‘Spill it!’ Lisa whispered.
I took a sip of the divine, decadent, adored half and half. Half dark chocolate cocoa and half dark roast coffee. I bit into my heavenly pastry and chewed languidly until Lisa raised a clenched fist in a don’t-push-megesture and I laughed. ‘OK, OK. Firstly, he is adorable and sweet. Secondly, he is hung.’
She choked on her coffee but made the go on, go on hand gesture.
‘Thirdly, he knows what to do with it,’ I said. I took another rich nibble and speared a piece of melon with my fork. ‘Fourthly, he has a hair fetish.’
‘Wait!’ She leaned in. ‘You mean, like, he comes in your hair?’
I thought about it. Shook my head. ‘Not yet, but I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s coming. So, to speak.’ I grinned at my own unintentional pun.
‘So how do you know he’s got a hair fetish, then? I am not up on my fetishes. I tend to date men who like the missionary position, prefer a good steak to good sex and wouldn’t know a fetish if it bit them on the ass. Well, maybe a good steak is their fetish.’
‘Our first date, after we ... did it ... he brushed my hair. For a long time. Then the second time we had sex, he had my hair wrapped around his hand while he did me from behind.’ While she looked flushed and surprised, I finished off a ripe, perfect strawberry.
‘Go on,’ she said, her cheeks red like the berry.
‘Then last night, in his apartment, he parted it into two sections and held one in each hand while he um ... well, you know.’
‘Like he was riding a horse?’ she said.
‘Yeah. Sort of. Oh! And before he did that, he was rubbing his cock in my hair.’
A woman behind us turned and frowned at me.
‘Maybe I said that a bit too loud,’ I mumbled.
‘A bit.’
‘So that’s how I know. Tada!’
‘Do you think he will want to, you know, come in your hair?’
I shrugged. ‘Probably. Who knows.’
‘Are you OK with that?’
‘Why not? I mean, it’s not like it’s permanent. It washes right out. If it does something for him, why not?’
Lisa nodded. ‘I’m envious of you. All this sexual adventure. But ...’
Here it came. She was going to lecture me.’ But what, Lisa? Go on.’
‘Just be careful. If you’re all in, have fun, girl. I think you should. But if there comes a point where you don’t want to do it, don’t just ... do it. You know because of the plan. Just let it go if it doesn’t serve your purpose any more. You are brave and wonderful but you ...’
She looked down and sipped her coffee.
‘But I what! Stop doing that!’
‘But you have a good heart. A romantic heart. And a kind of soft heart. I just don’t want it broken again. So be true to yourself is all I’m saying. Go with your heart.’
‘My heart got me married to a guy who’d rather cheat on me in my own living room than trust me and be honest with me, even though we’d been married for forever.’ I finished my croissant but they were angry bites.
‘But that doesn’t change who you are, Merritt.’
‘Well, it should.’
‘But it doesn’t.’
I cleared my throat, because I felt tears threatening. ‘Well, the hair boy might be irrelevant soon enough. I have a phone call date tonight,’ I jokingly bragged.
Lisa smiled, knowing to let it go, and said, ‘Oh, yeah? Do tell.’
‘Penn Fratila. Local artist. Local messyartist,’ I laughed.
‘Penn?’
‘He’s from Transylvania!’
‘My God, really?’
‘No. He’s from Romania. But it sounds better saying Transylvania, don’t you think? Especially since he has that hunky accent. But he’s local and he’s handsome and he called last night and plans to call this morning.’
‘What kind of name is Penn and why are you so excited about his calling you? You never diddle clients.’
‘I know. Dammit. Penn is short for Pennsylvania which they named him because it sounds like a place they’d come from. Get it, Pennsylvania?’
‘I get it. It’s weird but I get it.’
I smiled, chugging the rest of my coffee. ‘True story. But anyway, he’s hot and he’s got this vampire accent and his art is just ... wow. Ever seen a picture of snow falling at night?’
‘Sure.’
‘Pretty, isn’t it? Looks entirely different than during the day. It looks huge and white and somehow more beautiful and colder?’
‘Yeah, I hear ya. I know what you mean.’ She raised a finger to our waitress and then pointed to her coffee. More.
‘Well that’s what his art makes me feel. Makes me think of. Cold and night and ice and beauty. Navy blue and that surreal moment when you feel like everything is magical.’
Now she leaned in, blew out a breath. ‘Wow,’ Lisa said. ‘You have it bad for this guy and you don’t even know it. You just think he’s one of your calendar boys.’
‘I ... I ... he’s cute, sure, but it’s not–’
Lisa snorted and waved a hand at me. ‘Do not bullshit a bullshitter. You are hot for the artist. Bad. For real.’
‘I ...’
‘How do you feel about your arranged call tonight?’
I gulped. ‘Like I should put pretty panties on,’ I blurted.
Lisa threw her hands up in the air and the waitress – Sylvie by her nametag – dodged her to top off her cup. ‘Well, there you go!’
‘Can I?’ I pointed to mine and Sylvie nodded, off to get a sweet sinful refill for me too. ‘There I go what?’ I refused to even consider that she was right.
‘You feel like you should wear pretty underthings for a phone call. Are you super excited? Like ridiculously excited?’
‘No.’ Lies!
‘Lie!’ My friend said, pointing an accusatory finger at me. Jeeze! ‘You are lying!’
‘I am not.’ Another lie!
‘More lies! You are. You are hung up on this guy. Ever dream about him?’ she asked, leaning in close and watching my face. I felt like I was under the gaze of a human lie detector. Because I was.
‘No.’
‘Lie,’ she said, holding up another finger.
‘Ever you know ... fly solo while you thought about him?’
She meant masturbation and I felt my cheeks colour. ‘No!’ I yelped indignantly. But it was a lie.
‘Lie,’ she said again, holding up another finger.
I snorted, looked away, fidgeted. This was so unfair. Couldn’t I just be clueless if I wanted to be? Just because I was infatuated with the Transylvanian didn’t mean I liked him for real. Right? People get infatuated all the time.
‘What if hair fetish boy called you up and said he wanted to take you out dancing and for drinks. You love dancing, remember? But he wanted to take you out earlier and you’d have to miss the call. What would you do?’
I twisted my tee hem in my fingers and looked around for Sylvie. Where was my coffee? ‘I would totally go and just hope that Penn called me back tomorrow so I could explain.’
She held up her middle finger, her fuck you finger, and pointed it at me. ‘Lie again.’
‘I did not lie.’
‘You tugged the end of your hair,’ Lisa said.
‘So?’
‘So you tug your hair when you are lying. You have since the fifth grade. It’s your tell.’
‘I ... you are so wr– ... I have to go,’ I said and stood so fast I knocked my chair over. All heads turned to me and I blushed harder. I threw a ten on the table and said, ‘Drink my half and half. Enjoy. You need a little more meat on your bones. You’re too skinny,’ I said and turned fast, grabbing my bag.
‘Merritt, don’t be upset with me!’ she called.
I turned around and waved. ‘I’m not upset with you! I’m late,’ I yelled. Then I hurried out.
I was a bit late and I wasn’t upset with Lisa. I was upset with me. How had I not understoo
d that I was feeling stuff for this man? For no rhyme or reason. For no good reason! For no apparent reason! There was no reason!
And yet, when I thought about that phone call, my stomach twisted and tingled and I felt sick and exhilarated all at once.
Chapter Twenty-three
‘I AM JUST SO NERVOUS about it,’ Trudy MacDonald said. ‘I don’t know how Kevin will react. But my mother ... my mother needs me and I just need to get a handle on this.’
I forked up a bite of salad but didn’t eat it. ‘If I may speak candidly.’
‘Of course. Go ahead,’ she sipped her iced tea and sat back leaving her Reuben sandwich untouched.
‘What you’re describing isn’t really hoarding, but they do sort of follow specific patterns. You buy something and something else and something else and then you’re hiding it. So it stacks up and stacks up and stacks up. Right?’
Trudy nodded. Her eyes were big green shiny gems in her long pale face. She had high cheekbones and long chestnut hair. Slim and toned, she wore a sleeveless cowl necked orange top, black capris and African print wedges. She was a well put together woman who had two guest bedrooms that looked (from the pictures on her cell phone) very much like Michelle’s home. Something was missing that Trudy was filling with stuff. That was not my business, but if I was going to help her she had to get it.
‘Right. Go on.’
‘What you need to do, for your sake and for your husband and your mom is figure out why you’re buying all this stuff. Because your stress is going to go up if she’s moving in and she’s ill. So you need to care for her and someone else is in your home that you’re used to sharing with your husband and, do you have kids?’
‘One. My daughter, Eileen.’
‘Right. You’re used to your family dynamic and now you’ll have a daughter, a husband anda mother to care for. The stress is going to trigger your shopping.’
‘I got a shrink. I know it’s an issue. I start this week.’
I smiled and felt the weight of an invisible piano be lifted off my back. ‘Good, I’m glad. It will make it all much easier.’
‘Got it.’
‘But in order to get your home ready, you’re going to have to ditch a good amount of this stuff.’ Just in the photo I could see items in original boxes, bags and with tags still attached. She didn’t use most of her purchases. She acquired. She wasn’t a clothes horse who wore it all and changed three times a day. She was stuffing some hole in her life with shopping.
And you are stuffing with conquests ...
I blinked, shook my head, pushed the thought away. ‘I understand.’
‘I recommend big items go in the local free paper. They have a cap but if it’s under $300, you can list it for free. I think a lot of the clothes and shoes and stuff can go on eBay or similar. I think a bunch can be donated.’ I filled her in on the women’s shelter I had told Michelle about. ‘You can sell, donate and help all with a lot of stuff that is simply sitting there. You can clear your house, your head and make room for your mother. And that is the most important thing right now.’
She nodded, dabbing at her eyes with her napkin. ‘It is. My mother has always taken such good care of me. I want to do that for her.’
‘And you will,’ I said. I put my hand on hers though we’d just met. ‘You will. Sometimes that’s the problem anyway. You just need someone or something to care about. Helping your mom is probably going to end up helping you.’
She smiled. ‘Excellent. Now I will stop crying and embarrassing myself and you will eat that fabulous Greta’s Famous salad I treated you to and tell me all about how you ended up doing this job and anything else interesting about yourself.’
She was nice, Trudy was. So I started to eat my Greta’s famous salad and tell her how I’d organised all the girls’ closets in the college dorm and then my mother’s house when I moved out. ‘Something interesting. Um ... let’s see ...’
I’m going to wear pretty panties for a man to call me from vampire country so we can pretend to discuss toolboxes and storage ... Did that count?
I lit the candle, blew it out. Lit it. Blew it out. Finally, I lit it and put it on the coffee table and took three big steps back before I could blow it out. I had on panties and a bra the colours of a Florida sunrise. Juicy orange and summer yellow with a bit of peach and sherbet pink. I had tossed a pale yellow shift dress over it. The dress was cute, made me look smartly casual like a modern day Gidget, but it was the under things that counted.
I poured a huge glass of wine. I was a nervous wreck! My face a bit numb and tingly, my stomach nervous like I was riding an amusement park ride. My fingers shook a little as I took a tiny sip of the rich red Cabernet. I shifted in place and felt the slippery tell-tale sign of anticipation and arousal between my legs. My pretty panties were soaked already and he hadn’t even called. He had me so much more worked up than any of the others and he wasn’t even here.
What did that mean? It scared me. It was insane. And wonderful.
It was seven after six. Seven after. He wasn’t going to call. The phone rang and I grabbed it, almost splashing wine on my pretty yellow dress. ‘Hello! Um, sorry,’ I said, trying to calm myself down. ‘Hello,’ I said again. I tried to sound sultry but sounded more like I had bronchitis.
‘Hi, yourself! You OK?’
Damn, damn and double damn! It was Matthew. Hot and wonderful and awesome in his own right, but definitely not Penn Fratila. ‘Oh, hey there.’ Panic swelled up in me. I had call waiting but didn’t trust it in an emergency. I mean, wouldn’t that be when something like that would fail? When you were getting a long distance phone call date with a smoking hot man?
It’s not a date, you lunatic!
‘Can we get together tonight?’
‘Not tonight!’I said it way too fast and there was that hurt and semi-suspicious pause.
‘Oh. OK, problem?’
‘No! No problem,’ I said fast like I was on crack. ‘I just have to work is all. Conference call. And I don’t know how late it will go and gosh,’ I forced a yawn. ‘I’m so tired still. Didn’t sleep well last night ...’ I trailed off.
Must have been all the pornographic dreams you had.
‘If it’s a date, you can tell me, Merritt. We just met and though the sex is to die for, don’t get me wrong,’ Matthew chuckled and it warmed my insides. I truly did like him. He was a great man. ‘But we have no claim on each other and I’ll understand if it’s a date.’
‘It is not a date,’ I said. Mostly. ‘It really is a phone call,’ I laughed. From a guy who makes me crazier with each passing minute. My eyes found the clock and I saw it was now ten after. I sighed. He wasn’t going to call.
‘OK, then. Call me tomorrow?’
‘Of course.’ My body calmed down a bit. That’s what disappointment will do for you. It’ll calm you right the fuck down.
‘Good. I’ll miss seeing you tonight. I feel very secure arou– BOOBOOP! – you. You know?’
Call waiting. ‘Um ...’
‘It’s not easy to meet a girl that lets you be– BOOBOOP! – self.’
‘Yeah, yeah, yeah! I know. Totally. I’m sorry. Other line! Gotta go!’ I shouted and hit the flash button. ‘Hello?’
‘Is everything OK?’ he asked. Penn. Penn Fratila and his mesmerizing voice. My bones turned to rubber and I flopped onto the sofa.
‘Everything is fine. I just shouted at a very nice man, hung up on him basically and acted like a mental patient. Status quo,’ I snorted and quickly covered my face as if he could see me.
‘Ah, I see. I find it rather endearing when you can’t quite manage yourself,’ he said.
Boy that took me back. You’re not very organised for an organiser, are you?
‘Why is that?’ I breathed. Just this simple conversation had an oddly erotic quality to it. I wiggled on the sofa, trying to get myself under control.
‘Because you’re even more beautiful when you are flustered.’
‘I am?�
�� I sounded flabbergasted. I was flabbergasted. How a man as good looking and talented as this one could think I was beautiful floored me. How he could repeatedly call me from thousands of miles away made my head hurt. Why me?
Why him? Why does he affect you the way he does?
Well, just look at him! I wanted to say to myself. But that wasn’t it. Not really. Eli, Matthew, Stefan ... none of them had been ugly. Let’s face it, they’d all been handsome men. So it wasn’t the looks. It was a vibe about him.
‘You are. You are beautiful. And talented. I know you are. Despite your purse.’
I grinned but refused to give him the satisfaction of a laugh. ‘You’ve just heard rumours.’
‘True ones,’ he said. ‘My agent only hires the best. He’s told me stories about you working with people who ... what’s the word? Not collect but ...’
‘Hoard?’ I asked.
‘Yes, that’s it. And you’re compassionate from what I hear. And when I met you I was, hmm ...’
He stopped. Don’t stop! Don’t stop! I held my breath, bit my lip. Waited. A million years later – OK, it only felt like it – he said, ‘I was quite taken with you.’
I blew out the breath, sounding like a balloon deflating. Sexy. ‘You were?’
Duh!
‘I was. I am. I have been thinking of stupid reasons to call you since I left. So I’m coming home. And I’d like to take you out. Sooner than planned. Is that OK?’
‘Yes,’ I sighed. Every intention to climb him like a spider monkey was in that one word and I giggled from sheer nerves. ‘I mean, it’s fine.’
‘Good.’ I heard him sip something and took a sip of my wine.
‘Why are you coming home early?’
There was a pause, as if he were considering telling me something, and then he said, ‘I came here for the wedding. My cousin’s. And I came for such a long time because I thought there was something here for me. But there isn’t. It’s for the best, though. I was pretty sure. I just needed to be 100 per cent sure.’
When he said per cent, and it rolled off his tongue, I smiled. It was both endearing and so arousing it wasn’t funny. ‘Are you sure now?’ I asked. It was clear he was referring to a woman.
Calendar Girl - An erotic novel (Xcite Erotic Romance Novels) Page 16
