The Land of Rabbits (Long Shot Love Duet #1)

by Aven Jayce

  “Nope.”

  “Must’ve been Jess... stop following me.”

  “Why? I’m not your type? Not handsome enough? No interest whatsoever? You don’t like men? What?”

  “Stop.” My finger lands on his chest, keeping him two feet away. “You’re a prostitute.”

  “Nope.”

  “And your confidence that any woman would want to be with you is a total turn-off.” I hurry down the steps. “I bet you spend your days walking around half-naked and licking those full lips—”

  “You noticed my lip lick?”

  “Not interested,” I proclaim, reaching the bottom of the stairs. Not interested, yet.

  “Quinn.” An older woman with caked-on mascara points in our direction, then motions to the hallway leading to the dining area. “You’re water boy tonight. Tyler’s waiting.”

  “On my way.” He nods and disappears down the hall.

  I brush my hand down my dress, trying to smooth out a wrinkle, while giving her a gracious smile.

  “Your friends are seated by the pool.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Are you happy with your room?” she asks from behind the lobby desk. Her deep-set eyes are mesmerizing, like the unlit cigarette rolling between her two fingers. Wearing a sheer white blouse and moving a strand of dark hair behind her ear, she asks again, “Your room? Is it nice? Is there anything that you need? Anything that’ll make your stay better?”

  “It’s stunning. Thank you.”

  “Ms. Moore,” she calls out when I start to sneak away. “Are you interested in an upgrade?”

  “The room’s perfect.”

  “No, do you—”

  “My room’s perfect just how it is,” I repeat, aware of what she’s suggesting. She eyes me like a hawk until I reach the end of the hall.

  I walk through the indoor dining room and out an open door to a backyard paradise. The smell of grilled chicken, the sight of warm patio lights, and the sounds of horny, boisterous women flood my senses. A waiter carrying a tray of wine dashes past, giving me the opportunity to grab a glass before he’s out of reach. I take a sip to taste, then a gulp. It’s the perfect pep up after the long drive.

  “Crisp and sweet like a fresh apple.” Quinn reappears by my side, slipping into a white dress shirt, leaving the front unbuttoned. He raises a finger toward one of the servers, signaling he’ll be right over.

  “I hope you’re talking about the wine, otherwise that’s a derpy pick up line.”

  He laughs. “Derpy? Did you make that word up? The wine’s Riesling, and included with the cost of your room. Have as many as you’d like. And an upgrade to stay warm tonight will only cost you an extra five hundred, if you’re interested.”

  “Is everyone here trained to be this brash? Why so pushy? And why only five hundred, isn’t it five grand?”

  “Good, you’re curious... and yes.”

  “Yes, what?”

  He walks next to me, guiding me around the black iron patio tables. “It’s been eight months since an irregular showed up—”

  “Wait.” I stop him with a light touch to his forearm. “First you say I’m an oddity, then I’m in need of fetching, and now I’m an irregular?”

  “Sounds about right. A fetching, irregular, oddity.”

  “That’s not... you just changed the meaning... you’ve a lot of names for someone you just met. Irregular what? Like a pair of jeans you find at an outlet store with one leg shorter than the other?”

  His mouth turns upward on one side as he pretends to ponder my comment.

  “Not funny,” I say, snaking around guests, moving away from him... only he’s not giving up, staying a foot behind me.

  “You’d be brash too if you had just one night to spend with the most striking woman you’ve ever seen. The clock’s ticking.” He taps his watch. “Sixteen hours until you leave and I’m left with a vacant heart and holding your glass slipper.”

  “Excuse me? You think sixteen hours is enough time to start a relationship? Sorry, that’s so unrealistic.”

  “Addie.” Nadine waves me over.

  “It’s enough time to have a night you’ll remember for the rest of your life. Don’t be afraid to get a taste of me while you’re here. This is an enchanting place. Dream a little.”

  “I thought you weren’t on the menu.”

  “Addie,” she says again.

  “I’m not a full-course meal. No sex. I’m an appetizer.”

  He gets called over to the bar by another server, his warm breath fading as I continue to the table where Nadine, Jess, and Brian are seated. They’re alive with excitement and look stylish, having bought new outfits for the trip.

  “He’s a babe magnet.” Jess beams. “And nice. He wouldn’t take the ten bucks I wanted to pay him to go to your room. Did you kiss him?”

  “Sure, we fucked too... what do you think? I mean, seriously.”

  “Maybe next time... isn’t this place totally cool? There was a joint on the pillow in my room, a big fatty. I’m geekin’ out over it.”

  “Is that what all the grinning’s about? Not because you already got laid?” Brian says with a big laugh. “I was only gifted a bottle of beer, nothing illegal.”

  “I got chocolate,” I say. “Nothing illegal.”

  “What about you?” he asks Nadine.

  She shrugs and takes a sip of her wine.

  “Tell us!” Jess demands. “Oh, please. I want to know. Was your gift a lot heavier, like coke?”

  “Coke? Of course not. It’s an item for later tonight... a secret pleasure.”

  “Oh, come on. Stop being bashful,” Brian says.

  “Fine... if my husband insists... anal beads,” she answers in a kittenish voice.

  “Ermahgerd.” Jess’s mouth twists before exploding into laughter. “That’s awesome!”

  “Shh.” She blushes. “It was because of that question on the form. The one that asked what object, food, or drink is most gratifying to you?”

  “I did fill in ‘beer’ for that one,” Brian says.

  “Yep, guilty.” Jess nods. “I put down pot.”

  The three of us stare at Nadine, shaking our heads.

  “Anal beads? Jesus, I learn something new about my wife every day.” He unleashes a mischievous grin, clinking his glass to hers in approval.

  They have a fun marriage, not the kind I would ever want, nevertheless, fun. It’s rare for them to argue, and when they do, it’s always the same squabble about never having a kid. Brian wanted one, Nadine didn’t, and now they have a twenty-year-old... life’s full of surprises.

  I can picture my mom saying that in response to the anal bead comment. Life’s full of surprises. She used that expression often, but in a different context than the norm, usually when she was upset.

  She said it the night before she was murdered... it was the night she caught me having sex in my bedroom... the same night I lost my virginity. God, it was horrible. She walked in on my boyfriend and me, her hands on her hips, a twitching bottom lip, and said, “Well, isn’t life full of surprises.”

  She wasn’t supposed to be home for hours, but for some reason she ended her date early. And at that moment, when she walked in, I knew I was in for an earful.

  People say you never forget your first time. I sure as fuck won’t. On that summer night, my mom went to bed angry and I never saw her again. I shouldn’t have been so foolish to do it in her house. But my first time... I didn’t want to lose my virginity in the backseat of a car or a motel room. I wanted to be comfortable. Now I realize none of that shit matters.

  “Addie?” Nadine touches my hand. “Come back to me. You’re daydreaming again.”

  “Sorry.” I take a sip of wine and clear my throat, changing the subject. “Is there a chance we could get arrested for being here?”

  “Yes,” Brian says.

  “No,” Nadine negates his answer. “Have you ever heard about
mystery dinners?” she asks me. “Sometimes they take place on a train, where you have a meal while being part of a play? A crime occurs that you help solve and the lines are blurred between the actors and the participants. You become part of the show.”

  Jess cracks up. “Yeah, the mystery tonight is finding our vaginas.”

  “Shh,” she hushes.

  “Nadine, hun, bad comparison. This is a brothel for the rich. We’re paying for sex. Be frank with her.”

  “We’ve already discussed what it is,” I reply. “And I don’t care what you call it or if you guys are interested in prostitutes. I won’t think less of you if that’s what you’re worried about. Personally, I have very different feelings about it, but to each his own. What I am curious about is if the cops could raid the place and arrest us during our stay. Should I sleep with my clothes on, just in case?”

  “You’d be the only one,” Brian jokes. “But it’s unlikely that’ll happen. The retreat’s online site and password to apply aren’t easy to get your hands on. This wasn’t a place I came across on my own. You have to be referred by someone who’s already visited. Then, after your parties’ names have been checked out, you get a password to enter their site and fill out a reservation form and questionnaire.” My uncle glances at the other tables and waves us forward for privacy. “It’s for the elite,” he whispers. “And that includes the police chief’s wife, who just happens to be two tables away.”

  “Really?” Jess turns in that direction. “No way, she’s wearing the same dress as me. I knew I should’ve shopped at Nordstroms for this trip. Leave it to frickin’ Macy’s to make me look bad. At least my ass isn’t as wide as hers.”

  “You can’t blame Macy’s...”

  Nadine’s voice fades as I zone out on Quinn. He’s touching the guests’ shoulders as he fills their waters, making everyone feel relaxed and welcome. With his shirt still open, I follow his firm body, sparkling under the warm patio lights. He snaps a napkin in the air and places it on a woman’s lap, petting her thigh as he spreads the cloth open. Fuck, what a turn-on.

  “You might want to close your mouth and wipe the drool off your chin before he comes over here.”

  I toss my napkin at Jess to clam up. “I’m looking. That’s it. There’s no harm in watching the guy.”

  “No harm in getting naked between the sheets, either. You should buy him,” she says. “Roxanne said there’s an upgrade.”

  “Who’s Roxanne?” I ask, no longer staring.

  “The woman at the desk. She owns the place.”

  “Doesn’t that name always remind you guys of that song by The Police?” Brian starts to sing, sounding more like a man with a head cold than Sting.

  “I know, right Brian? Or that movie with Steve Martin and Daryl Hannah,” Jess says.

  “I think that song is about falling in love with a prostitute.” Nadine touches her husband’s hand as she speaks. “It’s sexy. You remember the video?”

  I rest my elbow on the table and my chin in my hand, expelling an exaggerated sigh. “Am I the only adult here? How can falling in love with a whore be sexy?”

  “Yes, you’re the only adult and you should be extremely proud of yourself.” Nadine pokes my foot with hers.

  They make light of everything, always ribbing, spirited prods here and there... it’s exactly what they’re trying to revive in me.

  “I’m amused that my family—the people who took me in because I was a miserable wreck—have brought me to a place where I’m under-age, but allowed to drink.” I hold up my wine. “And you guys are pressuring me to pay for sex. You’re all off the deep end. A bunch of fucking bad influences.”

  “Yes, that’s true too,” she says playfully. “Except I doubt anyone here cares about the legal drinking age.”

  “No, we don’t.” Quinn leans forward, filling the waters. His hand slides down to the small of my back, moving his fingers in a gentle circling motion. “As long as you’re eighteen, you can enter the devil’s gate and do whatever the fuck you want.”

  “Wow.” Jess gawks. “I love the tone of your voice when you say ‘fuck.’ Totally panty wetting. How old are you?”

  “Twenty-one.”

  The light pressure from his circling fingers is incredible. Slow... tender... I can picture him using them in other places. And his warm breath is back, traveling down the front of my dress, coating my breasts.

  “Addie’s twenty. The two of you should hang out tonight. Enjoy each other’s company and relax.” She points at me. “Get drunk, get laid, smoke a bowl, swim naked, have sex a second time. Do all that cool stuff you’re supposed to do at your age.”

  “I guess I’m just not cool.”

  “Pfft.” She flops her hand, dismissing my comment. “Tell me the last time you did the wild hog.”

  “What the heck kind of expression is that? You sound like such a dope.”

  “When does the fun begin?” Nadine interrupts, looking at Quinn for an answer. “I’m starting to sweat in this dress. My hair’s droopy from the humidity and I’ve got stubble on my legs from waiting so long. Plus the anticipation of... of...”

  “Anal beads?” Brian mocks, unbuttoning his lightweight sport coat.

  They’re drunk. I can tell by my aunt’s red face, and my uncle—he’d never say anal beads in front of a stranger. No way.

  “Yes, Brian.” She leans forward with rosy cheeks. “I’m impatient for my sex toy. And I can tell you’re never going to let me live this down.”

  “Never. But I’m sure you’ll be hard on me as soon as you see... when my...” He leans back, his eyes opening wide in amazement. “Hot damn.”

  We follow his gaze, seeing a woman dressed in a skin-tight leather cat suit, rocking her colossal hips as she heads our way.

  “Holy mother of pearl. You picked a cat?” Jess teases. “That’s such a guy thing. Oh, and do you see those... those gigantic boobs! They’re not even covered.”

  “I see ‘em.” Nadine squirms. “They have to hang out so she can breathe.” She adjusts the straps on her formless dress, nonchalantly checking her own breasts in comparison. She’s thin for her age, and this fictional cat who just straddled Brian’s waist is a full-figured animal.

  “Meeeow,” she says with a sensuous purr.

  Lashes flutter under the cat hood and her long, pointy nails claw at his chest. He’s snatched from the chair, rebounding back for a hurried goodnight kiss and an “I love you” whispered to Nadine, before being led to a table on the opposite side of the patio.

  The guests “ooh” and “aah,” desperate for their chosen fantasy to appear.

  “I knew he was gonna pick her. I just knew it.”

  “Reminds me of that time he told us his comic books turned him on as a kid.” Jess’s eyes dart as one-by-one the giddy women around us are guided by their one-night possessions to private tables. “Lots of testosterone flying through the story in those comics, men fighting and busty women displayed throughout the pages.”

  “That’s plenty of information about my uncle’s erotic desires, thank you very much.”

  “Do you think the woman Brian picked plays all of the female characters here?” Jess ignores my remark. “And why do men just have white women to choose from? Nothing like our list of sixty potential players—every height, weight, and race are represented.”

  “The cat’s black. And she looks sumptuous,” I say, pouring more wine. “I don’t know about you, but I always considered a black cat to be black, unless I’m way off base and tortoiseshell is the new black, then she’s not black at all, now is she?”

  “What?” Nadine laughs. “You’re cut off from drinking after that glass... by the way, where’d Quinn run off to?”

  I shrug, studying the surroundings. Two servers come and go through the back dining room door, carrying salads and water, their white shirts hanging open. There’s a small outdoor bar built from weathered fieldstone and a bartender covered in tatto
os mixing drinks. His laugh is distinct, sinister sounding, like a mocking cackle. I’ve heard it before, but can’t place his character.

  I try to keep a poker face as I ask my next question...

  “What’s the five hundred dollar upgrade everyone’s been talking about?”

  “See, I told you if we kept pushing she’d go for it,” Jess says. “It’s a touch.” Her voice rises in my direction. “No kissing, fondling, rubbing your vagina, jerking off, or penetration. No fluids exchanged. Nothing’s going in or coming out. There’s no cum shot from him and no screaming orgasm from you. Just a touch.” She turns to Nadine. “Get her the upgrade. I’ll chip in.”

  “I didn’t say I was going for it... but what do you mean by a touch?”

  “A full-body massage with conversation. That’s it. The old-biddy special for women reluctant to go all the way.”

  “Ahh, ha-ha!” A crowing laugh from the bartender silences the open air—from the women, to the birds, to the nearby stream and the light breeze—the earth halts.

  “You wanna fight, you wimpy fuck?”

  Quinn’s in front of him, rolling his sleeves to ready himself, while Roxanne stands off to the side with an entertained smile.

  The bartender spits and raises his hands, springing everywhere. One hop left... bouncing... a hop right, then taking two practice swings, coming an inch from his face.

  “Let’s do this, fucker. I’m gonna kick your ass.”

  He’s a spectacle, stealing the scene with a split lip, short spikey hair, and a chest twice the size of Quinn’s. Tall, muscular, his pants low, pubic hair showing, and that cackle...

  “Oh my God.” Jess gasps. “Naddie... Naddie.” She tugs at my aunt’s arm. “He’s mine. That one’s mine. My favorite movie man ever! Look at him. Look!”

  “She picked Tyler,” a woman says.

  After all that, the fake fight is quick, lasting only a second. Quinn goes down in one punch. On his back and pretending to be out.

  “Ahh, ha-ha-ha.” The bartender lights a cigarette, his cheeks sunken when he inhales. With a puff of smoke and a squint, he gives Quinn a swift kick before walking toward our table.