Page 9 of Out of Office
“What do you want? Fast, don’t think,” Gino urged me.
“I want to go with him. But it’s not that simple. I mean, do I just play to the friendship, or do I do...more,” I whispered but damn, did it feel right saying it. Gino had a way of holding me to the fire, but never dropping me into the coals, that worked every time. He was a sorcerer, my best friend.
“Girl, what are we, back in high school? Just go with the flow,” Gino said, reiterating what I already knew.
“You’re right but...but I just feel so...so...”
“Listen, Gen. You’ve lived your entire adult life following a script, and you have done a fucking amazing job at excelling. You know I’m super proud of you. But at some point, you’re gonna have to assess if the script in front of you is what you still want and need. And not let your momma dictate every single step,” Gino said, and my pulse hopscotched at his words. Words of denial immediately rushed forward, the same assurances I repeated to myself daily.
I’m happy, I want this. Life like this is enough.
“Nah, don’t say anything. I know you’re gonna defend Mama Raymond, and we’re not going there today. Just think about it. I have to run. He’s here. Make sure you text me what you decide, okay?” Gino said, ending the call before I could say goodbye.
I gently closed the laptop screen and went to my room. In there, all the luggage sat awaiting my next move. I’d been prepared to rent a vehicle, but now, with Adrián’s offer, it made sense to cancel it. A blast of adrenaline and joy hit me at the decision as I hung up with the rental company.
The next step was easy. Without hesitation, I pressed a few buttons, and Adrián’s voice greeted me after two rings.
“Genevieve.” The way he said my name... His slight Panamanian accent made it sound like it existed to be pronounced in a mix of Spanglish. A ball of nervous tension formed in my stomach, making it hard to speak, and I shifted on my feet.
“Uh, hey. Hey. Well, hey.”
My God. Was that really the best I could do? I needed immediate aid. The hot girl that flirted with Adrián was nowhere to be found, and all that remained was the same old Gen. The overworked, undersexed, and in dire need of attention, Gen. The rush of adrenaline and good warmth feeling I got earlier—I wanted that back.
When was the last time I’d felt so present, so alive?
A warm chuckle filtered through the phone, and I wanted to die of mortification. He was probably going to rescind the invitation after realizing all my confidence stemmed from my work and success.
“I’m nervous too. I’ve never done something like this before. I get it. Listen, if it’s not—”
“No, it’s good. I’m going. Choice three, it’s choice three.” I blurted out, interrupting Adrián.
There was a pause, then a sigh of relief. Giddiness hit me in the chest; better than sleeping in on a Monday morning.
“I don’t know what choice three means, but if it gets you to come with me, I approve.”
I wouldn’t melt; I would not melt.
“Okay, so what next?”
“Next is I come pick you up in an hour, and we make our way to Colón.”
“Okay...okay, see you soon,” I said, and it came out like a whisper.
“See you, Genevieve.” Adrián practically purred my name on the phone and I had to hold on to one of the chairs in the dining room to keep straight.
New sex tank, here I come.
Well, this was a rocky start. I had met Adrián downstairs with my luggage and a smile, feeling featherlight and full of excitement.
He’d come out of the car to greet me, gotten my luggage in the trunk, and opened the front passenger door like the gentleman he was. I appreciated the confirmation that his attentiveness went beyond work. As soon as we boarded his old SUV, we were on our way.
“Sorry, I know you’re used to the new fleet. This one is mine, a little old but very reliable,” he explained. I nodded along with a grin, but words refused to come out.
I’d never been this nervous around a man before, at least not since junior high, but something about Adrián in his casual clothes with full aura trained on me made me forget how to use words.
Somehow in this smaller vehicle, Adrián’s presence appeared even grander. More present. Enticing. I trailed over his thick thighs as he maneuvered the pedals. It was easy to admire his large golden-brown hands with the thick veins traversing the backs of his palms.
What could those hands do? And the size of his fingers, the visions they brought. One of those hands, gliding over my thigh, between my legs, to find the evidence of my body’s response. One thick, long finger finding me dripping and—suddenly, I felt parched. I wasn’t a small woman, not with these wide hips and lush thighs that refused to surrender to the hundred squats on leg day, but Adrián made me feel soft. Precious.