Page 73 of Idle

Quinn opens the door. “Paige?” My partner gives me a questioning look, then follows the director.

What was that all about? Why would Quinn care so much about our relationship status? I would think filming Paige doing what is traditionally thought of as “carpentry” would make for good television. After all, she doesn’t know exactly what to do so her take on it has to be a bit unorthodox. I smile. Like the rest of her.

All alone in the living room, memories from last night replay. When she admitted she never orgasmed with a man before, I almost lost it. A feeling of responsibility settles over me. Paige clearly wants to explore her sexuality—with me. I sit taller as excitement buzzes throughout my body.

No sooner do I picture her riding me, but the door opens and Paige herself pops out, scowling. She hugs her design book to her chest. “Let’s get out of here.”

Resisting the urge to ask her what happened, I follow her out of the apartment, onto the elevator, and out on the street. Horns blare around us as we walk up Eleventh Avenue, then turn toward Tenth. I point out a coffee shop and we duck inside.

Sitting at a table while our coffees brew, I broach the subject. “What happened back there?”

She leans back into the chair. “Quinn asked me questions about why I’m taking on more carpentry projects. No biggie. Then she noted the bathroom lacks some of my usual flair and asked if sleeping with you has impacted my interior design capabilities.” Her fist contacts the table, making the napkin holder jump. “Can you believe that shit? What business is this of hers? Or the public’s?”

“Hey,” I grab her hand. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. She didn’t go that far with me. I wonder why she did with you? It’s not like the network will let her use this footage.” I stroke the back of her palm with my thumb.

“Well, I didn’t take it sitting down. I looked right into her eyes and asked what she’s doing going out with Bo when the cameras aren’t rolling.”

My thumb stops moving. “You did not!”

“Did too.”

I shake my head. “You’re a force of nature.” I resume stroking the back of her palm. “What was her answer?”

She gives me a self-satisfied smirk. “She didn’t reply, but the look on her face was priceless. She’s guilty of something, I’m just not sure what. At the very least, it got her thinking of something other than my love life.” She beams at me. “I have a love life. With you.”

Quashing my natural desire to know what’s going on between Quinn and Bo, I return Paige’s smile. “I’m the lucky one.”

She laughs. “No. That honor goes to me because I’m getting lucky. Finally.”

My name comes over the loudspeaker, and I collect our drinks. After we finish them, I say, “Ready to go back?”

As we pass yet another decorating store, our conversation turns to how to finish up 1626. We agree we need to add flair to the rooms, but we’re at odds about how to do it. Returning to our apartment, she picks up her drawings and we toy with some ideas.

With nothing new decided, Paige tosses the sketchbook onto the floor and wraps her arms around my neck. “I’m done with work. I want orgasms, please.” She bats her eyes.

“When you put it that way.” I kiss her lips, enjoying how responsive she is. Soon, we’re horizontal on the sofa and she’s naked beneath me.

“Not fair,” she pouts. “You’re still wearing all your clothes.”

Lying over her body, I push her hair off her face. “But you’re not.” My lips travel down her chest and take her small nipple in my mouth while plumping her other boob with my hand. Her head thrashes at my contact, and her legs move under mine. I expel her nipple from my mouth with a loud pop.

“You really want to see me?”

She gives me an earnest affirmative head shake.

Sitting up, I grab the hem of my shirt and peel it off my body. Balling it up, I toss it to the end of the sofa and the green light facing me reminds me we’re not alone. “Fuck.”

Giggling, Paige replies, “I hope so.”

Focusing on her body—on display thanks to yours truly—I collapse on top of her and reach for my discarded shirt since her clothes are all over the floor.

“What are you doing?”

When my fingers wrap around the material of my shirt, I snatch it and thrust it at her. “Here. Put this on.”

“Uhm. Isn’t the idea to do the opposite?” Her fingers reach for my belt.

“Not when there are cameras in here.” I drag my shirt over her head and pull downward.

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