Friendly Persuasion

2

ROSS HAD ANOTHER black and tan after Kara left, but it didn’t wash away the strawberry kiss that had coated his mouth and lips with sweet promise. He tasted it all the way back to his apartment.

She’d actually quivered when he’d kissed her. Quivered. What responsiveness. Those crisp designer suits were wrapped around one sensuous woman.

He’d had thoughts about Kara when she’d first marched her serious little butt in the door at S&S, but she’d been so intent and dogged—and repressed—that he didn’t pursue her. Before long he’d gotten to know her and found her warm and open and funny and smart and they’d become friends. And friendship was a way bigger deal than sex.

He’d seen she was the type who put her heart on the line. And he’d never allow himself to hurt her. He couldn’t put pain in those eager, vulnerable eyes.

But Tina thought he could teach Kara how to separate lust from love…. Interesting. Could he? When he thought about that strawberry kiss, it seemed worth a try. On a purely physical level. Simple sex might be just what Kara needed. Could she keep it simple, though? Seemed unlikely. She was an intense woman. He, on the other hand, had simple sex down to a science.

Ever since college. Ever since Beth. That was when he’d learned it wasn’t a good idea to get attached. People changed. Or, more importantly, he changed. Beth had wanted someone stable and dependable. He’d tried to be that—taking the job her dad had lined up for him at a big graphics studio. But the work had been mere production—the replication of someone else’s creativity. He hated the daily routine, the repetitiveness, the tedium. He’d felt trapped. Then he’d started to get bored with Beth. He’d fought it, tried to hide it, but eventually all he saw was her anxious face, pale as pearlescent ink. What’s wrong, Ross? Is it me? What am I doing wrong?

It’s not you, it’s me. It’s me, really. A tired excuse, but, in his case, so true. He was a restless guy. He’d been young at the time and didn’t know himself well. Now he knew to stay away from women whose hearts he could break. Serious women looking for The One. Women like Kara.

His tongue found more strawberry at the roof of his mouth. Mmm. Some sack time with Kara would be amazing. She sounded like she was really interested in exploring sex with someone. Why couldn’t that someone be him? He knew her and cared about her. Some other guy might take advantage of her good nature. Could he make it safe for her? Show her how to keep sex in perspective? That was the only way it would work…if she could handle it.

He loped up the steps to his apartment, trying to remember whether or not he should avoid Lionel and Lucy, his landlords, who lived just below him. It wasn’t that he didn’t set aside the rent money, but he sometimes forgot when exactly it was due or where he’d hidden it so he wouldn’t spend it.

He’d paid, he remembered. Early, too, and thrown in a little extra for next month, since Lionel had been worrying about affording his daughter’s gymnastics day camp. Rental income tanked in the summer. Confident he was in his landlord’s good graces, Ross paused to wave through the window at Lucy.

He unlocked his door and took in the chaos with a grin. He could pick up a little, but he was more interested in working on that guitar riff he’d learned from a guy at a blues bar the night before.

Even as he tuned up, he found he was still thinking about Kara and that kiss. She’d pretended it had been nothing more than a peck, but there was fire there. Possibly total combustion.

She’d seemed certain she couldn’t fall in love with him. That was a good sign. And probably true. They were so different. She drove him nuts at work with her checklists and protocols. Of course, that was her job. Account execs stayed on top of the details, herded everyone and schmoozed the clients. The artist’s job was to be creative. At work, Kara and he were in perfect sync, but in a relationship there would be war.

He started with an easy chord progression. She’d looked so down about Scott. Why she picked those lame-asses he’d never know. He’d like to help her if he could—give her the confidence she needed to not lock on to the next corporate clone who caught on to how great she was.

She was always helping him, covering for him when he overslept, giving him pep talks when his mind seemed to have squeezed out its last creative juice. He liked to look after her, too—calm her down when she got herself wound too tight.

He moved into the licks the guitarist had shown him over one too many brewskis. If they set up some ground rules maybe… Ground rules? Lord, he sounded like Kara.

But she was going to do this, one way or the other. He recognized that determined Kara look. He couldn’t stand watching her get hurt by another jerk. And he knew what to watch out for with her…and if they had no expectations beyond the sex…they could have a damn fine time together.

The more he thought about it, the better it sounded. With ground rules in place, and good intentions all around, what was the worst that could happen?

“I CAN’T DO IT,” Kara said to Tina the minute Tina came into the office kitchen for coffee Wednesday morning. Kara had already been at work for an hour. She sipped her decaf Lemon Alert tea, but she was so preoccupied it seemed tasteless.

“Hold that thought,” Tina said, raising a hand to stop Kara’s words. Tina claimed she couldn’t think until she’d downed some caffeine and she didn’t see in color until ten o’clock.

Kara waited while Tina took two fast swallows. “Better,” she announced. “Now, what is it you can’t do?”

Kara made sure no one was heading into the kitchen, then she whispered, “Have sex with Ross.” In fact, she dreaded their noon spades game. The idea of gazing at him over her usually wretched hand made her break out in a sweat.

“Why not?” Tina asked.

“It’s complicated.” She’d lain awake half the night contemplating the idea, but every time she got around to reliving that kiss she freaked out. “Something happened…we kissed….”

“No!” Tina’s grin filled her face. “Dish, girl. How was it?”

“Intense.”

“Perfect! Hot sex, good times, no hassles. Just what you need.”

“No. It feels risky.”

“Risky? You couldn’t fall in love with Ross. Talk about the odd couple. You two would make Oscar and Felix look like the Bobbsey Twins…no, wait, were the Bobbsey Twins both girls? You know what I mean. It’s too early for similes.” She opened the refrigerator and began looking around, searching out leftover pastries from a client meeting, no doubt.

“I’m worried about our friendship,” Kara said. “We could end up acting strange around each other.”

Tina pulled out a bear claw and took a bite. “Mmm, this one isn’t even stale.”

“And what if I did fall for him, as insane as that is? It just feels too wrong.”

“I’d say it feels too right. You’re such a puritan about pleasure. Why can’t you just relax and have a good time?”

Why couldn’t she?

“Ross would never let you get serious.”

“True.”

“Anyway, if you’re ready for lesson number two in how to have sex for sex’s sake, I’m taking another crack at Tom tonight. I figure he’s got some rule against dating customers, so I’m doing a damsel-in-car-trouble after hours. Watch and learn.”

“Past my bedtime. You can give me the play-by-play tomorrow.” Kara paused, remembering what Tom had said about Tina being lonely. “Are you sure Tom’s the kind of guy you want? He seems like a pretty serious guy.”

“Not when I get through with him,” she said, but she didn’t sound as certain as usual. Maybe Tina was lonely, like Tom said. Her manhunter attitude did seem forced at times. Kara had assumed she’d just been seeing Tina through her own filters, but if even Tom had noticed…

“Just be careful, Tina. I don’t want you to get…” She started to say hurt, but Tina would hate that, so she said, “too involved with a guy who might get hooked on you.”

“I’ll be fine. So will he, believe me,” she said with her characteristic confidence.

Two hours later, Kara returned to the kitchen for her usual midmorning snack—fat-free yogurt, a hard-boiled egg and five carrot sticks—the only variation being the addition of celery, when she felt festive. She opened the refrigerator and bent to get her bag from its place, thinking that her life was as predictable as her snacks, when something utterly new happened—a warm hand stroked her butt.

She yelped, bumped her head on the bottom of the ice compartment, then turned to see Ross standing too close, wearing that appraising look she’d seen him give potential female conquests. A shiver ran through her, but she masked it by rubbing the bump on her head. “Was I in your way?”

“I thought you had a little something on your skirt—dust, maybe,” he said, his wicked expression contradicting his innocent words. He reached past her to close the refrigerator behind her. “I’ve been thinking about your proposal,” he said, standing too close.

“Oh, that.” She felt herself go red. In the stark light of the office kitchen, the idea seemed ridiculous. “I think that second Fuzzy Navel gave me fuzzy brain.” She tried to laugh.

“Tina had the Fuzzy Navel. You had a prickly-pear margarita.”

“Oh, right. See what I mean?”

“I think I can help you, Kara.”

“You already have. You kept my drink straight. Not to mention my skirt dusted. I’ll be just fine.” In fact, she’d already made a plan. She was going to stop by the naughty lingerie store Tina had recommended for something electronic, then rent a sexy video—a tasteful one. She figured the combination of video and vibrator might be complex enough that she could pretend there was someone else arousing her besides her electricity-aided self. That should cancel her sex-equals-marriage equation, or at least reduce the itch for a while. Hopefully, that would be enough.

If it wasn’t, she’d think about finding someone to experiment with. Someone not Ross.

“You’re chickening out?” Ross said, his eyes teasing. “The kiss was too much for you?”

“Not at all. We’re friends, remember? We don’t want to risk that.”

“Yeah, but maybe being friends makes it better. I know what you’re trying to accomplish, so I can help you better than some strange guy would. We could be careful. We could, say, set some ground rules.”

“Ground rules?” Her ears perked at that. He’d obviously spent some time thinking about this.

“I knew you’d like the ground rules part.” He grinned. “So come to my apartment tonight and we’ll have some beer and figure out how to make this safe.”

“I don’t think so,” she said. She was chicken. She wasn’t sure she could handle this, and losing Ross’s friendship would be terrible. Not to mention the tension at work. If the gadgets and videos didn’t work, she’d find someone else.

“You don’t know what you’re missing.”

Her stomach shimmied at the look in his eyes. He was probably right. It would be wonderful to put herself in Ross’s hands…so to speak. She liked him, and she knew he cared about her. There wouldn’t be any of that awkwardness of being strangers.

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” she said. She was definitely chicken.

AFTER WORK, Kara entered Naughty and Nice and marched purposefully to the devices shelves, head high. She was a sexually active woman who had every right to explore new sensations. She faltered a little, though, when the most tasteful vibrator she could find was in a lurid purple box that screamed self-pleasure toy.

To cover her real purpose, she snatched up a few items on her walk to the register—some party napkins with suggestive jokes, a feather boa, some flavored body paints and a package of what turned out to be edible underwear. She kept her head down and prayed the bored girl behind the counter wouldn’t shout out, Price check on the Heavy Duty G-Spot Pleasure Wand.

The clerk didn’t bat an eye, thank God, and Kara rushed out of the store with her purchases in a plain brown bag, feeling as if she’d dodged a bullet.

Next stop, the video store. Pausing in the self-help section she picked out an instructional video featuring a positive-thinking guru, then slipped behind the purple curtain with the Adults Only sign over it. Ignoring the sideways glances of the men browsing—no, lurking—at the racks, she scanned titles that made her blush to her roots, and finally grabbed a tape with a soft-focused photo and no evident body parts.

Making sure only the motivational tape showed, she clutched the tapes close to her chest, pushed through the purple curtain…and ran smack-dab into Ross. The shock made her drop her sex-shop sack, spilling her brightly colored purchases on the carpet.

She stood there frozen for a second and Ross bent to pick up, then hand the items to her one at a time, examining each one. “Looks like you have a busy evening ahead of you,” he said, giving her the vibrator.

“Never you mind,” she said, shoving it into her bag, blushing furiously.

“And what are you renting?” he asked, snatching the tapes from her fingers. He held them high, out of her reach. “Hmm, Firefighters in Flames and Getting What You Want NOW…with Tony Rockwell,” he said, reading the covers. “I can see the firefighters—all those muscles and that big pole—but I had no idea you had a thing for old guys with bad dye jobs,” he said, handing the tapes back.

“Oh, stop it,” she said. “I’m experimenting, okay?”

“I’m kind of hurt you’re going with paraphernalia when I’m offering my fleshly self.”

“I’m exploring…um…options.”

“Flaming firefighters? Please. You are chicken.”

“Am not.” She was so humiliated she just blurted, “Okay, smart guy. You’re on. Let’s go to your place and see about some rules.” What else could she do? He’d dared her and she had her pride. She’d find out what he had mind, at least.

The minute they got to his place, Ross started rushing through the apartment picking up stuff.

“Don’t fuss on my account,” she said. She’d been to his place numerous times and he’d never batted an eye when she had to push stuff off the couch just to make a place to sit. His frantic cleanup now charmed her.

His furniture consisted of funky items he’d scored at yard sales and nostalgia shops, along with things he bought off friends who needed money. He had a fish tank made from an old-fashioned clear gas pump in one corner and a Roy Rogers lamp-end-table ensemble next to an orange Naugahyde sofa.

Only the art was decent—fabulous, actually. Art photography, original oils and several sculptures. His record albums—he collected vinyls of blues artists and had a mint condition turntable—were in orderly racks. Ross had taste, just no concern.

Cords from three video game controllers were tangled in the middle of the floor and the couch cushions were propped against the cocktail table—backrests for gamers, no doubt. “Mind if I put these back?” she asked, picking up a cushion.

“Be my guest. I’ll get us a couple beers.”

She sat down on the recushioned couch and thought about what she might be doing—having sex with Ross. She shivered.

She did want to learn to separate sex from love, and she’d been attracted to Ross from the day they met. She’d always envied the women who knew him as a sexual partner. Then there was the thrill of knowing he wanted her enough to plan ways to convince her to do it.

But what about their friendship?

Maybe being friends would make it easier, like he said. It would save time, get past all those awkward getting-to-know-you moments….

Was she losing her mind, thinking of sex with Ross as an efficiency measure? Maybe the ground rules would convince her. Or scare her off.

The hand she used to take the beer from Ross shook so badly that he put the bottle on the table, sat beside her and rubbed her cold fingers between his warm ones. “Don’t be nervous, Kara.” He looked into her eyes. His were velvet green with brown lace. Hazel, except sexier. “We’ll take it slow. Nice and slow.”

A shiver crawled up her spine. “How about those ground rules?” she said, extracting her hands to go for the notepad she kept in her purse.

“Let’s just talk, okay?” he said, taking away the pad and pen. “We’re friends, remember? Friends talk to each other.”

“Right.” She took a deep breath and blew it out.

“You’re blotching. You always blotch when you’re nervous.” He studied her a moment longer. “I do know you,” he said on a sigh, and thrust the pad at her. “Go ahead and write. You’ll jitter if you can’t.”

Relieved, she labeled the list Sex with Ross—Ground Rules. “Okay. Number one.” Before Ross could suggest something, she said, “Friendship first.”

“Absolutely,” Ross agreed. “Nothing gets in the way of that.”

She wrote it down. “How can we be sure?” She frowned.

“That’s rule number two,” he said. “The minute either of us feels weird, we quit. No questions asked, no harm, no foul.”

“Maybe that will work.” She wrote it down, then bit her lip.

“Rule number three,” Ross continued. “Stay focused on the goal.”