Baby Makes Three

I don’t bother pointing out that my usual dinner selections are limited to microwave meals and PB&J sandwiches. I certainly did not frequent five-star hotels and restaurants.

“Maybe it’s because I grew up in hotels,” he speculated, his eyes wandering around the moody little restaurant now. “But I’ve always found something so sensual and exciting about them.”

“Really?”

“People aren’t themselves in hotels. They’re strangers exploring a foreign land, and that somehow inspires them to become someone better, a more exciting version of themselves. They dress up, they order room service, they upgrade to the junior suite, they pay extra for a bottle of champagne instead of prosecco. And the best part is, that if two of these fascinating strangers meet and the mood strikes, pure bliss is just a room key away.”

“I thought only junkies rented hotel rooms by the hour,” I said defiantly.

I know what you’re trying to do, Caleb Preston. But I was not falling for it.

“Besides,” I added, pausing for a sip of champagne, “What you’re describing isn’t sensual. It’s just so empty.”

“How so?” he frowned.

“Fake people having fake conversations with other fake people in a hotel bar, until they’ve mustered enough fake intimacy to have some fake sex in a fake hotel room?” I scoffed. “It sounds completely contrived and meaningless.”

“Life is contrived and meaningless,” Caleb said deeply. “And you want to talk about fake? Relationships are fake. Intimacy is a lie. Love dies, marriages break apart, people cheat, people hurt each other, people abandon their families. But connecting with another human, even if it’s a stranger, even if it’s only for a few fleeting moments of passion in a hotel room, that’s real.”

My heart was pounding through the veins of my neck and I was not sure if it’s Caleb or the champagne, but my head was spinning.

“I disagree.”

“Why?”

“Intimacy means different things to men and women.” My own cynicism was the only thing keeping me grounded now, and I took a deep breath before continuing. “Sex isn’t fulfilling to everyone. I think women need more than that, to feel true intimacy. I think women need love.”

“Sounds like you haven’t been having sex with the right kind of people,” Caleb eyed me intently.

...or at all, I wanted to add, but I bit my tongue, determined to keep a level head through dinner. I sat back in my chair, and tried to clear my head. I tried to remember why I thought this was a good idea.

“Aren’t hotels like this technically your competition?” I asked, trying to change the conversation.

“All the more reason to come,” Caleb shrugged. “There’s plenty of room in the sea for different kinds of fish.”

“I’m not sure that’s how the analogy goes.”

“No?” his eyes twinkled up at me, challenging me again. “Remind me, then, how does it go?”

I felt my stomach twist and my heart hammered against my ribs, and I could feel the effect of his intense gaze all the way down to the slick heat growing between my thighs. It was becoming all too easy to soothe my nerves with champagne, and I know that I should stop.

“The saying is that ‘there are plenty of fish in the sea.’”

“But surely not all the fish are the same,” he added, raising an eyebr

ow like it’s a question that I’m supposed to answer.

“How do you mean?”

“Well, there are little fish: minnows, guppies…” his eyes flickered meaningfully, but he not smiling anymore. His words weren’t just a challenge anymore. They were a warning. “And then there are big fish. Sharks.”

It was obvious what he wanted me to ask next, and I could not stop myself from indulging him.

“What kind of fish are you, Mr. Preston?”

His eyes flashed darkly and he smiled, then he takes a long sip of champagne.

“The kind you should stay away from.”