I knew I was in trouble when the kissing started. Up to that point, I had been so good about keeping my hands off of Eric even though there were many times I wanted to jump on him. But I knew I couldn't. He was recovering from surgery, lying there helpless. It would be like shooting fish in a barrel.
Plus, there was always the nagging reminder in the back of my head that Eric had chosen not to ask me out when he'd had the opportunity. I was dating Sam now, I kept telling myself. Sam asked me out. Eric didn't.
And yet, when Eric asked for a kiss in the dark, what could I do? I doubt if there is a woman on the planet who could have said no to that request.
The kiss was nothing like the passionate moment at the bathroom sink at Knott's or the stolen naughtiness that I was trying to forget ever happened at Universal. It was sweet. It was romantic. It was intimate.
I knew nothing sexual would happen, so there was no pressure at all. It was just kissing. Oh, okay, and a little boob-squeezing, but really, that was it.
And then, he got his pain pill and I watched him fall back to sleep. Selfishly, I was enjoying his dependence on me. It felt good to be needed even if it was just to administer pain relief. No matter what had transpired before between me and Eric, I felt something …I don't know …something real for him now. Maybe the circumstances of our new intimacy were manufactured, but I knew my feelings were genuine.
And I also knew I felt nothing like this for Sam.
Eric had told me he was jealous of my dating Sam. He said it made him sick even. At first I was mad that Eric told me that—he never asked me out and Sam did. What was I supposed to do? But then a part of me was kind of glad to hear Eric was jealous. I was flattered because that meant he had feelings for me which I hadn't expected.
I reached over and took his hand and fell asleep to the comforting sound of his steady breathing.
The following day was more of the same. Poor Eric slept a lot of the time—when his meds were working. But I knew things would change that night because that's when we'd change from Vicodin to Tylenol, and I suspected that might be a tough transition.
During the afternoon, I spent some time by the pool and called Sam to let him know I'd need some more time off—I wasn't sure how much. I wanted to tell him I couldn't go out with him again, but knew that should be done in person.
Even if I never saw Eric again after this strange time together, I still couldn't go back to dating Sam. It just wouldn't feel right. Sam was a great guy and stringing him along knowing how I felt about Eric would be wrong. But that conversation would have to wait.
When I got back to the room, Eric was sleeping on his side in the center of the bed. I climbed up onto the bed and lay down facing him, and he opened his eyes.
"How was the pool?" he asked.
"Great. It's a beautiful day. You're on your side."
"Yeah, I was getting so tired of being on my back, and this isn't bad on this side. I can't do the other one though."
"That's good though. I'd say that means progress."
"I'm so sick of this though. And I can only imagine how sick of it you must be."
"No, not at all, Eric. I don't mind, really." He looked discouraged, frustrated. "You know, you can take a shower today. Do you feel up to that?"
"Yeah. Actually, that would feel great."
I helped him sit up and he pulled his clothes off down to his boxers and went into the bathroom. I put his clothes into the little laundry section of his suitcase and found some clean boxers and another t-shirt, but there weren't any more sweatpants.
I heard the water come on and then Eric called my name.
I went to him, dropping the clothes on the bed on the way and opened the bathroom door. Eric was sitting on the edge of the tub naked with a guilty little smile on his face.
"I'm a little dizzy," he said.
"Do you want to go back to bed?"
"No. Would you mind helping me—just to make sure I don't fall over and crack my head open or something?"
"Sure. No problem."
Fortunately, I was still in my bathing suit, so I just opened the shower door and held my hand out to help Eric inside. I was very careful not to look down as he stood, but it was very hard. He was very naked.
Once we were in the shower, I just kind of held onto his elbow or just above his waist while he washed his hair and then soaped himself up. When his head was back under the spray of the water and his eyes were closed, I stole a peek in a southward direction. Who could blame a girl? He was perfect.
When I looked back up, he was grinning at me.
I'm sure I turned all shades of red, but hopefully saved the moment when I said, "Your incisions look fine," like a good little nurse-like one who wasn't getting her own jollies by ogling her helpless patient.
"Thanks for checking," he said very seriously.
When he was all done, I turned the water off and helped him out of the shower stall. He sat on the tub again while I got him a towel and then one for myself. Once I was dry except for the bathing suit, of course, I hung my towel on the hook beside the shower and went to take Eric's towel from him. He handed me the towel, but then took my hand and pulled me towards him.
My heart raced and I hoped he didn't notice my breathing speeding up a bit as I stood a little too close to a very beautiful and very naked Eric. His attentions were no longer on bathing himself, but just on me. He looked up into my eyes and said, "Thank you," and then kissed me just below my bathing suit top and above my stomach and then nuzzled between my breasts.
I was feeling a little dizzy myself and dropped the towel so I could reach over and steady myself on the sink counter just beside us. I pressed his head into me with my other hand and threaded my fingers through his wet hair, watching him with fascination.
He looked up at me with half-closed eyes and a sweet smile and I said, "We need to get you back into bed."
I helped him stand and walked him to the bed where he sat down and started to put his boxers and t-shirt on.
"I couldn't find any more comfortable pants for you," I said.
"Yeah, I only brought the one pair."
"I'm pretty much out of clean clothes myself. Fortunately, I packed too much for a weekend, but well, it's not really enough for this …for …how long we might be here."
"Oh, yeah, I hadn't even thought of that. Just take my wallet—actually, take my ATM card and get some more cash and get whatever you need. And some more pants for me, and maybe another t-shirt."
"You don't have to do that."
"Don't be silly. It's nothing. It's the least I could do. Or, you could just wear that bikini all day every day," he added with a smirk.
"I'll find something downstairs," I said, blushing like a school girl.
I dressed quickly in the bathroom and headed downstairs to shop for us.
There were so many funny t-shirts with silly Vegas slogans on them: What happens in Vegas doesn't always stay in Vegas. My husband went to Las Vegas and all I got was this lousy t-shirt and herpes. Welcome to the casino-the bar's up front and poker in the rear. Well … there were a lot of them.
I settled on matching and much classier versions just with The Venetian on them for both of us. I also got Eric some sweatpants and I got myself several pairs of panties, not knowing exactly how many more days I'd be here.
Then, I picked up our dinner and went upstairs to Eric.
I got us set up to eat on the bed and showed him his new t-shirt.
"That's a good one," he said as he started eating. "I have to admit, I was a little worried I might get something I couldn't wear in public."
I started giggling, thinking of the naughty ones I'd seen. "There were some very funny ones, but I can't repeat what they said." I was probably several shades of red thinking of the one that mentioned poker in the rear.
Eric laughed at first, but then stopped eating and looked at me a little more seriously. I wondered if I had something between my teeth.
"What is it?" I asked.
He kind of shook his head. "You. You're just so … I don't know. I can't figure you out. Sometimes you seem so innocent, so naïve—and then, well, I remember … well, that you're not."
I was instantly mortified, thinking, of course, about what had happened behind the Terminator ride and I looked down at my plate, suddenly no longer hungry. There was an awkward silence.
I finally said, "I know, and I'm sorry about that." I'd been trying to forget it ever since it had happened.
"You are?" he asked, and stopped eating as well.
"Well, yeah. That's really not … like me."
"I know. That's what I thought. You seem so … you know, sweet and …well, innocent, like I said."
"Well, I guess I'm not anymore, am I? But you know what-I can promise you that that will never happen again. I feel really horrible about it. Ashamed."
"Really?"
"Yeah, really."
"God, Sookie, if you're serious … then, that changes everything."
I looked up at him, puzzled. "It does?"
"Yes. I mean, it does for me. I was so crazy about you until …until … I discovered … you know. Believe me, it was a shock to me and the only reason I didn't ask you out."
I looked down again, not sure what to say. I was still so incredibly embarrassed.
He went on, "I guess that probably didn't surprise you though. I would imagine it's kind of universal that most guys can't handle that sort of thing."
I wanted to crawl under the covers. We were talking about the one and only time I'd ever gone down on a man. Most guys can't handle that sort of thing? I thought all guys liked blowjobs.
"You know what, Eric, I have absolutely no idea what guys think. Not a clue."
I felt Eric's eyes on me and wished I could disappear.
"I'm sorry," he said. "Talking about this is obviously making you uncomfortable."
"Yes," I said emphatically.
"I just want you to know it makes me very happy to hear you say it won't happen again."
Good lord, I thought-I will never understand men. I thought they wanted women to suck their penises.
I excused myself and went into the bathroom, wishing I could just walk out the door and go home to L.A.
But of course, I couldn't. When I came out of the bathroom, I tidied up the room while Eric finished eating and then I set our trash outside in the hallway for the cleaning service to pick up.
Eric found a movie on TV and I climbed up onto the bed to watch it with him, still feeling awkward. He reached over and took my hand while we watched TV, and then when it was time for his final pill, I gave it to him.
I was awakened that night with the same squeeze of my hand I had grown accustomed to, and I remembered that he was out of Vicodin. I went into the bathroom and got the Tylenol and a glass of water.
When I returned, Eric was on his side, and so I went around to the other side of the bed and set the glass and pills down on the nightstand before crawling into bed and pressing myself into his back.
"You have seven minutes," I whispered into his ear and carefully, wrapped my arm around him so I could hold his chest.
He squeezed my hand and I started telling him more of the story of how I grew up, and in seven minutes, I got up and gave him the Tylenol.
I got back under the covers and started to gently massage his back.
"Is this okay?" I asked.
"Yeah, that's good."
I wondered if the pills were doing any good and continued my massage, adding gentle kisses to his neck just above the t-shirt. Amazingly, he was fast asleep within minutes and I stopped the massaging and kissing and just pressed myself up against his back.
I thought about our very uncomfortable conversation earlier and thought, no matter how I feel, what's important is his getting better. We can take a look at everything else once he's all better. This is what matters. I gave him a final kiss on his back and went back to sleep.
