by P. R. Paige
God I hate him!
I just wish I didn't love him so much.
One thing is certain. My talk with Rome has killed my fire. With that thought in mind, I breathe easily, droplets of tears in my eyes, as this is my last night in the House of Rome.
Episode Eighteen
The alarm sounds on Rome's phone at a quarter to two the next day, and as planned, we all rise and prepare to visit the twenty-hour ice cream parlor. On my long list of things I never thought I would do, visiting an ice cream parlor at two in the morning can now be added to that list.
It's been a short rest for me as I just closed my eyes less than three hours ago after being heinously denied sex by Rome. But I'm over that now. Maybe. The way I see it, there's nothing but good times ahead for me, and Rome will not be a part of any of it. I am reminded of a positive piece of advice from my favorite author, the late Susan Jeffers: Seek out the good in all of life's situations. Of course, that advice, like many things in life, is easier to say than actually do. But in this instance, I do just that. The good news is: I am no longer in heat, and that is a great thing.
Parking is scarce when we arrive at Paradise Ice Cream.
We circle the lot over and over in search of a space. The song Happy by Pharrell Williams is blasting from the parking lot speakers as we pull into one of the few remaining spots available. To say this place is jam-packed is an understatement. To say that every news organization in town is covering this new venue would be stretching it, but to say how completely psyched I am to be here would be absolutely correct, psyched enough to forget how Rome denied me just so few hours ago, but that's another story for another time.
Before going inside, we add our name to the lengthy waiting list and soon learn that the ice cream cannot be taken to go, but must instead be consumed entirely in-house. That's strange, but so is the four of us so eager for a new thrill that we wake ourselves from a restful or maybe not so restful sleep at 2:00 a.m.
After a thirty-five-minute wait, we are invited into Paradise Ice Cream by the beautiful redhead hostess.
Is it just a coincidence that the color schemes in this arena are an energetic orange and white?
Or does it mean that I have come to the right place?
This enormous warehouse-like venue is nothing like a typical tiny ice cream shop. Oh, no! This parlor is rich with the fruity aromas of strawberries and lemons, priming me for a good time.
Several tall barrels of large oranges populate the parlor with a warm flavor, security guards are everywhere, and there isn't an empty table in sight.
My stomach soon plunges when my eyes drop and I soak up a view of the floor. I am standing atop of a see-through glass floor with bubbling bright orange water underneath. The only thing that I can compare it to is standing on top of a six-foot swimming pool. Though breath-taking, it's also quite unnerving.
The second two things to blow my mind are the see-through glass ceiling and the tangerine orange tables and chairs. There is something about orange that just makes me feel so alive.
The pretty redhead hostess, whose young face is peppered with adorning freckles is dressed in an eye-popping orange body suit and orange mini skirt. She escorts us to our circular table and we all take a seat in the pillow soft semi-reclining chairs. The setup is the same as at home. Rome is positioned between Storm and India and I, as always, am smack dab on the end next to Storm.
I don't waste much time making myself comfortable in the amazing-never-want-to-get-up chair and soak up the eclectic ambiance of this place.
This is feel-good central.
Everything about this place surprises me, but nothing as much as seeing that the menu for the ice cream is inscribed right on the table.
Paradise Ice Cream, where it's not just good, it's sexually exciting!
We dare you to try our ice cream. We dare you!
Our Signature Flavors
Orgasmic Banana
Poison Vanilla
By the Scoop – $50
By the Pint – $100
By the Gallon – $300
African Coconut
Bohemian Nut Raisin
British Cookie Crumbs
Canadian Cheesecake
Cuban Coffee
Dutch Caramel
Irish Lemon
Italian Chocolate
Korean Peach
Mexican Strawberry
Paradise Ice Cream, Inc.
Proprietor, Winter Green
Come in clean, leave dirty!
The pretty redhead hostess who doubles as a server steps to our table, holding an iPad in hand. "Good morning, beautiful people," she says warmly.
We all return her lively greeting.
My eyes are immediately centered on her bright orange apron which reads: I Can Make You Happy. She is saturated with a sparkling scent of pure lemons, and I like it so much, I move in closer so that I can smell more of it.
"I'm Monti," she says, extending her hand to all of us.
"Thursday."
"Storm."
"Rome."
"India."
"It's a treat to meet all of you," Monti says, her lively smile energizing all of us. "Are you feeling good this morning?" she asks us. I'm thinking good morning? Then I realize that it is after three in the morning, so technically, it is morning time.
"We're all feeling pretty good," Rome says, glancing over at us.
"Pretty good?" she questions. She obviously does not like our answer. "How would you like to feel fantastic?"
I am first to answer with my head lifted high. "We would love that."
"Is that something that you can help us with," Storm asks her as she meticulously coats her lips with lip gloss.
"Most certainly," she says, leaning in towards us. "I'll put it to you like this." Monti then pauses and checks her surroundings. She glances to her left, and then to her right before returning her focus to us. "I'm not supposed to tell you this, but you all look like awesome people."
Monti then fetches a chair from the next table and joins us.
If her intention was to stimulate our curiosity, she has masterfully succeeded. We lean in towards her, eager for her to continue.
"All of our ice creams are good," Monti says, "but there's one in particular that will have you singing praises to your maker. And that flavor is… orgasmic banana."
"Really?" I ask her, wondering if what she is saying is actually true, and boy, do I hope that it is.
Her eyes pivot to me… then Storm… then Rome… then India. "You guys want to play or not?" Monti asks us as if she's referencing some casino game.
For a moment, no one says a word, more than likely, too much in awe to speak. We all exchange looks with each other, giving the secret eye of approval.
"We definitely want to play," India says.
"Will you actually have an orgasm?" I ask Monti.
"I'll let you tell me," Monti replies. Her face is a stone wall, serious as a heart attack, and I have a feeling that she knows what she is talking about.
"I think I speak for all of us when I say this," Rome says, "Where do we sign up?"
"That's my boy." Monti says. "I'll return with four."
"I like her," Storm says.
"What's not to like?" India agrees.
"Are we really going to pay $50 for a scoop of ice cream?" I ask. "I mean that's $200."
I understand that Rome is a wealthy man, but $200 for ice cream is a lot of money.
Storm's eyes shift to me. She reaches over and touches my hand. "Thursday, how do I say this?" Storm peers into my eyes. "Yes, we're going to pay $200."
"Don't be so concerned about money," India says to me, leaning back into her chair.
And on that note, I don't say another word.
"Hey, did India tell you she has a new job?" Rome asks all of us.
"Like that's a real job," Storm says in a sour tone.
"No, I didn't know," I say.
"You didn't know," Storm says with a giggle.
"India has a job walking dogs."
"That's… interesting," I say to India. "I didn't even know you were looking for a job."
"I wasn't. It sort of fell into my lap."
These girls are just full of surprises. I cannot imagine what the next bombshell on the horizon will be.
"I think it's a fine job," Rome says to India, leaning over and kissing her hand.
"Thank you," India says to Rome, then directs her attention to Storm. "And as for you," India points her finger at Storm. "If I say it's a real job, then it's a real job."
I'm not the only one tickled by India's last statement. It's obvious that a volcano of belly laughs is about erupt from Storm and India as they squirm in their chairs, staring at each other before they both explode with giggles.
India finally regains her composure and says to Storm, "I know it's not a real job, "but what's important is that I am contributing to society."
Again, Storm and India burst into laughter. Obviously, not even India believes her own words.
"You two should have your own TV show," Rome says.
"I agree," I say. "We could call it The Funny Lives of India and Storm."
While we patiently await our $50 a scoop ice cream, Storm surfs the web on her Samsung Smartphone, and India, Rome and I breathe easy in our semi-reclining chairs, consuming the mellow atmosphere. I would like to take a quick stroll and see more of this huge factory-like dwelling, but the see-through glass floors with bubbling water underneath terrifies me, and I stay put.
"I almost forgot," Storm says, bursting with enthusiasm. "If ever there is anyone trying to choke you, just move your head to the left and to the right and it will break their grip."
"And you are telling us this why?" India asks Storm.
"Because. I saw this special on the Dr. Phil Show the other day. It could come in handy one day."
Rome chuckles. "Thursday, in case you haven't already figured it out, both Storm and India are nuts."
"Why do I have to be a nut?" Storm asks Rome, smiling and seemingly entertained by his words.
"Because you are." Rome leans over and smooches Storm's lips.
I am not completely comfortable with Rome kissing other women in front of me, but each time he does it, it becomes a little more bearable.
"Well, maybe I am a little nutty sometimes," Storm says with a laugh.
"Don't you worry, Thursday," India says. "Eventually our nuttiness will rub off on you as well."
"Maybe it already has."
Soon our server Monti returns to our table. With her, she brings a platter carrying four giant orange bowls of ice cream with matching orange spoons.
"Okay, beautiful people." Monti sets the bowls in front of us, and we all ease forward, eyes widened, ready to indulge ourselves.
"Orgasmic banana for four," Monti says.
"Thank you," Rome says.
"Now, before you get started on this wild ride that's about to come, I need to ask a favor." Monti plucks her business card from her pocket and stuffs it into Rome's hand. "I'm going to sneak off and take a 15-minute nap. Will you call me in fifteen minutes and wake me?"
"Sure," Rome says with some hesitation.
"I would ask my boss to do it, but she'll fire me if she finds out that I'm still taking naps on the job."
"No problem, Monti," I say. "We'll take care of you."
"I knew I would like you people," Monti says. "Enjoy! And I'll see you in thirty minutes."
Monti is about to step away when I stop her. "Excuse, me, Monti. Are we to call you in fifteen minutes or thirty minutes?"
"What did I say before?" Monti asks as if she's not for certain herself.
"You said fifteen before," Storm says.
"Well, in that case," Monti says, "call me in about forty minutes."
And Monti is gone.
The delectable bowl of banana ice cream is staring me in the face. Enough of the foreplay, it's time to get it on.
My first taste is sweet, cold, creamy and lip-smacking good. The banana flavor ignites my taste buds.
Aware of how conscious Storm is of her weight, I glance over at her, expecting to see her eat a spoonful or two and then push the bowl away. But she surprises me and doesn't do that at all. Instead, she continues to stuff her mouth with spoonful after spoonful of the creamy stuff before her.
After six mouth-watering teaspoons of the orgasmic banana ice cream, a deep peace washes over me and melts into every cell of my being. I drop the spoon from my hand and savor the moment.
Total freaking ecstasy envelops me and saturates my soul, my mind, and my body. I push the bowl away from me and scrunch down into the reclining chair.
Everyone in the world should feel this good.
I am so high right now. I don't know what's going on. I lie back and close my eyes while the classic More Than a Woman by the Bee Gees blares from the wall speakers.
There's so much love in me right now, I could cry.
I wrap my arms around my body, holding myself tightly, my spirits soaring at 30,000 feet.
I am in La-La land.
Episode Nineteen
This decadent feeling induced by the banana ice cream is causing me to really think about who I am and what I want to do with my life. For the first time in my lack luster writing career, I don't just want to write a great book, I want to start a movement, and be a part of something magnanimous even if I'm not certain what that would be.
I just want to do something awesome. It must be the ice cream talking because I have never felt like this before, and from the gratified faces of Rome, India, and Storm, the ice cream is working its magic on them as well. Not one unhappy camper can be found. Not in this juncture.
One thing is for certain: There's definitely more to this ice cream than sugar and cream.
With a smile on my face and joy in my heart, I peer up at the high see-through glass ceiling and breathe ever so easily. Suddenly, leaving the House of Rome no longer appeals to me, and I decide to stay. Though I'm well aware of the reasons why I should leave, there's one pressing reason that keeps me confined.
I simply don't want to go. I decide to forget about what happened earlier, and just enjoy what we have now, which is complete togetherness. I release another great breath and smile as this feel-good feeling washes over me. I have to wonder: How long do I get to feel this way?
Not only am I feeling sensational, but now as I peer over at Rome, who excerpts a dangerous sexual energy, exuding availability and readiness, I'm thinking about sex again. But I don't dare tell him that. I've seen that movie before, and I know how it ends.
The wondrously contented expressions plastered across Storm, India and Rome's face tells me that I'm not the only one in danger of overdosing on euphoria. In this amazing state of bliss, I have questions I want answered, and I want them answered now.
"Okay, I have waited long enough," I say to Rome. "Are you finally going to tell me what you were doing to Storm that evening that caused her to make all of those noises?"
Rome's eyes twirl towards me as if he is about to speak, but Storm interjects. "He was strangling me and kissing me at the same time."
My eyes blink and blink and blink some more. "Really?" I say with a curious smile and then ease back into my chair. Images of Rome strangling me and suffocating me with kisses penetrates my mind with a vengeance. Now, I can't stop thinking about it, wondering about it, and most of all, fantasizing about it.
In the midst of my erotic-filled daydream, Storm touches my hand and ask me, "Are you interested?"
I am jilted back into real time, and I ease forward. Of course, I'm interested, but I don't tell them that. Instead, I say, "I don't think so. It's a little too out of the box for me."
"Seriously?" Rome asks me with a chuckle. "Who do you think you're fooling?"
"Obviously, not you," I say to him.
"Hey, everybody, I have an idea," India says. "Let's start a love group."
All eyes shoot to India as she slides out of
her chair and stands before us. She wears ankle-length pants and a peach cardigan sweater. "Here's what I'm thinking." Truckloads of zest and vigor ooze from her mouth as she continues. "We find a group that we love, and we love the hell out of them. It would be the opposite of a hate group."
Storm laughs. "Maybe you should lie back down."
"I happen to like India's idea," I say, then turn to India. "You just let me know who we're going to love."
India returns to her semi-reclining chair and stretches out her hands to us in her giddy state. "Let's all hold hands. I have something very important to say."
We connect our hands with each other and wait for India to speak.
India's eyes rotate over to Rome, then Storm and then over to me. "You guys are my true family. I hope you all know that." She looks as if she's about to cry, but she doesn't. "And I love you."
Even though it's definitely the ice cream talking right now, India's words are sweet and heartfelt.
"Well, I have news for you, India," Rome says. "We all love you, too. Right ladies?"
"Absolutely." Storm winks her eye at India and smiles.
"And I want you all to know that if there is anything any of you ever want, please, please don't hesitate to ask," India says. "I probably will not be able to help you, but I want you to ask me just the same."
"There is just so much freaking love in this room, between all of us," I say, allowing my eyes to fall shut, "And I love it." I scream, expelling the overabundance of positive energy inside me.
I swing forward because now I have something I want to say. "I might not have a million dollars or big breasts like Halle Berry or a sexy ass like J-Lo, but at least, I have all of you."
