The New Rule: (The Casual Rule 2)

by AC Netzel

  “A dinosaur tablecloth won’t look ridiculous?” I ask sarcastically.

  “It’s this or a shower curtain. Your pick.” She holds out the sheet to me.

  I grab it. “Fine, cartoon dinosaurs it is. Why do we own this?”

  “I have no clue. When my grandmother lived in this apartment, there were two twin beds in what’s now my bedroom—for me and my brother when we’d stay over. I think this was for his bed. I had tiny pink flowers.” She raises her hand up as I open my mouth. “Before you ask, I already looked for the flowers. This sheet is all there is. I’ll put it on the table.”

  I close my eyes and count to ten to calm my nerves. I’m not going to let a little tablecloth misfortune ruin my elegant dinner party.

  After arranging a few wedges of cheese selected by the cheesemongers from the Cheese Shop around the corner, I stick little silver knives in each wedge. I place a small cluster of white grapes on the wooden cheeseboard, fan out a few water crackers, and add a tiny bowl of Kalamata olives.

  I take a step back and admire my masterpiece. It’s a work of art. No one will notice the cartoon dinosaur tablecloth/bedsheet when there’s food porn to adore.

  Walking into our living room, I ignore the mess that is our couch and television pushed against the wall to make room for the folding table and chairs. I roll my eyes at the sight of the ridiculous tablecloth and place the cheese platter in the center of the table. Allie lights up two votive candles and plunks them down on either end of the platter. She puts a pile of six small plates on the side of the platter then dips two fingers into the bowl of olives. I slap her hand.

  “Hands off. That’s for our company. And they’re going to be here any minute.”

  “I’m testing it for poison,” she replies sarcastically.

  “If they die after taking a bite, we’ll know it was poisoned. I want everything to look perfect. It’s bad enough we have this God-awful tablecloth.”

  “Fine, fine.”

  “Where did you hide the filth?” I ask.

  “I filled two garbage bags full of everything I could find, including your gossip magazines, our mail, and some underwear that I don't think belongs to either of us. I took whatever else I could grab and shoved it in the closet. If anyone tries to open it, they're going to get crushed.”

  “Okay, you’re in charge of making sure no one touches the closet door.”

  “Why would they want to go in the closet?”

  “Because it’s just my luck. That’s why.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Fine, I’m on closet duty. Will you calm down now?”

  I take a deep breath. “Okay. I’m calm,” I lie.

  ~o0o~

  The intercom buzzes and my stomach relocates to my throat. I don’t know why I’m so nervous about this. It’s only my friends and boyfriend. All have been here countless times.

  Martha Stewart, why did you have to set the bar so high?

  The first to arrive is Vince with a bottle of wine in hand. Before we can say hello, Allie drags him to the kitchen.

  No, this isn’t too uncomfortable. Come on, somebody… anybody, arrive. These two have a way of taking their sex drive from zero to sixty in the blink of an eye. And they don’t care where they are or who hears it.

  Thankfully the intercom buzzes again and I let Ben in.

  A few minutes later, there’s a light knock on my door. I open it and smile at the handsome man smiling back at me, with a bakery box in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. I catch a glimpse of his dimples and I’m already putty.

  “Hi,” I breathe. God, I’m so pathetic.

  “Hi. For you.” He holds out the bakery box with a familiar red string tied in a bow around it. I happily take it from him.

  “Mmm, Clara’s cupcakes.” I arch a brow. “I’ll put one aside for later, spread the icing all over my naked body, and you can lick it off,” I murmur darkly.

  “You do that and icing won’t be the only thing you’ll be spreading,” a voice off to the side of the doorway wisecracks.

  “Dammit, Marcello. Where the hell did you come from?” I ask, embarrassed and annoyed.

  “My mother’s womb. Hopefully, she wasn’t into ‘cupcake kink’ like you apparently are,” he answers flatly. “Lord knows what the two of you would do with a cannoli.”

  Ben shakes his head and laughs. “Marcello and Peter were walking up to the building as you buzzed me in. We came up together,” he says as he walks in with Marcello and Peter behind him.

  Peter hands two bottles of wine to me and kisses my cheek. “This should prove to be an interesting night.”

  “I’m starting to think that,” I agree.

  Marcello hugs me tightly. “I’m going to steal your boyfriend,” he whispers in my ear.

  “Yours is standing right next to you,” I whisper back.

  “Ben’s my free pass.”

  “Whore.”

  “You know what they say: ‘Once you have Marcello, you’ll want no other fellow.’”

  “You know, Ben’s straight.”

  “I can fix that.”

  “What are you whispering about?” Ben asks, amused at our prolonged hug.

  “Nothing you want to hear about. Trust me,” I grumble. I unwind myself out of Marcello’s grip and kiss Ben on the lips. “Allie and Vince are… busying themselves in the kitchen. I’ll get them. Make yourselves comfortable at the table. There’s cheese and crackers. Help yourselves.”

  “Is that Dex the Tyrannosaurus Rex on the tablecloth? Yes, yes it is. I used to have a stuffed Dex when I was a kid,” Peter says.

  “Yes, there’s Sigmund the Stegosaurus and Victor the Velociraptor,” Marcello adds, pointing to each dinosaur.

  Right off the bat my elegant dinner party has gone to the tar pits. “We had a little tablecloth mishap. Just sit and eat cheese. I’ll open the wine,” I answer, flushed.

  Ben pulls me into a hug and presses a kiss on my forehead. “Everything looks fine. Don’t worry so much.”

  “I wanted everything perfect.”

  “That’s an impossible task. Julia, it’s just me and your friends. You don’t have to impress us. Let’s just enjoy our night.”

  “You’re right. Thanks.” I give him a quick peck on his cheek. “I’ll be right back.” I walk into the kitchen and stop dead in my tracks, covering my eyes with the bakery box. Allie is sitting on the counter, making out with Vince, who has his hand up her shirt. “Seriously? You can’t wait until you’re alone before the groping begins?” I ask.

  “We were alone,” Allie answers sarcastically. She’s not the least bit phased at what I walked in on. Vince laughs as he takes his hand off her breast and slides it out of her shirt.

  “Tuck in your shirt. Our guests are here.” I place three bottles of wine on the tiny kitchen table. “Vince, now that your hands are no longer occupied fondling my roommate’s boobs; can you open the wine bottles and bring them out to the table?”

  “Sure, Julia. Come on, baby, down you go,” he says. Allie giggles as Vince lifts her off the counter and steadies her back down to earth.

  Yeah right, Allie. You’re not in love with this guy.

  I grab six wine glasses and leave the kitchen.

  When I was picturing this dinner party in my head, I envisioned spirited debates on politics, global warming, or sports. Instead, I have Marcello serenading Peter and Ben to the theme song of a children’s cartoon dinosaur TV show while Vince is giving Allie a physical in the kitchen. I pass out the wine glasses and sit at the head of the folding table. Ben is to my right, Marcello and Peter on my left.

  Allie and Vince walk in with four open bottles of wine. They make their way around the table, saying their hellos then sit. Allie sits at the other head of the table with Vince to her left, next to Ben.

  I like this… the ladies seated at the head of the table. Girl power and all that jazz. We’re running the show here.

  “Nice job on the cheese platter,” Marcello says to me.

&
nbsp; “Hey, maybe I made it,” Allie whines.

  “Did you?” he asks.

  “No. I lit the candles though.”

  “Speaking of candles,” Peter chimes in. “Are these scented? It smells so familiar, but I can’t quite put my finger on what exactly it is.”

  Allie shrugs. “I don’t know I grabbed some from my parents’ place last time I was in New Jersey. I thought the yellow candles looked summery. Maybe it’s some flower.”

  Marcello waves his hand in front of his nose. “That’s no flower. That’s citronella.”

  “God, Allie, citronella candles? Really? That’s to keep mosquitoes away.”

  “Have you been bitten by a mosquito since I lit them?” she deadpans.

  I stand from my seat and blow out the candle closest to me. Vince grabs the one in front of him and blows it out.

  “That’s why this place was stinking up. I thought it was your cooking,” Marcello jokes.

  I scowl at him, then at Allie. She shrugs and laughs with the rest of the table. It snaps me out of my scowl, calms me, and I laugh too.

  This is Allie; it’s who she is. Freakishly smart and unapologetically ditzy. I wouldn’t want her any other way.

  ~o0o~

  Once everyone had their fill of cheese and crackers, Allie and I clear off the table.

  “I’ll help,” Ben offers.

  “No, stay here. Dinner is our show,” I tell him. The real reason I don’t want Ben to help is I don’t want him to stumble in on the mess in the kitchen. Mr. Neat Freak would probably break out in hives if he saw the state of our countertops. I’m not exactly a clean-as-you-cook chef. I’m more a Scarlett O’Hara “I’ll worry about the dishes tomorrow” type.

  After a few minutes, Allie and I come back to our pseudo-dining room. The men are talking cartoon dinosaurs again; reciting catchphrases from the TV show. They’re way too excited over this.

  I place the silver platter with the chicken, roasted vegetables, and red potatoes in the center of the table. Allie puts the salad bowl and gravy boat near it. I have to admit, I did a pretty spectacular job on dinner. I don’t know how it will taste, but it sure looks impressive.

  Martha would be proud.

  “Voila,” I say as I point to the platter with my best Spokesmodel pose.

  Everyone stares at me with blank expressions.

  “Dummies, she’s looking for applause for all her hard work,” Allie chides the men.

  “Oh,” they say in unison. Peter puts two fingers in his mouth and gives me an obnoxiously loud whistle. Ben and Marcello stand from their chairs vigorously clapping.

  “Bravo,” Marcello sings. “Bravo.”

  “Yeah, yeah. You’re all laying it on a little thick. You can sit down now,” I tell them.

  They take their seats again. I remain standing, frowning at the roasted chicken.

  “What’s wrong?” Ben asks.

  “I don’t know how to carve this thing.”

  He chuckles. “I’ll do it. Pass it over.”

  Ben carves the bird and places the platter back in the center of the table. Allie reaches across to grab the serving spoon and winces. “Ouch,” she moans, rubbing her shoulder blade.

  “Baby, what’s wrong?” Vince asks.

  “Julia made me reach for that platter earlier and I pulled my damn shoulder out.”

  “After dinner, I’ll take out your Swedish vibrating massager or that vibrator wand in your bedroom and give your shoulder a deep tissue massage. That should work out the kinks.”

  She glares at him incredulously. “I hope when you say my shoulder, what you mean is my vagina.”

  Ben chokes on his food. Marcello bursts out laughing. Peter rolls his eyes. I sit like a statue, dumbfounded by her lack of filter.

  Allie glances around the table with a look of confusion. “What? What did I say?”

  “You’re talking about your vibrator… in the middle of dinner,” I answer.

  “So?” She shrugs. “We all use them… Wands, vibrating cock rings, so on and so forth. Trust me, Jules, you want this model. You’ll thank me.”

  “It’s true. That wand has just two speeds. It’s easy to use. What were the speeds again, baby?” Vince asks.

  “Fuck and Holy fuck,” she answers, taking a sip of wine. “That magical wand will vibrate away any inhibitions. I’ll do anything for him when he’s done with me.”

  “She will. Guaranteed blowjob. And she sucks my dick like she invented it.”

  She tilts her head and smiles. “Aww, that was sweet. Thank you.”

  Only in the world of Allie and Vince would that be considered a high compliment.

  “I remember when she first bought that vibrator. I didn’t hear from her for two days.”

  She bursts out laughing. “I remember that, you thought I was mad at you.”

  He nods. “Ends up she was just doing herself.”

  “Oh, please. Let’s not discuss who’s doing themselves, Mr. Sleep Wanker.”

  “If you see it’s stiff and ready for action, you could always wake yourself up and take over.”

  “I’d be happy to help out, but it looked like you had everything well in hand. Anyway, I was tired.” She casually eats a forkful of chicken, talking so blasé, like she’s discussing the weather. “And, by the way, I know you stole some of your moves from porn. I recognized a few.”

  “Complaining?” he asks

  “Nope. Just making note of it.”

  The table is stunned into silence, with everyone propping their chins in their hands on bended elbows, watching the back and forth between Allie and Vince’s not-so-private private conversation like a tennis match. If anyone were made for each other, it’s these two.

  Eventually, the conversations turn back to more civilized topics: work, baseball, and reality shows. Typical stuff.

  Ben and Peter are talking about stocks and bonds. It’s a subject they have in common since they both have a background in it, with Peter working at a brokerage firm and Ben once working at his father’s brokerage house.

  “I’m ordering a cease and desist order on this conversation. It’s boring the hell out of everyone. Lucky for Peter, he met me, and I introduced him to something called fun. A concept that was lacking in his life,” Marcello complains.

  “How did you and Peter meet?” Ben asks.

  “We were at a masquerade party. I dressed up as a sexy Cowboy. You know; leather chaps, Stetson hat, all the way down to the cowboy boots and stirrups. There was this guy dressed as a Police Officer across the crowded room, scrumptious in a pressed blue uniform and dark sunglasses, eying me most of the night. He walked up to me, obviously looking for a hook-up and asked if I was as well-hung as my horse.”

  Peter cuts him off, shaking his head. “Don’t listen to a word he says. There is not an ounce of truth to that story. I worked on his financial portfolio. He came to my office to review my recommendations, and that turned into dinner.”

  “And that turned into a sleepover,” Marcello adds.

  Peter laughs. “A sleepover lasting over two years.” He reaches his hand across the table and squeezes Marcello’s.

  “What can I say? I’m irresistible.”

  “When did you know you were in love?” I ask.

  “The second I saw Peter in that double-breasted charcoal gray Brooks Brothers suit, my penis tingled… Well, tingled more than usual.”

  “Are you sure it wasn’t gonorrhea?” Allie jokes.

  “Nah, I’d be clapping too,” Marcello deadpans. “At that point, I decided he was going to be mine for dessert. If he wasn’t gay when we met, he’d be gay by the time I was done with him.”

  “Oh Marcello, I love it,” Allie exclaims, clapping her hands.

  “So Allie, how did you and Vince meet? I don’t think I ever heard the whole story,” Marcello asks.

  She shrugs. “There’s not much to tell. His company hired my accounting firm to do their books. I needed papers signed. A messenger was supposed to deliver
them, but I didn’t feel like working that day, so I offered to go to that dance club Sinful and meet him to have the papers signed. Sinful hadn’t opened yet, but his company was doing all the marketing and PR, so he was always there. I walk in and see this hot guy in a tight black T-shirt, a pair of ripped jeans and a yellow hardhat reading something on a clipboard. I figure he’s the foreman since they were doing the final touches on construction.

  I walk over to him to find out who this Mr. Rinaldo was so I could get the paperwork signed. Then I spotted the tats on his arms. Construction worker. Muscles. Ripped Jeans. Tats. No brainer, I had to have him. I unbuttoned the top two buttons of my blouse to show off the girls and made a beeline for him. When I reached him, his eyes went straight to my tits.”

  “For fucks sake baby, they were spilling out of your shirt,” Vince interrupts.

  “Yeah, well, they were on special assignment to get the hot construction worker’s attention.”

  “It worked,” he adds.

  “So anyway, I’m standing in front of him.”

  “With her tits hanging out.”

  “Fine, with my tits hanging out… and I don’t know, neither of us said a word, we just stood there, staring at each other. Then he licked his top lip.”

  “My lips were chapped… it was winter.”

  “I read it entirely wrong and thought it was his signal to jump him… so I did. I told him I was up for anything he wanted. We ended up screwing in a bathroom stall.”

  “It’s true. Afternoon sex with a nameless stranger. Nice way to spend a work day,” Vince says fondly.

  “Nameless until I got myself dressed and asked him if he knew who this PR asshole Vincent Rinaldo was so I could get my signature and get back to work.”

  Vince laughs. “I told her ‘Yeah, you just fucked him.’”

  I’m sure that’s a story they’ll want to share with their grandchildren someday.

  “It was pretty funny,” Allie says. “Oh speaking of Sinful… Jules, you remember Vince’s friend Pierce? He’s dropping off some papers Vince needed on his way to some party or something he’s going to in the Village. He mentioned he was looking forward to seeing you again.”