E-Beth Ch. 01

By the time the glass tumbler arrived, Grant and I exchanged a few more flirtatious comments. I have to admit, I was still a little defensive, and when he found a clever way to slip in a new compliment about my looks, I raised my eyebrows and snapped rather testily, "That kind of comment often get you into a girl's panties?"

His eyes tightened, and I immediately felt bad for my reaction. As patient as Grant was being, he didn't deserve my scorn. I sighed and apologized, "I'm sorry. I don't mean to come off like such a bitch. I-"

"Don't worry about it," he soothed, leaning forward. "I get it. You're coming off a bad breakup with a callous boyfriend. A girl has every right to be extra cautious after that."

My eyebrows raised and I glanced down, where he'd put his hand on my knee.

He took the hint and pulled his hand away. "Sorry. I didn't mean anything by it."

"You were just talking about 'caution'..."

"Fair enough." He leaned back against the bar and rested his elbow on it, taking a sip of his beer. "Like I said, I didn't come here to put any pressure on you or anything. I really just want to get to know you better."

I shook my head. "But to what end? I told myself I wouldn't go out with guys like you anymore."

"Guys like me?" he asked curiously.

I sighed and flashed him a wan smile. "Handsome. Charming. Sexy."

He couldn't help but grin, with a twinkle in his eye. "'Sexy'?"

"Shut up. You know you're sexy." I exhaled again and frowned. "Guys like you always end up hurting me."

Slowly, deliberately, and with enough obvious intent that I could see him coming all the way, he put his hand over the back of mine and rubbed it gently. "Not all guys are alike. Won't you at least give me the chance to prove it to you?"

I waffled.

"C'mon, are you really going to hold my *appearance* against me? If I were short, fat, and bald, would that make you happier? Would you let me get to know you *then*?"

I cracked a smile and bashfully glanced down. I wanted to believe him. Yeah, handsome, charming bad boys had already taken me, used me, and spit me out. I *liked* his type. They couldn't ALL be bad, could they? And if I'd really found the Mr. Right, the kind of guy who LOOKED like my ideal AND had a heart of gold, would I ever forgive myself if I missed him?

I wanted to believe.

So taking a deep breath, I slid my right hand out from under his and cocked it in a handshake grip. "Hi. My name is Elizabeth. I'm 25. I graduated from Uni three-and-a-half years ago, and I've worked at Argen ever since. I'm a workaholic chemist and my dream in this life is to develop a cure for cancer."

A smile slowly slid onto Grant's face. And after a moment's thought, with that twinkle in his dark green eyes as he looked at me, he shook my proffered hand. "Hello. I'm Grant. I'm 31. I was engaged, up until she broke my heart last year and called off the wedding. And now I'm here, in a new town, looking for a fresh start."

I shook his hand, feeling my heart flutter... and my panties dampen. "Pleased to meet you."

****

*-- NOVEMBER 2006 --*

"Have you slept with him yet?"

"Of course not!" I hissed beneath my breath. I darted my eyes to the left, looking to the open door to make sure Stella and I were alone in the coffee break room. "We're not even dating."

Stella bumped her hip into mine, an appraising look on her face. "You said the two of you went to The Steakhouse Friday night."

I blushed. "Yeah..."

"Alone."

"Yeah..."

"Honey, that's called a 'date'." Stella bumped my hip again.

"One date. That's not 'dating'."

"And you met at Monahan's the Friday before."

"That's the bar." I rolled my eyes. "With everyone... including YOU... around."

"Are you saying you just haven't had the proper opportunity?" Stella giggled.

"No. I'm just not ready yet."

"Why not?"

"Seriously?" I glared at my friend. "This soon after Chad?"

Stella shrugged and rolled her eyes away. "I'm just saying... You've been pretty wound up lately. You just seem like a girl who needs to get laid..."

I stood up straight, stirring my coffee. "Goodbye, Stella."

She smirked and sipped at her own mug as I turned and walked away, heading back to my lab. "Go get 'em, honey."

****

"2 milliliters."

"Got it." Steve twisted the stopcock, carefully letting out exactly 2 milliliters of the solution out of the burette. When he closed it again, the bespectacled, slightly-balding man looked up at me and remarked off-hand. "So word around the building is that you're dating the new guy in Marketing."

My fingers tightened around the beaker I was just about to pour, and after steadying my hand, I tilted the beaker back upright and set it down. And with raised eyebrows, I shot a glare at Steve and asked, "Excuse me?"

My middle-aged lab technician was struggling to contain a guffaw as he looked at the expression on my face. With mirthful eyes, he finally grinned and shrugged. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger."

"Where did you hear that?"

"In the lunchroom. C'mon, E-Beth. It's a big company but news still travels fast."

"We're not *dating*."

"But you *have* been out with him, right?"

Blushing, I looked down and nodded. "Just once."

"Hey, hey." Steve reached over and patted my back. "No need to be embarrassed. It's not like either of you report to the other. You're not breaking any rules."

"I know..." I sighed. "But dating a guy in my company?"

Steve snorted. "Where else are you going to meet guys? You spend all your time here."

I chuckled lightly at that. "I go out," I said defensively.

"Hey, there's nothing to be ashamed of. Grant's a nice guy. Did I tell you he joined the softball team? Good pitcher. We've needed one ever since Karl busted his knee. And you'd look good together."

I raised my eyebrows. "Look good together?"

Steve smiled and reached up to pat his own balding head. "Grant's tall, young, and handsome. You're beautiful, E-Beth. Yeah, you two look good together."

Now I was blushing again. And then I sighed. "I don't know. It's only been a month since Chad."

Steve shrugged. "Hey, I'm not trying to tell you what to do. But you deserve to relax a bit. When's your next date?"

I exhaled and reached up, running my fingers through my hair. "Tomorrow night."

My lab technician smiled. "Have fun."

****

"Up here, Teddy."

The cute boy with the messy hair blushed sheepishly and pulled his gaze up from my chest. He tapped his clipboard with his index finger and grinned. "Sorry, E-Beth."

Feeling naughty, I crossed my arms beneath my breasts and squeezed, just a bit. The movement had the effect of pushing my boobs together and upwards, and as I leaned over and dropped my elbows onto the countertop, Teddy must have been given a *spectacular* view.

The clipboard hit the floor with a clatter. And an embarrassed and panicked Teddy quickly bent over to scoop it back up. "Uh, sorry," he reflexively apologized.

I grinned, a twinkle in my eye. "Don't be." Oh, it was too *easy* to tease this boy. He was definitely cute in his own dorky sort of way. But he was also three years younger than me, just a kid barely out of college.

A couple of minutes later, he returned with a tray of vials. And almost nervously he stated, "So I hear you're dating the new guy in Marketing."

I chuckled and looked down. "Guess you could say that."

"You guess?"

I rolled my eyes. "Why is everyone at this company so obsessed with my sex life?"

Teddy's eyebrows popped up and he raised his hands. "Whoa... wasn't asking about your sex life," he stammered defensively. "Just saying that people said you two were dating."

I sighed, and cracked a smile. "Fine. We're dating. Well, it's been exactly two dates. Our third one is tonight."

Teddy whistled, a gleam coming into his eyes.

I caught the gleam and shot him a look. "What?"

Blushing, the poor kid stammered again, "Oh, nothing, nothing."

"Teddy, *what*?"

Still bashful, he winced and looked down. "Really, I don't mean anything by it."

My voice rose a few decibels. "Mean anything *by what*?"

Teddy exhaled slowly and then looked at me with a little smirk. Finally, he shrugged. "Third date. Guys usually look forward to that one because it usually means they're gonna get lucky."

I crossed my arms again, this time *over* my breasts to block the view. "Do guys seriously think that?" I asked coldly.

Teddy's blush now ran from his forehead all the way down his neck into his white lab coat. "Sorry. Really, I don't mean anything by it. I'm sure that you and Grant are... I mean... What you guys do is your business..."

Setting my jaw, I frowned and shook my head. "I'm NOT sleeping with him!" I barked. And then I snatched up the tray and spun on my heel, marching away.

****

I stood outside my front door on this Friday evening. The November air was cold, a gust of wind rushing up to send a chill into my bones. But I didn't feel it. For one thing, I had a second thick coat wrapped around me, an oversized men's peacoat that did wonders for insulating me from the unexpected frost. And for another thing, the owner of the coat currently had his arms wrapped around me, his lips pressed firmly against mine.

It had been a productive date. Grant and I had spent the first two dates getting to know each other, waxing philosophic about where we were in our lives and the things we enjoyed doing. Both of us had stayed away from hot-button issues like politics, religion, and past relationships, careful not to offend the other at this early stage while we were still feeling each other out.

But this date had gotten a lot more personal. The taboo topic of past relationships was broken, and long after our meals were cleared away, the two of us had stayed in our intimate booth reminiscing about past loves.

I told Grant about being an ugly, chubby nerd growing up as a teenager. I'd lived a pretty sheltered life, and not really made any effort on my physical appearance while preferring to concentrate on my academics. I told him the story of my first boyfriend, and I made Grant laugh as I recalled the infamous pH balance chemistry lab experiment where David managed to spill acid into his own face. I talked about David pulling me out of my shell, then dating in college before we broke up and he ended up getting engaged to my college roommate. In fact, I spoke so highly of my ex-boyfriend that Grant started complaining a bit, only half-joking that he was sick of listening to me spout David's praises.

I wasn't the only one talking of past loves. It took a little persuasion on my part, but Grant told me the story of his ex-fiancée. He'd met Maggie in a bar at Mardi Gras, actually. She'd told him her name was Tiffany, at the time. What began as a one-night stand turned into something more. They were together for three years and were ready to walk down the aisle when he came home one day to find her mid-coital with his brother, of all people. And after the fallout, he'd been so distraught he decided to just pick up his entire life and move. The Director of Marketing at Argen had been an old friend, and gave him the new opportunity. And when Grant spoke in such a haunted voice about being all alone in the world, scared to trust anyone ever again, the maternal instinct inside made me want to take him home and show him a world of love right then and there.

We got pretty close. I'd had Grant bring me home, and now here we were, standing on my doorstep in that picture perfect post-date embrace. I'd shivered upon exiting the car, and my date had immediately taken the coat off his own back to bundle me for the short walk up to the door. But chivalry and male bravado weren't enough to keep Grant warm against that gust of wind. He shivered in my arms, and I could tell it wasn't only from our kiss.

Giggling, I pulled away and then started to pull his coat off my shoulders. I held it out to him, and almost gratefully he took it from my hands while shrugging himself into the heated fabric. But at the same time, I caught the look of disappointment flickering across his face. And impulsively, I asked the question I knew he was hoping for. "Would you like to come inside?"

There was no misunderstanding the grin that spread across Grant's face. And even though his jaw must have wanted to chatter due to the cold, he managed to calmly reply, "I'd love to."

They say a guy on a date is always wondering whether or not he's going to get lucky; the girl already knows. Well, despite what "they" say, I honestly didn't know. I mean, I *wanted* to, but I really didn't know if I was going to go through with it.

So despite the husk in my voice when I'd invited Grant inside, I played it coy for the next few minutes. I didn't grab a bottle of wine; I'd had enough of it at the restaurant already. Instead, I made us both coffee and then returned to the couch, purposefully sitting myself down with a good foot of space between us. The simple fact was: despite my impulsive decision to invite Grant inside, and thus lead him to believe everything else such an invitation implies, I wasn't sure what I wanted to do.

Oh, I was horny. Grant had that unique quality of rugged good looks and natural charisma that made me weak in the knees and damp between my thighs. He carried himself with a smooth confidence and kissed me with such passion and skill that I just knew he'd be dynamite in bed. And I certainly wanted to get laid. I'd found out long ago, courtesy of David, that sex can be really, *really* fun and feel really, *really* damn good. I hadn't gotten laid since that time I'd spontaneously decided to fly out to David's and Amber's place. And my entire body was *quivering* in anticipation of getting a royal shagging.

But I was nervous. It had only been about six weeks since I'd kicked Chad to the curb. It seemed long enough, but was that ever enough time to get over a relationship? I knew I liked Grant. He was witty, charming, and made me laugh every time we went out together. He obviously appreciated my physical beauty, and the way he undressed me with his eyes every time he looked at me made me feel wonderfully attractive. I always worried that my hips were too big or my thighs too thick and my face not beautiful enough. I knew I was no supermodel, like Amber. But the way Grant looked at me made me believe I just might be pretty close.

Yeah, Chad had hurt me. So did Vic before him, and Marcus before *him*. All were handsome, charming, silver-tongued devils, like Grant. Already I'd promised myself 'No more'. But I just couldn't help myself when Grant had started his pursuit.

To be fair, Grant himself had done me no wrong. Yeah, he'd pressed a little bit, physically, getting kinda touchy feely with the goods at whatever opportunities he'd been presented. It was a bit like being in school again, attack and defend, with a boy clearly interested in getting me naked as soon as possible and me playing the gatekeeper. I couldn't blame him for it. He was an aroused male. And it turned me on to know that he was aroused by me.

Grant further proved this point when he set his coffee down and took my cheeks in his hands. I felt a flutter in my stomach as he brought our faces together, his lips burnishing mine before parting them slightly and pressing his tongue into my mouth. My senses were awash with the amusing juxtaposition of his male muskiness filling my nostrils, his warm fingers on my cheeks, and the flavor of French Roasted Kona pushing against my tongue. I heard the keening moan welling up from the bottom of his throat as his passion increased. And with a powerful, urgent strength, he pushed me against the backrest while pivoting his body to loom over me.

I said before that I'd been wondering whether or not Grant was going to get lucky tonight. I had my answer a few seconds later. And the answer was: no.

My blood had been boiling and my panties were damp. But then I felt the hand that had been on my ribcage slide upwards to cup the rounded curvature of my left breast. A second later, Grant's palm was directly over my boob, rubbing against the erect nipple. His fingers closed around it with a harsh pressure that betrayed just how close this strong, aroused man was to losing control. And the simple fact was: I didn't know what would happen if he did.

"Grant-Grant-Grant," I stammered in a "stop" tone, pulling my face away from his.

With his eyes still closed, the panting man continued to maul my breasts for an extra few seconds, enough that I had to reach down with my own hands to grip his wrists and pry him off me.

"Ohh, E-Beth..." he groaned pitifully.

"I'm sorry," I apologized. "I'm not ready for this."

"E-Beth, *please*," he rasped, desperation in his voice. He quickly jerked his wrists free of my hands, snapped up *my* wrists just as suddenly, and pinned my arms back against the backrest.

"Grant!" I cried in a panic as I realized I'd lost control. "You promised no pressure," I whimpered, my eyes wide.

"Fuck that! We've been dancing around each other for *weeks*! We're not children! I mean, come ON!" he seethed, gripping my wrists a little harder and pressing them deeper against the backrest.

"Grant!" I whined pitifully, pushing back with my arms to ward him away from me. And in a quieter voice, I simpered, "Grant, you're hurting me..."

Grimacing, he didn't let go of me right away. Instead, he bent his head, growled deep in his throat, and physically shoved my wrists against the backrest one final time. But as soon as he did so, he let go of me and then quickly whirled off the couch, getting to his feet.

I immediately felt bad. Yeah, I'd started to freak out when he'd begun manhandling me, but I still felt like it was entirely my fault. I'd led him on this entire time, invited him into my house even. And I was perfectly aware that men can only control their impulses so much. So even though the skin of my wrists felt rubbed raw and maybe even bruised, I was the one who sat up and apologized. "Grant, I'm sorry. I'm just not ready for this yet. Please... please, understand."

Standing a few feet away from me, his left arm across his chest and the knuckles of his right hand mashed to his chin like Rodin's "The Thinker", the tall, well-built and handsome man had his eyes closed as he took deep, elongated breaths to calm himself. He didn't respond right away.

"Grant... Please..."

"It's okay. I get it," he finally replied, not looking at me. "You kept telling me that you needed time after getting out of a bad relationship. I didn't listen. And I know I've been pushing you a bit. *I'm* sorry."

"It's not your fault."

Looking up at the ceiling, he took a deep breath and then wordlessly went over to the coat rack, retrieving his peacoat.

"Grant?" I queried, a worried tone in my voice.

"I'll see you at work," he replied a little brusquely.

"Grant?" I asked in the same worried tone. "Are we okay?"

Shrugging into his coat, he glanced at me only momentarily before shrugged. "Sure." And then grimacing once more, a world of disappointment on his face, he turned to the door. "I'll see you later."

And then he was gone.

****

"So you STILL haven't slept with him?"

"No."

"But what *happened*?"

"I said drop it, Stella."

"Aren't you horny?"

"Of *course*!" I hissed and dropped my forehead into my open palm. Stella and I were in the privacy of my office. But even with the door closed, I felt just a little uncomfortable using words like "horny" at my workplace.

Stella, on the other hand, had no such qualms. She casually leaned back into the wing chair, smirking and shaking her head. "Little Davie must be getting quite the workout."

I rolled my eyes. "I should never have told you the name of my vibrator."

Stella giggled. "I just find it funny you named him after your ex-boyfriend. And to call him 'little'. Mine's named 'Kong'."