Kiss and Tell 1

by Faith Winslow

  The barmaid went to the register and started tapping away at it, and as she did, I felt Anthony place his free hand on top of mine. Again, those butterflies were fluttering in my tummy, and they were sending tickles to my spine.

  “I’m glad you agreed to have a drink with me,” Anthony said, moving his fingers over the back of my hand. It was a soft, simple touch, but it drove me wild.

  I searched my mind for something to say, but couldn’t come up with fitting words. Instead, I smiled, and my smile spoke volumes. Anthony smiled back at me, and it became painfully obvious, to both of us, that the chemistry we shared could no longer be ignored.

  The barmaid returned with our bill, but not even her presence could cut the thick air between Anthony and me. The tension was great, and it was mounting. I felt my heart racing and a pulsing between my legs as Anthony paid and tipped her.

  “How are you getting home?” Anthony asked.

  “I drove,” I replied. There was a lump in my throat, and I had to swallow hard before I could let those words out.

  “Well then, please let me walk you to your car,” he said, squeezing my hand.

  “Okay,” I said, batting my eyelashes and trying to look as innocent and vulnerable as I could. I remembered what he’d said earlier about damsels in distress and figured, with what time was left, I might as well play the part.

  Anthony stood first and, like a true gentleman, helped me down from my stool. We walked out of the tavern and into the cool night air. I hadn’t looked at a clock for a while but knew it had to be after 7. My parents were going to kill me for not calling, at least, but at that moment, I didn’t really care.

  Anthony and I strolled, rather than walked, to my car. It was not even two blocks away, and I’d made him aware of that fact, but we both wanted to stretch out our time together as much as we could.

  Once we were at my car, we stopped at the passenger’s side, and Anthony took both of my hands into his. “I don’t want this night to end,” he said.

  “I don’t, either,” I replied instantly. “But it has to. I have to go home—and I’m sure you have somewhere you need to be, too.”

  “I do,” Anthony responded. “I actually have to go back to work. I shouldn’t have been out this long, either. I only went to the dessert shop to get some snacks for everyone. We’re having an all-nighter, and I should have been back hours ago. But once I saw you, I forgot about all of that.”

  Anthony’s eyes sparkled like stars in the night, and I was easily lost in them. Without so much as another word, he leaned forward and kissed me gently on the lips. Before he could pull away, I kissed him again, and my gesture spurred him even more. His tongue slowly slid from his mouth into mine, and the next thing I knew, my back was pressed against my car. We were kissing passionately and intensely, though there was nothing vulgar and crude about it. It was quite beautiful, in fact, and I can’t remember having ever been kissed like that before.

  I felt Anthony’s hard cock digging into me, and I wanted him to take me, right then and there. He, however, had more common sense and composure. He pulled his face back a bit, looked at me, and sighed.

  “I need to see you again sometime,” he whimpered—and as he whimpered, something inside of me cried. I knew there was no way I could date this man. He was so much older than me, and there was no way my parents would approve.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I replied. As soon as I said those words, I wished I hadn’t, despite how true they were.

  Anthony simply nodded and gazed up at the sky. Our bodies were still very close, and I could still feel his manhood against me. He was still hard, and I still wanted him.

  “Forgive me,” Anthony said. “This may sound really crass…but I have to have you. We both have places we need to be, but we both want this. You said it’s not a good idea to see each other again, and maybe it’s not. But let’s just spend a little more time together.”

  Anthony turned his gaze away from my face and peered off to his left. I looked in the direction he was looking and saw a familiar sign, fronting one of the establishments that was a longstanding staple in this neighborhood.

  Again, I knew what I should have said at this point, but, instead, I found myself not saying it.

  “Just a little more time,” I replied. “But let me make a phone call first.”

  Chapter 15

  Hey Mom, I swiped on my phone. Ran into some high school friends while applying for jobs. Went out for dinner and am running late. Should be home in a couple of hours. XOXO

  I ended up texting Mom because I’d tried calling first without getting an answer. I also received no answer when I called the house phone, and when I tried to call Dad. So, texting was my best option at that point, and Mom was the one to text, as she’d be the one who was more concerned.

  Once I hit “send,” I didn’t even wait for Mom to reply before shutting my phone and walking down the street toward Cove Inn, the longstanding neighborhood staple with the familiar sign. Obviously, it was a hotel, and Anthony had gone down ahead of me to procure a room. We’d arranged to meet outside in a few minutes, after he took care of his business and I took care of mine.

  As I walked down the street, I realized that this was my chance to turn back, if I wanted to…but I didn’t want to. I wanted to go exactly where I was going, and there was nothing that could take me off course—not even the doubts and second thoughts I was having. And, trust me, I was having them.

  I knew it was never a good idea to hook up with someone you just met, and I knew it wasn’t a good idea to hook up with someone you never intended to see again. The risks and dangers were numerous, and I could have spent hours debating them in my head. But none of those things mattered as much to me as the other thoughts I was having.

  I was very attracted to Anthony. I was 22. I’d always been a “good girl.” I’d never had a one-night stand or booty call before. Now was my time to do something wild, to perform an indiscretion and see what sex for sex’s sake was like.

  I picked up my pace and made it to Cove Inn in what had to be record time. Anthony wasn’t outside yet, so I figured he was still inside booking the room. I stood by the door for what felt like forever, though it was probably only two minutes. After another minute—or another eternity, depending on how you look at it—I decided to go around to the back entrance of the hotel, just in case Anthony was waiting there. There was also a parking lot around the back, and I figured I scope that out, too, in case he’d moved his car while I was trying to call home.

  When I got to the rear of the hotel, Anthony was nowhere to be found. I must have circled the lot three times looking for him, even though I had no idea what kind of car he drove. I guess I was just looking to see if he was waiting in or by a vehicle—not that it mattered, though, ‘cause he wasn’t.

  I went back to the front of the hotel, thinking he might have finished booking the room and stepped out while I was circling the lot. But, no, he wasn’t there, either.

  I tried to peek into the hotel from the outside, staring through the door and windows at different angles. From what I could see, there was no one except staff in the lobby, and I knew better than to go in and ask any questions. I didn’t even know Anthony’s last name. So, what would I have said? What was I supposed to do, go up to the front desk and ask if a handsome older guy—whose full name I did not know—had just booked a room? If that didn’t scream “hooker” or “slut,” I didn’t know what else did.

  I probably stood outside of Cove Inn for ten more minutes before the harsh reality set in…Anthony wasn’t there. He, too, must have had second thoughts. I felt like a fool. Even if he had a valid excuse, like a call from work demanding that he return, he could have at least stuck around to explain things to me. As charming as he’d been earlier, he’d just proven himself to be an ass…or a dick…or a pussy…or whatever offensive part of the anatomy you want to use.

  Oddly enough, however, I felt a great sense of relief as I walked away fr
om Cove Inn. I’d avoided an indiscretion I might later criticize myself for, and I’d avoided an encounter with a man who ended up being an ass. It might have hurt at the moment, but it was probably a good thing in the long run.

  Still, as I made my way back to my car, I kept looking for Anthony and waiting for him to show up, explain himself to me, and take me back to the hotel. I even sat in my car for a few minutes before pulling out and driving home, crestfallen and feeling like a failure again. Only a week ago, I couldn’t even give London a hard-on, and now I couldn’t even get an old guy to bang me.

  The drive back to my house was a long, tortuous one. I spent it reprising myself and swearing off men. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t giving up men forever or metamorphosing into a lesbian, but I vowed to take things slow from now on. I promised myself that I wouldn’t get myself in a position like this again, and that I’d only give myself to someone when he proved himself worthy, which would take more than an hour of game play, a martini, and a free pen.

  When I finally got home, Mom’s car was in the driveway, but Dad’s wasn’t there. Only a few lights were on in the house, and I could hear music playing as I approached the back door. I found Mom curled up, sleeping on the sofa, with an open bottle of wine beside her. I took advantage of the situation and went straight to my room. Naturally, I didn’t want to wake her and deal with the endless questions that would ensue.

  As soon as I got to my room, I threw myself onto the bed and buried my face in my pillow. I cried for a few minutes, then reminded myself of the promises I’d made in the car. I wouldn’t let any man—whether he was young and hot like London, or older, charming, and sophisticated like Anthony—make me cry like this again.

  Chapter 16

  “Good morning, sunshine!” Mom exclaimed when I walked into the kitchen the next morning. I had to do a double-take. It was almost 10 a.m., and it was a Friday. Mom was supposed to be at work, and I wondered what she was doing home.

  “I took today off,” she added, detecting my confusion. “The party’s next week, and there are some things I have to finalize today. I was hoping you would help me.”

  Normally, I would have cringed at the thought. It’s not that I didn’t like spending time with Mom, but party planning and party-related chores really weren’t my thing. But considering everything that had happened over the last week, from my failures at finding a job to my failures at love, I really needed the distraction and eagerly agreed.

  Mom was shocked, but very pleased, that I so readily agreed. And just like I’d taken advantage of her sleeping state the night before, she went on to take advantage of my willingness to be her assistant. I not only helped her that day, but helped her over the weekend and took on some additional tasks in the week that followed.

  Really, it all ended up working in both of our favors. She had a little gopher girl who could take care of things while she worked, and I had a distraction, as well as an excuse to pause my job hunt and get her off of my back about it.

  I ran into London a few times while doing things for Mom. It was weird, but he was very nice. He even tried to cash in his “rain check” from our earlier encounter, but I told him I was too busy.

  I didn’t leave the house much during those days, so I didn’t have to worry about running into Anthony—though, of course, I thought about him from time to time. I still wondered what happened to him that night and kept asking the universe to tell me why he hadn’t shown up outside as planned.

  They say that time flies when you’re having fun—and I’ve said it before myself—but time flies even faster when you’re under the gun. Helping Mom prepare for the party was hard work, and it kept me very busy—so busy that, by the time the day of the party arrived, I couldn’t believe it was upon us.

  The party was slated for Saturday evening, but Mom and I started getting ready much earlier in the day. She’d made hair appointments for us both at a high-end salon, followed by a manicure at a nearby spa. It was very nice to be pampered, and it felt like a well-earned reward.

  Mom had ordered a dress for me from a boutique, and we picked it up on our way home from our beauty appointment. I wanted desperately to peek into the garment bag, but she slapped my hand when I tried. My dress must have also been a well-earned reward, and I wasn’t allowed to claim it until we got home.

  Once we arrived back at the house, there were a few last-minute things we had to tend to before I was given my garment bag and told to get dressed. When I went to my room and opened the bag, I saw why Mom had held out and kept it a surprise. The dress was lovely—young and fun, but tasteful—and was probably the most fashionable and expensive piece of clothing I’d ever owned. When I slid it on my body, it felt like I was putting on a glove. It fit perfectly and flattered my every curve.

  “It’s almost 6,” Mom shouted from the hallway. “Finish up. Our guests will be arriving soon.” I don’t know if she was talking to me, Dad, or both of us, but her instructions didn’t faze me all that much. It wasn’t my party, after all, and as fashionable as I looked, I had every right to be fashionably late.

  I was still in my room putting final touches on my face and hair when I heard the doorbell ring. Next I heard the boom of a few different voices. Not even two minutes later, the doorbell rang again, and more voices filled the house. I decided that enough was enough, and it was time to make my debut.

  I walked down the steps, into the living room. There were about a dozen people there, including my parents, though I only recognized a few. Mom immediately came over, grabbed my hand, and took me around the room, introducing me to one small crowd after another.

  The guests continued to arrive, and Mom continued to flutter around the room, frequently taking me with her. She introduced me to people I’d never met before, and reminded me of those I might have forgotten over the years. She was showing me off a little, and surprisingly, it made me feel good. Obviously, she must have thought highly of me to keep shoving me in her guests’ faces, and who doesn’t want their mama to think highly of them?

  About an hour into the party, the doorbell stopped ringing so much. There were probably around four dozen other people in our house, and they represented most of the guest list. Mom was a little upset that some of her friends didn’t bring their eligible young sons, but she really tried to push me on those who had.

  I was polite and cordial to everyone Mom introduced me to, but hell no, I wanted nothing to do with their sons. I’d made too many promises to myself about men, and didn’t want to deal with dating for a while.

  Not that any of them were my type, anyway. One was a total meathead jock who probably couldn’t even multiple single digits with a pen and paper in his hands. Another was a computer nerd who likely weighed less than I did, and another looked crazy, like he was one murder or serial rape away from ending up on the “most wanted criminals” list.

  The hottest guy at the party, by far, was London—and even though I still felt slighted by him, he was also, by far, the best person for me to talk to, and when Mom saw us conversing, she finally stopped traipsing me around and went off on her own.

  London and I started out by exchanging some vacant pleasantries. He asked how my job hunt was going and told me about some ridiculous partying escapades with his friends. Believe it or not, after a few minutes of chitchat, I felt more comfortable with him and was able to put our strange sexual encounter behind us. It was evident that he was willing to move on, and it was time that I move on, too. I couldn’t have a 21-year-old be more mature than me.

  We continued talking for a while, then London suggested we grab a bottle of booze, sneak off, and do some shots. I hadn’t had a drink all night but sure needed one, so I smiled and told him, “Hell yeah.”

  Like a professional thief, London inconspicuously swiped a bottle of Jack Daniels from the bar, and we went out through the kitchen, to the backyard, where we passed the bottle back and forth, taking swigs. I couldn’t handle my liquor like London could handle his, so I stopped after
four shots, but London kept going and downed about four more.

  As the buzz swept over my body, I felt more confident and social, and decided to go back into the house before Mom noticed I was gone.

  The moment I stepped into the kitchen, Mom hissed at me. “Kirby! Where have you been?” she asked, making her whisper sound like a roar. “I’ve been looking all over for you…. Your dad’s boss is here, and you have to come meet him. He’s a big deal, you know—a billionaire—and we didn’t even think he’d come. If you play your cards right, you might make a good impression on him, and you might end up landing a real job at his firm.”

  Maybe it was the booze taking control of me, but as soon as I heard that Mr. Swift was there, my first impulse was to go and slap the man. He was the reason I didn’t get to hang out with Dad when I first got home, and the reason I didn’t get to eat Henry’s with him the next night. But that was just the tip of the iceberg. He’d been doing this kind of stuff to Dad—and me—for years.

  Of course, I wasn’t actually going to slap him, but I wasn’t gonna suck up to him, either—and I certainly didn’t want to do anything so impressive that it’d land me a job at his firm. I didn’t want my life to become all work and no play like Dad’s was, at least not at 22.

  Nonetheless, I obliged Mom’s instructions and followed her into the living room. She led me across a sea of people until we were standing behind a well-built man with salt-and-pepper hair.

  “Mr. Swift,” Mom said, tapping him on the shoulder. “I’d like you to meet my daughter.”

  Mr. Swift turned around, and I instantly recognized those dark blue eyes.

  “Kirby,” Mom went on. “This is your father’s boss, Anthony Swift.”

  “Kirby?” he asked. “What an unusual name.”

  My heart skipped a beat, then sank to the bottom of my stomach. No matter the outcome, I knew I was in for one hell of a night.