by Whitley Cox
“Unlike Mom.”
He nodded. “Exactly. Unlike Mom.”
Violet let out a big exhale, she traced her index finger around the rim of her water glass. “She just looked at me with such disappointment, you know? Like I’d just kicked a soccer ball through the picture window and knocked over grandma’s urn.”
Mitch’s mouth slid into a small smile. “You’re welcome for me taking the blame for that, by the way.”
Violet leaned over and pecked him on the cheek. “I am forever in your debt, big brother.”
He patted her leg. “I’ll talk to her. Help her see the light.”
Violet grabbed his beer and took a sip. She didn’t drink during the week, but at the moment she needed just a small hit of something harder than the cucumber water she was currently drinking. “Good luck. She told me to tell you to take a video of Jayda’s performance.”
Mitch twisted his lips in thought. “I’ll see what I can do.” He stood taking the now empty beer bottle from her hand and heading to the kitchen. “Would you like a beer?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m okay, thanks.”
Seconds later he returned to the couch and handed her a beer anyway. “Medicine. Big brother knows best.”
She took a long swig and let the cool brew slide down her throat into her stomach, immediately feeling better about everything. “Thanks,” she said, wiping the back of her wrist over her mouth. “Big brothers really do know best.”
Mitch tapped his nose. “And don’t you forget it.”
21
It was the Friday before Art in the Park, and although Adam knew he and Violet should be doing one last rehearsal, he couldn’t imagine being indoors on such a beautiful evening. Mira was staying the night with her grandparents. Paige worked late, but she had initiated the idea of Mira sleeping over. She wanted to start seeing more of her daughter and planned to spend all of Saturday, besides their time at Art in the Park, with Mira.
Mira had been very excited when Adam brought up the idea of a slumber party.
She’d packed her child-size pink and purple suitcase days in advance, stuffing it with more clothes than she would need for a month at the South Pole and at least nine of her favorite stuffed animals. But Adam didn’t stop her. He was just happy that his daughter and her mother were going to be spending some quality time together.
Adam was busy at the college finishing up on a grant proposal when an idea popped into his head. When was the last time Violet had been taken on a date? A proper date? A romantic date? He grabbed his phone and texted her.
You free tonight?
She texted back almost immediately. The clock on his phone said she was done teaching for the day. Hopefully, she hadn’t had dinner yet.
Just finishing up at the studio. What’s up? One last practice?
Nah. We got this. Let’s do something fun.
You don’t think dancing with me is fun?
I know it’s fun. Especially when you’re naked and then once we take a bow, I take you up against the mirror, hard and fast. But it’s too beautiful a night not to get outside. Let’s go on a date?
A date?
Yeah. We are dating, aren’t we?
Where and when?
Thirty minutes? I can come get you.
See you soon.
“Where are we going?” Violet asked as they drove up a long hill. Gorgeous new houses with that much-coveted horizontal wood paneling stood square, tall and worth millions as they continued on up into the prestigious neighborhood.
“I thought we could go for a walk,” he said with a smile.
“You’re going to make me exercise on our date?” she teased.
He smiled and reached for her hand. “Only if you’re a good girl.” His eyebrow bob said their idea of exercise greatly differed.
He pulled the car up to a dead end and parked along a gravel trail. They hopped out, and even from where they’d parked, the view from the hillside was pretty impressive. The whole city center at dusk was laid out like a beautiful blanket. You could see it all: the Space Needle, CenturyLink Field, The Great Wheel. The ferries going across Elliott Bay and off toward Canada looked like nothing more than toy boats as they slid effortlessly through the still calm of the water.
Adam grabbed a backpack from the back of his SUV and headed off in the direction of a marked trail. “Come on. Not too far to the top.”
They continued on for a few more minutes, the path a mixture of rocks and moss, grass and marked trail. A wooden fence kept precious Mother Nature safe and sound from curious boots and adventure hikers who liked to blaze their own trail. They were at the top in no time.
Following Adam’s lead, they wandered around the top and made their way down a side trail until they were several feet below the summit and hidden behind a small overhang. He pulled a beautiful, multi-colored Mexican blanket from the backpack and spread it out over the grass and moss. She sat down and brought out her phone, making sure she captured this incredible evening for later.
“Wine?” he asked, waggling a thermos in front of her face with two inconspicuous red plastic cups.
“Please.” She grinned. “You think of everything.”
“Well,” he said, pouring them each a cup, “what’s cheese without wine?”
She stopped snapping pictures of the view with her phone and stared at him. “You brought cheese?”
“Of course. Can’t have wine without cheese.”
Violet laughed. Then her stomach grumbled at the mention of cheese. “No, I suppose you can’t. What kind?”
Reaching into the bag, he tried to hide what he was doing by shielding the contents with his big frame, showing her his back. Playfully, she tried to see around him.
“Hey! No peeking.”
With a smile, she sat back on her elbows and shut her eyes, enjoying the way the evening sun warmed her face and eased the stress in her muscles.
“Open your mouth,” he ordered. She could already smell whatever he was about to feed her. Her mouth watered. She did as she was told, only to have a rough and hard cracker placed against her tongue. “Take a bite.”
“Mmm,” she hummed, chewing what could only be cranberry chevre on a baked crisp. “That’s delicious.” She opened her eyes. “Was that cranberry goat cheese?”
“How’d you know?”
“Cheese is my thing. You’d have to go to a specialty shop or an import store to really throw me for a loop.” Smiling, she opened her mouth so he could feed her the second bite, the eroticism of him feeding her not lost on her in the least. Warmth spooled through her, spreading out into her limbs and settling in her core.
He made a mock pout before popping a cracker in his own mouth. “And here I thought I was going to feed you something you’ve never tried before.”
She took a sip of her wine and looked out to the horizon. “It was still a surprise. And I love chevre and cranberries. Good choice.”
Twisting his lips in a determined frown, he turned and began rummaging around in the bag again. “I’ve got a couple more tricks up my sleeve. Close your eyes.”
She rolled her eyes before closing them. “Well, if it’s cheese, you really can do no wrong.”
“Open.”
“Mmm,” she hummed again. A hard, nutty and buttery cheese rolled around on her tongue. Violet opened her eyes and quickly took a sip of her wine, letting the flavors meld and mix in a sweet and savory explosion. “You’ve stumped me. What’s that one? It’s delicious.”
He reached for the package. “Zamorano, from Spain. It’s made from sheep’s milk.”
He offered her another slice, and she took it willingly. “I’ve never tried it before. That was lovely.”
His abrupt fist pump of success had her laughing. “All right, one more. Let’s see if I can surprise you one more time.”
She closed her eyes again. “Well it’s definitely a blue cheese. I can smell it from here.” She chuckled.
“Open. Wider.”
“Jeez, what are you feeding me? The whole round?” But her words were halted by a deluge of more flavors. Chewing, she opened her eyes and went for more wine. “Well, I know that there was meat in there, salami maybe? Or prosciutto? And maybe a piece of fruit?”
He smiled, clearly getting his own high from having been able to pull a fast one on her. “It was salami wrapped around a piece of fig and Cabrales.”
“Cabrales? Where’s that one from?”
“It’s another Spanish one.”
She popped another piece into her mouth. “Mmm, well, I think it’s my favorite of the three.”
She hadn’t even noticed in all their taste-testing and the opening and closing of her eyes that the sky had changed color. Deep indigos and violets now painted the sky, while the first stars of the evening started to sparkle overheard. They sat in silence for a little while, eating cheese and drinking wine and just enjoying each other’s company. It was the perfect date.
“I think this is our first date,” he finally said, after a little while and having poured her more wine.
“No … it can’t be.”
He nodded. “I think it might be.”
“But … what about … ” She was stymied. She couldn’t think of another time where they’d gone out and done something like a normal couple. Sure, they slept together, danced together and spent time together when Mira was with her mother, but they hadn’t really been out on a date-date.
He yawned and stretched his arms over his head, bringing one down over her shoulder. “So.” He inched closer to her until their bodies were touching. “You know I wouldn’t think any less of you or that you were easy if you put out on the first date.” He was adorable. “I mean, even second or third base would be cool.”
She shook her head and smiled. “Yeah? Is that so? Do you promise to still have me home by curfew? My big brother might beat you up if you bring me home too late.”
“Home and in bed.” He winked, and his hand began to creep over her shoulder and down the front of her top. “Mira is spending the night at her grandparents’. We have the night and house to ourselves.”
She smacked the curious hand and made a mock face of surprise. “Getting fresh, now, are we?”
Cheese and wine forgotten, she was beneath him in the blink of an eye. “As fresh as you’ll let me get.” He growled, nipping her bottom lip before peppering wet, hot kisses down her neck and chest.
“We can’t … not up here,” she panted, her body betraying her brain as it had been known to do when Adam was lying on top of her, hard and ready. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she pulled his mouth down to hers. He tasted like wine and cheese and summer.
“We can. No one’s up here at this hour. No one can see us. And if we keep the majority of our clothes on, just taking off what’s necessary, you can protect your modesty. But as for your virtue … ” He chuckled. A determined hand snaked its way up her skirt and beneath her underwear.
Caught up in the moment, drunk on wine, incredible cheese and just being with Adam on such a beautiful and romantic night, she gave in to temptation, gave in to the need, the freedom, the forbidden. She made quick work of the zipper on his shorts, fishing him out and stroking him in her palm. Each of them pleasured the other with their hands while lips roamed and bit, kissed and sucked.
“I’m so glad you’re wearing a skirt.” He groaned, shifting until they lined up, and then thrust forward. They both let out an oof from the unexpected impact.
It was quick and quiet but no less exhilarating. They were outside, on public property, a nature sanctuary of all places, on a beautiful star-filled summer night, making love. It was what poets wrote about and teenage girls dreamt about. They didn’t bother changing positions and kept their clothes on, just shifting fabric where they needed to. If anyone did see them, although they’d probably know what they were up to, there was no indecent exposure.
The heady rush of their wild exhibitionism sent Violet’s entire body into overdrive, and even without much foreplay, she was wanton and greedy, clinging to Adam as he hammered her into the rock. The thin blanket was all that protected her head from the harsh and unforgiving earth.
She didn’t care.
Each thrust and head smack was a reminder of where they were and what they were doing. The stars above glittered and winked, watching them. Fueled by passion, they found release under the watchful eye of the cosmos.
Using Adam’s shoulder as a means to stifle her cries, she bit down hard, her entire body contracting and clenching around him as the pleasure tore through her.
“That’s right, baby.” He murmured next to her ear, continuing to pound into her, searching for his own climax. “Come, come hard.”
When she found her way back down to earth and the high from her orgasm dissipated, Adam was still going at it, using her, worshipping her, filling her.
“Switch positions,” he ordered. “Straddle me while I sit up.”
Yes, please. She loved this position.
He slid out and sat up, leaning back against the side of the bluff they were sheltered behind. She swung her leg over his lap and lowered herself down, her entire body relaxing and letting out a contented sigh when she was once again full.
“Ah.” He grinned. “Much better. Now I can see you, and I get to play with these.” He fished her breasts out of the top of her pale blue tank top. The tip of his tongue grazed her nipples. She began to ride him, bobbing up and down while he tweaked and tormented her achy buds.
Each long, luxurious stroke of him inside her stirred her need. Using the rock behind him for leverage, she picked up speed, sinking deeper and harder, using momentum to spur her forward. Adam’s mouth and hands never ceased on her breasts. Tweaking and tugging, biting and sucking. She bowed her back to give him better access, loving the wet heat of his tongue and the way he scissored his teeth across her tender peaks.
Moving one hand down to her clit, she drew rough circles on the swollen nub, feeling herself grow against her fingers until even sound seemed to disappear and all she was left with was sensation, the feeling of Adam inside her. Around her. One with her.
Moments later he stilled, grunted and spilled his release inside her. His mouth latched on to the other nipple, and he sucked hard. Another orgasm, even more intense than the first, took her body by storm.
They sat there for several long, quiet moments, letting their heart rates settle and breathing relax. Adam planted feather-light kisses along her shoulders and chest. She played with the hair that brushed the nape of his neck. Still connected, they just sat there. He pointed out a few constellations, the well-known ones like the Big and Little Dippers, as well as a few she hadn’t been aware of, like Hercules and Sagittarius. Even without the crazy-hot outdoor sex, it had been the perfect date and hands-down one of the best dates she’d ever been on. But the fact that Adam made her feel comfortable in her own skin and encouraged her, without pushing too hard, to let her guard down and enjoy life again and the pleasures it offered made the whole thing even more amazing.
She was falling in love with this man, mind, body and soul. She only hoped that he felt the same way. She only hoped she was ready.
22
The next day was Saturday. Independence Day, the day of the big Art in the Park exhibition, and unlike the hours leading up to her performances in New York, Violet was a nervous wreck.
Back in their heyday, when they’d been the talk of New York and the performing arts industry, Violet and Jean-Phillipe had performed six nights a week. They rehearsed during the day, took a four-hour break and then performed in the evening. So by the time she was six months into her rigorous schedule of dancing in front of an audience every night, Violet no longer had stage fright.
Jean-Phillipe had helped her overcome that.
An hour before the show would start, they would go into the studio and sit down on the floor in front of the mirror. The lights would be off, and there would be no music, but together they would go thr
ough the entire performance in their heads. Not saying a word, but counting the steps in time with the music and envisioning the two of them together on stage.
Once they were finished, they would turn to face each other, hold hands and meditate. And during this meditation they were not allowed to think about dancing. They had to free their minds as best they could and dig down deep into their bodies and pull out all the negativity from the day, from the week, from the month and push it away.
At first, she’d giggled through a lot of it, thinking Jean-Phillipe was off his rocker, but over time, she began to understand why he had them meditate, why he had them push away the negativity. The performing arts industry was full of it. There was always a critic, always someone out to usurp your spotlight, and that could weigh you down, hinder your performance and take away the joy and reason why you became a performer in the first place.
Soon she looked forward to their hour together in the dark, in the quiet. She discovered a lot about herself and the way she let other people’s opinions shape her. Her mother’s being one of the most influential opinions.
A dancer herself, but not nearly as successful as Violet, Greta had pushed Violet hard. She’d been the typical dance mom. She even monitored Violet’s eating. Not that Violet was ever overweight; she wasn’t sure she ever could be. She just wasn’t built like that. But Greta had shamed Violet early on when she would indulge in a treat now and then, saying that Violet was lucky she was born with a dancer’s body and many women would kill for such a figure, so how dare she abuse it by stuffing a cupcake into her face at her friend’s eleventh birthday party?
Yeah, her mom was that mom.
Jean-Phillipe said it was because Greta was jealous. And she probably was.
Violet had the life, the body, the dancing career her mother always wanted. Greta wasn’t blessed with height or a narrow waist, barely-there chest or long legs. Violet had inherited all that from her father’s side. Her mother was short, curvy and big-chested. And as hard as she’d tried to make it in the dancing world, she just couldn’t get there and eventually gave up by the time she was seventeen, heading to college instead of dance school.
