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Not that I wanted anything from him. We aren’t there yet. I’m not even sure where ‘there’ is or what the hell that all was. All I know is that my dancing did something to him.
It was awesome.
Thrilling.
Confusing.
Which is, I’m sure, why I haven’t seen Evan at work. He’s been out on jobs, meetings every day. The only excuse I got was a note that this week is “packed”. Clearly, not completely made up, seeing as how Geneviv has piled on my workload in the meantime. I doubt I’ll ever see the bottom of the stacks of reports on my desk.
The only upside to that is the knowledge I’ve gained of how our system works. One hard copy, one digital. Kept in undisclosed locations. The idea is to avoid a digital paper trail.
But we keep every bit of dirt, money, and smut we ever dealt out and to whom.
I review the request, the summary of the deal. Check the peripherals, listen to the phone calls, email, any evidence of the meeting, or the favor and delivery, etcetera. Then I create a final summary. Evan approves it.
Then I destroy everything and drop the hard copy and thumb drive in the safe for transport to wherever he sends that stuff for safekeeping.
Which is all fine. Except for the content of some of them.
Several times, I had to get up and leave the room, take a break. The things that people ask for. The things Evan has arranged…
And I’m certain the worst of them never make it to my desk. I know Evan handles some of the reports himself. Quietly.
“Are we still on for movies?” Gavin interrupts the whirlwind of Evan-Sinful-sex-paperwork-repeat pattern that seems to be all I can think about lately.
“Absolutely! I need a night at home. Tell me we have popcorn?”
“Extra butter. And dark chocolate. And ice cream.” My eyes get wider with each addition, pretending to faint onto the couch.
“You’re my hero!”
“Beer for me, wine for you?”
“Eh… let’s go seltzer. Blackberry?” This little domestic rapport we’ve fallen into is everything. It’s the perfect balance to my wacky job.
“What movies are we watching?” Gavin looks a little worried. He probably thinks I only watch Jane Austen and Bridger-lady porn. He’s not entirely wrong. I do love me some period dramas, especially the spicy ones.
“Thought we could start with some mindless violence?” I hold up the case for his approval, and he nods, a bit surprised.
“I’ll try not to point out what I’d do better…” He grins as I roll my eyes at his bravado.
Even if it isn’t really bravado in his case.
Heading into the spare bedroom to change, I leave the door pushed over, some part of me always hoping Gavin will catch a glimpse. I’ve gotten pretty gutsy lately. Doesn’t help that I am so pent up since Evan’s ‘show’.
Most of my things are stacked on the dresser, or on boxes, but it works for a changing room and closet, since my bedroom is in the living area.
Hmm. Let’s see…
Booty shorts.
Tank top.
Thigh-high, comfy socks.
A little mischievous grin pulls at my lips as I make a little show of walking past the kitchen to the couch. All I hear behind me is a choking sound, a spray of beer, and Gavin coughing.
I stifle my laughter, sliding the movie into the player and getting ready with my blanket. The DVD player whirs, booting the disc, and I can’t help but shake my head. Apparently, having internet access and a nice TV does not mean that Gavin Rorshak is ready to get with the times and subscribe to streaming services.
