The fiery determination had returned. There she is, I thought.
“Okay, I told you about what I’m studying and, since it’s a doctoral program, well, it means I’ve got years ahead of me. I am determined not to take a decade to finish my degree.”
“I can understand that. Go on,” I encouraged.
She gave a hint of a nod. “Right, so there’s this year-long seminar. Well, it’s not a seminar, per se. It’s more like a qualitative study with me as the guinea pig.”
That raised both brows. “Come again?”
“Professor Aaron Bails is a leader in the field of human sexuality. He was one of the last students of Alfred Kinsey and still conducts research through the Kinsey Institute. Anyway, he believes there’s no way we can ever truly help people with their sexual dysfunctions or embrace their proclivities unless we’ve gone through the process ourselves . . .”
I was waiting for her to drop the bomb.
“ . . . which means in order to be part of this seminar, I need to be having regular sex with a partner for a minimum of four months . . . and I need to document what occurs, not in a salacious way . . . no video or anything like that. But both my partner and I need to be brutally honest about what we experience and what we fantasize about . . . and I want it to be you.”
And there it was . . . BOOM.
I was the guy who usually had a sarcastic retort, but this time?
I had nothing.
“We don’t have to be monogamous, as long as we’re practicing safe sex. And it’s not like we’d be ‘dating’ or anything. I’m not going to ‘catch feelings’ if that’s what you’re worrying about.”
I barked out a laugh as I rubbed my hand over my face. “I’ve got to admit, that was not what I expected you to ask me.”
She worried the corner of her bottom lip with her teeth. “I understand if you want time to think about it.”
I didn’t need time. I needed answers.
“Okay, let me get this straight,” I said, rubbing the furrow along my forehead. “This ass clown wants to hear the details of your sex life?”
She grimaced. “Not in the way you’re thinking. Professor Bails wants all his students to explore their own sexuality. It’s the chance to dig deep into what makes us tick, to go down the rabbit hole, so to speak. How can we expect to help others if we don’t go through the work ourselves?”
I looked down at the mug of tea she had made for me, wishing it were a cup of strong coffee. Bourbon would be even better.
“Makes sense,” I said, tugging at the string on the tea bag. “Listen, you know I’m interested in you. I wouldn’t have shown up here if I wasn’t. But now the whole thing feels, I don’t know . . .”
She interrupted. “Forced?”
“Something like that.”
Her mouth formed into a perfect ‘O’ as she lifted her cup and blew on it. I lost some of my brain function as some blood flew south, straight to my dick.
What the fuck is your problem? She’s basically saying you can fuck her five ways ‘til Sunday and you’re ticked off because she didn’t take you to dinner and tell you you’re pretty first?
But, of course, I’m, well . . . me, which meant I needed to pick at the scab some more.
“I know you want to graduate as fast as possible, but wouldn’t you prefer to wait until you had, I don’t know, someone steady in your life? You know, half the fun is letting something unfold between two people.”
She cocked her head. “Who says I’m not letting something unfold? I’m just giving you a heads up there’s something extra in it for me.”
I stilled as she gave an impish grin, with a glint in her eye.
Bam—a direct hit.
I got off the stool and walked around the kitchen island, liking how her eyes rounded watching me.
“Only one thing left to figure out then,” I said.
I didn’t hesitate; I drove my fingers deep into her lustrous hair, yanked her towards me and took that pink mouth of hers.
I wasn’t gentle, either. I was too hungry, but when her moan vibrated down my throat, I took that as a sign she was good with a little rough. It was barely autumn, but she already tasted like Christmas, nutmeg and spicy cinnamon tea. Sweet with an edge.
Small, delicate hands gripped my shirt at the sides as I felt her soft curves pressed against me. I slid one hand around the back of her neck while letting the other move its way down and around her waist. I pulled her even closer, so tempted to fall on my knees and strip her out of those faded jeans, feast between those thick thighs of hers.
I could do that for days and never feel sated.
I’ve had people call ‘bullshit,’ but I swear, I preferred going down on a woman even more than a blowjob. Getting head was great, but I got off on being surrounded by a woman’s velvet heat, having her musky scent permeate my senses.
But I wasn’t some idiot fuckboy. Never was, never will be. Alice might act as if she was all good with just slamming between the sheets, but I don’t know . . . I didn’t buy it. Not with her. And I’ve learned to always trust my gut.
So even though my cock was begging for release, I broke the kiss and tried to catch my breath. It was the same for her. Alice’s cheeks were flushed, the pink of her cheeks making the blue of her eyes darken, like a beautiful, Southern storm.
She placed her hand on the center of my chest and smiled as my heart raced beneath her palm.
“You feel what you’re already doing to me?” I asked, my voice sounding like gravel, even though everything else felt like liquid silk. “Who knew science could be this much fun?”
Alice nodded through her dazed stare. “Yeah, I think it’s safe to say we have chemistry.”
We locked eyes and laughed.
And then, her sister walked in-and that killed the mood, as Alice would say, ‘right quick.’
In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again.
―Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
Alice
I had been so excited that Dare agreed to be part of my case study, I couldn’t get to sleep later that night. So, I did something I swore I’d never do.
I took one of my sister’s Ambien.
I don’t know why I thought I would get off easy. Lulu gets Ambien-esia. Rayna
starts Ambi-texting old boyfriends and if my sister doesn’t take hers at the exact right time, she’s a Zambie (zombie because of Ambien hangover the next day). I usually refuse to take the stuff because I’m convinced those lil’ fuckers ruin short-term memory.
And dear Lord, that voodoo pill knocked me out faster than Floyd Mayweather did to that poor little MMA fighter man. I mean, I was out. Or at least I thought I was.
“Well, isn’t that craptastic,” I muttered under my breath.
It was the next morning and I was having a slow start. But that was the least of everything.
“What’s wrong?” my sister asked. She was already dressed and ready for the day.
Meanwhile, I looked like something rolled over me in my sleep. I shuffled out of bed towards the bathroom. “It’s nothing,” I lied. There was no way I was telling her I did the modern-day equivalent of drinking and dialing.
While doing my business, I sat on my ‘throne’ and read a text exchange I had absolutely no memory of having. Yep. I’m all class and a bucket of chicken.
DARE: So I know I’ve agreed to donate my body in the name of science, but are you up for grabbing some dinner before we knock boots?
ALICE: I don’t mean to sound crass, but just so you know, in case I hadn’t made that clear the other day . . . in the name of science . . . I’m a sure thing
DARE: Cute. I’m still taking you to dinner
ALICE: Wait a sec. I am not looking to date or have a boyfriend. What makes you think I’m going to have dinner with you?
DARE: Because my dick’s your golden ticket to your doctorate.
ALICE: Nic
e mouth
DARE: Wouldn’t you like to know
ALICE: Actually, I would, which brings me back to getting together later
DARE: Yeah, we’ll do that. We’re also getting dinner
ALICE: But why? It’s not like I need you to wine and dine me. I can’t go through another Chad. I’m not shrinking myself down ever again.
DARE: I got that, Dixie and we’ll get into that Chad scenario later. I’m assuming he’s your ex. But for the now, just because I’ve agreed to be your lab rat, that doesn’t make us animals. Meet you at Blade, @ eight
ALICE: Fine, but only because I’m hungry. Do I have popcorn?
DARE: I didn’t get to memorize the contents of your kitchen, sweet cheeks. So can’t help you there.
ALICE: That’s okay. I’ll make biscuits or something.
DARE: You’re going to make homemade biscuits?
ALICE: Yep. Butter and biscuits. Buttering biscuits. Come over and butter my biscuit big boy. Damn, I love an alliteration!
DARE: I’m guessing it’s past your bedtime. Get some sleep, beautiful.
ALICE: You don’t want to butter my biscuits?
DARE: Did you drink tonight?
ALICE: That’s a negatory.
DARE: Take any pills?
ALICE: I’m sleeping with the Earl of Ambien, if that’s what you’re getting at.
DARE: Yeah, that’s what I thought. Put the phone down, princess, and I’ll check on you later. We’ll be having a talk about the Ambien.
ALICE: But first, you’re going to feed me, right?
DARE: Yes ma’am.
ALICE: Alright, since you were so stinkin’ polite. Good night, Dare to be Square.
DARE: Goodnight Alice in Wonderland.
The minute I walked out of the bathroom, my sister was on me.
“Okay, spill it,” she said.
I glanced up from my phone. “Huh?”
She pursed her lips. “You know I hate it when you play dumb.”
“I promise, I’m not playing dumb. I’m just more wiped than a whiteboard.”
Caroline was dressed in what I called her work uniform: high-waisted, charcoal skirt with a silk cream blouse, low heels with a red, cashmere cardigan and a string of pearls and pearl button earrings. The pearls weren’t real, but they were her ‘good fakes’ so she took good care of them. Her gorgeous mane of auburn hair was pulled back into a bun.
She looked like a schoolmarm, but that was the point. Rayna was always saying Caroline was a natural Domme, even offering to train her, something hordes of women and men would kill for.
I kept talking. “By the way, remind me to never take those pills again,” I said. “Earl Ambien made me agree to have dinner with Dare tonight.”
Her lips quirked in wry smile. “You’re going, right?”
“Yes, sister,” I said. “You can relax. He’s insisting on a proper date and all.”
“Well, I should hope so,” she said, her eyes getting soft. “You’re my shiny jewel baby. Remember that.”
My throat tightened. “Don’t start now,” I said.
My sister practically raised me and she always called me her ‘jewel baby’ whenever her maternal side was poking through.
“You know, you didn’t have to chase him off yesterday,” Caroline went on. “I know I, for one, would’ve liked to get to know him better.”
I gave her a look. “Don’t get attached. Dare and I are not going to be a thing.”
That earned another displeased look. “You know, not every guy is going to be like Chad, insisting on all your spare time, enlisting his family to groom you into some perfect lil’ Stepford bride.”
“How would I know that? Chad was my first real boyfriend and I let him monopolize everything,” I said, getting angry at myself all over again. “No, I’m here for school, not for anything else. I don’t need the distractions.”
“We’ll see,” she said. “Alright, I’ve got to go and teach a bunch of entitled, Upper East Siders’ children how to at least fake being polite.”
“I feel your struggle.”
There was a knock. “I’ll get it,” she said.
Caroline grabbed her briefcase and umbrella, looking like a modern Mary Poppins, and opened the door. Rayna was there, in mid knock.
“Hey girl,” Caroline said.
“On your way out?” she asked.
“Yeah, but Alice is here.”
I waved from the couch. “Hey Ray-Ray,” I called out. I loved when she came over.
“Then you’re the lucky bitch of the hour,” Rayna said as she winked at my sister leaving.
“Bye you two. Have fun,” Caroline said as she closed our door.
“Bye!” Rayna and I said in unison.
She sashayed across the room and wiggled herself into our navy loveseat. Judging from her outfit, she was on her way to the gym.
“How is it possible you don’t have a stitch of make-up on, hair up in a pony, wearing sweats and you’re still the most gorg woman I’ve ever seen?” I asked while I picked the sleep out of my eyes.
“Dios mio,” she muttered under her breath. “This is why I no longer have roommates.”
I snorted. “Please, you don’t have roommates because you don’t need roommates. Don’t you own this building?”
“Pequeno, I own this building and two more, one in Spanish Harlem and another in Long Island City. Real estate is my future. I’m not going to want to punish bad little boys my whole life.”
“Man, I am in the wrong business,” I mumbled.
“I know that’s right,” she said, putting her feet up on the coffee table. Even with no makeup on, I swear she still looked like a movie star.
Almond shaped, amber colored eyes with natural, long lashes, a mane of expresso-brown, shampoo commercial-worthy hair . . . let’s just say, I may measure as straight on the Kinsey Heterosexual-Homosexual Scale, but I still had to tell myself–often—to stop staring.
I’m sure she felt it, but if she did, Rayna knew how to handle people.
“So, how’s school going?” she asked.
“It’s good,” I said as I gestured towards the kitchen. “I’m making myself some tea. Want some?”
“Sure. You know how I like it.”
I nodded, getting up, talking over my shoulder. “Everything happens faster here in New York.”
Rayna laughed. “No shit, honey. What did you expect?”
I filled the teakettle with our bottled water. Rayna didn’t ever drink from the tap. “Yes, I get that, but I feel like I have to wind myself up, like one of those old toys, and everyone’s going a million miles a minute while I’m still searching for the ‘on’ switch.”
“So, how are you holding up?”
I shrugged. “I’m fine. I mean, I think I’m running on adrenaline. Most nights I can’t wait to come home and crash, but then I think about everything I learned in my seminars that day and the people I’ve met and then I’m up half the night. Got so bad, I took one of my sister’s Ambiens.”
She grabbed a throw pillow from behind her back and pitched it in my direction. “Are you crazy? You know that shit’s the worst!”
I waved her off. “I know, I know.”
“Ugh, the last time I took one of those, I actually texted Brian . . . took me a month to shake him off,” she said with a visible shiver. “Soooo needy.”
“Yeah, that’s not something one wouldn’t expect from the AntiChrist of Rock,” I said, grabbing the cups and cream. Brian was the real name of Marilyn Manson, whom she dated for a few months last year. She dumped him after he asked her to play ‘mean mommy’ one too many times.
“Girl, Ambi-texting is a real and surreal problem,” she said, getting up and walking over to the kitchen. She leaned a hip against the counter. “Don’t you have class today?”
“No, only on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but I’m TA’ing for Professor Whitmore, which means I have a ton of tests to grade today.”
“Oh, that’s a shame. I cam
e over because I’ve got this charity event tonight,” she said, watching me make her tea. I handed it to her. “Thanks. Want to come?”
We all loved going with Ray-Ray to any of her events or soirees—because they were always the furthest things from typical, even for New York.
“I think I have a date tonight.”
She cocked her head to the side. “You think?”
I chuckled. “No, it’s definitely a date. I’m supposed to meet Dare at a place called Blade. Have you heard of it?”
She muttered something in Spanish under her breath that I didn’t catch. “Honey, he means business if you’re going there.”
Now I was nervous. “What? Why?”
She shrugged while blowing on her tea. “It’s very romantic. And no one will bother him there.”
“What do you mean ‘bother’ him?” I asked.
She sipped her tea and smiled. “You are the only one who makes my tea exactly how I like it.”
I smiled.
“It’s a shame we’re friends. I should’ve hired you to be my assistant before we did all the bonding,” she went on.
“Yeah, I weep for what might have been,” I said. “Explain what you meant.”
She rolled her eyes. “What I meant was, he’s a local celebrity, a big deal in the New York art world,” she said, hopping onto one of the kitchen island stools. “I imagine every struggling artist wants his help and most every woman wants a taste of him and his lifestyle.”
“Well, not me,” I said. “I just need him for my research.”
She laughed. “Yes, I heard about that. Your Southern charm game must be strong in order for him to agree to that.”
“Please, he’s getting to have no-strings sex. I didn’t have to sell it that hard.”
She gave me a look over the rim of her teacup. “He’s not the typical guy, Alice.”
“What have you heard? Please don’t tell me he’s one of your clients,” I said while absentmindedly picking at my cuticles. She reached across the island and play-slapped my hands.
“Stop that,” she ordered. “You have beautiful hands. Don’t ruin them by picking them to death.”
The Wonder of You (A Different Kind of Wonderland Book 1) Page 6
