by Judith Gould
They reached a distant corner where no one was around, and Tom indicated the banquette with a hand. “How’s this?” he asked. “Okay?”
“Fine,” Crissy replied. “You don’t want to join your friends?”
“Not now,” he said. “Besides, here I think we can actually talk to each other without shouting.” They put their drinks down on the black glass and chrome table, and he let her sit down and scoot across the banquette’s leather-upholstered seat, making room for him. He sat close to her, but left enough room to turn sideways to face her with one leg up on the seat.
“It’s actually fairly quiet here,” Crissy said, feeling somewhat unnerved by such close proximity without other people around. She certainly wasn’t afraid of him. No, it wasn’t that at all—he’d been a perfect gentleman, hadn’t he?—but his interest in her was a little unsettling and aroused her curiosity. Perhaps, too, she reflected, it was the confident, masculine, well-bred air that surrounded him, as well as his charm and handsomeness. Oh, hell, she finally admitted to herself, he’s all that and just plain sexy.
“I guess I seem a little aggressive,” he said, as if he could read her mind, “and I don’t want to scare you off. But I didn’t want to pass up the chance to get to know you a little better.” After taking a sip of his drink, he added, “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”
“What do you want to know?” she asked with a laugh.
“Everything,” he replied, looking into her eyes. Then he laughed, too. “Well . . . everything that you’d like to tell me.”
“Oh . . . well . . . I wouldn’t even know where to start,” Crissy said.
“Then I’ll ask you twenty questions,” he said. “How’s that?”
“Okay,” she said with a nod. “At least, I guess it’s okay.” She laughed again.
“I promise I won’t ask anything too . . . personal,” he replied, smiling. “Are you from here?”
Crissy nodded. “I was born and raised here. In a little house in Guilderland.” She looked at him questioningly. “And you?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Where?” she asked.
“Loudonville.”
Naturally, she thought. He would be from the most exclusive part of town. “That’s nice,” she said. “There’re so many beautiful houses there.”
“Did you go to school here?”
“Oh, yes. I went to Central. You?”
“I went away to school,” he said. “To Deerfield.”
“A boarding school?” she asked.
He nodded. “And your parents were from here?”
“My dad was from Castleton,” she said. “A little town south of here on the Hudson.” She didn’t add that he was a hopeless alcoholic who only came by to beg money off her.
“I know where it is,” he said. “A pretty little place.”
“Well, maybe parts of it are pretty,” she said with a laugh, “but a lot of it definitely is not what you’d call pretty.”
“And your mother?”
“She’s from Vietnam, and now she owns a spa here in Albany,” Crissy replied, hoping that he didn’t ask her anything else about Lily, her difficult, complex mother.
“Aha,” Tom said. “So he met her during the Vietnam war.” He swirled the ice around in his drink. “Excuse me, I mean ‘conflict.’ ”
Crissie nodded. “Right. They met, fell in love, and got married.”
“That’s explains why you’re so beautiful,” he said. “You’re part Asian.”
She felt the blood rush to her face, and knew that she was blushing. “Yes, and I bet your parents are both from old Albany families.”
“No, actually,” he replied. “My mother is from an old Saratoga family.” He smiled. “My dad’s from here, though. An old Albany family, as you say. But that’s enough about me. I’m boring, and my family’s boring. I want to know about you.” He paused and took another sip of his drink. “So you met Jenny at SUNY. What did you study there?”
“Liberal arts,” she replied, “and I was thinking about majoring in art history before I dropped out.”
“Oh, so you didn’t finish,” he said. “Why not?”
“My family quit supporting me,” Crissy said, “and I started working full-time so I could get a place of my own. You know, away from home. Then Karen, this friend of mine, was getting her beautician’s license and talked me into going there, too. So I did. It was affordable and didn’t take too long, and I saw that I could make a lot more money than working for minimum wage in department stores and places like that.”
He nodded. “So you’re a hairdresser?”
“Yes,” Crissy said. “A hairdresser, more or less by accident.”
“Do you think you’ll go back to school?”
“I don’t know,” Crissy said. “I’d like to, but I think I want to see some of the world first.” She didn’t mind his questions, but she was beginning to feel as if she was getting the third degree. Was this part of a background check, to see if she was worthy of his attention? she wondered.
“Sounds reasonable,” he said. “Do you like what you do?”
Crissy laughed.
“What?” he asked, smiling. “What’s so funny?”
“Oh, nothing,” she said. “You just ask a lot of questions.”
“I told you that I’m interested in you,” he said. “It’s just my way of finding out about you.”
“I know,” she said. “It’s . . . it’s just that . . . well, you seem so serious, and you’re asking a lot all at once.” She paused thoughtfully then said, “I guess most of the men I’ve known haven’t really been all that interested in me. At least they haven’t asked these kind of questions right off the bat. They’ve mostly just been interested in . . . well . . .”
“Getting in your pants,” he supplied.
Crissy nodded.
“I can’t blame them,” he said, looking into her eyes. He took one of her hands in his. “Like I said, you’re beautiful, but you’re also intelligent.”
The touch of his hand seemed intimate for some reason. Crissy suddenly felt her pulse begin to race, and her body seemed to awaken to desires she hadn’t felt in a long time. She could hardly believe this was happening, and she wondered if he was experiencing a similar reaction, if he was aroused by her. She only had to wait a moment for the answer.
“Would you like to leave?” he asked. “I know you haven’t been here long, but I think we could have a much better time talking someplace else. Someplace with privacy, where we could really get to know each other.” He held her gaze unflinchingly.
She nodded without a second thought, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Good,” he said in a whisper, still holding her hand in his. He stared at her silently, then said, “Why don’t we get our coats?”
“Okay,” she replied.
They got to their feet, and he took her hand again, leading her toward the front of the club. “I’ve got to let Jenny know that I’m leaving,” Crissy said. “I drove, so I’ve got to make sure she’s got a ride home.”
“Of course,” he said. He turned toward the dance floor, his gaze searching for Jenny’s long mane of streaked hair. “I see her,” he said. He looked at Crissy, grinning. “She’s dancing with Jim Golden. Let’s go tell them.”
He led the way onto the dance floor, weaving around couples, until they reached Jenny and Jim. They were gyrating madly in time to the music, oblivious to Crissy and Tom until he touched Jenny’s shoulder. She jerked and looked around. “You leaving?” she cried above the thunderous music.
“Is it okay?” Crissy asked, raising her voice to be heard. “Can you get a ride?”
Jenny laughed and nodded. “Jim?” She poked her dancing partner in the back, and he turned around, his eyes closed, his body still moving to the music.
Tom clapped a hand on his shoulder, and Jim opened his eyes. He smiled widely, but kept moving. “Hey, what’s happening?” he asked.
“Do you mind giving me a lift home?” Jenny asked him.
“Are you kidding?” he said. “Of course I’ll take you home.” He moved against her, still dancing, running his hands up and down her sides, pressing his pelvis against hers.
“See you later,” Jenny said with a laugh. “Have fun.”
Crissy blew her a kiss, and she and Tom wove their way back through the throng of dancers to the front of the club. At the coat check, he helped her into her fuzzy fake fur, then put on his overcoat. Outside, they said good night to the doorman, then walked hand in hand toward the parking lot.
“You can come to my place,” he said, “but it’s a disaster area. I’m having it painted, so everything’s covered up with drop cloths and the smell is not exactly conducive to good conversation.”
“We can go to mine, if you want to,” Crissy said. “It’s nothing fancy, but it’ll do.”
“That’s great,” he replied. “Where is it?”
“In a house on Washington Park,” she said.
“What if I follow you there?”
“Okay. I’ve got a little blue Neon, and it’s . . . over there.” She pointed with a finger.
“I’ll put you in your car, then you can wait at the exit for me,” he said.
They reached her car, and Crissy unlocked it. He held the door open for her, then leaned in. “See you in a few minutes,” he said. “I’ll be right behind you.”
Crissy nodded. “I won’t drive fast.”
He turned and walked off, and Crissy started the Neon and drove to the exit, where she waited for him. Through the rearview mirror, she saw a shiny British racing-green Jaguar convertible pull up behind her. She recognized Tom’s face before he honked the horn.
She found a space on the block where she lived. As she got out of the car and locked it, Tom rolled down his window and called to her, “I’ll find a place to park and be right back.”
Crissy waited on the sidewalk in the chill wind, but she didn’t really notice the cold. She hadn’t been this excited about seeing a man in a very long time. When she saw him coming up the sidewalk toward her, she felt her pulse race once again. I can’t believe this, she thought. I feel like I’m living in a dream.
“Hi,” he said, sidling up next to her and taking her hand.
“Hi,” she replied.
“This is it?” he said, looking toward the old, once beautiful mansion.
“This is it,” she said, echoing his words.
They walked up the steps to the front porch and went inside.
“This used to be quite a house,” he said, looking around the hall and up the ornate staircase.
“A long time ago,” Crissy said, “but I like living here. It’s quiet, and it’s on the park. And it’s my own.”
She had left a table lamp and the radio switched on, as she always did. Soft music filled the apartment, and the light, she thought, was just right. “I’ll hang up your coat,” she said, turning to Tom.
He took it off and handed it to her, his gaze sweeping the single large room in which she lived. “This is nice,” he called to her as she hung up his coat. “Very homey.”
“Thanks,” she said. “You want something to drink? I have some Johnnie Walker scotch.”
“That’d be great,” he said. “Just a little bit on ice.”
“Oh,” Crissy said, looking at him. “I didn’t even think. You want me to hang up your jacket?” He was wearing a very expensive-looking suit and tie.
“That’s okay,” he said. “I’ll just put it on a chair, Crissy.” He took it off and tossed it over the back of a chair, still looking around the apartment as he loosened his tie. He took it off and tossed it on the jacket. “This was probably the dining room,” he said.
“It was,” Crissy said, coming back from the kitchen counter. She handed him his scotch.
“Thanks,” he said. “What’re you having?”
“I think I’ll have a glass of wine, now that I’m home,” she said. “Be right back. Have a seat. Make yourself comfortable.”
Tom sat down on the love seat and took a sip of his drink. When she returned, he looked up at her and smiled. “Cheers,” he said, lifting his glass.
“Cheers to you, too,” Crissy said.
“I like your place a lot. It’s comfortable and not too girlie, if you know what I mean.”
Crissy laughed. “I know exactly what you mean. I have girlfriends who live in pink rooms full of stuffed animals and lacy everything.”
He laughed. “Makes me cringe,” he said, “but this looks like a grown-up lives here.”
“Thanks,” she said, sitting down on the love seat. She had positioned herself in the corner rather than next to him, but there was very little space between them, since the love seat was so small. She realized that his jacket had concealed a powerful-looking chest and well-developed arms. Wondering if that moment of intimacy she’d felt in the club could be recaptured, she took a sip of her wine. She knew that having more wine was risky—she might get tipsy or worse—but she decided to throw caution to the wind for a change. Tom Gentry excited her, and he was worth the risk.
He took a sip of his drink and set the glass on the little coffee table, then took her free hand in his. “Where were we?” he asked with a smile.
Crissy laughed. “I think we had reached my job. Whether or not I like what I do.”
“Do you?”
“I’m . . . bored with it,” Crissy said frankly. “Tired of giving ladies highlights and color and being their shrink.”
“I bet you’re a good listener,” he said. “That’s why they tell you their problems.”
Crissy shrugged. “I suppose,” she said. “A lot of them are very nice people, and I like them. Some of them aren’t, of course. But it doesn’t really matter. I need to be doing something else, but I’m not sure what that is yet.”
Tom nodded as if he understood. “You said you want to see some of the world.”
“Yes,” Crissy said. “I want to get out of Albany and see what’s out there.”
“I can’t blame you for that,” he replied. “This is a small town. I’d hate it if I didn’t get away a lot.”
“Where do you go?” she asked.
“Here, there, and everywhere,” he said. “I go to Europe at least once a year, and sometimes I take a trip to someplace new. Safari in Kenya. The Great Barrier Reef in Australia. That kind of thing. On weekends I go up to the Adirondacks to a place I have up there. Sometimes I go riding down near Old Chatham with the hunt club. I board a horse down there.”
“You are busy,” Crissy said. “It sounds so exciting.”
“Uh-huh,” he said. “It can be pretty exciting, and I keep very busy.” He pressed her hand gently and gazed into her eyes. “But it feels really good to be here relaxing with you right now.”
“It . . . I feel good, too,” she responded, setting her wineglass down.
He slid an arm around her shoulder and ran his fingers through her hair.
She could feel his breath on her neck and could smell the distinctly masculine aroma that he exuded. It was provocative and erotic, and once again she suddenly felt as if her body had awakened to long-dormant desires.
“I want to make love to you,” he said softly. “You excite me, and nobody’s done that for a long, long time. Not really. Not like you.”
Crissy felt herself melt. She didn’t know another word to more accurately describe what she was feeling, and she wanted him more than ever. It was as if her mind and body had wants and needs over which she had no control, so powerful was the feeling. She couldn’t say no; it was unthinkable.
He leaned closer, and his lips brushed against her ear, then slowly, almost reverentially he brushed her neck with those sensuous lips, barely touching her skin. Her breath caught in her throat. He brushed his lips across her cheek, still barely touching her, then across her lips as if in a whisper of a kiss. A barely audible groan escaped his lips, and he took her into his arms, pressing her agai
nst him gently but firmly, his desire for her mounting. She felt a shiver rush through her body, charging her with an electric longing that she hadn’t known existed until this moment. She encircled him with her arms, drawing him closer to her, lusting for the touch of his body against her own, her mind closing out the rest of the world. His lips were pressed to hers, and his tongue slowly parted them, tenderly at first, then delving farther, exploring, in an eager desire to know her and please her, to possess her.
Crissy felt herself let go completely, intent only on the pleasure that she was capable of giving him, fearlessly daring to expose herself to this man as she had no other. When he suddenly withdrew from her, releasing his gentle hold of her and pulling back, she gasped almost as if bitten, but she opened her eyes and saw that he was gazing upon her with an expression that was at once carnal lust and pure joy.
“Let’s get undressed,” he whispered, expelling a long breath. He ran a finger down the side of her face. “Then let’s get in bed.” His face was flushed with pleasure.
She nodded, and he rose to his feet, extending a hand for her. She took it, and he pulled her up beside him.
She kicked off her mules and started to take off her glittery top, but he took her hands in his. “Let me,” he said, and she stood still as he slowly slid it up to her neck, then over her head, sliding the sleeves off her arms at the same time. He laid it on the loveseat, then his eyes swept over her before coming to rest on her lacy black bra. He unhooked it, then slipped it off her. She heard his sharp intake of breath and could see a new intensity in his eyes as he focused on her pert, ample breasts with their small, rosy nipples. He reached out with a finger and barely brushed against first one nipple, then the other, back and forth, until Crissy moaned with pleasure. With both hands he cupped her breasts and held them, stroked them, feathering her nipples lightly before leaning over and licking them tenderly.
