The Winemaker's Dinner: Dessert (The Winemaker's Feast)

by Rusilko, Dr. Ivan

  “Come for me, baby,” he commanded in a low, sexy tone as he continued to stroke her from the inside out. “Now.”

  At the sound of his voice she began to tremble. When he curled his fingers inside her and flicked his tongue over her clit, she shattered. She couldn’t even pull in a full breath and instead managed only short, desperate gasps as he continued to tease her with his mouth and fingers. She rode out the first orgasm, tugging at his hair as her legs trembled around his head.

  “Do it for me again, Jaden. I want to hear you scream,” he demanded as he worked her toward a second, more powerful climax.

  “Yes! Yes! Oh, Iv—”

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  She sat up in bed, disoriented by the sound and the aftereffects of the amazing feeling that had eluded her for so long. After a moment she realized where she was (in her new condo) and that she was alone (no Ivan). She glared at the bedside table and slapped the alarm on her phone silent. She blew out a heavy breath and fell back into the comfort of her new bed. She hadn’t known dreams like that were possible.

  Dreamgasm? She nearly managed a giggle. People have wet dreams all the time, she reminded herself. She’d just never experienced one quite so intense or with such a spectacular finish. Dreaming of Ivan in such a raw, sexual form had awakened feelings she’d tried to pack away months ago. There’s something to be said about the beard and longer hair. He looked bigger, too—his arms were huge. God, I wonder what else has changed? Fighting off a wave of sadness, she shook her head, hopped out of bed, and headed for the shower.

  As the water ran over her body, she thought about what she wanted versus what she needed. She needed to tell Ivan the whole story, to explain how she’d lost her way, been foolish and selfish, but her heart had held fast to him. It had kept her true. She needed to tell him how sorry she was and beg for his forgiveness. He needed to know she hadn’t slept with Damian and that no amount of emails, text messages, or phone calls could convey how sorry she was. And what she wanted was for everything to go back to the way it was, for them to make their peace with what happened. She wanted Ivan to forgive her and pick up where they’d left off, rebuilding on the foundation she hoped still existed. But wants and needs are not the same, she reminded herself. And it’s the needs you should attend to first. If she could just get Ivan to listen, if she could know for sure that he knew the truth, maybe then she could find her way to peace no matter what the outcome.

  Jaden stepped out and wrapped herself in a towel. Should she tell Ivan she was in town, or should she rely on fate to place him in her path? What if he’d already heard she was there? Four days wasn’t long, but word traveled fast in South Beach. She and Tasha had enjoyed a pool day already, so of course Micky knew she was in town. Jaden wasn’t sure how she felt about the fact that Ivan and Micky had become such great friends, but she supposed it was comforting to know Ivan had at least one good friend left who didn’t want anything from him—didn’t have any underlying business plans or shady, self-promoting motivations. Further proving his loyalty, Micky had made it clear he had no interest in being in the middle of this situation and planned not to discuss either of them with the other. But still…There was probably some kind of bro-code necessity that would eventually wear him down.

  She needed coffee. Fortunately, in addition to furniture, her condo had come equipped with a convenient little single-serving coffee machine, with all the flavors of the coffee rainbow to choose from. She tucked the tail of the towel deeper and tighter under her arm and headed for the kitchen. Just a few quick clicks and a couple of minutes later, she moved into the living room with a steaming mug of coffee in hand. She stood quietly, enjoying the view from the condo. Finding this short-term sublease had been a stroke of luck. She smiled down at joggers on the boardwalk below. Not long ago, she’d run along that same path and wondered what the view looked like from this building. Now she knew.

  Jaden pushed open the sliding glass door, stepped out on the tiny, standing-room-only balcony and looked out across the bay. For six months she’d been away from Ivan, and from Miami Beach. She’d played out countless scenarios and had a thousand imaginary conversations with him, trying to sort out how she might actually begin reconciliation. None of her phone calls, texts, or emails had done anything other than prove her tenacity, but even if he hadn’t read them, she hoped he realized she wasn’t ready to let him go.

  And though she continued to have moments of self-doubt, when she wondered whether she’d ever deserved Ivan at all, something about seeing him her first morning back in town at the Fontainebleau had galvanized her resolve. And in a way, her dream this morning now pushed her forward as well. She had to speak with him. She had to try in person to get him back.

  What if he’s dating? What if he’s dating a lot? What if he really doesn’t want you anymore? Jaden thought for a moment and realized she could live with the answers to those questions, no matter what they were. Of course he was dating. She’d be surprised if he wasn’t. And perhaps he’d even met someone else to care for. She’d be crushed, but she had to know. At least then she would know for certain whether she’d have to continue to live alone with the consequences of her actions. Perhaps she’d finally mourn the loss of true love and move on. That’s what she needed.

  What she couldn’t live with would be more of his evading and her being forced to pretend that everything was okay, in both her personal and professional lives. She knew he had never let Irena back in, even if only to cinch up a relationship gone bad with an ounce of closure, and eventually Irena gave up. And because she did, Ivan had been available when Jaden came along. Huh…It wouldn’t be easy, but what they had was real and worth saving. She had to try. No giving up.

  A warm breeze kicked up around her, as if the universe approved of her tactics. She couldn’t control Ivan’s actions, but she was definitely in charge of her own. No matter how long it took or how desperate it became, the way forward for her, the way to find herself again, would be to seek Ivan’s forgiveness until he told her there was no chance in hell he could ever love her again.

  She wasn’t giving up. Jaden took her coffee back inside and picked up her phone.

  I miss you.

  Chapter 8

  “Love and Memories”

  “ASIAN CHICKEN SALAD AND A PITCHER OF WATER, PLEASE,” Ivan said. He handed the menu back to the waiter without having looked at it. He’d been here a hundred times, and a hundred times he’d ordered the same thing.

  “Yes, sir.”

  This was his go-to place for good food and people watching, and Ivan found himself once again nursing a sexual hangover from the night before. He could still remember how the incessant drone of the synthetic music had reverberated off the club’s walls as Ivan and the freak sat patiently.

  The incessant drone of the synthetic music had reverberated off the club’s walls as Ivan and the freak sat patiently, quietly clinging to the control and good judgment that had become rare at this stage of the game. His eyes never stopped moving as he observed and assessed potential partners for the debauchery the freak demanded.

  Redheads, brunettes, blondes, Cubans, Asians, and a particularly spectacular African American woman—all the colors of the flesh rainbow had swarmed the dance floor, writhing in perfect harmony. Many of them met his eyes as he watched. No doubt they scoured the perimeter for the next unsuspecting, unlucky bastard—the next future ex-husband, Sugar Daddy, or Mr. Right Now. As long as he had cash money to spend, he was their next victim. This immediately ruled them out, as this was not what he had in mind. Ivan, and whether he liked it or not, the freak, was looking for sex, not a social climber. They worked in tandem, eliminating women one by one. Only a no-strings-attached, no-games-to-play sexual drug dealer could give him what he needed to bandage the hole ripped back open by the recent return of heartbreak personified.

  Blonde on the left. Ivan eyed the Eastern European girl in the light blue dress shaking her shit and making aggressive eye contact.


  Come on, Ivan pleaded with the freak. Ten minutes into it she’ll be asking about financials and what she gets for fucking us. Even though you can bounce a quarter off her ass, she ain’t worth it.

  Okay, black girl on the right in low cut jeans and the white shirt.

  Ivan’s eyes raked over the dark beauty on the dance floor. When the music transitioned from low beats to high energy, her body flowed along fluidly, indicating some real talent. He nodded appreciatively as the delicate flower budded into an erotic fruit that tempted him without mercy.

  No, no, no…the freak interrupted. The redhead with the boy shorts and her tits out.

  Ivan found the rocket cutting the rug five yards away. When she felt his eyes on her, she began running her hands up and down her body. She would be insane. I want that. We need that.

  Uff…He hated when the freak made him an active participant in chasing his addiction. There was always less guilt, less responsibility when they pursued him. This game, this pretending he had a choice, that the freak wouldn’t ultimately decide his fate for the night, was miserable. But the news of Miami Beach’s latest arrival made him desperate, which was worse than being miserable. How many would it take to satiate this unquenchable thirst and numb his heart?

  As the DJ continued through an endless playlist of shitty techno music, Ivan had sat back and contemplated the gauntlet the freak laid before him:

  Blonde with the IQ of a golden retriever but the ass of a thoroughbred.

  Black girl with an ass shake that would move mountains.

  Or the redhead whose lustful stare could melt the foundation that held marriages together.

  Left, right, up, down, over, under—it didn’t matter. No matter how he tried, the thought of Jaden in town made him yearn for the ultimate release and some kind of magic amnesia for what could and should have been. The possibility of her being close enough to touch made him hope to cross her path, but the idea of actually seeing her scared the living shit out of him. Did she deserve a response to all her attempted contacts or did she deserve him fucking all three of these girls tonight and reaching the highest sexual oblivion possible to drown out the idea of her?

  He’d surveyed the room one last time and then surrendered, allowing the freak to unleash himself and clip all three ladies who had tempted him. With a flick of his hand, an unmistakable stare, and a tip of his head, he’d beckoned them one by one to his table. He’d done his alter ego’s bidding and then retreated into himself, letting the freak take control.

  Later that evening, the three gorgeous women, their flesh slick with sex and sweat, had all tangled together in a night of debauchery. It had taken a swarm of nameless women to satisfy the freak this time, and he was beginning to feel a little out of control. Nameless, faceless women were all he had left, and evidently they were beginning to lose their effect. Every encounter was more aggressive and deviant than the last, and with each one, he lost a little more of himself. He was becoming tolerant to the drug he’d used to numb the pain, just as the source of his pain had drawn near. What would he do when the high wore off completely and he was left with a gaping wound in his chest? That scared the shit out of him, too.

  Desperate now to change the direction of his thoughts, Ivan diverted his attention away from last night’s debauchery and back to the present. He’d indulge in some good old therapeutic Lincoln Road people watching, a pastime that had always seemed to soothe what ailed him. He watched as what appeared to be a fifty-year-old rollerblader rolled by wearing a gold thong that matched his skin tone. Interesting. Seconds later, a Rastafarian guy with dreads hanging down to his ass meandered by asking for spare change. Boring. But what did catch his attention was the dark-haired girl looking sexy as hell in a red dress and oversized sunglasses. Now we’re talking.

  But on second look, his heart began to pound in his ears like a drum. This wasn’t some beach bunny out for a stroll. It was her, the one who’d kicked him in the proverbial nuts six months ago before a crowd of all their friends. The one who, minutes later, had torn his still-beating heart from his chest in the parking lot. The one who’d stripped him of his very essence. And the one who still controlled everything he was and all he wanted to be.

  As she closed the gap between them, he began to tremble in anticipation, nervousness, or fear—he couldn’t discern which one. But it didn’t matter, because he had to get a grip on whatever inconvenient emotion was bubbling up to the surface. He looked down, covering his face with one hand and fumbling with his phone in the other. He tried desperately to blend in. He wasn’t ready for any form of contact, and he didn’t know if he ever would be.

  After a moment he couldn’t help but raise his head and admire her—the way the red dress clung to her curves—as she passed. But his admiration was cut short when the freak offered his two cents: Lying, cheating bitch.

  Maybe talking to her was what he needed to let go and move on. He had to quit punishing himself before he spiraled further out of control. I know what you need…

  “Here you go, sir.”

  “Thank you,” Ivan managed as he looked down at his favorite dish. But the sight of her had caused him to lose his appetite. The freak roared in his ear, urging him to go and lose himself in his next fix, but he ignored the beast’s taunting and allowed his mind to fill with thoughts of what could have been.

  If she hadn’t shattered their happily ever after, they would’ve been planning a wedding together this very moment. They’d be the “it” couple of South Beach, enjoying fantastic careers and the fruits of all their hard work. His new practice would be the freedom and joy he’d wanted it to be, not just the endless grind of additional work it sometimes seemed like. She would visit him in Miami Beach to soak up the sun and relax, and he would go to L.A. to spoil her and provide temporary relief from the hustle and bustle of entertainment life. Their lives would have been full of colors and feelings that blinded with their brilliance, not this mundane, sepia-toned half life he was living.

  Nevertheless, he was thankful for everything the business had required of him lately. He ran both hands through his hair. Where he was and what he was doing was his dream. Yes, Jaden had for a time been part of that dream, but he still had a plan, a purpose. Before things fell apart with her, he’d believed he was putting everything he had into his career, but without her, he’d discovered how much more he could make himself give. The current ahead-of-schedule success of his new practice was no doubt a direct result of the pain and heartbreak he’d experienced. He was a master at masking his devastation with determination, and he’d funneled all his extra time and creative energy into his work. He shuddered to think what he and the freak might become without it. It was a bittersweet return for such an investment, but if she hadn’t crucified him and their relationship, he wouldn’t be where he was now. And it was exactly where he wanted to be, wasn’t it?

  He knew in his heart it wasn’t. It had sounded like a lie from the moment he formed the thought, but her gigantic clusterfuck of a mistake had kept his storybook ending from being written. There was nothing he could do. Suddenly Ivan knew there was no way he could survive with her in his Miami Beach bubble. He had to know why she was here.

  Wait, mistake? Is that what it was? But he shook the thought from his mind as he hailed a passing waitress. It was so much more than a mere mistake. He handed the waitress a fifty-dollar bill and pointed to the Rastafarian still scrounging for change outside. “Could you box this up and give it to that man right there, please? And you can keep the change.”

  And with that he strolled off in the direction opposite the one she had just come from, hands in his pocket and a hole in his bleeding heart.

  Chapter 9

  “Somebody That I Used to Know”

  “LET’S GO, BITCH!” Tasha yelled as Jaden scurried up the concrete steps that led into Bianca.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming, but these shoes are killing me,” Jaden replied, pointing to her new pair of four-inch black patent heels.

/>   Tasha smiled and offered her an arm as they entered Jaden’s former workplace through the large, wooden doors. Jaden grinned and closed her eyes for a moment as she soaked in the familiarity. “Ooh, they have new drapes,” she commented. “The classic white is a nice touch.”

  Tasha rolled her eyes, but was prevented from delivering her next snarky comment by Geoff’s voice.

  “Jaden Thorne!” He burst through the kitchen’s double doors with a dramatic flair and darted across the dining room to greet her.

  “Geoff!” she cried, wrapping her arms around him. “I’ve missed you!” And in that moment, she realized she really had.

  “How have you been? What are you in town for—business or pleasure? And where’s—” Geoff caught himself and smiled apologetically.

  “I missed my friends and my favorite kitchen,” Jaden explained. “The show is on hiatus.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re back. It’s so good to see you! And it’s nice to see you as well, Tasha. She’s one of our regulars, you know,” Geoff added with a wink. “Are you going to be here long?”

  “I’ll be here two whole months,” Jaden announced, looking around. “I’ll be relaxing, but you know a chef can’t stay out of the kitchen for long…”

  “Don’t tease me!” Geoff warned. “We’d love to have you back any time you want!”

  “You just let me know, and I’ll be sure to be available.”

  “You’re the best!” Geoff wrapped Jaden in another hug, then returned to his business self. “Let’s get you ladies some food.”