Fic: "Friends With Benefits" (part 3 of 5) NC17
And now we come to part three, which fulfills the schmoop_bingo prompt "back rub." Hope you enjoy:
"Friends With Benefits"
by yahtzee63
Part Three
“I tried talking to Amanda about it,” Betty said as she scraped pink and crimson ribbons of nail polish from the doorjamb, where Amanda had “tested” each shade. “She accused me of trying to rub it in. Then she said men were evil. Then she cried on my desk for a while until Marc brought her a delivery pizza. She ate the whole thing. That seemed to stabilize her.”
“Poor Amanda.” Daniel’s voice echoed slightly off the tiles in her bathroom; he was in there trying to undo some of the damage Amanda and Marc had done during their brief, disastrous tenancy in Betty’s former apartment.
Correction, she thought: As of today, again my current apartment. I’m back where I ought to be.
With new enthusiasm, she kept at her work as Daniel continued, “I know this might not be what you want to hear, exactly, but I think Amanda was serious about Matt.”
The idea of being jealous about Matt Hartley already seemed like something Betty dimly remembered from a dream. “No, you’re right. I mean, if she hadn’t been, she wouldn’t have stormed out of this apartment - excuse me, this ‘den of taunting evil memories.’ I thought they were happy together. But Matt - he was always kind of looking for the next thing, you know? I guess he’s still wandering.”
“To Africa, this time.” Daniel stuck his head out of the bathroom door; a few tiny chips of plaster dotted his hair. “Is it wrong to wonder what would’ve happened if he’d asked Amanda to go with him to do charity work? Or to think that would’ve been hilarious?”
Betty couldn’t help grinning. “I hope not. Or we’re both headed straight to hell.” Someone knocked on the door just inches from her face, which made her jump, but then she said, “Speaking of delivery food, dinner’s here!”
“Let me get it.” He came out, wallet already in hand, but Betty shook her head.
“I promised you dinner as payment for services rendered. Sit. Or if you want, open that bottle of wine. It ought to be cold by now.” As he did what she asked, she paid for their delivery Chinese food - but all the while, she could see Daniel from the corner of her eye. That gray T-shirt he was wearing hugged his biceps, the long lines of his back, his slim waist: all the good stuff.
Well. Not all the good stuff. His tight faded jeans were hugging the rest.
And once she’d thought that, Betty had to ask herself whether she’d asked Daniel over tonight hoping that nothing sexual would happen between them - or hoping that it would.
Daniel had remained true to his promise; he hadn’t asked her to come back to bed with him, hadn’t even hinted at it. They’d spent time together at the office, went out to lunch, and attended occasional networking functions and designer bashes in the city, always as warm and affectionate as before - maybe even more so - but without him putting even one toe over the line she’d drawn.
Betty knew she ought to be glad about that. Relieved, even. Though she’d noticed he still wasn’t dating again; he still hadn’t moved on from Molly. She told herself that she hated to think of him being lonely. That the reason she sometimes regretted her absolute rejection of any future nights for them was that she was worried about him still being cut off from life and affection and joy.
And yet she also knew, beyond any denying, that she desperately wanted him to touch her again.
Why was it so hard for her to admit that to herself? It was just that the sex was so good, really, and so it wasn’t totally shocking that she’d want to be with him again. Betty had been lonely and downcast when they first hooked up, or it never would have happened. That first night had been a wonderful release, a sweet moment of intimacy between friends. But the second night - that was what kept running though her mind every night when she tried to sleep. She hadn’t known she could let go like that, or imagined how arousing it would be to see Daniel both in control and in her thrall.
Which was not where her brain needed to be, not while her good friend and boss was across the room, unpacking their Chinese food. Betty tried to pull herself together, and then she heard Daniel’s voice:
“Your place or mine?”
“What?” She turned to stare at him, mouth slightly agape.
Daniel held out a carton. “Your snow peas or mine? I don’t even remember what I ordered.”
“Oh. Mine. You got the beef with broccoli.” Her pulse racing, Betty put on her best smile and joined him at the table in the hopes dinner would get her head together.
It didn’t.
“I guess it’s kind of nice that Matt was still reading your blog,” Daniel suggested, as he nabbed a bit of broccoli with his chopsticks.
“Yeah, but I had no idea he would read the stuff about Botswana and leave the country.”
“Just for six months.”
“Six months is, like, eternity in Amanda-years.”
He studied her so carefully that it seemed almost like flirtation - certainly it made her breath quicken slightly as Daniel’s eyes met hers and held them. However, he said only, “It’s only six months in Betty-years.”
Wrinkling her nose, Betty said, “Do you think I’m still hung up on Matt?”
“Not really.” Daniel shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess … well, I noticed you weren’t seeing anybody else. That’s all.”
Here we go, Betty thought. This was a signal, a sign he was about to start flirting, as a way of leading them back into bed at last. She kept her eyes averted as she shrugged.
Which was when Daniel said - “Maybe I’ll rehire Amanda as my assistant. It would take her mind off things.”
“Huh?” She blinked. “But Marc’s your assistant. You said he was doing a terrific job. Which, of course, he would. If he wasn’t a terrific assistant, there’s no way he would have survived two days with Wilhelmina, much less three years.”
“The assistant-sharing thing isn’t panning out. It’s too much work for only one person, particularly when you figure in Wilhelmina’s Botox injections.” He ran his hand over his chin. “Besides, Marc keeps trying to get me to shave the beard.”
“You should keep it. I like it.” Was she flirting now? Maybe. At any rate, that would be suggestive enough to get Daniel to start flirting. Any second now.
“I know you do. I do too. Hey, is it okay if I put on the radio?”
“Um, sure.” Betty watched, slightly dazed, as Daniel tuned her computer to an internet radio station playing classical music, which was pretty but not exactly a seduction soundtrack. That was when it hit her: Daniel really wasn’t going to make a move. Not tonight. Not ever.
Before she could stop herself, Betty thought, I guess it’s up to me.
Her eyes widened. Daniel, oblivious to her confusion, poured himself some more wine and took a seat on the couch; his dinner done, he seemed to be thinking of nothing more than relaxing before getting back to work. Her brain was more easily derailed.
Having a brain more easily derailed than Daniel’s was mortifying enough, but Betty’s main source of confusion struck a lot closer to home.
You can’t do this, she told herself. Yeah, you just want to have really great sex again, and no other candidate has showed up. Daniel’s still in a deeply vulnerable place. You shouldn’t take advantage of his loneliness.
Another voice inside her answered back: He’s getting better! Getting stronger! If he managed the first two nights okay, he can manage one more. You both can. You’re adults. Mature, responsible adults. In his case, he is a mature responsible adult who just spread his arms across the back of your sofa, which makes his chest muscles look amazing, and oh God just ask him just ask him already because I can’t be here with him like this and not touch him.
Slightly shaky, Betty rose from her chair to pour herself a little more wine too. Daniel was saying, “I keep wondering exactly why Marc and Amanda removed the top layer of tiles from your shower. But if I ask them, they’ll tell me, and I think we might be better off not knowing.”
“You’re probably right.”
“It’s all taken care of now, though. Tiles all redone.”
She couldn’t help smiling; he looked so ridiculously proud of himself. “Since when do you know how to lay tile?”
“I went to a couple of classes at Home Depot with Molly. She wanted to change up the bathroom at our … at the apartment. We never got around to it, of course, but I still remember.” Despite the slight catch in his voice when he’d nearly spoken of the apartment as something that still belonged to them both, Daniel’s good mood appeared unshaken. But God, he still loved Molly. Why was it so hard to face a fact she knew so well? “It’s harder work than it looked when the Home Depot guy was doing it, though.”
“Thanks for giving it a try. Seriously, Daniel, I appreciate it.” If she hit on him now, would it come across as her just trying to thank him for fixing her tiles? With sex? That would be awful.
“No problem. I know how badly you wanted this place back. Besides, it gives us an excuse to hang out.” He shrugged his shoulders, a gesture that seemed incongruous until Betty realized he hadn’t spread out his arms to show off his gorgeous chest; he’d done it because he was sore from his labors.
And THAT was an opportunity too good to resist.
“You okay?” Betty stepped closer to him, around the back of the sofa.
“Yeah, fine,” he said, flexing his arms - and then wincing. “At least, mostly.”
Her hand felt warm and slightly weak as she set her wineglass down. “Here. Let me.” Betty rested her hands at the back of his neck, just where it tapered into his shoulders.
Daniel said nothing - didn’t move, didn’t even seem to breathe - until she kneaded her thumbs into the muscle. Then he groaned softly, a sound that awakened every memory she’d tried to hard to repress. Betty didn’t just hear it; she felt it in her throat, in her belly, between her legs.
She kept making circles, pressing in against his shoulders, working every muscle in turn. At one point, as she swept up to the back of his neck again, her thumb went over the collar of his T-shirt to brush against his skin. Daniel’s head drooped forward as he gave into the moment, and she could see enough of his face to know he’d shut his eyes. Neither of them spoke for a while.
The whole time, Betty kept wishing that Daniel would do something: reach up and take one of her hands in his, ask her to touch him somewhere else or perhaps all over, or maybe even turn around and kiss her. But he didn’t. As much as he was obviously enjoying this backrub, he still wasn’t going to make a move.
At this realization, Betty’s nerve deserted her. The idea of Daniel not jumping at the mere suggestion of sex - well, it had never occurred to her. She patted his shoulders awkwardly. “Okay. There you go. That’s better, huh?” Her chirpy tone made her want to wince; she couldn’t have sounded less sexy if she’d started talking in a Bart Simpson voice. Time to return to her wineglass and at least drown a bit of her embarrassment.
As she stepped away, though, Daniel looked over his shoulder at her. After a couple of seconds, he said, “Um, Betty?”
“Yeah?” Was he going to make a move at last? Her heart was thumping, and she couldn’t quite meet his eyes.
“When you asked me to come by and help out over here - well -“ A tiny, uncertain smile appeared on his face. “Betty, is this a booty call?”
Oh, God. She felt the flush sweeping over her face almost before the embarrassment. Struggling for composure, Betty said, “So I guess subtlety isn’t my strong suit. Though I kind of knew that already.”
“I wish you’d told me before I did a whole row of tile!” But Daniel smiled at her as he rose from the sofa, in a way that melted away her shame, her resolve and quite possibly her bones. “Hey.” His hands settled at her waist, one finger already hooked into her sash belt. The tone of his voice was soft like honey. “You know all you ever have to do is ask.”
She framed his face with her hands, his beard soft against her palms, and brought him down to her for a kiss that lasted much longer than she would have expected. Her memories of him were sharper than she’d known, too; the scent of his skin was familiar to her. Warm, known, welcoming, needed -
“Are you sure?” she whispered against his cheek. “I meant what I said before - at least, mostly I did. We can’t fall into the trap of relying on this.”
“I’m sure,” Daniel said. He wasn’t exactly the most reliable gauge of responsible behavior, but right now, she was going with it.
Betty took his hands and drew him back toward her bed, the same one she’d redressed with her brand-new pink sheets. They half-sat, half-stumbled to fall on the edge of the mattress, and for a long time just remained tangled up, kissing wildly. Even making out with Daniel was more exciting than some of the sex she’d had before.
Not that she intended to stop at making out: When her breaths were coming too fast to keep kissing him deeply, Betty finally went for his T-shirt, lifting it up as he raised his arms to help her. God, Daniel had the most amazing chest - almost entirely smooth skin, firm pecs, developed shoulders, defined abs and biceps. Betty sighed, a sound of such comical satisfaction that both she and Daniel started to grin.
“I missed this,” she said. “I missed you.”
“Missed you too. I seriously thought - never mind.”
Daniel kissed her, and she knew he meant to say I seriously thought we'd never do this again. She’d thought so too. From now on, whenever she remembered this connection between them, she couldn’t write it off as something she’d done ‘for Daniel.’ This was for her.
But when his hand slipped up the hem of her skirt to rest against her inner thigh, Betty decided she didn’t care who asked who.
“Hey. That first night, in the Bahamas - you said you were only just figuring out what you really wanted. In bed, I mean.” Daniel stretched out beside her on the bed, lazily kicking off his shoes. “Do you maybe want to tell me more about that?”
“You’ve pretty much figured it out.” Betty pulled her sweater over her head, remembering only as she tossed it aside that, not long ago, she’d felt shy about undressing in front of him. That seemed so foreign to her now.
His eyes sparkled with mischief, or perhaps anticipation. “Be specific.”
“I guess - well, before, most of my sex life had been more on the cuddly side. Not so much on the hot side.”
Daniel frowned a little as he stroked one of her bare arms with his fingertips. “They took care of you, right?”
“Yeah. Totally. I’ve been lucky. But Walter - you know, he could be sweet, but he wasn’t exactly imaginative, you know? Then Henry and I were counting down the end from the beginning. We played around some, but it was … playing. Trying stuff because we read about it, not because we really wanted it.” She smiled fondly. “Which can be hilarious. But not exactly smoking hot.”
“Henry,” Daniel said darkly, clearly thinking of the ways she’d gotten hurt with her first real love. She once would’ve found this annoying; now she found his protectiveness endearing. So she snuggled closer to him on the bed, lifting her hips in a suggestion for him to take off her skirt. He got the hint.
As he drew the zipper down along the length of her hip, she murmured, “Matt wouldn’t try anything much with me. He kept saying I was ‘too good’ for all the stuff he used to do with the girls he slept with while he was being irresponsible.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” Daniel pulled the skirt down her legs and tossed it toward the nearest chair. Now she wore only her underwear and the sash belt still tied around her waist. “What does that even mean? Why wouldn’t you try anything your partner wanted? Unless it was, you know, seriously creepy.”
“I think he wanted to be with me because he thought I was a ‘good girl,’ and in his brain, good girls stuck to the missionary position a lot. Even this massage oil I bought was wilder than he wanted us to be. The sex with him was - satisfying, I guess; it was just - quiet.” Betty sighed. The old fear welled up in her, but for the first time, she dared to share it with someone else: “Sometimes I thought maybe he dated me because he wasn’t that attracted to me.”
“Huh?”
She curled against Daniel’s side, and he embraced her. In his arms, she could say this old fear of hers out loud. “Maybe Matt was scared of his sex addiction. Maybe he thought the best way to get over it was to date someone - someone he wasn’t as into having sex with.”
“Hey.” Daniel took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, bringing her face closer to his. “There’s no way that’s true. Because any guy who had the chance to be with you once would be hooked for life. Trust me. I know.”
A warning bell sounded in her mind, but the concern was distant enough to ignore. “Maybe you bring it out in me.”
“Do you still not get how incredible you are in bed?”
Was he just soothing her feelings? Or was the chemistry they had together really as unusual and memorable for the far-more-experienced Daniel as it was for her? Betty smiled against his chest and whispered, “Show me again.”
“Okay - ” There was a teasing note to his voice now. “Any chance you’ve still got that massage oil?”
“Oh! Yeah, it’s in one of the first suitcases I brought over.”
“This really was a booty call.”
Betty shoved him back from her, but playfully, so that he rolled over on the bed chuckling. “It’s just in my toiletry kit, in the occasional/long-term use bag.”
“How do you make even organization seem adorable?” Daniel tugged at the ends of her sash belt, untying it in a way that made it seem as if he were unwrapping a present.
“It’s a gift. Hang on.”
She hopped off the bed and hurried to the suitcase in question. When she’d allowed herself to actually imagine making love with Daniel again, she’d always fixated on the wild abandon of their second night. But they could talk and be close and even laugh the whole time too, without it feeling any less hot. That was - a surprise. A nice surprise.
The little bottle of almond oil was still almost entirely full, still fragrant and soft to the touch as she poured a few drops on her fingers. Watching her, Daniel stripped off his jeans and boxers; the sight of him sitting naked on her bed, eagerly awaiting her, made Betty feel happy, powerful - and just as sexy as he’d claimed she was. She even felt daring enough to take off her bra and panties in - not really a striptease, but in a way he was meant to watch, and enjoy watching. Which, to judge by her view of his lap, he did.
She crawled onto the bed, making her way behind Daniel; finishing his back rub seemed like a better idea than ever. Betty quickly stowed her glasses on the bedside table, filled her palm with almond oil, then slid it along the line of his shoulders. He arched slightly, responding to the contact, as she ran her fingers up and down, spreading and heating the oil until his entire back glistened slightly, soft and supple to her touch. Now she could massage him deeply, working along the bulging muscles that spanned from his arms across his shoulder blades - down the length of his spine - all the way to the beginnings of the swell of his ass.
“Mmmm.” Daniel leaned backwards far enough for her to twist around and kiss him.
She murmured, “Lie down for me.”
Obediently, he stretched out on her bed, belly down. Betty had never gotten such a great look at his naked body before; he was even more beautiful, more perfectly proportioned, than she’d remembered. Another few drops of almond oil, and then she began caressing his ass, his thighs, his arms, every bit of him she could reach, going slow, taking her time. Though Daniel remained lying down, he responded to her every move. He was just letting her be in charge, almost as completely as he’d taken charge of her last time.
It felt amazing to be in charge of a man - especially this man - in bed.
Betty crawled over him, lowering herself so that the tips of her breasts brushed against his back; he moaned softly as she nuzzled the curve of his neck and whispered, “Turn over.”
Daniel shifted beneath her, managing to roll without forcing her to move; now they were face to face, almost skin to skin. She could feel their body heat warming the few inches between them. Their bodies only touched where her breasts rested upon his chest and his erection nudged at her lower belly. Betty kissed him once, very softly, then poured a thin line of oil down the middle of his chest.
She straddled him, his cock snug between his abdomen and her thigh, as she began massaging his pectoral muscles and his arms. When she lifted each hand in turn, she took the time to work into the muscles of his palm, the base of his thumb, even each finger. As Betty finished with the second hand, she lowered it to rest on the upper curve of her breast.
Though Daniel had allowed her to take the lead entirely up until now, he immediately began caressing her - both breasts - and his oiled hands felt amazingly good against her skin. As one thumb circled her nipple, she shivered; in a low voice, he said, “Maybe it’s your turn now.”
“I’m not done with you yet.” Betty scooted further down and poured a little more oil into her hands. But as she reached for his cock, Daniel suddenly grabbed her wrists to stop her.
“As much as I like this idea - you realize we can’t. Oil and condoms: Even worse than oil and water.”
“Oh, right.” Long-ago lessons in sex ed, little heeded at the time because the prospect of romance seemed so remote, swam back into memory. Something else popped into memory too - far more urgent. “Did you bring anything?”
“A condom? No.” Daniel propped up on his elbows, forehead furrowing in consternation. “You were the … booty caller. I thought I was coming over to fix your bathroom! It’s not in your toiletry kit thing?”
“I threw them out - well - when they expired.” So much for being the confident seductress. Betty groaned and leaned against Daniel, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry! I figured you’d have something.”
“I haven’t been with anyone but you in a long time,” he said simply, and that soothed her far more than it should have. Or maybe the deep satisfaction spreading through her was because Daniel then kissed her and said, “Let’s just pick up that massage where you left off.”
Betty kissed him again before she sat up, poured yet more oil and finally took him between her hands. He was rock-hard, skin hot against hers. She kept her grip firm, only loose enough to allow her hands to move up and down. One fist she kept at the tip, working him in a quick, gentle rhythm; with the other she stroked, hoping it felt something like it would have if he could have been inside her.
Daniel moved with her, thrusting into her hands more and more so that she did less and less, taking her cues from him. His fingers tensed on the bed, almost as if he might clutch the mattress, and his expression was shifting from intense concentration toward exhilaration. He started muttering - swear words, her name, Jesus, God, her name again - and it was amazing being able to watch him lose control, being able to feel the pulse in his cock as he thrust even deeper and came.
She stroked him all the way through it, her fingers sticky, until Daniel took a shuddering breath that seemed to release the tension in his body. His head lolled, totally relaxed, but with one hand he drew her to lie by his side.
Did he think she was shy about that? Her problem wasn’t being prudish; you’d think he’d know this much by now. So Betty began gently finger-painting along his abdomen before cleaning him up herself with a corner of the sheet.
“You give a great back rub,” he murmured.
“Hope you do too.”
“Oh, your turn is coming. Wait and see.” Daniel propped up on one arm, still loose in the aftermath of orgasm but with a glint in his eye. “Where’s that massage oil?”
Within seconds, he’d drizzled a line down the center of her chest, down to her belly, pooling a little in her navel. Then he drew a line in oil down one of her thighs, then the other. Daniel began making circles along her rib cage, only slowly allowing those circles to broaden until his fingers stroked the underside of her breasts. Betty arched up for him, and his slick, warm hands grasped her fully. Each stroke was different - sometimes his thumbs played with her nipples; sometimes he pressed in so that it almost hurt, in a good way; sometimes the touch was delicate, more of a tease. Betty stretched her hands overhead, grabbing hold of the headboard to hold herself steady; otherwise, she’d wriggle too much, and she wanted Daniel to be able to keep doing whatever he was doing.
Daniel had other ideas, though. His hands dipped lower, warming her belly, brushing her thighs, and then finally massaging her between her legs, fingers brushing oil in every swell and fold. She was already so turned on, so completely in the moment, that within only a few strokes, Betty could feel the energy building inside her, heating her up, rushing from the pit of her gut to the top of her head, until it burst.
As a moan escaped her lips, Betty sank back, limp. Daniel kissed her once just beneath her belly button, then murmured, “Turn over.”
She did so, and was treated to a long, thorough backrub as afterplay. While Daniel kneaded the flesh at her lower back, she said, “How is not having sex with you better than sex with anybody else?”
“Wait - oh, okay, I got what you mean now. You wouldn’t consider this sex? Felt like it to me.”
“This is more playing around, right?”
“If this was all we’d ever done, and somebody asked me if we’d had sex, I’d say yes. I mean, I’d say no, because we’re not telling people about this, but I’d be lying.”
Betty thought about it as she glanced over her shoulder to see him, still working away on her backrub, oiled hands stroking either side of her spine. “We didn’t do anything that had to involve birth control. So maybe that’s no sex.”
Daniel cocked an eyebrow at her. “That would mean Marc’s a virgin. So I don’t think that’s right.”
She started laughing, and they proceeded to have a ten-minute conversation about what sex was and wasn’t, where lines could be drawn, how Clinton-Lewinsky drama made everybody ask that, so on and so forth, until Betty was having almost as much fun talking to Daniel as she was curling up naked with him in her bed. But only almost.
As they went on, they spoke more slowly, more drowsily. As he lay down next to her, Daniel said, “Anyway, if this is not having sex with you, I like not having sex with you.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “But I think it’s having sex with you. And I like that even more.”
“Mmm.” It was as much as she could say while kissing him. When their mouths parted, she whispered, “I should turn out some more of the lights. We’re falling asleep.”
“Oh, good.” He spoke as if it were a bit of a surprise. Then she realized that, last time, she’d argued against a sleepover, but now that just seemed silly. It was nice to go to sleep with her head resting against Daniel’s chest - so nice -
The lights burned on into the night.
**
The next morning, they overslept, and Daniel was due for brunch with his mother down in the Village; this meant that he dashed straight for the shower, and she was left to wonder whether it was a good or bad thing that they hadn’t had sex/not had sex/whatever it was they’d done, all over again. Finally Betty realized it was stupid to worry too much about something that had already happened, and besides - they had more immediate problems to deal with. Problems that lived right down the hall.
Daniel himself said, as soon as he emerged from the shower clad only in her Lilo & Stitch bath towel, “So how do I get out of here without Amanda or Marc seeing me?”
“I’ve been thinking about it; I know what to do.”
“What?”
“Get dressed first. When I make my move, you’ll have to be quick.”
He obediently put his clothes back on and grabbed his jacket as Betty went for her cellphone. Just as she was about to make the call, though, he cupped her chin in one hand. “Hey,” he said softly. “Last night was incredible. I’m really glad you asked me over.”
“I’m really glad you knew what I was up to.” She couldn’t resist smiling. “Otherwise I would’ve chickened out.”
“Don’t be so shy next time.”
“Okay. Here we go.” Betty brought up Amanda’s number and hit the green bar. Two rings and - “Hey! Amanda! Sorry to wake you up so early on a Saturday, but I thought you and Marc would want to know. I was just at that little coffee cart down the block, and guess who was hanging out on the corner? Tim Gunn! I know, right? He’d still be there, because he was totally making out with this hot guy - he looked familiar, probably somebody from reality TV, you’d know better than I would - hello?” She looked down at the phone, which read DISCONNECTED.
From down the hall, they heard the door slam, and two pairs of footsteps thudding down the stairs at lightning speed. Marc’s distant voice said, “I am so filming this!”
Daniel grinned. “You’re a genius.”
“I have my moments. You’d better hurry.”
“Okay.” He kissed her goodbye, quickly but so gently that it reminded her of how delicate he could be in bed. “See you soon.”
When he ducked into the hallway, Betty watched him go, then shut the door behind him. Only after Daniel was gone did she realize exactly what he’d said, and what it meant: Don’t be so shy next time.
They’d always promised each other before that every time was the last time. Now Daniel assumed they’d make love again.
Betty thought that was a dangerous assumption to make, not least because she suspected he was right.
**
continued tomorrow --
"Friends With Benefits"
by yahtzee63
Part Three
“I tried talking to Amanda about it,” Betty said as she scraped pink and crimson ribbons of nail polish from the doorjamb, where Amanda had “tested” each shade. “She accused me of trying to rub it in. Then she said men were evil. Then she cried on my desk for a while until Marc brought her a delivery pizza. She ate the whole thing. That seemed to stabilize her.”
“Poor Amanda.” Daniel’s voice echoed slightly off the tiles in her bathroom; he was in there trying to undo some of the damage Amanda and Marc had done during their brief, disastrous tenancy in Betty’s former apartment.
Correction, she thought: As of today, again my current apartment. I’m back where I ought to be.
With new enthusiasm, she kept at her work as Daniel continued, “I know this might not be what you want to hear, exactly, but I think Amanda was serious about Matt.”
The idea of being jealous about Matt Hartley already seemed like something Betty dimly remembered from a dream. “No, you’re right. I mean, if she hadn’t been, she wouldn’t have stormed out of this apartment - excuse me, this ‘den of taunting evil memories.’ I thought they were happy together. But Matt - he was always kind of looking for the next thing, you know? I guess he’s still wandering.”
“To Africa, this time.” Daniel stuck his head out of the bathroom door; a few tiny chips of plaster dotted his hair. “Is it wrong to wonder what would’ve happened if he’d asked Amanda to go with him to do charity work? Or to think that would’ve been hilarious?”
Betty couldn’t help grinning. “I hope not. Or we’re both headed straight to hell.” Someone knocked on the door just inches from her face, which made her jump, but then she said, “Speaking of delivery food, dinner’s here!”
“Let me get it.” He came out, wallet already in hand, but Betty shook her head.
“I promised you dinner as payment for services rendered. Sit. Or if you want, open that bottle of wine. It ought to be cold by now.” As he did what she asked, she paid for their delivery Chinese food - but all the while, she could see Daniel from the corner of her eye. That gray T-shirt he was wearing hugged his biceps, the long lines of his back, his slim waist: all the good stuff.
Well. Not all the good stuff. His tight faded jeans were hugging the rest.
And once she’d thought that, Betty had to ask herself whether she’d asked Daniel over tonight hoping that nothing sexual would happen between them - or hoping that it would.
Daniel had remained true to his promise; he hadn’t asked her to come back to bed with him, hadn’t even hinted at it. They’d spent time together at the office, went out to lunch, and attended occasional networking functions and designer bashes in the city, always as warm and affectionate as before - maybe even more so - but without him putting even one toe over the line she’d drawn.
Betty knew she ought to be glad about that. Relieved, even. Though she’d noticed he still wasn’t dating again; he still hadn’t moved on from Molly. She told herself that she hated to think of him being lonely. That the reason she sometimes regretted her absolute rejection of any future nights for them was that she was worried about him still being cut off from life and affection and joy.
And yet she also knew, beyond any denying, that she desperately wanted him to touch her again.
Why was it so hard for her to admit that to herself? It was just that the sex was so good, really, and so it wasn’t totally shocking that she’d want to be with him again. Betty had been lonely and downcast when they first hooked up, or it never would have happened. That first night had been a wonderful release, a sweet moment of intimacy between friends. But the second night - that was what kept running though her mind every night when she tried to sleep. She hadn’t known she could let go like that, or imagined how arousing it would be to see Daniel both in control and in her thrall.
Which was not where her brain needed to be, not while her good friend and boss was across the room, unpacking their Chinese food. Betty tried to pull herself together, and then she heard Daniel’s voice:
“Your place or mine?”
“What?” She turned to stare at him, mouth slightly agape.
Daniel held out a carton. “Your snow peas or mine? I don’t even remember what I ordered.”
“Oh. Mine. You got the beef with broccoli.” Her pulse racing, Betty put on her best smile and joined him at the table in the hopes dinner would get her head together.
It didn’t.
“I guess it’s kind of nice that Matt was still reading your blog,” Daniel suggested, as he nabbed a bit of broccoli with his chopsticks.
“Yeah, but I had no idea he would read the stuff about Botswana and leave the country.”
“Just for six months.”
“Six months is, like, eternity in Amanda-years.”
He studied her so carefully that it seemed almost like flirtation - certainly it made her breath quicken slightly as Daniel’s eyes met hers and held them. However, he said only, “It’s only six months in Betty-years.”
Wrinkling her nose, Betty said, “Do you think I’m still hung up on Matt?”
“Not really.” Daniel shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess … well, I noticed you weren’t seeing anybody else. That’s all.”
Here we go, Betty thought. This was a signal, a sign he was about to start flirting, as a way of leading them back into bed at last. She kept her eyes averted as she shrugged.
Which was when Daniel said - “Maybe I’ll rehire Amanda as my assistant. It would take her mind off things.”
“Huh?” She blinked. “But Marc’s your assistant. You said he was doing a terrific job. Which, of course, he would. If he wasn’t a terrific assistant, there’s no way he would have survived two days with Wilhelmina, much less three years.”
“The assistant-sharing thing isn’t panning out. It’s too much work for only one person, particularly when you figure in Wilhelmina’s Botox injections.” He ran his hand over his chin. “Besides, Marc keeps trying to get me to shave the beard.”
“You should keep it. I like it.” Was she flirting now? Maybe. At any rate, that would be suggestive enough to get Daniel to start flirting. Any second now.
“I know you do. I do too. Hey, is it okay if I put on the radio?”
“Um, sure.” Betty watched, slightly dazed, as Daniel tuned her computer to an internet radio station playing classical music, which was pretty but not exactly a seduction soundtrack. That was when it hit her: Daniel really wasn’t going to make a move. Not tonight. Not ever.
Before she could stop herself, Betty thought, I guess it’s up to me.
Her eyes widened. Daniel, oblivious to her confusion, poured himself some more wine and took a seat on the couch; his dinner done, he seemed to be thinking of nothing more than relaxing before getting back to work. Her brain was more easily derailed.
Having a brain more easily derailed than Daniel’s was mortifying enough, but Betty’s main source of confusion struck a lot closer to home.
You can’t do this, she told herself. Yeah, you just want to have really great sex again, and no other candidate has showed up. Daniel’s still in a deeply vulnerable place. You shouldn’t take advantage of his loneliness.
Another voice inside her answered back: He’s getting better! Getting stronger! If he managed the first two nights okay, he can manage one more. You both can. You’re adults. Mature, responsible adults. In his case, he is a mature responsible adult who just spread his arms across the back of your sofa, which makes his chest muscles look amazing, and oh God just ask him just ask him already because I can’t be here with him like this and not touch him.
Slightly shaky, Betty rose from her chair to pour herself a little more wine too. Daniel was saying, “I keep wondering exactly why Marc and Amanda removed the top layer of tiles from your shower. But if I ask them, they’ll tell me, and I think we might be better off not knowing.”
“You’re probably right.”
“It’s all taken care of now, though. Tiles all redone.”
She couldn’t help smiling; he looked so ridiculously proud of himself. “Since when do you know how to lay tile?”
“I went to a couple of classes at Home Depot with Molly. She wanted to change up the bathroom at our … at the apartment. We never got around to it, of course, but I still remember.” Despite the slight catch in his voice when he’d nearly spoken of the apartment as something that still belonged to them both, Daniel’s good mood appeared unshaken. But God, he still loved Molly. Why was it so hard to face a fact she knew so well? “It’s harder work than it looked when the Home Depot guy was doing it, though.”
“Thanks for giving it a try. Seriously, Daniel, I appreciate it.” If she hit on him now, would it come across as her just trying to thank him for fixing her tiles? With sex? That would be awful.
“No problem. I know how badly you wanted this place back. Besides, it gives us an excuse to hang out.” He shrugged his shoulders, a gesture that seemed incongruous until Betty realized he hadn’t spread out his arms to show off his gorgeous chest; he’d done it because he was sore from his labors.
And THAT was an opportunity too good to resist.
“You okay?” Betty stepped closer to him, around the back of the sofa.
“Yeah, fine,” he said, flexing his arms - and then wincing. “At least, mostly.”
Her hand felt warm and slightly weak as she set her wineglass down. “Here. Let me.” Betty rested her hands at the back of his neck, just where it tapered into his shoulders.
Daniel said nothing - didn’t move, didn’t even seem to breathe - until she kneaded her thumbs into the muscle. Then he groaned softly, a sound that awakened every memory she’d tried to hard to repress. Betty didn’t just hear it; she felt it in her throat, in her belly, between her legs.
She kept making circles, pressing in against his shoulders, working every muscle in turn. At one point, as she swept up to the back of his neck again, her thumb went over the collar of his T-shirt to brush against his skin. Daniel’s head drooped forward as he gave into the moment, and she could see enough of his face to know he’d shut his eyes. Neither of them spoke for a while.
The whole time, Betty kept wishing that Daniel would do something: reach up and take one of her hands in his, ask her to touch him somewhere else or perhaps all over, or maybe even turn around and kiss her. But he didn’t. As much as he was obviously enjoying this backrub, he still wasn’t going to make a move.
At this realization, Betty’s nerve deserted her. The idea of Daniel not jumping at the mere suggestion of sex - well, it had never occurred to her. She patted his shoulders awkwardly. “Okay. There you go. That’s better, huh?” Her chirpy tone made her want to wince; she couldn’t have sounded less sexy if she’d started talking in a Bart Simpson voice. Time to return to her wineglass and at least drown a bit of her embarrassment.
As she stepped away, though, Daniel looked over his shoulder at her. After a couple of seconds, he said, “Um, Betty?”
“Yeah?” Was he going to make a move at last? Her heart was thumping, and she couldn’t quite meet his eyes.
“When you asked me to come by and help out over here - well -“ A tiny, uncertain smile appeared on his face. “Betty, is this a booty call?”
Oh, God. She felt the flush sweeping over her face almost before the embarrassment. Struggling for composure, Betty said, “So I guess subtlety isn’t my strong suit. Though I kind of knew that already.”
“I wish you’d told me before I did a whole row of tile!” But Daniel smiled at her as he rose from the sofa, in a way that melted away her shame, her resolve and quite possibly her bones. “Hey.” His hands settled at her waist, one finger already hooked into her sash belt. The tone of his voice was soft like honey. “You know all you ever have to do is ask.”
She framed his face with her hands, his beard soft against her palms, and brought him down to her for a kiss that lasted much longer than she would have expected. Her memories of him were sharper than she’d known, too; the scent of his skin was familiar to her. Warm, known, welcoming, needed -
“Are you sure?” she whispered against his cheek. “I meant what I said before - at least, mostly I did. We can’t fall into the trap of relying on this.”
“I’m sure,” Daniel said. He wasn’t exactly the most reliable gauge of responsible behavior, but right now, she was going with it.
Betty took his hands and drew him back toward her bed, the same one she’d redressed with her brand-new pink sheets. They half-sat, half-stumbled to fall on the edge of the mattress, and for a long time just remained tangled up, kissing wildly. Even making out with Daniel was more exciting than some of the sex she’d had before.
Not that she intended to stop at making out: When her breaths were coming too fast to keep kissing him deeply, Betty finally went for his T-shirt, lifting it up as he raised his arms to help her. God, Daniel had the most amazing chest - almost entirely smooth skin, firm pecs, developed shoulders, defined abs and biceps. Betty sighed, a sound of such comical satisfaction that both she and Daniel started to grin.
“I missed this,” she said. “I missed you.”
“Missed you too. I seriously thought - never mind.”
Daniel kissed her, and she knew he meant to say I seriously thought we'd never do this again. She’d thought so too. From now on, whenever she remembered this connection between them, she couldn’t write it off as something she’d done ‘for Daniel.’ This was for her.
But when his hand slipped up the hem of her skirt to rest against her inner thigh, Betty decided she didn’t care who asked who.
“Hey. That first night, in the Bahamas - you said you were only just figuring out what you really wanted. In bed, I mean.” Daniel stretched out beside her on the bed, lazily kicking off his shoes. “Do you maybe want to tell me more about that?”
“You’ve pretty much figured it out.” Betty pulled her sweater over her head, remembering only as she tossed it aside that, not long ago, she’d felt shy about undressing in front of him. That seemed so foreign to her now.
His eyes sparkled with mischief, or perhaps anticipation. “Be specific.”
“I guess - well, before, most of my sex life had been more on the cuddly side. Not so much on the hot side.”
Daniel frowned a little as he stroked one of her bare arms with his fingertips. “They took care of you, right?”
“Yeah. Totally. I’ve been lucky. But Walter - you know, he could be sweet, but he wasn’t exactly imaginative, you know? Then Henry and I were counting down the end from the beginning. We played around some, but it was … playing. Trying stuff because we read about it, not because we really wanted it.” She smiled fondly. “Which can be hilarious. But not exactly smoking hot.”
“Henry,” Daniel said darkly, clearly thinking of the ways she’d gotten hurt with her first real love. She once would’ve found this annoying; now she found his protectiveness endearing. So she snuggled closer to him on the bed, lifting her hips in a suggestion for him to take off her skirt. He got the hint.
As he drew the zipper down along the length of her hip, she murmured, “Matt wouldn’t try anything much with me. He kept saying I was ‘too good’ for all the stuff he used to do with the girls he slept with while he was being irresponsible.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” Daniel pulled the skirt down her legs and tossed it toward the nearest chair. Now she wore only her underwear and the sash belt still tied around her waist. “What does that even mean? Why wouldn’t you try anything your partner wanted? Unless it was, you know, seriously creepy.”
“I think he wanted to be with me because he thought I was a ‘good girl,’ and in his brain, good girls stuck to the missionary position a lot. Even this massage oil I bought was wilder than he wanted us to be. The sex with him was - satisfying, I guess; it was just - quiet.” Betty sighed. The old fear welled up in her, but for the first time, she dared to share it with someone else: “Sometimes I thought maybe he dated me because he wasn’t that attracted to me.”
“Huh?”
She curled against Daniel’s side, and he embraced her. In his arms, she could say this old fear of hers out loud. “Maybe Matt was scared of his sex addiction. Maybe he thought the best way to get over it was to date someone - someone he wasn’t as into having sex with.”
“Hey.” Daniel took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, bringing her face closer to his. “There’s no way that’s true. Because any guy who had the chance to be with you once would be hooked for life. Trust me. I know.”
A warning bell sounded in her mind, but the concern was distant enough to ignore. “Maybe you bring it out in me.”
“Do you still not get how incredible you are in bed?”
Was he just soothing her feelings? Or was the chemistry they had together really as unusual and memorable for the far-more-experienced Daniel as it was for her? Betty smiled against his chest and whispered, “Show me again.”
“Okay - ” There was a teasing note to his voice now. “Any chance you’ve still got that massage oil?”
“Oh! Yeah, it’s in one of the first suitcases I brought over.”
“This really was a booty call.”
Betty shoved him back from her, but playfully, so that he rolled over on the bed chuckling. “It’s just in my toiletry kit, in the occasional/long-term use bag.”
“How do you make even organization seem adorable?” Daniel tugged at the ends of her sash belt, untying it in a way that made it seem as if he were unwrapping a present.
“It’s a gift. Hang on.”
She hopped off the bed and hurried to the suitcase in question. When she’d allowed herself to actually imagine making love with Daniel again, she’d always fixated on the wild abandon of their second night. But they could talk and be close and even laugh the whole time too, without it feeling any less hot. That was - a surprise. A nice surprise.
The little bottle of almond oil was still almost entirely full, still fragrant and soft to the touch as she poured a few drops on her fingers. Watching her, Daniel stripped off his jeans and boxers; the sight of him sitting naked on her bed, eagerly awaiting her, made Betty feel happy, powerful - and just as sexy as he’d claimed she was. She even felt daring enough to take off her bra and panties in - not really a striptease, but in a way he was meant to watch, and enjoy watching. Which, to judge by her view of his lap, he did.
She crawled onto the bed, making her way behind Daniel; finishing his back rub seemed like a better idea than ever. Betty quickly stowed her glasses on the bedside table, filled her palm with almond oil, then slid it along the line of his shoulders. He arched slightly, responding to the contact, as she ran her fingers up and down, spreading and heating the oil until his entire back glistened slightly, soft and supple to her touch. Now she could massage him deeply, working along the bulging muscles that spanned from his arms across his shoulder blades - down the length of his spine - all the way to the beginnings of the swell of his ass.
“Mmmm.” Daniel leaned backwards far enough for her to twist around and kiss him.
She murmured, “Lie down for me.”
Obediently, he stretched out on her bed, belly down. Betty had never gotten such a great look at his naked body before; he was even more beautiful, more perfectly proportioned, than she’d remembered. Another few drops of almond oil, and then she began caressing his ass, his thighs, his arms, every bit of him she could reach, going slow, taking her time. Though Daniel remained lying down, he responded to her every move. He was just letting her be in charge, almost as completely as he’d taken charge of her last time.
It felt amazing to be in charge of a man - especially this man - in bed.
Betty crawled over him, lowering herself so that the tips of her breasts brushed against his back; he moaned softly as she nuzzled the curve of his neck and whispered, “Turn over.”
Daniel shifted beneath her, managing to roll without forcing her to move; now they were face to face, almost skin to skin. She could feel their body heat warming the few inches between them. Their bodies only touched where her breasts rested upon his chest and his erection nudged at her lower belly. Betty kissed him once, very softly, then poured a thin line of oil down the middle of his chest.
She straddled him, his cock snug between his abdomen and her thigh, as she began massaging his pectoral muscles and his arms. When she lifted each hand in turn, she took the time to work into the muscles of his palm, the base of his thumb, even each finger. As Betty finished with the second hand, she lowered it to rest on the upper curve of her breast.
Though Daniel had allowed her to take the lead entirely up until now, he immediately began caressing her - both breasts - and his oiled hands felt amazingly good against her skin. As one thumb circled her nipple, she shivered; in a low voice, he said, “Maybe it’s your turn now.”
“I’m not done with you yet.” Betty scooted further down and poured a little more oil into her hands. But as she reached for his cock, Daniel suddenly grabbed her wrists to stop her.
“As much as I like this idea - you realize we can’t. Oil and condoms: Even worse than oil and water.”
“Oh, right.” Long-ago lessons in sex ed, little heeded at the time because the prospect of romance seemed so remote, swam back into memory. Something else popped into memory too - far more urgent. “Did you bring anything?”
“A condom? No.” Daniel propped up on his elbows, forehead furrowing in consternation. “You were the … booty caller. I thought I was coming over to fix your bathroom! It’s not in your toiletry kit thing?”
“I threw them out - well - when they expired.” So much for being the confident seductress. Betty groaned and leaned against Daniel, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry! I figured you’d have something.”
“I haven’t been with anyone but you in a long time,” he said simply, and that soothed her far more than it should have. Or maybe the deep satisfaction spreading through her was because Daniel then kissed her and said, “Let’s just pick up that massage where you left off.”
Betty kissed him again before she sat up, poured yet more oil and finally took him between her hands. He was rock-hard, skin hot against hers. She kept her grip firm, only loose enough to allow her hands to move up and down. One fist she kept at the tip, working him in a quick, gentle rhythm; with the other she stroked, hoping it felt something like it would have if he could have been inside her.
Daniel moved with her, thrusting into her hands more and more so that she did less and less, taking her cues from him. His fingers tensed on the bed, almost as if he might clutch the mattress, and his expression was shifting from intense concentration toward exhilaration. He started muttering - swear words, her name, Jesus, God, her name again - and it was amazing being able to watch him lose control, being able to feel the pulse in his cock as he thrust even deeper and came.
She stroked him all the way through it, her fingers sticky, until Daniel took a shuddering breath that seemed to release the tension in his body. His head lolled, totally relaxed, but with one hand he drew her to lie by his side.
Did he think she was shy about that? Her problem wasn’t being prudish; you’d think he’d know this much by now. So Betty began gently finger-painting along his abdomen before cleaning him up herself with a corner of the sheet.
“You give a great back rub,” he murmured.
“Hope you do too.”
“Oh, your turn is coming. Wait and see.” Daniel propped up on one arm, still loose in the aftermath of orgasm but with a glint in his eye. “Where’s that massage oil?”
Within seconds, he’d drizzled a line down the center of her chest, down to her belly, pooling a little in her navel. Then he drew a line in oil down one of her thighs, then the other. Daniel began making circles along her rib cage, only slowly allowing those circles to broaden until his fingers stroked the underside of her breasts. Betty arched up for him, and his slick, warm hands grasped her fully. Each stroke was different - sometimes his thumbs played with her nipples; sometimes he pressed in so that it almost hurt, in a good way; sometimes the touch was delicate, more of a tease. Betty stretched her hands overhead, grabbing hold of the headboard to hold herself steady; otherwise, she’d wriggle too much, and she wanted Daniel to be able to keep doing whatever he was doing.
Daniel had other ideas, though. His hands dipped lower, warming her belly, brushing her thighs, and then finally massaging her between her legs, fingers brushing oil in every swell and fold. She was already so turned on, so completely in the moment, that within only a few strokes, Betty could feel the energy building inside her, heating her up, rushing from the pit of her gut to the top of her head, until it burst.
As a moan escaped her lips, Betty sank back, limp. Daniel kissed her once just beneath her belly button, then murmured, “Turn over.”
She did so, and was treated to a long, thorough backrub as afterplay. While Daniel kneaded the flesh at her lower back, she said, “How is not having sex with you better than sex with anybody else?”
“Wait - oh, okay, I got what you mean now. You wouldn’t consider this sex? Felt like it to me.”
“This is more playing around, right?”
“If this was all we’d ever done, and somebody asked me if we’d had sex, I’d say yes. I mean, I’d say no, because we’re not telling people about this, but I’d be lying.”
Betty thought about it as she glanced over her shoulder to see him, still working away on her backrub, oiled hands stroking either side of her spine. “We didn’t do anything that had to involve birth control. So maybe that’s no sex.”
Daniel cocked an eyebrow at her. “That would mean Marc’s a virgin. So I don’t think that’s right.”
She started laughing, and they proceeded to have a ten-minute conversation about what sex was and wasn’t, where lines could be drawn, how Clinton-Lewinsky drama made everybody ask that, so on and so forth, until Betty was having almost as much fun talking to Daniel as she was curling up naked with him in her bed. But only almost.
As they went on, they spoke more slowly, more drowsily. As he lay down next to her, Daniel said, “Anyway, if this is not having sex with you, I like not having sex with you.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “But I think it’s having sex with you. And I like that even more.”
“Mmm.” It was as much as she could say while kissing him. When their mouths parted, she whispered, “I should turn out some more of the lights. We’re falling asleep.”
“Oh, good.” He spoke as if it were a bit of a surprise. Then she realized that, last time, she’d argued against a sleepover, but now that just seemed silly. It was nice to go to sleep with her head resting against Daniel’s chest - so nice -
The lights burned on into the night.
**
The next morning, they overslept, and Daniel was due for brunch with his mother down in the Village; this meant that he dashed straight for the shower, and she was left to wonder whether it was a good or bad thing that they hadn’t had sex/not had sex/whatever it was they’d done, all over again. Finally Betty realized it was stupid to worry too much about something that had already happened, and besides - they had more immediate problems to deal with. Problems that lived right down the hall.
Daniel himself said, as soon as he emerged from the shower clad only in her Lilo & Stitch bath towel, “So how do I get out of here without Amanda or Marc seeing me?”
“I’ve been thinking about it; I know what to do.”
“What?”
“Get dressed first. When I make my move, you’ll have to be quick.”
He obediently put his clothes back on and grabbed his jacket as Betty went for her cellphone. Just as she was about to make the call, though, he cupped her chin in one hand. “Hey,” he said softly. “Last night was incredible. I’m really glad you asked me over.”
“I’m really glad you knew what I was up to.” She couldn’t resist smiling. “Otherwise I would’ve chickened out.”
“Don’t be so shy next time.”
“Okay. Here we go.” Betty brought up Amanda’s number and hit the green bar. Two rings and - “Hey! Amanda! Sorry to wake you up so early on a Saturday, but I thought you and Marc would want to know. I was just at that little coffee cart down the block, and guess who was hanging out on the corner? Tim Gunn! I know, right? He’d still be there, because he was totally making out with this hot guy - he looked familiar, probably somebody from reality TV, you’d know better than I would - hello?” She looked down at the phone, which read DISCONNECTED.
From down the hall, they heard the door slam, and two pairs of footsteps thudding down the stairs at lightning speed. Marc’s distant voice said, “I am so filming this!”
Daniel grinned. “You’re a genius.”
“I have my moments. You’d better hurry.”
“Okay.” He kissed her goodbye, quickly but so gently that it reminded her of how delicate he could be in bed. “See you soon.”
When he ducked into the hallway, Betty watched him go, then shut the door behind him. Only after Daniel was gone did she realize exactly what he’d said, and what it meant: Don’t be so shy next time.
They’d always promised each other before that every time was the last time. Now Daniel assumed they’d make love again.
Betty thought that was a dangerous assumption to make, not least because she suspected he was right.
**
continued tomorrow --