This is so pathetic, Gracie.
I exhaled a sigh and bagged both dresses—the black and the white. I needed a consult with Sarah. I emptied two clear plastic shoe boxes and called George Salon to confirm his and her waxing appointments.
“Would it be possible to sneak in a couples massage?” While I waited for an answer, I packed shoes, hose and underthings for two dresses. “Great, thank you.”
The naughty girl side of me grinned.
The massage added a sensual touch. An intimate experience that would linger through the dinner party.
It was going to be a high-octane day, the kind with lots of electricity in the air. My creative muse had arrived—buzzing with ideas for the Héros campaign and perfectly timed. Sarah and I had a full day of concept work scheduled.
I’m not sure I inhaled or exhaled properly until I hung the dress bag from a hook in the taxi. I was going to meet Bradley’s mother. Not the least bit intimidating and perfectly natural. So why all the butterflies?
I mulled over hairstyle. Should I have George smooth my hair and fashion a stylish, messy bun? Maybe. I dialed the salon for the second time this morning and thought about how many women counted on their insanely awesome hours. They so understood the needs of the modern working woman. Bad hair day? Stop by George for a quick fix before the big presentation. Last-minute date? No problem, Ms. Hotness.
“Hi—Gracie again. I’d like to add makeup and hair after waxing and massage.”
“George is booked, but Tyler is available.”
“How is he at taming impossible-to-tame curly hair? Something smooth in a messy bun?” I chewed on my lip.
“Let’s go ahead and book you. George will supervise.”
“Thanks.” I breathed a sigh of relief as the cab slowed. To almost everyone else at DWD, this was an ordinary workday. And ordinary-ness was exactly what I needed.
Fuck, Gracie, get to work!
Sarah entered the conference room lugging her Ed Hardy messenger bag covered in a tattoo pattern of skulls, roses and hearts. “FYI, the entire agency is whispering about the cuts and bruises on Bradley and Derek. Rumors abound as to who inspired the fight.”
I frowned. “Let me guess, Gracie Taylor-Scott?”
“Ups your hot babe creds.” Sarah slouched into a beanbag chair and opened her graphics tablet.
“I need wardrobe advice. I’ve been invited to Bradley’s mother’s dinner party.”
She nodded. “Contemporary demure, but not ingénue.”
“Exactly. I packed two dresses—the Jackie-O and the Tibi quilted satin—” I dug for my phone and plugged it into the conference room charger.
Sarah thought about the two dresses. “The Tibi might be too edgy. What color is the Jackie-O?”
“White—with a thin silver belt.”
“Shoes?”
I hesitated. “Neutral, Jimmy Choo, with thin silver and black ankle straps. ”
“Why are you looking like that?”
She grinned. “I’ve taught you so well.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “I guess I’m nervous.”
“How long have you two known each other?” Sarah shook her head. “It’s been like two weeks and you’re invited over for dinner with Mom?”
I settled into a beanbag close by. “It’s called relationship at light speed.”
“Ever worry that you’re moving too fast?”
“Not really, no time.” I powered up my laptop and sighed. “Not true. I worry that it’s too fast, too perfect. All the little insecure voices are there, only…” I shook my head. “This feels different—really different.”
I bit my lower lip. “Can we change the subject? I don’t want to overanalyze and jinx it.”
Sarah got out her stylus. “Okay, what have you got?”
I squinted at the file on my desktop. “A couple of ideas for Héros. The first one is a play off the concept of Héros/hero, only I was thinking everyday hero. No firemen, cowboys, Navy SEALs.”
Sarah nodded. “Too cliché. So, our hero would be?”
“Picture a fairly hot, thirty-something guy—not Liam Hemsworth hot, but nice.”
“More Ben Affleck pushing-the-baby-stroller-hot.”
I grinned. “Exactly the right demographic. I’m thinking we start out PG and move to R.” I scribbled a note to myself. “So the brand promise is—career, marriage, kids—and the sex is still great.”
“Humor, warmth, with an unexpected sexy edge.” Sarah looked up from her tablet. “Got any lines?”
I nodded. “We open with a shot of our sexy, but attainable guy as he exits a commuter train—or maybe he’s stuck in traffic on the freeway. Female voice over: ‘My hero rides into battle every day.’”
Sarah started sketching.
“He leaps tall buildings…flies through the sky…” As I tossed out lines, Sarah added visuals.
“Crowded elevator?” She offered. “Or maybe he’s taking out the trash? We shoot low angle so it looks like a jump shot—like he’s flying.”
“I’m still working on the line, but something like, ‘and he always makes time for a damsel in distress…’”
Sarah grinned. “He could kiss a boo-boo on his young daughter—too cute?”
I shook my head. “Shot right, women will love it. I need a transition line. Something that gets him into the shower.”
“Where…” Sarah sat up straight. “We cut to a series of close-ups. A hint of muscular thigh, great torso. He exits the shower, towel around his hips. ‘Hey baby, long day?’” Sarah used her croony-whispery voice.
I stared at her. “Wow—would that work? Our female VO suddenly makes sexy talk with our hero. Let me think about that one.”
Sarah wrapped up the spot. “Super the Héros product shot. Glycerin droplets on cool packaging. We cut to a steamy, I’m going to jump your bones look from him.”
“Tagline: Clean dick, more head.” The look I got from Sarah made me laugh out loud. “You know Mark and Derek are going to use that line for real or die trying.”
“What else have you got?” Sarah scribbled some notes on her tablet.
“I keep thinking about Héros being a wake-up call for intimacy—–not just sex.” I set up the opening scene. “It’s Sunday afternoon. An attractive couple in bed, lazing around on top of the duvet. They’ve just showered, so they’re dressed sexy-casual.”
Sarah added wardrobe touches. “She’s in boy shorts and a ribbed tank. He’s bare-chested, wearing loose sweatpants. Nice torso with those groin muscles—the ones that lower a smart girl’s I.Q. twenty points.”
I snorted a laugh. “He’s propped a few pillows behind him, doing some work on his laptop. She’s checking out the sale ads in the Sunday paper. Game’s on the TV.”
“No music—just sound design.” Sarah looked enthused. “Very European. Lots of sexual tension. We enhance the ambient sound effects—viewers become voyeurs. We hear the game on low. The quiet tap of laptop keys. She turns a page of the newspaper.”
I nodded. “Camera moves closer. We cut back and forth between his and her body parts. His abs, a slow pan of her bare leg, a glimpse of flexing bicep muscle.”
I thought about last Sunday, and the way Bradley had looked at me. “He glances up. Cut to an extreme close-up of his eyes. She peeks over the edge of her newspaper. Cut to him. He checks her out again—maybe that’s where we use the move up her leg. He does a subtle double take.”
Sarah was off and running. “Cut back to her, doing a sexy lip-biting thing. Cut to him. This time his gaze stays with her. He closes his laptop, sets the computer aside.”
I’m just as caught up in the creative moment. “Her eyes slant and sweep over to hold on him. Fade to black. The rustle of sheets, sexy-soft laughter.”
“Fade to white. Sex in the afternoon deserves a fade to white.” Sarah scribbled notes to herself. “And it’s clean, like body wash.” She smiled. “Wow—smexy.”
I nodded. “Fits the brand.” I thought a momen
t. “Maybe we back up a bit and start in the shower.”
Sarah sat up straight. “Subtle close-ups of body wash, body parts. We infer that our couple is showering together, but we never pull back far enough to get censored.”
“Maybe a shot of his hand washing her back?”
She nodded. “The only time they actually touch physically in the entire spot.”
I grinned. “I’ve been secretly shooting video of Bradley. Shots of him working on his laptop—shirtless. There’re a few seconds of him yelling at the game on TV, and…” My devilish grin widened. “In the shower.”
“Get out.” Sarah held out her hand. “Let me see.”
I unplugged my phone and selected a snippet of close-up footage. Body wash streamed down Bradley’s back and over a curve of buttock muscle.
She played it back again. “Jeezus, Gracie, he’s great looking.” She looked up smiling ear to ear. “I think we can pull this off.”
I played her some of the other footage.
“We need to go to your flat and shoot you, from Bradley’s POV.”
My eyes narrowed, slightly. “This is for internal presentation only.”
She nodded. “We’ll have to get Bradley’s okay. I can always rip shower footage from another spot. As long as he doesn’t freak out, we can use the rough cut for testing.”
Obviously enthused, she scribbled more notes to herself. “Derek and Mark are working on something called The Smell Test. They want to shoot man-on-the-street interviews using male models who have just showered with Héros.
I nodded. “Those could be so great. I was thinking they should prepare a Smell Test Live at the Super Bowl. Maybe throw a brand-sponsored tailgate party. We could run the spots live on the Jumbotron.”
Sarah leaped out of her beanbag chair. “I’ve got our street.”
“What?”
“Censored Héros shower scene outtakes on YouTube.” Street teams get the rumors started on Twitter at half-time…”
“A few snippets show up on Facebook after the game.” I leaned forward. “Viral by midnight.”
Sarah’s grin reached ear to ear. “We’re going to win this business. I can feel it in my bones.”
We took a brief break and had the Kimchi Taco truck lunch special. On our way back up, we ran into Bradley and Axel in the lobby.
“Please tell me they’ve got barbecue beef left.”
Crazy-starved for the spicy tacos, Axel headed straight for the doors. Like most New Yorkers, he considered himself a food truck connoisseur.
Bradley hung back. “Fish tacos, now Korean. I had no idea the simple unassuming tortilla was so versatile.” He chased after Axel who was already curbside.
Bradley and I had continued to play it business-casual at work, even though just about everyone knew we were dating. So it surprised me when he turned back to confirm a time.
“Meet you here, four fifteen sharp.”
Bekka, the girl behind the reception desk at George, had a few questions. “I have you both down for a waxing, followed by a couples massage. Is that right?”
I nodded a little numbly. I had forgotten to tell Bradley about the massage.
He pivoted and I flashed a lopsided, goofy grin.
He quickly returned to Bekka. “Looking forward to it.”
The sassy receptionist continued to eyeball Bradley. What red-blooded girl wouldn’t? He was gorgeous. “And what are we waxing today?”
“Back, crack and sac.”
She checked off several boxes. “Chest and pubes groomed?”
I detected a faint quirk to one side of his mouth. “Why not?”
She turned to me. “Nice to see you, Ms. Taylor-Scott.” She squinted at the scribbled entry in the appointment book. “Wow. You’re getting the works. Brows, full body wax—underarms, legs, Brazilian. A one-hour couples massage. And you’re with Tyler and Martin for hair and make-up.” She looked up from the list and smiled.
My mental calculator totaled up over five hundred dollars of instant beauty. Worth every penny.
“I gifted my husband with a couples massage for our second anniversary.” She handed both tickets to an attractive young man who greeted us. “Jeffery will show you to the changing rooms. Enjoy!”
Before we separated, I handed Bradley a naproxen tablet. “Take one of these—you’ll thank me in another fifteen minutes.”
I had Ingrid for the waxing, and even though she was an awesome waxer, I definitely felt the burn. I found Bradley in the meditation lounge, in terry robe and slippers, reading the Wall Street Journal.
“How are your balls?” I winced a little as I sat down beside him.
“Red, sore.” He lowered the paper. “And how is pussy?”
“Red, sore.” I snuggled up against him and he kissed my head. “Which is why I so wisely booked a couples massage.”
His pained chuckle made me grin. “I get it now. You’re torturing me.”
“Maybe I want to see you receive pleasure.”
His look was at best, incredulous. “You like to watch?”
I sighed innocently. “Maybe…we can experience pleasure together, even though we’re not touching.”
His gaze narrowed slightly. “What are you up to, Gracie?”
“Maybe…” I grinned—now I really was taunting him. My third maybe appeared to drive him wild. He put down the paper and reached for me. “Maybe I forgot to mention your après waxing reward.”
Bradley loosened my robe and peeked. “And what might that be?”
“There’s a soothing, herbal steam shower after the massage.” I slanted a sexy gaze his way. “So, we can relieve each other properly.”
He looked up from my breasts. “There will be nothing proper about it.”
“Mr. Craig? Ms. Taylor-Scott?”
A masseur and masseuse stood at the entrance to spa. Attired in tunic and pants, our his and her massage therapists were attractive and professional looking.
“If you would come this way, please?” The female gestured toward the door behind them.
The divider between two massage rooms had been folded back, and two tables were arranged side by side. Asked to select an aromatherapy scent that pleased us both, we agreed on Beach House No. 9—sea breeze, saltwater and pine needles—refreshing and soothing.
Alex stood beside one of the tables.
“Girl, boy. Girl, girl? Or boy, boy?” His gaze moved between us. “Any preferences?”
Bradley’s shrug was pretty cute.
I smiled at Alex. “How about girl, boy?
He folded back a sheet. “We encourage our couples to look at each other and speak to one another, but we ask that you let us do the physical contact, for now.”
Lauren approached Bradley. “Do you want us to cover you, or are you both comfortable without the sheet? We’ll be working the gluteal muscles, so you’re going to be exposed top or bottom during the massage.”
“No sheet would be my preference.” Bradley leaned close. “After you, darling.”
I slipped out of my robe, and his eyes drank me in. His gaze quickly moved to my raw, hairless labia.
“Aww baby…” He whispered, cupping me gently between the legs.
I untied his robe and took a look. Even semi-hard he was impressive.
Alex helped me onto the table. “On your stomach, head turned toward your partner.”
Laurel spread warm massage lotion over Bradley’s shoulders and back, all the way down to his buttocks. Simultaneously, Alex lightly massaged my body, warming the muscles.
“We use a combination of Ayurvedic and Swedish massage. And we begin by tracing the spinal humors, using compression.” Alex spoke softly.
Laurel lay her hand between Bradley’s shoulder blades and rotated her palm, working her way down his back. Alex likewise, moved his hands down my spine. “When we find a knot, we go deeper.”
As our massage began in earnest, Laurel dimmed the lights and turned on something that sounded more like atmosphere than mus
ic. Bradley groaned when she worked the tight knots around his neck and shoulders. I added a few moans of my own as the lotion warmed and Alex worked lower, kneading buttocks, hamstrings, calf muscles.
Eventually, they turned us over. The frontal massage felt more vulnerable and naughty. Alex stood above me, sandy brown hair, pale-blue eyes—his smile measured, but reassuring.
“Have you had breast augmentation?”
I shook my head.
“Do I have permission to massage your breasts?”
Bradley’s gaze narrowed on Alex.
“Massage therapy can be a very effective wellness treatment for breasts, as breasts need good circulation and what is called tissue mobilization for optimum health. Gentle breast massage reduces breast soreness due to hormonal fluctuations, it also helps to relieve toxin buildup and encourages blood circulation for a healthy lymphatic system.”
I made a point of checking in with Bradley, who gave me a thumbs up.
“I suppose, it would be all right.”
“I will begin at the clavicle and axial area around your arm, then the lymph nodes, here at the sides.” He massaged the outside curve of each breast. “This encourages toxins and any excess fluid to drain.” He gently moved his fingers over and under each mound—cupping, then rotating each breast, as he worked the toxins and fluid in the direction of the lymph nodes.
I reached out to the gorgeous man lying beside me and he squeezed my hand. Something darkly sensuous, and wonderfully intimate was happening between the four of us. It was as if Alex’s hands were Bradley’s hands. I sucked in a breath and arched my back.
Bradley groaned as practiced fingers swept over the curves of my ribcage, and pressed into the soft pockets above my hip bones. A tsunami of naughty erotic thoughts sent imaginary fingers to every erogenous zone. I wanted to feel Alex explore. And I wanted Laurel to hold Bradley’s cock in her hand.
I exhaled a frustrated sigh and winked at Bradley. The look he returned made my belly flutter.
“Take a five-minute nap.” Laurel dimmed the lights even darker as she and Alex slipped out the door.
“Moneypenny?”
“Yes, Mr. Craig?”
The Do It List (The Do It List #1) Page 19
