by Henley, Jo
“So where to?” he asked, buckling his seatbelt.
Now she had a puzzle. Where am I going with him? To my parent’s guest house? I’d have to walk him past my parent’s bedroom window. Does he want to come inside? I’d like to, but what is he expecting?
“So. . . I’m just going to start the engine.”
She’d spent too much time in her thoughts and taken too long to answer. “Sorry, I live across the street from Bill.”
“That’s easy enough.” He backed out of the parking space and turned left onto the road.
“It’s with my parent’s, but only temporary.”
“I get it. Julie went home to her mother’s after the divorce.”
“Does she still. . .” She started to ask then changed her mind. “No matter, I don’t need to know.”
“Exes. We agreed not to talk about them.”
Since the tone of the night had already been set outside the truck, Liz slid across the bench seat next to Oscar. “You don’t mind do you?” She snuggled close, holding her fantasy close in her thoughts on the ride home. She kept her head on his shoulder and her hands to herself even though she desperately wanted to caress his thigh.
Stopping at the curb, Oscar parked in front of Bill’s, across from Liz’s. “This is it.”
“It sure is. That’s me back there.” She pointed down the driveway to the small house at the end. “Oscar. I couldn’t imagine I could ever find someone like you. Now I’m sitting here in your truck.”
“I’m glad you are.” He traced along her jawline and caressed her cheek with his thumb. “I know we just met, but I already don’t want to let you go.”
“Then don’t.” She closed her eyes and leaned into his kiss. Passion fueled fast and hard. His lips didn’t linger long on hers, instead they jumped quickly to her breasts. He fumbled to unbutton her blouse and she helped, undoing the buttons from the bottom up.
His cool hands cupped over the lace of her bra. His warm lips captured a nipple and sucked. She gasped from his bite and flinched her hand to his thigh.
“Oh,” she moaned, sliding her hand up and over the bulge of his cock stiffening in his pants. She squeezed at the base, inched her grip to the head and squeezed again. “Tell me to stop.”
“You first.” He wedged his hand between her thighs and stroked. “Tell me to.”
“I can’t.” She worked harder to free his manhood. She’d just tickled his flesh in her grip. His size was undetermined, but his excitement was obvious. She had to have an orgasm with this man tonight.
He bit her on the neck as she crushed on his dick. “I want you,” he moaned.
Her irresistible, low, back of the throat giggle, echoed in his ear. “Hmm, mmmm. Take me.”
A knock on the passenger window stopped their heat, cold. Bill opened the door and poked his head in the cab. “Oh my bad.” He took a good look inside. His eyes bulged at the sight of their positions. “Carry on.”
“What the hell?” Liz covered her chest. Oscar rolled off and tucked his package back in his pants.
“I said carry on.” Bill stumbled back away from the truck.
His interruption offered clarity to the situation. Making out in the street wasn’t like her and it wasn’t the way she wanted to give herself to Oscar. Liz had cooled down. But what Bill said next fired her back up.
“Did Chris find you?” Bill asked.
“You? You told him I was at the Buckeye!” She turned sharply and scooted over to the edge of the seat. She was half hanging out the door waiting for his answer.
“He was at your parents house looking for you. Said it was important,” he said, clearly overly tipsy and barely standing upright in the yard.
“Damn, you Bill!” Liz bounded out of the truck and shoved him to the ground. She lunged on top of him, straddling his torso. With her blouse still open she leaned down into his face, close enough to smell the alcohol on his breath. “The first time! The first time!” she growled.
“Hey!” Oscar raced around to help. He held back his help when he realized Liz was in control, with Bill pinned to the ground.
“You set all this up. You led me to the Buckeye. Introduce me to this fantasy of love, then throw my ex in my face.”
“Liz?” Oscar tried to calm her down, by placing a hand on her shoulder.
She jerked away and got off Bill. “You know what? I’m not ready.” She covered her face. She couldn’t look at Oscar and say what she needed to. “This is a sign. We need to slow down.” She backed away to the curb. “Forget tonight.”
She ran across the street, but hesitated in her driveway. She glanced back. It was just like the first moment she saw Oscar. His unintentional seductive glance in her direction. But this time she saw the real man behind the smile.
“It’s a dream,” she told herself crying as she ran the rest of the way down the driveway to her house. “Tomorrow I’ll wake up, still married, and alone. Oscar will never forgive me. And all because of him. Damn you, Bill.”
Chapter Twenty Three
Liz was just as confused about Oscar in the morning as she was the night before. Did last night really happen? Did I throw myself at Oscar and run away half finished? Damn, Liz what were you thinking?
She’d called in to the office, choosing to work from home with her laptop. Marla had already texted, so Liz gave the excuse of having a hard time dealing with Chris. It wasn’t far from the truth.
Even a shower couldn’t shake the feeling of what an awful mess she’d made. Of course this all wouldn’t have happened without Bill. She dried off and wrapped a towel around herself. Wandering out to the living room, Liz glared out the front window and across the street. It was only nine and Bill would certainly still be asleep, but he deserved a wake-up call after his stunt last night. After I kill him, then I’ll ask his advice on how to repair things with Oscar. But first I’m going for his junk.
Crossing the street to Bill’s was about as formal as eating at her parents, so she slipped on some yoga pants and a sweatshirt. “Hello, Mr. Collins,” she said when the door opened. There was a game playing on the television and Bill’s dad was in his plaid pajama bottoms and a blue football team jersey.
“Who’s that dear?” Mrs. Collins asked from the kitchen. She peeped around the corner wiping her hands on a dish towel. Game ready too, she was in a blue sweatsuit with stars and silver pin stripes.
“Liz, honey, I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” She rushed to the door and shooed her husband out of the way. He returned to his recliner and the game on the TV set.
“Come, you must be hungry.” She lead the way to the kitchen. “Bill’s not up yet, but this gives us a chance to talk. Help me with the bacon, dear.”
Mmmm, bacon. Bill’s mom dropped a slab into a hot pan. Each piece sizzled as Liz separated them with the spatula. She flipped the pieces one by one, mesmerized with the smell and only half listening to the ramblings of Mrs. Collins, an oversized woman in her late sixties with a hair cut too short for her plump face.
“I know you’ve been living alone and your divorce is almost final . . .” She continued talking while cracking a half dozen eggs in a skillet. “You shouldn’t be ashamed,” she continued, taking over the bacon form Liz and handing her a stack of plates. “You’re young. Don’t stop looking for another man.”
“I have my eyes open,” Liz said, walking around and setting the table.
“Not my Billy. Set your sights higher.”
“We’re just friends.” Liz took the platter of bacon and set it on the table.
“Good. Good.” Mrs. Collins stirred the eggs vigorously with a spatula. “Can you find the juice, dear?”
“Sure.” She turned to the fridge and Mrs. Collins kept talking.
“A good man is hard to find, but the best men are hard when you find them.”
“Excuse me?” Liz turned around. Was she talking about sex? She handed her the juice and in exchange Liz was handed an empty glass.
“Ice, dear,�
�� the homemaker continued talking as Liz filled the glass. “A good man rides you all night, and keeps you aching for more in the morning.”
What did she just say? Her face heated up even as she held onto the ice cube tray. “Is this enough ice?” She managed to get out, trying to avert the conversation away from sex.
“From one married woman to another, you shouldn’t forsake yourself now that you’re divorced. Fulfill your urges and not by yourself, only a man can . . .”
“Mmmm, bacon,” Mr. Collins interrupted, entering the room. “No one makes bacon like my little piglet here.” He pinched Mrs. Collins’ ass.
She let out a squeal and snorted, shimming against her husband.
Thoughts of them fulfilling urges in bed mixed with baby pigs rushed into Liz’s thoughts and she had to get out of there. “I’ll wake up Bill.”
“Sure sweetie, tell him breakfast is on the table. We’ll keep it warm,” she giggled, receiving a nuzzle on her neck.
Liz ran up the back stairs trying not to imagine just how they would keep breakfast warm. She took the steps two at a time, putting as much distance between herself and Mrs. Collins urges.
At the top, she turned right and barged into Bill’s room. Whether it was the incident from downstairs or just habit Liz woke him up like she did when they were seventeen, by running her hand under the covers and up his thigh.
He twisted and jerked away from her. “Cold hands Dina.”
“Its not Dina.”
“Liz. What are you doing here?” He rolled and stretched. “Looking for a morning boner to hop on?”
“Let’s see. Is yours worth the hop?” She flung back the covers, but he caught them before he could be exposed. “Nope.”
“Hey, damn. Why are you here?”
“Breakfast? Your mom and dad are keeping it warm.” Her remark went over his head. He obviously had never had the ‘married lady talk’ with his mom.
“Mmmm, bacon.”
“Oh crap!” Thoughts of Bill’s parents and their urges returned. “You know what? I’m here as payback for last night.”
“Can you give me a minute? Or better yet, just take your shirt off.” Bill grabbed at his dick under the blanket.
“You’re such an ass. Go piss it away.”
“Are you sure? It’ll be more fun if you just play along.”
She didn’t answer only averted her eyes and pointed to the adjacent bathroom door.
“No wonder Chris left,” he yelled out over the sound of his stream in the toilet. “Morning favors are the glue of a good marriage.”
“How would you know? Did your parents teach you that?”
“No, gross.” Bill emerged from the bathroom, a little more relaxed. He pulled on a pair of jean shorts and a wrinkled shirt from a pile of clothes at the end of the bed. “Was Chris too big for you? Is that why you left?”
“Far from it. Do you compare sizes? No don’t tell me.”
“Hey, you know me. I’m not gay. I just look when I pee.”
“I came to rant about last night.”
“What? I apologized. You jumped on top of me.”
Liz slugged him in the arm. “You shouldn’t of opened the door.”
“I was only protecting you. I know you like Oscar. I knew that was his truck.” Bill walked over to search for something on his nightstand. “If it was another woman you’d want me to interrupt.”
“Shit Bill, you’re always in the wrong place at the wrong time.” She fell back on the bed and stared up at the rock posters on the ceiling that’d been pinned up there since high school. “And you sent Chris to the Buckeye. I don’t need him knowing my business. That place. Oscar. It was mine without Chris. And you let him in. You never stop meddling in my life.”
Bill didn’t react to her accusation. It was as if he wasn’t listening. “Hey.” Liz flung her arm out, hitting him on the shin, which was all she could reach since he was sitting on his nightstand.
“Yeah, sorry about all of whatever you were saying. Did you want another chance with Oscar?”
“What are you talking about?”
“His truck’s outside.”
“Serious?” She bolted up and flung herself at the headboard. She flew open the curtains behind Bill. His room faced the front of the house and the street, where Oscar’s red pickup was parked at the curb. “Why is—he—here? Why is he here?”
“Let’s find out.” Before she could stop him, Bill opened the window and yelled “Hey Buddy!”
“Shit! Don’t do that.” She jumped back, releasing the sheer panel. But she could still see clear enough through the panel to see Oscar waving up from the street. Damn, he looks sexy in the morning. With no where to hide, she bunched the curtains to one side, tapped on the glass and wiggled her fingers down to him. His face lit up and he blew her a small kiss. “Stall him.”
“Don’t move,” Bill said to Oscar.
Liz slipped into the bathroom to check her hair and noticed her outfit, practically pajamas and she was at Bill’s house. How could this situation get worse? Meet a good looking bartender, catch his attention, reject him, then get caught in pajamas at another man’s house. Unbelievable.
“Did you say these are clean?” She threw off her sweatshirt and picked out a button down plaid shirt.
“Now we’re talking. A threesome,” Bill said, nodding his head.
The doorbell rang. She was out of time.
“Come on up,” Bill yelled out the window.
She picked up a well worn sandal and pummeled Bill upside the head as hard as she could. “Grow up.” She went to the window to yell at Oscar not to come up, but he was already inside. “Damn you,” she expelled to Bill, racing out the bedroom door, furiously buttoning the shirt and fumbling down the front stairs. She emerged at the bottom where Oscar was listening to Mr. Collins rave about the game on the television.
“What a surprise. After last night I . . .What are you doing here?”
“Did I interrupt something?” he questioned, tugging on the plaid shirt, she’d buttoned crooked.
“With Bill? No, his mom makes great bacon.” She pushed him toward the door. “Funny story. I’ll tell you about it outside.” She laced her arm in his and pushed him out the doorway. “Bye Bill,” she yelled, exiting and allowing the door to shut behind them on it’s own.
Chapter Twenty Four
Oscar was more than surprised to find Liz at Bill’s. If he had to guess, Bill had to have a hangover. He found it a little hot that Liz would confront him in that state. By this point, it was mid-morning since an unexpected business call woke him at seven.
“Sorry about last night.” Liz wrung her hands up near her chest. “I don’t know which part I’m more embarrassed about. Before or after Bill interrupted us.”
“Completely understandable. No worries.” Oscar walked Liz across the street to his truck. He pulled out a huge bouquet of mixed blooms. “Do these say I hope we’re still on the same page?”
Liz took the flowers and inhaled the sweet aroma. “They’re beautiful.”
“I hoped you’d think so.” He took her hand in his and swung it back and forth. What he had to say next was awkward and he hoped the flowers would stop her from hating him. “I know this is bad timing, but I have to go out of town on business for a few days.”
“Oh—out of town? Not for the Buckeye I guess.” He witched at her accusation that the Buckeye was his only job. “Of course you have something else,” she backpedalled. “Bartending isn’t your only job. You’re part time.”
“I thought that was clear. This trip is unavoidable and will likely be boring. I own some property that I have to go check on.” He pulled her in for a hug, even though she kept the flowers between them. “I have your number. I’ll call you later today.”
“Yeah, well I’m going to go put these in a vase.” She thumbed over her shoulder.
This wasn’t the bye he anticipating leaving her with. He kept her close, rubbed his cheek against hers, and she lean
ed into his lips. Their kiss was comfortable. He wanted it to be more, but understood why she was holding back. “Well.” He slipped his hand in the driver’s door handle and opened it. She stepped back. Now the door was between them. “I’ll keep in touch.” To his delight, she leaned around and kissed him once more.
“Have a safe trip. They really are beautiful.” She cradled the bouquet closer.
“So are you.” He winked and hopped in the truck.
The drive to the airport was long. The image from his rear view mirror of Liz standing in her yard with the flowers stayed with him all the way. He wished he could’ve taken Liz with him this time, but how could he explain a private jet ride to Las Vegas. Why am I hiding this from her? Grant’s right. She should be with me on this trip. He struggled with his dilemma, which didn’t diminish even at thirty six thousand feet.
After landing at the McCarran airport, Oscar’s travel assistant escorted him to the limousine. “How have you been sir?” Faith, the slim assistant asked.
“Well, thank you.” Oscar twisted out of the dinner jacket he had exchanged his jeans jacket for. “Does it ever cool down here?”
“Not until January sir,” Faith answered, looking up from her tablet. “I see you’re booked at the Hilton off the strip. Will you be needing tickets to any shows while you’re in town?”
“It’s just business this time. Do you know if Mr. Chaplain has touched down?”
Faith tapped and swiped on her tablet. “He arrived last night. Should we reroute to the restaurant?”
“No, but if we could head to the bank I’d like to take care of some business there first before checking into the hotel.” He hated traveling with cash, but he hated paying with cards even more.
“Fine sir.” Faith picked up a phone receiver in the wall of the vehicle. “Make a stop at the bank first,” she said, her voice echoing from the front seat.
