Page 18
“Jeez.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you think Fraser regrets not fighting for her?”
“I’m not sure. He hasn’t talked to me about it much. I know he regretted getting involved with someone at work.” She pauses. “Well, with Ginger anyway, I’m not saying he’d feel the same way about you…”
“Like I said,” I tell her sadly, “he’s already told me we can’t date. And I understand. His job is very important to him, and so is mine to me.”
“Aw, but you two get on so well.”
“I know. I was curious, that’s all.”
“Well, you can always ask me anything.”
“Thanks, Elora. I appreciate it. Are you with Linc yet?”
“Yeah, he’s here. We’re going back to the Planetarium now.”
“Okay, well have fun! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
She laughs. “Thanks. See you later.”
I end the call, toss the phone onto the coffee table, and lie back again. I think about what she told me about Fraser. I’m glad he wasn’t devastated when he and Ginger broke up. That makes me feel better, for some reason. But I do feel sad to think how badly it ended for him. Of course he won’t get involved with a colleague again. It makes perfect sense, and I wouldn’t want to push him into anything that made him uncomfortable.
It’s such a shame though.
They were caught kissing a couple of times at work.I think about how exciting that must have been for them, hiding in stationery cupboards or behind exhibits and snatching forbidden kisses. What would it feel like to kiss him? Ian wasn’t big on kissing. Our lovemaking was never like how you see it in the movies. It was perfunctory, right from the start, a physical act like sneezing that I didn’t actually enjoy very much.
Elora was assaulted as a girl, and so I know she hasn’t had much sexual experience either. Zoe talks about it sometimes though, and I play along with her jokes about vibrators and positions, but the truth is that half the time I don’t know what she’s talking about. The type of sex she mentions is a mystery to me—lying in bed all day on a Sunday just kissing and touching; having a man spending hours kissing you all over; and as for orgasms… I think I’ve had one or two along the way, but they happened more by accident than intention.
Every woman deserves to be with someone who worships the ground she walks on.
I close my eyes and dream about Fraser kissing me, and wonder exactly what it would feel like to be worshiped in that way.
Chapter Five
Fraser
On Monday, I keep myself busy in the morning by attending a long meeting with the fundraising office, coming up with a list of companies and individuals we can contact to try to source new funding.
When I finally make my way back to my office, I pause in front of Louise’s desk and say, “Has Hallie been by?”
“No. Do you want to see her? I can call her up,” she suggests.
“No, no. I just w-wondered.” Jesus. I only have to think about Hallie now and The Stutter makes an appearance.
Louise’s eyes gleam. I’ve read that a manager is often closer to his personal assistant than to his wife, and while I think that’s exaggerating it, I know what they’re getting at. PAs organize both the business and personal lives of their bosses, and they often know quite intimate details about them. Louise knew about my affair with Ginger—she couldn’t not, as Ginger came to my office frequently. And while I never asked her to cover for me in so many words, Whina told me that when she questioned Louise at the hearing, she denied knowing anything about my relationship with Ginger, which was not the case.
I haven’t discussed my feelings for Hallie with her, but she observed the way I stuttered whenever Ginger was around in the early days, and she’s obviously connected the dots.
“Stop it,” I scowl.
“Yes, sir,” she replies, amused.
Mumbling to myself, I go into my office, flop into my chair, and turn to look out of the window. I honestly think I have the best view in the whole of Wellington. I can see right across the harbor to Petone to the north and Oriental Bay to the south, withthe waters of the harbor in between dotted with boats and the Interislander ferry about to head across the Cook Strait to Picton in the South Island.
Today, though, it brings me no pleasure, because my brain is driving me nuts.
“Yeah.”
“Do you think Fraser regrets not fighting for her?”
“I’m not sure. He hasn’t talked to me about it much. I know he regretted getting involved with someone at work.” She pauses. “Well, with Ginger anyway, I’m not saying he’d feel the same way about you…”
“Like I said,” I tell her sadly, “he’s already told me we can’t date. And I understand. His job is very important to him, and so is mine to me.”
“Aw, but you two get on so well.”
“I know. I was curious, that’s all.”
“Well, you can always ask me anything.”
“Thanks, Elora. I appreciate it. Are you with Linc yet?”
“Yeah, he’s here. We’re going back to the Planetarium now.”
“Okay, well have fun! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
She laughs. “Thanks. See you later.”
I end the call, toss the phone onto the coffee table, and lie back again. I think about what she told me about Fraser. I’m glad he wasn’t devastated when he and Ginger broke up. That makes me feel better, for some reason. But I do feel sad to think how badly it ended for him. Of course he won’t get involved with a colleague again. It makes perfect sense, and I wouldn’t want to push him into anything that made him uncomfortable.
It’s such a shame though.
They were caught kissing a couple of times at work.I think about how exciting that must have been for them, hiding in stationery cupboards or behind exhibits and snatching forbidden kisses. What would it feel like to kiss him? Ian wasn’t big on kissing. Our lovemaking was never like how you see it in the movies. It was perfunctory, right from the start, a physical act like sneezing that I didn’t actually enjoy very much.
Elora was assaulted as a girl, and so I know she hasn’t had much sexual experience either. Zoe talks about it sometimes though, and I play along with her jokes about vibrators and positions, but the truth is that half the time I don’t know what she’s talking about. The type of sex she mentions is a mystery to me—lying in bed all day on a Sunday just kissing and touching; having a man spending hours kissing you all over; and as for orgasms… I think I’ve had one or two along the way, but they happened more by accident than intention.
Every woman deserves to be with someone who worships the ground she walks on.
I close my eyes and dream about Fraser kissing me, and wonder exactly what it would feel like to be worshiped in that way.
Chapter Five
Fraser
On Monday, I keep myself busy in the morning by attending a long meeting with the fundraising office, coming up with a list of companies and individuals we can contact to try to source new funding.
When I finally make my way back to my office, I pause in front of Louise’s desk and say, “Has Hallie been by?”
“No. Do you want to see her? I can call her up,” she suggests.
“No, no. I just w-wondered.” Jesus. I only have to think about Hallie now and The Stutter makes an appearance.
Louise’s eyes gleam. I’ve read that a manager is often closer to his personal assistant than to his wife, and while I think that’s exaggerating it, I know what they’re getting at. PAs organize both the business and personal lives of their bosses, and they often know quite intimate details about them. Louise knew about my affair with Ginger—she couldn’t not, as Ginger came to my office frequently. And while I never asked her to cover for me in so many words, Whina told me that when she questioned Louise at the hearing, she denied knowing anything about my relationship with Ginger, which was not the case.
I haven’t discussed my feelings for Hallie with her, but she observed the way I stuttered whenever Ginger was around in the early days, and she’s obviously connected the dots.
“Stop it,” I scowl.
“Yes, sir,” she replies, amused.
Mumbling to myself, I go into my office, flop into my chair, and turn to look out of the window. I honestly think I have the best view in the whole of Wellington. I can see right across the harbor to Petone to the north and Oriental Bay to the south, withthe waters of the harbor in between dotted with boats and the Interislander ferry about to head across the Cook Strait to Picton in the South Island.
Today, though, it brings me no pleasure, because my brain is driving me nuts.
Table of Contents
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