When I looked at the stage, Jeffrey was glaring at me. No one else would know, but I knew. I shut my mouth and paid attention. As he began his elaborate dance routine, he gave me a nod. Good girl. Shut it. Zip the lips.
I nodded back, swallowing a buzzed out giggle. ‘You’re drunk,’ Jack snickered.
‘Buzzed.’ I didn’t let my lips move or Jeffrey was going to kick my ass.
‘Lit.’
‘Mildly happy.’
‘Drunkard,’ he laughed.
‘Douche bag,’ I countered.
Then Jeffrey was giving me the evil eye and I started chewing my cocktail straw.
‘May I join you?’ someone said and I looked up. He had to be gay. I mean, we were in a gay bar, with a huge queen on stage performing and this guy was hotter than a lit match.
‘Sure!’
‘Absolutely,’ Jack said practically salivating.
But Mr spiky brown hair and sea glass green eyes only had a gaze for me. ‘Shane,’ he said, shaking my hand.
‘Merritt,’ I breathed.
‘Of course,’ grumbled Jack and then we were all applauding and giving Jeffrey a standing O. I was the loudest, doing my wolf whistle and clapping like a maniac. I mean, how else was I going to get him to forgive me?
Shane said he was a carpenter and I think I said something genius like, ‘Like Jesus’ and my brother said, ‘She’s drunk’ and Shane said, ‘She’s cute too.’
And then he took me home. When I woke up the next morning, there was a note.
Hey, there, Merritt,
You sure were fun last night. Call me when you get up. Or when the pain reliever kicks in. I’d like to take you out for dinner, maybe a whole evening that doesn’t involve Italian Surfers and me trying to convince you that I’m not Jesus just because I can build a bookcase. Call me.
Shane (who is not Jesus)
And then his number. I patted my throbbing head and realised I was still in my jeans, my black tunic and my chandelier earrings. All he’d removed were my strappy silver heels. The phone rang and I nearly gagged from the sudden ear splitting sound.
‘Grmph.’
‘Good morning, Mary!’ Jeffrey cackled like the horribly evil witch of the east coast. Cruella DeDrag.
‘Mary?’ I groaned. I rolled over, buried my head under the pillow. I needed a Big Gulp, a gallon of water, 60 ibuprofen and to die. Right now. On the spot.
‘How’s Jesus?’
I groaned again. Apparently I’d gotten stuck in a Jesus loop the night before. ‘Loop?’ I asked.
‘Massive, never ending, drunken loop,’ Jeffrey confirmed.
‘Jesus,’ I moaned.
‘Exactly!’ he giggled and I hung up on him.
Chapter Seven
‘MERRITT, WHAT IS WRONG with you? Are you hearing me?’ My mother’s voice was like a knife in my head.
‘I’m just not feeling well,’ I muttered. I flipped the page of my container catalogue, trying to figure what would be good to put in Penn’s artist loft. Funny, I had a bunch of current projects, but my brain kept returning to the barely controlled chaos of his home. And yes, him. Even now, while my brain felt like some painful desiccated thing, I found it returning to him. I marked some steel grey cabinets with a sticky and my mother tapped the table with her chopstick.
‘Are you drunk?’
‘She’s post drunk,’ Jack chuckled. Who’d invited him, anyway? A cosy lunch at the local Chinese place on a work day was not the norm. I could feel the proverbial other shoe waiting to drop.
‘Post drunk?’ my mother asked, spearing a baby mushroom with her chopstick like a warrior running through a wild boar with a stick.
‘I was drunk last night,’ I said quietly so as not to make myself ill. ‘Would you like a fork, Mom?’
‘Oh, no, if I’m going to eat these people’s food, I want to eat like ...’
‘These people?’
‘Why yes,’ she said, looking confused.
I nodded. Lord. These people. Had my mother always talked about people who were not in the spitting image of herself as if they were rare foliage of some sort?
‘So what will you do when you come to the gay bar, mother? Drink pink drinks and wear a boa?’ Jack asked.
My mother froze, speared shrimp inches from her mouth, red and full courtesy of Cover girl. ‘Gay bar?’
‘I got a job there.’ Jack laughed softly and deftly gathered a mouthful of General Tsao’s Chicken and shovelled it into his maw.
My mother looked pale. I downed my water. Maybe I was still dehydrated. Maybe I was hallucinating. ‘Mother, breathe,’ I said.
‘But you have a job.’
‘I need more money, my rent just went up. I got a job working where Jeffrey works.’
My insides seemed to shrivel in on themselves. ‘Doing what?’ Don’t say it, don’t say it, pleasepleaseplease don’t say it ...
‘Cage dancing,’ Jack said.
Damn! He’d said it!
‘At the ... at the ...’ My mother was in a loop.
‘At The Drunken Flamingo,’ he said.
She opened her mouth and then closed it so hard it snapped. I was so flustered my ears were ringing, or maybe that was alcohol poisoning. ‘I was so drunk last night I thought a guy was Jesus!’ I blurted.
They both turned to look at me and Jack smirked. My mother said, ‘That’s nice, dear. The Drunken Flamingo,’ she said like a woman in a fugue. Then she stood and took her purse into the ladies’ room.
‘Jack you are a colossal shit!’ I hissed.
‘Merritt, honey, she has to deal with it. How would you feel if she didn’t accept you?’
‘She doesn’t. She’s our mother, that’s her job! She thinks everything I do is wrong, frivolous or not thought out. She thinks Jeffrey walks on water and you were a close second and I am somewhere below the garbage men and the guy who sucks scum out of her pool.’
‘Nah. You work for yourself, she thinks that’s great.’
‘Unwise to be your own boss,’ I quoted.
‘You’re smart,’ Jack said, eating more.
‘You’re not as clever as you think you are,’ I mimicked my mother’s voice.
‘You were married!’ Jack countered.
‘What did you do to turn that man gay?’ I parroted. ‘And even gay shouldn’t he have used you as a beard?’ I added. ‘So basically, Jack, I failed twice!’
He frowned. ‘Merritt, I need the money. Jeff helped me get a job and I’m doing it. Besides, why do I go to the gym six times a week if I can’t rock out the bod?’ he laughed and my mother emerged from the ladies’ room. Her lipstick fresh and new and ... askew.
‘Look what you’ve done,’ I growled and my head throbbed in time with my pulse. ‘You’ve given our mother a stroke.’
‘When is your first show, Jackie?’ my mother asked. ‘I want to come.’
Jack started choking on his chicken and it was my turn to smirk.
Jeffrey handed me a wine and I sipped it. ‘Pink?’ he asked.
‘Won’t give me pirate teeth,’ I said.
‘Ah, I do agree. Girl your teeth turn as black as a berry when you drink red.’
‘Exactly, and I already kept calling the man Jesus. I sure don’t need to look like Captain Jack.’
‘You’d need bigger hair than this,’ he said, pulling it back and starting to back comb it so it would poof. My dark brown hair was streaked gold and honey from the summer and I knew what he was about to do.
‘Do not! Do not give me a drag queen ‘do’,’ I laughed.
‘Fine, fine, you persnickety wench.’ Jeffrey got the flat iron and started to smooth my hair. I put the last of my mascara on and tried not to be nervous.
‘Why am I so nervous?’
‘Cause we are about to meet Mr April in a non-drunken state. What took him so long, anyway? It’s been almost a week since you met.’
‘He had to go home for a family event. Parents’ big anniversary or something. He’s from J
ersey.’
Jeffrey froze. ‘Really?’
‘Yeah, why?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever met someone from Jersey,’ he said. ‘Fuhgeddabowdit,’ he said in his best Tony Soprano impersonation.
I rolled my eyes and smeared my mascara. ‘Damn. Look what you made me do. And that was terrible by the way.’
Jeffrey shrugged and put some magical balm on my hair that kept it from frizzing. I looked like a princess. ‘Thank you, I try.’
‘Speaking of terrible, how is Jack doing?’
‘He starts tonight.’
‘Tonight?’ I yelped.
‘Yep.’
‘Oh wow. Is he any good?’
‘Depends on how you mean,’ Jeffrey winked
‘You’d better no–’
‘Kidding, kidding. Actually he is. He can dance and everything. Pretty good body. Tight little pack–’
‘Ah! Lalalalala,’ I chanted.
His lips stopped moving and I uncovered my ears. ‘Your mother’s coming tonight.’
‘Oh, fuck.’
‘Exactly.’
‘Oh my holy fuck!’ My heartbeat had tripled. And if I felt that way, then how would Jack feel?
‘I know.’ Jeffrey shook his head but he was grinning. The sadist in him was enjoying the hell out of this.
The doorbell rang and my heartbeat torqued up even more. ‘I’m going to drop dead from all the stress,’ I muttered.
‘How do you think Jack feels?’ Jeffrey laughed and finished off my wine in three big gulps.
Bitch.
I ran to the door and pulled it open. Very nervous, very excited, very ready. Shane was a cutie patootie and I was ready, ready, ready to go out with him!
I stalled out like a car with no gas. My ex husband stared at me, glassy eyes and inebriated. ‘Baby, I want to come back!’ he said and burst into tears.
‘Giiiiiirl,’ Jeffrey said.
‘Shit,’ I sighed.
Chapter Eight
WE PROPPED DRAKE up in the armchair and I called his mother. Jeffrey gave him coffee and I thought, with his mom Gloria on the way, we might escape it. But no, the doorbell rang again.
‘Shane!’ I practically yelled as I threw open the door. I wanted Jeffrey to know. Maybe he could keep my extremely drunk bisexual ex quiet while I hustled non-Jesus out of the house. It had all come out in the wash that Drake was indeed bisexual, not gay, but had been in love with the coach and thusly not me any longer. Now he swore he had seen the error of his ways and wanted another chance. The problem? I didn’t love Drake anymore and the longer we were apart the more I realised that I hadn’t loved him for a while.
‘Who is not Jesus,’ Shane said softly. He was kind of shy. Not painfully so, but quiet.
‘Exactly. Not, not, not Jesus!’ I cackled. Oh God. I really had to calm down.
He started in and I blocked him like an ice hockey player protecting his goal. ‘Hey, how about we leave?’
‘Oh ... um, sure. Can I just use your bathr–’
‘Whodat!’ Drake yelled, his voice bawdy, slurry and full of bad enunciation.
Crap.
‘Merritt?’ Shane said.
‘Yeah, see about that. That’s a friend. And the other friend, Jeffrey, the impersonator you saw?’
He nodded, smiling. Ready to understand. What a good guy. ‘Yeah, I remember.’
‘Well, he’s taking care of our friend until his ride comes and–’
‘Whodat here hitting on my wa-hife?’ Drake demanded. He hiccupped mid wife but other than that, clear as a bell. He appeared in the doorway, tall, dark and handsome with Jeffrey, who was not as tall or broad as Drake, hanging from his shoulders like a spider monkey.
‘Wife?’ Shane asked.
‘Former wife,’ I tried.
‘Love of ma lah-hife,’ Drake chimed in, hiccupping again.
‘Dear holy Jesus,’ Jeffrey said.
‘What’s with you guys and Jesus?’ Shane asked.
I rolled my eyes and then surprised myself by crying. Hard. Three men started toward me and I threw up my hands like someone was pointing a gun at me and had yelled Freeze!‘Do not. Touch. Me.’ I stomped into the bathroom to try and do damage control on my eye makeup. Every time I got myself under control, I started to sniffle and leak again. I heard Drake say, ‘Whazz all this bis-uh-ness about Jesus?’
Jeffrey murmured something and though I strained I heard not a word from Shane. Then someone knocked, very softly but very firmly. ‘Yes?’
‘Can I come in?’
Shane of all people. I had been expecting a big black drag queen with wine coloured lip-gloss and purple fingernails. ‘Sure.’
He came in, smiling. His green eyes so bright and clear they could have been stained glass. Gorgeous. ‘Shit, I’m really, really sorry about this. I didn’t know you’d be walking into a three ring circus. I think it seals the whole crazy woman persona you probably had in your head.’ I wiped my nose and checked my face. Red nose like Rudolph, red cheeks, red eyes. Basically when I cry I start to resemble a cherry tomato. Or a lifelong drunkard.
‘Crazy woman?’ He pushed a piece of hair off my shoulder and smiled. The smile went right to my crotch. Yowza, he truly was super hot up close and personal.
‘Yeah, the whole Italian Surfer binge and the carpenter thing. The queen in my living room who was riding my giant bi-ex-husband.’
‘Actually, I think you’re pretty neat,’ he said. And he really did say neat.
‘You do?’
He’d stepped closer and I could feel the very mellow but big presence of him. Like a wall of warm summer air pressed up against my personal space. ‘I do. And I think you just need a bit of a stress relief before we go out.’ He leaned in and kissed me. So, so softly it was almost like I had imagined it, but when the tip of his tongue brushed the tip of mine for just a second, I knew it was real.
‘I seem stressed?’ I managed.
‘Oh ... just a bit,’ he chuckled. ‘And if it’s any consolation, I’d be pretty stressed out too. I was, actually.’
He’d backed me into a corner and now he kissed me for real. ‘You were?’ I asked.
‘Wouldn’t you be? If you walked into that?’
My shoulder blades nestled between wall and the towel bar and I gave and oomph!His lips smothered the small sound and his hands slipped along the flat of my belly, fingers tickling and feeling along. Just soft enough to turn my insides hot and wet, but not so soft as to trigger my tickle gene and have me jumping like a fish on a hook. ‘I would have run if I’d walked into that,’ I confessed,
‘I thought about it,’ Shane said against my throat. ‘But then you started to cry and I have a soft spot for beautiful, nice, funny women who cry. Don’t cry, Merritt.’
‘I’ll try,’ I said and his fingertips dipped under the waist band of my jeans. My hips wanted to shoot forward and beg him to touch me, lick me, take me. But I held onto my composure and kept kissing that warm sweet mouth of his.
‘Can I help you? Can I give you a bit of stress relief?’ he asked and there was a smile in his voice that I could hear even with my eyes closed.
Oh, I had been waiting all week to go out with Shane the Jesus man and I could only nod. Words eluded me.
‘Because there’s something I’ve wanted to do since I peeled those strappy sandals off of you when I brought you home.’ His fingers deftly popped my button and I whimpered.
‘You have?’
‘I have. May I?’
‘Oh, God, yes,’ I sighed.
‘Don’t you mean Jesus?’ Shane laughed and dropped to his knees.
Oh, he was a divine gift from the Universe. He was. He peeled the jeans back and then down, the denim kissing my thighs that prickled with goose bumps. He traced the feathery pattern on my silk panties and then hooked his fingers in the side strings and pulled those down too. Shane kissed one hipbone and then the other and I thought I’d just die.
Somewhere in the outsid
e world of my home, Drake bellowed drunkenly, but this man was parting my thighs with his hands and he pressed his tongue to my clit after spreading my outer lips wide. I almost sank to the floor, dragging him with me. These past weeks with no tongue, no oral, no wet slippery mouth attention had seemed like a million years or more.
I spread my legs just a little bit and he pushed his face to my pussy. Shane, perfect, awesome, lovely Shane took to eating me out like a thirsty man to a cold beer. It had been way too long and he was way too good and within seconds I was walking the line of a bright slick orgasm that threatened to knock me on my ass.
He felt it, heard my breath increase, my muscles tense; he was good. His fingers tightened on my thighs and he stopped his languid licks and sucked for an instant. Warmth flooded me and when he paused to blow on my clit I shook. He resumed his patter and that instant of change was all my body needed. I came. Fluid slipping from me so suddenly that I felt it. Heated wetness graced my thighs and Shane kept working me with his tongue. I started again. The upward thrust of an orgasm and, just as I crested, the door opened and Jeffrey’s eyes flew wide. ‘Oh–’ he said.
‘Oh!’ I said because I was too far gone to stop now and Shane had redoubled his oral efforts, doing more mystical things with his mouth as soon as the door flew open.
Jeffrey backed out and though I had instinctively attempted to back away from Shane’s lips, he held me tight and kept going. I came again, with him drinking me in and the door slam echoing in my ears. My fingers buried in his spiky dark hair and my hips pressed to the cool tile wall in the intense dance of my own release.
When he stood, he kissed me on the lips. His mouth juicy with the taste of me. Somewhere between pineapple and cane sugar. Shane held me to the wall, kissing me deeply, his cock so hard in his pants I had to fight the urge to do him right there. But I’d heard Drake’s mom and I had to be a big girl and go deal with all this shit. ‘God, I am so much less stressed. Despite the pop in and us being seen.’
‘I liked that part the best,’ he said, pushing his hard-on to the front of me. The firm length of his cock pressed my still pounding clit. I could feel my heartbeat in my pussy and I wanted more. But not now.
‘You did?’
‘Yeah. I like to be watched.’ He kissed me again and licked my bottom lip so that I gave a little shudder and ran my hand along his rigid member. ‘But more than that ... I like to watch.’
Calendar Girl - An erotic novel (Xcite Erotic Romance Novels) Page 6
