Sensual Secrets

Or was that just an excuse? Either way, she wasn’t going home. Not yet. She headed down Bleeker Street, toward Washington Square and the café. Would he be there? Her heart raced at the thought. Just like it always did.

Her crush on him was ridiculous, she knew that. But it was also the only thing in her life she was truly passionate about. Except for her studies, of course, but that was a totally different kind of passion. Jay made her skin tingle, her stomach clench. She’d read a word somewhere, limerance. It meant that state of deep, addictive infatuation that happens when someone falls in love. She was absolutely there. Unequivocally. Shamefully.

Unfortunately, the man she was in limerance with didn’t know her name. Thought she was a joke. And yet, as she neared the café, her pace quickened along with her pulse. She said her “Jay mantra.” Please, oh, please.

Once she was at the door, she hesitated. Pushed her hair back, moistened her lips. Then she remembered how he’d almost touched her. Perhaps if he’d had a reason? She loosened a strand of hair by her cheek.

She walked in, instantly certain he wasn’t there. The air was just air. Brian was at the bar, joystick in hand, making shooting noises as he destroyed enemy ships or some such. What an odd fellow he was. One would never guess his true age. He spoke like a teenager and played teenage games. On the other hand, he owned the café—and from what she could tell, it was a very successful venture. Two people were at computer terminals—the girl she’d seen before and a new guy. Young. A freshman, probably. They didn’t look at her.

She walked over to her favorite workstation, but before she booted up, she took a couple of deep, calming breaths. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t here. Why should it? Even if he were, so what? He was out of her league, and she was out of her mind.

Her aunt Grace had told her many times that her imagination was going to be the death of her. She shouldn’t waste her time on daydreams. On wanting what she couldn’t have. Aunt Grace might be a little extreme in her attitudes, but she had a point about the woes of an active imagination.

All of Amelia’s problems were a direct result of wanting more than she could have. On the other hand, her aunt had been certain Amelia would never get accepted into the graduate program, or get financial aid. It had shocked them both when she’d won the fellowship. Full tuition, including books. It had been a miracle.

So who was to say there couldn’t be a miracle here? Right?

She turned on the computer and logged in. She typed in the URL for TrueConfessions.com, and went directly to her journal entries.

What if I dropped something? And he picked it up? And our fingers touched. Sparks, electricity. Magic. Our eyes would meet and he’d smile, but not his regular smile. This one would hold surprise, would ask a question. I’d smile back in answer. Yes. My interest is real. Then he’d ask me my name. Sit at the edge of the table. See me. Not the blush, not the fear, but me. The part of me that is desire. That is passion. He’d touch my cheek and the caress would last, and it would stoke the flames inside us both. He’d lean over. Kiss me gently on the lips.

The front door opened, and her heart leapt. Only, it was the other guy from the motorcycle shop. The one with the glasses.

She sighed, already feeling the foolishness of her fantasy. The loneliness.

Maybe I could say hello. That’s all. Just hello. Would that be so earth shattering? Would the heavens fall and the oceans rise if I just said a simple hello?

Amelia stopped her fingers, stopped her thoughts, too. She didn’t want to wallow in self-pity. Nothing bothered her more, and yet she found herself going there with alarming frequency. Again, it was clear that her problems were about expectations. Dreams that were too big for her little life. Quiet desperation.

No. That wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted serenity. Satisfaction. Passion. Romance. Sex. Lots of sex. Mind-blowing sex.

She focused on the computer monitor once more.

I can’t stop thinking about it. About making love. It’s as if I have a compulsion, an illness, and the only medicine is two rounds with J. and plenty of water.

She smiled at that. Two rounds with Jay. When she couldn’t even write out his name. What’s wrong with this picture?

Maybe I’d be better off cutting my association with this place. If I never saw him, I’d forget about him. Maybe even become interested in someone else.

I could go out with the girls. They always invite me to their sorority parties, and I never say yes. That’s it, of course. I’m going to go. I’m going to take a risk and see what happens. Who knows? It might turn out to be fun.

The line about the monkeys and her posterior came up again, only, this time it wasn’t quite so amusing.

Why can’t I get over this crippling shyness? What lesson am I supposed to learn, huh? To be brave? How can I be brave when I feel like I’m going to pass out? I hate this. I want to be someone else, anyone else. Donna or Kathy or Tabby. They all lead such exciting, wonderful lives. No wonder they leave the dishes for me. What else have I got to do?

She frowned. Not exactly her best attempt at cheering herself up. Before she could make things worse, she saved her work and logged off from the Web site. With forty minutes still to go on her time, she debated working on her paper, but decided instead to do something more uplifting. She typed in the address for her favorite online bookstore, and lost herself in page after page of book descriptions, knowing she could only buy one. She’d narrowed her selection down to three, when a shadow darkened her monitor.

Expecting Brian, she turned to find him standing not a foot away. Her heart slammed into her chest and she nearly pulled the mouse out of the computer.

“Did you drop this?”

She blinked.

“Miss…?”

Speak, dammit. Say something. Anything. “Edwards.”

He smiled. Oh God. He smiled in a way he’d never smiled before. Sweet. Sexy. Her fantasy come to life.

“Did you drop this?”

She forced her gaze from his face to his hand. He held a ballpoint pen out to her. It was white with a blue cap, and she’d never seen it before. “No.”

“Oh. I thought maybe you had.”

She shook her head. “I don’t have a pen like that.”

His head tipped slightly to the side. “Would you like to?”

“Like to what?”

His grin broadened. “Have this pen?”

She blinked again.

He laughed. A lovely, rich sound that stirred something deep inside. It wasn’t derisive at all. In fact, if she hadn’t known better, she’d swear it sounded as if he found her…charming.

She reached out for the pen, her hand only trembling a bit, and when she touched it, his hand moved, brushing against hers, exactly as she’d imagined it a few minutes ago. Was she psychic? She’d never had a precognitive notion before in her life, but this…this was spooky.

“I’m Jay. Jay Wagner.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

She shouldn’t have said that. Oh dear.

“And how do you know my name, Miss Edwards?”

“I’ve, uh, seen you in here. With Brian.”

“Is that all? And here I was hoping you’d done a little digging.”

“Me?”

He nodded.

“You must have noticed how I look for you every time I come in here.”