So I like to think about Em and Faye a lot, and recently I kept thinking about what if Em never worked for Faye? But instead they met in a different, much less professional way. So here is a little bonus chapter for you!
Emerson's Point of View
We were at The Hole. Roger, Eric, and I. Saturday night, late July. It was packed. I honestly couldn't even move through the crowd without touching someone. A lot of men were shirtless but I was way too scrawny to pull off being shirtless. I was just in a pair of teal blue shorts that were short for a guy and a little high-waisted. I was wearing a gray tank top, tucked into the shorts. I looked good, blues and greens and grays were always flattering on me. I was glistening in sweat, my summer tan glowing. I looked damn good, and apparently I wasn't the only one who thought so.
As I was leaning against the bar with my friends Roger and Eric (third wheel, I know), after we tore up the dance floor, a man with curly brown hair and glasses approached me with another, Latino man.
"Hi there," said glasses guy.
"Uh, hey," I replied. I was prepared to turn down a threesome. Not my cup of tea.
"I'm Michael, and this is Emilio."
"Hola," said Emilio, flashing a grin. "Would you and your two friends like to join us in the VIP room?"
"Oh fuck yeah," answered Roger, before I could say anything.
"Wait, what's in the VIP room?" I asked.
"Free but expensive alcohol, beautiful people, and anything that you could pretty much ask for," said Emilio.
"But why are you inviting us?" I asked.
"We're not inviting you. The one who owns the VIP room invited you. He would like to get to know you, and anyone who's anyone wants to get to know him," Michael said.
"Who is he?"
Emilio smirked. "You'll have to come in to find out."
"Come on Em, let's go," Eric said. "Once in a lifetime opportunity."
"I know, but like...it's kind of creepy that someone wants to invite me but isn't coming to me himself. Like, he won't put anything in my drink will he?"
"Em is it?" Michael asked. "Our friend, the one who owns the room, owns this whole place, and pretty much everything in this country."
"Bitch I don't care about that," I replied. I swore more after a couple of drinks.
"Em," Emilio said. "You won't get hurt. There are too many people in there for that to happen, okay? So come on. Take a risk."
"Yeah, ya little bitch," Michael the sass-master replied.
"Fine," I said. "Let's go."
The two guys, holding hands, led us to the back area where a tall body guard was blocking a gold door. We went inside and the room was large, had a dance floor in the middle, and lots of attractive, clearly-very-rich people. I lived in the tiniest studio apartment you could imagine, so I felt out of place immediately. Some of the people looked familiar, as if they were famous some how. Roger and Eric, both of whom have better bodies than I had, were shirtless and quickly went to the dance floor with the other shirtless men. I almost left, feeling alone, but then a very pretty woman came up to me at the bar.
"Hi there, you look lonely," she said.
"Yeah, I'm just third wheeling it tonight. Not too sure why I was invited in here," I said.
"That's fine, alright? I'm Carla."
"Nice to meet you. I'm Emerson. So, this is primarily a gay bar, right? Why are you here? Like, no offense, you know."
She laughed, her long black hair falling over her shoulders. "No, it's okay. I just happen to have a lot of friends who come here. My boss, his boss, everyone that works for him."
"Wow, that's a really gay workplace. How do I get hired?"
She laughed again. I'm so good at making people laugh. "It's rather competitive, but my boss has already taken a liking to you anyway."
"Oh really? That Michael guy and Emilio guy said I was invited in here because their friend who owned the place liked me. It's not some creepy old guy is it?" I asked. The bartender set down a cocktail in front of me without saying anything.
"Oh no. I'm surprised you don't know who owns the place," she said. "Cocktails are on the house by the way."
"Cool." I took a sip. It tasted like birthday cake.
"My boss, who is like just one of my friends really, thinks you're cute."
"Okay, but let me guess. He just wants to sleep with me."
Carla shrugged. "He doesn't really fool around anymore. When he was younger he would do this, he would find an attractive young man or woman to come to him and have sex with, because nobody really wants to miss the chance to sleep with him. But, he hasn't done that in a long time. You must be really cute to him."
"Is he attractive?" I asked, sipping my birthday cake more.
She smirked. "He's very attractive. He was once voted sexiest man alive a few years ago. Would you like to meet him?"
"I mean, I don't want to sleep with him."
"You can still meet him."
I shrugged. "Well, if he's so sexy and famous I guess I should. Where is he?"
"He's in his private room."
I crossed my eyes. "Why does he have a private room in the private VIP room?"
"Well, it's actually a way he can leave the club without paparazzi seeing him."
I snorted. "Okay, I guess. Let's go."
Carla with the pretty black hair and smile led me through the crowd of shirtless and sweaty men, through the dim violet and red lights, through the vibrating speakers to a door all the way in the back. She pressed a little button on a keypad and Michael with the glasses answered.
"Hey Michael," Carla greeted. "Emerson and I wanted to come in and say hello."
"Oh perfect!" Michael exclaimed. His eyes were a bit more glassy and his large glass was almost empty. He seemed more fun when a little intoxicated. "Come in, my dears." He pushed open the door and we were a room that wasn't that extraordinary. It had a few couches, a big TV, and a bar. It kind of looked like a man cave.
"So where is this guy?" I asked.
"Probably taking a shit," Emilio said, from the couch, eating chips.
"Nonsense," Michael sang. "He is in the bathroom but he actually wants to meet you alone to make it less awkward since you pretty much don't know anyone." Michael nodded, reassuring himself.
Emilio groaned. "Fine, we all need to leave then. Come on babe." He grabbed Michael's arm and led him out of the room.
"Are you okay?" Carla asked.
"Yeah, I mean he's not gonna like...force me or anything is he?"
She shook her head. "No. I promise. He just doesn't want to overwhelm you."
"So, what does he want from me?" I put my hand on my hip. I was not ready to sleep with some celebrity, and in reality why would someone who could get whoever he want want me?
"Honestly, I'm not sure. He could want to just sleep with you, but he's really nice, so just consider him as a new friend." She patted my arm and then left.
I sighed, the music quiet in the room. I sat on one of the couches, sinking into the plush. I had no idea what was on the television, and was too transfixed on trying to figure out what the characters were saying since they were speaking Spanish to notice the bathroom door open.
"Ah, I see you've made yourself comfortable."
When I turned to look and see who was talking to me, I felt like the biggest idiot there was. Carla and all them probably thought I was so stupid for not knowing who the hell they were talking about. They said this guy owns the club and pretty much everything, and that he was voted sexiest man alive before. Who else could it be other than Lafayette Jeff?
I tried to play it cool. "Oh, uh...yeah. I um...uh..."
"I'm Lafayette," he said, walking over to me.
"Of course, yeah. I know. I'm...I'm Emerson."
"Emerson? Or just Em?"
"Em is fine. Whatever is fine." I wasn't playing it that cool.
He grabbed two drinks from the bar and sat next to me. "Here," he said. "This might help you calm your nerves a bit."
I nodded, taking a big gulp of the mixed drink. "Yeah, sorry, it's just...it's you, you know."
He nodded, the famous smirk on his lips. "Yes. You don't have to be nervous around me, okay? I'm just here to get to know you."
"Why?" I took another big gulp.
"You just...are very cute."
"Oh, so you want to get to know me physically?" I covered my mouth. "Fuck, sorry. I-"
"No, Em it's okay. This night can go however you want it to go. You can say whatever you want to say to me. Don't worry about anything, okay? I don't get offended easily."
I nodded. "Yeah, okay." I chugged the rest of my drink.
He chuckled. "I don't exactly want you to get out of control Em."
"Oh, it's fine. That should do the trick right?" I stretched my arms above my head, the warmth going through me.
Lafayette Jeff, the man who somehow monopolized pretty much all of America but made it work, sat next to me and talked to me casually. Eventually, I lightened up and started to be myself. I was in a fancy club with the most famous person in the world, who was incredibly attractive, and thought I was cute. It was unreal.
"So why did you invite me to this room?" I asked, buzzed. "Why me out of all these people here?"
"You're cute," he said simply.
"There are plenty of other people who are cuter than me. Real answer."
He shrugged. "I don't know. There was something about you. You're magnetic."
I flattened my lips, not going to refute his answer. "Okay. Perhaps. So what do you want from me then Mr. Jeff?"
He smirked, and then gently held my chin in his fingers. He moved his head closer and put his lips on mine. It had been quite a while since I kissed someone, and this guy kissed pretty damn well. He clearly had a lot of experience. I leaned into him more, his warmth holding me. We made out slowly, our hands roaming each other's bodies. It felt so damn good to be touched again. He also knew what he was doing. When he went to take my shirt off I stopped him.
"Faye," I exhaled.
He chuckled, caught off guard by my pet name. "Yes, Emmy?" he asked.
"I am so not going to have sex with you in this club."
"Hey, I never said anything about sex," he lied.
"Oh please. We all know what your intentions were Faye bae. I will sleep with you but I will not sleep with you in this club." I crossed my arms, leaning against the couch.
"You don't have to sleep with me at all."
"Well..." I wanted him to fuck me though. "I am getting very tired of this club anyway and...want to go somewhere else. Like, some place private. And...sound proof."
He stood up, extending his hand. "Let's go then."
He led me out the back door to a hallway which led to a small garage. We got inside a Cadillac with very tinted black windows. He sped out of the garage like a bat out of hell, opening the sunroof. It was a beautiful summer night and I didn't want it to end. I was in a fancy car with the world's most powerful man. It was unreal. I mean, just the day before I worked an eight hour shift at some crappy warehouse that was going to close down. Then in a few months I would start my senior year at NYU, nervous as always. But here I was, having the time of my life as a careless twenty-one-year-old.
He took me to Lafayette, Inc. HQ. At first I was confused, but after he parked his car in his private garage and we went up the elevator, I learned he actually lived there. We came into a flat that had a bed, living space, kitchenette, and bathroom.
"Where's your office?" I asked. I mean, this was the main office but no office?
"Just through here." He still held my hand as he pulled me through a door to his office with a huge window that showed the beautiful, beautiful New York Skyline. Sunsets, beaches, forests, and all that nature was beautiful. But so was this. The stars were hidden, but that was made up by the hazy, glowing lights of the city. It looked like the lights were floating in the air, the buildings silhouettes.
"Wow," I said. "This is amazing."
"It is. That's why I chose it."
"So, you live here?" I asked.
"Yes. I own a townhouse, but I never go there. I'm always working."
"Yeah, I can tell. But I mean a townhouse seems homier than your flat." I sat on the edge of a table behind a couch.
"It's okay. I mean, it's very nice. Incredibly nice, very expensive. But I just always work."
"Well, on your day off do you go there and like, you know, do normal things?"
He chuckled, sitting next to me. "I never take the day off."
"Never?" I asked. What the fuck.
"Nope. I haven't really had a day off since I started the company. I mean, there are days when I travel which are a bit easier, but I'm still traveling for work and still trying to do as much as I can." He looked at me, and he was only thirty-years-old, but in this lighting I could see the lines on his face. Probably from stress.
"I think you deserve one."
He smiled very faintly. He was a smirker, not a smiler. "No. I have too much to do."
"You're allowed to take a day to yourself, Faye," I said, feeling more sober. "I mean, you can't do everything, and the less you do things for yourself the less you can do."
"Everything I do I do for myself though," he said. "It might not seem like it, it might seem altruistic. But in reality it is for my own benefit."
"I mean, I get it. Aristotle was like 'the function of a human is to fulfill the means of the soul, and to do that you have to strive for happiness, and to be happy you have to be virtuous.' I get it, but giving people things shouldn't be the only thing that makes you happy."
"What makes you happy?" he asked.
I shrugged. "A lot of things really. Good music, good movies, good friends. Napping. I love napping. Writing. Deep conversations. Good sex. My family. Feelings."
"What do you mean by feelings?"
"Well, I'm the type of person who cries a lot and laughs a lot. I think I'm really happy because I'm really empathetic, and so I just appreciate a lot of things. I understand things pretty well. No, I guess I understand people well."
"So what do you think about me?"
"I don't know," I mumbled. "I don't think you're as happy as you can be. You never smile."
"I don't?"
I shook my head. "No. You smirk, but that's about it."
He nodded. "Yeah. I think you're right."
I leaned closer. "Instead of asking what makes you happy, what makes you sad?"
He looked at the floor, that faint smile on his lips again. "A lot of things," he said, whispering. "Almost everything really." He looked up at me, the city lights in his eyes. "I've been sad for as long as I could remember. They say I was born this way."
"Who's they?" I asked.
"My family. The psychologist I visited when I was eight. That's when I was diagnosed with depression."
"When you were eight?"
He nodded. "Yeah. I've been this way all my life. Always high functioning, but never really happy."
I wanted to cry of course, but I knew that wouldn't help. "Well, I mean...everyone always acts like having a mental illness is wrong or abnormal, but in reality I think the majority of people in the world suffer from anxiety or depression or both or something. Like, I have anxiety you know, but literally nothing made me that way. Nothing traumatic has to happen to be depressed. Like, maybe your depression is the most normal thing about you."
To my surprise, he laughed, a genuine smile on his face. "Maybe." He smiled at me more, then leaned in and kissed me. He stood in front of me between my legs, then lifted me up, carrying me to the bedroom. He set me down on the bed and took off his shirt. I didn't know he had so many tattoos, and when he towered over me I traced them with my fingers.
"Wow," I said. "You're beautiful."
He shook his head. "No. You're beautiful, Emerson." He kissed me deeply, me melting into the bed. He really knew what he was doing. He titillated every inch of my skin by moving his hands all over me. Neck kisses, shoulder kisses, chest kisses...he kissed me all over by the time he took all of my clothes off I was so ready. I wanted him so bad.
"You look absolutely beautiful right now, Em," he said. He kissed my ear, biting my lobe, whispering, "I want you to moan as loud as you want." He slid his hand up my shaking thigh. He licked the curve of my ear, retrieving a moan from me. "I want you to say my name." He moved his hand between my legs, up to my mouth. I sucked on two fingers at first, but then put a third one in, much to his surprise. I moistened them up the best I could and he moved them back under me.
He was towering over me and sitting on his knees. As he moved his fingers in me he wrapped his other hand around me. I clutched the bed sheets, my body quivering. He was damn good. Clearly a people pleaser. He removed his fingers and then lifted me up to him, my eyes rolling back as he entered.
"Oh, Faye," I moaned. I hadn't had sex in months, and the last time wasn't good at all. I wanted this so badly.
I was loud during sex, and didn't hold back. My nails dug into his skin and my hips bucked against him. I let him know when I was close. He finished before me and put his fingers back, holding me close. We looked at each other as I grabbed his hair, my body shaking, climaxing. I was already lying down but it felt like I collapsed against the bed. He rested next to me, kissing me gently. I had a few tears from the pure intensity I felt, and he wiped them away with his thumb.
"You're so beautiful," he said.
"You say that to everyone?" I asked, breathing heavily.
"No. I never say it, Em. I never tell people they're beautiful."
"So why are you telling me?"
"Because I have a desire to let you know. I never have this desire to tell people, but for you I do. I like you, Em." He smiled faintly.
"I like you too."
"And I don't like many people. It's not that I dislike or hate a lot of people. I'm very numb to most people. I dislike a few. I don't hate anyone. I only like a few people." He pulled the blanket over us, getting closer.
"Who do you love?" I asked.
"No one."
"What about family?"
"I don't have the most loving family. I did love them at one point, but that faded away. I don't really like them that much as of now. It's a shame, not remembering what love is like. In reality, I might not have loved them that much at all."
"How can you fall in love with someone?"
He chuckled. "Nobody knows the answer to that, Em. Right?"
"Yeah, you're right." I stretched my body, tired. "Why did you pick me up tonight?"
"You're cute."
"No, no, no. Why me? There were a lot of cute people at the club."
He leaned against the pillows, still looking at me. "You just seemed so...happy. You have a magnetic personality it seems. I wanted you to rub that happiness onto me."
I smiled, tiredly. "Did it work?"
He smiled tiredly too. "Yeah, I think it did."
I closed my eyes. "I'm really tired."
"You can stay the night here."
"Will you kick me out in the morning and pretend we never met, or nah?"
"All I want to be is happy, and you helped with that just a little. You might be stuck with me now, Emmy."
I moved into him. "That doesn't seem so bad, Faye. I would like that."
-
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-
Lafayette's Point of View
Emerson was something special. He slept next to me, his long, lanky body sprawled under my covers. He had summer skin, and messy light brown hair. His lips were parted just very slightly, full and very kissable. When he had his eyes open, they were beyond intense. I had never seen eyes with so much life in them. When he looked at me as we had sex, it made me feel something I've never felt. Whatever it was, it felt good, and I wanted more.
It was seven in the morning. It might have been a Saturday, but Michael and Emilio and I still worked. They wouldn't come in until around ten or eleven, but I usually started working at around seven. I looked at Em, who looked so peaceful as he slept. I got up and went to the office. I called Michael, even though he was asleep.
"Hello?" he answered, groggy.
"Michael," I said.
"It's so early, what do you need?"
"Nothing. I just wanted to call to let you know you don't have to come in today."
I could hear him became awake. "What? Why?" he asked, louder.
"We're taking the day off."
"Excuse me? We never take the day off. I mean, at least you don't."
"Exactly. I haven't taken the day off in years, if at all. But I want to today."
He paused. I could hear Emilio ask him something. "Where did you go last night?" he asked.
"I came back to my flat."
"What about that guy?"
"He came with me."
I heard him stand up. "Lafayette, you literally never let anyone see your flat. Not even us. What has gotten into you? You don't hook up with people anymore but all of a sudden you want this guy. Then you take him back to your super-secret hideaway, and now you want to take the day off."
"Yeah."
"Is he still there?"
"Of course," I said. "It's so early, I wouldn't want to kick him out."
"Are you going to kick him out at all? Is that why you want the day off? How good was the sex?"
"Yeah, tell us," Emilio said into the phone.
"I mean, it was really good. Amazing, but I don't just want to have sex with him all day. He's just...really nice. And funny. And sweet."
"Well so am I," Emilio said. "Just call me over."
"I can't have sex with you though."
"True, but like taking the day off and bringing him back is big for you."
"I just...I like him. I really do."
They were quiet, probably looking at each other. They both knew I didn't like that many people. "Well," Emilio said. "Do whatever makes you happy. We'll gladly sleep in."
"Yeah, thanks for waking us up by the way."
"Get some more sleep guys," I said. "I'll talk to you later."
I went back into the flat and actually slept a little longer. I never really slept past nine, but that day I woke up a little before ten. I rolled over to Em and kissed his back. He moved slightly so he was facing me, but still asleep. His lips were still parted, so I leaned up and kissed him. He was one heavy sleeper. I wanted him awake though. I kissed him deeper, moving my hand up his thigh. He moved slightly again, his eyes opening slowly.
He smiled. "Morning," he whispered.
I kissed him again, and he pulled his head away, laughing. "Stop it, my breath probably smells awful."
"It doesn't though. I promise." I went to kiss him again and he put his hand to my lips.
"No way. I am way too hungry to even bother kissing."
"You want to eat before having sex?" I asked.
His jaw dropped. "Whoa, I never said anything about having sex again."
I put my hands up. "Alright, whatever you say."
He laughed, stretching his long, beautiful body. He sat up and then crawled on top of me, straddling my hips. He kissed me, arms over my shoulders. When he kissed me, it was different. He was so...intimate. He kissed me as if he knew me, as if he liked me. It's what I needed.
We had sex again. Intimate sex. It wasn't making love, but it was better than just casual hook ups. I felt...liked. It was unique. Sure, people admired me and fanned over me, but he seemed to actually, genuinely like me. After, he lied on top of me, drawing circles on me with his fingers.
"So how often do you hook up with people?" he asked.
"Not often. I used to a lot, back when I was newly famous," I said. "What about you?"
"Oh not that much at all. I haven't had sex in months. I mean, I'm only twenty-one, so-"
"You're only twenty-one?" He was youthful, but still had an air of knowing, maturity.
"Yeah, I turn twenty-two soon, but anyway. I haven't had sex that much and none of the times I have have actually been that good. Like, I hate to build your ego, but you're pretty good. Probably...the best. But obviously you've had plenty of experience, so..."
"You're really good too."
He snorted. "I'm a bottom bitch, I don't have to put that much effort in."
"You do when you ride me. Plus, I never really do it face to face."
"I never really do it face to face. Not ever actually. So I don't know. It was nice."
"Well, when I've done it with eye contact, it's never been as...fulfilling as with you."
"What do you mean?" he asked, his lips formed into a small "o" in curiosity.
"You have a very expressive face, Emerson. And your eyes are very intense. They're very beautiful, and when you look at me it's really genuine and nice. You like looking at me."
"Well yeah, you're hot."
I chuckled. He made me laugh more than anyone ever has in my entire life. Fact. "No, that's the whole opposite of the point. I mean when you look at me, you actually see me. You aren't just looking at me lustfully or anything."
"Well why would I do that? Do people do that?"
I gently grazed my fingers along his cheek. "Yeah. A lot of people. People who are afraid to get close or simply don't want to."
He looked down, tracing the tattoo on my chest. "So, are you afraid of getting close?"
"Terrified," I said.
He glanced at me, his expressive eyes showing rejection.
"But who isn't afraid of getting close?"
He shrugged. "Me. I mean, what's scary about it?"
I smiled at him, running my fingers through his hair. He was so cute. "Well, for you I suppose nothing. But you're obviously not a coward like me."
He paused and then sat up. "So, when are you going to kick me out?"
I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around him. "Oh not any time soon. I took the day off for you."
"But you never take the day off, Faye baby."
"I did today."
He snorted. "Yeah, on a Saturday. Big deal."
"I always work on Saturdays. And Sundays. Always. But, you're right. I should take time for myself."
He sat back down on me. "So, if you want time for yourself, then you should kick me out."
"But then who would I have sex with?"
His jaw dropped again. "Excuse me. I am not a sex machine."
"But why not? Sex is great. Sex with you is great. I could have sex with you again right here."
"I'm too hungry."
"Here." I grabbed my wallet off the side table and handed him my card. "Order whatever you want."
He looked at the card. "Are you crazy?"
"That only has a few thousand on it. Not a big deal."
"Wow. How privileged."
"I'll spoil you today. If you want, we can go to my dress store and you can have whatever clothing you want."
He looked at me for a few seconds. "You are crazy."
"Nonsense," I said. "Come on. I'm being serious. I'll buy you a nice new outfit, something cute, and then I can take you to the best places for lunch."
"Anywhere?"
"Anywhere."
"Okay. The restaurant in the Eiffel Tower."
"Do you have a passport?"
He laughed. "What is wrong with you?" he asked. His smile faded. "You don't have to buy me things to keep me around to have sex. You're not...gonna be my sugar daddy or anything."
"No, no, Em that's not it," I said. "I like you, and even if we didn't have sex ever then I would still want to keep you around."
"Well, you don't have to buy me things to keep me around in general."
"I know." I laughed. "I...I really do know that, and I know you wouldn't take advantage of my money. Hence one reason why I'm being very giving."
He smiled and looked at the card again. "I would just feel bad."
"Please, don't. I want to give you things. You're so beautiful, I want to give you a matching outfit. Then I'm just hungry and don't want to eat alone."
"Well, you could always eat my ass," he said.
"Gladly." I grabbed his legs and flipped him onto his back, making him scream and laugh. I kissed his thighs.
"Oh Faye, fuck. I can't. I don't have as much stamina as you."
I sat up and crawled over him, kissing him. "I hate it when people call me Faye, but I really do like it when you call me it."
"I like it when you call me Emmy," he said.
I kissed him again. Then we got dressed for the day. I let him borrow a shirt of mine, a white button down. It was loose on him and he left the first few buttons undone because it was hot outside. I rolled his sleeves up for him and then let him borrow a pair of my sunglasses. We went back to my garage and I drove us on my motorcycle. It was a beautiful day, perfect for motorcycles.
We arrived at the shop where Marion was with Carla.
"Emerson," she greeted. "It's so good to see you."
"Yeah, cool to see you too," he said, blushing.
"Marion," I said. "This is Emerson and he is in need of something appropriate for the weather. Something a little more feminine too. Something nautical. Will you show him?"
"Of course, my favorite thing to do. Right this way Emerson."
When the two left, Carla sat next to me on the couch. "I can see you've taken a liking to him."
"He's a very nice person. I like having him around," I said.
"So, you're gonna date him?" She arched an eyebrow at me.
"Oh, I wouldn't call it that."
"So you're...his sugar daddy?"
"No, not at all."
"So you're...going to remain in a sexual relationship and then one day get married."
I smirked, looking down. "No, he would leave before that."
"Well, he doesn't have to."
I sighed. "I know Carla."
"It's okay. Don't be afraid."
I nodded. We chit chatted for awhile until Em came back out. He was wearing navy blue shorts that were loose around his skinny legs and stopped a little above the middle of his thigh. They had tiny anchors on the side. Then he was wearing a white shirt with three-quarter sleeves and a deep v-neck, very thin, tucked into the shorts. He also had on light brown boat shoes. He looked great. Beautiful.
"Perfect," I said. "Thank you Marion, just put it on my account."
"Thank you, Mr. Jeff. Have a nice day."
I drove Emmy to the docks where my boat was. We hopped on and sailed far out, the skyline of New York City our view for lunch.
"This is really nice," he said. He was leaning against the side of the boat. When he wasn't looking, I took a photo of him. He looked like a model.
"You look really great," I said. When he turned to look at me with his big smile, I took another picture. When he acted bashful, I took another.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"You look stunning."
He rolled his eyes and sat next to me on the large chair that was essentially a bed, but not comfortable. "I read this article that said you didn't carry a cell phone."
"That was published a few years ago. I'm finally up to date on things." I took the first and last photo and put them next to each in Layout, and then I posted it to Instagram saying "A beautiful day for sailing!"
"Do you have an Instagram?" I asked.
"Yeah. My username is EmLane95. Why?" He looked at my phone as I tagged him.
He screamed. "What are you doing? Oh my god!"
"What? I never post enough. My friend forced me to get one." I shrugged.
"Oh my god." He looked at his phone. "My phone is blowing up."
"Turn it off. I'll turn mine off."
We put our phones away. For lunch, we went into my kitchenette. Since it was summer, it was actually stocked with food. We ate on the bow and looked at the beautiful, perfect summer day.
"Thank you, Faye," he said. "This is all really nice."
"Well, you're nice," I said.
He smiled softly, looking at his hands. "So, what happens after this?"
"I don't know. We can go back to my place."
"No. I mean, what happens once we depart ways? Are you going to talk to me, or...?"
I paused, looking at him. He looked magnificent, and I loved the way I felt when I looked at him. He was magnetic for a reason. I smiled softly too, grabbing his hand. "I really like you, and if you would agree, I would like to take you out to dinner on a date this Friday night."
He squeezed my hand and smiled. "Okay, Faye."
I kissed him, and I kissed him for the rest of my life too.
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Tah-dah! I hope you all enjoyed that. I think I fleshed out Faye and Emmy in this chapter more than I have in this entire book.
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