DALLAS LET HERSELF INTO HER apartment and sighed with relief when she realized Wendy wasn’t home. They got along great. Rarely disagreed. But tonight had been horrendously draining, and all Dallas wanted to do was stretch out with a glass of wine. And talk to Eric.
No. Bad idea. She’d be likely to spill too much of her frustration with work. Share her disappointment. Let him get too close. That would be totally foolish. Disastrous. A great way to ruin the fantasy.
She kicked off her shoes and poured herself half a glass of wine, when she’d really like to down half the bottle. She stared at the jagged nail on her index finger and gritted her teeth. None of her fingernails were long but she kept them at a decent enough length for an occasional French manicure. Today she’d spent four hours sanding walls. Ever so carefully, with gloves on. Then five minutes before she’d knocked off, there went the nail.
Normally she wouldn’t care, but tomorrow evening was the reception with Eric. She looked at the phone. Maybe she should call to confirm. If plans had changed, he couldn’t call her. She still hadn’t given him her number.
She took a sip of wine, telling herself that was an excuse. She could wait until tomorrow to talk to him. Anyway, he was probably working. Drumming her fingers on the counter, she glanced from the phone to the clock and then back to the phone. Two minutes. That’s it. Just to confirm tomorrow evening, she told herself and grabbed the receiver.
With her purse slung over her shoulder and carrying the glass of wine in one hand, the phone in the other, she headed for her room. She gave herself a few more minutes to change her mind about calling while she kicked off her shoes and turned down her lemon-yellow comforter.
Her room was too tiny to hold anything more than a twin bed, a nightstand and a small dresser, so she plumped her pillow and positioned it against the wall and then made herself comfortable, sitting cross-legged with her back against the pillow.
After another sip of wine, she took a deep breath and dialed his number. She knew it by heart after a glance. It was an easy one to remember.
She let the phone ring three times and was about to hang up when he answered. His voice sounded hoarse, husky, as if he’d been sleeping, but it was only eight-thirty.
“Hey, Eric.”
“Dallas?”
“Yeah, did I wake you?”
“No, of course not. I’m glad you called.”
“Yeah?” She smiled, her misgivings dissolving.
“I wish you hadn’t disappeared last night.”
“I didn’t exactly disappear. I just didn’t want to wake you. Besides, I left a note.”
“You should’ve woken me.”
She smiled at the drop in his voice. “Why?”
“I had something for you.”
An image of him standing naked in front of her last night instantly flashed in her mind. “I can’t imagine what that could have been.”
“Come over now and I’ll show you.”
Laughing, she put her glass on the nightstand and then slid into a horizontal position. “I bet.”
“Where are you?”
“At home.”
“What are you wearing?”
“A big, bulky white chenille robe and pink curlers in my hair.”
“Ah, my older-woman fantasy come to life.”
Dallas smiled and rolled over to her side. “I just got home from my meeting.”
“How did it go?”
“Pretty horrible.”
“Sorry to hear that. Want to tell me about it?”
She bit her lip, annoyed that she’d allowed the conversation to go in that direction. “No, I want to talk about something more pleasant.”
“Okay,” he said slowly, “let’s get back to what you’re really wearing.”
“You mean besides the G-string?”
After a long moment of silence he said, “You’re kid ding, right?”
“It’s black. Not that you can see much of it.”
After another pause he asked, “What did you say your address was?”
She laughed. “Nice try.”
“Yeah,” he said, sounding a little put off. “Or you could come here.”
“It’s late.”
“It’s only eight-forty.”
“I have to get up early.”
“So do I.”
“We wouldn’t get any sleep.”
He laughed. “Like I’m going to get any now.”
“Good point.”
“Tell you what, where are you?”
“At home, really.”
“No, I mean right now.”
“In my room, lying on my bed.”
“Perfect.”
She sucked in a breath, suddenly aware of where this was going. “Why?”
“Take off your clothes.”
Heat spiraled through her. “And?”
“Take them off and then I’ll give you further instructions.”
She hesitated, momentarily self-conscious, but excitement at the prospect of what could come moved her to do as he asked, and she unbuttoned her jeans.
“Dallas?”
“Yes?”
“Tell me what you’re doing.”
“Taking my clothes off as you asked.”
“Be specific.”
She laughed, a little self-conscious again.
“Tell me,” he urged, his voice growing hoarse.
“My jeans,” she whispered, her hands starting to tremble. “I’m pulling down the zipper.”
“Go on.”
“I’m pushing the jeans down past my hips.” She cradled the phone between her chin and shoulder as she struggled to free herself of the stubborn denim.
“Are they off yet?”
“Almost.” The phone slipped as she shoved the jeans to her ankles. She kicked them off and repositioned the receiver. “Okay.”
“Are you wearing panties?”
“Of course.” She laughed. It came out shaky.
“Describe them.”
“They’re black.”
“Silk?”
“Yes,” she lied. Plain cotton wasn’t sexy and she was really getting into the game.
“A thong?”
“Yes.”
He moaned, the sound low and raspy and shooting straight down her spine. “Take them off.”
“They’re already off.”
He breathed deeply into the phone. “Now your blouse.”
“I’ll have to put the phone down.”
“Leave it where I can hear you.”
She sat up and took a quick sip of wine. “You, too. Take off your clothes.”
His laugh was more a low, sexy growl. “Baby, I’m way ahead of you.”
“You’re naked?”
“Almost. Down to boxers.”
She smiled as she unbuttoned her blouse. “What color?”
“Don’t ruin the mood.”
“Come on. Play fair.”
He hesitated. “Black with red chili peppers.”
She laughed. “Really?”
“They were a gag gift from a friend.”
“Wear them often?”
“Only when I haven’t done laundry for two weeks.” He sighed. “Can we get back to something more interesting?”
“Such as?”
“Your bra. Take it off.”
“You’ve assumed I’m wearing one.”
Silence, and then he said, “You’re not?”
She smiled, picturing the way his eyes darkened and his nostrils flared slightly when he was aroused but trying to hold back. Funny how he seemed so clear in her mind, as if they’d shared more than one night together. “It’s black, silk and lace, and I’m about to unclasp it.”
“Do it.”
“Done.” She slipped one strap off her shoulder and then the other, and the bra fell away.
“You’re naked?”
“Oh, yeah.” She lay back down and stretched out, resting her palm on her tummy. “You?”
“Uh-huh,” Eric murmured. “God, I close my eyes and I can see you. Your nipples. They’re pink. Not rose or flesh-colored but really pink.”
Suddenly so were her cheeks. She was glad he couldn’t see them. Curious, she glanced down at her self. Her nipples were rather pink.
“See what I mean?” he asked as if he could see through the phone. “They’re so soft, too. Like satin. Touch them.”
Dallas sucked in a breath.
“Come on. Touch them and tell me what you feel.”
She moistened her lips. Slowly drew the tips of two fingers around the areola and then pinched the hardened nipple between her thumb and forefinger, closing her eyes, imagining Eric’s hand on her body. She bit her lower lip.
“Dallas?” Throaty and hoarse, his voice came across the phone line in a whisper. “Tell me.”
She couldn’t speak at first. The intimacy of what they were doing amazed her. How could she feel so safe with Eric? The idea was absurd, but there it was. “What I’m feeling has nothing to do with my fingertips.”
He started to laugh, too, and then gasped and moaned in her ear. A sensual moan that told her he was also pleasing himself.
The idea excited her further and she slipped her other hand between her thighs. “Tell me what you’re doing.” She closed her eyes, picturing him in her mind’s eye.
“Stroking my cock,” he said without hesitation. “Pretending it’s you lying here touching me.”
She shuddered. If he was trying to tempt her into going over to his place, he was doing a damn good job. “Are you hard yet?”