Love Starved
Authors: Kate Fierro
© Kate Fierro, 2015
All Rights Reserved
ISBN 13: 978-1-941530-32-0 (print)
ISBN 13: 978-1-941530-30-6 (ebook)
Published by
Interlude Press
http://interludepress.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and places are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons, either living or dead, is
entirely coincidental.
All trademarks and registered trademarks are the property of their
respective owners.
Book design
by Lex Huffman
Cover Design
by Buckeyegrrl Designs
Cover Illustration
by Valerie Schroedl
For those who gave me the impulse to start writing and the courage to never stop.
Contents
The last of the managers
trickled out of the conference room, in a hurry to start the weekend, and Micah Geller switched off the projector, gathered his papers and leaned back in his chair to stretch his tense muscles. He drank some water to relieve the scratchiness in his throat, strained after the full-day seminar. This was the last group of the week. He could finally leave the gray, windowless room that felt oppressive in spite of its size, and he wouldn’t have to come back tomorrow. Of course, he had the next workshop scheduled in a week, so he’d be in another corporate building, another colorless conference room or lecture hall soon enough.
But for now, he was free.
Outside, the cloudy morning had morphed into a beautiful evening; the spring greenery looked all the more vivid after the neutral interiors and monochrome suits Micah had seen all day. He took off his jacket and put it on the back seat of his Mazda, and then stood there a moment, in the middle of the half-empty parking lot, relishing the warm wind on his face. May had always been his favorite month. Too bad it was almost over and he’d had no time to enjoy it.
Well, he could do something to rectify that tonight. Instead of heading to the office, he would get take-out from his favorite Mexican place and eat dinner on his balcony, soaking up the last rays of sun while catching up on the tasks that had accumulated over the week of teaching. He had at least two conference invitations in his inbox and a June work schedule from his employees to check and approve; his publisher had been nagging him all week to finish the last round of editing before the book based on his seminars hit the printer. That should keep him busy tonight.
Micah got in the car and rolled down the windows, and then he put on his
Recharge!
playlist and pulled out of the parking lot. Along with the wind in his hair and the rhythm vibrating through the speakers came an uncharacteristic flash of rebellion, a decision made before he really thought about it. He would play truant tonight. In the morning, he would get back to being the best, most dedicated network security consultant and trainer in the city. But right now, he’d enjoy a rare free night out, breathing actual air that hadn’t been forced through air conditioning and having drinks instead of dinner. He wasn’t hungry anyway.
He knew just the place to go.
An hour later, Micah’s second
drink buzzed pleasantly through his veins. He’d left his car in the garage and taken a cab to get here. He’d eaten some tapas, just enough for the alcohol not to hit him like a sledgehammer, and now the world seemed like a very agreeable place indeed. Rays of the setting sun were slanting golden across the floor of the little rooftop bar, the air was fresh with a gentle breeze and the whole of Minneapolis lay spread before him, all silver and green. Micah couldn’t tear his eyes away from the view. Even after nine years here, sometimes the city still took his breath away.
“So are you getting happy drunk, sad drunk or just drunk drunk?” asked a high-pitched, slightly nasal voice behind him. “This better be good. I’m giving up my Aerobox class for you.”
Micah turned with a smile. “Daphne. So you did come, after all.”
The petite girl climbing onto the bar stool beside him looked completely out of place in this fancy bar with its overpriced drinks. In black leggings and a hot pink tank top, her shock of blond hair gathered into a tight ponytail low on her head, Daphne stood out among the tired businessmen and women in power suits stopping for a drink after work. Her whole face lighting up, she beamed at Micah.
“Of course I came. When was the last time you wanted to hang out without me bothering you for weeks to find time? It’s got to be an emergency. That’s way more interesting than any torture my fitness instructor was going to come up with. So, what’s up?”
Micah kissed his best friend’s cheek.
“I hate to disappoint you, but there’s no emergency. I just thought I’d take a night off.”
Daphne gasped. “A-ha! That proves it. Who are you and what have you done with my friend?”
“Ha ha. Very funny. I just got tired of being indoors.”
“You
thrive
on being indoors.”
“True, most of the time. But lately, it feels like I’m only outside when I go to and from the car at work, and June is going to be even crazier with the book coming out. I needed a few hours. And it’s May.”
“Ah,” Daphne said, nodding. “May. The month of love. Are your hormones going hoppity-hop?”
Micah rolled his eyes. “No, but I’d like to enjoy at least a little bit of the sun before I blink and it gets cold and snowy again. So tonight, I’m a free man.” He stretched luxuriously. “A free man who needs a drink with his best friend. What can I get you?”
“An orgasm.”
“You know, as happy as I am to see you, I’m not ready to show it through sexual favors.”
Daphne sighed. “Still not even a tiny bit bi?”
“Nope.”
She shrugged. “Pity. But I meant the drink. An orgasm, please.” She smiled at the bartender, who nodded and reached for the black bottle of Irish cream. Daphne turned back to Micah. “Just one though, I have a business meeting at ten. Can’t show up inebriated, can I?”
“You have a business meeting at ten p.m. on a Friday?”
Daphne waved her hand dismissively.
“Yeah. A couple of CEOs set for a July wedding coming to discuss the final details. She’s one of those super-commuters, flying in from New York as we speak, so that’s the only reasonable time to meet.” She leaned in to add quietly, “They won’t last, if you ask me, but that’s hardly a reason not to give them the wedding of their dreams, is it?”
“More of a reason, if anything,” Micah agreed.
“See? I love that you understand. Wedding pictures and memories are forever, even if marriage rarely is.” She nodded sagely, and then clapped her hands like an excited little girl. “I wish you would hurry up and find the right guy. I haven’t done a same-sex wedding yet.”
They had both started their own companies even before they graduated from college five years ago. Whereas Micah had merged his unique computer talents and the knowledge taken from his business major into a profession, guarding companies from malicious Internet users and teaching them how to protect their data, Daphne had fulfilled a lifelong dream and become a fantasy wedding planner. She loved her job and was obsessed with pairing up and marrying off all of her friends.
Micah patted her hand. “Sorry, that’s not gonna happen.”
“Aw. You still haven’t met your Prince Charming then?”
“You asked me that the last time we met, you know, and every time before that.”
“So? Anything could have happened since. Though with your schedule, I’d be surprised, unless you literally bumped into someone during one of your work thingies.”
“Nope. Still happily single and not planning to change it, thank you very much,” Micah said with a note of finality.
Daphne regarded him, her expression somewhere between appraising and sad as she sipped her drink. Finally she put the glass down.
“You know, one day you’re gonna meet a cute guy who finds a way to break all those walls you’ve built around you. And when he does, you will see what it really feels like to be loved. You’ll start singing differently in no time, then. I’ll be waiting.”
Micah frowned at her. “Yeah, no thanks. Been there, done that. I’ll pass.”
“Oh come on, Brian doesn’t count.”
Micah shook his head, which only seemed to encourage her.
“No, really, tell me you disagree,” she demanded.
“Can we change the topic?”
That was enough for Daphne to assume victory.
“See? You totally don’t know what you’re missing. If you’d just let me try to set you up with someone…” She batted her long eyelashes. “You know I have mad matchmaking skills.”
“
No
, Daph. I’m serious. Let it go.” Micah slid off the stool. If he went to the restroom, her overactive brain would probably skip to a different topic by the time he returned. “I’ll be right back.”
She rolled her eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine,
fine
,” she called out to his back. “No blind dates, I promise.”
When Micah returned, Daphne was
starting on her second drink. She shrugged at his amused expression.
“Whatever. I’ll call Danny to drive me there. Let’s be honest, I’d need much more than this to affect my professionalism. Besides, it will probably make the meeting easier, too—last time they spent the hour arguing about every little detail.
Wedding stress
. Woohoo.” She took another sip, then turned to face Micah fully again. “Okay, so tell me, did you have even one non-working weekend this month?”
“Not really, no. I didn’t have the time. Why?”
“Because you move as if every single muscle in your body is strained. When did you last exercise, or go swimming or even have a damn walk?”
“I… actually don’t remember,” Micah admitted. “I used the stairs at work last week when the elevator didn’t work. Does that count?”
Daphne shook her head. “What’s the point of living in a decadent building with a fantastic gym and a swimming pool if you never use it? It’s downstairs, for heaven’s sake, how hard is it to find an hour every few days?” She frowned and poked his side. “Seriously, even your ass looks tense.”
Micah’s eyebrows shot up. “Why were you looking at my ass?”
“It’s still a nice ass. I better look now because you’re clearly determined to flatten it into oblivion.”
Micah couldn’t help it; he snorted so loudly a few heads turned with reproachful frowns.
The thing was, Daphne used to have a crush on him in college, when they first rented a tiny apartment together in freshman year. And being, well, Daphne, she never even thought to hide it from him.
“You know, I’ve never understood the appeal of the dark hair plus deep blue eyes combination before,” she’d said one morning, a few months into their new living arrangement. Micah had just walked into the room, half-awake, wearing nothing but briefs after his shower.
He’d hummed something in reply, not really listening. Daphne often got talky in the mornings. Most of the time, she was perfectly content talking
at
him, as long as he acknowledged her points at the right moments.
“But I think it’s grown on me,” she added, watching Micah move to the kitchen, on the quest for coffee. “It may be that clueless angel face. It goes really well with the virgin vibes,” she mused, and Micah frowned, not quite following. It was early. There was no coffee in him yet. “Although I think it has more to do with that scrumptious ass of yours. I usually like my men to be at least six feet, but with that body, I’d be willing to make an exception. Yum.”
She laughed at his widening eyes and followed him to the kitchen to take over the coffee-making. He stood there, gaping at her.
“Are you… hitting on me?” he asked carefully after he’d considered and discarded several other options.
She cocked her head, a flirty little smile on her lips. “Yes. Are you interested?”
“Daph, you know I’m gay,” he said, panicking a little. “I mean, it’s flattering, and thank you, but—”
She waved away his bumbling explanations with a bright smile. “It’s fine. I had to ask just in case, didn’t I? Don’t worry, it won’t get weird. A little crush never hurt anyone.”
It really didn’t get weird—thankfully, because Micah loved living with Daphne—even though he felt her eyes on him sometimes. It always made him blush, but he didn’t really mind; it was quite flattering after all. And harmless.
Soon there were other guys in her life, and then in junior year she met Danny, a six-foot-three art dealer, built like a bull, with skin almost as dark as his eyes. It was love at first sight. Micah hadn’t caught her looking at his ass since. Until now. For some reason, he found it hilarious.
“Daphne, you’re married,” he managed to choke out when his laughter subsided.
“Married, not blind,” she remarked. “Besides, it’s not like Danny never ogled your ass.”
That made him sputter. “What?”
“What, what,” she parroted. “Don’t change the subject, I’m still in the middle of judging you for the neglect you inflict upon your poor body. Which, for the record, is the only thing I’m ever gonna judge you on, I swear. I just can’t look at you limping around like that.”
“I’m not limping!” Micah said, indignant.
“It’s subtle, but it’s there. In my informed opinion, you need a good massage. I should hook you up with my new chiropractor—he’s totally straight, but his hands are pure magic.” She nodded firmly and sipped her drink, and then added, “A night of great sex might do the trick, too. When was the last time you had
that
?”
There she was again, inappropriate as ever. Micah forced his face into a decisive expression. “Daphne, really—”
“No, seriously, you’d be surprised how good sex can be for tense muscles,” she said, way too loud. Alcohol always messed with her volume dial. Several people glanced at them with different degrees of interest or amusement.
Wincing, Micah covered Daphne’s mouth with his palm. “Shh, we’re in public! And can we stop talking about sex?” he murmured.
She tried to speak through the obstacle, failed to produce anything clear and licked his hand.
That did the trick. “Ew!” Micah jerked his hand away.
“Let’s hope you washed your hands after peeing. Oh well, alcohol kills the germs anyway.” Daphne took a generous swallow of her drink. “So, should I hook you up with someone? I can think of several hot guys who may be interested in something casual, if you really don’t care for dating.”
“Oh my God, Daphne, shut up,” Micah whined, hiding his rapidly heating face in his palms—one of which was wet now.
“Why? Sex is an important factor in human wellbeing and nothing to be embarrassed about. We all have it, right?”
Micah didn’t even have to raise his head—he was absolutely certain she was looking around at the people listening in, waiting for their input. Daphne had always been infuriatingly open in public, even without alcohol in the mix.
She nudged his shoulder. “And if you don’t, no wonder you’re so high-strung.”