As we dried off from our shower, we spoke a little interior design (listing the things we hate about his bathroom), and then went out to his office, which is where he keeps his cash.  He sat down in his chair and handed me a $20 for the cab.  I leaned over and picked up his money clip behind him and pulled out an extra five, which was the cost (with tip).  He laughed.  I said, well, I could be a sport, but nah.  He was so happy and shocked that I did it.

(I think it’s the lack of supplication to him.  As time has gone on, I am apt to call him out on his bullshit, tease him mercilessly, and I deal with him from a position of strength. So what if he’s rich . . . I don’t care about his money, which means I am happy to take it.  I don’t need it and that’s clear to him, which makes us both much happier.)

We wandered downstairs, he in boxer briefs, me naked. Despite all the glass (and my bloating), I was surprisingly unselfconscious being naked around him.  I mean, obvs, I am naked with him all the time, but just wandering around with two floors of glass, brightly lit, I was perfectly comfortable in my own skin.

Downstairs, I threw on lace panties and my bra to stand around the kitchen.  I washed what we used earlier in the sink and he remembered he’d been making food before I arrived, so he renuked some cheesy broccoli rice thing I told him I stopped eating in college.

We spoke a little about the training, he gave me the card he got for me, and he told me about the instructor. He told me there is a secret he wanted to tell me.  He started to tell me, and then stopped himself, saying he couldn’t because he was sworn to secrecy.  I said, B, I tell you stuff All The Time! that I am not supposed to tell you, how could you not trust me.  He said, that wasn’t it, it was that he would think about the fact he betrayed a confidence.  He came back to this a few times, that I would know soon enough, but he didn’t want to betray the confidence or go back on his promise.

I asked if he hit on BFD and he said, yeah, people hit on me all the time.  Which duh.  Short, but hot.

I told him what I had made that morning, and he said, yeah, too gay, even for me.  (Our joke is always about his pereceived gayness.  He is the gayest masculine straight man I’ve ever known.  If you look at him, you might think “hypermasculine gym rat,” and never thing sensitive, moisturizing, show tunes listening, and style-aware.)

Since we were talking food, I mentioned that horrible meal we had at a low-end chain.  I said, you know, you still owe me a decent meal, so he began asking about restaurants downtown.  His suggestion, of course, Sushi, but at the new place.

As we awaited his food, he started to scrub the cook top.  (He never cooks.)  He brought up the sex thing again, and said, you know it isn’t really about [the thing], I am just bored. He spun around quickly and said” NOT SEXUALLY!!!!  Just in general.  I am bored with my life, so I thought it would be fun.”

That is what I suspected, but it’s good to know that he thinks it would be fun, not that it’s like his secret thing.  There are lots of ways to get that experience without going fully into, so I will work on that for/with him.  He is constantly looking for things to break him out of ennui.  If we can accomplish that through sex, cool.  I doubt it will provide anything other than temporary relief.  Frankly, I know what will break him out long-term, but we’re not yet ready to discuss it.

I mentioned to him when I saw what he was eating that I wanted to cook for him and he needs to take me seriously about it.  He tasted it, added hot sauce, and offered me a taste.  He has been asked to contribute to an event, but he’s not going to do it.  There is no business benefit for him to do it, and he’s not interested from a personal standpoint.  Fair enough.  I reminded him that’s why I don’t ask him to contribute to my stuff, reminding him that I don’t, and that I have stuff, too.

With his food prepared, we moved back to the sofa, sharing his rather disgusting concoction because we always eat together at his insistence (he would hand me a full spoon from time to time, and we talked fashion and life in this backwater.

We laughed about the idea of attending fashion stuff here. and told him about my dress.  He said, yeah, I can see how that could happen, you know, it’s not a fashion town.  He looked at me as he said it to gauge my reaction.  Like he forgets sometimes that this is where I live, not who I am or where I always want to stay.

He loves that fashion is important to me.  I told him about the jacket I saw for him and mentioned the store from which it came.  He was impressed and recognized the jacket, and liked that I knew the manager, too.

After dinner and conversation, he dashed back up to finish getting dressed to drive me home.  No, we’re still not spending the night together.  We’re discussing taking an overnight trip together in the next few weeks, so we’ll see what happens with that.

I teased him about how lucky he is I put up with him.  And he is, and I do.

We talked business and calendar as we drove back.  Mostly, through my exhaustion, I just recall laughter.  We’re having fun together.

We kissed a lot in the car.  He said he might be gone tomorrow, or he might be here and he’d let me know either way.  It feels like we’re back on track.  He knows I was waiting at his request for his schedule to improve.  I reminded him that there are things I want to do that are just personal, like meeting a visiting business partner because I am his girl.  (We’re trying to schedule a time.)

Overall, I am happy and exhausted.  Seeing him was a surprise, since I’d written off the whole month.  The sex itself was hot and felt amazing, but we weren’t emotionally connected at the beginning to the extent we were when we were kissing in the car at the end.   It was like we need to flex the sex muscle to get back on track.  And we are . . .