoping to meet someone fun and enjoy myself," I answered, marveling at my daring.

He grinned. "Well, in that case..." He motioned the bartender over and continued, "How bout a shot of whiskey and then we hit the floor," gesturing towards the whirling lights of the adjacent casino.

"Done!" I said, and tossed back the amber-colored liquid the bartender had produced, savoring the burn in my throat.

When I stood up a few moments later, I barely kept my balance. Crap. I hadn't eaten anything, and I was feeling a wee bit over-intoxicated. Oh well, didn't matter. The positive thing was I hadn't thought about Stephen in like 45 minutes, and I was pretty sure I was getting lucky tonight.

Halfway into the casino section, my heel caught on the plush carpet and I stumbled. Aiden caught me with an arm around my waist, and, enjoying the firm male warmth of his arm against my back, I spun up against him and kissed him.

The first meeting of our lips was clumsy, but I steadied myself with an arm around his neck and things smoothed out. His stubble chafed against me in a pleasant way, and even though there wasn't any earth-moving spark between us, his warm lips felt really good and I opened my mouth to him.

His hands firmly grabbed my hips, guiding me tightly against growing arousal, and I groaned just a little. Yep. I was definitely getting lucky tonight. I circled my tongue around his lips, preparing to kiss him deeply, but a tapping on my shoulder interrupted me.

"Yes?" I said sharply, sucking in air. I turned to see Stephen glowering at me.

"Can we talk for a minute?"

"Uh..." I turned back to Aiden, mouthing 'So sorry...' "You don't mind if I talk to my friend for a minute, do you? I can meet you at the tables in five." His brow creased, but I smiled at him reassuringly, and he finally left.

Stephen wrapped a hand around my upper arm as soon as I turned back to him. "Rachel, what the hell are you doing? Maybe we should get you back to your room already."

I jerked out of his grasp, almost falling over in the process. "What the hell are YOU doing?? Don't be a cockblock, kay?"

He crossed his arms in irritation. "You need to calm down. You haven't eaten, you're half wasted already, and you found the nearest bar lech to glom onto. Don't you see why I'm concerned?"

"What do you mean?! It's Vegas! I can have fun if I want! And Aiden is a bank manager. He's nice! And cute. And INTERESTED! And stop trying to get me to leave -- I'm not going back to my hotel room alone tonight. I though you WANTED me to get laid."

He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair in a familiar sign of frustration. "Rach, you are parading around dressed like easy pickings, and you could do way, way better! Just let me keep an eye out for you! Jeeze, Rach, there are so many other things to life than easy sex!"

What? I was confused and infuriated. "What is even wrong with you? I am getting so many goddamn mixed messages, Stephen! You don't want me but nobody else can have me either? Is that it? Because I am so fucking done! I can't deal with your confusing hypocritical crap right now!"

My voice had been climbing louder and louder, and as I finished I realized people around us were staring. I felt unpleasantly drunk and tacky, and I staggered a little as I stepped back from Stephen. He just stood there frozen, staring at me with a strange look of hurt and frustration.

Quietly, I finished, "Look, I'm going to go back to my room. Maybe I've had a little too much already. And tomorrow I'm getting on a plane and I'm going home. Sorry."

I stumbled off to the elevator, back into my room, and then I kicked off the stupid shoes, stripped of the dress, and booked a flight out in the morning. Then I collapsed into bed and cried bitterly. I heard a knock on the door a few minutes later, but I just ignored it and stayed lost in my fog of self-pity.

The next morning, I didn't feel any better. I had a minor headache, thanks to the wine and the crying, and if anything I felt more humiliated and hurt than I had the night before. Quietly, I slunk out of my hotel room, checked out, and headed home.