Pleasurable Expectations

t h i r t e e n

The past three weeks I spent getting settled into my new position was a transition that left no room for free time. The client I had hopped on board with was a relatively easy one—a 16-year-old basketball star full of promise who's being scoped by various scouts—so that wasn't where my issue lay. The problem stemmed mostly from the fact that I had shadowed a few celebrity publicists but never actually represented the clients hands-on.

The first week after being assigned to my client Malcolm Simmons, I had to hustle to set up meetings to connect and get to know each other while also getting a feel for his character to see if he was to be considered a "difficult" client. The two weeks following were spent researching and lining up events that would offer Malcolm the right kinds of exposure.

I was finally able to take a break during the second half of my Saturday. I had finished the last of my calls, confirming that Malcolm would be playing in a charity game being held in the next week. With this free time, I decided to call Jeremiah and see if he wanted to spend a small part of the time I had open with me. He called me immediately after I texted him and told me he was on his way.

Jeremiah texted me to let me know he was outside, and I opened the door, surprised to find him already on my doorstep. As soon as he saw me, he hooked his forefingers through my front belt loops and pulled me into him, his head dipping to catch me in a kiss.

A few moments passed before he pulled away, and I said, "Well, hello to you too, Babe." I pecked him on his lips once more before stepping out of his path into my home.

"I haven't kissed you in six days," he recounted with a matter-of-fact tone of voice. "So, expect many more kisses from me."

"I can't wait," I responded with a soft chuckle. I sighed and flopped back into the couch, it sliding back just a little bit from the pressure of two smooth surfaces repelling each other. "Just let me sit here for a second first."

"I know you must be tired." He crossed the room and joined me on the couch. "I thought today was your day off."

"It was supposed to be, but then the stadium called and said there was a uniform problem, and since Malcolm doesn't have a manager yet, I had to go down to the company and ugh!" I sighed in exasperation. "I know I asked for this, and I love finally being hands-on with a client of my own, but I didn't think I'd have to take on two jobs at once!"

Jeremiah gestured for me to come towards him, and I did, my elbow pressing into the bulk of his thigh as I used him for support. He moved his hand to my jaw, the coolness of his palm on my jawline sending a shock through my body. The thumb he used to stroke my skin slid across the space with ease, the soft pad tickling the area where my jaw meets my neck. "What else is there besides the charity game you told me about?"

"That was the most stressful, honestly. Having to get it done in such a short amount of time, I mean." I brought the hand that wasn't supporting my head up to rub my eyes, another deep sigh leaving me. "But then, about a week ago, I received two invitations for Malcolm—one to a Thanksgiving dinner the city of Seattle's throwing and one for a region-wide awards ceremony."

"Okay." Jeremiah blew a breath through his mouth. "Let's brainstorm this."

"Perfect idea, Babe." I pulled myself from him and moved to get up as I asked, "Can we get some food, though? Because I had to run around unplanned and I never got to eat."

Jeremiah followed suit and stood up beside me. The couch slid against the floor again at the sudden movement. Still, I told him to leave it as I headed towards my room to change my semi-professional clothes into something comfier. Once changed, we intertwined hands and headed off to Jeremiah's car.