by H. M. Ward
I feel a tap on my shoulder, and both Erin and I turn around, facing the bar once more. Ricky has returned, still behind his bar, and he's gesturing to two shot glasses on the bar in front of us.
"Ladies, Sit on My Face."
Shocked, I turn to Erin. He did NOT just suggest that, did he? The look on my face must be quite something, because they both burst out laughing.
"Relax, Gina. It's the name of the drink, not an invitation." Erin takes her glass, tosses its contents back, and slams it back down on the bar.
Well, here goes nothing. I take my own glass and throw back its contents, surprised when the brownish concoction goes down smoothly. It's strong, sweet, and absolutely delicious. Despite how good it tastes, though, there is no way I am ever going to order that drink by name—ever! Ricky startles me with a loud clap of his hands, and I jump, shocked out of my thoughts.
"Okey-dokey, ladies, time to dance! I have Ted covering the bar for the next song, so who's my lucky lady?" He rubs his hands together, and Erin takes my wrist, pulling my arm above my head.
"Gina goes first!" She says all too quickly. Ricky puts both hands on the bar, and before I know it, he's airborne, jumping over the bar toward our side.
I lean in toward Erin, "Is this guy for real?"
Instead of answering me, she pushes me toward my dance partner. He takes my hand, and we make our way to the dance floor. I'm starting to get a tad nervous, because this is so new to me, but excitement overpowers my nerves and all I want to do is dance.
"So, you ever swing dance before, Gina?" Ricky yells over the music, as he pulls us to a spot close to the center of the dance floor. I straighten my shoulders and lift my chin, trying to be brave, even though I don’t know what the heck I’m doing.
"Never. I apologize ahead of time for any bodily harm inflicted. I’m a ballerina, not a Charleston chick."
Ricky laughs and pulls me into the proper position. “Well, by the time I’m done with you, you’ll be both.”
Patiently, Ricky teaches me the basic rock-step, turns, and how to dip. We pick up speed as I get the hang of it, which doesn’t take long. All styles of dance share basic concepts, it’s just a matter of learning the steps that make that style unique.
By the end of the song, we're going fast enough to break out in a sweat, and my blood is pumping rapidly in my veins. When the band stops for a break, everyone around us applauds. Ricky kisses the back of my hand and bows his head.
"You're a natural! I have to get back to the bar. I'll get you gals another drink. Come on!" He jogs all the way to the bar and jumps over it again to get back to his workstation.
Erin is sitting on her barstool, waiting for us and beaming. "That was swicked cool, Gina! I can totally see you dancing like that other couple over there." She points to the really good couple from earlier, the couple that had been doing all the impressive throws and lifts. Erin’s smile is contagious and suddenly I’m smiling, too.
"This is so much fun, Erin. Thank you so much for bringing me here!"
We hug, but are interrupted by a low voice asking, "Sit on My Face?"
Erin and I part from our hug to see Ricky, looking like a lost puppy with big eyes and pouty lips, trying to make his way into our little moment. He's also handing us each another shot. Erin and I look at each other and burst into uncontrollable laughter.
katt
YOLO & THE ASS-GRABBER
11:28 pm
The night goes on, Ricky alternating between his bartending duties—during which we are treated to more of his naughty shots—and dancing with Erin or me. His stellar teaching abilities and the large quantities of alcohol in my system work together, loosening me up and making me more daring as we progress into more difficult moves.
During one of these moves, Ricky throws my hands down and tells me to bend over and tuck my arms under my legs. He leans forward over my back, grabs my hands and before I know it, he's flipping me over, making me do a summersault in the air and landing facing him. The feeling is exhilarating! We repeat the move a couple more times during the song, and it becomes increasingly fluid.
The alcohol has definitely taken over, because, when the song is over, I try my best to meet Erin at the bar, but tables and chairs appear in my way as if by magic. It's funny how the alcohol doesn't impair my dancing, but when I try to walk in a straight line I'm a real hazard. Erin is doubled over with laughter on her barstool.
"Ha! That was awesome, Gina! Your Mom would shit her knickers if she saw you flashed your underwear like that! Nice panties, by the way. I never knew you had such a perky ass." Though I could never admit it, I’m suddenly grateful to my mother for discouraging me from wearing the padded pantyhose.
Erin is holding her side, as if she has a stitch from all the laughter. My logic thinks maybe I should be mortified by Erin’s comments, but I can’t figure out why. Everything just feels so fuzzy and warm and happy. I start to crack up and I can't stop. Erin and I both take a deep breath at the same time, trying to stop laughing, but when we look at each other, we both explode into laughter again.
I'm bent over my stool, unable to stop laughing and unable to remember why I’m laughing in the first place. My world momentarily spins a bit too fast, and I end up on the floor, on my ass, my skirt hiked up to an indecent level. Oh! That's right! I was laughing over showing everyone my panties. Oh, what the hell, I've already flashed all of these people anyway. Erin gets a worried look on her face for all of thirty seconds, before she sees I'm fine and bursts into another fit of giggles. Yeah, we're not driving ourselves home tonight. I manage to stand up and fix my skirt before sitting back down on my stool.
"You know what, Erin? To hell with it! Why should I care who saw my ass? I had fun, damn it! This is my life, and I'll do with it what I bloody well please. Besides, I’ve been told life is too short to hold back."
"Oh, hell yeah, Gina! YOLO, carpe diem and all that crap, baby girl! Now all we need to do is to get you to fly out of Mommy and Daddy’s nest. What do you say? Move in with me. I need a roommate, and you’re way too old to be living at your folk’s house anyway. C’mon. It’d be great. Please say yes!”
This isn’t the first time Erin has brought up the subject of our moving in together. When she left home, I couldn’t fathom why anyone would be in a hurry to leave the comfort of the family mansion. It’s not like we are hurting for space, at least not until recently. Over the past week, it seems like my family’s house gets smaller each day.
All that space and there is still nowhere I can go to just be me. Each room of the house somehow reminds me who I’m supposed to be, what is expected of me, and how I haven’t lived up to their expectations. My father’s voice echoes through the halls as he yells at detectives and lawyers, complaining about all the claims coming in from the injured, constantly reminding me of all the harm I’ve done to so many people. I feel myself spiraling back into my dark pit of remorse. The past week has been nothing but endless attempts at climbing out of that pit, only to be tossed back in again.
A painful grip on my chin jerks me back to the here and now. Erin searches my eyes, then slaps her hand on the bar and yells, “Ricky, we need another round pronto!” Her eyes never leave mine, but when she speaks again she lowers her voice. “Listen to me, Gina. I know what you’re thinking and you need to stop it right now. It wasn’t your fault. Do you hear me? You are not the one who started that fire.” The hand holding my chin slides up to squeeze my cheeks, making me look like a fish. She grins and adds, “Damn, you look sexy like that… is that Botox?” My eyes open wide, and we both explode into another fit of laughter. Ricky hands us our shots.
No sooner do I slam my glass back down onto the bar, than a man walks up to us. He’s fairly nice looking, tall with dark hair, and I judge him to be in his early thirties, though it's hard to say for sure in the dim lighting. He's wearing jeans and a t-shirt instead of the vintage swing clothes most of the people here are wearing. He extends a hand to me and asks, "Would you like t
o dance?"
Of course, my first thought is "I have a boyfriend," but my new self insists one dance won’t hurt. Live! Laugh! Have fun! YOLO! Carpe diem!
"Sure!" I take the guy's hand and we head toward the dance floor.
The song starts off on the slow side, but quickly picks up and in no time we are rock stepping, turning and dipping smoothly. He's not as experienced a dancer as Ricky is, but he's not bad either. He spins me out, then he spins me in, and when he wraps his arm around me for the next move, I feel his hand on my butt cheek, instead of on my lower back. Removing my hand from his shoulder, I slide his obtrusive hand back up to where it's supposed to be. He tries the move one more time, placing his most unwelcome hand on my ass, and I firmly slide it up on my lower back again. The guy is really starting to get on my nerves. There’s harmless flirting and then there’s repetitive ass grabbing. I’m pretty sure this crosses the line.
We go for a dip and he takes a lick at my neck. All right, that's enough! After he straightens me from the dip, he spins me in close to him only to spin me back out again. I'm anticipating his next move, and there is no way he's going to enjoy it. As soon as my arm reaches full extension, he's going to snap me back into him and my knee will be ready to meet his junk. I smirk at my plan and can't wait to see the look on his face when I do it.
To my surprise, he miscalculates his spin and I end up smacking my face into a wall—a warm, yummy-smelling wall. Since when do walls have arms? This wall has arms, and they are wrapped around me tightly. I feel Ass-Grabber release my hand and I look up. I don’t know if I want to smile like an idiot or push away. Blue eyes look down at me, and a beautiful mouth turns up into a wicked grin.
It's Pete, and he's even more beautiful than I remembered him being, if that's possible.
That sinful voice penetrates the noise, making my stomach flip. "Mind if I cut in?"
COMING SOON:
LIFE BEFORE DAMAGED 3
THE FERRO FAMILY
***
To ensure you don’t miss H.M. Ward’s next book, text AWESOMEBOOKS (one word) to 22828 and you will get an email reminder on release day.
*****
Want to talk to other fans?
Go to Facebook and join the discussion!
MORE FERRO FAMILY BOOKS
NICK FERRO
~THE WEDDING CONTRACT~
*****
BRYAN FERRO
~THE PROPOSITION~
*****
SEAN FERRO
~THE ARRANGEMENT~
******
PETER FERRO GRANZ
~DAMAGED~
******
JONATHAN FERRO
~STRIPPED~
******
MORE ROMANCE BY H.M. WARD
SCANDALOUS
SCANDALOUS 2
SECRETS
THE SECRET LIFE OF TRYSTAN SCOTT
DEMON KISSED
CHRISTMAS KISSES
SECOND CHANCES
And more.
To see a full book list, please visit:
www.sexyawesomebooks.com/#!/BOOKS
CAN'T WAIT FOR H.M. WARD'S NEXT STEAMY BOOK?
****
Let her know by leaving stars and telling her what you liked about
LIFE BEFORE DAMAGED 2
in a review!
COVER REVEAL:
