by Jane Graves
He tapped the link to take him to the store's website, only to discover it was even worse that he'd imagined.
It was bad enough to buy condoms at a drugstore. He always felt as if there was a big, neon sign on his forehead: MARK'S FINALLY GETTING SOME. If he went to Dildeaux, he'd also have the joy of standing at the register and pretending not to stare at a point-of purchase selection of vibrators and a fortieth anniversary edition of Debbie Does Dallas.
Then again, it had something the drugstore and grocery store didn't have. Proximity. It was only a tenth of a mile away.
Mark looked out the side window of his car, and sure enough he was practically on top of it. There it sat, almost right across the street, in all its tacky glory.
For a moment he thought about driving that five-point-whatever miles to the drugstore. Then he thought about how Liz was waiting for him. Liz, who made him smile every time she walked into the room. Who kissed like an angel. Who had a body that would make a cloistered priest renounce his vows. Then, for the hundredth time in the past twenty minutes, he pictured her naked.
That did it.
He shoved his car in gear, swung it around, and hit the gas to cross the street. He came a little too close to an oncoming car, which earned him a punitive honk and a middle finger. He pulled up in front of the store and turned into a parking space. Dead ahead was a picture window displaying a mannequin modeling a black leather bra, panties and thigh-high boots, carrying some wicked-looking iron thing he couldn't have identified if his life depended on it.
He got out of the car and went inside, wincing when the bells on the glass door announced his arrival. A short, balding guy behind the counter gave him a cheery hello.
"Can I help you find something?" he asked.
"Nope," Mark said, still walking. "Just browsing."
"Be sure to check out that rack over there," the guy said. "There's some lingerie on sale. And all lubes and lotions are twenty percent off."
Keep moving. Just find the condoms, grab a box, and go.
Mark passed one aisle after another. Porn movies…bondage accessories…sex toys…
There! Condoms.
He turned down the aisle and stopped short. No, not just condoms. A gazillion different kinds of condoms. He stood there in awe, his gaze panning over the display. He saw ribbed condoms. Studded condoms. Flavored condoms. Colored condoms. Extra-strength condoms. Textured. Contoured. Extra large. Extra small. An eco-friendly condom with zero carbon footprint, which would allow him to have safe sex and be a responsible steward of the planet, all at the same time.
A condom with extra head room? Good Lord. He wasn't buying a Buick.
Finally he just grabbed the most generic ones he could find. Who needed all those bells and whistles, anyway?
Then he imagined what Liz might think. He'd already acted boring enough around her. Did he really want her to yawn all the way through the experience?
He picked up one of the other boxes. Brand name: Night Lights. Evidently they had a phosphorescent layer that glowed in the dark. Crazy, yeah, but this was Liz he was talking about. She might actually like condoms that made his penis look like a light saber.
Then another one caught his eye. Her Pleasure Sensations?
He tucked the generic ones under his arm and picked those up, too. Evidently they had few more features than the average condom and were supposed to make her shiver with ecstasy. That could only be a good thing, right?
He looked at the three boxes he held, trying to decide which one to buy—the boring but efficient one, the Vegas one, or the one that sent her to heaven in a single thrust. After a few more seconds of indecision, he decided it was better to be safe than sorry. He'd take all three and sort it out later.
He made an about face to go to the cash register, only to run head-on into someone who'd been standing behind him. The collision caused him to drop the boxes. As they clunked to the floor, he grabbed her upper arms to steady her. Then he looked at whose arms he was holding, and embarrassment hit him like a concrete block dropped from a third-story window.
Liz?
Mark felt his mouth hanging open and tried to shut it, but his whole face felt frozen. She looked at the three boxes on the floor, then back up at him. A tiny smile crossed her lips.
"Ambitious, aren't you?"
Mark wanted to crawl into a hole and die. With luck, somebody would cover up his dumb dead body and he could simply pass away to dust.
"No," he said, picking up the boxes. "I think you've misunderstood." He laughed a little. "I was just…you know…"
"Stocking up?"
"No!"
"Comparison shopping?"
He shoved all three boxes back on the shelf. "I don't want you to get the wrong idea. I'm not presuming anything."
"You're not?"
"Of course not! Just because I'm coming to your apartment, I don't want you to think that I think…"
"Think what?"
"You know. That I'm going to need…" He waved weakly in the direction of the massive condom display.
"Mark?"
"Yeah?"
"What do you think I'm doing here?"
"Uh…" And then his brain flatlined.
"I know guys usually handle that detail," Liz went on, "but I didn't want to chance it. I figured I had time to make a run before you showed up, but you must have set a new land speed record getting here."
Mark blinked with surprise. "So you assumed we were going to…?"
She glanced at the condoms he'd stuck back on the shelf. "Glow in the dark?" She smiled. "Yeah. I hoped so, anyway."
As much as he liked Liz before, he was positively head over heels for her now. After all the subterfuge Gwen had subjected him to that evening, Liz's cheerful straightforwardness made him feel as if he'd landed in paradise.
"Did you look around at all?" Liz said. She picked up a box next to the condom display that read Kama Sutra Chocolate Body Paint. "Hmm. It says it won't stain your sheets, but I bet it does. Might as well just use real chocolate." She put that box back and grabbed another one. "Oooh. These might be kind of fun!"
"Edible panties?"
"Says here they're strawberry flavored." She turned her gaze up to meet his. "How about it? Do you like strawberries?"
She tilted her head as she said it, wearing that tiny smile again, and the skin on the back of his neck tingled and his face grew hot.
"As a matter of fact…yeah. I do."
"My lip gloss is strawberry."
"It is?"
"I can see you don't believe me. Maybe you should find out for yourself."
She took a step forward and leaned into him, and he automatically slid his arm around her back. She pressed her hands to his chest, looking up at him with a kiss-me expression.
So he did.
Before he met Liz, if somebody had told him he'd be standing in the condom aisle of a sex shop kissing a beautiful woman who was holding a box of edible underwear, he'd have sworn they'd lost their mind. Instead he was the one who was losing his. The moment his lips landed on Liz's, he became oblivious to everything around them. An orgy could have broken out in aisle three and he never would have known it.
He whispered against her lips. "I'm not tasting strawberry."
"Sorry. I lied. Here. I'll give you the kiss back." She put her hands on his cheeks and pressed her lips to his again. He was gone over this woman. Completely and totally gone.
"My place," she whispered. "Now."
Mark grabbed the glow-in-the-dark condoms from the shelf, Liz carried the edible panties, and they hurried to the register. Mark paid as quickly as he could, and they raced out of the shop. He gave Liz a quick kiss and told her he'd meet her at her place. Thank God it was just around the corner.
They arrived at her apartment at the same time and parked next to each other. He grabbed the sack from Dildeaux and leaped out of his car. To his surprise, Liz ran up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I missed you," she whispered, and gav
e him a kiss so hot he nearly melted into the pavement. Mark had never been a public display of affection kind of guy, but when Liz was the object of his affection, he didn't mind displaying it for the whole world to see.
All at once, Mark felt sprinkles of rain and realized the thunderstorm he'd seen moving in earlier had arrived. He took Liz's hand and they ran into the building and up the stairs. When they reached her apartment door, she unlocked it, but far too many seconds had passed since he'd felt her lips on his, so he pulled her around and kissed her again, tucking her head into the crook of his elbow and sliding his other hand along her back right down to her ass. Ever since he'd seen it inside those tight little jeans for the first time, he'd been dying to get his hands on it, and it was every bit as spectacular as he'd expected.
She groaned against his lips. Just knowing that Liz was his tonight—all his—gave him a crazy sense of exhilaration. He already had a hard-on that felt like concrete, so he was thankful it wouldn't be long before it was glowing in the dark. Without a doubt, this was going to be one of the best nights of his life.
Her lips never leaving his, she fumbled for the knob behind her and opened the door, stumbling backward into the apartment. Her keys clattered to the floor, along with the sack he held. Mark closed the door behind them, then turned Liz around and pressed her against it and kissed her all over again. She squirmed a little, and he realized she was reaching for the tail of her T-shirt. When she yanked it over her head, tossed it down, and reached for his shirt, it was as if the heavens had opened up and angels began to sing.
"Excuse me! What is going on here?"
Mark whipped around. A woman's voice? An old woman?
Oh, God. They weren't alone.
12
Mark saw three women and two men gathered in Liz's living room. One of the women was Sherri. The man next to her was about Sherri’s age, blond and buff, looking as if he'd just climbed down off a lifeguard stand. The other two women were seventy if they were a day. And the other guy was maybe forty, wearing a short-sleeved plaid shirt and a sweater vest. They all had open books in front of them. And not just any books.
Bibles?
Liz lunged for her T-shirt and scrambled back into it. One of the older ladies leaned toward the other, her eyes never leaving Mark and Liz. "Are they going to fornicate?" she whispered.
Fornicate? Mark hadn't heard that word spoken out loud since he was nine years old and Brother Askew of the First Baptist Church of Waldon Springs, Tennessee had shared the word of the Lord on that particular subject.
"Liz!" Sherri said, her brows pulled together with phony condemnation. "Just what do you think you're doing?"
Liz yanked the tail of her T-shirt over her hips. "Get real, Sherri. I'm pretty darned sure I don't have to explain sex to you."
The old ladies shared a look that said, Oh, my. They are going to fornicate!
"Don't worry," Sherri said. "They were just leaving."
"Sherri…" Liz said, dragging out her name with a warning tone at the same time she flicked her eyes at Mark. "We have plans."
"Liz…" Sherri said with the same warning tone, flicking her eyes toward the blond guy. "We're worshipping the Lord."
"Oh, come on, Sherri! This is silly. Don't you think it's about time to tell him—"
"No!" Sherri shoved her chair back and leaped to her feet. "Leviticus...uh, whatever," she said to the group. "Read and discuss." She hurried over to Liz. "What are you doing here?" she whispered. "I told you I was hosting Bible study tonight! You said it was okay!"
She’d forgotten all about that. How could she have forgotten?
”I shouldn't have said it was okay,” Liz whispered back. "I should have told you again to stop acting like you're somebody you're not!"
"But I'm making progress. Kevin likes me!"
"He likes Saint Sherri. What's he going to do when Sinner Sherri comes out to play?"
"With luck I'll uncover a little lust in his heart."
"I have a little lust in my own heart right now," Liz said. "We'll just go to my bedroom and—"
"No!" Sherri whispered. "We can't have a Bible study with you messing around in the next room. You have to go!"
Mark didn't get any of this. He only knew that they could add his name to the list of people in the room whose lust was overflowing their heart.
"Oh, all right," Liz said. She turned to Mark. "We'll go to your place. Is that okay?"
"Uh…sure."
Sherri smiled, pointing back and forth between them. "So…are you guys finally seeing each other?"
"We're trying to," Liz said snapped. "But these damned clothes are getting in the way."
"Get naked at Mark's. I have work to do."
"We'll talk tomorrow," Liz said, flicking her gaze to the blond guy again. "And you know what I mean by that."
"Sure," Sherri said, making a shooing gesture with her hands. "'Bye, now."
Liz picked her keys up off the floor and stuck them in her purse. Mark picked up the sack he'd dropped, and they left the apartment. Sherri shut the door behind them.
"Not sure I followed all that," Mark said.
"Sorry," Liz said sheepishly. "I'll explain it in the car."
They went down the stairs and opened the door to leave the building. Just then a flash of lightning zigzagged across the sky, followed by a roaring clap of thunder. Liz stopped short. "Uh oh. Do you think God's trying to tell us something?"
"What I think is that we'd better get in the car before this rain hits."
Mark flicked the door locks on his car. They jumped inside and closed the doors behind them.
And then the rain came.
From one moment to the next, it went from a sprinkle or two here and there to buckets full. Blinding sheets of it. It was a rainstorm of Biblical proportions that even the ark couldn't have withstood.
"I stand corrected," Mark said. "God's talking loud and clear."
He started the car and left the parking lot, making a right onto Porter Avenue. He flipped the wipers to high, but he was still having a hard time seeing through the windshield.
"So tell me what's going on with Sherri," he said.
"Oh, yeah. Sherri. The whole church thing. It's just desperation."
"What do you mean?"
"A month or so ago she found out her boyfriend was seeing another woman. She drank a whole bottle of Chardonnay and Googled, How do I meet men who aren't lying, cheating scumbags? There was an article at DatingTips.com about meeting men at church. She thought it sounded like a good idea."
"Because godly men don't cheat?"
"Exactly."
"Does she like going to church?"
"Only if there are eligible men there."
"Men she wants to have sex with."
"Yes."
"Premarital sex."
"Uh huh."
"And she expects to meet them at church."
"Believe it or not."
"I'm looking for the logic in that. Not finding it."
"Finally. Somebody who sees the Catch 22 besides me." She reached over the console and rested her hand on Mark's thigh. "Wish your condo was closer."
She had no idea how much he wished that, too. He tried to play it cool, as if beautiful women touched him all day long, but when the heat of her palm soaked through his slacks right to his skin, he didn't know how much more nonchalance he had in him.
Then she wasn't just resting her hand on him. She was moving it. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. He gritted his teeth and tried to concentrate on driving, but it was a damned hard thing to do when every nerve in his body felt like a bowstring ready to snap. Then his vision went wonky for a moment, as if blood wasn't getting to his head. He veered into the lane beside him and almost sideswiped a FedEx truck. He yanked the steering wheel back at the last second, letting out a breath of relief.
"Oops," Liz said. "Bad idea. Guess I'd better keep my hands to myself. What's the point of having all those condoms if we end up in a
fiery crash?"
"Wise woman."
"How about I talk dirty instead?"
It was official. They were going to die.
For the next several minutes, Liz explained—in exquisite detail—exactly what she wanted to do to him the moment they went inside his condo and shut the door. Lightning sizzled across the sky. Thunder crashed. Rain pummeled the car. It was as if her sex talk had its own movie soundtrack. He'd never met a woman so open and spontaneous and uninhibited, who didn't waste a moment's thought on what the rest of the world thought of her. He couldn't even imagine what that might feel like, but he had the feeling that if he let some of her personality rub off on him, his life would be better in a hundred different ways.
Finally Mark rounded the corner and pulled into a parking space at his condo complex. "We'll have to make a run for it to the door. I have an umbrella, but we're still liable to get drenched."
"That's okay," she said cheerfully. "Maybe I'll shrink."
"Wait there and I'll come around to let you out."
As Liz grabbed the Dildeaux sack, Mark reached behind the seat for the umbrella. Keys in hand, he paused, gathering his resolve, then flung open the driver's door, whooshed the umbrella open, and stepped out. He slammed the door behind him and started around the car, his shoes swishing through a sheet of water. He didn't know why he was even holding the umbrella. Rain seemed to be coming at him from all sides, drenching his clothes. He trotted to the passenger door, only to realize he'd parked beside a storm drain.
Crap.
Rainwater was sweeping through the parking lot and gushing into the drain. He tried to put his keys into his pocket, but his pants were wet, which made it pretty much impossible. So he swapped his keys to the same hand he held the umbrella with and opened Liz's door. He leaned in and reached for her hand.
"Be careful stepping over the drain," he shouted over the storm.
Liz nodded. She swung her legs out, and Mark took her hand. She stepped over the drain and onto the sidewalk. In that moment, a gust of wind nearly tore the umbrella out of his hand. Tightening his grip, he held onto the umbrella.
And dropped his keys.
"Uh oh," he said.
"What's the matter?" Liz shouted.
