After we turn down dessert I’m surprised to see Drew’s assistant, George, hurry over to our table.
When I glance at Mazzy she raises an eyebrow indicating she’s just as surprised as I am. The only person who doesn’t look surprised is Drew. He’s actually breathing a sigh of relief.
“I’m glad I caught you.” George is a little breathless. Of course nearly every time I see the guy he seems to be breathless. Not that I’m surprised. I’m sure being my brother’s assistant isn’t an easy job.
“I had to schedule a meeting this evening.” He looks in Mazzy’s direction. “Sorry about that.”
Drew turns to me and says, “Do you mind taking Mazzy home in my car? I can get a ride with George.”
Before I have a chance to respond Drew reaches into his pocket and tosses me his car keys. As he rises from his chair he says, “I’ll handle the tab on the way out.”
He turns to leave, but then almost as an afterthought, he turns back and leans down to give Mazzy a quick peck on the cheek. “Don’t wait up for me. I’m sure it will be another late night.”
After he and George disappear into the dining room I turn to Mazzy and ask if she’s okay.
“That was a little awkward,” she admits.
“Which part?”
“All of it.”
We both can’t help but laugh.
I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t wait, so I grab her hand under the table. When she turns to me and gives me a sexy little grin I’m sure she’s thinking the same thing I am. How fast can we make it back to the lake house?”
Nine
Mazzy
Austin pulls me up the stairs so fast I feel like I’m going to step out of my heels. But I don’t mind. I want to get behind a closed door with him just as quickly as he does.
“Your room or mine?” He asks between pants.
“A little out of shape?” I tease.
“We’ll be getting plenty of exercise in about thirty seconds.”
He pulls me into his bedroom and triple checks the lock. Then he ravages me. And I do mean ravage. He’s like a wild animal that can’t get to his prey fast enough. And I have to admit that I’m equally ravenous.
It took every ounce of self-restraint I had not to put my hands all over him at the restaurant. When I see Austin and Drew together it’s hard for me to believe that they have the same parents. They’re so different in every way. Drew is calm and cool, almost aloof, well-rehearsed and dignified. He’s perfect in every way, like a walking-talking cover for GQ magazine.
Austin is everything his brother isn’t. He’s tough and gritty, fiercely independent and feisty, and says what he thinks without regard for the consequences. Everything about Austin turns me on in a way no one has ever turned me on before.
“You’re sexy has hell in that dress,” he says as he looks me up and down. “But you’re even sexier without it.”
I take that as my cue to do a little striptease for him. I point to the bed and order him to sit. He eagerly obeys.
As his eyes scan my body I take my time slowly removing the dress from my shoulders and letting the straps slide down my upper arms. Then I turn around and give him a good view of my posterior as I unzip the dress and let it fall the rest of the way down.
Now in just my bra, panties, stockings and high heels I turn and do a little strut toward him on the bed. I bite my bottom lip as I place my heeled foot right between his legs on the bed.
His eyes remain on mine as he kisses my knee. Then I playfully pull my leg away and model my lingerie for him for a few moments.
“Take it all off,” he insists.
I do as I’m told. First I unsnap my strapless bra and let it fall to the floor. Then I move my hands slowly down my body, caressing myself, before I place my thumbs at the top of my underwear and push them down to join my bra and dress on the floor.
Then I kick off the heels and peel off the stockings.
As his eyes move up and down my body he says, “I changed my mind. Keep the heels on. There are very few things sexier than a naked woman in heels.”
I put the heels back on and strut around for a few seconds giving him equal views of both my front and back assets. When I finally stop to face him again I can see pure desire burning in his eyes.
At that moment I feel a power I have never felt before. The power to completely and utterly turn a man on without even touching him.
“Come here.” His voice is husky with need.
As I close the small distance between us he stands up and grabs me. He pulls me close so that I can feel how hard he is and how much I turned him on.
“You’re impossible to resist,” he whispers into my ear. “I’m going to go completely insane if I can’t be inside you right now.”
“I don’t want to be responsible for driving you insane,” I tease.
“Good.”
Within moments he reclaims my mouth with savage intensity. Then his mouth moves to my already erect nipples and he licks and sucks them with tantalizing possessiveness.
My entire body responds turning warm and I tremble with anticipation.
I reach for the buttons on his shirt and fumble a bit as I try to quickly undo them. Once the last button is undone Austin is quick to remove the garment and he wastes no time removing his pants and underwear as well.
As my eyes wander south I lick my lips with anticipation. He’s definitely hard and ready.
He swiftly pulls me onto the bed with him and our lips and hands are all over each other again.
“Shit,” he exclaims. “Don’t move.”
I laugh. “Where would I go?”
He hops up from the bed and grabs a condom from his pocket. He removes it from the package and then quickly sheaths himself.
“I need to be inside of you,” he states as he climbs back in bed.
“Hurry up then. I don’t want you to go insane.”
He gives me a sexy grin as he pushes inside of me. My body quickly molds to his as we establish a rhythm. It’s amazing how well our bodies fit together. Like pieces of a puzzle that had been dropped, found again then slid into place.
It’s not long before I feel a wave of ecstasy wash over me. As Austin continues to thrust hard and deep inside of me I’m overcome by a floodtide of pure bliss.
As I cry out his name Austin gives one final push and lets out his own exclamation.
When he rests his forehead on my chest it’s sweaty from the intense workout.
“You’re amazing,” he says as he places a soft kiss on my forehead.
“And you’re not insane,” I tease.
“There’s only one problem,” he says as he withdraws from me. “I can never get enough of you. So where does that leave us?”
I smile. “It depends.”
“On what?”
“On how much energy you have and how many condoms.”
***
I’ve been pacing the house for what seems like hours waiting for Drew’s mom to arrive. It’s not that she’s late. On the contrary, she’s not supposed to be here for another fifteen minutes. I’ve just been a nervous wreck. I couldn’t even eat the omelet I cooked for myself this morning. My stomach was tied into a huge knot. And it feels like it’s getting worse. I debate phoning her to tell her I’m not feeling well, but I know I’d only be postponing the inevitable.
I glance down at the camel pantsuit and sensible brown heels I’m wearing. I’ve looked at the outfit about a hundred times, but it still hasn’t gotten any better. George picked it out for me. Apparently he’s a big fan of women wearing pantsuits. I’ve never given them a second thought and I feel a little awkward wearing it. It’s like I’m trying too hard to be grown up and sophisticated and just look like a little girl playing dress-up in her mother’s clothes.
When I round the corner to head back into the foyer for what feels like the fiftieth time I run right into a wall of naked chest.
It’s Austin in nothing but boxer shorts.
�
�Good morning.” He gives me a huge grin. Even though I’ve seen him naked, that was in a private setting. I’m a little embarrassed by his lack of clothing out here in the open where anyone in his family can apparently walk in on us at any moment.
He looks me up and down and then laughs. “I can’t believe they’ve already got you in a pantsuit. That didn’t take long.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I place my hands on my hips and glare at him. Even though I know I look ridiculous he doesn’t have to rub it in or point it out.
He bites back a laugh. “You look like Hillary Clinton.”
“I don’t get it.” I’m not into politics, but at least I know who Hillary Clinton is. I just don’t understand what she has to do with pantsuits.
“I guess I’m not as funny as I think I am if I have to explain my jokes. Hillary Clinton is known for her pantsuits. She even jokes about it herself. She has a Sisterhood of the Traveling Pantsuits. Her pantsuits got a lot of publicity when she ran for President in 2008.”
“I was still in high school in 2008. I couldn’t even vote.”
He clutches his very sexy chest. “You’re making me feel very old right now.”
“You were ancient. You were probably in college.”
“Guilty as charged,” he says.
“Would you mind putting on some clothes?” I try not to look at his half naked body, but it’s a little difficult with him standing so close.
Much to my chagrin he moves even closer. “See something you want?”
“Your mother will be here any minute,” I remind him.
He laughs. “No doubt also wearing a pantsuit.”
“You have kind of a weird obsession with pantsuits.”
He shakes his head. “Pantsuits send off a weird vibe. They’re not quite feminine, but they’re not quite masculine either. It’s like they’re trying to straddle the line between men’s and women’s clothing.”
I can’t help but laugh. “That could be one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever heard in my life.”
“Anything to make you smile.” He winks at me and it sends a little shiver right through me.
We both freeze when we hear a car pull into the driveway.
“Gotta go,” Austin says quickly.
“Don’t you want to stay and say hello to your mom?” I ask hopefully.
“Oh, hell no. It’s way too early in the morning to deal with my mother. Have fun.”
Before I can even get in another word he’s already disappeared up the staircase.
When I hear a loud knock at the front door my heart skips a few beats and then starts to race. I try to take in a deep breath, but to no avail. My chest is already too constricted.
“Be calm,” I try to will my body to obey, but it’s not working. My heart feels like it’s going to leap right out of my chest.
As I head towards the door my legs turn to jelly. It’s nothing short of a miracle that I don’t pass out before I get the door open.
Drew’s mom is looking surly as ever, but when she enters the foyer and sees my pantsuit she plasters a gigantic fake smile on her face.
“It’s so great to see you again, Mazzy.” Her voice oozes insincerity.
When I try to reply my words stick in my throat. So I cough a few times and then say, “It’s nice to see you again, Mrs. Graham.”
She laughs. “Call me, Margaret or Mom, whichever you prefer.”
Since I don’t even call my own mother, Mom, I decide Margaret might be a better choice.
Before I know what’s hit me she grabs my elbow and pulls me out of the house.
“I’ve got a fabulous day planned for us,” she exclaims as she drags me towards her Mercedes. Then she stops and stares at my shoes. “I’m so glad you wore sensible shoes for shopping. Great pantsuit, by the way. Compliments your coloring beautifully. You’ll look wonderful for the cameras. I may have let it slip to a few of my PR friends that we’ll be wedding dress shopping today.”
Great. My guess is that we’ll spend the day followed by the paparazzi. I’m starting to think this shopping excursion isn’t as much a great-to-know-you girl’s day out as it is another media op for the Drew Graham campaign.
“Be sure to buckle up,” Margaret reminds me as we both take seats in her car.
“I didn’t realize you were being forced to ride around on the back of Austin’s nasty motorcycle,” she comments as she pulls out of the driveway.
“He offered me a ride, which I thought was very kind.” I refrain from telling her how much I actually enjoyed riding on it with him. She obviously doesn’t think much of her younger son’s choices.
“My husband and I would like Drew to purchase you a Mercedes, maybe a C-Class C350 Coupe. That way you could get yourself around town when Drew is busy.”
I gulp. I’m not sure how I feel about Drew buying me a car, a very expensive one, on top of everything else. Especially when I’m sleeping with his brother behind his back. I didn’t realize I’d be plagued with so much guilt. The sad thing is that I still want to be with Austin, even though I know it’s wrong on so many levels.
He was right. I didn’t really need to worry about carrying on a conversation with his mother. She’s doing a terrific job all by herself. I’ve never seen a woman who could talk for ninety seconds without taking a breath, but Margaret is a marathon talker. I’ve been timing her.
She’s told me Drew’s entire history, from when he was a new born until the day he launched his campaign for governor. I noticed she didn’t mention Austin once. Not even in the context of his older brother.
Is it sad that I’d much rather hear about Austin’s first steps, and what cartoons he liked to watch as an eight-year-old, and what sports he played in high school. But I know I can’t ask without arousing suspicion.
When we make our first stop at Larry’s Bridal I notice there are a few guys with cameras already waiting outside the door.
Once Margaret has parked she turns to me and says, “When you pose for the camera be sure to turn slightly to the left. I think that’s your best angle. Place your right hand on your right hip and give a slight wave with the other hand. Tilt your head back ever so slightly to give the appearance that you’re looking up just a bit. You’ll thank me in twenty years when things start to sag. It lifts the neck.”
“Okay,” is all I can manage. I feel like she’s already choreographing my every move.
“And it never hurts to give your lips a little touch up,” she says as she pulls her own dark red lipstick out of her purse.
I do as I’m told. I remove my light pink gloss from my bag and refresh my lips just a bit.
“Ready?” she asks as she carefully inspects me.
“I think so.”
She pats my arm in the same way you might pat a dog’s head. “You’ll be fine.”
As we make our way into the bridal shop the cameramen follow us snapping shots. Margaret stops right in front of the entrance and poses exactly as she described. She’s definitely got the publicity photo shoot down to a science.
I try to follow her lead, but I just feel awkward. It doesn’t seem to deter the paparazzi from taking their shots of me though.
Once we’re inside the shop Margaret’s fake smile completely fades and she barks orders to an older gentleman, who I assume is Larry. He and his staff scramble about collecting dresses.
“I called ahead and made an appointment,” Margaret snaps. “You’d think they’d have at least one dress ready to show you.”
After Larry apologies profusely he takes me and Margaret to a private showing room, where we’re seated in high backed velvet chairs and served chocolate covered strawberries and champagne, neither of which Margaret acknowledges or even touches.
Then several models appear wearing dresses and give us a small, private fashion show of what Larry identifies as the latest styles.
It’s all overwhelming and I start to feel a bit dizzy. Everything seems to be getting a little too real for a f
ake engagement.
Of course Margaret has no idea it’s fake. At least I don’t think she does. With her it’s difficult to tell what’s real or what’s a façade. I’m starting to think that everything in her life is in some way enhanced or modified for the sake of the media.
It’s becoming clearer why Austin took off and decided to have as little contact with them as possible.
“Do you see anything you like?” Her sneer and the condescending tone in her voice lead me to believe that I should say no.
So I shake my head.
“I didn’t think so.”
Margaret abruptly stands and I hop from my chair as well. As soon as Larry sees we’re standing he hurries over to us and says, “Is there anything you’d like to try on?”
Margaret shakes her head. “Not today. But we thank you for your time.”
“Of course,” Larry replies. “And I’ll let you know as soon as we get more of the new line in.”
Without another word Margaret marches out and I follow as quickly as I can. She may have called my shoes sensible, but they’re already killing my feet. I’m used to wearing sneakers or flats when I bartend.
I’m glad to see that all of the photographers have already left by the time we head out of the shop.
“I have appointments at two other upscale bridal shops,” Margaret announces as we head towards the car.
The ritual is nearly identical at each of the bridal shops and after a while all the dresses start to look the same. Not that I’m really paying that much attention to them because I’m not actually getting married.
By the time we’re finished at the third bridal shop my stomach is growling and I’m starting to get a hunger headache. I could kick myself for not eating breakfast. I was very close to grabbing one of the chocolate covered strawberries and gobbling it down if Margaret hadn’t given me the evil eye when she saw my hand hovering close to the serving plate.
“Time for lunch,” Margaret proclaims as we head for her car. “I made a reservation at Fendie.” All I want to hear her say is that we won’t be visiting any more bridal shops this afternoon. I’ve had about all I can take of wedding gowns, maybe for the rest of my life.
“I assume your sister will be your maid of honor,” she says as we head toward the restaurant.
Another Mazzy Monday Page 13
