Chapter 2

He smiled as she surreptitiously inspected him while giving directions. He had been trying to think of an occupation for himself, and had just about settled on gas-jockey, when he remembered the car he was driving. He'd need a job that would explain his extreme wealth and large amounts of free time.

He also needed to name himself- she was bound to ask sooner or later.

"What did you say your name was?"

Or sooner. Think quick.

"Greg," he said, and cleared his throat to buy some time after being ripped out of his reverie. "Greg Dumas, I'm a software developer, sort of."

She chuckled politely, "... sort of?"

"Well, I don't actually do a whole lot of software developing anymore, but I still collect a paycheque," he smiled.

"Must be nice."

"Hey, I've done my time in the trenches."

They pulled up to the curb in front of her apartment block and he pulled down the sun visor where a few business cards where stashed. He passed one to her.

"'Director of Technology?'" she read, "Wow, you must be a computer genius."

Now it was his turn to chuckle politely, "I prefer the term 'geek' if you don't mind."

Laughing more genuinely, she dropped the card into her purse and got out of the car.

Outside the car, Chantal took a breath and decided to go for it. She poked her head through the door and looked at Greg. There was definitely something about him- something that made her want to take chances.

"So, um, are you going to come up?" She smiled, holding her breath.

It was completely out of character for her to be the one asking a guy up to her apartment, especially one she'd just met. More than just un-ladylike, it was also dangerous. Despite the fancy business cards, she felt like he was hiding something. For all she knew, he could be some kind of weird rapist that liked to take his time making a move. That would make it worse, maybe. On the other hand, she thought, maybe he really is a computer geek and hasn't had that much experience with girls. In fact, now that she thought of it, she was sure that the only thing she'd ever noticed since they met was a slight awkwardness on his part. It was as if he were new to the city, or country, or something. Actually, it was cute. And so was he, now that she realized it. Lately she'd been on the border of independence and loneliness, and he was definitely worth checking out. Maybe he had long-term potential. She bit her lip, anticipating his answer.

"Sure," he said without hesitation, killing the engine. She smiled and a wave of relief passed over her.

Her apartment was decorated in the typical mid- twenties, post-B.A. style- completely inoffensive, yet entirely unremarkable.

They sat on her futon, drank camomile and talked. Chantal had reached some sort of conclusion about Greg and seemed very comfortable around him now. She did most of the talking as she told him about her roller coaster ride of an education, ending with her at the same coffee shop job she started in high school. She was now considering a career in aromatherapy, or maybe massage. With her psychology degree, she could also go back to university for a few more years and maybe get a job as a school guidance counsellor, but she was still paying off her student loans as it was.

He listened to her life story, and continued his internal debate on whether to tell her the whole truth or not. It had been his intention when he chased her out of the coffee shop to be completely honest, but when it came down to it, he chickened out. Maybe he would just see where he could go with this, and give himself some time to work up the nerve.

Nodding at the right places to show his attentiveness, he pulled out a small bag of pot and a small brass pipe. He kept one eye on her as he filled the bowl and grabbed a lighter laying on the coffee table next to a scented candle.

He was just about to spark it up when he suddenly remembered his manners.

"Oh, sorry," he interrupted, "do you mind?"

"No, not at all- go ahead," but she seemed a bit apprehensive.

He sparked the lighter and drew the flame down through some bud. She sat silent for a few seconds watching a thin plume of smoke curl up from the pipe.

"You smoke up?" he asked, holding his breath.

She hadn't smoked marijuana since her first year at university. She'd partied a lot that year, had a great time, and met a lot of people. But during the spring exams, she'd realized how much work it took to do well at university. After that year, she'd replaced most of the fun in her life with a sober commitment to her studies.

But she wasn't in university anymore.

And she really wanted him to like her.

"Sure."

He passed the pipe over to her and she smoked some.

They slowly finished off the bowl over more tea and talk. She lit a few of her scented candles as evening came, and the rest of the apartment grew dark, leaving them in a cozy halo of candlelight.

Chantal was feeling giddy now, mostly from the weed, but partly because she was starting to really like Greg. He was polite but relaxed, and clearly intelligent.

She noticed more and more the way his jawbone was accentuated in the ethereal lighting. She noticed he had strong, thick wrists, but his fingers looked soft and trim. She noticed how full and dark his eyelashes were and how the bottom lid drew up slightly when he laughed or smiled.

She noticed all these things and she leaned closer to him.

As they talked, they inched closer and closer together until, sitting cross-legged on the futon, their knees were almost touching.

A lull in the conversation came naturally, and for a moment the couple sat in silence, each looking into the other's eyes.

The silence drew itself out and Chantal began to feel a fluttering in the pit of her stomach as she realized that they'd reached the breaking point.

She was determined not to screw it up, but was unsure of how to proceed. She wondered if he might think she was easy if she made a move, but if he didn't make a move, he might think that she just thinks of him as a 'friend' and nothing more.

Uncertainty tore at her insides. Her pulse began to pick up and adrenaline began to leak into her bloodstream.

The smile on his face faded just a little, as he got just serious enough to lean in towards her.

Chantal still wasn't sure if she should reciprocate just yet, after all, she didn't want to look too eager.

He brought his hand up to her cheek and gently stroked down to her chin. His touch was as soft as her skin and he encouraged her forward. She finally gave in to her desire and allowed him to draw her lips into his.

His lips were warm and soft, and as their mouths opened, her tongue slipped between them to meet his.

She slid her hands around the back of his neck and pulled his face tight against hers. Although her eyes were closed, she could still feel them roll back into her head with pleasure as she drew a breath and caught his scent.

The only word that could come close to describing his scent was 'man.' It wasn't perspiration, or cologne- at least, not entirely- but something more. It was that scent that sealed her fate for the night. Her nipples stood out and felt as though they were going to burst. Her breasts were aching to be stroked, and her entire crotch was on fire.