Covered in paint, I quickly flipped her over until we were both flat on our backs and laughing, our clothes, hair, even our shoes splattered in paint. We looked over at each other. Annie was my best friend, the one who could always make me feel better. She took her little finger and painted my face some more.
“Pierce!”
I shot up, hearing the rough voice of my father, but I knew he wasn’t mad. Unlike my friends’ dads, he never got mad at me. Guess he wasn’t around enough. He walked over, smiling down at me and Annie. “See you next week, okay?” he said, and I nodded. Then he elbowed me. “She’s cute.”
My nose wrinkled up. She’s not cute. She’s Annie. Chuckling, he got in his car.
“Hey, that doesn’t look so bad,” Annie said, looking down at our painting.
CHAPTER SIX
Day four without sex—I don’t have this.
“Are you alright?” Annie asks as we walk through the courtyard of the hotel going over final preparations for an upcoming wedding.
The lack of female company must be messing with my mind. I feel like an addict in withdrawal. I am literally shaking from lack of pussy. “Fine.”
She takes hold of my elbow. “You’ve been snappy all morning. What’s going on?”
I yank my elbow away and continue to walk, talking about alternate locations if the weather doesn’t cooperate. Annie feverishly types on her tablet. “Don’t forget to call about the . . .”
“Hang on one sec. You’re talking a mile a minute.”
“Damn it, keep up!” I squeeze my eyes shut, catching myself and feeling immediately contrite for being a dick. “Annie, I’m sorry.”
She gets in my face—all five feet of her. “Don’t think you can shit on me just because your dick is hungry. I mean, I’ve heard of being hangry, but this is sexgry.”
“Sorry.”
“Jesus, you get grumpy when you don’t get any.”
“I said I’m sorry.”
“Did you hear about The Brittany?” Annie asks. “The owner died over the weekend.”
My mind starts to spin, wondering if the place will go up for sale.
“It’s so weird. We were just there.” Annie looks up at me. “Pierce, I know what you’re thinking. The man just died.”
“Still, maybe I should drop by there one night after work for a drink. Maybe pay my respects.” Maybe see Sutton again, although I know that wouldn’t be good for my diet. Annie flashes me a smile, loving that I’m ruthless. “You should come with me,” I say. “Be my date, so I won’t look suspicious.”
“I’d like that.” She reaches into a folder, holding out a check. “Speaking of, this is the final for Daphne. Takes care of the car insurance, kids’ tuition, and pays out the rent on her condo for the next three months. The number look alright?”
I take the check from her and nod. My relationship with Daphne summed up into a few thousand dollars. This part always makes me sad. Why do women always have to change the rules? We could have continued to be perfectly happy. I take a deep breath. Maybe she wasn’t all that happy.
Annie takes the check back from me. “I’ll lock this in the safe before I leave.”
I give her another nod. It’s already late. I finish up a few details then walk to my office, a sudden heaviness falling over me. Am I missing her? I know I’m not. All I’m missing is having a warm body, someone there when I want to fuck. I haven’t really been alone in, well . . . ever really. As soon as one relationship ends, I always have another woman waiting in the wings. Unfortunately, this time the other woman is a crazy old shrink with a sex diet.
One thing is for sure—without women around, I am getting a lot more work done. I can rule the world in no time as long as I remain celibate. I think that may actually be the secret to business success. I hear the door open.
“Annie, go home. It’s late. Whatever you forgot can wait until . . .” I look up, finding Daphne standing in my doorway.
*
I didn’t make it.
Okay, before the judgments start, let me just say that goodbye sex shouldn’t really count. I mean, how was I supposed to say no to her? Daphne came by to pick up her check, and one thing led to another, and before I knew it, she was straddling me in my office chair. We didn’t even get undressed. That’s another reason why it shouldn’t count. You should have to be totally naked for it to count. I need to clarify that with the good doctor. So why am I sweating bullets sitting on her sofa again?
Dr. Lorraine takes her seat across from me. “You had sex.”
“How’d you know?”
“You look guilty.”
“Well, I don’t feel guilty.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Really?”
I cross my arms. “No, not at all.”
“Interesting. How long did you make it?”
“Last night, so four days. Guess I’ve only got twenty-four more to go until I’m free.”
“How do you figure that?” she asks.
“Twenty-eight days in a month, and I’ve abstained for four.”
“You can’t just choose February,” she says, smiling. “Thirty days is the average month.”
“Fine, twenty-six days. I’ll be done before you know it, then you’ll have to release me from therapy.”
She leans back in her chair. “The deal was thirty consecutive days. Today is back to day one.”
“No, no, no. You can’t change the rules on me.”
She pulls out her “prescription” from my file and shows me where she’d written consecutive days. “Well, I didn’t realize that, so I think I should get credit for the four that I’ve done.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“You aren’t going to give me credit, are you?”
“Nope. So how were the first four days?”
“Not so bad.”
“You don’t get points for lying,” she says.
“Fine, it was absolute hell.”
“It will get easier,” she says.
“Or I’ll get callouses.”
“How was the masturbation?”
“Um, do you want details?”
“No, I’m familiar with the process. I’m wondering if it was different in any way.”
“Kind of. You said something at the end of our last session. You said no porn because I have plenty of memories. Remember that?” I say, and she nods. “But the thing is—I don’t.”
She leans forward, and something about that simple motion seems ominous. “You don’t remember sex?”
“No, I do, but nothing specific. You know how something happens, and you can go over it and over it in your mind?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t do that with sex,” I say.
“Not with one single woman? Not one encounter sticks out?”
“No, I mean, I can remember that it was good, or where it was or even how we did it, but nothing else.”
“Let’s try something,” she says.
My stomach clenches. “Okay.”
“You had sex yesterday, right?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
“Describe it.”
“Out loud?” I ask.
“Yes, in as much detail as possible.”
“I don’t think I’m supposed to kiss and tell.”
“What was she wearing?” she asks.
“A skirt and blouse.”
“Color? Fabric?”
I look away. “Not sure. Come to think of it, it was a dress.”
“Are you sure?”
“No, not really,” I say.
“But you know it wasn’t pants.”
“She hiked it up and straddled me, so yeah, I know that much.”
“How’d she smell?” Dr. Lorraine asks.
“No idea.”
“How’d she taste?” she asks. “I assume you kissed her.”
“Yeah, but she . . . Don’t think she had a taste.”
“You’ve been with this woman before?”
“Yes.”
/>
“How’d she ever taste?” she asks.
“She doesn’t.”
“Did she have on lipstick?”
“Yeah, she wiped my lips after,” I say.
“What color was it?”
“I don’t have a clue.”
“Did you come?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Did she?”
“Yes, I don’t leave women unsatisfied, as a rule.”
“Very kind of you,” she says. “What did she say when she came? Did she call out your name? Was she quiet?”
“God and my name, I think.”
“What did you eat for breakfast before coming here this morning?”
“Eggs, bacon, toast. The usual.”
“Close your eyes,” she says, and I’m sure I’m giving a look of uncertainty because she says again. “Close your eyes. Go ahead.” I shake my head a little then slowly close them, no clue what she’s about to do to me. “What color is my dress?”
“You’re not wearing a dress. You have on navy pants that look almost black. A white blouse that looks like silk but it’s not.”
“Keep your eyes closed. My shoes?”
“Red flats with a silver buckle on the top.”
“Open your eyes,” she says.
I look over at her. I got her outfit right down to the shiny buckle. “What the hell does this mean?”
“What do you think it means?” she asks.
I shrug, having no idea why I can remember in detail what she has on, but not the women I’ve had sex with. “It’s probably because you’re more recent in my mind.”
“Or maybe this is more meaningful to you, so you remember it in greater detail.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Perhaps these sessions are more intimate.”
I hold up my hands. This is insane. Talking to this head case of a doctor more intimate than being balls deep?
CHAPTER SEVEN
The sex diet—back to day one.
Opening the door to my office, I’m hit with a flurry of papers. Annie is moving, lifting, and shuffling everything in and on her desk. The paper storm is so bright I almost didn’t notice the strapless little dress she has on. Almost! I wonder if there’s a new man in her life. Her clothes have gone from comfortable casual to jaw dropping in a week flat. Her eyes catch mine, and a tear rolls down her cheek.
“Please don’t fire me,” she says quietly.
“What are you talking about?” I say and take her hand. “Annie, you know I’d never fire you.”
She leans her head on my chest, and I wrap one arm around her. “I lost some of your money.”
I lean back on her desk and tilt her chin up. She’s in a state already, and I don’t need to make her feel worse. I’m sure whatever happened was an accident. Annie would never steal from me or hurt me intentionally. “How much?”
“The check for Daphne,” she whispers. “I know I locked it in the office safe, but it’s not here. I was going to deliver it to her today.”
The check for Daphne isn’t that much money. It certainly isn’t going to break me. Annie knows that. “I gave it to Daphne last night,” I say. “You didn’t lose anything.”
Her head lifts, and she takes a step back. “Daphne was here last night? With you? In here? Alone?”
“She stopped by for the check.” And goodbye sex, but Annie doesn’t need to know that.
She looks down at her dress, running her hands along the fabric. “Well, that’s a relief. At least I didn’t lose it. Please tell me next time if you take something big like that out of the safe. I was worried sick.”
“Sorry, I should’ve told you.” She gives me a little nod and starts to clean up the mess on her desk. Damn, she looks disappointed or sad or pissed or relieved. I really can’t tell. Maybe it’s all of them. From the array of emotions to the outfit, she is obviously going through something. “So, we still on for tonight?” I ask. “Checking out The Brittany?”
She looks up briefly and motions to her outfit. “Why else would I be dressed like this?”
The sarcasm is my cue to get the hell out of dodge. I escape to the safety of my office and keep myself busy for the rest of the day. By six, I’m ready to head out.
It’s a nice evening and the other hotel is only a few blocks away, so Annie and I decide to walk. My romp with Daphne having worn off hours ago, I can feel the sexual tension mounting in my body. I hope the walk and fresh air will cool me down a bit.
“So how do you want to play this?” Annie asks.
“I just want to see the state of the place. Look around a little.”
“And I’m supposed to act like your girlfriend?”
I raise an eyebrow at her as we stop in front of the four-story building, a small boutique hotel like mine, nestled on the outskirts of the French Quarter. The location is prime. Close enough to the action, but far enough that you don’t get any of the noise. Or smells, for that matter. The outside is in good shape, doesn’t need much to restore it completely.
Annie slips her hand into mine. I look down at our intertwined fingers then up into her smile. “Ready to play?” I ask.
She gives me a nod, and I open the door for her. As we head inside, I immediately see a ton of work that needs to be done in the lobby alone. The floors are cracked and in need of polishing, if not replacement. The carpet is torn in certain places. The decor is from the eighties, I think, or maybe the seventies, or a combination of both.
How can someone market this place? My hotel is impeccable. The only modern things about this place are the front desk employees’ uniforms—steel blue and just tight enough to be sexy without being totally inappropriate. It’s an interesting choice, and whoever made it is pushing the envelope and ignoring standard industry practices.
We make our way through the lobby, toward a small bar leading into a restaurant. It isn’t in much better shape. The number of people hanging around doesn’t at all match the ailing atmosphere of the place. “Are they giving the rooms away for free?” Annie whispers, taking a seat on a torn leather barstool.
I stand beside her, and Annie taps my hand. “Stop eyeing everything. You look so obvious,” she says. “There’s a woman behind the concierge desk staring.” I glance that way, and sure enough, a smoking hot female is focused right on us.
Annie turns around in her chair and plays with my necktie. “We should play the part.”
I shift my attention to Annie, and she leans up and nuzzles my neck. She doesn’t kiss me, but her warm breath is enough to cause my body to heat. I run my hand around her neck and pull her mouth within an inch of mine. Her legs spread just slightly, but enough for me to notice. Enough for me to know that her body is into this. My dick certainly is, now pressing against my pants. I take her by the hips and pull her a little tighter, and sweet Jesus, she actually purrs.
“Excuse me,” the smoking hot female says, tapping my shoulder. “Are you guests of the hotel?”
Shit! We’ve blown our cover! Annie’s eyes are wide, and I’m not sure if it’s because we were caught or because of what almost happened between us. The last thing I need is for my competitors to get wind that I’m interested in the place. Better to keep a low profile. “Yes, we are guests. Is there a problem?”
She smiles politely at us. “No problem,” she says. “It’s nice to see a couple so enamored with each other, but that’s what the rooms are for.”
“Oh, we are so sorry,” Annie says, her skin bright red. “My boyfriend gets carried away.”
“Hard not to with you, honey,” I say, throwing up a little in my mouth. Do couples really talk this way? “We’ll take it upstairs.”
“Thank you,” she says.
Annie’s finger walks up my abs. “Damn, that was close,” she whispers.
I’m not sure if she’s talking about getting caught or us getting it on. Either way, I can’t have her touching me anymore. This is Annie, and Annie is off limits. Sure, she’s great and has a nice body, but
she is also my right hand. I can’t lose her over a roll in the sheets. I take her hand. “Let’s get out of here.”
“We said we were going upstairs,” Annie says. “It will look odd if we leave now.”
“Let’s take the elevator up and look around. Maybe we can get a glimpse inside a room or two.”
Waiting at the elevator bank, Annie looks up at me and asks, “You ready to do this again? Practically rebuild a hotel from the ground up?”
I cock a sideways smile. A new challenge sounds good right about now. My place runs like a well-oiled machine at this point, thanks to an incredible staff, and unlike this clunky old elevator, which seems to be taking forever. The doors finally open, but the ride up is so slow, I could’ve run up and down the stairs twice at least. We get off on two of the three floors, but we can’t look in any rooms. Most have the “do not disturb” sign out. It’s too late in the day to even catch a maid cleaning. The remaining floor is under construction, and you need a special room key to access it anyway. We get back in the elevator and head back down.
“Do you think we were up here long enough?” Annie asks. “It’s only been like ten minutes.”
“Can have sex in less than that,” I say.
“I know that, Pierce.” She turns to me and reaches for my necktie, loosening it. She undoes my top few buttons and reaches up, running her hands through my hair. “There, now you look like you just fucked me.”
“But you don’t look like you’ve been fucked by me.”
Her eyebrows raise. “How would I look if I’d been fucked by you?”
“Like a woman with a sexual harassment complaint,” I say and take a huge step away from her.
The elevator dings, and I hold the door for her without making eye contact. She intertwines our fingers, and we walk out of the hotel, the smoking hot concierge nowhere to be found. It looks like an easy getaway. As soon as my shoes hit the pavement, I release her hand, but she grabs it back, giving it a little tug.
To the Fall Page 4
