by Anne Leigh
Upon reaching Club Vere, Ava didn’t wait for the guys to open her door. She let herself out while Milo talked to the valet. She was already standing at the club’s entrance by the time we reached her.
Milo was about to talk to the doorman but the uniformed guard easily let us in. It was like we were given Disneyland EZ passes to get through the long lines.
“What the hell was that?” Milo asked. “He didn’t even ask for my name. I had the reservation under my name.” Club Vere was an elite, by-reservation only club, which is one of the things that my brother liked about it; teenyboppers and stragglers could not get in without a reservation.
Ava, who strutted ahead of us in her micro-mini excuse of a dress and black high-as-the-sky peep-toe heels, stopped in her tracks. “Well, this face is more famous than you, swimmer boy.”
Oh my gosh, she didn’t just say that. My brother hated being called ‘swimmer boy’.
“Dammit,” Milo hissed. “Why can’t she keep her mouth shut?” He caught up with Ava, and from where I stood, he looked like he was ready to clobber her.
Leif chuckled heavily beside me. “And that, Brynn, is some serious sexual tension...”
Sexual tension? Between Milo and Ava? No way. My brother’s neck popped with veins, and from my vantage point, I knew his eyes were glowering at Ava. Ava just appeared undeterred. She stood there and let her hands fall to her hips. Milo towered over her and he honestly looked like he was about to manhandle her any minute.
I slid in-between them, sandwiched into the small amount of space in the middle, and faced Ava. “Let’s just have fun!” Grabbing her right arm, I ushered her towards God-knows-where, leaving my brother and Leif behind. I saw the bar area and headed there, Ava still in tow. Sitting beside her, and after ordering a piña colada, I asked, “Why do you continue to pester my brother like that?”
She shrugged and gave me her pretty, fake smile. “It’s the truth, Brynn, he is a swimmer boy.”
Milo, his demeanor exhibiting his complete annoyance, stood over my shoulder and said, “Bee, we have our table over there. You’re welcome, but your companion is not.”
I slapped my left hand on his arm after turning to face him. “Can you guys just behave? You’re both acting juvenile.” Whenever my best friend and Milo were in the same room, it felt like a dormant volcano ready to erupt. I had no idea why they could not get along. Even when we were younger, if one said something, the other had to top it. They bickered and annoyed each other until someone eventually threw a rock, a pencil, a pillow, or whatever object was nearby and launch-able.
A brief look passed between Ava and Milo. Ava’s right eyebrow shot up, but before she could say anything, Milo relented, “Come on Bee, Prissy Princess can join us.”
I gave Ava a pleading look. ‘Don’t respond to his taunts.’
Ava pursed her lip, took a sip of her vodkatini, and gave me a smile. She was conceding the battle, for now.
It was almost midnight when I checked my phone for the fifth time. Kieran had not texted me. It was not as though we were boyfriend and girlfriend. We didn’t put a label on our relationship, but we did have unspoken ground rules. He checked in with me when he was out, and I did the same. I had texted him earlier that I was at Club Vere with my brother and Leif. Maybe he was busy.
Milo was chatting with a few women by the bar, and Leif and Ava were dancing like there was no tomorrow out on the floor. Leif had some Jabbawockeez frozen-state-like dance moves that made Ava clutch her hand to her stomach a few times. They were having fun.
I eyed my piña colada. I needed another one. Milo would have to be the DD for the night. I thought he had figured that out after he saw me gulping down three of these delicious coconut-flavored concoctions. I was about to take another sip when my phone lit up.
You look gorgeous. Why are you alone?
Kieran.
I looked around the dance floor, the bar area, and the entrance, actively scanning the perimeter, trying to catch a glimpse of the man who was obviously here inside the club.
Before I could send a reply, another text came in.
Looking for me?
I sent a smiley face and a, ‘No’.
Even with the amount of piña colada drinks that I had poured into my system, I still had the common sense to acknowledge the fact that if Milo saw Kieran anywhere in my vicinity, carnage was imminent.
I stood up, found my footing, and waved at Ava and then Milo, sending them the message that I was going to the restroom.
Holding my phone in hand, I trekked the short distance, all the while wishing that Kieran would tell me where he was. I was about to enter the restroom when I felt a body press into my back. Heated tingles crawled up my spine. The familiar masculine scent that reminded me of ocean-water hit my senses. His voice was soft on my ears, as he mused, “Miss me?”
He didn’t allow me to turn around. With my back tightly pressed against his body, he gently steered me towards a hidden room close to the exit sign, a few steps away from the women’s restroom. I felt one hand brush over my exposed neck as the other gently pushed my hair to the side.
“Honey, you’re so sexy,” he growled through his teeth, nibbling on my neck.
I was pliant to his demands. I knew exactly what he wanted. I slid a hand behind my back and felt for him. He was wearing jeans, the material rugged against my palm. I reached lower and cupped him.
“Ah.” His groan matched the growing arousal that I was feeling with my hands. He let me work my magic with my fingers, and he grew harder with each massaging stroke.
Finally, he stilled my hand and his fingers found the dewy wetness that had started to form the minute I felt his body behind mine. With Kieran, I was uninhibited in receiving pleasure. He understood what I wanted. The proof of his ability to predict my needs was evident when his hand slipped underneath my thong, and he plunged a finger inside of me.
A whimper escaped me as my head arched against his body. This illicit pleasure mixing with the desire to find my release as he continued plowing his fingers inside of me trumped my sense of control. We were in dark room but the door was slightly ajar. Anyone could walk in at any moment and catch us. He must have sensed my hesitation, because he reached for the doorknob and locked it.
His free hand clamped on to my left breast, teasing me through the sheer material of my dress. The pressure that he was exerting added to the already heightened carnality of the act. No one would ever think that Kieran, as private as he was, would ever do these things to a girl, in a dark room, at a club where tons of people were around. He was, and he was giving it all to me. He continued driving his fingers in and out of me. When his thumb circled my pleasure point for the fifth time, I shattered into a mindless, heady oblivion.
I heard a foil packet rip open and then he flipped me around. My dress was now cinched all the way up to my stomach. I glanced up at his face, and in the dim lighting could see his eyes had darkened with unbridled desire. His mouth was relentless against mine.
He pushed my back against the wall and hoisted my legs up, around his thighs. His large hands massaged my butt as he drove himself inside me. His pace was fast, slow, fast, and then slow again. He let out a guttural moan against my lips. I let my tongue circle the edges of his mouth, my fingers exploring the hard, toned muscles under his shirt.
“Let go...” I urged, clenching my thigh muscles against his body. He let go of my right butt cheek and brought his hand up to thread through my hair. His eyes met mine, telling me that I was giving him this feeling, this pleasure. He was so close to climax, I felt his rhythm change to quick, hard strokes. When I bit on his lower lip, he let out a hushed, “Aahhh,” as I felt him spill inside the condom. He kept himself there for a few seconds, and then, slowly, he pulled out of me, all the while planting small kisses on my face and hair.
When he was completely off of me, he helped me right my dress into place. Well, as best as he could. My thong was completely ruined. The tiny, thin strip of materia
l didn’t stand Kieran’s eagerness. Kieran’s eyes managed to look slightly apologetic as he reached for elastic strap and took it from my hands.
Finally, his breathing uneven and emanating the heat that had just passed between us, he husked, “Hey, nice to see you here. I see that you’ve found me.”
I touched two of my fingertips to his lips. “Kieran, you are such a naughty boy.”
His hand wrapped around mine, and while kissing my fingers, he replied, “Thank you.”
I laughed at that. Only Kieran would be cordial and polite enough to thank me after giving me an earth-shattering orgasm.
He kissed me one more time, before saying, “I’m here with a few guys. I know you don’t want Milo to see us together yet, but this is getting harder and harder every time.” Frustration, irritation, and an uncharacteristic display of impatience showed on his face.
“I know,” I agreed. “But it’s not the right time.” I ran my fingers through my hair, silently hoping that it didn’t look like I just had sex in a darkened corner, which I totally did.
His voice exasperated as he informed, “If I saw you dancing with another guy tonight, in that dress... I’m sorry Brynn, but whether you’d like it or not, your brother would know you were mine.”
He was right. We had to tell Milo. Kieran hated that he was lying and hiding me away.
“Soon Kieran.” I conceded, my hand reaching out to feel the stubble forming along his jawline. “I’ll tell him soon.” He wanted to tell Milo himself but I convinced him otherwise. It took a long time for me to persuade him. Three breakfasts, five, or was it ten, blowjobs, and numerous whining and begging episodes later, he agreed half-heartedly, but at least, he agreed.
I kissed him soundly, and then walked in front of him as he followed me out. He hugged me close to him one more time and watched as I went inside the women’s restroom. I had to fix myself in the restroom, for real.
The rest of the evening passed by in a blur. Kieran and three of his buddies sat on the opposite side of the club. Milo knew that Kieran was there because he told me a couple of times not to go wandering near that side of the building.
“Milo I am twenty-three years old.” I didn’t know how many times I had said that same line before, but it was sorely over-used. Kieran texted me what must have been the Book of Kama Sutra throughout the night, which had me choking on my drinks at differing times. At one point, Ava was ready to perform a modified Heimlich on me.
Ava had commented about some drool-worthy guys, and directed her eyes towards Kieran’s corner. Milo, who was standing by my side at that time, spurted out, “Brynn doesn’t see those motherfuckers. Stop influencing my sister’s mental state, princess.”
Ava just shrugged her shoulders. She must have been tired from dancing for Milo’s statement not to warrant a response from her. That or she was just acting indifferent. I noticed that every time Milo talked to a girl, her eyes were on him. More than a few times, I caught her sneaking glances at my brother. Was Ava crushing on him? No. She hated his guts and the feelings were mutual. It was just the drinks, made of 10% alcohol, which were doing the thinking and arriving at a wacky conclusion.
At the end of the night, I sent a goodnight kiss text to Kieran. Not once did he step on to the dance floor, even though his friends did. I danced a few songs with Ava and Leif. Inside the car, with Milo in the driver seat, Leif fumbling through the songs on the radio, and Ava slumped tiredly beside me in the backseat; I got another text from Kieran.
I have your thong and it’s gonna be sleeping with me tonight.
I left it at that. How lucky my thong was, to be in the arms of my man tonight.
“I’d like to have a drum set.”
~P.R., age 12, congenital heart disease
Brynn wasn’t answering her cell.
I wasn’t able to escort her to her car like I’ve been regularly doing every night that she worked.
I had a meeting that ran late with my agent, Michael, and SwimFit. SwimFit wanted to conduct an experiment with my swim gear. I was cool with that, as long as they didn’t mess with my current practice and racing suits this close to the upcoming World Championships. I was not being finicky. I just wanted to compete in the same gear that I already felt comfortable wearing when swimming. Smith agreed with that, too. He was on video conference with us for the meeting because he was out-of-town with his family. We were all in agreement on this subject, though. Why mess with what has worked before?
I was pro with everything that SwimFit suggested. Their presentation was great and it looked good on paper, or on the slides that they showed. Their extensive analysis featured videos of me swimming above water and underwater, with the utilization of an underwater video camera system, to determine how drag resistance affected my swim efficiency and strokes. The new design of suits will create a balance between the pressure differences of the faster and slower water particles, and help me move through the water more efficiently.
Whew! There was physics to swimming and that was the only physics I was interested in, since it directly affected my performance. Ace has heard me talking about the importance of physics in swimming since we were in college. There were actually a few times I had enlisted her help in explaining to me some weird particle theory; she got so detailed that I literally zonked out on her. When I had woken up, I found she had drawn stick figures on my arms with a felt pen that took hours to wash off because she had used a fine point Sharpie on certain ‘parts’ of the stick figures. She was a mean girl. Not gonna lie, I probably would have done the same thing to her.
I texted Brynn for the fourth time in two hours with, “Honey where are you?” I was getting worried. What if something had happened to her, on the one night I didn’t pick her up or walk with her?
I drove to the hospital. Without traffic, it took me fifteen minutes. I stopped by her usual parking spot and her Prius was nowhere to be found. Maybe she went home already. She must have been overly tired to not even return my call or text me back.
As I made the right turn outside the parking lot, I noticed that Mr. X—Brynn and I had named him Mr. X because we didn’t know his actual name—was not in his usual spot. Another odd thing. Mr. X never left his spot. He was there every night at the same time, same place. Brynn brought him food and drink after every shift. She told me that her first night in the ER, she had heard a beautiful voice singing while on her way to the parking lot late at night. She followed the voice and it led her right to Mr. X. She had tried to talk to him numerous times, but he didn’t budge, let alone speak. She had never even seen his face because a blanket always covered him. Three nights out of the week he sang, as if singing to Brynn in thanks. Initially, we both thought he could either be a guy or a girl but when we listened to the voice intently, we both concluded he was a guy. I have heard his voice a few times. It is deep and velvety, he hits the high notes perfectly, and I figure he must have been a singer or a performer.
I left the hospital and drove to her apartment. Luckily, another tenant was going inside so I was able to enter the building without needing Brynn to buzz me up, which was helpful since I was not sure if she was there. She wanted to give me a key to her place a few times but I said that the only time I’d accept it is if she told her brother about us. I knew she was disappointed about it but I really didn’t want to show up at her place unexpectedly and find out Milo was there because that could start another fight. Brynn graciously accepted my keys to my place though because she could come visit me anytime she wanted. I had nothing to hide.
I knocked on the door. Thoughts of her brother being inside her place just invaded my mind as I was on my third knock.
Finally, a dark red sweatpants and white, loose, sleeveless shirt-clad Brynn answered the door. She looked weary. Her eyes were swollen like she had been crying; her shoulders so slouched that she looked as if she was going to fall in front of me from carrying the weight of the world on them, at any second. I whisked her tired body up in my arms and carried her t
o her bedroom.
I laid her on the bed, gently cradling her head against her soft pillow.
I took off my pants, leaving my shirt and boxers on, and joined her in bed.
After I reached for her waist, it only took her a few seconds to react. She rested her head against the crook of my arm and splayed her fingers across my chest.
“I got your calls and texts...,” she murmured, her voice sounding extremely exhausted. “I’m sorry, we were extremely busy today at the unit, and then...” I felt wetness start to drip against my shirt. Tears.
I let my fingers do the talking, massaging her luminous hair. Even under the soft dim lights from the nightlight that she usually kept on, making it difficult for me to sleep at times because I liked to sleep in complete darkness, the sight of her golden locks mesmerized me, and her unique, Brynn-labeled vanilla scent was causing a stirring, an awakening down below my boxers.
You’re a bastard, Kieran. Not right now.
“What happened?” I asked. I had seen her both tired and down before, but this time she seemed extremely depressed. Judging by her body language, something took a toll on her today and weighed her down.
Her hand left my chest and wiped at the wetness I had felt, that was making its way down her cheeks. I reached under her chin and tried to tilt her face up towards mine. “Honey tell me, please?”
Her gaze was downcast; I wanted to see her eyes but I let her take charge of the situation. It was obvious that she was hurting.
“We had two code blues in the ER today.” I have watched various medical shows on TV because of Ace. Personally, I would rather have watched how spider monkeys spend their leisure time swinging from tree to tree on National Geographic. Medical shows were boring. Who cared if a doctor had a love affair with two or four interns? They were all the same. Ace watched them to jot down inconsistencies, what the shows did wrong, and then she emailed the TV shows directly. She was crazy like that. She had actually gotten a few responses back, and one time, she received an invite to a live taping at Burbank Studios. She took me, of course. Anyways, I knew what code blues were. Basically, it meant that someone was about to meet his or her maker, and everyone here on earth was trying not to let that happen.
