“I told you not to ask,” Zelda said.
Chapter 8
Surreal.
The experience of watching her brother teach Scott how to grill steaks was surreal in her mind. Questions on how Scott Berger lived his life pinged in her head since he was forty years old, had never been grocery shopping, didn’t know how to grill, and a snack for him consisted of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with milk, even though he’d purchased $300 worth of groceries.
He’d told his mother that I was the one, repeating it in front of my brother as if our future together were some task on his to-do list. Let’s see, what is on my list this week: hmm, play with my case of eyeballs, attach a doll foot, make Zelda my love slave, then marry her and make hairy, doll making, ventriloquist voice throwing buck-toothed children.
I know his game.
He’s making me dick addicted, stringing me out on the good loving so I lose all rational train of thought and become one of them dumb bitches that every time he waves his big ole dick around I am entranced.
Yes, Scott. I am all wet and ready, Scott. Make me cum for you, Scott; all Stepford Wife and shit.
Zelda looked up and he was watching her face. Without the glasses, he was kind of actually, kind of really getting under her skin, kind of fucking sexy. The intense stare he gave her hardened her nipples, dampened her panties, and nearly made her want to touch herself inappropriately with her brother standing right there. She stared back at him, one eyebrow arched.
“Hey,” he said to Michael. “I may need you to turn your head for a minute because I am about to kiss your sister, real romantic like.”
Michael frowned at him, “What?”
Six long, purpose-driven strides put Scott back in the kitchen, lifting Zelda, chair included up into his arms, kissing her mouth, claiming her thoughts, manipulating the moment over and over again as his lips slanted over hers. He completed the kiss, sitting her back down along with her chair. Her breathing ragged, her skin flushed, she pressed her hand to her chest to slow her thumping heart. He leaned over, whispering in her ear.
“Every time I look at you, my shit gets so hard my head hurts as if all of my blood drains to my dick so I can fill it up to please you. I don’t know what you’re doing to me, but I like it. If you are planning to wrap me around your finger, use me, ride me until my balls are so dry that I can’t give you children, I don’t care. All I know is that I want whatever you are dishing out, and I will take seconds, thirds, and a heaping helping of...,” he said as his palmed hand slid between her thighs, massaging, with one well-pressured swipe, that damp, sweet spot which ached for him.
Zelda leaned into him, moaning into his ear. His teeth nipped at the little divot in her neck sending more shivers, more moisture, and impure thoughts through her already over stimulated body. Then he stepped away, the massive hard on going with him, both of them walking down the hall heading into her bedroom.
I am not following him.
If I follow that man into my bedroom, my brother is going to hear Scott getting the shit fucked out of him. He is also going to hear his little sister howling like she was Ms. Honeywell’s Lassie.
Zelda's eyes went to her brother, who stood at the grill looking at her the same way he had that time when she ate too much chili and rode the Ferris Wheel at the carnival.
“Just pathetic,” he said to her.
“I know. I know,” she said.
“I like him,” Michael told her.
She crinkled her nose. “I do, too,” she said, grinning.
“Yeah, that’s obvious,” he said, shaking his head. “Your kids though...girl! People are going to ask, hey Mike is that your niece? I will be all like, nope. I don’t know that hairy little bucked toothed girl.”
“Mike, that’s mean!” she said to him. “Besides, you are going to love my kids no matter how they look.”
“Yeah, but if they walk around with a pocket calculator and a container of almost humanlike glass eyeballs, Uncle Mike is gonna have to leave their hairy little asses at home with their Mama,” he said chuckling, looking at her side-eyed.
“How did you know about the pocket calculator?”
“He whipped it out to calculate the optimal temperature to sear the meat,” he said. “Turns out he was right.”
Michael watched the flushed skin, the glow surrounding her, and the far-off look in her eyes.
“You are falling hard for him, Sis,” he told her.
“Naw, I’m just enjoying the journey,” she said.
“May I ask, if those diamonds and rubies were real?”
“Yes, they have the certification paperwork and stuff to go with them,” she said.
“Hmmph,” he responded, changing the subject. “Dinner is ready on my end. What about yours?”
“Salad, seared potatoes, asparagus, all are ready, so yes,” she said.
“Good, I am starving, but I must say, based on his calculations, he cut the cook time in half to get to the perfect steak. He said he’s never grilled before. What does he do again?”
“Mike, at this point, I am not sure anymore,” she said.
“You need to go and see his world to make some of this add up for both of us. The two ends aren’t matching, which makes the middle look saggy, if you know what I mean,” Michael told her.
“I am already ahead of you. I learned some things about him today, but like you said, I need to see if for myself,” she told him.
“Keep me posted,” Michael concluded as she found her legs to stand and set the dinner table. For some odd reason, she was nervous about the three of them at the table. Michael was notorious for concluding her dates were idiots, which left the meal in an awkward silence, leaving her to carry a forced conversation between the three. Breakfast had been fine. They talked about sports. It still didn’t stop her from worrying. Michael could be tough on guys.
To her extreme delight, dinner went well. She watched her brother and her man chat over the most detailed information on politics, the state of the economy, and professional soccer. Scott included her in the conversation as well as Michael, but she opted instead to simply listen and enjoy the discourse between the two men.
Scott was the third man to sit at this table with her and Michael. Thus far, he had been the only one her brother actually conversed with about more than one subject – her. Scott’s watch beeped.
“Oh, it is almost sunset,” he said, jumping up from the table. “Guys, will you join me on the front porch?”
“What about the table? We have to clear the table,” Zelda said.
“That stuff is not going anywhere. I don’t want to miss this,” he said to them both. “Michael, would you like a beer?”
“Umm, sure,” Michael responded, uncertain of what was happening. They followed Scott outside onto the front porch. As Scott aided Zelda in taking a seat on his left in the rocker, Michael took the one on his right. Scott leaned back in the seat, the open beer in his right hand, taking a large swig and holding Zelda’s fingers in his left hand. Michael looked down the row at his sister, trying to understand what was happening, then the scene began to unfold.
A family passed by walking a Schnauzer, as the mom pushed a stroller of a sleeping, slumped over babe. They waved at them. Zelda and Michael waved back. In the distance, a lawnmower started up as a potbellied neighbor began to mow his lawn. Across the street, a lady in a large brimmed hat exited the front door, connecting the hose to the sprinkler arm, yelping as she moved too slowly to avoid getting sprayed by the rush of cool water. Three kids on bikes sped by, trying desperately to beat the street lights as they headed home from play. A mom chased a half-naked toddler across the grass as she tried feebly to unload groceries, grab the child, and get everything in the house.
Zelda looked over at Scott, whose eyes misted as he watched every little detail as if he were recording it in his memory. She’d lived here nearly all of her life yet until this day, it never dawned on her the beauty of life that she allowed to pass
her front door and never take part in the end of the day. Tears welled in her eyes as she remembered sitting on her father’s lap as he sat in the same chair Scott was in, doing exactly what Scott was doing. Ending his day with his family.
I get it.
I can see him.
“Refreshing,” she said.
“Spectacular,” Scott responded.
“Nostalgic, Michael added.
They sat on the front porch as darkness crept up the stairs, covering their ankles, dragging them into the night until the solar powered lights kicked on, staving off the predatory blackness. A faint memory flashed in her mind as she shook it off. A memory of Michael being angry that it was dark and she was still on the front porch with their father. Sitting in his lap. In the dark. Michael’s anger was real, so real, Zelda could almost feel it touching her now. She waved it off. Ugly. It as an ugly memory. Bury it. Bury it deep.
The front porch memory was now a memory of she, Scott and Micheal ending the day on the porch. This moment had been important to Scott and he wanted them to share it with him, even as they went inside, preparing to end the day. Zelda stood next to him at the kitchen sink as he awkwardly dried dishes as if this too was something he was experiencing for the first time.
Suddenly, a desire to show him so much more first filled her heart. I want a life with this man. I want evenings on the front porch as we end our day.
“I want you too, Scott,” she said.
“Okay,” he said, focusing on getting the cups just right in the cabinet so they were evenly spaced.
He said nothing more as they slid into bed, his arm about her waist, snuggling close to her. No attempt was made on his part to make love to her as he held her body, inhaling the scent of her skin, touching her gently. A small kiss was placed on her cheek.
“This has been an awesome day! One of the best days I have had in years. I can’t wait to see what Tuesday brings,” he told her.
Then he was asleep.
He didn’t move for the rest of the night.
Dead sleep.
What in the hell?
Thirty minutes later, she too slept soundly. A little something she’d found she did whenever he was around.
She woke slowly, stretching, feeling the side of the bed where he slept. It was cold. Cold as in he’d been gone for hours, leaving her alone in the bed. She didn’t like that idea one bit. She turned to see the clock.
It read 10:09 am.
Michael had been gone for some hours, and she wondered what Scott was doing all by himself. Moreover, she wondered why he wasn’t in the bed doing her.
“Dear Lawd, I have turned into some raging sex addict,” she grumbled, trying to get up. It was as if her body knew it was Tuesday and her day to sleep in. If she had her way, she would call him into the bedroom, get her a nice, hot, quick ride on that beautiful instrument and go back to sleep.
Where is he?
Scott materialized around the corner, his eyes wide as if he were afraid of something.
“What’s wrong?”
“A car just pulled up in the driveway,” he said.
“What kind of car?”
“I don’t know. It’s a black coupe. I didn’t look any closer, but two women are coming up to the door,” he told her.
“Oh, that’s Jinny and Margo coming to try and drag me out of the house to have brunch or go shopping,” she said.
Scott was jumpy.
“Man, what is wrong with you?”
The doorbell chimed.
“Where should I hide?” he asked her.
Chapter 9
“Scott, what is wrong with you? No you don’t need to hide, but you do need to put on a shirt,” she told him, getting up from the bed. Her smushed hair and indentations from the creased pillowcase etched in her skin, and legs, long and sexy, distracted him for a moment.
“You sure? If you are not ready for them to see me, I can stay back here or run over and hang out on Michael’s side until they leave,” he said.
“You are going to make me punch you in your throat if you keep talking this nonsense,” she said, calling out to the living room. “On my way!”
One butt cheek hung out of the bright white panties as she scrambled to the living room to get the door. Nervous, Scott paced in her bedroom, then checked his hair in the mirror, next he checked his teeth, and finally, he blew his breath into his hand.
Coffee. Go put on some coffee. Zelda will want some plus the pot I made this morning is no longer fresh. Why am I so nervous? I don’t do well when I am nervous.
He could hear the voices of the women. Talking, chatting, and moving towards him. Oh shit. My shirt! He moved quickly back into her room to locate his white button down. Putting it on over the wife beater, he opted not to button it but changed out of the loungers into a pair of loose fitted black jeans. He listened intently to the voices, trying to determine when to make his appearance.
Her friends did not sound too friendly.
“Girl, can we talk you into leaving this house today and coming out with us?” Jinny wanted to know.
“Nope. Sorry, I have plans today,” she said to her longtime friends who were both stay home at moms.
Margo didn’t believe it, but her eyes went to Lucy sitting in the corner. “What plans do you have with that creepy ass doll sitting over there? Is that one of those ventriloquist dolls?”
“Actually it is,” Zelda told her.
“You taking up ventriloquism?” Jinny asked.
“The doll is not mine,” she said.
“Okay, and what is it you have planned today where you can’t hang out with us,” Margo wanted to know.
“I’m sorry, ladies. I guess that would be my fault. I plan to occupy most of her day,” he said, adding the thick Kentucky accent he didn’t have before.
Jinny pointed at him.
Margo blinked her eyes several times.
Jinny was still pointing.
Margo was still blinking.
“Darling,” he said, layering on the Southern accent. “Is something wrong with your friends?”
“No, they just don’t know what to make of an actual, manly man being so close to them,” she said.
“Who is that?” Jinny said, finding her big girl words.
“What is that?” Margo wanted to know. “Is all that hair everywhere on him like that?”
This question was asked as she pulled back her neck, looking cattywampus at Scott.
“I swear, little lady, you are getting mighty personal at a first meeting,” he said pulling down on the drawl.
“That accent is so killer sexy it is hurting me,” Jinny said. “Are you by chance Scott?”
“One and the same,” he said with a wink, which made Jinny blush. He turned his attention to Zelda. “Darling, you told your friends about me?”
“Yep,” she said, staring at him, wondering why he was laying it on so thick.
“Well, let me pour my lady her morning cup of Joe, then I will get out of your way as you visit with your friends,” he told her.
“You don’t have to go anywhere. They are leaving,” she said. “I will call you guys tomorrow. I am in town all week, we can do something after work, okay.”
Margo took a seat in the chair. “No, it’s not okay. I want to get to know this man who came out of nowhere to be front and center in your life. Suddenly he is more important than we are,” she said like a pouting child.
“Today, he is my priority since my time with him is limited. You live here in town. He doesn’t,” she said to them. “Plus it’s my day off. I want to catch up on my shows, lay on my couch, paint my toenails, and enjoy my day.”
Scott curiously watched her interaction with them.
“And what about him? Is he going to do all that stuff, too?” Margo asked.
“No, in between all of that stuff, he is going to do me. That can’t happen if you are here acting like a child and cock blocking. That is my cock, you are the block, and you need to give a
sister some down time so she can get her love on,” she said.
Jinny got it.
“Come on, Margo,” she said. “Nice meeting you Scott. Enjoy your day off, Z.”
“We don’t know this man. Why are we leaving? Shouldn’t we be interrogating him? What does he do for a living? Why is there a creepy ass doll sitting over there with a special needs little foot? Why is he so damned hairy?”
Jinny grabbed Margo by her arm, yanking it. “Why do you care so much? Let’s let Zelda have her time alone with her man. She deserves it,” she told Margo.
Margo, who reluctantly left by being physically pushed out the front door, stood peering in the window at Scott, who remained still, his hands in his pants pockets looking at the tight faced woman peeping at him through the glass.
“She’s intense,” he said.
“And You! What is with the Kentucky hillbilly accent?” She asked him.
He shook his head. “It comes out when I get nervous,” he said to her, pouring a steaming mug of coffee.
“Shut up! Are you telling me that accent is natural?”
“Yes, the other voice is the one that isn’t real,” he said.
Zelda stood still, blinking like she did when she first saw Scott standing up to his full height behind the bar. Every day and minute she spent with him were like peeling away the layers of a Matryoshka doll. Each layer revealed either a larger or a smaller version of the big joker she called her man.
He exhaled.
“Northerner’s think you are dumb if they hear a Southern accent. Europeans tend to believe you are married to you sister if you have a deep drawl, so I learned to sound like I was from the Midwest,” he told her. The more he spoke, the more he eased back into the voice she’d come to enjoy.
“Sorry about that, Zelda,” he said.
“I guess since I have never heard your natural accent that I don’t make you nervous,” she said, looking at him over the rim of the coffee mug.
“No, you make me feel like the man I have always wanted to be,” he said, shrugging. “Whew, that made me hungry. So, what is on the agenda for the day?”
A Tantalizing Tuesday (The Zelda Diaries Book 2) Page 6
