Flower Girl Ch. 02

"Yes, fiction. It was written like a hundred years ago. The author's last name is Masoch, which is where the word masochism comes from."

"Is that so," Andy had rolled Vera over on her stomach and started massaging her ass with both hands.

Tracy looked up from her computer screen and realized she was blushing at her own writing. How odd. She had always been very comfortable talking about sex, to a point where she had to consider other people's comfort level over her own. Hell, she worked in a flower shop. She smiled to herself about the time she had explained to Antonio that he had his face buried in a plant's genitals. "Didn't you know that, Antonio? You work with flowers, yet did not even know that a flower is a plant's sex organ?"

She went on to explain how flowers contained both the male and female sex cells, and the single purpose of flowers was strictly to invite pollinators to help spread sperm. "Pollen is plant sperm, Antonio. All plants make flowers, except ferns and conifers. Even grass, if you don't cut it, makes a flower to reproduce." But Antonio was not gracious about this enlightenment, he begged Tracy to stop, but she would not. "The smells, the shapes, the colors -- even the white ones! They have patterns in the petals that we cannot see with our human eyes, but they are all meant to draw pollinators into the sweet spot."

"Please stop!" Antonio begged, his hands covering his ears and his nose dusted with orange pollen from a day lily.

"Suit yourself," Tracy replied. "It is not my job to teach a grown man about the birds and the bees." She could be a sassy brat when she felt like it.

"Carrots!"

"What?"

"Carrots don't make flowers!"

"They most certainly do. They just aren't the big colorful flowers that people buy."

"Coconut trees!"

"Flowering."

"Peas!"

"Of course peas make flowers. Gregor Mendel made his discoveries about genetics using the flowers from pea plants!"

"Sex, sex, sex! Does your grandmother know you talk like this, making everything sexual?"

"Flowers are sexual, Antonio. I didn't make them that way."

Antonio threw up his hands in exasperation and left the room.

"Broccoli!" he yelled from the other room. Poor Antonio didn't realize that the broccoli itself was the flower of the plant. Perhaps he would have some plant sex organs for dinner and tell his wife how crazy she was. Tracy laughed at the thought.

But her writing was making her blush. She already doubted she would ever share this body of work with the writing group. She was conscious of William reading it and she wondered what he might think of her. Of course it is fiction, she reminded herself. Not even my personal fantasies. And according to his recent email, he has read a variety of erotica. William is mature. Sophisticated. Surely this would not faze him, yet Tracy was starting to feel self-conscious and realized she cared far too much what William thought of her. Oh, this was not good, not good at all. Tracy, the girl who kept her mental finger up, Tracy with her love-it-or-leave-it attitude was letting William get under her skin. Dammit. She was about to shut down her computer just when an email from William Travis popped up.

Tracy,

If you plan to attend the writers group tomorrow evening, I wonder if you might allow me to take you out for a drink afterwards. My motives are completely selfish. I am extremely curious about certain aspects of your story.

William

Wow, Tracy thought to herself. That was short. Direct, yet still ambiguous. Except he wants to spend time with me, one on one. And what aspects could he be referring to? Surely the sexual content? Tracy smiled and knew she would wait at least twelve hours before answering yes. Obviously, William appreciates a slow brew.

Instead, she sent a text message to Beth. "Received a request to have a drink with William. Not exactly a date? But better than a hook-up. Very specific -- one drink and a designated topic of discussion: my writing."

Beth wrote back, "Show off those legs, but keep 'em closed," which made Tracy laugh out loud.

* * * * *

William watched Tracy enter the library from a discreet distance. She moved across the floor swiftly, with determined focus, straight toward the writers group. William studied her intently, smiling to himself that she wore a snug dress. Not overdressed by New Yorker standards, but definitely showing that she took pride in her appearance.

Her email reply had said, "Yes," nothing more. He must have been staring and lost in thought, for he did not notice Melissa standing at his side. When he glanced at her she said, "Hey, William, a bunch of us are going out after work to celebrate Gina's birthday. Would you like to join us?"

"Thank you, Melissa, but I have plans. I will be sure to wish Gina a happy birthday."

"Oh, okay." Melissa continued standing as William walked away. He busied himself for the next hour until he saw the group emerge from the room. Tracy was the last one to leave, walking out with a couple. When their eyes met she smiled warmly and said, "Hello, William."

It was only the second time he had seen her in person, and she took his breath away.

"Tracy," he returned the smile and added intense eye contact until she looked away.

"So, do you have a place in mind?" she asked.

"I do," he said, then turned and gestured with his hand towards the door.

"Mind if I stop at the restroom first?"

"Of course not."

William waited outside near the door until he saw her emerge.

"Do you mind a short walk?" he asked.

"If I did, I probably wouldn't live in New York," she answered, as they exited the library. They walked in silence while William used every opportunity possible to steal glances at her. She was carrying a light sweater and her dress was sleeveless, a dark purple color that accentuated her slim figure. Her leg tattoo was covered, but her left arm had a collage of flowers that started at the elbow and disappeared under the fabric at her shoulder. He wondered how far the piece went.

She had not spoken since leaving the library and William was not sure how to interpret her silence. Perhaps his impression about her was wrong. He had assumed an effervescent personality, but in reality he had only spoken to her one time. Maybe she was actually an introvert, a common trait among writers, but not what he expected from a business owner. At the first red light he studied her furrowed brow and decided something must be on her mind. Perhaps something happened at the writers group that was bothering her. He pondered asking, but decided to wait until she spoke, or at least until they were comfortably seated away from the crowd.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"Just another block to the Franklin Room. Have you been there?"

"No," Tracy answered.

William chose the Franklin room for its intimate atmosphere and for the view, since it was located on the twenty-fourth floor.

Standing in front of the elevator, Tracy exhaled rather loudly, then turned to William and said, "Did you know there is graffiti about you in the ladies restroom at the library?"

William smiled. So this was what was on her mind. "No, I did not," he answered truthfully, although he was not surprised.

Tracy stared at him for a few seconds before asking, "Well, don't you want to know what it says?"

William thought for second and answered, "No. Not unless you wish to tell me."

"Someone wrote inside one of the stalls 'William Travis has a big dick,' but the word 'has' was crossed out and replaced with the word 'is.'"

William laughed but did not say anything. Tracy stared at him as if some explanation was needed until William lifted both hands and said, "I will not confirm or deny either claim."

That elicited a half-grin out of Tracy, so he added, "Women can be so spiteful. The graffiti about me in the men's room are much more flattering and tend to focus on my sexy ass."

This actually did get a laugh out of Tracy. They had entered the elevator with another couple, but she spoke as if they were alone. "I'm sorry, William. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything. It's just that your name also came up in the writers group."

"Really?" William asked, in genuine surprise.

"Yes. Apparently you are a womanizer, or you are gay, depending on whom I choose to listen to."

"I would suggest you choose not to listen to any gossip at all, Tracy. Wouldn't you prefer to get to know me and form your own opinion?" William asked warmly, but still with a smirk on his face.

The elevator opened and they stepped outside. Tracy was impressed with the modern décor and was glad she chose to wear a dress with short pointy boots. They took a seat near a window and admired the view.

Tracy turned her face to William and said, "Hey, I'm sorry to bring up all that gossip. I'm not usually like that and in the writers group your name actually came up in a very positive way. Someone was asked about a book that was similar to something we were critiquing and it was mentioned that you were an expert, and well... I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize, Tracy. I am sure that the bathroom graffito was a little unnerving." He was smiling again, such a charming smile that Tracy had to look away.

"Well, I'll admit something, William, I have been feeling downright disconcerted where you are concerned."

"Really?" He asked. Tracy took off her thick black-framed glasses and set them at the table and William had to remind himself to breathe. Her bright blue eyes were framed by black hair that contrasted with her flawless porcelain skin.

"Yes," she answered, and then ordered a cosmopolitan from the cocktail waitress. William ordered a dry martini.

"I think I am feeling... overexposed. I know almost nothing about you, and you really don't know anything about me personally, and yet you are reading my writing and I feel rather..." Tracy looked around and whispered, "Well, like you have taken a peek inside my mind." William had been thinking about that very thing earlier in the day. Someone had left a note on his desk that said "I have a crush on your mind," and it made him think of Tracy.

William looked away from her face and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Tracy wondered what his beard felt like, and then he spoke, "I see. Well, there is no way to rectify this situation other than to offer to answer any questions you might have and clarify some current misconceptions. I am not attracted to men. I can be a dick, although I try very hard not to be. I am impatient at times, which may have led to that conclusion, or perhaps I made someone angry unknowingly. I have been accused of being phony because I enjoy playing with language and my job allows me to play the role of an intellectual. In truth I am an introvert, so in working with the public I force myself to be a bit exuberant. Is that phony? I hope not. I consider it vocational acting, and I do admit to enjoying it at times. Outside work, I am very down-to-earth and those who know me would never call me a womanizer. The size of my dick is not something a gentleman would ever discuss on a first date, but if there is anything else you wish to know, please ask."

"Wow," Tracy laughed. "That was unexpected." She took a sip of her drink and said, "I appreciate your forthrightness, William, and I promise not to be misled by gossip or bathroom graffiti in the future."

William exhaled and looked away, then looked back at Tracy. "And you are correct. I know very little about you personally. But I am very curious."

"Well, there is no way to rectify this situation other than to offer to answer any questions you might have and to clarify some current misconceptions. You have permission to ask anything you want." Tracy teased, echoing William's earlier statement.

"Very well," he replied. "We can start with the overheard conversation that spawned your book, please."

"I was on the train, going to see my family."

"Where would that be?"

"Upstate. Albany."

"Go on."

"I was sitting across from these two guys and I didn't want to talk to them, so I had my earbuds in and my nose in a book. I couldn't hear a thing they were saying, which was how I wanted it, but then, during a pause between songs, I overheard that they were talking about sex."

"And that got your attention."

"Of course. So I discreetly put my iPod on pause and continued to bob my head to some imaginary tune. The guys were not good-looking, in case you were wondering. Two average-looking, middle-aged guys, but one of them was explaining why he had started using an escort service and paying for sex. His friend tried to talk him out of it, but the guy -- can we just call him john for practical purposes?"

"Of course."

"Well this john explained to his friend how after his divorce he'd tried dating, but it depressed and exhausted him, and he just wanted to have sex once in a while, so it seemed reasonable that he would just pay for it. His friend argued that his behavior was very sick and just the result of his divorce, and that he was also wasting his money. The john argued that he was actually being very practical."

"Makes sense."

"Yes, I thought so. This john must have been some type of an accountant, because he broke it down - how much money he would spend dating, trying to chase sex, but if he were just up front and honest and paid for it, he actually saved money, plus it was a guarantee!"

"Brilliant conclusion," William laughed.

"Well, it made perfect sense, the way the guy explained it, but his friend was so upset by it, while the john was very logical. His friend tried to bring morals into it, but the john said what he was doing was much more honest because the girls at the escort service knew exactly what they would get in return. He said all this in business terms, and it was a sound argument. His friend finally agreed that is sounded okay, but warned about letting it go on too long. When I got off the train, I kept thinking about their conversation. The whole weekend at my parents' house I thought about what kind of man would pay for sex and what type of woman would sell sex, and all the implications. I talked about it all weekend, drove my family crazy, then I started writing."

William finished his drink and immediately a cocktail waitress approached and asked if he would like another, but he ordered Pellegrino instead. Not much of a drinker, Tracy observed. She was still nursing her cosmopolitan.

"Thank you for sharing that story with me, Tracy. That was enlightening."

"Really? Because I feel like we are still talking about my writing and it must be getting old. You still don't know anything about me."

"From that story I ascertained that you are curious, mischievous, imaginative, and passionate. And that you have a good relationship with your parents and that they are still married."

Tracy laughed. "Wow, you're good. I cannot deny any of those claims," Tracy teased, using William's tone back on him again. "Except when I said 'parents,' I actually meant Mom and Stepdad."

"And you were raised in Albany?"

"Yes," Tracy answered. "What about you?"

"St. Charles, a suburb west of Chicago."

"And are your parents still married?"

"They are," William answered.

"Why did you assume I have a good relationship with my parents?"

"Well, it was a hopeful assumption, but also the fact that you feel comfortable discussing sexual matters with them."

Tracy laughed, "Yeah, well, my mom is a biology professor at SUNY. She talks about sex all the time, but in a very clinical, scientific manner. It is the purpose of life, biologically speaking, to reproduce and pass on genes. Speaking of which, you should also know that I am a twin."

"There are two of you?" William almost choked on his drink.

"Yes. I have an identical twin, Beth."

William smiled and could not speak for a moment.

"If you are thinking what I think you are thinking, the answer is no."

"I have no idea what you think I am thinking."

"Well, there are about a hundred questions twins get asked regularly, and the answer is almost always 'no'."

"I'm sorry you and your sister are not close."

"What? We're very close. Why would you say that?"

"I was going to ask if you and your sister are close, but, alas, you said the answer is 'no.'"

Tracy stared at William wondering if he was teasing. "Seriously, your first thought was not sexual?"

"No," William lied. "Okay, yes. My first thought was sexual. And the second and the third."

Tracy laughed and said, "I appreciate your honesty. Trust me, we get that a lot. A strange man in a bar once offered us five hundred dollars to make out."

William stared at Tracy's lips, waiting for her response. "The answer is always no, William." He laughed and Tracy smiled at his laugh. "You have a great laugh," she said, rather spontaneously.

William grinned at her and said, "Well, you are delightful to talk to, Tracy. I am very pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Uh oh, does this mean this date is over?"

William laughed again, "I hope not. It is getting late, but I have a few more questions I would like to ask."

Tracy's drink was empty and she did accept the offer of a fresh-up, while William asked about her business. Tracy told him all about Petals and about her grandmother, as well as how she and Beth were similar and different. William told her about his job as a librarian and they realized that their jobs shared many similarities, beyond just dealing with the public. "Except I don't meet eligible bachelors and you meet unattached women constantly."

William nodded in agreement and Tracy tried to act nonchalant, as a jealous cloud drifted over her head. She took the last sip of her drink and William's was empty.

William asked where she lived and said that his home was in Harlem. Tracy secretly hoped he would walk her to the station and wait with her for her subway, but he exceeded her expectations and insisted on getting a cab. He delivered her to her front door with a kiss on the hand and nothing more. No talk of a second date, just a confirmation of a lovely evening. Tracy had a very difficult time falling asleep.

* * * * *

The next morning, Tracy called Beth to tell her about her date. "Can you talk?"

"I'm nursing Charlie, but tell me everything! What was he wearing?" Tracy described William's narrow and modern slacks, button up shirt, and shoes. "He looked great, really handsome. Oh, and red shoe laces. I can't imagine why, but you know how I feel about color. I never dated a guy that dressed so nicely and somehow he doesn't seem vain, it is... different, but nice."

She described the bar, what they talked about, and then the fact that William refused to walk her to the subway station; he insisted on taking her home in a cab. "Our ankles touched in the cab and neither of us moved them and I swear, Beth, there was a current flowing between us! He is so incredibly handsome and different from anyone I have ever dated and..."

"Did he kiss you?" Beth whispered frantically into the phone. She only had a few minutes left until Charlie would need burping.

"On the hand."

"On the hand? What?"

"Yes, well, not like a Disney Prince or anything! When I got out of the cab, he took my right hand and I thought he was going to shake it, which would have been very disappointing."

"Very."

"Yes, well, he didn't shake it. He just held onto it as he talked to me for a few minutes, telling me how much he enjoyed the evening and getting to know me."

"Sweet!"

"Yes, then, still holding my hand he brought it to his face! And I finally felt that beard with the back of my hand. He held it there for a second or two and kept talking, then turned his face and kissed it! Like it was the most natural thing in the world."