Oh, La-la!

Chapter 17. Ash

The sun is just beginning to flirt with the horizon when my alarm starts playing The Rolling Stone’s “Wild Horses.” Kayla groans and buries her face in my chest. “Five more minutes,” she mumbles.

I know I should probably insist on getting up, Kayla will panic if we’re even five minutes late walking into the office. But it feels too good lying next to her, warm and naked, feeling her breath on my skin, so I give in and hit snooze. Predictably, after our short reprieve, as the music starts up once more, she groans again and asks for another five minutes. “Sweetie,” I say gently, brushing the hair away from her face, “we’re going to be late.”

“Call in sick.”

I smile at my words from last night coming back to me. F*ck, she’s adorable. “Come on, honey, I’ll make you breakfast.”

She rolls onto her back and rubs her eyes while stretching and my d*ck twitches at the sight. “I don’t eat breakfast,” she mutters in a groggy voice before opening one eye and peering at me. “Maybe I could use your shower, though?”

“There’s an idea!” I grin at her. “Maybe we could share a shower.”

She laughs and playfully pushes me out of bed. “Then we really would be late. And, I’m guessing, still dirty.”

“The best kind of dirty, though,” I wink at her. “You sure you don’t want food? I’m making scrambled eggs.”

“Hot water is all I need right now.” She pauses before adding, “And possibly orange juice, if you have any.”

“I do indeed,” normally, I’m not this much of a morning person, but waking up next to Kayla with the memories of last night still fresh has put me in a great mood. “It’s your lucky day!”

“Hmmm… lucky night, leading to a lucky day?” she purrs. “You should pace yourself. You’ll spoil me.”

I turn and study her in the early dawn light. She’s still mostly under the covers with tousled hair and sleepy eyes. She looks like she was made to spend an entire day naked in bed. “I can’t think of anything else I’d rather do,” I say softly before leaving the room and walking down the hallway to the kitchen before I try to convince her to ignore the rest of the world and stay right where she is.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m sitting at the table, eating my eggs, when I nearly drop my fork as she comes in, freshly washed, my towel wrapped around her, smelling faintly of my soap. “Have you seen my dress?” she asks, her cheeks turning a light pink.

I motion with the fork to the back of the chair on the opposite side of the table from me. I’d found the dress in question on the floor where it had been left the night before. It was mischievous at best, but I had hoped she would be naked when she came looking for it. Seeing her wrapped in my towel turned out to be an even more alluring sight than I could have imagined.

“Thanks,” she says, taking a sip of the orange juice I had poured for her rather than reaching for her dress.

I’d been thinking while waiting for her to finish in the shower, and now I had to ask her a burning question. “So, you would’ve had to leave straight from the office to make it to class on time, right?”

“Yeah,” she nods, “especially since I needed to walk a little slower to avoid getting sweaty.”

“Huh. I’m curious,” I c**k an eyebrow at her, “when did you take your underwear off?”

She studies me over the rim of her glass with a coy smile playing on her lips. “Sweetie, if I had taken them off at work, I would’ve had them after modeling.”

I swallow hard, her meaning all too clear. I’m pretty sure I’m never getting any work done ever again now that I will constantly be wondering what she had on, or didn’t have on under her professional clothing. Even though she’d been commando yesterday, I have a feeling that the underwear she does own isn’t cotton granny panties and bulletproof bras.

My fork clatters on my plate when she drops the towel to the floor. Definitely never getting work done, I think as my eyes sweep over her.

“Seriously?” she says with a hint of laughter in her voice. “You spent an hour looking at me yesterday evening, and last night was…” she trails off as a blush spreads over her cheeks and down her chest.

“First of all, class was different. I wasn’t allowed to touch you,” I say, surprised I have the ability to form coherent sentences. “Secondly, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing you naked. Are you sure we can’t call in sick today? I’m working on a plan of what we could do all day instead of work.”

Her smirk is quickly hidden as she slips her dress over her head. I wonder how she would feel about making one day a month naked day. Maybe even once a week. She turns around and bends over to pick up the discarded towel, and I grunt in appreciation. That is a nice ass, and I can only hope she won’t get offended if I spank her later. I desperately want to see that creamy skin turn pink.

“You know how much we need to-“ she stops mid-sentence and I follow her gaze to try to figure out what distracted her. “My sculpture. What’s it doing here?”

I’d completely forgotten that I hadn’t told her I was the one that bought it that night at the gallery opening. So much had happened since then. “I need to find a better place to display it, I know.”

“You bought it?” her voice is thick with emotion I can’t quite place.

I turn my attention to the rest of my breakfast. I’m not sure why, but I feel slightly guilty. “Yeah, I did,” I tell my eggs.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see her spin around to face me, but I keep my eyes on my plate, pushing my food around with my fork. “So, what was it? Some sort of pity sale? You felt sorry for me? Like there was no way anyone would want to buy any of it?”

I wince at the hurt in her voice. I glance up at her and the feeling of guilt intensifies. How could she possibly think I bought the sculpture out of pity? “No! Nothing like that! I… I liked it,” I say and can’t believe how lame that sounded. I think the reason I didn’t tell her I was the one that bought it was I haven’t been able to find the right words to explain how it makes me feel. Beth had called me an i***t, and maybe she’d had a point.

Kayla is staring at me with her jaw slack. “You… you liked it. Ok,” she says slowly, taking deep breaths. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

I don’t want to answer, so I take a page from Beth’s book. “I’m an i***t?” I shrug with a grin. She doesn’t smile back, just continues to stare at me, waiting for the truth. I sigh and try to figure out how to tell her why I felt like I needed to buy it before anyone else had the chance. “It felt too personal to be with a stranger. And I wanted… part of you. Here. Safe.” I sigh and drag a hand through my hair. “It doesn’t make sense, I know, but I couldn’t stand not… I just wanted it. And I should have told you, it just never seemed like the right time… I don’t know. After a while, it felt like it would be awkward to tell you. Because this turned out so much better.” I huff out another sigh, annoyed with myself.

She blinks at me a few times and I’m a little worried she’s still pissed with me. “Sorry, it was just a bit of a shock,” she whispers before wandering over to the sculpture and lightly running her hand over the smooth curve of the hip.

“Obviously, I hadn’t planned last night,” I say as I get up and join her by the sculpture. “I probably would’ve figured out a way to tell you she was here if I had.”

She glances up and I’m surprised to see tears in her eyes, but she’s smiling again. “I didn’t think I’d ever see her again. I was afraid someone bought her as an investment piece.”

I smile at the raw emotion pouring out of her. “Nope,” I assure her. “She’s very much loved.”

Kayla starts to fidget. “We should get going,” she says suddenly. “We’re going to be late.”

I wrap my arms around her, needing this connection. “I’m ok with being a little late,” I say before kissing her gently. “Besides, it’s my turn in the shower.”

I shower and dress as fast as possible, and drive Kayla to her apartment building. “You can go ahead to the office,” she says as we pull up in front of the building. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“Fat chance,” I smile at her. “I’ll come in with you and we’ll drive to the office. Just tell me where to park.”

“Ash, it’s a twenty-minute walk. Fifteen if I wear flats. It’s fine, really,” she says as she reaches for the door handle. I push the button to lock the door and she huffs at me.

“Where do I park?” I grin.

She rolls her eyes, but directs me to her designated spot. “I’m surprised my neighbor’s car isn’t parked here.” I lift an eyebrow in question and she explains, “I don’t have a car, so anytime someone has a visitor that doesn’t want to park on the street, they usually use my spot. Normally, it’s not a big deal.”

I pull into the space, and get out of the car, waiting to follow Kayla to her apartment, but she just stands there, chewing her lip, looking at me with nervous eyes. Surely her apartment isn’t that messy, is it? I can’t fathom efficient, organized Kayla in a messy apartment.

“Ash, seriously, I think it would be better if we get to work… separately,” she says softly.

Finally starting to understand, I can’t help but laugh. “Kayla, we’ve walked into the office together countless times after lunch!”

“Yes, but this is different!” she insists. “This is…” she gestures between us, but either doesn’t want to say what’s on her mind, or can’t think of the word for whatever this is.

“Kayla, it will be fine, trust me,” I promise. “But if you don’t get a move on, we’ll be late, and then it really will look suspicious.”

She huffs at me, but turns and starts walking towards her building.

“I don’t know much about these things, but this sure looks like the walk of shame,” a voice calls out from the front porch.

“Good morning, Mr. McIntosh,” Kayla smiles at the elderly man sitting in a rocking chair, watching the early morning bustle. “Yes, I think this can be called a walk of shame.”

“No, it’s not,” I disagree. “A walk of shame implies a one-night stand.” I wrap an arm around Kayla’s waist, “And I promise you, this is as far from a one-night stand as it comes.”

The man, Mr. McIntosh, smiles at us, his eyes twinkling with appreciation. “Glad to hear it, son! Now, young man, you take care of our Kayla here,” my eyebrows shoot up in amusement at being referred to as a young man. “If you hurt her, I’ll find you. I’ve got connections.” He winks at me to soften the words, but I don’t doubt for a moment that he’s lying.

“Yessir,” I smile and squeeze Kayla’s waist a little tighter. “I believe you do.”

Kayla shakes her head at us with a soft laugh. “Mr. McIntosh, this is… Ash,” I notice the slight pause as though she’s not quite sure what to label our relationship. I guess that makes two of us. “Ash, Mr. McIntosh is my downstairs neighbor.” She heads through the door towards a set of stairs, but calls over her shoulder, “Sorry we can’t visit more, Mr. McIntosh. We’re going to be late for work.”

“Ahh yes, young people! Always so busy!” he returns good naturedly. “It was nice meeting you, young man,” he says to me as I follow Kayla.

“Likewise, Mr. McIntosh.”

I follow Kayla up the stairs and into her apartment, and I can’t help the smile as she ushers me inside. This space is so Kayla! The walls, at least the small patches of wall you can see, are beige, but I assume that’s because it was the color the apartment was when she moved in and she didn’t bother to change it. Almost every inch of wall space is covered in art. Mostly reproductions of everything from Hokusai’s Wave to pastoral scenes from Bourguereau and Collier’s Lady Godiva. There are a few that look like original artworks that are really good. I know she said she doesn’t do 2-D art, but I’m itching to know if she did these.

“I won’t be long,” she says as she drops her bags on the couch and sprints to the bedroom.

I manage not to scoff, but check my watch. We have twenty minutes before we’re late for work. I don’t think I’ve ever known a woman who was able to do her hair and make-up, let alone figure out what to wear in under forty minutes. I walk over to her bookcase to check out some of the titles. I’m not surprised there’s an impressive number of cheesy romances and art books. The fantasy titles are a little surprising, but it’s the books on anthropology that are a bit of a shock. “The Complete Compendium of Body Modification,” looks equally fascinating and a little intimidating. I flip the pages, but decide to put it back on the shelf when a full color picture of a man’s genitals that had been pierced and apparently scarified takes up an entire page. I shiver slightly. Why would anyone want to do that to themselves?

A soft laugh makes me turn around and I’m shocked to see Kayla looking business ready. She's pulled her hair into a clip, put on light make-up, and a skirt and blouse, looking for all the world like she’d taken all morning getting ready. I glance at my watch, it had been less than ten minutes.

“There are some weird things people do to their bodies to make themselves fit into their society’s definition of attractive,” she smirks and I know she had seen my reaction to the photo.

“I guess so,” I laugh at myself. “I just can’t fathom how anyone would be willing to go through something so painful! It’s crazy!”

She c***s her head at me. “And yet, we don’t say it’s crazy for women to get boob jobs.”

“Touché,” I muse. She has a point. “Are you ready to go?”

She nods. “Yeah, just let me fill my water bottle and we can head out.”

“If I had known how fast you can get dressed, I’d have kept you in bed longer this morning!”

She just smirks at me and goes to the kitchen to fill her water bottle.