Cherry Blossoms

by KT Morrison

  Krista snuck him a Xanax, at least what she told him was a Xanax, and he got his shit together in short time. One embarrassing hiccup, but the rest of the day he’d batted a thousand. He didn’t let anybody down.

  Odie charmed the producers, handily won over Winnie. It had been an incredible day. Odie fawned over Laetitia’s three-year old. Laetitia fawned over Odie. They’d made lasting impressions in New York, but it was back to the grind on Monday. He and Odie had a book to finish before she went back to school.

  Odie was out on the dance floor with Kelly and Trish, the two of them shaking it with a bellyful of drinks. Having a good and carefree time with their niece. She had smiles right now but it was her bedtime and the day had been a wild one for that little girl. She’d been on national television. She’d met with editors about the book, met celebrities (granted, she had no clue who they were), been wined and dined by some wealthy elites (milkshaked and dined in her case). Danced and boogied, bubbled and sang—she would hit the wall soon and when she did he imagined he’d have to carry her lifeless body over his shoulder.

  He nudged Tim with his elbow, said, “Think I better get her pointed to bed. Maybe the two that are with her too.” Trish and Kelly both dancing in heels and tight dresses, their hands up over their heads.

  Tim squeezed his shoulder and let him go tend to his family. He made his way through the dancing throng and set his drink down at the table where they’d been sitting. His mom wasn’t there, made him worry if she was off getting herself in trouble somewhere, complaining to Krista about something or other. She’d had quite the day too. Not hands-on like Odie, but more of a passive ride through her son’s recent success. She didn’t know who Laetitia Lily was but she sure as shit watched Winnie. He’d like for Connie to come around, loosen up, live a little, but he wouldn’t press her on it.

  Kelly and Odie were holding each other’s hands, staccato dance movement in the flashing bright white lights. Winslow had crept into the picture. Liquored up and happy, glassy-eyed from free Vodka Tonics. He was grinding behind Trish and Trish was egging him on. He laughed, watched flashes of Odie’s ecstatic face but a looming unconsciousness winking there in her black eyes. He danced to them, grabbed Trish from behind, hip-bumping Winslow, making her jump and laugh. She danced with him, turning and shimmying. His sister was so lucky to have Trish’s happiness in her life. They made such a good couple and his sister was a transformed woman since she left her husband and found someone who understood her and cherished her. Winslow moved on to dance with Kelly.

  Odie clung to her dad’s leg, weighing down his expert dance moves. He caressed her hair. She hugged him, her feet going on his, and her face turned down to the flashing floor. The kid equivalent of having one too many, she looked inebriated. He squat down and she hugged him, her eyes closed, making him laugh. He stood with her, held her up on his chest and danced with Trish and Kelly for a moment, swaying his crashing daughter. His head nodded towards Odie, showing the girls he had to take care of her. He left the dance floor and they followed.

  The hotel where they were staying was across the street and down the block. He’d have to take an Uber. They congregated in a quieter hall off the restaurant in a brick room with a chandelier above their heads that was vintage bulbs strung on barbed wire through an old rusted farm sleigh. He set Odie’s butt down on a marble mantle, on the end, away from a roaring fire. She hunched and kicked her legs, awake, but her eyes were closed. His iPhone was fished from his pocket and he brought the screen awake.

  “You guys can stay,” he said to them over his shoulder. They sipped their drinks, still swaying lightly to the music they could hear coming in from the function. Winslow sauntered from the dance floor, dancing for her and saying “Odiee-ee.”

  Odie revitalized, the time of three heartbeats, eyes happy, then falling sleepy again by the time her Winslow made it to the mantle.

  “We want to dance with Laetitia,” Kelly said.

  Winslow said, “Oh my God. You imagine? Want me to film you?”

  Geoff shook his head, laughing, said, “Stay, stay. Have fun.”

  “No, Geoff, it’s your party.”

  “You seen Mom?” he said, opening the Uber app.

  Kelly hugged him from behind, putting her cocktail up on the mantle next to Odie who was weaving. “You blew her away today, buddy.”

  “Really?” he said, turning to her.

  “She said so. She snuck off after dinner, but I think you made her cry.”

  “Cry?”

  “Oh, like happy,” she said. “For once,” she added with a big laugh.

  “I walked her to the hotel,” Winslow said.

  Geoff said, “You did? Where was I?”

  “You were with Tim, maybe Krista, I think. I walked her down.” He looked around conspiratorially, said, “She held my arm the whole way, like arm in arm? She babbled non-stop about you...”

  “She didn’t...”

  Winslow imitated his mother, “Oh, and did you see when Winnie held my Geoff’s hand, she’s so wonderful, Oh, did you see Odie draw the dinosaur, Oh, did you see...”

  Geoff said, “Aww,” and he held the phone to his stomach. “Are you serious?”

  Winslow nodded with enthusiasm, his lips tightened on a cocktail straw as he drained his highball down to the ice cubes.

  Odie tapped him, gripped his jacket arm, high, by his shoulder. She said, “Daddy, I miss mommy.”

  “I know you do, baby. I know you do...”

  “She would have had fun tonight,” she said in a tired voice.

  “I know, sweetheart,” he said, and he ran her hair back off her face, smoothed it over her shoulders and pressed his forehead to hers. Kelly ran her hand over his back in circles.

  A pretty, cultured voice behind them said, “You’re not leaving, are you?”

  Krista made her way to them from the wide archway that lead to the dining and dancing area. Tonight she wore makeup, looking quite different than the staid but intimidating Ivy League she usually gave off. She had black around her eyes, and deep red on her lips. Some sort of Hermés top in silk and a black wool skirt. Her hair was down and it made her far more fearsome than she was when she dressed for business.

  “I’ve got to get somebody to bed,” he said, shrugging a shoulder at his sleeping little girl.

  Krista slid between Kelly and Trish and she got an arm over his shoulder, her other hand poised with a glass of white wine.

  “What did you think of your brother today?” she asked Kelly.

  “I was glad to see him get what he deserved.”

  “He’s a good guy?” Krista smiled.

  Kelly said, “The best.”

  “Okay, all right,” he said.

  “And this one,” Krista said, turning and resting a hand on Odie’s thigh.

  “Wasn’t she great?” Geoff said, holding her other thigh.

  “Give me the word, Geoff. I’ll have her an agent on Monday.”

  Odie nodded, eyebrows high, mouth smiling, but eyes still half closed.

  “Oh, man. She’s tough to handle now. God, a little bit of fame…she’ll be unmanageable.”

  “Hey,” Odie said, frowning sleepily. “I want an agent.”

  Geoff rolled his eyes for everyone. “Go to sleep,” he said, wiping his hand down her face.

  “You didn’t bring your girlfriend, Geoff?” Krista said. “You were seeing an editor...”

  “We tried a couple times. It didn’t work,” he said.

  “You’re here by yourself? Too bad. Laetitia is having a private party, I was going to say we should go to that.”

  “She’s leaving her own party here?”

  “That’s how it’s done, Geoff,” Krista said.

  “What do I know?”

  “Oh my God, where’s the secret party?” Kelly said.

  Trish jabbed her discretely with an elbow, said, “We’re taking Odie to bed.”

  Kelly squinted, puzzled, looking at her girlfriend. “We...”<
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  Trish mimicked her puzzlement, said, “Seriously?”

  Kelly looked back, took Geoff and Krista in, said, “Shit, right, yeah. No, we are definitely doing that. I just forgot.”

  Winslow laughed, said, “You all have fun, I’ll see you in the morning.” He waved as he walked, no doubt headed back to that bar and then to the dance floor. He’d been eye-balling a red-head all during dinner.

  “Night, Winslow,” Kelly said.

  “You don’t have to,” he said to Trish.

  Kelly hugged him, said, “We’ll take her up to our room. We’ll take good care of her, buddy.”

  “Thanks, Kelly,” he said and held his sister a moment.

  Krista said, “You’ll come with me, then?”

  “Yeah. Why not? Sounds like fun.”

  His sister scratched his scalp, pat his chest. She went to Odie and she dipped, pulled her off the mantle to fall against her chest and her little legs went over Kelly’s hips.

  Krista said, “You want to go right now? I want to stop by my place and change first.”

  “Do I look okay?” he asked her. “Do I have to change?”

  Trish said, “No, Geoff, you look fine the way you are. Have fun tonight.”

  He kissed Odie’s cheek as her face lay sleepily on Kelly’s shoulder and he pet her hair back again. “Thanks, Kelly, thanks, Trish.”

  Kelly said, “Go, Geoff. Go have a good time.”

  “Oh shit!” he said, then covered his mouth though Odie slept through his profanity.

  Kelly turned, said, “What?”

  “The thing,” he said, nodding to her purse.

  “What thing? Oh, right,” she said, nodding now. She turned her hip to him and he fished through her open purse, found what he was looking for.

  He presented with both hands to Krista a well-wrapped gift he’d brought for her. A rectangle the size of a hearty paperback, wrapped with an elaborate bow.

  GEOFF

  They took a cab from the restaurant, west on Broadway through nighttime Manhattan, and right to the doors of the modern marble lobby of Krista’s Lincoln Square apartment building. He paid the driver, the doorman held the door for them, and they rode the elevator to the fifteenth floor, both of them watching the lit numbers flicker behind a brushed aluminum panel as they climbed.

  “You going to open it?” he said.

  “Now?” she laughed.

  “We got a minute,” he said, leaning against the side panel of the car, hands in his pockets.

  “Okay,” she smiled. She untied the ribbon, carefully winding it up around the elegant fingers of one hand and then slipping it into the pocket of her skirt. His gift was wrapped in ivory paper, embossed with gold foil lines that traced the shapes of broad tropical flowers, and her finger slipped under the tight fold and popped the paper free. She peeled it away, crumpled it and dropped the balled wrapping into her open purse. She already knew what it was without flipping it around to face her.

  It was the framed drawing that had hung inside the door at the entrance to the garage studio. The one she’d inquired about that gloomy night when she’d saved him from ruining his career.

  Her thumbs caressed the frame’s sharp corners. “I love it,” she said quietly.

  “Thank you,” he said. For everything.

  “You’ve had a big year this year, Geoff,” she said, looking into his eyes.

  “I did.”

  “A lot of changes. You think you came through okay?”

  “Better than okay,” he said, then shuffled a step to her. She was tall like Nia. As tall as him, and he looked in her eyes, got a propitious smile. He kissed her, pressed himself to her, folding her arms clutching Odie’s drawing against her chest.

  She exhaled, sucked his tongue, moaned, let herself sink against the mirrored wall of the elevator. It heaved to a stop on the fifteenth and the doors opened. He let her go, and she tucked the painting into her purse and fished out her keys.

  Out of the elevator her pace quickened and he followed behind her as she made her way briskly down the hall. He kept her pace, his eyes watching his own polished shoes march the geometric pattern on the carpet in step with Krista’s heels. Jangling keys banged below the lock, and she twisted it, got the heavy metal door open and they plunged inside. She was on him before she slammed the door shut. Knocked him back on his heels against the narrow wall in her tiny hallway. Her purse dropped to the berber rug and her hands went under his suit jacket and up his back. He felt her—put his hands all over her slender back and down over the top of her rump. She was Anglo-skinny. Long and lean and toned. Thick honey-blonde hair and pale skin. She tasted wonderful. Her lips were soft, her tongue sweet from wine. They sucked each other’s mouths lustily, their hands exploring and scratching and grabbing. His jacket was thrust over his shoulders with her hands tucked inside, forcing it down his arms. She kissed his beard, down his neck. He wrenched himself out of the jacket, threw it behind him, into her dark kitchen. Grabbed her then, right at the tops of her thighs, cupping her ass and pulling her up to his hips. She jumped on him, arms around his neck, mouth back on his.

  He stumbled to the door outside of the vestibule. Her apartment was small. A kitchen behind a half wall, a living area and one door that must lead to the bedroom. He banged through it, bumping his elbow and rocking his mouth on hers, stumbling into her bedroom and throwing her on her high queen size bed that filled the small square room, collapsing on top of her.

  She grappled wildly with him and he rolled with her, getting over top. He grabbed the front of her blouse and he ripped it open. Buttons scattered around her bedroom, pinging off all its hard surfaces. Hermés shirt probably cost a thousand dollars. He’d buy her a new one. It felt fucking amazing to do it. Worth a thousand. She gasped, her eyes glimmering wetly as she lay back on her bed with him on top of her, thick blonde hair fanned out around her. The purple Manhattan night splashed outside her curtainless windows, showing him one half of her well-bred face, the other side cast in blue shadow. Her chest heaved with excited breath. She was thin, with glowing healthy shine, her ribs pressed the skin between her breasts as she waited to see what he would do.

  He ran a finger over her fine flesh, stopped at the strap at the centre of the two cups of her bra. Front clasp on black lace fabric. He twisted it, let it pop open. She was small-chested. Two pale, flattened cones of soft jiggling waspy breast topped with beautiful plump and aroused cherry buds. He attacked them. Sucked her into his mouth. Got her writhing again, her hands clawing at his hair while he felt the hard shapes of her arousal with his tongue. Her skin was oiled and smooth, she smelled of something wonderful and fruity. Spice too. And sex, she smelled of her arousal. He could feel her excitement, smell her wetness, smell her feminine lust from between her legs. He ran a hand up her thigh and she stiffened, drawing in a breathy gasp. His hand went up til he felt her panties. Ran a finger then along the trim, found her heat, found the perfect swell of her mound pressing wetly against the fabric, aching for his touch. He left it, teased her. Grabbed her hip roughly and flipped her so she was face down. She rolled for him, tossed her hair over her shoulder to watch what he was going to do. He wrenched the shirt out from her skirt, pushed it up her, saw the light play along her muscled back. He pulled it over her head, her arms slipped free, and he hooped it around her face, covered her eyes, tightened it and tied it.

  “Shit, Geoff,” she sighed.

  His hands tucked under her waistband, tugged on her skirt, lifting her hips off the bed and back. She was on her knees and elbows with him behind her. Her skirt was wrenched up, up to her hips, bunched there, baring her ass, slashed with a black panty triangle. She had a beautiful ass below a narrow waist. Soft white flesh, but she was thin and fit. He caressed it briefly, then grabbed handfuls of her panties and he tore them away, shredding and flossing through her bent legs, baring her naked sex to him. She gasped and while she still drank air he was between her legs—diving in and sucking on her. He licked her seam. Rig
ht up her middle, passionately, from her wrinkled twisted folds up her asshole and to her tailbone. She kicked her legs and squealed. He slapped her bare cheek hard, a bright fun sound in her lightless bedroom.

  His body stretched over hers, on top of her, pressing her into the mattress. Another groan came out of her as he ground his aching bulge between her ass cheeks. Pulled her back to his mouth with her hair and the tied shirt, said, “You better have condoms.”

  “Ah,” she gasped, “top drawer,” then nodded her head to the right.

  The belly of his cock stroked through her spread cheeks as he reached up and yanked her drawer open, leaving it hanging at an angle. There was a loose accordion of condoms and he snatched them, digging his hips low and poking up between her legs with the head of his cock. Her legs swished lubricious kicks between his. The noise of his zipper being undone was clear above the soft fabric sounds and he wanted her to hear it. Sucked on her neck and she exposed it to him, soughing passion with his kisses. His cock was out and it was like steel. Pushed it in the creases between her legs, the wet sounds of their flesh coming together loud and exciting. She was sopping wet, warm and lovely and she squirmed her sex against his prodding eagerly. He stroked himself against her, gripped his cock in a fist and stroked her excitement up and down his shaft, let her feel what he was doing to himself. Her hands reached up to the top of the bed, under her plumped white pillows, her elegant hands wrapping around a brass crossbar of her headboard.

  “Fuck me, Geoff,” she whispered.

  He ripped a packet open and slipped the condom over his cock. Krista was spread out on her bed below him as he stroked his covered cock. Long-legged and beautiful, pale skin made tan next to her white bedding. She had a perfect slender build. Graceful and refined but she was dirty. He knew it. Maybe knew it a long time ago. A sixth sense that had intimidated him on that first lunch date when they were contemplating hiring him. A confidence she exuded. A woman who wasn't afraid of sex, wasn't afraid of men. Liked her body and liked it to be touched. The kind of woman who caught his heart but scared the shit out of him at the same time. He kissed this one first. Didn’t wait to be asked. Wasn’t afraid anymore. He was worth a million dollars. He had talent and recognition. He had the body of a regular male but his heart beat the lust and passion of an alpha. This sexy woman had made a slippery mess between her legs she was so hot for him. Her inner thighs glistened. He dove in, kissed her ass, sucked on her anus, his fingers touching and stoking that part of her he couldn’t wait to feel wrapped around his cock. He was going to make her come. He was going to make her come all night.