Chapter Three:
Where did all of these people come from? Robin wondered as she was smashed up against Patrick in the elevator along with four other couples-all of whom were making out in a very forward way. One of the couples broke for air and looked at them.
"Sorry, but we just can't keep our hands off of each other," the woman said as her significant other continued to molest her. "You know how it is."
Patrick smiled. "Actually I don't. My girlfriend here is really frigid, she doesn't believe in showing her appreciation for what she has."
Robin rolled her eyes. "My boyfriend here just doesn't know how to handle a feisty female. I'm working on getting him some love lessons."
Patrick laughed. "Right, love lessons, from who?"
"Anyone with a brain would know how to do everything better than you," she said and stared up at him.
"If you ever let me do anything to you, you would see I know just what to do and how to do it. I could do things to you that would leave you begging for more," he said, oblivious to the fact that the elevator was stopped and the other couples were staring at them.
Her eyes were flaming as she looked at him. "Right, because once again it's all about you. Maybe a woman doesn't want things to be just done to her, perhaps she likes things to be equal, you know, mutual pleasure."
"I know all about mutual pleasure, sweetie. All about it," he said and realized suddenly that they were being watched. He and Robin turned and saw all four couples staring at them.
"I'm getting hot just watching you guys." One of the women said.
"This is the best foreplay I have had," a man said.
"Did you guys plan this? I love role playing and you guys are so real, I almost believed it." The first couple said. "How long have you two been together."
Robin cleared her throat, incredibly embarrassed. She also realized she didn't even know his name. "Feels like we just met."
Patrick shifted. "Yeah, just met," he was getting increasingly uncomfortable and he realized the close proximity of her body and his hand against her soft skin was making him aroused. He needed to get away from her now.
"Well thanks for giving us a great start to our new year," one man said as the elevator came to a stop. The other couples became lost in each other again.
"Happy to help." Robin said and the elevator lurched and she fell back against Patrick. Oh God, was that what she though it was?
Patrick began to panic. There was no way she didn't feel that and he wondered if this night was even real.
"What was that? Are we stuck?" One of the women said.
Oh, for the love of everything holy, please don't let us be stuck, Patrick thought to himself. "I'll hit the button again," he moved his hand, forgetting for a moment it was stuck to Robin and they both heard the sound of tearing fabric. "Shit," he said.
"What are you doing?" she hissed.
"I forgot," he muttered to her. "Sorry."
She looked at the other couples and went to say something when the elevator lurched again and they all jumped. The doors opened and everyone got out, Patrick and Robin the last ones. The couples headed to their rooms and Robin turned to look at him. "Don't say a word," she said. "Which room is yours?"
He was silent and she flamed at him. "Which room is it?"
"You told me not to say a word," he said.
"Ugh, I can't believe this. I can't believe any of this is happening," she ranted.
"Look, I appreciate your disgust, but until you can move away from me, can you refrain from screeching in that voice? I have a headache," he said and rubbed his temple with his free hand.
"Oh, sorry, maybe I can make it better, but wait, probably not, because I'm so frigid," she said.
He smiled. "What was I supposed to say?"
"I can think of a hundred different responses to their question. How about we are private, or we are waiting to get to the room or we are being romantic or I am trying to keep my composure, and touching her would drive me crazy. Anything would have been better than my girlfriend is frigid," she huffed.
"Seemed like an accurate response," he said and stared back at her.
"Ugh," she turned. "Which room?"
"We aren't on this floor," he said.
He seriously didn't say that. He did not just say that. She turned to look at him. "What?"
"Well the elevator was having trouble, I didn't think we should stay on it. We can catch the other one," he said.
"Fine, whatever," she said and turned to push the button when she almost tripped. He held her to him and she steadied herself.
"Are you okay?" He asked her, concern on his face.
"I just tripped," she said.
"It looked like you got dizzy."
"I'm fine. I think I hit my head when you body slammed me. I just need to sit down and relax," she sighed.
"I didn't body slam you, I fell. I feel badly enough about it, you know," he said as he touched her head.
"I'm sorry. I know you do," she realized he was touching her hair. "What are you doing to my head?" She pulled her head away from him.
"I'm checking for a bump," he said and when she stared at him he sighed. "I'm a neurosurgeon."
She laughed. "Sure you are, and if I had hit my foot you would be a podiatrist, right?"
He stared at her. "You are a real piece of work. Why are you working so hard to repel me?"
She exhaled, knowing she was being nasty. He was right, but she wasn't about to admit it. "I just want to get to the room and end this nightmare." They both looked up as the elevator opened and he helped her on.
"I'm right there with you," he said and pushed the floor button about five times.
"Once is fine," she said.
"Sometimes we all need an extra push," he flashed his dimples at her and she couldn't help it, she smiled and shook her head.
Chapter Four:
"I didn't think it could possibly take so damn long to get to a freaking hotel room," Robin exclaimed as they made their way down the hallway to the door.
"I'm used to women racing to get me into a hotel room," Patrick said, his eyes twinkling.
"Ugh, you are such a pig," she said.
"I don't see you denying it," he grinned, trying to act like a jerk so she would stop affecting his body in ways that were not welcome.
"If I could get away from you, I would," she said.
"You can move anytime you want," he said.
"Just open the door," she said as they arrived at the room.
He realized the key was in his back pocket and the only way to reach it was with the hand that was holding her dress together.
"What is your problem?" Robin asked him.
"I can't reach it. It's in my back pocket," he said.
"Fine, I'll get it," she went to reach and he moved.
"Hey, just a minute," he said.
"What is wrong?" She was exasperated.
"You can't just stick your hand in a man's pocket. There are rules."
She glared at him. "If you don't get this door open in the next ten seconds, you will no longer be a man."
He nodded. "Right, back left pocket."
She reached around and stuck her hand in his pocket, pulling out the key card. She tried to ignore the feel of his hard buttock under his pants and just slipped the card into the door slot and pushed it open. They walked in and he closed the door.
"Thank God," he said and went to move his hand.
"Wait," she yelled.
"I knew you wanted to stay close to me," he leaned in to her and she put her hand on his head, stopping him.
"Just take your watch off and I will go into the bathroom and fix myself," she said. "I would like to not rip any more of this dress if possible."
He shook his head and reached his other hand over to try and unclasp his watch.
"What is taking so long?" She was having trouble concentrating with both of his hands near her skin. God he was handsome.
"I just can't get it. Stop squirming," he said.
"Let me do it," she said and moved to unclasp the band. She got it and he pulled his hand out, finally releasing their hold. She went into the bathroom and slammed the door.
Patrick exhaled and walked to the little fridge in the room, taking out a small bottle of alcohol and pouring it over ice. He was so mixed up inside, the feelings he was having for this woman were completely ridiculous and out of the blue. He knew nothing about her and what irritated him the most was that he found he wanted to know more. He pulled his shirt out of his pants and unbuttoned the top buttons. He sat down at the small desk in the room and took a drink. What the hell was he doing?
Robin took her dress off in the bathroom and stood there in her bra and panties. She looked at the material and saw just how tangled his watch was in the fabric. She worked on getting it out and finally had success. She looked at the dress and saw it was likely a lost cause. The dress was ripped almost all the way up the side. She couldn't put it back on and she didn't know what to do. Was there a bathrobe in the room? She could put that on. She just needed to get it. It was probably in the closet. She took a deep breath and cracked the door open. "Can you give me the robe?"
He looked up and smiled. "What?"
Ugh, he was impossible. "I don't have anything to wear. I need the robe and I can't walk out in my underwear," she said evenly.
"Why not? I don't mind," he said simply.
"Fine, whatever," she took a deep breath and held the ripped dress in front of her as she walked out of the bathroom and glared at him before moving to the closet and grabbing the bathrobe. She went back in to the bathroom and slammed the door.
Patrick was speechless. She had the most gorgeous body; tanned and smooth, and her black lace underwear made his head swim with thoughts of, well, everything. She had her chest covered, so he didn't get a good look, but when she turned to the side, he saw her profile and he felt his whole body react. He took his drink and swallowed a large gulp.
Why did he have to get half undressed? Robin thought to herself as she sat on the closed toilet seat. Okay, he wasn't half undressed, but his shirt was out of his pants and he had unbuttoned the top few buttons so his skin was peeking out. She wondered what his chest looked like, or felt like, or tasted like. She about jumped out of her skin when he knocked on the door.
"Can you come out, I need to use the bathroom," he said.
She didn't say anything and he knocked again. "You can't stay in the bathroom all night."
She was still silent.
"I have to go," he repeated and was about to knock on the door again when she flung it open and glared at him, the bathrobe wrapped tightly around her, her dress in her arms.
"Don't have a panic attack because you have to pee," she said and walked past him.
He glared back at her and walked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
Robin sat down on the bed and put her dress next to her. She had to get out of here and go home, but she didn't drive and now she had no clothes. Damn Lanie for making her come out tonight. She was perfectly content at home. She looked up as he walked out of the bathroom and went to sit next to her on the bed.
"What are you doing?" She asked.
"Sitting on the bed in my room and turning on the television," he said.
"But I'm on the bed," she said emphatically.
"So what? Do you want a ribbon?" He didn't get her.
"What's your name?" She asked him.
He smiled. "What do you think it is?"
"Dick?" She said without missing a beat.
He laughed. "You wish."
"Ugh, I can't believe this. I need to get some clothes and get out of here," she stood up and he smiled. "What?" She barked at him.
"Nothing, just wondering where you think you're going to get clothes tonight," he said and turned on the TV.
She was quiet. "Fine. This is a nice hotel, there must be a gift shop."
"It's New Years Eve. It's closed."
"Fine. There must be a sewing kit here. I'll sew my dress and then call a cab," she began going through the drawers in the room.
He picked up her dress. "I think this needs more than a needle and thread."
"Who are you, Martha Stewart?" She asked and slammed the dresser drawer shut in frustration, catching her finger inside. "Ow, Shit!" She yelled and tears pricked her eyes.
"Are you okay?" He asked her, his concern not forced at all.
She walked to the chair and sat down, holding her hand in her lap. "I'm fine."
"Let me see. I told you I was a doctor," he walked over to her.
"You said you were a neurosurgeon," she said, trying to control her emotions.
"I am, but I can still look," he said.
"I'm a doctor, too. I can handle it," she said.
"Well you must be in research," he stated.
She stood up and crossed her arms. "Why do you say that?"
"Am I wrong?"
"Tell me why you said that."
"Because you have been nothing but nasty since we met. I figure you must not have a lot of contact with people because you might have a modicum of personality if you actually saw patients," he said.
She blinked and her tears spilled over her cheeks. The reality of his words cut her deeply and she was ashamed. She was also mortified and embarrassed and tired and her hand and head hurt. The tears were a result of all of that.
Patrick felt terrible. "Hey, I'm sorry. Sometimes I don't think. I didn't mean to make you cry."
She wiped her face. "Don't act so concerned. It's not like I'm anyone worth getting to know. Apparently I'm a bitch."
"I didn't say that," he walked closer and stood facing her. "You just seem to have a wall the size of Mount Everest build around you."
She looked up into his eyes and her heart skipped. "I'm sorry."
"I'm Patrick," he said and held out his hand.
She sniffed and took his hand in hers. "Hi Patrick."
He couldn't deny it. If ever he thought there would be sparks, it happened. There wasn't just a spark when they touched; there were fireworks. He looked into her eyes and tried to gauge if she felt the same thing.