by Tina Donahue
Even though the bulk of Lauren’s work involved cost cutting and placing ads to sell the parlor, she arrived early every day, wanting to see Dante.
Today her routine also included a walk around the area. Not for exercise. She kept searching for places where he might take her—in a carnal sense. Exposed areas that would prove exciting but wouldn’t get them arrested.
Dante wasn’t a fool.
Rarely had Lauren met anyone as intelligent, which caused her to wonder again what he’d done before coming to Wicked Brand. His great looks made him prime model material. Deep inside, she knew that kind of life wouldn’t have satisfied him. It was too phony, and he certainly wasn’t swayed by money.
The mystery continued.
Shrugging it off, she scanned buildings that were now a part of her world and were beginning to seem too much like home. There was the one where the artist painted outside, cafes with outrageously expensive menus, trendy shops selling stuff she couldn’t afford. Weeks ago, that would have made her feel like a loser because of her dwindling finances. This morning, she regarded the stores’ display windows, picturing herself and Dante on one of the restaurant tables or among the merchandise and mannequins, going at it like there was no tomorrow.
Sure.
On her way back to the parlor, she scanned the tops of the buildings, thinking they could frolic naked up there and still be safe. With the stars above them, it would also be very romantic tonight. She had no doubt about the timing. Yesterday evening, Dante had told her not to bring peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for dinner.
“Ever?” she’d asked. “Or just for tomorrow?”
“Starting tomorrow,” he’d hedged.
She’d pretended to be wounded. “You don’t like my cooking?”
“Do you?”
She’d laughed. “No. But wherever we eat tomorrow night, we go Dutch.”
“Depends on what we eat,” he’d said and refused to discuss it further.
Thinking of it now, she pictured them going at each other’s hot spots, her on top, him on the bottom. Licking, lapping, suckling.
She wiped perspiration from the back of her neck, which wasn’t entirely from her racy thoughts. It was barely eleven o’clock and already too steamy to stay outdoors for long. The tourists hurried from one air-conditioned shop to another.
Lauren left those buildings behind and stopped short of Wicked Brand, seeing a black pickup parked in a nearby space. Couldn’t belong to a customer. The parlor didn’t open for another hour. As far as Van Gogh and Jasmina were concerned, Lauren had thought that neither of them had wheels. Even if they did, she couldn’t imagine them owning a vehicle that looked like this one. Sleek and muscled.
Exactly like Dante.
Lauren rounded the pickup. Her mouth went dry at the back bed that was long enough for some serious action between them. Him on top of her, pounding away. Or her straddling—
Wait. He’d clearly said they wouldn’t be in a vehicle when they went to the next level. Was the back bed of a pickup considered in or out? Hurrying into the parlor, Lauren stopped just inside his workstation, surprised he wasn’t in the room and that there was a large picnic basket parked on one of the chairs.
There were going on a picnic? That opened up endless possibilities in an area with countless parks and miles of beach. She imagined them running naked through the surf. Dante mounting her behind a stand of palm trees, taking her on the deserted lifeguard stand, screwing her like crazy within sight of one of the hotels.
Before her imagination got too lusty, she leaned past the doorway to see if he was in the backroom. The lights were still off. Turning, she flinched at him in the hall near her office door. Clearly, he’d gone inside and found it empty.
“You made food for tonight?” she asked.
Not answering, he grinned at her chambray skirt that she’d bought on eBay for ten bucks. Vintage style, it gathered at the waist, flared at the lacy white hem and landed just above her knees. Long enough to be decent if she didn’t wear panties, which she hadn’t.
Dante studied her white tee as though it were the holy grail. That alone told Lauren her nipples were surely poking against the stretchy fabric.
“Huh?” he said.
“What did you make for tonight?”
“Make?”
Lauren suppressed a snicker, liking how her boobs reduced him to monosyllables. “As in food. For tonight.” She gestured to the basket.
He laughed. “Nothing. I’m saving my strength for other stuff. Now scoot.” He swatted her ass playfully and went into his workstation.
Lauren rubbed her smacked butt, wanting more of that. “Scoot?”
“No more questions.” He tossed his wallet in the drawer followed by a ring of keys.
She knew one of those suckers opened the parlor. Another surely was to his place. The next for his truck? “Is that your pickup outside? You drove it today to bring us to the next level? Wherever that may be,” she mumbled then continued. “If you didn’t make anything for us to eat, what’s in the basket?”
Condoms? Sex toys? Ropes or cuffs? A blindfold? Curious and thrilled, Lauren slipped her thumb beneath one of the flaps to open it.
Dante pushed her hand away and put the basket in a top cabinet. Too high for her to reach unless she stood on one of the chairs. “Go,” he ordered. “Not another question or there won’t be any fun tonight.”
Lauren opened her mouth to argue then promptly shut it without saying a word.
The day dragged endlessly. Dante avoided her, pretending not to notice the way she kept strolling by his workstation. When he didn’t have any customers, he closed his door, something he never did.
Jasmina noticed. She cornered Lauren in the hall and pulled her to the empty front end of the parlor. “What’s wrong with Dante?” she whispered. “Did he finally take you to dinner like I suggested? Didn’t you guys have a good time? Didn’t you let him kiss you good night? Is that why his door’s closed? You rejected him?”
With Jasmina’s rapid-fire questions, Lauren finally understood how Dante felt about hers. “We had a nice time,” she said and left it at that.
The young woman’s face brightened. “Then you did go out. I knew it. Did he kiss you?”
All fucking over. “Ah no,” she lied. Despite the fun she and Dante continued to have, Lauren reminded herself that it was only temporary. She didn’t want Jasmina’s hope for a grand romance to cloud her own good sense. She didn’t want to long for something that could never be. “We’re just coworkers.”
Jasmina’s happiness collapsed. “You could be lovers. I see it every time you look at each other.”
Lauren wanted to hear more then told herself that was nuts. Jasmina was young and impressionable. Life hadn’t steamrolled her yet. Hell, she was the type of woman who’d fight back, pulverizing anything in her way while smiling sweetly. “He’ll never want for women. Just look at him.”
Jasmina crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “You’re too caught up in looks. Dante’s more than that.”
No kidding. He was attentive, fun, generous, fair and kind. What planet had he come from? Guys were supposed to be feckless like Frank, abandoning their loved ones at will.
You’re not a loved one, Lauren reminded herself.
She and Dante had grown to be friends. That meant they had a good time without all the other junk screwing things up. Once real passion entered the equation, all bets were off for a happily ever after.
“He’s wonderful,” Lauren admitted then reluctantly added, “as a friend. Only a friend.”
Jasmina looked almost as bummed by that as Lauren felt and went back to work.
Lauren buried herself in her endless job search and her quest to sell this place. More loons had answered her ads about the parlor. She deleted their emails, rewrote the notices with the caveat that only serious offers would be considered and put them on the sites. To her surprise, one of the places where she’d applied for an HR job had sent a perso
nality test and requested detailed information on her responsibilities at her last employer.
Lauren hyperventilated for a few minutes then got to work, studying her files on how to ace personality tests. After that, she scoured the ones she’d administered to applicants during her career. Then she practiced for hours, wanting to come off as extremely competent but not a threat to a higher-up. Easy to work with but firm in administering company policy. Knowledgeable yet eager to learn. Able to hit the ground running no matter what anyone asked of her, especially if it was impossible. In other words, perfect.
She sweated over every detail before taking the test so she could breeze through it. To her surprise and relief, neither Jasmina nor Dante interrupted her for lunch or anything else. Lauren figured Jasmina had moved on from the Lauren and Dante love affair to her own. Dante most likely had made himself scarce because he didn’t want to dodge any more of her questions.
Lauren debated whether to tell him about the personality test and request for more info. Since it wasn’t a job offer, she decided against it. Already her excitement had tempered to cautious optimism. In a few more hours, she’d probably be convinced this would lead nowhere just as her few interviews had.
Besides, there was other stuff to consider—the contents of the picnic basket, where he was driving them and what sinful activities were at the next level. A fantasy she and Dante were building before reality pressed in, which it would. Though not tonight.
At the sharp rap on her door, Lauren glanced at the time. A few minutes past closing. She shut down her computer and smiled.
There’d been times today when Dante hadn’t believed this moment would come.
Van Gogh had taken forever to clean up his workstation and split. Before Jasmina had left, she kept studying Dante as though she expected him to do or say something. About what, he hadn’t a clue.
Finally, he’d asked, “What?”
Jasmina had given him a sympathetic look. “I was so sure about…” She paused, obviously reluctant to say more then finally sighed, “Things will get better. Just give it time.”
He’d been totally lost as to what she meant but nodded readily, wanting to get rid of her. He couldn’t wait for this evening with Lauren.
She opened the door, her smile luminous until she looked to either side of him. A frown replaced her delight. “Where is it?”
Taking her hand, Dante placed her palm on his fly. His cock twitched appreciatively. “Where it’s always been.”
“Seriously?” She slipped her hand down his jeans and cupped his balls.
Lord, that felt nice. He blew out a sigh.
She murmured, “You’re right. Everything’s where it should be except for the picnic basket. Did you forget it?”
It took Dante a moment to understand her question. She kept stroking his balls, not letting him think of anything other than the sensations coiling in his groin, growing to a dangerous level.
Before his lust got the better of him, he pulled her hand away. “It’s in the pickup.”
“What’s inside?”
“Seats. A steering wheel. The dashboard. Floor mats.”
Lauren laughed. “Not the truck.” She got serious again. “The basket.”
“You’ll see.”
She made a face. “Where are we going?”
“Nowhere if you don’t stop asking questions. Don’t you trust me?”
Her expression changed from frustrated to surprised then apologetic. “Of course I do. You’d never let us get arrested.”
Whoa. What? He wondered what she thought he had in the basket. “Damn right. At least not until we’ve had some fun first. Come on.” Ignoring her sudden disquiet, he pulled her out of the building and settled her in the passenger seat of his pickup. “The seatbelt goes on,” he ordered. “I want you safe.”
She buckled up.
“Lift your skirt.”
Lauren stared at him then the garment. Dante helped her, pushing the fabric to the tops of her legs. After piling in on his side, he lifted the armrests and started the engine. “Turn toward me and spread your thighs.”
Suddenly, her attention was everywhere as though a crowd had gathered with their faces pressed against his windows. Several couples who were probably tourists wandered down the walk looking limp from the heat. A few cars passed. Dante rested his hand on the inside of Lauren’s thigh. She moaned softly. He just about groaned at the silky smoothness of her skin and the fact that he couldn’t take her right now as he wanted.
“Lauren.” He paused to control himself. “Do you want this?” He slid his hand to her pussy and buried his fingertips in her springy hair.
“Oh yeah,” she breathed.
Dante pulled back his hand. “Then turn toward me and spread your thighs.”
This time, she obeyed immediately.
He ran his fingers down her moist cleft, smiling at her prolonged sigh. “See what you get when you cooperate?”
She mumbled something and wriggled closer. Pleased, Dante pulled out of the parking space. While he drove, he rested his hand on her thigh. At each stoplight, he played with her cunt, tugging her curls, running his fingers over her clit. She puffed out a sigh, sucked in more air then lost it again. By the time they’d traveled several miles, Lauren seemed to have forgotten the nearby vehicles. Either that or she no longer cared if those pickups and SUVs were high enough for their passengers to peer inside here.
She was his. Willing. Wanting.
Life was looking good. He coaxed her closer to orgasm at the next light. When it turned green, Dante pulled away, went a short distance then parked.
The second he took his hand from her, Lauren whined, “No. Don’t stop. I’m almost there. Let me finish.”
“You bet.” He got out, took the basket from the floor of the backseat and went around to her side.
She frowned. “You left me hanging.”
“Consider it a slight delay.” He unbuckled her belt and ran his hand beneath her skirt. She breathed sharply at him cupping her naked ass to help her out of the vehicle.
Hurriedly, she smoothed down her skirt and regarded the quiet residential street bathed in shadows. The soft glow of an occasional streetlamp and hazy moonlight were all that interrupted the velvety dark. The air was humid but fresh, the scent of the Atlantic mingling with the fragrance of countless flowers, vegetation and mown lawns.
Lauren leaned into him and whispered, “You live here?”
He smiled. “No. Now we walk.” He took her hand.
She held his tightly. “To where?”
“You’ll see.”
He led her across the street and down several others. They passed residents out for a stroll or walking their dogs. Dante exchanged brief greetings with them. Lauren took everything in, no doubt trying to figure out where they’d stop. At last, they reached the spot Dante wanted.
She halted immediately at the cop car near the entrance to the park. Dante pulled her along.
“What are you doing?” she whispered. “We can’t go in there. It’s closed. Don’t you see the cop?”
The officer lowered his window and grinned at him. “Hey, man.”
“Hey yourself,” Dante called out. Gabe had been a good friend for years.
After giving Lauren the once-over, Gabe offered Dante a thumbs-up and pulled away.
Lauren looked over at the departing patrol car. “Did you use to be a cop?”
He laughed. “Nope. I do know quite a few though.”
“They cleared out the park for you tonight?”
“It closed at sunset.”
“But they won’t arrest us because you set this up with them.”
He wondered why Lauren was so stuck on them being arrested. If that was one of her fantasies. Not answering, Dante led her across the parking lot and lawn to a massive banyan tree, its gnarled trunk nearly the width of a house. In the distance, the city glittered, its bright lights bleeding into the water. He took a cotton blanket from the basket and spread
it over the grass.
“Down you go.” With his arm around her waist, he helped Lauren to the ground.
She seemed stumped on how to sit, folding her legs one way then another, none of them comfortable. All of them too modest for him.
“Sit cross-legged,” he said. “Pull up your skirt so I can see your cunt.”
Her gaze darted everywhere as though someone might be listening. She pressed her skirt between her legs. “What else is in the basket?” She reached for it.
Dante pulled it away. “Show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”
Lauren snickered. After checking out their surroundings and seeing that they were alone, though technically exposed, she folded back her skirt.
“Higher,” Dante ordered. “Push it above your bush. Hell, forget that. Take it off.”
She spoke demurely, “The hair doesn’t come off.”
“You know what I mean. Lose the skirt.”
Lauren lifted it to the edge of her cunt and left it at that.
Dante narrowed his eyes. “You do realize I could spank you out here and Gabe wouldn’t lift a finger to help you. Neither would any of the other guys. They’d cheer me on.”
“Gabe? Guys?”
“The cop we just passed. The other officers on the force.”
She nodded. “Threaten me all you want. The skirt doesn’t move until you show me yours.”
“You asked for it.” He pulled two bottles of Skol from the basket along with foil-wrapped packages and a paper bag. Quickly, Lauren peeked at the goods. “You brought French fries and sandwiches?”
She sounded surprised. Maybe disappointed.
“Cubanos,” he corrected. Cuban sandwiches stuffed with pulled pork, ham, Swiss cheese, dill pickles and mustard, the bread grilled to perfection. “And plantain fries.”
Peeling back the foil, she moaned at the savory scent of the sandwich then leaned over to look into the basket again.
Dante pulled a cloth napkin from it that he’d gotten from his uncle’s restaurant. Although he handed the napkin to Lauren, she wasn’t appeased. She kept craning her neck to see more of the basket when all he’d left inside was his napkin and a bag of churros for dessert. “What did you think I had in here?”
