by A. Valentine
“I couldn’t agree more.” Michael extended his hand again and Erin shook it, holding on a little longer than the first time. “Welcome home.”
“Thanks.” Erin watched him walk over to the register to pay for their meals. He glanced her way again and waved just before he left the restaurant. Looking out the window, she saw him cross the street and jog up the sidewalk toward the zoo’s entrance. She sighed and smiled.
Her phone went off at that moment, the ring tone one she had assigned to her mother. Erin fished the device out of her hoodie’s pocket and swiped her thumb across the screen. “Good morning, Mom.”
“Hello, honey. I thought I’d give you a call and see if your flight arrived on time.”
“Yeah, I got in around five o’clock. I stopped for breakfast before heading up to the house.” Erin swirled a finger through some powdered sugar on the edge of her plate. “I figured you’d probably be at the hospital before I got there.”
“Yes, I’m already here. Listen, Erin – I know you’re probably looking forward to catching up with some of your old friends in the area, but I was hoping you would hold off until tomorrow. I’ve made reservations for dinner tonight at Boka on Halstead. I have a little bit of a surprise and I’ve been holding off on telling you until you came home.”
“Okay,” Erin said, wary. Experience taught her that her mother’s idea of a surprise usually meant something bad. Like the time she had surprised Erin when she had made the announcement at the annual family Christmas get-together that she had filed for divorce from Erin’s father, thus explaining why Dad had chosen not to attend the party. Erin had been fourteen at the time and while she had been aware of trouble brewing in the marriage, it had come as a shock. Two years later, her mother had hit her with another of her “surprises” after they had gone to dinner and a play, and on the way home broke the news of her grandmother being diagnosed with cancer. “Just tell me right now if anyone is dead or dying. I don’t want to wait to find out.”
Her mother responded with one of her light, dry chuckles. “Oh, Erin. I can assure you, it’s nothing like that. This is good news.” Erin could hear voices in the background, the sounds of the hospital that she had come to associate with most of her mother’s calls. “The reservation is for seven. I’ll be heading to the restaurant straight from work so we’ll have to meet there.”
“No problem, Mom.” Erin sucked the sugar off her finger. Throughout her high school years, any time spent with her mother had to be a series of coordinated scheduling, meeting up instead of just going together from home. Or spending time together at home. Being the youngest of three children – unplanned, as her mother had once admitted – and the only girl, Erin had learned to be independent early on with her two older siblings caught up in their own lives, their father traveling abroad with his architect firm, and their mother spending more time teaching than raising a family. “I’ll go home, grab a nap, and then I’ll see you tonight at dinner.”
“Good.” At that moment, an urgent beeping sound came over the line.
“Sounds like a code blue,” Erin said. She had heard it enough either during phone calls or in her mother’s presence to recognize it.
“That it is,” Mom said, her tone going grim. “All right, I’ve got to go, honey. See you tonight.”
With that, she hung up. Erin no longer took offense at the abrupt endings to their conversations. When your mother is a doctor in a busy teaching hospital, it came with the territory. She finished her coffee and pulled on her hoodie. Outside, she could see traffic had picked up considerably. Chicago had awakened. Making her way to the curb with her two bags, Erin managed to hail a cab in a matter of moments. “Evanston,” she said, and gave the house address. As the taxi drifted past the gates of Lincoln Park Zoo, she thought about Michael again and smiled. Even if he was married, there had been no denying the instant click between them. If nothing else, she could have found a new friend – and if things worked out in her favor and Michael had been serious about putting in a good word for her, she might even have a new job.
Chapter Three
The white stucco exterior of the Craftsman/Renaissance Revival house gleamed in the mid-morning sunlight, while the glass on the three sets of French doors leading out onto the front veranda reflected the cloudless blue sky. Erin stood at the edge of the brick path that wound its way through manicured box hedges and took in the sight before her. This had been her home since birth, a five-bedroom manor set in the rich, predominantly Caucasian region known as Evanston’s Lakeshore neighborhood. Most of the people who lived around here either worked at Northwestern University just up the road; professors, politicians, or doctors like her mother who came from old money. After her older brothers Peter and Brandon had moved out, and Dad had left, it had just been Mom and Erin rattling around inside the sprawling, two-story house. Erin had often asked why they didn’t just sell it and get something smaller, but Mom in her infinite stubbornness would just say she refused to give up her home. Funny, considering how she’s hardly ever here to enjoy it, Erin thought with a smirk.
She let herself in with her key, not surprised that it still worked. Mom never changed the locks, not even after Dad moved out – in fact, he still had a key, and had an open invitation to drop by whenever he found himself back in Chicago. He often did come to visit, which Erin had always considered to be a bit awkward. It’s weird seeing your divorced parents being friends, she thought. Especially that time when Dad brought along his girlfriend…
Erin closed the door behind her and looked around. Just like the outside, the inside of the house had the same color scheme for every common room: eggshell white walls with a slight ivory tint to the white paint used on the trim, and white curtains. That had been Dad’s doing, as he would say from an architect’s standpoint that it utilized the natural light coming in through all the large windows and cut back on the need for artificial illumination. Training three kids not to leave dirty handprints all over the walls had been a challenge. At least the hardwood floors gave the place some warmth, honey brown and gleaming. In the front sitting room across from the veranda doors, a large green and gold Oriental rug took up most of the area in front of the large, white marble fireplace. Overstuffed club chairs with matching hassocks faced each other over a low wood table.
Making her way deeper into the house, Erin took her time to familiarize herself with her surroundings. Not much had changed in her four years away in California. She glanced in at the room that served as Mom’s office, just to the right of the closed door leading to the master bedroom suite. Turning left, she wandered by the main floor bathroom and the bedroom that had been hers as a child but had been converted to a guest room where her father had been known to sleep whenever he dropped by.
The hall ended at the large kitchen. While the rest of the house reflected the Craftsman style, this room had undergone a major upgrade. All blond oak cupboards with brushed silver pulls on doors and drawers, stainless steel appliances, and a massive six-burner stove, Erin often imagined it would make Gordon Ramsay wet himself with joy. Again, the chef’s kitchen had been Dad’s idea, as he had come from a large Italian family and loved to cook whenever he could. As for Mom? She could burn water. Erin headed straight to the refrigerator and opened the door, half expecting to find only designer bottled water and yogurt. To her surprise, the shelves had been stocked with all kinds of foods – from fresh produce to meats wrapped in butcher paper. “What the…?” she breathed, staring at the contents. Had Mom ordered some deliveries in anticipation for her return home, remembering how Erin preferred to make her own home-cooked meals and nutritional breakfast smoothies?
Snagging a bottle of water, Erin closed the fridge and continued on her way toward the stairs leading to the second floor. Peter and Brandon each had a room joined by a shared bath. Erin had just started high school when they had taken off to college, and the temptation of having an entire floor to herself had been too great to pass up. She took the center bedroom, whic
h had been Peter’s, and Dad had come back to help her to paint and redecorate it and the bath over Easter break. Directly across the hall from her bedroom stood what had been the attic space, but Dad had finished it and turned it into a recreation room for the boys, where they would study or sit for hours playing video games on the big screen television set in the built-in entertainment center. Erin had claimed that room, as well. She removed all the framed posters of basketball players, sports cars, and swimsuit models, replacing them with art prints of tranquil beaches and ocean life. Removing the smell of gym shoes had been a little more daunting, but eventually and with a new carpet and a lot of air freshener, she had succeeded.
Erin pushed open the door to her bedroom and stepped inside. It did not surprise her that she found no dust anywhere. “Let’s hear it for Molly Maids,” she said, smiling. Being a doctor, Mom had always insisted on keeping her home tidy, almost to the point of OCD. She didn’t have time for housework, though, so she hired people to come in and do it for her. Erin had always insisted on keeping her own area clean. She had always felt uncomfortable about strangers – even bonded ones – coming into her personal space. She didn’t mind them doing it while she had been away at college. Now that I’m back, this room is off limits again.
And it would only be temporary, anyway, she thought, as she dropped her bags on the floor, kicked off her sneakers, and flung herself onto her old twin-sized bed. She sank down into the thick duvet with a sigh and closed her eyes. As soon as she got a job, she would be able to get her own place. If she had to, she knew she could call on some old high school friends she had kept touch with during her time at Stanford, who would be more than happy to take her in as a roommate until she found a nice condo somewhere.
She expected some argument from Mom about that. In addition to being a workaholic and a perfectionist, she could also be a little controlling. Either she would insist on Erin staying here, or she would try to give her money toward an apartment. Erin did not want that. Her brothers had never asked for financial help, and now they both had jobs and homes of their own: Brandon, a physical therapist, lived in Boston with his wife and a second baby on the way, while Peter worked as a civil defense attorney and lived in Miami with his boyfriend. Erin wanted to prove she could be just as independent.
Lack of sleep, jet lag, and the time zone change began to take its toll. Erin found her phone and set the alarm to wake her in three hours. That would give her enough time for a nap before she had to get up and get ready for this dinner date with her mom. Grabbing her pillow, she snuggled in and soon drifted away into sleep.
Chapter Four
When her alarm went off, Erin dragged herself out of bed and into the adjoining bathroom. She made a passing note of the fresh towels artfully draped over the bar next to the tub. Everything had been prepared for her arrival home, just like a hotel. She even found new, unopened bottles of her favorite body wash, shampoo and conditioner. While she waited for the water to get warm, she stripped off her jeans, t-shirt, bra and panties, dumping everything into the hamper. She took a moment to look at her reflection in the mirror over the sink.
A petite young woman of twenty-two, she had taken after Dad’s Irish side of the family with her fair skin and elfin appearance. Dad’s nickname for her had been “Pixie Stick,” and not just because that had been her favorite candy as a kid. Her copper-red hair had once been long and hung to her waist; she had grown tired of the upkeep and had it all hacked off when she got to California, donating the braid to Locks of Love. Short hair suited her, she thought, both for her chosen career – less hair to fuss with and get in the way – and never failed to earn her compliments from both men and women. Erin still remembered the first time a girl had hit on her, one evening while studying at the campus library. She had found it flattering but had been polite in her rejection.
Zach used to tell her she had a great body. Erin kept herself in shape, toned but not muscular in any way. She still wished her breasts could be a little smaller. She ran her hands over them thoughtfully, taking in her pink nipples sitting high atop milk-white rounds of flesh with visible blue veins running just under the surface of the skin. Her fingers trailed down over the soft curve of her stomach. She had her mother’s body shape, which included child-bearing hips, a nice round butt, and very little thigh gap. The neatly trimmed triangle of russet curls at the apex of her legs pointed to her dainty feet. Zach had always encouraged her to sculpt her bush, claiming that the hair tickled his nose whenever he would go down on her, and for the longest time Erin would indulge him by going with something simple like a little strip just above the vulva. Once they broke up, she had let it grow back in to a more natural look.
She turned away from the mirror and flipped the switch to activate the shower. Stepping inside, she slid the glass door shut before immersing herself beneath the hot spray. She took her time, just enjoying the feel of the water rolling down over her shoulders. Eventually, she lathered up. She found herself thinking about the guy from the Pancake House again. She couldn’t help it that she found him attractive. She loved that hint of an Irish accent. She liked those broad shoulders, long torso, and narrow hips. She had always been a sucker for blue eyes, especially heavy-lidded ones. What she found even more appealing had been the scruffy face, that “I didn’t bother to shave this morning, so what?” look, and she imagined what it would feel like brushing up against her inner thighs…
Grabbing the detachable shower head, Erin flipped the setting over to a strong pulse. She placed one foot up on the side of the tub and, holding onto the top of the door track, she aimed the water’s powerful jets at her labia. She closed her eyes and moaned as the spray pounded at her clit in a heavy, rapid rhythm. To her, it felt like a warm, wet tongue flicking at her, driving up her arousal to greater heights. It had been so long since the last time she had sex. Zach had been pretty good, very enthusiastic. I wonder what Michael would be like, she thought. He’s older…probably really experienced…bet he’d know just what to do to get me off, make me scream. She imagined him spreading her open, grinning at her with that shark smile before burying his face between her legs. Her fingers tightened on the shower door. She thought about the bristle of his beard like sandpaper as his tongue beat at her clitoris. She gasped, heart racing, and moved the shower head in circular motions. Oh, yes. She could see him looking up at her, just those piercing, ice blue eyes visible above her mons, contrasting with the coppery fuzz of her bush.
She shuddered and let out a long, groaning curse as she climaxed. Panting, Erin leaned her forehead against the wet tile as the waves of pleasure faded. She fumbled to return the shower head to its cradle and turned the dial back to a normal spray. With another quick dowse, she turned off the water.
Orgasm had left her feeling loose and relaxed, which she liked. She finished her hygienic routine, shaving and plucking and primping while the hair on top of her head dried naturally. Wrapped in a towel, she went back into her room and opened the closet. She had left some clothes here when she went off to school. Among them she found every woman’s standard Little Black Dress, a simple number with capped sleeves and a boat neck collar. She pulled it on, not surprised it still fit as her weight had not fluctuated much over the years. She found a pair of modest black heels and some plain silver dangle earrings from the jewelry box on her dresser. Her girlfriends had always been jealous of the fact that she never really needed makeup other than a little color over the eyes. With a bit of lip gloss to make her pouty pink lips shine, she decided she looked good enough for the upscale likes of Boka.
She tucked her California driver’s license into a small black clutch with a shoulder strap, making a mental note to go to the DMV first thing Monday morning to get an updated version of her old Illinois card. Making her way downstairs, Erin snagged a spare set of keys off the hook near the back door and followed the path through the back garden to the detached two-car garage. Mom had encouraged her to leave her Nissan Versa in Chicago when she went out west
to college, and sometimes drove it herself to keep it in good working order so Erin would always have her own transportation whenever she came back for a visit. Erin smiled when she saw the silver car. She had driven it down to New Orleans and back last year during Spring Break, taking her high school friend Corrine along as they used that trip to celebrate her twenty-first birthday. I really need to give Corrine a call, let her know I’m back. Mom had asked her to hold off until tomorrow; Erin made a mental note to pay her old partner-in-crime a visit.
She found it odd that Mom’s Mercedes now sat in its spot next to the Nissan. Usually, that half of the garage stood vacant more than not whenever Mom went to work for the day. Wonder if there’s something wrong with it? Of course, Mom would have had it towed to the shop immediately if there had been some problem. She never liked to let anything sit unattended, she always had to have someone right on it, taking care of matters for her. Just like the maid service. She wanted a clean house but she had to be at the hospital, so she hired someone else to do the work. Erin’s brothers used to joke that if Mom ever found a way to clone herself, she wouldn’t need anyone else – she would even go so far as to replace the hospital staff. But she would still be up there, working with them. Erin had often wondered if Mom had a fold-out bed in her office. Yeah, right – she probably doesn’t even sleep.
Putting aside the question of how Mom got to work today, Erin pulled out of the garage and started the drive toward downtown to Boka. She had been to the restaurant several times before as it had become one of Mom’s favorite spots. Erin had always found the décor of weird paintings of animals dressed in period clothing to be a little strange, and the menu to border on the pretentious. She let the valet park her car and went inside. “Hello,” she said to the maître d. “I’m meeting my mother here, Dr. Marianne Dempsey, at seven.”
