by Peyton Banks
The server approaches, carrying trays filled with all our favorites. Each week, we order separate items but request four extra plates to share from every dish. Ariel digs in, passing the plates around the table while we continue to talk. The topic has since shifted from my work, to the latest news on Lee’s dating life. Of the four of us, Lee and I are the single ones, except Lee enjoys exploring the dating scene, while I…well, I use my vibrator.
“Are you going to see him again?” I ask, taking a bite of eggs.
“I think so. I mean, he was a little too touchy-feely for me, but other than that he was a total gentleman. And you know how hard it is to find those.”
We laugh at the honesty in her statement. My ex was not a gentleman in any form, but he wasn’t a bad guy either—chivalry just wasn’t his strong suit. Ariel’s husband and Chante’s fiancé are really great guys, and before them, they, too, suffered their fair share of tactless men.
“What about you, Jess? Been on any dates?” Chante taps me from under the table.
My mind instantly trails to my calls with—shit, I don’t even know his name. “No, I haven’t had the time.”
“Ugh,” they say in unison.
“You need to make time, bitch,” Chante demands in an agitated tone. “You can’t keep spending all your time working on these projects. You came to Arlington—”
“To work! That’s what I’m doing,” I answer defensively.
“You came to live your life. To start over. Work is only a piece of the puzzle. You know what, we’re going out tonight.”
“Come on, Tay—”
“Don’t ‘come on, Tay’ me. We’re going out! You need to have some fun.”
“Yes, let’s! I need to shake my ass.” Lee dances in her seat.
“Well, let me call Larry and let him know,” Ariel adds, cosigning Chante’s foolery.
There’s no sense in fighting with them, because I’ll never win. Once Chante’s made up her mind, it’s solid, nothing will change it. And unless I want the bitch bugging me all day and night and maybe through to next week, it’s best I suck it up and get excited. My phone rings, vibrating against my foot on the floor. The girls are so busy chatting, I take the moment to see who it is. I recognize the number from yesterday and cross my legs to still the pulsing his call sends to my pussy. Declining it, I work to hide my smile and place the phone face-down on the table.
“Jess, you should wear the little red number you got a couple of weeks ago. The short one,” Lee says when I return my attention to my friends.
I nod and take another forkful of my food. My phone chimes to life again, rattling the table and clinking against my plate. Flipping it over, I see it’s him again and quickly hit ignore. But only a second later it goes off once more, this time alerting me of a text. I lean forward onto my forearms, using my left hand to tap open his message while trying to keep one ear on the conversation.
What are you doing? his message reads.
I smile and thumb my response: Having brunch with my girls. How can I help you?
Brunch sounds nice! What are you having?
His reply is tasteful, polite, but I must admit a little disappointing. A part of me was expecting some kinky shit to pop up on my screen. The thought of reading all the freaky things he wants me to do to myself whilst my friends sit clueless next to me is exciting. But he presents me with decency. What the fuck? What’s gotten into me?
Instead of responding, I lift my phone and snap a picture of our half-eaten food. Pressing send, I sit it down and toss a piece of bacon in my mouth.
“How are you going to take a photo of the food after we’ve eaten it?” Lee asks in between chews.
“So, where are we going tonight?” I ask, avoiding her question. My text alert chimes, stealing my focus, causing me to miss the location announcement.
A woman who loves to eat. I love it! It all looks delicious.
It is! Would you like some? I reply.
I’ll happily take whatever you’re offering me, sweets.
Be careful what you wish for, I joke.
I’m not worried!
Maybe you should be.
Why is that?
Not expecting him to respond so quickly, I stare at the messages blankly. I have no witty comeback for him, and the evidence of that must show on my face. Chante taps my foot, and I look at her.
“What are you concentrating so hard on over there?” She nods to my hands.
“Uh…nothing. Was replying to my boss,” I lie and sit my phone face-down, deciding to leave the conversation where it is for now. Maybe I’ll come up with something flirty to say.
“I’ma take your damn phone,” Lee barks. “It’s girls’ time, no work. Now come on so we can make this pedicure appointment. I’m sure you’ve been neglecting them dogs with all this work you’re doing.”
Wiggling my toes through my flats, I try to hold in my laugh. I swear, I love my friends, but it irks my nerves when they’re right. My feet are begging to be pampered, and it’s not even funny.
Music blares as we squirm through the ocean of people. After our pedicures, I’d hoped Chante would’ve changed her mind about going out tonight, but luck wasn’t on my side. For the last ten minutes, the girls and I struggled to push our way into the club in search of a spot that’s a little less crowded. We find one near the corner of the bar. The floor is sticky under my shoes, and the scent of booze and bad cologne fills the air.
“What can I get you, ladies?” the bartender questions.
“A round of shots, please. Also, two cranberry and vodkas, one Hennessy, and a pineapple and vodka”. Knowing exactly what my friends like, I place the order and direct my attention to the girls.
Chante is already dancing, and Lee is warming up. Ariel stays close to me while I wait for the drinks. Like me, she isn’t much into the scene—crowds of people rubbing against each other in an attempt at some fun and maybe the occasional hookup. Liquid courage is definitely needed if we’re to be living it up and enjoying the night. The bartender places eight glasses in front of me, and I thank him by handing him my credit card to open a tab. Ariel takes the four tiny glasses into both hands, passing us each one for ourselves. As she does this, I pick up the small plate of limes, holding it out for them to snag a slice.
“Ready?” Lee asks when I set the dish back on the counter.
“Yup,” I add, clutching my purse under my arm.
On the count of three, we lick the salted rim, toss the glasses back, swallowing the contents in one swoop before sucking on the lime wedges. My throat tingles from the concoction, and I wince, letting out a loud breath. In unison, we each grab the taller glasses in a rush to wash away the aftertaste of the tequila.
It isn’t long before I’m feeling the effects of both drinks and begin to loosen up. Allowing the music to take over, I sway to the lyrics of Cardi B, singing along with my girls. One thing to know about me, I’m as conservative as they come, but Cardi is my spirit animal, person, or whatever you want to call it. Her words ignite things in me, which isn’t necessarily a good thing for a tipsy Jessica. A few guys approach us from the other side of the bar, squeezing their way between our circle.
“Hey, I’m Chris!” a tall, broody-looking fellow with deep-brown eyes says to me.
I accept his hand shake and introduce myself. “I’m Jessica,” I add, speaking in his ear.
“Nice to meet you! Can I get you another drink?” he yells over the music.
“Yeah. Two cran and vodkas, one Hennessy, and one pineapple and vodka,” I say, instantly realizing from the look on his face that he wasn’t offering to buy four drinks. That damn Cardi B, I think to myself. I’m about to rescind my order, but he leans for the bar.
“Five Hennessey’s, two cran- vodkas, and a pineapple vodka. Tab’s under West,” Chris says to the bartender.
Well, shit, thank you, Cardi, I say internally and turn away slightly with my brows raised. “Thank you!”
“No problem!” He finis
hes the last of his drink and places both my empty glass and his on the bar top. “Which ones yours?” He points to the freshly made cocktails.
“Pineapple.”
Chris hands me a glass, then grabs the attention of his friends who take turns passing out the remainder of the drinks. The music switches to Drake, and the volume rises as we all sing the words and dance in place. Chris wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me close. After a few more songs, I pause to catch my breath. Not once does my new friend skip a beat, he’s right there next to me smiling—hard.
I ignore his glances and take a peek at my friends. Catching Lee’s eyes, I tilt my glass, silently asking if they’d like another round. She checks with Ariel and Chante before nodding yes. Switching my purse from one hand to the other, I call our mixologist over. Before I can tell him what I’d like, Chris steps in, ordering another round for me and my friends. I protest, but he insists on doing so. One drink is fine, but I’ve always had this weird inkling that if a guy buys you more than one drink, he definitely expects to get laid at the end of the night. Lee’s voice plays in my head: If a man wants to buy your drinks, you fucking let him, and if you want to fuck him at the end of the night, do that, too. There won’t be any of the latter happening, but I guess the drinks will be okay.
As I nurse the next round, I force myself to engage in conversation. It’s not that this guy is boring, but my mind is just not here. The point of tonight was to let loose, and I did, but now drunk, all I can think about is my mystery caller. I realize I never responded to his message earlier and wonder what he’s thinking. Chris taps me on the shoulder, pulling me from my thoughts, asking me to dance. I decline and suggest he goes and has fun with Lee, because seriously, the girl has yet to slow down. Removing my phone from my purse, I open my texts and scroll to the unsaved number.
What are you wearing? I type, smiling at the nerve of myself. Almost instantly, my phone buzzes and his reply pops across the screen.
I feel like the right answer would be, nothing. But, unfortunately, I’m fully dressed.
Shame! I was finally going to tell you why you should be worried. I bite down on my lip to hold back the giddy feeling I have inside.
Oh really? Why is that?
I can’t tell you now. You needed to be naked for that.
Okay, so I don’t really have a reason for why he should be worried or be careful of what he wished for. This just seems like the thing to say. Before I can second guess myself, I hit send and shove my device back into my purse. In a few seconds, my bag vibrates under my arms, but I will myself to ignore it. A part of me likes how quickly he responds, and while I am eager to know what the message says, I think I’ll wait it out. Besides, there’s a hell of a chance he’s sent me something dirty, and I’ll need to be in the confines of my home to fully explore that possibility.
4
Jessica
I stumble inside my apartment. Still tipsy from the liquor, I opt to slide to the floor, using my back to slowly close the door. The walk from my Uber to my home proved to be a feat, and all I want to do is get these evil strappy open-toe heels off. I unhook the sides, kick them off and crawling the rest of the way through my foyer. The only light comes shining in from the large window that I’ve yet to apply curtains to. Looking up at it now, I wonder why I’ve never done that. I’m sure it all makes sense to a sober me, but right now, all I hear are my mother’s words about serial killers and stalkers.
My purse buzzes on the floor, and I back track to retrieve it. With my back against the wall, I pull my iPhone from inside and let the bag fall back to where it previously sat. I fumble around for a bit, trying to get a good grip before answering.
“Hey, babe… Making sure you made it home,” Ariel’s voice calls out at me.
“I did. Just crawled in.”
“What?”
“Don’t ask. How many drinks did we have? I’ve never been this drunk. I think I may have hit on my Uber driver,” I say as I lay down on my side.
“I stopped at three, but that guy you were chatting it up with brought you at least four, plus the one we had before they showed up.”
“Damn! Don’t let me do that again. I’m sure I’ll feel it in the morning.”
“Yup! But you needed it, though. You work too hard. Get some rest, I’ll check on you tomorrow.”
We say our goodbyes and end the call. I know I should get up and head into my room, but this floor feels like where I’m meant to be for the night. Not one to fight against fate, I close my eyes for a moment to collect myself.
A loud rattle snaps me from my daze, a bright light blinding me as my phone dances on my hardwood tiles. The time reads four-fifteen in the morning, and I realize I’ve been asleep for at least twenty minutes. Refusing to move, I accept the call and place the receiver to my ear while the other is pressed into the cold surface.
“Hello,” I say, groggily.
“Are you asleep, sweets?”
His voice flows through the speakers, instantly snapping me out of my sleep-filled haze. I grip the phone and sit up. His tone is low, sensual even, and if memory serves, this is his bedroom voice. I’m way too drunk to consider phone sex right now, but I’m not certain I want to tell him that. We’ve only spoken a couple of times, and neither of those instances held any real substance. Actually, the most normal conversation we’ve had was our texts from earlier.
“I was,” I finally answer.
“Should I call another time?”
“No! You’re fine. I need to get up off this floor anyway,” I add while grunting and lifting myself to my feet.
“Floor? Do I even want to know?” There’s a slight chuckle in his voice.
“Are you teasing me, sir?” I twist my back, stretching out my cramped muscles.
“Kade!”
Picking my clutch and heels up from in front of the door, I head toward my bedroom. “Excuse me?” I flop down on the mattress.
“That’s my name. Figured after our last few conversations, you’d at least want to know it.”
“It’s nice…different.”
“Thank you!”
“No problem. So, did you have a specific reason for calling me at this hour?” I flirt, laying back and resting my head on a pillow.
“Just curiosity.”
“For what?”
“I wanted to hear what your normal voice sounds like. As for the hour, well, it was around this time when I first called, so I took a gamble.”
“Are you a gambling man, Kade?” I smile and I swear he does, too.
“Only when something—someone—is of interest to me.”
“Um. Good to know.” The line is silent for several seconds. I’m not sure what to say next, and I get the feeling neither does he. The only sound emanating from the other end is his breath, which is almost in sync with my own.
“What are you thinking, sweets?”
“Who’s Candace?” I blurt with more force than intended.
“Right to it, huh? Candace is a young woman I would see during my occasional visits to Virginia.”
“Your occasional girlfriend?” I pry, not sure I appreciate his response. It shouldn’t really matter to me who this woman is to him. I only learned his name a second ago, but deep down I need to know, because even though I enjoy all the sensual things he says to me, there’s this probing sense of guilt.
“No. Not a girlfriend. I actually haven’t had one of those in a very long time. Candace and I dated for a brief stint a few years ago, but things never became serious.”
“What stopped it from doing so?” I ask, sinking myself deeper into my pillow and propping one foot on my knee.
He takes a deep breath. “Distance for one—while I do come to that area a few times a year for work, I travel for the rest of it. Another reason is a relationship wasn’t a thing either of us thought about. I’m picky with the company I keep, and while things were fun, Candace and I just didn’t fit the serious mode.”
“You said were and
didn’t, but you were calling her a few days ago.” I squeeze my eyes shut, unable to keep from feeling regret in my line of questioning. This man doesn’t owe any explanations about his love life.
“You’re attentive and analytical. Let me guess. You work in either finance or programming of sorts?”
“Programming of sorts.” I smile, but it isn’t lost on me that he dodged answering my question. Not that it matters at all, but red flag.
“Maybe you can tell me all about it one day. But to address your concerns, I finally reached Candace—”
Okay, so he wasn’t dodging. “What happened, did she used to have this number?” I interrupt.
“No, her number is still the same, I just misdialed. Don’t ask why I didn’t scroll through my contacts and press her name.”
He chuckles, and I’m surprised to find that I like it.
“But I called the correct number later after my um…discussion with you that day in your office. Turns out, she’s met someone.”
“Oh. Well, okay…sorry?” I add, unsure of how to respond or if he’s affected by the whole thing. “Is this new? The thing with the guy?”
“I didn’t ask the details. It’s not my place. I made things very clear about my expectations, so she is well within her rights.”
“I get that, but you did have some sort of something. I mean, I don’t know you, but you don’t strike me as the type to call for phone sex without knowing if she’s expecting it.”
He laughs. “But isn’t that sort of what happened with you?”
I don’t try to hold back my laugh. He’s right. “Yes! But in your defense, you thought you were calling Candace.”
“Well, then, Jessica. What’s your excuse? You didn’t exactly protest my calls.”
“Ahhh.” I clasp my hand around my face, letting out a low grunt, embarrassed at myself. “I knew you were going to ask.” I laugh, and so does he. Damn, even his laugh is sexy.
“Well, share!” he encourages.
“I…was…masturbating when you interrupted.”
