Love Love

by Beth Michele

  “Thanks, hon. I appreciate it.”

  “Anything for you. So, how do you feel this morning?”

  “Drained. All that therapy I went through so I could heal from that nightmare. My mother dragged me every week for four freaking years. There’s no way I can let him back in my life again. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I know that I don’t ever want to see that dirtbag again. I don’t care how much he told my mom he’s changed. He doesn’t exist in my life.”

  “I know, Fran. It’s going to be okay. I promise you.” I hesitate for a second. “Have you told Kyle about all this?”

  She exhales a large breath. “No, not yet.”

  I cover her hand with mine. “I really think you should, Fran. If your dad is serious, you’re going to need all the support you can get.”

  ***

  Sex on a Sunday. That’s what I wake up thinking…There’s nothing like the tantalizing thought of emerald eyes and wandering hands. Dane continues to blow my mind in the sexual arena and I’m looking forward to another round tonight. He definitely has a gift, that’s for sure. If you can consider excelling at giving pleasure a gift. I’ll gladly accept it anytime, no twisting of the arm necessary.

  I’ve had sex before, but he’s certainly raised the bar. His prowess in this particular area is not unexpected, given that he’s an Adonis. Sex appeal drips from every sinew of his sensuous, chiseled body, like warm chocolate pouring seductively from a fountain. Thick, hot, rich.

  I need a cold shower.

  My fashion stylist has chosen my dress for the evening, and apparently it needs to be sexy with a burst of color, like the mint green stretch satin dress with the spaghetti straps that’s cut far above the knee. According to Fran, it shows just the right amount of cleavage, while still leaving something to the imagination.

  I’m sitting on a chair in our makeshift beauty salon in the bathroom, getting ready for Fran to do my hair. I peek up at her. “So, do you think he’ll be turned on by my day of the week undies?”

  Fran’s mouth hangs open and she nearly drops the hairbrush. “You did not!” she screams out. She’s so fun to tease and I can’t resist.

  I giggle. “Of course not! But don’t act so offended, you used to wear them in elementary and middle school, remember?”

  A happy noise escapes her throat. “Yeah, I remember. In fact, even then I remember Friday was my favorite day. I seem to remember that you used to wear them too, chickie, even in high school…”

  “They made really cute ones! I can’t help it! I was addicted.” I look around the room covertly and whisper, “truth be told, I still have a pair hidden away in my keepsake box. The ones I was wearing when I lost my virginity to Clark. It was Thursday.” I do have a tendency to save things.

  Fran looks at me like she’s either going to vomit or burst into giggles, and I know she’s torn between the thought of dirty underwear in my keepsake box and my sickeningly sweet nostalgia. “Please tell me they’ve been washed.”

  “Of course they have! I just couldn’t throw them away. They represent something very special to me.” I sigh and wipe away a tear.

  A hint of laughter tickles her throat before she leans down and kisses my cheek. “That’s one of the things I love about you…you’re so sentimental.” She playfully swats me with the hairbrush. “Okay, enough of this sentimental shit, let’s get back to hair.”

  Fran does my hair in a sexy, casual updo with soft strands dangling on each side of my face. Neck exposure is always good and it encourages nibbling. I like that.

  I push back on the makeup, as usual. She wants dramatic and I want simple, so we compromise and go heavier on my pout. Lancome lipstick in Berry Sensual. Seems very fitting.

  Fran spins me around, then stands back. “You look amazing, Gabby.”

  “Thanks,” I mumble.

  “I don’t get you, Gabby. Why don’t you seem excited? Dane is super hot, he’s rich, he wines and dines you…”

  I feel like pulling my hair down and ripping off these clothes already. “Fran, the sex is definitely hot, and he totally turns me on, but you know this is just a physical thing…a good distraction.”

  Her hands immediately go to her hips and her foot starts that tapping thing. “Does Dane know that Gabby? I mean, why don’t you open yourself up? Who knows what could happen?”

  Staring down at the carpet, I tell her “He’s just…”

  She cuts me off. “Stop thinking so much, and just enjoy yourself. Leave yourself open to possibility.”

  The truth is that I don’t see possibility. I don’t really connect with Dane on anything other than sex. It’s hard to admit, even to myself that he’s just a “fuck buddy.” At the same time though it’s kind of nice not to have to worry about an attachment.

  Taking one last glance in the mirror, I hardly recognize my reflection. I’m not even sure I like who I see. It doesn’t look like me. Oh well.

  When I get to Dane’s hotel, a tingling excitement comes over me, and I already feel a dampness between my thighs. Eyeing his hotel room door, it feels like I’m about to enter the dragon’s lair. I knock once and wait for the dragon to appear. Unfortunately, when he does, he looks less like a mythical beast and more like a dashing knight. He’s wearing his trademark black pants and a green button-down shirt that reveals a tiny bit of tanned skin. We match perfectly, almost as if we planned it.

  “Gabby, you look absolutely breathtaking.” He runs a hand casually from my neck to the hem of my extremely short dress.

  My whole body shivers.

  He invites me into his suite and I immediately notice the table for two complete with white linen tablecloth, candlelight and a bottle of champagne. Very Dane. Taking my hand, he leads me over to the table and pulls out my chair. Always the gentleman, at least for the time being.

  I take in our surroundings. “Wow, Dane, you went all out tonight.”

  He reaches for my hand and drops a kiss on my palm. “I wanted it to be special for you.”

  We dine on a luscious meal of brown butter scallops over linguini which is seriously to die for. As we eat, Dane talks a lot about his work…again.

  “I just landed this big client that the agency’s been trying to snag for the past two years. I was able to put a unique spin on their marketing strategy. We had a meeting the other day and I laid out several concepts. They were extremely impressed and now they’re hooked.”

  Actually, Dane talks about himself a lot. Maybe I’ve just been ignoring it, but the evidence is glaring tonight. He’s pretty self-absorbed. This seems to be a recurring theme in my life; my mom, my dad, my sister. As he continues to talk, I try to appear attentive, though I’ve completely zoned out. I’m wondering if the hotel has any chocolate cake for dessert.

  “Gabby?” he finally asks, bringing me out of my fog.

  “Yes.”

  “Am I boring you?”

  Yes, very much. “No, not at all. I enjoy hearing about your work. It’s very interesting.”

  “Would you like some more champagne?”

  You don’t have to get me drunk, I’m pretty much a sure thing. “That’d be great, thanks.”

  After pouring more champagne, Dane stands and extends his hand. Before I’m even up on my feet, he descends on me like a wild animal. He’s no longer a knight. His hands are fisting in my hair and his tongue engulfs mine with bold, fiery licks. Hot, heavy breaths fall into my mouth as he continues his onslaught. I feel his hands all over my body…stroking, touching, and squeezing while his rock hard chest pushes against the fullness of my breasts. He turns me on and fills me with a desperate lust that I seem to need right now. Panting heavily, I roll my hips against his, begging him with my body to seduce me. He answers by slowly sliding the thin straps of satin down my heated arms, then slipping the soft fabric down past my breasts, past my hips, until it drops to the floor. I’m not wearing a bra. His eyes are immediately riveted to my chest and he licks his lips, pulling me harder against him so I feel every i
nch of his arousal. Small moans leave my lips and I hear him gasp as he whispers, "your tits are fucking amazing." His words and the burst of air leaving his mouth bounce off my skin, making me hot and wet between my legs.

  I unbutton his shirt as he rolls his thumb and forefinger over my nipples, squeezing ever so lightly and causing me to whimper.

  “I want to taste those sweet nipples,” he says, lowering his head and taking me in his mouth.

  I stifle a giggle at his words. There’s dirty talk and then there’s porno talk. He’s walking a fine line.

  His breathing quickens and I inhale the soft, spicy scent wafting through the air as my fingertips scrape his chest, glide the linen fabric off, and toss it to the ground. My eyes move lower and I see that his pants have already joined his shirt, his arousal bulging through the seam of his shorts. Pressing his eager body against mine, my thighs are suddenly aching for him.

  Dane pushes me against the wall, tearing at my soaked panties, while he exposes the silky hardness waiting for me. “You’re so damn wet,” he groans.

  His head and tongue move lower until I realize where he’s headed, and I fist my hands in his hair and bring his mouth back to mine. That level of intimacy isn’t something I’m willing to share with him. His lips make their way back down to my nipples, sucking and licking the hardened crest.

  “You taste so fucking good.”

  My head falls back and loud moans pour out of me as he brings me close to the edge. He leans up and enters me with one powerful thrust and I gasp at the intense contact. His large hands palm my breasts as he glides in and out, causing more hungry sounds to leave my berry- stained lips, the smell of champagne flowing out of my mouth.

  The smooth, hard wall is pressing against my back, cooling the raw heat we’re creating with our scorching bodies.

  “I love to fuck you, Gabby!” is accompanied by loud grunting noises.

  Puffs of breath blow on my searing skin, making my body tremble uncontrollably. He pushes inside me harder and harder and I long to arch my back, to absorb the intensity of his thrusts into that deep space between my quivering thighs. I feel the pressure building and a sudden need for release, my mouth letting out loud cries of pleasure. Our breathing accelerates and our bodies are wound to the brink.

  “God, Gabby, my cock is so hard, I’m gonna come.”

  We finally climax together and sink to the floor, exhausted and breathless, each of us seeking the calm after our sensual storm.

  “That was amazing, Gabby.”

  Barely having the strength to speak, I just nod my head, my eyes requesting permission to close for a much needed rest. A few minutes go by and I’m finally able to pull myself together long enough to mumble, “I should get going.”

  “Don’t go, Gabby. I’d really like you to stay.”

  “I’d love to, but I have an early meeting tomorrow morning.” Gathering my clothes off the floor, I make my way to the bathroom to dress. Digging around the cabinets, I’ve opened five before I actually find a washcloth. As my hand is cleaning between my thighs, I’m reminded of when Clark did this for me in his gentle, sweet way. This couldn’t be more different. My knees start to give out and I suddenly feel faint, needing to lean against the shower door to try to hold myself up.

  After several minutes I hear Dane calling. “Gabby, you okay in there?”

  “Yeah. I’ll be out in a minute.” I latch onto the sink and look in the mirror, staring blankly. Blank is exactly how I feel. Putting myself back into my pre-sex state, I walk out to find Dane waiting for me by the door.

  He eyes me like a tiger. “Thanks for tonight, Gabby. I had a really nice time.”

  Thanks for the wall sex, you mean. “So did I, Dane. Thank you.”

  ***

  Why do Mondays always suck? I feel like I never catch a break. This particular Monday happens to be the morning after my wall sex, and I wake up to a stomach that feels like it’s being stabbed with an ice pick. I hold onto it and run to the bathroom. My best guess is the brown butter scallops. Thanks, Dane. Standing over the toilet, heaving and freezing cold is not the way I pictured today. After my stomach is completely emptied and I feel a bit better, I manage to call and let Robby know I won’t be coming to work today. Then I slide back under the fabric of my sky blue comforter and drift off.

  Hours later, I awaken to the buzz of my phone. In my sleepy haze, I almost knock it off the nightstand. It’s Brad.

  “Hey, Gabby.”

  Half-asleep, I try to sit myself up on the bed. My throat is hoarse and extremely sore from all the vomiting. “Hey, Brad.”

  “You don’t sound so good, are you okay?” He seems concerned.

  I lie back down. “I’m not feeling well.”

  “What’s wrong?” He sounds a bit anxious actually.

  “I’ve got a stomachache and chills and I’ve been throwing up all morning.”

  “How about some chicken noodle soup?”

  “What?” The thought of eating anything right now doesn’t appeal to me.

  He speaks softly. “I’ll bring you some soup.”

  “Really, Brad, you don’t have to do that.” I know I won’t be able to eat it, but I don’t want to offend him.

  “I want to. Is there anything else you need? Crackers? Ginger ale?”

  “No, I’m good, thanks.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you in a flash.”

  “Let me guess, superhero flight?”

  He laughs. “Nah, my cape’s at the cleaners. See you soon.”

  I slowly sit up again and try to breathe. My hair is stuck to my face with a mix of sweat and vomit. I stumble out of bed and head for the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, I’m greeted by a pale face and droopy eyes. How attractive. I take a quick shower to wash all the nastiness off, then dry myself, put some deodorant on, and run a brush through my wet hair. What’s the matter with me? It’s Brad, for heaven’s sake. Yes, it’s Brad. Better brush my teeth, too.

  I replace my bathrobe with a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. And a bra. The least I can do is not look like a granny when he gets here. Forty-five minutes later, the doorbell rings and there he is, adorable sunken dimple and all. His hair is messy and he’s breathing heavy. He’s holding a brown paper bag and a two liter bottle of ginger ale.

  “Hi,” I stammer.

  “Hey. How are you feeling?” he asks breathlessly.

  “A little better, thanks. Did you run a marathon to get here? You look exhausted.”

  He bends over and places his hands on his knees to try and catch his breath. “I was just concerned about you. You sounded pretty awful on the phone.” He sets the bag and ginger ale down on the kitchen counter.

  “Thanks. I really appreciate it. I’d ask you to stay, but I don’t want to infect you.” Oh no. My stomach starts rolling and I hear the toilet calling me like a scrubbing bubbles commercial.

  “Gabby, you’re pale. Are you okay?” His eyes are full of worry.

  “I…feel…” I make it to the bathroom just in time. Brad follows after me and the next thing I know, he’s holding my hair back as the remainder of my stomach ends up in the toilet. So much for brushing my teeth. Now I’ve thrown up in front of him. Way to go, Gabby. I cover my mouth so I don’t offend him even more. “This could top the Tom Cruise incident. I’m really sorry, Brad.”

  He laughs and tucks my hair behind my ear, rubbing small, calming circles around my back. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. It’s all part of the job description, Lois.”

  “You know Brad, you’ve got a serious superhero obsession. Have you thought about getting help for that?”

  He smirks. “Tread lightly, Gabby. Remember who’s holding your hair back.”

  When I open my mouth to laugh, the smell is offensive and I close it quickly.

  Brad helps me up and over to the sofa, then wraps me in a blanket. Running back to the bathroom, followed by the kitchen, he gets me a cold washcloth for my head and some ginger ale. He sits by my side and presses th
e cool washcloth to my head. It feels good.

  With heavy eyelids, I begin to drift. The last thing I think I remember is a warm kiss being pressed to my forehead.

  ***

  It’s a beautiful morning in New York City and I’m not nauseous. What a difference a day makes. I forgot to close the curtains last night, and the sun is filtering through them. Wait a minute. How did I get to my bed? The last thing I remember is being on the sofa. Brad must have carried me in here. Oh my God, he’s been in my bedroom! I look around, suddenly thankful that I didn’t leave any bras on the floor. As I hop out of bed, I’m also extremely grateful for a settled stomach and feeling like myself again. All is right with the world. Fran left a note to meet her at the coffee shop, so I hit the shower. I try to get the image of Brad in my messy bedroom out of my mind, letting my thoughts drift to Dane and those eyes. I can’t wait to screw…I mean see him again tonight. Well, if nothing else I’ll be able to add him to my list. Wow, that sounds bad. Crazy, mind-blowing, no strings sex with a hot guy. Okay, maybe not that bad.

  On the way to the shop I pass by a couple of corner markets with flowers outside. One in particular catches my eye. They have pink lilies. I pick up a bouquet for Fran and run inside to pay for them. I notice small packages of Swedish Fish at the register, so I get a couple of those, too. For me.

  Fran beats me to The Brew House by a few minutes, and when I get there she is chatting up Brad behind the counter. No surprise there. He’s cute and she’s like a moth to a flame. For some reason the idea of Fran and Brad doesn’t sit well with me, regardless of her relationship with Kyle. Brad’s eyes meet mine and he flashes those pearly whites. Shake it off, Gabby. There are more important things to think about, like green eyes and a giant…

  I hand Fran the flowers and her mouth drops open in surprise.

  “What’s the occasion?”