I get exactly what I want,
her moaning loud and commanding more, as I take her hard. Her brows pull tight,
her fingers press into the wall as though she wants to grab a hold of
something. I take her harder, faster, and she pushes her butt back against me,
meeting my thrusts, the slapping sounds of our hot, slick flesh filling the
room.
Our gazes connect through
the mirror. Her moans become more pronounced and I can feel her tightening
around my cock. As she gets closer to orgasm, her eyelids are getting
heavy. “Keep them open. Watch with me.” Now we’re both staring into the
eyes of her reflection.
My hold remaining firm on
her hips, I drive with more determination. She’s on the verge and fighting to
keep focus. “Keep them open, Geraldine,” I command, keeping my voice as steady
as I can – I’m not far off myself; sensations pulling and building in me,
intensifying, taking me closer to the point of no return, and now her body is
squeezing the life out of my dick. “Let go, Geraldine.” She goes over with a
high pitched scream, only just looking into her own eyes, and I’m right behind
her with my own release.
We’re both breathing heavy,
as I ease out of her. Her pale cheeks flushed and irises glazed over, she looks
at me in the mirror with a soft, breathless curve to her lips. “Thank you,
Joe.”
“Su, can you come here a minute, please?” I call out
through my open bedroom door.
“What’s up?” she asks, on
entry.
“Which
one?”
I point to the two outfits laid out on my comforter.
Option one is some black skinny jeans and a white asymmetric shirt; simple and
sexy with a bit of a funky edge. Option two is an indigo spaghetti dress, tight
fitting and it ends mid thigh; not as simple and way
more sexy
.
“The dress,” she says,
heading for the wicker chair at the foot of my bed. “Are you ready for this,
Callie?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want
to go, but it’s too late to get out of it now.” I stare down at my clothes. If
I look as miserable as I feel then I need to pull myself together, and fast, I
only have thirty minutes.
“I don’t know why you agreed
to it, you never wanted to go.”
“I have to try and move on,
and Michelle’s been begging me for this. I’m giving into four weeks of
pressure.”
“Never thought I’d see the
day you go on a blind date.”
I laugh, though, I can’t
quite find the humor to accompany it, but if I don’t laugh I’ll cry. “I just
hope he knows what he’s in for.” I loosen out the bath towel I have wrapped
around me and put on my purple lace boy shorts. One foot propped on the bed, I
start to rub citrus scented lotion on my leg.
“I feel nervous and it’s not
even me. Are you nervous?”
“Not yet, I probably won’t
be. I just wonder if he likes platinum-blondes with pink highlights.”
“Will you kiss
him?”
“
Su
, how could you
even think that? It’s a first date,” I say, with a mock frown. I chuckle at
myself. “I sound like I’m back in high school. If he’s hot then yes, but if
he’s not – no way. There’s nothing wrong with kissing, but I will not fuck him.
I’ll be stoked if he’s cute, I’d like to make out with someone. It’s been
forever.”
“Six weeks is not forever.”
“Easy for you to say, I
heard you and Zack in the shower this morning. I’m totally jealous of you. I
don’t think I like single life.”
“You’ll be snapped up in no
time. Maybe Eddie will be just right for you and you can get some lip action.
Text me first chance you get.”
“Eddie! I do not like that
name.”
Su giggles. “Callie and
Eddie,” she teases. I cringe.
I pull on my dress and check
myself in my full-length mirror.
“Tight and sexy,” Su says,
grinning with approval.
“Too much
for a first date?
A blind-fucking-date?”
She laughs. “No way, it’s perfect
for it. There’ll be the four of you anyway, so that’ll help.”
“I wouldn’t have agreed
otherwise, it was one of my conditions. That, plus he knows what I look like.”
I step into my black stilettos.
“Hair up or down?”
I
ask.
“Lemme do it in that twisted
up style for you.”
I gather my accessories and
comb and sit on the floor by the chair. Su shifts to position herself so that
I’m between her legs. “Do you want your bangs down?” she asks.
“Yes, please. I wonder if
Eddie likes women with brow-skimming bangs.
And funky hair
colors.
And tattoos and piercings – not that he’ll be
seeing those.
Guys who wear suits for a living don’t dig chicks like me.
I never had to think about this when I was with Nick. I must be insane putting
myself through tonight.”
In the art gallery where I
work part-time, my colleague has decided I’d be perfect for her boyfriend’s
friend. This week I gave in and now I’m spending my Friday night on a blind
date foursome. I don’t have a problem with the way I look, but it’s not as if the
guy has picked me, we’re being set up. He probably doesn’t approach women who
look like me when he goes out to fancy bars.
“All done and please stop
worrying,” Su says, and right on cue a car horn beeps from outside. “Who’s the
designated driver?”
“Michelle, but if I hate it
I’ll be getting a cab back within two hours. How’s my makeup?”
“Perfect.” She hugs me
tight.
I grab my jacket and clutch and leave.
I wake up to a too bright room, instantly squeezing my
eyes shut. I didn’t close my curtains, when I got in last night, and now the
unwelcome daylight is shining through. I drag the comforter up over my face and
go for the opening my eyes thing again. I didn’t even get drunk. Maybe it’s the
lack of sleep that’s got me feeling shitty. Or the broken heart – the one I
fully deserve.
A light rap sounds at my
door. “Come in,” I say, peeling back my cover.
Su peeps in. “You’re awake.”
She walks in and sits in her usual spot, in the white and red wicker chair. I
stack my pillows, propping myself up to see her better. “So,” she says, putting
her feet up on the seat and hugging her knees to her chest, “your text said
cute. Tell me more.”
“I was pleasantly surprised
by Eddie. He was everything I expected, but sweet. Blond with nice brown eyes
and athletic, he surfs. He’s the first fair-haired guy I’ve ever dated.”
“Did you make out?”
I nod.
“Good?”
Another
nod.
Su giggles. “You made out
with Eddie.” We both chuckle.
“Yeah, it was nice. He was
nice.”
“Seeing him again?”
“He wants to. I took his cell
phone number and said I’d call.”
“Will you?”
I shrug, unsure. “I’ll think
about it. I need to be certain it’s what I want and I’m not at the moment.”
“Just do what feels right,
okay. What’s on your agenda today?”
“I have to give those photos
to Saffron from last Saturday night. I’m meeting her at BlackArt at one. If you
didn’t have your hair appointment you could’ve come, we could all do lunch. I
can’t wait to see you with a blonde bob, you’re gonna look super hot.”
An eyebrow arches,
approvingly. “Why, thank you. At least I can test the theory about blondes for
myself, right?”
“Well, in my personal
six-week experience, as an almost-blonde, it sucks!”
She wriggles my toes through
the comforter. “That’ll change soon. Let’s have breakfast together. I’ll make
pancakes while you shower.”
After my filling breakfast, I sit at my desk with my
laptop fired up and ready for the transfer of Saffron’s photos to disc. The
first one to pop up on screen is of Joe, which isn’t a surprise to me. Somehow,
whenever I’m around him, and I have my camera, most of the pictures I take
are
of him. Apart from him being the embodiment of absolute
perfection, he is ridiculously photogenic, too. I love to capture him when he’s
deep in conversation with someone, or doing something that distracts him.
Most of the time it’s like
that; Joe snapped unaware.
In this shot he’s talking to
Dane at the bar, Jack in hand, and he’s finger combing his hair back from his
forehead. He does that a lot, it’s a subconscious habit. He’ll push back his
gorgeous ink-black strands and they instantly return to their rightful place,
either side of his face, like open silk drapes. The back isn’t long, but the
front skims his cheekbones.
The next image is an
adorable one of Adam and Saffron. He was saying something in her ear, and she’s
smiling as she listens to him. They’re an inspiring couple, so strong and in
love, still after so many years together. There are some group photos, of the
seven of us, and many of the dancers Saffron hired, ice sculptures and people
in body paint. It was a great night, but it always is when she’s the one
running the show.
Everything is transferred
now, and my embarrassing excess of Joe goes into my secret folder. I would hate
for anyone to discover how many shots I have of him in there. I’ve never
counted them, I can’t bring myself to, but there are a lot, for sure. Seven
years is a long time to know someone, especially when you see them all the
time.
I don’t even need images of
him on the computer, I have his face memorized to exactness and I’m familiar
with every expression he’s capable of. I know his happy face, when he smiles
with both his mouth and his eyes, white teeth gleaming. His angry face, when
he’s so pissed he can barely find the words, though, that’s a rare one. I know
when he’s deep in thought and when he’s stressed, that’s a rare one, too, and I
know when he’s simply content. My favorites are his happy face and his content
face. Oh, and his concentration face – it’s so sexy. He always has that one when
he’s doing a tattoo. I love to watch him ink.
I love to watch him, period!
Shit, I’ll be late if I don’t leave now. Ridding
myself of my robe, I quickly scrape my hair up into a ponytail and put on my
long denim halter dress and tennis shoes. I grab my cream cardigan, my purse,
Saffron’s disc, and I leave.
Saffron meets me at the door of BlackArt. Joe, Adam
and Noah are all with clients. Joe is tattooing some guy’s forearm and he has
his cute concentration face on. He glances over at me, as though he sensed me,
and smiles. I beam and wave back.
We sit at a table outside
the coffee shop next door. It’s reasonable weather with only a slight breeze
playing on the air and hints of blue sky peeping out between the clouds.
There’s enough sun exposure to keep the chill at bay. I shrug out of my
cardigan and start flipping through a magazine someone left behind, while Saff
checks out the photos on her laptop.
“Callie, these are great.
You do it every time,” she says, once she finishes.
“I loved the ice sculptures,
by the way.”
“Thanks, I knew you would.”
“Su said you can’t make
camping on Thursday.”
She tucks her short,
purple-highlighted hair behind her ears. “No, Tracy really needs my help at an
opening, and I owe her. I didn’t mind so much cuz it’s only one night and we’ll
catch up to you guys at the house. Friday will be awesome, Adam’s hired us a
boat for the day.”
“Really?
I was already excited. This is perfect timing for me,
it can’t come soon enough.” I relax back in my chair, delighted with the
additional plans ahead.
“Why’s that?” Saffron asks.
“Ladies,” a familiar voice
booms.
We look over at Gerard,
who’s just about to walk into BlackArt. “Hey,” we both reply.
“We’ll talk later,” I tell Saffron.
She closes her laptop and starts putting it into her bag, and I return my
attention to the abandoned mag. “The Commitment Test: Are You a
Commitment-Phobic?” I say, reading out the article title I’ve just reached.
“I’ll quiz Gerard on this, even though we know the answer already. He’ll score
zero to ten, making him a phobic, for sure.” Saffron chuckles as she sips her
latte.
“Drinks?”
Gerard asks, as he and Joe join us. I nod a yes, but
Saff’s only just started hers. He goes inside the coffee shop, and Joe sits
with us.
On Gerard’s return, I slide
the magazine to him, sitting across from me. “I’ve got a little somethin’ for
you to do.” I take a taste of my iced lemon tea as he scans the pages.
“Bring it on,” he says,
enthusiastically, his grin characteristic of the Cheshire cat, as always. He’d
probably be disappointed if he scored high.
Joe is to my right and I can
smell him, he smells of mild soap and
him
. Over the years I’ve mastered
the fine art of checking out the beautiful man without anyone, including him,
knowing. So while the three of them are occupied with the test, I let my gaze
roam freely.