Daria's Dating Dilemma, Part Six - Eight

Daria’s Dating Dilemma, Part Six

When we left Daria on she was sitting in the rain wondering if things would ever go right…

I sat in the rain until a passerby threw a dollar at me. Now I was reduced to looking like a street beggar. I stood quickly, hurling the wet wad at the person’s head, and shouting incoherently. Sure it made me look crazier, but I was irate. My phone was gone, my first good date was ruined, and now my lawyer friend probably thought I was a loser. What else could go wrong?

Deciding my pity party needed to be mobile, I started walking along the sidewalk. Home wasn’t a far and warm, clean clothes awaited me. Muttering to myself, I negotiated the streets and people racing out of the rain. The storm came harder and faster, soaking me to the skin in record time and setting me to shivering.

I stopped at the corner one block from home when a different large truck hit the puddle in front of me. I cried out as a deluge of muddy water and debris washed me onto my ass at the curb. The driver of the truck didn’t even slow down, the bastard. Wiping the water off my face, I shook my hands angrily and dug my purse out of the street. I was soaked and dirty, my purse was ruined—its contents probably destroyed as well—and it wasn’t even noon yet. My patience was stretched to the limit. The anger fueled my pace and I finished the trip in record time. Beat that Patrick Makau.

Digging my wet keys from the ruined clutch, I let myself in and stripped inside the door. I threw the clothes on the tile for washing or discarding—I hadn’t decided which. I carried my purse into the kitchen and dumped everything in the sink. I’d take care of it later. First, I wanted a hot shower and a pint of ice cream.  And, yes, I’d call off work to spend a day shut in with emotional chick flicks, Ben, and Jerry.

Two days later and I’d replaced my phone, the contents of my purse, and was working on my pride. There were no messages from anyone on my new cell or my home phone. Queen of horror dates strikes again, I silently cheered watching the elevator tick off floors. I strode off intent on finding my cube and hiding inside until the clock struck five. I stopped short as the crowd around my workspace registered in my frazzled mind.

“Great, I’m probably being fired on top of things,” I mumbled and pushed my way past them.

My purse, work bag, and jaw hit the floor in surprise. There, on MY desk, were two enormous flower arrangements. Not the ‘cheap bought at a gas station’ kind, but the ‘in the vase and I paid a fortune for hand delivery’ kind. From my vantage point, I was sure at least one was authentic crystal. I stared frozen in place for at least ten minutes while my gossiping co-workers took in every nuance of my reaction. Great, I’d be the office tramp by lunch.

Ignoring them, I moved into my area and mentally slammed the door. Quickly, I grabbed the note cards from each bouquet and shoved them in my bag to read once the drama calmed down. I continued ignoring the questions and whispers while I logged into my workstation and reviewed the stack of messages from the receptionist. Apparently things had been busy while I’d been out on my day off.

As the clock chimed starting time, the boss cajoled everyone away to their own office pens before heading back to mine. “Daria, I sincerely hope these flowers are not the reason you were out sick yesterday?”

I merely looked up at her. My eyes were still red and puffy from a day of crying. I was also sure the end of my nose was dry and blotchy. I looked like I’d had the cold I lied about. “Of course not and I apologize I had to call off. I’m not sure where the flowers came from. Oh, and I’m feeling better now.” The ‘thanks for asking, bitch’ was silent.

The boss nodded and walked away as I breathed a sigh of relief. Pulling the cards free from my bag, I glanced at each quickly. The first was a typed message from Keith, presumably ordered while he was in Europe.

I tried calling but didn’t get an answer. Wanted to let you know there are no hard feelings and I look forward to talking when I return next week.

“Nice, thank you broken phone,” I sarcastically grumbled and grabbed for the other. It unexpectedly was from Marcus.

Sorry I missed you the other day. I was out grabbing breakfast. As your representation, I suggest discussing my fee over dinner. Please call to schedule a time.

I giggled, swallowing the full out laugh threatening to spill over. To anyone else, it would be a very professional note. Knowing Marcus as I did, it was full of humor and innuendo. It was just the thing to cheer me up. I jotted notes in my planner to attempt to call each after work.

The rest of work passed in a blur of activity. Not used to me taking a sick day, several clients had panicked when unable to reach me the day before. One in particular had left no less than twelve messages. Toward the end of the stack, the receptionist had stopped writing her number or message all together. It had also taken an hour to convince the woman I was not gravely ill or anywhere near death’s door. Ironically, the woman chastised me for not taking more time to myself after giving me a page long list of items to be taken care of.

Standing to grab my coat and debating picking up another pint of ice cream, I looked around my office floor and sighed. Some days, I really wanted to chew my way out of our gopher den. Hopefully, my good work would be noticed eventually and I could move up the food chain. I was currently lodged solidly in the bopped-on-the-head department. I chuckled as I pictured a rubber mallet striking each cranium that emerged over the partition walls.

Grinning still as I let myself into my home, the flashing message light caught my attention. I had three messages. It was an incredible occurrence, I usually managed one message a week and it was from my parents. Their message usually entailed making sure I was alive, highlighting other people’s successes, and not so casually asking if I’d made any progress in life. I dropped my bags into the chair and raced over to press the button.

I leaned on the counter as the messages played. The first was from Pat wanting to make sure I had survived okay. I could tell by the whispered tone, he was again hiding from his wife to call me. He quickly added he’d given Keith my home number before the call abruptly disconnected. The second message was from Marcus, wanting to know if I received his professional package and if I had any plans this evening. The third was from Keith, a little fuzzy because of the connection. I could barely make anything out —something about his meetings going well and such. I saved all three just as proof I could receive calls.

Grabbing the handset free, I called Marcus back and chatted while changing. The rustle of clothes must have transmitted over the line. He mentioned it with a joke of course and sent me into a fit of laughter.

“It’s so good to hear you laugh at the end of a long day, Daria.” Marcus’ voice drifted across the quiet and I was speechless. “So, what were you thinking for dinner?”

“Pizza and a movie,” I joked, tossing a shirt over my head and zipping up my jeans.

“Funny, that’s just what I was thinking.”

My response to his odd reply was cut off by the door bell ringing. He had already disconnected the call. Racing back to the front room, I threw open the door and stared at him. Marcus stood on my steps holding a pizza from the best pie shop in town and a six pack of beer.

I tried to lean casually against my door frame. “Funny, mister, I don’t remember ordering a pizza. I’m afraid I’m not going to pay you for the pie.”

He smiled wide, his perfect teeth showing. “That’s a shame, ma’am. I’m pretty sure there’s a copy of Shaun of the Dead in my jacket.”

“I own it,” I shrugged, holding back laughter.

He stepped closer. “I think the other pocket has Princess Bride and Hershey caramel Kisses,” he whispered.

“Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” I moved out of the way and motioned him inside with a frenzied wave.

We both laughed as we moved toward the kitchen. He sat the goodies out on the counter while I wrangled up plates and glasses. Serving up the pizza, beer, and grabbing the bag of Kisses for later, I motioned him into my living room. My entertainment area wasn’t super high-tech but it was good quality. When you find yourself alone most Saturday nights, it pays to have a great home theatre set-up and forgiving neighbors.

We ate while watching Shaun of the Dead and quoting lines along with the movie. Once stuffed, I leaned into him while contemplating the bag of Kisses. His arm silently slipped around my shoulders and we sat in silence until the movie ended. He rose, brought out two more beers, and studied the DVD player.

“So, should I put in Princess Bride?” Marcus asked with a wink.

“Sure, why not?” I answered with a shrug.

“As you wish…”His smiled melted my heart faster than Kisses over an open flame.

My voice was huskier than I ever remembered hearing it before.  “Come snuggle and keep me safe from the ROUS’s.” I patted the cushion next to me and eagerly cuddled into his body when he complied. I truly believe it’s the only occasion I didn’t pay any attention to my favorite movie.

Just when the action in my living room was about to surpass the action on the screen for the first time in recorded history, the phone rang interrupting the moment. I let the machine catch it, forgetting I had turned the volume up earlier. Keith’s voice echoed through my open downstairs floor plan.

“Should be home tomorrow, would love to see you again. You still owe me a coffee.”

Rule number nine: Expect the unexpected, otherwise known as 'unplug the phone with you have a date over' rule.

I blushed red hot as Marcus lowered my shirt and looked at me oddly. Hell, there went another good date. He’d probably storm out and never return. Worse, he’d probably send me a huge legal bill the next morning. I sat there like a moron waiting to hear the worst.

Marcus’ expression took on a sexy, dangerous look. “Well, I guess I have twenty four hours to make you hate the thought of coffee…”

Rule number ten: See rule number nine and… Oh to hell with the rules…

 

Daria’s Dating Dilemma, Part Seven

By: Jennifer Feuerstein

I rolled over in bed, yawning loud enough to wake the dead. As my limbs stretched out in my greet the morning ritual, I bumped into something – a very large something. I muffled my scream with my hands as I suddenly remembered Marcus spending the night. Stiffness in just the right places accented the memory. Holy freaking hell, I’d actually gone and, well, done it.

To make matters worse, I suddenly noticed him staring at me. I probably looked horrible! I could imagine my hair all over the place, sleepies in my eyes, and I could only imagine what my breath smelled like. At the thought, I covered my mouth in a grip tighter than Fort Knox and muttered a sloppy excuse for morning.

“Um, something wrong?”

Oh no, his face was showing worry and was five seconds away from disappointment. I shook my head violently and loosened my grip just a little. “Morning breath… be right back.”

I sprinted into my bathroom before he could complain and grabbed for my toothbrush. I worked the bristles and toothpaste around my mouth as quickly as I could while making sure I hit every crevice. After the rinse and spit, I checked my breath with my hand and decided to run the brush through my hair. All done and human again, I leaned out the bathroom door.

“Would you like a turn?” I blushed again, I would forever be a shade of pink around him after this.

He shook a small bag at me. “When a man plans to seduce a woman, he packs a bag of necessities just in case.”

I laughed, enjoying his humor this early in the morning. “You do this a lot when you deliver pizzas?”

“First time I’ve ever wanted to, but I was an Eagle Scout.”

“Ah, yes, the old always be prepared motto.”

“I freshened up earlier.” His voice took on a deeper, sexy tone. “Come back to bed.”

I resisted barely by entering my closet instead. Deep inside its safe borders, I called out, “I would love to, but I have this pesky thing called work to take care of.”

I turned with outfit in hand only to walk right into Marcus’ chest, his sexy bare chest. The clothes hit the floor and my hands wandered along the smooth contours of muscles under their own volition. I had no control over my body anymore. His mouth met mine halfway and the sudden visual of sex on the closet floor set me moaning. Wrinkle the merchandise? Yes, please!

The doorbell rang, interrupting our little session. With a muttered curse, Marcus let my nightshirt drop back into place. “Expecting someone?”

“Not unless you ordered me flowers,” I joked as the bell rang again. “Impatient. Let me just send them off and we’ll get back to good mornings.”

Marcus moved out of my way with a smile. I had to fight to plant my feet without falling to the floor. I had a serious case of jelly-legs over him. My head was in the clouds as I swung open my door intent on scaring the person away and returning to the bedroom.

“Daria?”

My attention snapped back to alert as I stared up at Keith. “Oh shit, Keith…um.”

He pushed his way in, I was too startled and flustered to stop him. “Not really the greeting I was expecting,” he chuckled and began shrugging off his coat. “I approve of the outfit though. Nice legs. And, before you think me heartless, I brought coffee and bagels.”

“I wasn’t expecting you at all. As nice as it is, I really have to get ready for work.”

“Nonsense, you don’t have to leave for at least two hours. Didn’t you get my message that I’d stop by?” Keith asked over his shoulder as he began unloading his bag of goodies.

I looked up and he paused as Marcus entered the room in just his pants. Oh for fuck’s sake, the first time one guy takes notice of me and suddenly two of them are facing off in my living room. I actually pinched myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. Flinching, I realized I was going to have to diffuse the potential bomb before my personal life went up in a fireball bigger than Hiroshima.

Marcus beat me to the introductions. “Ah, you must be Keith?” He walked over with his muscular arm extended. “I’m Marcus. Oh, there’s my shirt.”

Keith shook his hand and then moved so Marcus could grab his shirt off the kitchen stool. How it got there I couldn’t quite remember, but just the attempt set me to blushing again. Noticing Keith’s stare sent my blush from pink to red fire in record time.

“Um, well. I’m Keith, apparently I missed something here. Are you Daria’s boyfriend?”

Before I could answer, Marcus laughed. “Old friend and currently her lawyer. Actually, the last time we met, you were drooling in the police station.”

“Daria, your lawyer spends the night?”

“Well, um… What I mean is…” I stuttered until Marcus moved behind me and rested his hands on my shoulders. They started in with a relaxing rub until I was leaning back against him. Hell, I almost missed his next words, probably his plan all along.

“Keith, let’s be up front here. Last night just happened. I’m not her boyfriend, yet, but neither are you.”

I noticed Keith straighten, at odds with the relaxed feel of Marcus behind me. “What are you suggesting?” His voice was colder too.

“Same thing every decent man suggests. Best man wins and lady’s choice.” Marcus’ voice held challenge and authority. Goosebumps rose on my arms as he leaned down and whispered in my ear. “I should get going. Let me know when it’s my turn again.”

He was halfway across my living room before my brain got back in the game. “Wait, don’t I get a say in this? And, a couple things. First off, Keith. It’s creepy that you know when I leave for work. Second, Marcus, you’d be okay with this? I’m so confused right now…”

They both started talking at once until Marcus nodded at Keith basically giving him the floor. “Gee, thanks asshole. Okay, first I never lose and second. Daria, I know what time you leave approximately because I’m a client of your firm. Therefore I know when that firm opens. I was guessing at what time you’d usually leave.”

“Can I get one of those bagels?” Marcus interrupted and smiled until Keith tossed one at him, baseball style. “Nice arm and thanks.”

I threw my hands in the air. “I need to get dressed at least. If you two want to go caveman, do it outside and please let me know who’ll be clubbing me over the head later!”

I tried to shove past Marcus to get to the door, but he held me firm until I looked up at him. “I will fight for you, but the choice is yours. I won’t force you in anything.” He leaned in closer, kissed my forehead, and whispered low, “Last night was amazing and I’ll call you later.”

Then, he stepped away to let me pass. I had to fight the urge to hug him. Damn it, I was already attached to him. His grin told me he had guessed at how I was feeling. He knew me too well, even after all these years. He probably thought he would win hands down. I smiled wickedly and his grin fell. I threw my hair over my shoulder and looked at Keith.

“I have to get ready for work, but if you’d like to meet for dinner? I’ll be available after six this evening. What do you think, Keith?”

Keith nodded, still a little thrown by the entire scenario. “I’d say I’ll be here at six-thirty. Wear something cocktail appropriate.”

“I can manage that. Marcus, you were leaving right?”

“As you wish,” he bowed and went into my room to gather his things.

Ten minutes later, I’d hustled both men out my door and collapsed against it. The worst part was I knew this little competition would be hanging over my head at work the whole day. My brain had grabbed at the idea like a pit bull and was not going to let it go any time soon. I showered, cleaned up, and then dressed conservatively in slacks and a dress shirt. I was going to follow that old Boy Scout rule myself today.

Rule Eleven: Always be prepared!

I had apparently entered some kind of war between my two love interests. I also had a horrible feeling that it wasn’t going to be anywhere near as romantic as the novels made it sound. I pulled on my flats and made sure I had everything before closing my door. War was a sloppy, messy affair and I didn’t think it was going to be romantic at all…

Daria’s Dating Dilemma, Part Eight

By: Jennifer Feuerstein

The war was on, I wrote those words in my little notepad of rules when I got to work. I didn’t want to think of it as a war, but competitions were friendly things. Maybe it was the two vases of flowers, the teddy bear, and the expensive box of chocolates on my desk by lunchtime, but I didn’t really see this as a friendly type of match-up.

Instead of spreadsheets, graphs, and proposals work demanded be completed, I spent all day working on a chart about my personal issue. Waste of time and would put me behind later. I realized the extra work I was causing myself, but I couldn’t help it. One had to know their enemies before entering the war zone and, honestly, my brain wouldn’t focus on anything else. Well, except the occasional midnight frenzy flashbacks.

Those were nice too, but they accomplished absolutely nothing so I banished them to memory only. I was not going to think about Marcus’ body moving against mine, how he seemed to know just the right rhythm, or how natural it felt… Was that me sighing? Again?

“DARIA?!”

The harsh voice of my supervisor warned she’d been trying to get my attention for some time and hadn’t been successful. I swallowed the lump of dread in my throat and gave her my full attention. It was all the invite she needed to unload.

“I have no idea what’s going on in your life that your desk now looks like an advertisement for Hallmark, but I suggest you keep it outside these doors. Furthermore, I want the reports on the Sullivan account on my desk by tomorrow morning.” Her voice dropped a bit. “And, seriously, if you’re going to sit here daydreaming and doing nothing, take one of your vacation days and get out of here. You’re freaking out your coworkers.”

She walked away shaking her head, the stilettos sounding out a warning of what direction she walked. My overactive imagination supplied the sound of screams of fear at her approach. Shame on me, she wasn’t that bad a boss. I was just a little offended by what had been said. Was the thought of me getting flowers and love notes really that shocking? I mean, honestly?

A quick look around at the worried, confused, and occasional jealous faces of the people around me supplied the answer. Okay, now I was confused and embarrassed about my situation rather than thrilled. I gathered up my things using one of the mail carts from nearby and broke one of my rules. I called a cab to pick me up. It was the sensible thing to do. I couldn’t exactly walk four blocks carrying all the things and I couldn’t take the mail room cart.

As my cab driver loaded my items carefully while telling me how wonderful they were, I got an ugly thought. I left the cart inside the front doors instead of returning it. A total stranger had given me the reaction I thought was warranted, while the people who’d kind of known me for years were repulsed by my sudden fame. I smiled as the cabbie continued on as we drove. I nodded when appropriate, but suddenly wondered if enjoying the attention was already sucking me into the war.

I spent my afternoon working on my lists and creating a plan of attack. I let the machine answer when Keith called. Partially because I was busy and partially because I didn’t want either man to know I was home. I tidied my living room, laughing at the number of Kisses I found scattered everywhere and then picked out my evening attire. I wasn’t going to count Marcus’ first night. It was a sneak attack and was going to be erased from record. As well as it could be erased.

I wanted to give each man a fair shot. That meant getting to know more about each one, especially about Keith since I’d known Marcus ages ago. “Shit, your date tonight is with Keith, stop thinking about the other one!” I yelled at myself in the mirror.

Even if I promised not to count it, Marcus had struck the first blow. I needed to give Keith a chance to get back on the board. I chose something stunning, yet conservative for dinner with him. A simple black dress with low heels and pearls completed my very Jackie-O attire. I looked great without feeling like I had ‘TROPHY’ stamped on my forehead.

That was another worry I had. What if the man I chose was more interested in being the winner than in the prize? It wasn’t a completely ridiculous train of thought. Men were always more interested in the chase than holding onto what they caught. Then again, Marcus had technically already sampled the goods and had been the one to suggest the competition style event.

“GAH!” I cried out in frustration. “New plan. Just think of it as dating two guys.”

There, I liked that plan better. The whole idea of competition and wars was more unnerving than the thought of dating two men at once. Which, for me, was a bit like being handed a nuclear warhead and told not to drop it. I was sure to fumble and bumble and mess up the whole fucking world by tripping over my own feet.

Keith was prompt, ringing my bell at the time he’d mentioned. My mental secretary made a tick in the ‘pro’ column as I greeted him. My inner demon took in his sex appeal in the suit and added a few more. I invited him in as I decided I was my own worst enemy in the battle.
“I’d love nothing more than to come in, but we have to make our reservation.”

Keith smiled, but I was confused, “Our reservation is that early?”

His smile broadened showing his pearly white teeth. Demon me added several more ticks in the pro column. “Well, I wanted to leave our evening free after dinner.”

“Oh,” was all I managed as I followed him out. Inside my brain, several alarms and red lights were flashing. I hoped and prayed he wasn’t expecting a night like Marcus’. Forget the dating two guys idea, I was going to need to lay down ground rules. I had meant to, honestly. I’d even planned out what to say, but the sight of the limo stopped me in my tracks.

“It’s not overboard I hope. I didn’t want either of us to worry about having to drive.”

“Okay, but a limo?”

He opened my door shaking away the driver, “I live to impress.”

I chuckled as I slid across the leather seat as gracefully as I could manage. “So I gathered.”

He slid in beside me with an ease belying how many times he’d been in a limo and the driver shut the door cutting the world off. “First time in a limo? Champagne?”

Keith seemed a little too eager to impress with the whole limo stunt and it was too early to be applying the alcohol. I shrugged and took the flute glass. “If you don’t count two proms and three weddings… sure.”

I sipped my champagne, obviously an expensive brand and waited for a reaction to my snippy remark. If these guys were going to ‘fight’ over me, I might as well be myself. Sarcasm with a hint of ouch was my forte and if Keith couldn’t handle it, I’d toss him out of his posh limo right now. Maybe I was edgy from the reactions at work but I didn’t like the feeling that he was trying to buy me.

Again, I was surprised. Keith laughed and not one of those ‘haha, you got me there’ laughs, but a full on hysterical comedy show laugh.  He relaxed into his seat and loosened the tie he wore.

“Sometimes, Daria, I forget you’re a woman and not one of my business accounts. I’m sorry for that but, God, I love your honest responses.”

Shocked, party of one… I sipped my Champagne a moment before nodding. “I’m not the sugar-coating type, outside of work of course.”

“And what exactly do you do for your firm? They seemed a little surprised when I mentioned signing on and asked for you specifically.”

Which reminded me. “Keith, about that, if we continue this relationship I think it would be in your best interest legally to have someone else oversee your account.”

“Spoken like a true business woman.” He downed his glass and stared out the window.

Hello mood swing tsunami, warning red… “Excuse me?”

He shook himself. “Work was awful and I’m sorry I’m taking it out on you. In all honesty the limo and the champagne were supposed to win over a potential client, but she was the biggest Ice Queen from Hell and I’m pretty sure I’ll hear about it from the bosses.”

“I see.” I didn’t. “Well, let’s skip the shop talk and forget nine to five. In answer to your question, I manage financial investments for individuals. Items like retirement, foreign accounts, and trust funds. Most of my clients tend to be elderly, touchy clients with the attitudes of buzzards.”

He nodded and smiled, “The hazardous clients…”

I grinned back at the insider term. “Yes, the hazardous ones. So they were probably staring at you wondering what was so hazardous about you.”

Keith’s smile turned dangerously hot and I shifted in my seat. “Oh, Daria, you have no idea.”

The newly acquired sex demon inside me was leaping across the limo and making short work of the man next to me. I had slid closer to him before realizing the magnetic draw. Sheesh, one - okay, three orgasms - and suddenly I was a nymphomaniac dying for my next hit. I reminded myself Keith lived on his charm, it was part of his career after all.

His hand moved to rest on my bare knee. His fingers twitched, but stayed put. Apparently he did have some manners, but that hand still felt like a brand. There was still heat in his eyes, but I could tell he’d dialed it back under control. Didn’t help the effect of the warmth of his skin on mine, it was slowly spreading north.

“We are going to have fun tonight. Anything you want,” he promised.

Note to self, date nights were trouser nights. No more skirts or dresses unless I really wanted to end up horizontal. I gulped and found myself wondering what Keith was like when he lost that control.  

~Jennifer Feuerstein~

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Copyright © 2012 Jennifer Feuerstein

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.