Something Great

Chapter 18

Natalie's POV

Monday's are widely known for being the worst, and this particular Monday is going in the record books as the longest one in history. Every time I look at the clock I'm convinced it's moving backwards. That, and I kinda feel like I'm gonna throw up. Not in a bad way - I didn't eat any questionable seafood or chicken, nor am I coming down with the flu. I've just never been this nervous, or distracted. My four pm date with Harry today looms ahead, and seems heavily weighted, based on how we left things last night. The only thing that prevented us from taking things to the next level was a disgruntled four-year-old. There was no doubt or hesitation. There was no brushing off our actions or attributing them to being "in the heat of the moment." We both wanted the same thing. I know that the significance for him was not nearly the same, at least the physical aspect, but the fact that I was openly ready to give myself to him, after everything I've experienced and despite every obstacle, made our interruption all the more frustrating. Like working up the nerve to go skydiving, only to find at the last minute that the plane has been grounded. I know Harry will not be expecting anything tonight, as he's shown himself to be a gentleman. However, I'm not sure I can say the same thing for myself. I not only want him, I need him. He's managed to work his way into my life, unearthing a small bit of the person I once was, and is unlocking my ability to build a connection with someone. NOT taking the next step right now could potentially send me stumbling two steps back. Part of me is sorely tempted to just cut to the chase, and show up in a trenchcoat and lingerie. Knowing my luck though, I'd knock on his door, in full seductress mode, only to find out that he actually made romantic dinner plans. Regardless, like a good girl scout, I plan to be prepared for anything that could happen...which may, or may not, include a trip to Victoria's Secret and a waxing appointment. Better safe than sorry, yeah?

As I will the clock to move faster, I'm thankful that most of my clients this morning have been relatively simple and low maintenance, as I've been far too scattered to deal with anything complicated. Although at one point, I mindlessly washed one woman's hair three times before she cleared her throat rather loudly, bringing me back to the present and alerting me to my mistake. Laughing it off, she appeared to take it in stride. I breathed a sigh of relief at that, but that didn't fool my manager, April, who's suspicious and narrowed gaze has been following me around the salon for the past couple of hours. Now, catching her stinkeye for the fifth time, 45 minutes before I'm scheduled to leave, I realize that I better get my nerves (and libido) in check before I end up out of a job. Smiling tightly back at her, I return my focus to the trim I'm currently finishing up. Brushing off the errant hairs, I remove the smock with a flourish, spinning the chair around so she can get a good look at her cut. Her wide smile tells me the day has not been a complete waste. Nevertheless, I all but push her towards the cash register, eyeing the clock the entire time. Smiling as genuinely as I can manage, I send her a quick farewell as she walks out the door, then immediately spring into action, setting a land speed record cleaning up my station, then running to the break room to grab my things. Shouting a goodbye to everyone, I rush out of the salon, carefully avoiding April's stare. It's going on noon now, leaving me just enough time to make the necessary stops, before running home to shower and get ready, and then get to his hotel by four o'clock. Fuck. Thankfully, my mother decided to pick Emily up directly from pre-school, saving me the trip.

After an eventful waxing appointment (where my aesthetician asked me who I was planning to impress with my "pretty kitty," making me want to die a thousand deaths), and a boundary-crossing trip to Victoria's Secret (those sales clerks seriously have an issue with personal space), I was finally home and hopping in the shower. I really had no clue what I was doing, so I used my entire arsenal of girly, smelly stuff, from exfoliating body scrub to body oil, and everything in between. Wrapping myself with a towel afterwards, and buffed to within an ince of my life, I gazed at my reflection, my lips plump and rosy, and my skin glowing. So far, so good. Slathering myself in copious amounts of body lotion, I make my way over to my bed, where my outfit selections are awaiting final approval. Now, I'm faced with a dilemma. I bought a sexy black lace bra and panty set, which I plan to wear under my clothes, just because, but I feel the evening demands just that bit more. So, to the right lays my other purchase, a sheer black babydoll with matching panties. Covers just enough to leave a bit to the imagination, classy but not trashy. But, is it too much? I obviously can't wear it under my clothing, so I would have to change into it. Do I look like I'm trying too hard to be sexy? I mean, theoretically, the bra and panties could be enough - he'd rip my clothes off to find an awesome surprise. On the other hand, while romantic movies always make undressing your partner look super sexy, in reality somebody usually just gets their shirt tangled around their elbows, or trips over a pant leg. SO not romantic. Going with my gut, I put the baby doll set into my duffle, folding it carefully to avoid wrinkling it. After blow-drying my hair into soft waves and adding my toiletries to the duffle, I throw on a pair of dark blue skinnies, gray booties, and a flowy patterned button up, with the sleeves rolled to my elbows. I leave just the top couple of buttons undone. If I lean forward, he's gonna get a peek at today's purchase. The thought makes me grin a bit. Eyeing the clock, I see it's about half past three. Taking one last look at myself in the mirror, I set my shoulders back, mustering up as much confidence as possible, grab my things, and head out the door.