I’m not unhinged, not dangerous. Not to her anyway.
Just passionate. And it’s all because of her, all for her.
Something I haven’t really known until the moment I saw her earlier today and I guess it’s starting to show as more than just a bulge in my pants.
Something I guess I’ll have to tell her before the evening comes to an end because as I predicted, there’s no way I can see myself a single room away from her all alone and getting a wink of sleep.
Not without telling her how I feel first.
I watch her walk back to our table from the restroom, her shoulder length golden hair bobbing with each step, her face lighting up as she smiles in reply to my own.
I dunno, it feels like someone’s turned the lights on.
Everything just seems brighter, more colorful when she walks back into the room.
And I have my member between my legs pointing north to prove it’s not my imagination.
I’m really falling for Lucy. Hard.
In every sense of the word.
I want her so bad, it’s not until she sits back down and gives me an expectant look. Like she knows I want to tell her something.
Our food is coming now, I can see the manager but I give him a subtle shake of my head.
Not now.
Here’s a guy who knows how to do his job, and without a fuss, he spins on his heel, everything straight back to the kitchen.
I’ll let him know when we’re ready to eat.
“I think you belong with me now,” I hear myself telling her. Not able to keep it to myself once I see how beautiful she looks walking back over to our table.
She blushes a little as she sits back down, then asks what I mean.
“All those cameras, media crews lurking about. Do you really want to be bothered by stupid questions everywhere you go while you’re in town?” I ask her, deciding for her out loud.
“No. It’s better to stay with me,” I reason. “We can have more privacy and you'll get a better than front row experience of everything.”
She gives another little knowing smile, and I know exactly what she’s thinking.
About the front row performance, she’s already seen.
I’ve got nothing to hide from her physically, not after that.
But her face falls a little as she considers everything I’ve just said.
“Do you really want me hanging around all the time though? I mean, you must have a million things to organize, people to speak to,” she tries to tell me, may be used to feeling or thinking she’s always the third wheel.
Like with her chaperone, Marie.
“I want you,” I tell her, giving her as much of a needy look as I can without spelling it out for her.
That can come later, after dinner if I have my way. When I’ll list everything I want to do to her as I show her every pleasure she deserves.
She shifts uneasily in her seat, chewing her lip as she takes in what I’ve just said.
How I’ve said it.
“Won’t the papers be telling enough stories as it is?” she asks, looking down at her lap.
“I mean, Nathan Cartwright seen going to dinner with a girl more than half his age…”
Hearing her say it like that stops me in my tracks.
It’s something I’ve considered myself, but hearing her say it hurts more than anything, more than rejection ever could from anyone else.
I forget sometimes. Not just being an older guy, just being older, period.
Like when I run or work out, I’m coming up against some aches and pains I never used to get. Even a few gray hairs here and there.
Happens to everyone, I guess.
But Lucy makes me feel like I’m nineteen again, in every way. Physically and mentally sharp. Like nothing could stop me.
Except for the part where she lets me down not so gently.
I remain silent for a moment, collecting myself.
What did I really expect? That a girl so young would just leap into my arms?
Sure I might be famous, have money, and all the rest. Might even have a bit of talent as a writer lurking somewhere. But it’s only natural a girl of her years might be interested in boys her own age.
Boys.
That’s all they are though.
I might be a lot of things, but one thing I know I am is a real man.
It’s Lucy’s voice that breaks my train of thought, piercing a hole in the mental image of me pushing younger men aside to get to her. To prove to her that it’s how I want her that counts.
How I need her now.
I guess she’s gonna tell me thanks but no thanks, and I’ll have to be man enough to hear it.
“I didn’t mean it as a bad thing, Nathan,” I hear her telling me again after I ask her to repeat what she just said.