Page 64 of Geeky Pucking Orc

But this? This was out of my league. We were outside The Prime Rib. It was family owned, founded in 1965 and modeled after a 40’s style supper club. It was all red leather and leopard print with brass and white-gloved waiters. Live music from musicians playing the baby grand piano and a variety of other instruments provided atmosphere. And the food was amazing.

Not that I knew this personally.

Bwat and I were escorted to our seats by a man wearing a tuxedo. I felt underdressed, even though I was wearing a very nice wool suit. None of that seemed to matter to the staff, who were carefully not making a fuss over Bwat while obviously catering to him as a celebrity.

“They think you’re George Clooney,” I teased as we took our seat.

“I told them I was Bwat of Clan Torrek and that I play for the Baltimore Tusks.” Bwat’s brow furrowed in worry. “I hope I have not taken this George Clooney orc’s reservation.”

I stifled a laugh. “I’m joking. George Clooney is a human actor, and I doubt he’s ever been here. They clearly consider you famous, Bwat.”

He blushed that dark olive. “I am not famous. I am just Bwat.”

“Bwat the fan favorite. Bwat, the winner of Willa’s tap-the-mouse contest. Bwat, the feller of hockey players.” I saluted him with my water glass, enjoying his embarrassed squirm. “Bwat, my best friend.”

I hesitated. He’d stilled, his eyes searching my face for the very thing I was too scared to say.

“You are my best friend too, Abby. You are the most important being in my life,” he confessed.

A tuxedo suited man appeared to discuss wine, giving me a moment to gather my courage. Bwat must have spent considerable time researching their wine list, because the man seemed impressed by his replies and questions. I remained silent, knowing far more about beer than I did about wine, and happy for once to put my beverage choice into these two men’s hands.

I also let Bwat order my meal. It was the first time I’d ever let someone else order for me, but Bwat knew I wanted the prime rib medium rare, and that I liked butter but no sour cream on my baked potato and that I would love to have an order of roasted Brussel sprouts and sparking water with a lemon. I wasn’t sure how he knew all these things, and each time he ordered, he met my eyes with a slight question in his own, wanting me to speak up if he’d gotten anything wrong.

Once we were settled in with our wine, I gathered my courage. “Do you remember last Friday night when I kissed you and pulled you into my apartment?”

With a sharp inhale, he quickly replied. “Yes. I think of that kiss all the time. As well as the one you gave me yesterday at your car.”

I toyed with the stem of my wine glass. “If I only drink one glass of wine tonight and kiss you again, will you invite me to stay at your apartment?”

He stared at me a moment as if he couldn’t quite understand what I was implying.

“I want to kiss you tonight, Bwat. I want to come into your apartment and for you to kiss me back. And if we both want to continue beyond kissing…I’m hoping you won’t say ‘no’ this time.”

“I did not want to say ‘no’ last time. I was afraid you would regret it the next morning if we were intimate,” he hurriedly replied.

“I won’t regret it if you say ‘yes’ this time.”

Again there was a moment of silence between us. Bwat reached across the table and touched my hand. “Then I will invite you to stay. And I will be honored by your presence in my furs.”

I let go of my wine glass stem and entwined my fingers with his. “Will things change between us, Bwat? If one of us decides this is only a one-time thing, will we still be friends? Because I…I would be so very sad if we were no longer friends.”

That was as vulnerable as I could get. I wanted him, but I also wanted an escape hatch to go back to what we currently had if….

If what? I was attracted to him. I wanted him. And Bwat didn’t strike me as the sort of guy who would be opposed to a little directive feedback, if he even needed direction. The sex would be good, and every time after it would probably be better. I could trust him.

I could trust Bwat with my heart, as well as my body and my friendship.

“Abby, I will always be your friend. I love you, but I am willing to hold back and give you only what you will accept from me. If that is only friendship, then we will be friends. If that is pleasure in the furs, then I will give your body all my attention and savor every moment we are naked together. If that is love, you will have my love. Marriage. Offspring. A life here or a life in my world. You can take as much time as you need. I will be patient. And I will always be here for you, Abby.”

30

BWAT

Ibarely remembered eating my steak. It was probably one of the best pieces of meat I’d ever consumed, based on the reviews I’d read of this restaurant, but my mind was elsewhere.

Obviously.

Her place or mine? She’d hinted at my place, which had me running through a checklist of whether I’d left any dirty laundry on the floor, or a blob of toothpaste on the bathroom counter, or this morning’s dishes in the sink.