“Maybe someday, I guess. We’re really happy right now. Why do we have to do anything?”
“Well, don’t you want to have a family?”
“It’s not high on my radar screen, Mom. The business takes up a lot of my time. I’m kind of married to that.”
Lois just shook her head. “The business is not going to take care of you when you are old and sick.”
Mia knew it was time to distract Lois a little without totally blowing her off. “So, I’m assuming you like him and you approve.”
“Oh very much. He’s quite an improvement. I like that you’re closer in age and I think you have similar goals. And honestly, I don’t think he would ever give you the heartache that Tom did.”
“I agree.” Mia nodded. “Michael is a really stand up guy. And he does, he puts me first and he’s very caring. He’s a good egg, this one.”
Lois brought them to a screeching halt before they met up with the men in front of the Shubert Theatre. “So, if he gives you a ring, don’t be a fool. He’s a catch.”
All Mia could say was, “Oy.”
As they entered the elegant theatre with its gilded sgraffito frescos, Michael draped an arm over Mia’s shoulder, “So, does she approve?”
Mia rolled her eyes. “Pick a date,” was all she said.
Michael threw his head back in laughter.
“And while you’re at it, what do you want to name the first three kids? I told you they would love you.”
“I was actually nervous.” Michael confessed. “And I have a feeling if your mother doesn’t like someone it is not an easy road.”
“You are one smart man, Michael Portman, because you have that woman pegged.”
As they made it to their seats before the curtain went up on Chicago, Mia noticed Lois’ very satisfied look as she and Michael sat there holding hands and when he leaned over to kiss her, she caught the small smirk on her mother’s face.
If Lois had a mental checklist of what she wanted in a son-in-law, Michael Portman was scoring very high. Nice looking — check. Intelligent — check. Educated — check. Personable — check. Gainfully employed — check. Crazy about her daughter — check. Jewish — bonus check.
Michael Portman was Lois Silver’s perfect ideal for a son-in-law. Now if there was only a way to ensure that her daughter did not screw it up, Lois would be able to rest easy.
Chapter Thirty-six
“What are you doing, BBC?” Seth walked into Mia’s office and over to the window where she stood.
“I’m waving at Michael,” she laughed. “We said we’d go to our windows and wave at each other at exactly noon.”
“You and White Bread are waving at each other? Well, that is truly nauseating.” Seth’s top lip was actually sneering at Mia.
“When he was here last week, we were trying to figure out exactly where his office is. So, look at the North Tower.” Mia began.
“Which one is north?”
Pointing, “The one with all the TV and communications antennas on top. 110 is the top floor, go down six and that is the 105th floor and just in from the northwest corner is Michael’s office. He’s literally right below Windows on the World.” Mia stood pointing to a spot and Seth stood there looking at her as if she were insane.
“Ok, whatever,” and he turned on his heel and walked away.
Mia’s cell rang and she turned from her window to get the ringing phone off of her desk. Looking at the display, she flipped it open. “Hi Mom. What’s up?”
“Your father and I just booked flights to come up for Thanksgiving.”
“You’re coming up from Florida for Thanksgiving? Is everything ok?” Mia’s parents left for Florida in October and returned in April every year and if Mia wanted to see them in between, she had to fly down to Florida. Lois and Bob Silver swore never to step foot in New York City in cold weather again, so this was truly shocking news.
“Everything is fine. We just thought it would be nice to spend the holiday with you and Michael. You are spending it with him, aren’t you?”
Sitting down at her desk and pulling up her email, “You know what Mom, we haven’t even discussed it. I’ll send him an IM now.”
“What’s an IM?”
“Instant message. Hold on a second while I send it.”
Mia: We haven’t discussed Thanksgiving. What are your plans?
Michael: Well, what are your plans?
Mia: My mother just called. Am on the phone with her now. She and my dad are coming up. Maybe I’ll cook it. I hate going out on Thanksgiving.
Michael: Am I invited?
Mia: You’re making the stuffing! :)
Michael: I know what I’d like to be stuffing.
Mia: Michael Portman! You pig! (translates to “don’t get me horny during work with my mother hanging on the phone.)
Michael: LOL
“Ok, Mom. Michael is going to join us and we’re going to cook Thanksgiving at my apartment.”
“Maybe his parents would like to join us?”
“Mother … ”
“Don’t Mother me. I’d like to meet his parents. Have you met them?”
“Yes, I’ve met them. They are very nice.”
“Invite them. I’d like to meet them.” Lois demanded.
“You are an evil woman, Lois Silver.” Mia just shook her head. That woman was bound and determined to marry her off.
Mia: Michael, please extend the invitation to your parents. And I apologize in advance for whatever nefarious plan that evil mother of mine is hatching.”
Mia rolled over and bit Michael on the shoulder.
“Ouch, Demon.”
“Wake up. The parade is on and we have to start cooking.” Mia poked him in the ribs.
Michael rolled over and opened one eye. Mia put her nose against his, also opening one eye.
“We’re going to have both sets of parents here today. Are you scared yet?” Michael kissed Mia’s lips softly.
“I’ve been scared shitless since Lois told me she booked a flight.”
“I’m glad I picked up all that wine last night.” Michael’s face was saying, “Yikes.”
“Is it too early to start drinking?”
“Probably a little bit. But it’s definitely not too early to start stuffing.” Michael rolled on top of Mia and pulled her hands over her head. “Or trussing for that matter.”
“Are you calling me a turkey?”
“Mmm-hmm,” he started to softly nibble at her neck. “Do you know in my house, people fight over the neck.”
“Well, in this house,” and Mia could not help but moan as Michael’s teeth grazed her neck, “you are the only one allowed to eat this turkey’s neck.”
“I’m the only one allowed to eat this turkey’s breast,” and he bent his head down and sucked a nipple into his mouth and bit down, the pleasurable pain causing Mia to writhe and moan and free a hand to pull his hair.
“Oh, we have a feisty turkey, I see.” Michael smiled up at her with his sweet smile.
“Actually, you have a moist turkey.” Mia couldn’t wipe the smile off of her face.
“That’s a very good thing because no one likes a dry turkey.”
“Well, there’s always gravy.” Mia added.
“I’ve got plenty of gravy for you, Babe, but still, no one likes a dry turkey.”
“Poor dry turkeys. I feel for them.”
Michael’s lips trailed softly down Mia’s stomach, causing her to writhe even more. “Now a lot of people like the thigh, ‘cause it’s meaty and juicy.”
“I’d venture to say that I’m pretty juicy right now.”
Licking a trail on the inside of Mia’s thigh, along her bikini line, followed by his teeth grazing the same trail caused every muscle in Mia’s pussy to contract.
“You’re killing me.”
Michael laughed, not removing his face from between her legs, “Well, that’s good, no one likes to eat a live turkey,” and with that he spread open the outer
lips of her pussy and started to feast. First taking his tongue and licking out all the wetness, followed by spreading her open wider and sucking and licking and then focusing on sucking her clit into his mouth and then nibbling.
“Oh, God. Michael.” Mia’s crossed her legs in the air, clamping her thighs to the side of his head and using her feet to press him deeper into her slit. Bucking into his face, she could hear her own sounds through a cotton curtain, before it drew away and sight and sound returned.
With a satisfied smirk, he laid his chin on her lower belly looking up at her. “Did you say I was on stuffing?” he laughed. Getting up onto his knees, he pulled Mia up into a sitting position (which was no easy feat because after her orgasm she was like jelly), and positioned her over the tip of his cock.
With a smile he couldn’t wipe off his face, “Ready to get stuffed, Turkey.” And he rammed Mia down on his cock.
Mia gasped, still tender as Michael repeatedly rammed her down on his cock. She squeezed him tightly with her pussy muscles, loving the wince and groan she evoked from him with every squeeze.
“I have a feeling I’m about to be stuffed and basted.” Mia leaned forward and kissed him, tasting herself on his lips.
“You’ve got that right,” and he held her down tightly as he unleashed into her.
Mia eased off the bed a few minutes later and reached out a hand to Michael. “Ready to go cook?”
Smiling, he took her hand, “I thought we already had,” and they headed toward the kitchen to cook their first holiday meal together.
Michael was bringing in the last of the dishes and stacking the dishwasher, as Mia hand washed the delicate wine glasses.
“I think that’s the last of it,” he announced. Going over to the big roasting pan, he picked up the turkey baster, “What would you like to do with this?” he asked, suggestively.
Putting a red wine goblet face down on a sheet of paper towel to dry, Mia reached into the sink and pulled out a metal object. “Well, then there is always this,” she looked him square in the eye. “You know what to do with a meat thermometer, don’t you?”
“Insert into meat,” he pulled Mia into his arms. “They don’t really need dessert, do they? Would it be rude to kick them out now?” He laughed. His mom and Lois were chatting at the dining room table and the men were on the couch, both snoring, while the Minnesota Vikings were trouncing the Dallas Cowboys on the TV. “I’m thinking Pumpkin Pie in bed.”
“Have I ever told you that Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.”
Michael bent down for a kiss. “Have I ever told you that you are my favorite dish.” With Mia’s face in both hands, they got lost in their kiss.
Both mothers walked into the kitchen to see what was taking dessert so long to be served and looked at one another, both clearly pleased at seeing their children lost in a passionate kiss. The women left the kitchen, unnoticed.
“Ok, let’s get that pot of coffee on. The quicker we serve dessert, the quicker they are all out and we get our couch back.” Mia was already envisioning snuggling up with Michael to an old movie or a holiday classic.
“Am on it.” Michael smiled.
Chapter Thirty-seven
New Year’s Eve and the second annual party at Charles’ brownstone. At 11:45 P.M., Michael pulled Mia out into the backyard. Wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to his chest, he whispered in her ear, “Happy Anniversary, Baby.”
Smiling up at him, Mia realized how much more sane and stable her life was because of Michael. He was steady and calming and just there for her. Whether it was business or personal issues that she was bouncing off of him, Michael’s responses were intelligent and thoughtful. Her initial impression of him from one year before had not changed. The year 2000 had probably been the most stable year of her life and the happiest one in a very long time.
“It’s cold out here. Brrrr.” Mia was hopping up and down to keep warm.
“I just wanted to get you alone, away from everyone. And this is where it all started exactly a year ago.” Bending down, Michael kissed Mia tenderly.
Mia wrapped her arms around Michael’s waist. His body heat felt good in the frigid night air. “You are the best thing that has happened to me in a very long time, Michael.”
“I love you, Mia.”
She pulled away from his chest and looked up at him. Say it, she screamed at herself, say it. He is wonderful. Say it. The thought of not having him in her world was painful to just think about. So, it must be love, she thought. But it still didn’t feel the same. It felt comfortable and it felt fulfilling. It just wasn’t all-consuming. And maybe this is what healthy love feels like, Mia thought. It was hard to know. Just say it, an inner voice screamed. She could feel the smile on her face growing as she looked up at his sweet face.
“Hey, get in here, you’re going to miss the ball drop.” Seth screamed from the door.
Mia grabbed Michael’s hand and headed toward the house. This year she didn’t release his hand before entering. Pulling his hand and arm over her shoulder, she leaned back into him as they did the countdown in front of the TV. As it turned to 2001, Mia turned to Michael. This year there was not awkwardness between them as they shared the first kiss of the New Year.
Michael took Mia’s face in his hands, “Here’s looking at you, Kid.”
Wrapping her arms around his waist, Mia smushed her face into his chest. What a sweetheart, she thought and felt overwhelmed with guilt for not saying I love you back to him. The truth was she did love him. Very much. He had really grown on her and she felt very safe with him. Yet, it still wasn’t that all-consuming, over-the-top, crazy OCD love that she wanted to be consumed by — that she knew existed. That she knew she was capable of feeling. But it was a comforting, secure love. Her mother’s words, that no two loves were ever the same, seemed to be very astute.
Pulling away from his chest, Mia looked up at him.
“What?” He cocked his head to the side. “What’s that look?”
Giving him a devil grin, she grabbed his hand and headed for the back door.
Michael looked surprised as Mia led him out into the cold night.
“What’s up?”
“We didn’t finish our conversation.”
“You’re right, we didn’t.” Mia’s heart ached at the concern in his eyes as he was clearly not sure what would be coming at him next.
“So, I think we should finish it.”
“Ok,” trepidation had entered his voice.
“I love you, Michael.”
The shock that registered on his face was classic. He appeared to have been stealing himself for not such a happy admission.
His smile was slow. But it was a sweet smile that immediately reached his eyes.
They both stood there, not moving in the cold night, frozen in a moment, each understanding that a chasm had been bridged.
Michael was the first one to speak. “C’mere, you.” He pulled Mia snugly against him. “I didn’t expect that. I honestly didn’t know how you’d react,” and in her ear he whispered, “I’m so happy right now. You can’t even imagine what hearing you say those words does to me.”
And in her heart, Mia felt good. Knowing that she was making a sweetheart like Michael Portman happy, made her incredibly happy.
Maybe this is what love really is all about, she thought, laying her cheek against the warmth of Michael’s chest. The new millennium was treating her just fine.
Chapter Thirty-eight
Appearing like a beacon in the doorway of her office in his fire engine red cashmere sweater and pink scarf with funky red hearts, Seth announced, “BBC, you’d better get going. You don’t want to keep White Bread waiting.”
“Stop calling him that.” Mia looked up from her computer, clearly annoyed.
Seth rolled his eyes and sat down across from her. “You know I like him. He’s impossible not to like. I just like fucking with you because I know it irritates you.”
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Seth threw his head back in laughter. “I’m channeling Lois. It’s true. So, now put on a little lip gloss before you leave and are you sure you don’t want to take me to Chanterelle with you?”
“Don’t you have a date tonight?”
“I do,” Seth preened, “but I’d gladly blow him off for a dinner at Chanterelle.”
“So, blow him and tell him to take you to Chanterelle.” Mia smirked at Seth.
Standing up, he sneered at her, “Obnoxious BBC,” and as he turned away, “now put on some lip gloss and get out of here or you will be late and White Bread might get stale.”
“God, you’re a bitch.” Mia muttered under her breath.
“Yes, I am,” he proudly retorted.
Packing up her desk, Mia leaned forward to smell the flower arrangement Michael had sent. Mia was never a huge fan of Valentine’s Day, but the bright flowers on a dreary, grey winter’s day had kind of an Oz in Kansas effect on her.
Heading out into the cold, wet dusk, Mia hailed a cab and told the driver Two Harrison Street. Chanterelle was one of the most feel good restaurants in New York City — airy, with ample space between the tables (a rarity in New York City), high ceilings and walls painted a soothing shade of pale yellow and, of course, Chef David Waltuck’s divine tasting menu. Mia’s mouth was starting to water at the thought as the cab driver turned south crawling through the rush hour traffic. Turning west onto Washington Street for an easier run down through the West Village, the cab soared past some of Mia’s favorite brownstone lined blocks. They were hitting the lights just right and the cabbie appeared to be proud of himself and his driving prowess.
Their traffic light good luck run ended two blocks before Harrison Street when they hit a red light at the corner of Washington and N. Moore Street. Mia looked at the sign and thought N. Moore, great — just what I need in my head on Valentine’s Day — that ancient ghost to haunt my heart. She sat back on the squeaky black leather seat and closed her eyes and for the first time in a very long time, she could see him clearly, the way he looked on a mountaintop, the look in his eyes when he looked at her and immediately she felt the pang in her heart. It wasn’t that pang of pain, at least not at first. At first, it was that feeling in her heart — that feeling of overwhelming joy. The need to breathe every breath with and for this man. That elusive something that she yearned to feel again. Yearned to call her own. Yearned to share. Fuck, she thought, as she quickly wiped the tears from her cheek that had immediately made their escape. Just fuck. This haunted heart simply will not let me be.
Moore to Lose Page 18
