Reluctant Consent Read Free Page B

three times.
    “We
were cut off, Andrew.   I’ve a
question to ask.”
    “We
weren’t cut off, Denise.   I hung
up.   Your first words need to be an
apology or I hang up again and I don’t answer when you call back.”
    He
imagined Denise having a near aneurism of fury.   “I’m sorry about your parents, Denise.   They were lovely people.   You received the flowers?”
    “Yes.   Thanks.”   Again silence.
    “Denise.”
      She snapped the words.   “I’m sorry.”
    “You’re
sorry for-? Speaking disrespectfully, maybe? Rudely?”
    “Oh
my god.”   She sighed.
    Andrew
waited.   He was a patient man.  
    “I’m
sorry if I offended you.”
    “Denise.   An apology should address the speaker’s
actions, or words. If? If you offend?   How can ‘dick’ fail to offend,
Denise?   Surely you didn’t mean it
as a sign of respect?”   His voice
remained calm.
    Denise
sighed.
    “I’m
sorry I spoke in a manner which offended you.”
    “You’re
still managing to suggest I’m at fault.” He sounded like a pompous dick -- to
use her word -- but he held his ground. If the future he dreamed of was to
happen with this woman he would have to remain calm, stoic, unmoving.Mind you a little levity might make the medicine
go down.
      “But you’re getting closer, sugar.   Give it another shot.”  
    He
heard her blow air out her nose.
    “I
am very, very, very sorry I was rude.”   Her voice was laden with sarcasm but it showed compliance even if she
wasn’t ready to give up on the pride yet.
    “Forgiven.   What’s up? How can I help?”
    “Are
you married?”
    “What?
No!”
    “Engaged?
Close to engaged?”
    “Not
even dating, Denise.” He threw her a bone.   “You broke my heart, lady.”
    She
blew out another breath.   “Can you
meet me for coffee this afternoon, please?   It’s important.”
    She
sounded sad, and reluctant, but not bitchy with ego, and his heart went out to
her.
    “Name
the time and the place, sweetheart.   I’ll free my schedule.”
    ***
    Denise
pulled air into her lungs with a desperate gulp and pushed her way into
Starbucks. Andrew, handsome as ever, sat at a table which actually afforded some privacy. She saw a steaming mug and a scone waiting for
her and her heart ached.   She’d
adored Andrew and he had, always, taken care of her.   Too bad he had this weird predilection for kinky stuff.
    She
forced herself to smile and pretended her skin wasn’t crawling with
embarrassment.   Weaving through the
maze of tables she admitted she had a fondness for kinky stuff herself, and if
she were ruthlessly, viciously, dying day honest, she thought she could go for
kinky spanko stuff in the context of sex-but not the other weirdo, I’m the
dominant man stuff.
    Her
toe caught in a maze of computer cable and she pitched forward. Flushing deeply,
she caught herself at the same moment as Andrew’s hands grasped her upper arms
and stopped her fall. He manfully hauled her to his chest and she felt every
bone in her stupid body melt.
    She
loved his chest. Andrew had the best chest.   Broad, muscular, with the requisite happy trail leading down
to his pubis --but otherwise his chest was hairless and she loved it that
way.   When she put her face against
his chest she loved the heat that radiated straight to her.
    She
fought to free her foot.
    “Jeez.
Walk often?”
      She looked down, happy to be distracted
from her body’s reaction.   The
speaker had at least fifteen items jabbed into parts of her face and worse, she
was tiny in the annoying way so many young women were these days. .   Denise opened her mouth and then closed
it again.   In the past Andrew liked
to mention that life was not a reality TV show and real people didn’t act as if
it was.   So she’d keep her mouth
shut just in case he was ok with kinky stuff in public and she was liable to
find herself embarrassed.   Besides,
maybe he was right?
    Andrew
propelled her firmly towards a chair,