Outside The Box by Robin Roseau

Author:Robin Roseau
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

New Year’s Eve

Jenna asked me what I wanted to do for New Year’s Eve. I told her I had nothing special in mind, but I hoped we’d spend it together.

“Mark says he wants to go to a party a friend is throwing. He was hinting about Gina. But I want us to be alone. Do you think Kate and Paul would like an overnight guest?”

“We can ask.”

Kate and Paul were absolutely agreeable, so Jenna then said, “I want to plan everything. You should dress to the nines.”

“What time?” I asked. “I have clients.”

“On New Year’s Eve?”

“It’s their day off.”

“Right. What time would you get home?”

“I can wrap up by four, but then I need to come home and get ready.”

“I tell you what. I’ll come to your place and be there when you get home. You can head up and shower, and I’ll wait.”

“I could come over-“

“No,” she said. “This is what we’re doing.”

“All right,” I said.

* * * *

I was, as typical, late, and it was closer to five by the time I pulled into my garage. Jenna’s car was parked inside, but there was a sign on the door leading into the house.

“Use the front door. Go straight upstairs, and text me when you’re ready.”

And so I exited the garage and walked around to my own front door, which I rarely used. It was unlocked, so I took my outer clothes off, leaving them in the closet there, and called out, “Jenna?”

“Follow directions, Alex,” she called back.

“But-“

“Follow directions.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. I hoped she took it teasingly.

I showered and primped. It took time. I thought Jenna would come upstairs to check on me, but she left me alone.

When I was done, I looked good, as good as I ever did at this age. I was creeping up on 48, and I wasn’t entirely sure what a 34-year-old saw in me. But I wondered if that summed up why we hadn’t moved past cuddling and make-out sessions.

But there wasn’t anyone else on the horizon, and I liked Jenna. I enjoyed spending time with her. I could be patient, at least a while longer. Something was going on, and I hoped she’d tell me eventually.

The cuddling was pretty good, after all, and the make-out sessions weren’t bad, either. Jenna seemed to like them even more than I did, but it was when I’d try to move on for more that she’d stop us. Or, sometimes, she’d be the one with frisky hands, and then she’d withdraw.

Did I gross her out? Was she saving herself for marriage, so to speak? Was she actually not gay, and the idea of lesbian sex turned her off?

I didn’t know.

* * * *

“I’m ready,” I texted.

The reply came back after about a minute. “There’s a black scarf in your night table drawer. I want it over your eyes. I’ll give you a minute, but you better be wearing it when I arrive.”

“Kinky,” I sent back.

I moved around the bed, opened the drawer, and found the scarf.

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