Page 39 of Tempted By the Princess

“I’ll probably need to work late on Wednesday so how about we see each other Thursday?”

“Sounds good.”

We gave each other a platonic goodbye outside of the restaurant, Carrie walking one way to go to her car, me going the other way to walk the short distance to my condo.

The next three weeks passed quickly. Carrie and I were in daily contact, texting throughout the day, sharing memes and talking about our days. We had dinner a few times. Went to the movies once, sitting near the back and holding hands the whole time. I even convinced Carrie to try a yoga class with me, then dragged her to the community center instead of the fancy yoga studio she was probably expecting.

“How did you even know about the community center?” she asked as we left our first class.

“I heard one of my coworkers talking about taking a hip hop class here,” I explained. “When I saw they had yoga I figured it would be good for both of us to do some stretching.”

“I liked that more than I expected to,” Carrie admitted. “We should do this again.”

“Agreed.”

Whenever we were together Carrie and I talked, laughed, held hands, we made out a little, but that was all we did. Our relationship was deepening, but the more time we spent together, the more I felt like a horny mess. I was so desperate to have sex with her again that Carrie could have shown up for a date wearing a burlap sack and I’d still think it was the sexiest outfit I’d ever seen.

After three and a half weeks of our new dating reality, Carrie shared that she had a rare Friday night off. That’s when I knew it was time to move things to the next level. Or back to the first level anyway.

“How about you come to my place for dinner Friday?” I suggested as we ate dinner at Burrito Burrito one Tuesday night. I’d become as fond of the burritos here as Carrie was, enough so that I’d come by myself one Saturday afternoon when she was working.

“Your place?” she asked, as if she’d misheard me.

We’d spent a lot of time together, but I’d never invited her over before.

“I can cook for you.”

Her gaze turned suspicious. “I thought you only knew how to cook eggs?”

“I can do more than eggs now,” I said archly. “I had some lessons when I was back home.”

The truth was my repertoire was still extremely limited, but I had a few more dishes I could make now thanks to our palace’s head chef.

“Okay, well that sounds good. What time should I come over?”

“How about six o’clock?” I suggested. “I have to work until five and that gives me some time to get ready.”

By ‘get ready’ I meant to plan a seduction, but I didn’t mention that. She’d figure it out soon enough. Not that I thought she’d mind. I could tell she was as desperate as I was for us to start sleeping together again. When we were together there were a lot of lingering looks, ‘accidental’ touches, and our quick, chaste kisses were turning into longer make-out sessions that were quickly becoming inappropriate for public consumption.

I hadn’t been so nervous about a date since I was a teenager. I woke up on Friday buzzing with anticipation and was unable to focus on anything all day. When I finally left work I practically jogged home.

I took a quick shower, grooming myself carefully, then blowing my hair out into soft waves. After a few minutes of debate I decided to wear a short, casual skirt that flounced around my thighs and a tight fitting knit shirt that made the most of my meager curves. I looked sexy but not too sexy. Beneath my outfit it was another story. I’d stopped at a high-end lingerie store the other day and purchased a sexy black lace bra and panties set that was more peekaboo than fabric. Satisfied with my outfit, I headed into the kitchen to start on dinner.

I propped my phone up against the coffee maker so I could follow the recipe that I’d learned back in Saint Marenne. It was roasted chicken and potatoes Greek style, with lemon, garlic, and oregano. Easy and tasty. I opened the chicken breast and tossed it in the pan. Then I cut up some potatoes and broccoli, squeezed some lemon juice over the food, and poured the spice mix over everything before I put it in the oven.

I closed the door, then I took the food out again, realizing that I hadn’t preheated the oven. Oops. I remembered our cook stressing the importance of preheating the oven. I turned the oven up to three seventy five, but after looking at the time on my phone I saw that I was running out of time before Carrie got here, so I increased the heat to the maximum of five hundred. That way the oven would heat faster.

While I waited for the oven to get hot I made a salad and set the table, adding taper candles in silver candleholders that I’d brought from home. The oven beeped, alerting me that it had reached the correct temperature, so I slid the roasting pan onto the center rack and set the timer on my phone.

I headed out to the main living area, making sure everything was neat and clean while I tried to shake the sensation that I’d forgotten something. Then the doorbell rang and it all went right out of my mind.

Carrie

The door opened about five seconds after I pressed the doorbell.

“You made it.” Genny gave me a big smile, grabbing my wrist and pulling me inside her condo.

“I brought wine,” I said, holding up the bottle.