Valentine's Day Virgin

I choke on a piece of lettuce, but manage to swallow. “Iris, we’ve been on one date, and I’m going to a party because I owe a debt. We happened to have chemistry, and maybe, maybe we might have sex. That’s a long way from marrying someone.” But even as I say it, I know that it rings wrong. It’s not just chemistry. It’s something deep and unexpected, something that I can’t put a name to. But even if that is true, I haven’t even known him a day.

Given that, everything that’s happened is kind of embarrassing, and I tell Iris that. She shakes her head. “Why? You went out with a guy you liked and he made you come. Do you think it’s embarrassing for him?”

“I—” I freeze, thinking through what I’m actually saying. “No, I guess not.”

Iris shrugs, taking a bite of her sandwich. “So you had a one-night stand without the full stand. Even if you had, it wouldn’t be embarrassing.”

“Thanks.”

“If you end up fucking in the dressing room at Aurelia’s, I’m going to die.”

My eyes go wide. “That’s not going to happen! That’s basically the whole reason he stopped. I get the feeling that if anything happens, it’s going to be in a bed. Which is daunting in its own kind of way.”

She makes a sound that’s very inappropriate for where we’re sitting. In public. “God, I bet he has a great bed.”

“Iris.”

“Oh, and you didn’t say, did you feel him? Like how big?” I can’t even speak, but I think the red rushing to my face is answer enough because Iris is laughing, and I’m hiding my face in my salad. “I’m teasing you,” she says. “But seriously, I think this is so good for you. You need a man who’s not going just run away. It’s stupid, and they need to get their shit together. But it looks like Eric already has his shit together.”

“Yeah,” I say. I would agree. The way he touched me, like he knew how my body would respond better than I did, the way he kissed my skin and tangled his hands in my hair…God. I can’t think about that or I’m going to be wet and wanting when I see him and that might end up with us fucking in the dressing room. I’m not exactly opposed to exhibitionism, but two sexual encounters in public spaces in twenty-four hours would be a lot for me.

So I shove the thoughts of my orgasm aside to keep for later when I have my vibrator handy. There’s no chance that’s not happening.

We spend the rest of lunch chatting, and me deflecting Iris’s teasing about Eric. But all that does is make me want to see him more. I want to find out if seeing him in person is going to elicit the same kind of response that it did last night. So once we’re finished, I head out to Aurelia’s. I know where it is—every woman in the city knows where it is. Because we all secretly want to shop there. I never thought that I’d actually get to.

I hesitate before I go in. This is a store that celebrities shop in. And rich people. Not me. Not people who just had a failed interview and are wearing a suit that was a hand-me-down from my sister because I couldn’t afford to buy a new one. But Eric said that he’d meet me here at noon, and it’s almost that time.

Taking a deep breath, I go inside. I’m immediately struck by how classically beautiful the store is. The window displays are a curated chaos of flowers making up gowns for Valentine’s Day, but the interior is sparse and white with clean lines and open spaces. It smells delicious and because of the way it’s set up, it almost feels like you’re stepping outside instead of in.

The displays remind me that Eric hates Valentine’s Day, but I still don’t know why. It doesn’t make sense to me. But I’m not sure that’s something that I’ll be able to ask him about so soon.

There’s a woman standing there in a crisp black suit, and she’s looking me up and down. I can already see in her eyes that she doesn’t think I belong here. And I don’t, really. But I don’t see Eric anywhere. Maybe I should have just waited outside. I peek at my phone, and it’s 12:01.

My first thought is that it’s a trick and that he told me to meet him here to embarrass me. But that’s not true. My gut tells me that Eric wouldn’t do something like that. God, the men I’ve dated really are horrible people, if that’s my go-to assumption.

The woman clears her throat and takes a step forward. “Can I help you?”

“Um…no,” I say. “I’m just waiting for someone.”

She smiles in a way that’s not entirely friendly. “I’m sorry, our store is by appointment only.”

“I know, I just—”

“She’s with me,” Eric’s voice comes from behind me.

I turn and smile at him, relief flowing through me. That was probably about to get really awkward. “Hi.”

“Hello,” he says, and the smile he’s giving me puts honest to God butterflies in my stomach. Holy shit. Eric leans down and kisses my cheek softly, and a burst of heat shoots through me.

I guess that answers the question of whether or not I’ll react the same. Just the soft brush of his lips and his hand on my arm has me ready to be back in that club hallway.

“I’m sorry I’m a few minutes late,” he says. “There was some traffic. I trust that isn’t a problem?” He glances at the woman, who’s looking between him and me with a kind of dawning horror.

She’s realizing that she was about to be rude to the guest of one of her really important clients. I watch as she schools her face into a smile. “Of course, Mr. Marshall. Miss Bianca informed us you’d be stopping by. You can follow me.”

Eric takes my hand and guides me along, giving me a conspiratorial smile. The situation that he walked into isn’t lost on him. It’s my own Pretty Woman moment, minus being a hooker I guess. “I really can’t believe that I’m here.”

“Why not?”

“You know how many women want to shop at this place? I didn’t know that your sister owned it. I told my best friend I was coming here, and she nearly lost her mind.”

He laughs softly. “I’m not going to tell her that. It would go straight to her head. But I told you that I would take care of your clothes for the party, and I’m doing that. If you see anything else you like, that’s fine too.”

I tug on his hand to stop him for a second, and we fall a little behind. “Why? I don’t understand.”

He turns to face me, and he doesn’t let go of my hand. The look on his face doesn’t tell me anything. Then he leans down and kisses me. Oh. I lean into the kiss, letting him pull me closer and letting that precious heat bloom inside. God it feels good.

“I can’t lie,” he says. “I don’t know why. But there’s something here, and I want to find out what it is.”

I bite my lip. “Me too.”

“This might be too much too soon, but I’ll tell you that money means very little to me. I know that’s a privilege. But I like using it to make the lives of people in my life better. Give them things. Make them happy.”

“So you’re saying…”

“That I like buying things for people, and you need a dress. So try on whatever you like, and buy whatever you like.”

I start to laugh. “This is crazy.”

“Maybe.”

There’s another woman waiting for us along with the first, in a smaller room surrounded by mirrors. The first woman smiles at me. This time it’s overly friendly, and I can tell she’s trying to make sure that I know that she’s not judging me. That she doesn’t want to offend Eric. She gestures to the second woman. Still in a crisp black suit, but with darker hair and a naturally friendly face. “This is Anita. She’ll be helping you today with whatever you need.”

I glance at Eric, and see his mouth twitch up into a smile. He noticed her emphasis on ‘whatever’ too. “Thank you,” he says.

There’s an awkward moment when we all just stand there, and wait until the first woman—she didn’t mention her name—leaves. And it’s still a little awkwar

d after she’s gone.

“What can I help you with today,” Anita says finally.

“My family is hosting a party tomorrow,” Eric says. “Sally is a guest. She needs attire for that, and if she sees anything else she likes, she’s welcome to have it.”

I blush instinctively because this isn’t really life. People don’t actually say things like that or get chances to just try on gowns that cost thousands of dollars.

“Perfect,” Anita says. “Sally, why don’t you come with me and we’ll find you some things to try and you can tell me a little more about your style. Mr. Marshall, you can remain here for now. Refreshments will be along shortly.”

He sits down on one of the chairs, and Anita guides me through a door and into the gallery space which is large and open like the entrance. This place is huge! There are dresses on mannequins that I don’t even want to know how much they cost, and more on racks. Holy shit this isn’t happening. There’s a giddy feeling in my chest and if this actually turns out to be a dream, I really don’t want to wake up.

“Do you have an idea of what you’re looking for?” Anita asks me.

“I honestly have no idea,” I say. “Guide me. Please.”

She laughs. “Sure. What colors do you like? We’ll start there.”

“For clothes, blue, purple, red, green. Richer colors.”

“Okay,” she nods, “Do you have a preferred silhouette?”

I shake my head. “My best friend is a stylist. I wear what she tells me most of the time. Today not included.”

We both laugh. “Well, I’ll show you some things, and if anything jumps out at you, tell me.”

“That I can do.”

We walk around the showroom together, and I’m overwhelmed by the choices and fabrics and colors. It feels like there’s an infinite number of options. I wonder how long it would take for someone to try on everything in the store. Days, probably.

After a little while, we have a few dresses to try on. Some are more casual, and a couple look like they belong on a red carpet. But I’m not sure at what level I need to be dressed for this party, so I’ll let Eric tell me how fancy I need to be.