Last Call

by Michele G Miller

  Friday - May 10, 2013

  Long conversations and other things

  One chicken salad, a long bath, and a glass of white wine later, and I was snuggled in my bed patiently waiting for Gage to call. I knew he’d told me not to wait up, but there was no way I was going to skip talking to him again.

  Candace poked her head in on her way out for the night. "You sure you're okay? You're not sick or anything, are you?"

  Sitting propped against my headboard with a sketch pad in my hands, I assured her I was fine.

  "I'll see you tomorrow night then. Love ya babe."

  "You too," I called after her. "Tell Tony I said hi."

  I settled in after she left and started sketching pictures of Gage and other random things that came to my mind. Exhaustion hit me like a freight train and I closed my eyes for a brief moment; setting the pad to the side.

  The vibrations from my phone jolted me awake. I searched for it among my tangled blankets and managed a slightly distracted, albeit somewhat sleepy, "Yeah?"

  "Hi. Did I wake you?" It was Gage’s low, sexy voice talking.

  "Mmmm, I was napping a little. I'm awake now."

  "Damn girl, you sound sexy," he moaned, and I giggled. "Seriously, I’ll let you go back to sleep."

  "No!" I shouted into the phone, and then sighed at my over eagerness. "I mean, I want to talk to you. Really."

  "So you're in bed, huh?" he drawled. His smooth voice reeked of sexy.

  "Mmmmhmmm," I moaned purposefully to tease him. "I'm all alone at home in my big, soft bed."

  He half-laughed deeply. "Is that an invite, gorgeous?"

  Oh HELL yes it is! my head screamed. Or maybe it wasn't my head talking. Instead of following my libido, I laughed and decided to purposefully ignore his comment. "So how was your night?"

  "Longer than I thought it would be. I'm sorry it's so late."

  "Gage, it's only nine forty-five." I almost snorted when I looked at the clock on my bedside table. "Dang, I'm getting old if I'm already asleep at nine forty-five on a Friday night."

  He chuckled. "You've been working hard. You're tired. Besides, I'm in bed too."

  BAM. Now that was a thought worth perking up for. "You are, are you?"

  "Yep. I figured if my girl was retiring early, I would too."

  "Awwww," I purred, my heart doing flips.

  Smiling to myself, I giggled as I asked, "So what are you wearing, Mr. Bartender?"

  "Wow, so forward on our first phone date, aren't you? I'm wearing boxer briefs right now."

  "Right now? What does that mean?"

  "Use your imagination," he whispered seductively.

  I sank deeper into my covers as my body started to do some serious waking up.

  "My turn - what are you wearing?"

  I looked at my comfy PJs and debated on lying for the sex appeal. "I've got on a white tank top and boxer short-type bottoms," I admitted.

  A moan escaped Gage and I smiled to myself. This play-by-play was sexy as hell, and I waited impatiently for the next question.

  "Is there anyone else in the picture, Savannah?"

  What the hell? Talk about putting on the brakes. Where did that come from?

  "Hello?"

  "I'm here," I answered. "No, there's no one else. I don't have any more dates, and I even informed one suitor that I wasn't interested."

  "You're sure?"

  "Yes I'm sure," I replied, a little irritated. "What about you, Gage? How’s your picture looking?"

  "My picture has been focused on you for weeks, baby. I told you that Sunday night."

  "And you're sure?"

  "I'm damn sure. Why would you feel the need to ask? I haven't dated anyone since I came to Nashville."

  "What about your fan club at the bar?"

  He sighed loudly. "Savannah, I told you that’s all for work. I haven't touched a single one of those women. If it bothers you that much I can pull back and not be so friendly to them, but I promise you there isn’t another woman that has walked into that bar who’s caught my attention the way you have."

  I was breathless at his words so I spoke a simple "Okay" to let him know I understood.

  "Okay. Now - describe your room to me. What do you see when you’re lying in your bed?"

  Lying on my back, I described my surroundings for him. The large dresser at the foot of my bed with the antique mirror hanging over it. The window to my left covered in a burlap curtain that I stamped with aqua paint myself. I told him about my fluffy white comforter and my affinity for pillows.

  "The walls are a light grey, and my closet and bathroom are on the right. Oh, and I have this huge bouquet of wildflowers that someone sent me today sitting on my dresser right now," I added; remembering that I still didn't know where they’d come from.

  "Someone sent you flowers?" he asked, and I could practically hear his blood pressure spike.

  Honestly confused, I asked him right out, "You mean you didn't send them?"

  "I hate to tell you that I didn't. You don't know where they came from?"

  "No,” I assured him, sitting up and looking at them from across the room. "They were on our doorstep this morning. There wasn't a note - just my name."

  "Is that a common occurrence for you? Receiving flowers from mysterious people?"

  "No Gage, it's not a common occurrence," I bit out, perhaps a bit too snarkily. "I swear I thought they were from you. I can't imagine who else would give them to me."

  "Well damn, somebody sure beat me to the punch, huh? Glad I called dibs when I did," he teased and apologized.

  He changed the subject right back to my room. "So your room sounds very relaxing. I can picture it in my head from your details. I can just envision you laying there snuggled up under that fluffy blanket of yours with a pillow over your head."

  "I actually pull a pillow over my head a lot when I sleep," I laughed, amazed at his perception. "Tell me about your day. Did things work out?"

  "Yeah, things are good. The new manager here is efficient and the place is packed. It's a pretty cool club."

  "Is it like The Garage, or is it more of a Vegas club? Where is it?"

  "It's on the strip." He was silent for a moment and then continued, "You know what? I don't want to talk about my work stuff or yours either, for that matter. Let's talk about you."

  Nervous laughter bubbled up. "Okay…what do you want to know?"

  "Tell me your favorite childhood memory."

  And so our conversation went; each of us taking turns asking the other questions about random things; childhood likes and dislikes, movies, our family. I told him about being an only child and how exacting and critical my mother was. I left out details about my past and the upcoming wedding for now, but I did try to give him a realistic picture of my parents.

  If I was going to date this man, I wanted him to know what he was up against when it came to the Guthry family. He was rather vague about his family in Australia, but I did get him to admit he was an only child. His mother was a housewife and his father owned a few bars. He came to the U.S. about two years ago, spending a little over a year in Vegas before deciding to check out the music scene in Nashville. He’d been there about six months.

  Gathering information from what he’d told me previously and what little he was alluding to tonight, he seemed to help manage bars under transition. I sort of equated his position to that of a takeover team in the corporate world. He came in and interviewed the staff, decided who could stay and who could go, and hired qualified management.

  I decided not to push for more details right now. In truth, I was scared to death that he might not be staying. Scared that I’d finally found this amazing guy, and he was going to up and leave once the new owner of The Garage hired a permanent manager.

  "It's almost midnight," he sighed; his voice disappointed. "I should let you get some sleep."

  "Not yet," I whined, hating the thought of letting him go. I felt like a young girl again, spending hours on the phone wi
th my crush.

  "I don't want to go either, sweetheart, but you have to get up early."

  "I wish you were here…"

  He was silent. I heard his sharp intake of breath and then silence. Finally he whispered, "What would you do with me if I was there?" His thick accent cracked as he spoke.

  I covered my head and sunk into a cocoon of blankets, like hiding would magically make me bolder. "I would kiss every inch of your lips," I said; echoing what he’d said about wanting to kiss me some day.

  He prompted me to go on and my body heated as I recalled all of the dirty things we did in my dreams.

  "I want to feel your skin on mine, Gage. I want to feel your mouth cover mine. If you were here I would take full advantage of you."

  "You know what I want?"

  "Hmmm?" I asked, unable to use words as my body was slowly heating up.

  "I want to taste you. Every part of you. I want to run my mouth along the side of your neck, in the small of your back and up your soft inner thigh."

  I whimpered aloud at the visual picture he was creating. When I was still with Daniel he and I had a few sexual conversations over the phone, but this was so much more intense than that. Back then I didn't have a clue about my body yet or how to make it work. Tonight though, lying in the dark listening to Gage talk about all the ways he would make me feel the things I so desperately wanted to feel, I had no trouble keeping up with him.

  When he began to describe in exact detail how and where he would like to run his tongue on my body, I couldn't stop my hand from wandering over my breasts.

  He groaned softly when I told him how I would like to feel him pressed tightly against my hips. My hand skimmed the warmth between my legs and came away wet. I wanted fulfillment so badly I couldn't wait, so I slowly pushed one finger into my own body while rubbing another over the sensitive skin between my thighs; causing a low moan to escape my throat.

  Through the phone, Gage drew a heavy breath and murmured, "Are you touching yourself?"

  There was no shame when I answered him. "Mmmhmmmm, I can’t help myself." I gasped as a wave of new sensations tightened in my lower abdomen.

  "Damn, baby, I want to hear you…" he growled softly and then added, "I'll get off with you."

  That was all it took for me to lose all apprehension and pleasure myself with abandon.

  I sucked in my breath as rolling waves of desire began to build; continuing to rub the sensitive heat between my legs, all the while picturing Gage lying in his bed stroking himself. I placed the phone on speaker and set it next to my head so I could fully concentrate on what I was doing.

  While somewhat awkward, it was still sexy as hell and I knew I was about to have an epic orgasm. Gage muttered lusty encouragement to me as his breathing came in and out harder and faster, and I mumbled when I was about ready to burst.

  "Pretend you’re with me and inside of me. Pump your body inside of mine, Gage," I whispered and cried out, "Oh, it feels so good!"

  He groaned out my name, rasping, "I want you so badly."

  Then together, as if we were in the same room making love, the earth exploded and my body began to shake as waves of ecstasy shuddered through me. He grunted a satisfied "Yes."

  Then all went peacefully quiet as we both floated back to earth.

  When my brain could function again I mumbled, "Wow" and laughed despite myself.

  "You're laughing?" he asked; thick desire clinging to his voice.

  "Oh my word. Um, yeah," I sputtered, feeling at a loss for words.

  "Me too." I knew what he was saying by not saying anything.

  "That was unexpected and amazing," he admitted after another moment. "Hang on…I, um, need to clean myself up."

  A satisfied smirk crossed my face knowing that he’d truly reached his climax. It certainly wasn't the first time I'd taken matters into my own hands over the years, but I’d never had a shattering orgasm like that by myself.

  "I'm back. You okay?"

  "I'm good. I'm tired," I mumbled.

  "I'm going to let you get to sleep now, sweetheart."

  "M’kay." I yawned, suddenly feeling totally spent.

  "Hey Savannah - thank you." For a moment I thought he was thanking me for the phone sex, and I didn't know what to say. Was there etiquette for phone sex? But in typical Gage fashion, he read my mind. "Not for the…amazingly sexy foreplay, although I do thank you for that. But - for the conversation. For being you, and for letting me call dibs."

  "You are more than welcome Gage Taylor, Mr. Bartender, Sexy Aussie Superman," I teased almost incoherently as my eyes became heavier and heavier.

  "Sleep well."

  "Night." I barely had time to hit the End button on my phone before I was sound asleep and dreaming of more moments in bed with Gage. Except this time he was physically with me, and it was ten times better than tonight.

  Saturday - May 11, 2013

  Begging

  It was late when I decided to head to The Garage on Saturday night. Though we’d talked several times during the week, I hadn't seen Gage since our date Monday and I was suddenly having Aussie withdrawals. He called me around six to let me know he was getting a flight home a day early, and then left me a voicemail around ten-thirty while I was in the shower to let me know he was home and heading to The Garage to check on things. The temptation to see him was overwhelming, so there I was, walking into the bar unannounced.

  I made my way over to John, who was working behind the bar with one of the female bartenders I hadn’t met yet. It was busy, but not crazy. That was one of my favorite things about the place. Being located so close to campus, there was always a steady stream of students patronizing the place, but it was still far enough from the strip that it wasn’t crazy with tourists all the time. After making so many visits over the last few weeks, I was starting to feel comfortable here.

  The sounds of people laughing and talking over drinks, the clicking of glasses, the beat of the music. I felt at home now walking in and spotting other regulars. Regulars. The word reminded me of one of my first conversations with Gage, when he’d assumed I made a habit out of coming to the bar and going out with losers. It made me laugh now when I thought about how that "habit" had introduced me to him.

  "Hey Savannah," called John, looking up from the intense flirting he was doing with a couple of co-eds. "He's in the office. Go on back."

  I smiled in appreciation and found my way to the office. His back was to the door as he rifled through a file cabinet on the back wall, and as always, I couldn’t help but take in my fill of his beautiful body.

  For a moment I flashed back to our dirty phone call from the night before and was tempted to flee from the room. But then his words from this morning when he called and woke me up started playing in my head.

  "Good morning beautiful," he whispered, his voice husky with sleep. "I wanted so badly for you to feel like I was really there with you this morning."

  "Oh? Why is that?" I was well aware of the ridiculous smile that stretched across my face from the intense happiness I felt at hearing him.

  "I didn't want you to regret last night. I'm not the kind of guy who would walk out on you after sex."

  "Gage, sweetie," I reminded him playfully, "we didn't actually have sex, hun."

  He laughed. "We didn't?"

  "Um…nope."

  "Well it was pretty damn great what we did have. Your little whimpers and moans. Mmmmm."

  "Okay - stop before you get me all revved up again."

  "Could I do that?"

  "Your voice can do a lot of things. I told you it was magical."

  "You're magical." He complimented me in a way I'd never heard before. Maybe I was finally learning to believe the words he said. More likely though, it was the way he made me feel when he said those two words. It made me feel invincible.

  Now as I stood there and absorbed all that he was, I sighed. Tonight his usual black shirt was replaced by a crisp white one, and his dark hair was a stark con
trast to the light color. He was wearing his perfectly fitted jeans, and I couldn't help but stare at his tight backside when he bent down to open a lower drawer.

  "Do you mind if I keep you company for a while?" I hinted; leaning up against the door frame of the office.

  Startled, he whipped around with a huge smile on his face. "Hey beautiful." He smiled, quickly closing the drawer and coming around his desk to meet me. He pulled me into a bracing hug and kissed the top of my head; dragging in a slow, deep breath of appreciation.

  "Mmmm, you smell so good after a night full of alcohol." With another gentle squeeze, he reluctantly let me go. "You came all the way here to see little ‘ole me, huh?"

  "Yeah. Well you know, I just happened to be in the neighborhood, and just thought I would stop in and say hi." I shrugged nonchalantly.

  Gage looked at the watch on his wrist. "At midnight?"

  "It's midnight already? I had no idea."

  "Oh, likely story. I'm glad you're here, though. I've missed your face." He pulled me by the arm into the office. "Tell me about your day. How was work at the gallery?"

  I plopped myself into a chair while he resumed going through some files, and filled him in on my busy week.

  "It's going great now. Today I finally convinced Harrison to let me set it up the way I wanted. There really are a lot of beautiful pieces in there."

  "It's a student showcase, correct?"

  "Actually it’s an alumni showcase. It’s meant to inspire current students with what they can achieve. Then we’re also setting up a ‘Best of’ showcase as well."

  "You love it, don't you?" he asked as he turned back towards me with a few files in his hands.

  "Love what? The art?"

  "The art, setting it up. All of it. Your voice has this tone to it that I don't usually get to hear."

  I thought on that for a moment. Being able to sort through all of the paintings, drawings and sculptures had been an amazing job, and I found immense joy in setting the studio up in order to showcase each piece to the best of its ability.

  "You're right, I do love it. It's kind of been a surprise to me."

  "Why is that?"