Bottled Library Water Fountain Water

8: New Territory

The next few weeks are spent in a stupor of lust. They’re still keeping it casual, per her request not to label anything, but they’re inseparable on the weekends.

It's been absolute bliss. Except for the fact that Elliot has some news he’s been sitting on that will have a big impact on their foreseeable future and he hasn’t found the right moment to tell her.

He decides to do it over dinner this Friday.

E: We still on for tomorrow night? F: Absolutely!

They meet up after work for dinner at their favorite spot and catch up on the week. After a few drinks he gets the courage to tell her.

“Do you remember that promotion I was mentioning a few weeks back, when we first met?”

“Yeah, of course, it was all you could talk about. And the reason you work so much that all we have are the weekends.”

“Well yeah, I knew it was going to be a big commitment at the beginning, especially since I still have to prove myself—”

“I think you’ve proven yourself plenty—”

“I think I’m getting there. But anyways, there’s something I have to tell you.”

The seriousness in his voice lets her know to close her mouth and listen.

“One of the new accounts I’m on requires our team to be onsite. It's not a permanent relocation, but it will be for a while.”

She remains quiet, struggling to process it.

“What does that mean?” she finally asks softly, breaking the thick cloud of tension between them.

“Well… they said two and a half months.”

“Two months?”

“And a half.”

She rolls her eyes at his clarification, letting him know, yeah, I got that.

“Wow. That’s...through the holidays.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll be on-call on the weekends too, so they’re putting me up in an apartment for the duration of the project.”

The brightness in her eyes dim. She sits in thought for a while, the silence between them easy yet heavy.

“When do you leave? How much time do we have?”

“Two weeks. I’ll be gone from early November to the end of January.”

She has no words, just taking it all in.

“I’ll call you every night I promise.”

"No it's not that, it's just—” She goes silent as she weighs the situation.

They’ve been “not-dating” for just over a month. They’ll be apart longer than they’ve been together. In Elliot’s head they’re dating. He’s accepted she’s still not ready to label it, but she’s his girlfriend. He knows they can get through this.

She, however, is less confident. To her, this is still temporary. She maintains in her mind once he gets all his ‘virgin practice’ out of the way, he’ll be itching to experience new people. New bodies.

They both share an inner thought: Maybe this will be good for them.

He thinks this is an opportunity to prove to her that he’s serious about wanting to be in a relationship. That it isn’t just about him losing his virginity to her, and the time apart will prove they can build their relationship without physical intimacy and it can be just as strong as the sex part.

She thinks this is an opportunity to set him free—allow him to date around in a new city with people he’ll never see again. She presents it as the perfect free pass. He’ll sow some wild oats and if he decides he still wants her when he gets back, then maybe she’ll consider labeling things.

“I can’t believe you’re still on this. I don’t need to sow any oats. I don’t need to experiment with other people. You’ve let me try whatever I’ve wanted to try— I don’t feel like I'm missing out on anything. What will it take for you to understand that?”

“I hear what you’re saying. I really do, but there’s this part of me that will never stop wondering what if it's better with someone else? You could be missing out on the best sex of your life because you settled for a bored girl flirting on Tinder.”

He rolls his eyes toward the ceiling and lets out a grunt of frustration.

"Maybe this isn’t even about me,” he says almost to himself. “Do you want to play the field a little more?"

"What? No!"

"Maybe you miss having a guy who can give you new experiences instead of the other way around."

"That's not what I'm saying at all. I don't want to see anyone else."

"Well that makes two of us."

She sees what he's trying to do. Reverse psychology is her forte, it's a big reason she's leading her sales team. When she looks in his eyes she feels how effective it can be on the receiving end. But despite his protests, this is about him.

“Please just think about it, okay? I want you to go away being open to experiences. I'm not saying you have to go scroll through Tinder and seek out whoever is a mile away from you. I’m just saying if you meet someone and it seems like you two are hitting it off, don’t hesitate on my account. If a hookup opportunity arises, take it. Okay?”

“Will you drop this if I say ‘okay’?”

“Yes,” she replies after a moment.

“Okay.“

///

They spend the remaining two weeks like the previous four, seeing each other as much as they can inside the bedroom and out. They’ve relaxed into a comfortable sexual routine and he spends foreplay going down on her, perfecting his performance. He wasn’t sure he’d like it, but he’s almost obsessed with it. She sometimes has to guide him up by the chin to move onto the main course. Just the thought of eating her out will pop into his mind at work and he has to take a walk to distract himself from getting too turned on.

That’s the part that has him a little worried. Usually on those days, he gets to see her after work, gets to taste her, gets to hold her. But in a short while, he won’t have that. He’ll be in a new city, new apartment, no friends, no girlfriend—sorry—no [not] girlfriend. Probably a little frustrated, a little lonely, and on those days when all he can think about is sliding a finger into her while lapping up her juices, he won’t be able to come home and make it a reality.

Its not just the sex he’ll miss—its the closeness, the touch, the feeling wanted and needed.

///

Before they know it, he's boarding his flight and texting her that he'll call her as soon as he lands.

It's mid November and the weather is about the same as it is in New York, albeit a little windier. His apartment is right in the heart of downtown. It's great for his commute and happy hour, but on the weekends most of the restaurants are closed. Meals on the weekends are hard to come by but, luckily, he finds his collection of local spots to frequent during his long hours. He's got his favorite chinese place that can often cover lunch and dinner with leftovers, a sandwich shop for when he wants something quick and filling, and of course he wouldn't survive without the corner coffee shop. The barista there seems to work the same crazy hours he does because she's always there. She's already memorized his drink order, often has it waiting for him even before he's ordered. It's little things like that which make him feel a little less like a stranger in this city.

He facetimes his [not] girlfriend as often as he can. Usually after he hits the coffee shop on his way home before starting a long night of work. By Elliot's third week there, a detail on his caffeine fix catches her eye on their video chats: the name written on his coffee cup.

It started as ‘Elliot’ but the last few nights it's become progressively genial. For a few days it was ‘El’, then just ‘E. ‘Elli’ was next and yesterday she noticed ‘Elliota’. Not the most creative name, she thought, but a nickname nonetheless.

She assumes the guys at the office have been joking around and ordering his coffee with silly names so she hasn't mentioned it. Until tonight.

"El Toro, huh?" She asks when she sees the new nickname. "You top bull at the office, now?" she teases.

"Huh?" he asks, confused.

"Your drink. The name they wrote is ‘El Toro’. Ya having fun with the guys?"

He turns the cup around looking for the name and he chuckles. "Oh. That's funny. No, no, the barista knows my order so it's waiting for me when I stop in. I guess she wrote that. I never even noticed, she just hands it to me when I walk in."

"Impressive," she says, her face matching her words.

"Yeah, she's really friendly. She's got this unique tattoo on her wrist and I asked her about it the first time I went in there. I guess most people don't ask so she appreciated that—we chat a little when I go in."

"That's nice. She sounds nice." She meant those words, but she also felt a tug that there was something more. She was writing cute nicknames on his cups. Now that she thinks about it, she could have sworn one of the 'Elliots' had a heart over the i. And the ‘El Toro’ today includes a winky face.

"Yeah. She is." Elliot didn't think anything of it, he rarely noticed if someone was giving him attention. He only had eyes for his [not] girlfriend. It hadn't even crossed his mind that the barista was doing anything other than what she was doing for every other customer.

She raises an eyebrow mumbling an "Alright," before moving on to other topics: her work, his long days, what she's been spending her time doing, and what he's been able to see in the city on the rare occasions he's not working.

///

Despite knowing it would be hard to be away from her, he didn’t anticipate how hard it would be to quit sex cold turkey. He assumed it would be relatively easy to go back to not having sex. But going from having no sex to having sex several times a week, and now back to no sex, it turns out it's not as easy as he imagined. Sex is on his mind. A lot.

That said, those first few weeks apart went pretty well. They talked almost every single day, connecting as often as they could. Flirting texts throughout the day and facetime before bed.

But something starts to shift over the next couple weeks. They can’t seem to connect as often, and the mid day texts all but stop. They both have been busy with work. He’s overwhelmed with the project and managing his team. She’s had to entertain clients with after-work drinks or dinners. It’s the busy season at her company and being in sales means a lot of schmoozing. When she’s not schmoozing clients, she’s rekindled her social calendar to keep busy so she won’t miss Elliot as much.

When Thanksgiving comes around, she visits her grandparents in the country. Reception sucks and there’s no wifi, so she can only manage to send him emails on the days she drives into town, letting him know she misses him and how country life is faring.

When she’s back in town they still keep missing each other, barely getting out a text here or there. It seems he’s busiest at night, configuring the application for the customer to make sure he meets his deliverables.

He’s overwhelmed, tired, overworked, and run down. He misses her touch. Her body. Her comfort.

She’s bored and lonely (a trait that got her into this [not] relationship in the first place). She continues to occupy her nights with her girlfriends, filling in the time apart. She doesn’t want to come off as needy, but there’s this aching feeling that he’s been a little distant, and she’s not sure if it's just work or something else.

She shoots him a text when she gets home from work, slipping out of her work clothes and plopping on the bed.

F: Will we talk tonight? Might meet up with the girls later and grab a bite. Shouldn’t be out too late.

She then scrolls her messages and sends another to her girlfriend group chat.

F: Where are you guys meeting up?

While she awaits their response she rests her head on her pillow and cycles through the apps on her phone catching up on new posts and tweets.

///

By the time he finishes work, he’s so worn out he can’t even bring himself to write out a text. He just wants to turn it all off and put the week behind him. He knows she’ll be out with the girls, so he figures he'll just talk to her in the morning.

He stops by the café on his way home, shortly before closing like he normally does and his favorite Barista is there, like she normally is.

“The usual, Elliot?”

“You know it.”

“This can’t be sustainable. You’ve been stocking up on caffeine at 8pm every night this week — what could possibly need you awake at all hours?”

“Well, to be honest, I got all the work done, I think I’m now just addicted to this timeslot,” he chuckles at the irony.

“You sure it's just that?” She asks flirtingly, and he realizes for the first time, she’s been coming onto him.

“Listen, I’m gonna go out on a limb here. And if I’ve read this wrong, tell me. But I’m closing in a few. Should be done in 15 minutes. You wanna get a drink?"

He considers her offer, thinking it's friendly enough. They’ve become chummy over the past few weeks and it would be nice to make some friends in the city.

“You know what? I’ve had a crazy week and I want to put it all behind me. If you know a good bar, I’m down.”

At the bar, they get to know each other a little, conversation flowing naturally. It all feels comfortable and familiar, not forced. They spend the next two hours there enjoying each other's company. He’s missed a call and a text, but she knows he’s had a busy week.

Four drinks later, they’re a bit past tipsy and all night she’s been putting a hand on his knee or on his shoulder, laughing every time he says something not particularly funny.

“This was a lot of fun, but I should probably get going,” he comments after pulling out his card to pay the tab.

“This might be kind of forward but—” without finishing her sentence she leans in and kisses him. It’s natural and soft yet full of passion. His mind is blank, unable to even process the fact that this woman is kissing him, and not only that, she’s holding the back of his neck deepening the kiss. And he’s matching it, eager for more, not letting go.

They make out in the bar for several minutes, neither aware of anyone else around them. The waitress comes over and returns his card when they finally realize what's been happening.

“You wanna get out of here? My place is across the street," she questions, hopeful.

He doesn't even hesitate. She’s sexy and tender, and sweet. He lets her lead him across the street and up her steps. Into her apartment. Through the living room and into her bedroom. He’s barely standing; tipsy enough to know what's happening, but not enough to stop it.

“Do you want this?” she asks tentatively.

He responds by cupping her face and kissing her hard, wet, and full of urgency. They make their way to the bed, barely slowing down the kiss. Their lips respond to each other’s asks insync. She kisses like his college kissing-buddy. Slow, open, sensual, and he desperately wants to keep going.

She pulls him on top of her and he helps remove her top before kissing down her neck. She responds with moans encouraging him and his fingers glide along her body, memorizing her form. He knew about the tattoo on her wrist, but never noticed the one going up her inner arm that seems to continue along her ribs. He licks along the side of her body, down from her shoulder to her hip. She lifts her pelvis to help him slide off her pants, giving him access to the base of the tattoo that disappears under her panties.

He looks up to her for permission and she bites her lip with a silent nod. He pulls down the fabric and doesn't waver before taking her into his mouth. He licks between her lips before concentrating on the bundle of nerves, causing her to buck.

She tastes different, but still amazing and he wants to see what makes her squirm. Is it the same? Is it different? He experiments with different things. She certainly sounds different. More needy, appreciative, less demanding, less controlling. She makes him feel like he’s everything she ever wanted. She's sweet. And kind. And sensitive. Oh god, so sensitive. Her begging makes him want to give her everything she’s asking for. Her pleas make him feel powerful. Like he’s the only one who can pleasure her in this way.

After she orgasms he asks if he can get off on her, and she begs for him to fill her up.

“I want you inside me...please, get inside me,” she says between breaths.

He can’t resist her cries, he grips himself and pushes into her, carefully filling her up.

“Elliot, I’ve wanted you since the first day you walked into the café.”

Elliot heard none of the words tumbling from her mouth, he just wanted to fuck her. Desperate for the new sensations of a new body.

As he neared his orgasm he became more rough, slamming into her as the headboard beat against the wall to his rhythm.

“You close? Wanna make you cum.”

“Fuck, so good, yes...yes...yes…”

///

She jolts upright in bed as her eyes shoot open and she’s covered in sweat. Her throat feels like it's closing shut as she gasps for air.

Adrenaline courses through her veins and she wipes the sweat off her neck using her shirt. She finds her phone in bed next to her and checks the time: 3 missed facetime calls from Elliot.

Her fingers clamor over the phone to put in her password and unlock it before tapping his name.

“Took you long enough, cutie, where you’ve bee—” his smiling voice cuts off when he sees her face with the small amount of light in the room. “Wha— what’s wrong?”

“Elliot?” her voice is shaky—small.

“Why are you in the dark? What’s going on? Are...are you okay?”

“I...I must have fallen asleep. I had—oh god—I had a nightmare.”

“Oh no, what happened?”

Her mind spins trying to make sense of what she saw and heard and dreamt.

“I —no wait, you were—and she was—and you both were—"

“Slow down. Slow down, take a breath. Who was there? What were we doing?”

She inhales deeply, fighting to keep her breath steady.

“You met someone… the girl from the coffee shop… and you went on a date... and you… had sex with her. And I… I couldn’t stop it. You were so into her. She was everything to you.”

Tears began falling without her realizing and she wiped at her face. Part confusion, part embarrassment.

After a few moments letting her catch her breath, he spoke.

“I promise you, I am not flirting with anyone. Or seeing anyone. And certainly not sleeping with anyone. Where is this coming from?” His voice was laced with concern and care.

“I don’t know,” she forced out, trying to hold back the tears but it just made it worse. “We haven’t been able to talk recently. You’ve been so busy, and we kept missing each other, and it just seemed like you were slipping away I guess, and I got, I don’t know, insecure?”

He listened to her attentively and her breath finally steadied as she calmed down. He provided her with the care and understanding of a saint. He wanted more than anything to be there with her. Holding her. Making it better.

When she was more at ease and they were back into comfortable conversation, he brought forth his teasing spirit, making her smile and their conversation turned light again.

“Does this mean you’re ready to admit you were wrong to try and push me to ‘play the field’ and ‘see what’s out there; and ‘sow my wild oats’?”

She stayed silent, not wanting to relent. The room was dark, but he could still see her mouth twist to one side in the glow of her screen.

His smirk turns to a wide smile. “I think you lovvvve me," he sings playfully. "Dare I say, you might be ready to label this?”

She bites the inside of her lip, debating his words. Not wanting to let him win, but never wanting to feel what she felt during that dream.

“Okay, maybe I was wrong to push you towards being open to new experiences.”

“And…?”

“And, maybe I don’t want you to experiment with other people."

“And why?”

She rolls her eyes, not wanting to give him the satisfaction but knowing she needs to say it. “Because I want you for myself.”

“Does that mean…?

“UGH, YES! I want to be your girlfriend. You happy?!”

“Very!” His grin so wide it reaches his eyes. “Are we in a relationship?”

She nods, but he’s having none of it, “Nuh uh, you gotta say it.”

“Wereinareltionship,” she mumbles inaudibly.

“What was that? I didn't hear you?”

“We_are_in_a_relationship,” she sighs, stretching out the pauses tauntingly.

He’s soaring. Proud and confident. Not that he wanted it to happen like this, perse. But finally hearing her admit that she didn’t want him experimenting with someone else made him beam.

She indulges him, letting him bask in his smug glory. She won’t admit it, but she’s been secretly playing the word ‘boyfriend’ in her head and finding it feels nice.

"Not sure if it's a good time, but I really wanna know what I did in that dream...Was I good at it? Did I show off any new moves?"

“You’re right. It's not a good time," she quips. “Also, maybe you can find another coffee shop?”

Elliot smiles to the ground knowing she’s being ridiculous. “Will it help if I tell you a little bit more about her?”

She’s not sure she wants to hear more, but doesn’t protest.

“Her name is Ruth. She’s 62. Retired from teaching 2 years ago and works the late afternoon shift in the café her son owns. She does sometimes slip me a free pastry.” He pauses before admitting, “but I think it's the ones they throw out at the end of the day, anyway.”

She’s horribly embarrassed that she jumped to conclusions like she did. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? Being jealous? Turning Ruth into a homewrecker? I gotta tell you, I kinda like you being jealous. Means you like me more than you let on.”

He’s always the one feeling a tad insecure, being less experienced and perhaps a little more invested in their relationship than she is, so it's nice to see her be a little possessive.

“Alright BMOC. Let’s not go that far.”

“I never should’ve told you that nickname.”

They both laugh, settling into a comfortableness once again.

“I hate that I can’t be there with you right now,” he says after a beat. “I just want to hold you until you fall asleep.”

She smiles shyly, “I want that too.”

He glances around his room thinking of a plan.

“Listen, I know this has been tough on both of us. Why don’t we go on a date this weekend? Just you, me, and our webcams?”

“I’m listening.” The corners of her lips curl into a smile.

“I’ll order us both take-out. We’ll have some wine, dinner, dessert, good conversation. A real getting-to-know-you-from-afar date. How does that sound?”

“I’d love that.”

“Great! It’s a date. Tomorrow at 7?”

“Perfect.”

++++++++++++++++++++++