Leaning in closer again, his warm breath caressed my neck. “I’m extremely jealous of that cheesecake right now.”
I gulped, swallowing the bit I’d choked on. “You are?”
“You have no idea.”
All I could focus on was the scent of coconut on his skin, and at first, I thought it was a little feminine … until his aftershave and a slight hint of beer hit me as well. Holy delicious smell, where am I?
I was lost in the whiff that was Brad, his aroma so unique. Unique and delicious.
“You smell like a coconut Tim Tam dipped in beer,” I whispered, barely able to talk for fear of actually licking him.
Brad pressed the rim of his beer bottle to his mouth, and before taking a swig, stared at my lips. “Is that a good combo?”
I licked them for him slowly, then I moved so close to his ear they almost touched it. “The very best.”
I woke up the next morning with a vagina buzz—tingles, humming … a pelvic-floor disco. The party in my panties was a fitting tribute to the dream I’d just experienced, together with the memory of Brad’s searing eyes on my body the night before. When Cori had mentioned Brad having been buried headfirst in her pie not too long ago, I’d been momentarily put off any further flirtatious fun with him. I mean she was my best friend after all, and I didn’t want her pie tainting my own. Nor did I want to be his consolation prize. Fair call, right?
Brad hadn’t allowed my subtle attempts at retraction though, because every time I’d stepped back, he’d step forward. Every time I’d put up a reflective screen, he’d knocked it down with his sexy but cheeky charm. And when I’d come right out and said “Are you in love with my best friend?” he’d practically spat his beer and said “no.”
I believed him, and I was pretty good lie detector—liars always were.
“Wow!” I sighed, my face drenched with a satisfied smile.
Cori groaned from the bed beside me. Actually, what emanated from her throat sounded more like a donkey being fucked up the arse. What? Why do you think they’re called an ass?
“Great night. Great dream. Great dreamgasm.”
“Shut up and go back to sleep,” she grumbled.
I kicked off my blankets. “Can’t. Too wired. And anyway, it’s just gone seven a.m. The sun is up and so should we be. The beach awaits us. Come on, let’s go for a run.”
“I’m allergic.”
“To what?”
“Running or you. Come to think of it, both.”
My arms reached toward the ceiling, stretching my entire body and waking it up. “I’m allergic to your bullshit.”
“Good. Shoo. Quick, before you get sick,” she continued, her eyes still closed. Little smartarse.
Performing a quick touch of the toes to complete my stretch, I leapt onto her bed and began bouncing, elevating her body from the mattress with each jump. “Up, up, up we go.”
She squealed. “Em, stop it!”
I bounced some more.
So did she.
“St … op. I m … ean it!” Cori started laughing uncontrollably, until she bounced right off the bed. Oops.
I quickly kicked my feet out from underneath me, landing on my bum on the mattress, and peeked over the edge, spying her body lying flat on the ground. “Are you dead?” I whispered.
“Yes.”
“That’s not an excuse. Get up.”
“You’re so mean,” she grouched.
“Fair enough, but that will change after I’ve made you breakfast.”
Cori lifted her head from her arms and squinted at me. “Make me breakfast? With what? There’s no kitchen in this room.”
“Right you are, but fear not, Miss Grouch of Mornings, for we have this!” I sprung up from the bed and headed toward the mini bar, my fingers finding a packet of Nobby’s Nuts and frisbeeing them at her. “That covers the second tier on the nutritional food pyramid. Now … what else do we have?” I continued to search for food, opening the bar fridge and taking out a small bottle of apple juice. “Ahh … this covers another tier. Breakfast is served.”
She screwed up her nose and threw the packet of nuts back at me. “You suck. Remind me why I invited you here again?”
“Because Brad ate your pie,” I answered, my tone of voice stern. I opened the bottle of juice and took a sip. “And because Josh broke your heart.”
She sighed. “Right.”
“And because you missed me.”
Cori elevated to her knees and pulled herself up onto the bed. “Maybe.”
“Pfft … maybe. You missed me and you know it.”
She flipped me the bird.
I kissed my fingers and slapped my arse in response. “Soooo, are you actually going to tell me how the Brad, Josh and Cori fuck-fiasco started, or are we going for a run?”
Cori dropped her head to her hands. “Fine. We’re going for a run.”
Excellent! Little did she know, we would be doing both.
***
Forty-five minutes later, we were back in our room, refreshed but slightly exhausted from our beach run. As the waves had crashed into the shore and the sand sunk underneath our footsteps, Cori had filled me in on all the details of her time spent on tour with the revue.
Two words … holy shit!
Talk about throwing two stubborn, headstrong, stupid people into a blender and pressing start, because what had materialised from that concoction was glass of head-fuck—a bitter, stubborn, stupid, hurtful mixture of miscommunication. Yeah, both of them had royally fucked things up, and I mean royally. Apparently they’d started off as enemies after Josh threw Cori’s camera in the rubbish due to mistaking her for paparazzi at one of the revue shows. She’d then married her foot to his balls as payback, and honestly, I couldn’t have been prouder. Cori was feisty at the best of times, but never that feisty. And from what she’d had told me while we jogged up and down the beach, avoiding the water as it washed against the shore, Josh had been a mega arsehole in the beginning of their relationship, therefore the foot-and-testicle marriage was more than deserved.
I seconded the notion.
What had then transpired was the two of them being thrust together on tour, and according to Cori, Josh had refused to leave her alone. She’d tried to convince me that his advances hadn’t been wanted nor appreciated, but I could tell otherwise. I could tell by the way she’d blushed from head to toe, and by the way she’d avoided eye contact when mentioning things he’d said or done, like the applelingus incident.
Note to self: offer Josh an apple at some stage.
Anyway, she’d been a marshmallow and had succumbed to Josh’s lure, jumping into bed with him only for Josh to then screw some other girl because of one measly little argument with Cori. Typical.
Normally, that would’ve been the icing on the cake for my best friend. The Cori of old would’ve decorated said cake herself with giant piped letters spelling FUCK YOU and then eaten it in front of the bastard. But she hadn’t. Instead, she’d done quite the opposite, and that was what had surprised me the most. She’d retaliated, giving him a taste of his own betrayal by revenge-fucking Brad, all the while knowing that Josh was sorry and wanted her back. She’d also been aware that Brad had a soft spot for her, yet she’d gone ahead and fucked him anyway. She’d admitted to using him to make her feel what Josh had felt, and to make Josh feel what she had felt when he’d screwed around on her. And that for once, just once, she hadn’t wanted to be the victim—instead, she’d wanted to be the villain.
Admittedly, I was little worried about her state of mind, but only because what she’d revealed was completely out of character. However, I was also impressed with her taking control of a situation for once and not conforming or running away.
I was intrigued by her newfound, unorthodox strength.
“I need proper healthy food. I’m not going shopping with you until I’ve had breakfast,” Cori whined as she towel-dried her hair.
We’d both showered after returning from our
run and were now getting ready to go out for the day.
“We’ll grab something at Pacific Fair, and then I need a new bikini.”
“Didn’t you buy one after Christmas, during the Boxing Day sales?” The corners of her eyes were pinched with confusion.
“Yes.”
“So why do you need a new one?”
I shook my head at her and all but said ‘duh’. Why do I need a new one? “Why is the sky blue?”
“Because when the sunlight hits the Earth’s atmosphere, it scatters—”
“Ugh! You’re supposed to say I don’t know, and then I’m supposed to say ‘exactly’.”
Her confused expression remained. “But I do know why the sky is blue.”
“Yeah, because you’re a geek.”
“Noooo, because I’m a photographer, and light dispersion is important.”
I threw my towel at her. “And because you’re a geek.”
“Whatever. I’m a geek,” she surrendered, picking it up and walking toward me. “And anyway, what were we talking about again?”
I smiled to myself—never you mind—and continued to redirect the conversation away from my need for more bikinis. “We were talking about you and Josh, and what happened when you both disappeared last night after dinner.”
Her cheeks grew a pinkish glow. “Huh?”
“Don’t play dumb with me. You were just about to explain why the sky is freakin’ blue. Clearly, you’re not dumb. So ’fess up … where’d you both go?”
Cori grabbed her Chucks and proceeded to put them on her feet. “Just to the beach to talk.”
“Aaaaaand?”
“And we talked.”
I rolled my eyes at her stubbornness and spoke in a sweetly sarcastic voice. “That’s nice, dear. And what did you talk about?”
She laughed. “Fine. We talked about the two of us, about putting everything we’d done up until that point behind us. We talked about moving forward.”
“And can you both do that?” I slipped my feet into my favourite pair of Ipanema flip-flops and grabbed my sunglasses, placing them on my head.
“What? Move forward?” She too grabbed her sunglasses, and we both headed for the door.
“Yeah, but more importantly, the putting of everything behind you. That’s a lot of stuff to turn your back on.”
Cori stopped in the doorway of our room, and looking down, she sighed, “I know.” Her eyes met mine again, and the uncertainty in her stare was near palpable. “But what choice do we have?”
Sadly, she was right. To move forward, you couldn’t keep looking back.
Something I knew all too well.
***
“What about this one?” Cori asked, shoving a bathing suit between the curtains of my change-room cubicle.
I took it from her hands and held it at arm’s length. “Meh.”
“Just try it on. It’s hot.”
“But I like bikinis.”
“Stop whining and humour me. Put it on.”
The black mesh one-piece with geometric shapes of material that I held up and screwing my face at would barely cover my breasts and lady pie. “Okay, okay, but I’m going to look like Lady Gaga meets The Little Mermaid. You do realise this, right?”
“I can’t hear you,” she called out, her voice sounding much farther away than what it had been only seconds ago. “I’m just gonna wait out in the shop. Call me when it’s on. I want to see what it looks like.”
Of course she does.
Huffing, I hung the one-piece on the hook and turned to face the mirror before peeling off the funky, bright green bikini I was currently trying on. I liked green, especially this shade of green. It worked to bring out the mild emerald in my eyes.
Swapping the swimsuits around, I removed the one-piece from its hanger and prepared for the world’s best one-legged balance act, meticulous yet far from graceful while threading my legs through the holes. My body shimmied the suit into position, my reflection in the mirror resembling a decent “Time Warp” audition number. Thoughts of jumping to the left and then stepping to the right played in my head, and I smiled. The bathing suit was getting more interesting by the second.
Now humming the tune of The Rocky Horror Picture Show song, I adjusted my shoulder straps and turned, doing what all women do when first trying on clothing … we checked out our arses. Looking good!
I liked my arse. It was a good arse. And so it should be—one hundred squats a day needed to count for something.
“Okay. It’s on. Come and have a look,” I called out, continuing to assess my rear end.
She didn’t answer, so I poked my head through the curtains then stepped out of the cubicle completely, spotting my reflection on the extra-large change-room wall mirror. Hmm … not bad! Surprisingly, the bathing suit actually looked hot. In fact, it reminded me of one of the costumes I wore in my current production, Chicago. I played the role of Liz, one of the six married murderesses in the Cook County Jail. She was the first woman in the “Cell Block Tango” scene that killed her husband because he made a popping sound with his gum.
I smiled and began humming the song. “Cor?”
“Yeah? Hang on, I’ll be there in a minute,” she called from just outside the change-room entry.
Swaying my hips, I danced toward the door, singing the introductory words of the “Cell Block Tango”. Pop. Six. Squish. Uh uh. Cicero. Lipshitz. When I reached the door, I thought I would treat my gorgeous friend to a preview of my show performance by spinning into the shop and slamming my back against the doorframe, hand on my hip, my leg pointed to the side. Cori normally loved my impromptu performances, but maybe not so much in public. Regardless, she loved them.
Dramatically stepping my foot to the beat in my head while singing about the death of my character’s husband and how he only had himself to blame, I looked up, and that was when I noticed Cori wasn’t alone. Nope. With her were Josh, Brad, Noah and Dimps, all of them wearing surprise in the form of wide eyes—really fucking wide eyes. Shit-fuck!
I froze and my jaw dropped, but I only had a split second to make one of two choices. One: slowly back myself into the change room and never come out. Or two: continue my sexy tango and perform the shit out of it.
I chose the latter.
Relaxing my deer-in-headlights expression, I fell into character, focussing my stare on Brad while lifting the corner of my mouth seductively. I step-dragged toward him slowly, continuing to sing that if he’d been there and seen what my character’s husband had put her through, he would’ve killed the bastard, too.
He swallowed.
I winked.
Continuing my act, I step-dragged Brad in a circular motion, trailing the tip of my finger across his chest, shoulders and back, his deep inhale not going unnoticed. If anything, his intake of breath drew my attention to his mouth for a split second before I spun, stopped abruptly, and pressed my back against his front.
Brad’s heartbeat tapped a rhythm on my shoulder, and warmth filtered from his body into my own. It felt good, exciting—my knees near buckling—so I slid down his chest and abdomen, bent forward, pushed my arse into his groin, and slid back up again.
He hardened instantly.
Oh. My. Vagina!
Considering we were in a swimsuit shop with Cori, Josh, Noah, Dimps and other random people watching with amused and intrigued expressions, I had to step away. I didn’t want to, though. In fact, I would’ve been more than happy to continue arousing his trouser snake with my swaying arse until it rose from within his pants like a fucking cobra and hissed at me.
Ssssss … I liked trouser snakes, especially the feisty ones.
Creating some much-needed distance from Brad, I moved toward Cori and Josh and performed a tilt, kicking my leg up vertically to brush my ear while delivering the recitative speech section of the song.
Cori giggled and clapped, encouraging me as I confessed my character’s crime, explaining that her husband had been popping his gum while I con
tinued to move through first, second, third, fourth and fifth positions of ballet. I turned, tilted, held leg raises, and explained that the popping was driving my character so mad that she threatened him if he were to do it again.
Funnily enough, not one person interrupted my performance or made a joke. They just watched quietly—bar Cori—as I moved from one position to the other while narrating my character’s sequence of events. It was excellent—embarrassment over my initial charade was non-existent.
Zeroing in on Dimps, I stepped up to his side and leaned against him, sliding down his leg and practically using it as if I were a pole dancer. He didn’t seem to mind and even offered his hand for extra support as I grinded against him. That was when I broke character for a split second, laughed, and thanked him for his assistance. I then placed a quick kiss on his cheek and moved on to Noah.
One word …
Incineration.
Noah’s eyes seared my skin and raised my body temperature, and that was just with his stare. It was unwavering, purposeful … intense. It was fucking dangerous.
Knowing I should skip him and return to Brad, I decided instead to play his sexy heated-stare game, piercing him with a scorching look of my own while performing a deliberately slow fan-kick so that he could glimpse my swimsuit-covered pussy. His stare on my face wavered and he grinned, so I celebrated internally and continued to narrate that my character pulled out her gun and shot her husband in the head when he continued to pop his gum after being warned no to do so. It was also the point where I pretended to fire two bullets at Noah, and blew the imaginary gun smoke from my pistol-hand.
He pouted. Adorable.
Before I could turn around and finish my spectacle with one final display for Brad, his hard body pressed against my back and warm breath caress my ear. Brad’s hand quickly found mine and spun me away from him before abruptly reeling me in, my chest flush with his. The move caught me by surprise, and I lost my bearings, all of a sudden adrift within the sound of my beating heart and enchanted by the lust blaring from his eyes.
Brad’s frame was poised. Dominant. Perfect. He was in control of the moment and me, and it was beyond hot. I wanted to kiss him, to press my aching lips against his and feel his tongue slide against mine. I wanted to taste him, drink him in, and be privy to his body’s capabilities. I wanted everyone to fuck off so that I could experience all of those things.
Reveal (A Wild Nights Novel) Page 5
