Nothing More Beautiful (16 page)

And that feeling—that delicious, thrilling
feeling that had been growing at the base of my skull and vanished
the moment Vince had pulled out—I wanted that back. Maybe it could
happen, maybe he could still break the curse, and after all, it had
only been our first time. I mean, how many things in life were
successful on the first go, right?

I found a notepad on his nightstand and
wrote him a quick note, telling him to call me. Gazing at his soft
curls, I wanted to run my fingers through his hair, and kiss him
goodbye. Instead, I left like a mouse, silent and sneaky.

Since I didn’t have Eddie, Vince, the
generous man that he was, had agreed the night before to let me
borrow one of his cars. After some searching, I found the garage
that the key opened, and my jaw dropped when I spotted a prototype
car that resembled a Fiat with “EverGO” sprawled across the back.
The inside was a dream. The seats were more comfortable than a
recliner. I powered it on and was welcomed by a soft, seductive
female voice. I backed out and was amazed by its handling, having
grown so accustomed to Eddie’s poor maneuvering powers.

The roads at 4:40 a.m. were dead, though
there was more traffic downtown than down in the Sellwood or
Hawthorne areas. The heated seats were a real bonus for the early
morning, and Danielle’s warm coat failed to deter the cold. My butt
had never been so happy to be driving to work.

Walking into the bakery, I was greeted by
blaring Dropkick Murphys, a favorite of the Bread Guy. I unlocked
the office and pulled out the spare clothes I had tucked away in a
filing cabinet for an occasion such as this. Changed, I went to the
kitchen, nodded at the Bread Guy, started the coffee, and began my
daily routine with a grin on my face.

“YOU HAD SEX WITH
him?”
Danielle shouted, barging into my office around noon, her lunch
hour. I had texted her earlier about the events of the night.

I jumped out of my seat. “Whoa, ever heard
of knocking?”

“I want to hear everything! Everything,
Maci!”

I returned to my chair. “All right, God,
relax there.”

“I’m just stunned,” she said, rolling up
Bridgett’s chair next to mine. “Did you—did it happen?”

“No,” I answered flatly.

She scrunched her face in disbelief.
“No?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Lay it on me, kid,” she begged. I went on
to tell her about the night. “What about foreplay?” she asked after
I’d finished.

“Just kissing, mostly,” I answered.

“Just kissing? You mean down there?” She
moved her index finger back and forth, pointing at her v-spot.

“No, on the mouth.”

She shook her head, and then leaned forward.
“But you think you felt something different with him?”

“Oh yeah, never felt that building feeling
before.” I tapped where my neck met my head. “Right here. Is
that—”

“Probably,” she said before I finished.
“There’s more than one place to feel an orgasm, and more than one
way, too. My biggest happen in my forehead with a rush of blood
that sometimes gives me a headache. Ashley says her best ones come
from her clit and reach up her back and neck and out to her fingers
and toes. You have to remember that they’re not often the same,
either, and they vary in so many ways, even duration. Mine are
mostly short but successive while Ashley’s last longer—minutes
even—but it takes way longer to get there.”

I couldn’t believe we were talking about
this. We had never had this kind of conversation before—not once.
Not this intimate. Danielle was opening up in a way that made me
wish I could reciprocate, but I wasn’t sure I could. My
reservations were broken when she asked, “What did you do
afterward?”

“We cuddled, talking for quite a while, more
back-and-forth Q&As. Then he just held me for a long time until
I fell asleep. It was the most intimate I’ve ever been with anyone,
Danielle. I couldn’t believe how right it all felt.”

“Are you supposed to see him again?” she
asked, folding her arms and leaning back.

I shrugged. “I have one of his cars and
wrote him a note to call me.”

“You wrote him a note? What is this, the
’80s?”

“No good?”

“No good. I’ll tell you what you should do,
you should send him a selfie, spice it up a little. Show him that
you were into it.”

“A selfie?”

“Yeah, get some lingerie and text him a few
pictures, then tonight surprise him by wearing it. It would be hot,
trust me.” Her eyes showed her enthusiasm for the idea.

“Lingerie? I’m not really a lingerie type of
girl,” I said, looking at the marble on my desk.

“You said you didn’t do stuff with Ryan and
that’s the reason why he went elsewhere. You said you wanted to
break out of the mold, broaden your horizons. Trying this is an
easy first step.” She paused for a second, smirking. “Tell me: what
position did you do it in last night?”

I reddened.

“Oh, Maci, stop being such a goddamn prude.
What position?”

“Normal.”

“Normal?” she pressed.

“God!” I yelled, standing up. “Missionary,
okay? We did it in missionary—boring old missionary. I know, you
don’t have to say it. I need to expand my horizons or whatever.
That’s just the way we ended up doing it.”

“I wasn’t going to criticize, I just wanted
to know,” she said, her voice small. “I thought we were
sharing.”

“We
are
sharing,” I said. “I didn’t
mean to snap like that. I’m
just . . . frustrated. I mean, I meet a great
guy like Vince and I still . . . ugh!” I paced
the room.

“Try my idea. I think it will get you
started.” She looked at her elegant white gold watch. “Look, I’ve
got to get back to work. You still need a ride home, right?”

“Yeah,” I replied, as she walked to the
door.

“Okay, I’ll be back around five.” She cocked
her head, playful. “And Maci, give my idea a shot. You’ve got
nothing to lose.”

“I’ll think about it,” I said. After she was
gone, I went back to the marble on my desk and rolled it around a
few times. An easy step. I could do that.
I’m not a prude
, I
repeated to myself, going back to work at the front counter. A few
minutes passed when a welcomed sight appeared.

Vince sauntered up to the display case,
Terrance at his side, and the two started discussing the menu. My
feet skipped as my heart celebrated his presence. Vince scanned the
room and our eyes met, his instantly brightening. He walked over to
the side of the counter, forgetting his bodyguard. “I can’t believe
you get up so early.”

“Neither can my body,” I said, laughing.
“It’s very resentful of my job.”

“My body did too, until I bought that
mattress.” He fidgeted while he stood, more nervous than before.
Maybe he was concerned about his performance last night. “How did
you sleep?”

“Great. It was by far the best bed I’ve ever
been on.”

That gave him pause for a second. “I’m glad.
Maybe I’ll have one sent to your apartment.” His nervous laughter
made it hard to tell if he was joking. I played it like he was.
“Listen, I had a great time last night. It
was . . . amazing.” He scratched his neck,
unable to stop shifting. “I stopped by to see if you wanted to get
together again, maybe tomorrow night?”

“Um—” I said, pretending to think of my
schedule.

“Oh, or some other time,” he added quickly,
misinterpreting my “um.”

“No, tomorrow night works. Oh, before I
forget!” I reached into my khaki pockets and retrieved his keys and
starter, holding them over the counter.

He took them and, as the keys were
exchanged, our hands kissed and a current shot through me. “What
did you think of the ride?” he asked.

“It was incredible.” I held his hand for a
moment, teasing his skin, and he returned the gesture. “I’d never
experienced a ride like it.” I hoped he caught the innuendo.

“It’s the prototype we tested our battery
module in,” he said, missing my suggestive subtlety. I guess it was
too subtle. “Thanks.” He held up the keys, and then handed them to
Terrance. “Would you like anything?” he asked him.

His bodyguard’s lips formed a severe line.
It hurt just to look at his clenched muscles. “I’ll have a
sixteen-ounce cinnamon mocha,” Terrance ordered, his voice
husky.

“Cinnamon mocha, got it.” I turned to Vince.
“Anything for you? A croissant, right?”

He smiled. “A croissant, and what’s that
yerba mate tea?”

I soured my face. “Oh, it’s this nasty tea
from South America that Danielle loves, so I have it on there for
her. It’s pronounced mah-tey: there’s a little accent over the “e.”
Anyway, we actually get a lot of people in here who drink it, but I
wouldn’t recommend it. I make a good pumpkin caramel latte, if you
want to try something different. It’s one of my favorites.”

He smiled a seductive smile, though I don’t
think it was meant that way. “Sure, sounds great.”

“All right, I’ll have those out to you in a
second.” I went to work concocting the drinks. I slid them across
the counter when they were ready, and handed Vince a croissant. I
noticed him taking out his wallet and said, “No charge. It’s on the
house.”

“Are you sure? I’d rather support a local
business.”

I laughed, but saw that he was sincere about
it. “No, it’s cool.”

“Okay, thanks.” He raised the cup. “So, I’ll
call you tomorrow?”

“Looking forward to it.”
Looking forward
to it? Really? That’s all I could come up with?
I smiled to
compensate for my reply. “The car is around back,” I added as he
waved goodbye.

He nodded before the two disappeared out the
door.

I fulfilled a dozen more orders, going over
the exchange with Vince, when I found a one-hundred-dollar bill in
the tip jar. Was it from Vince? Of course it was; no one else left
one-hundred bucks for a tip. What did it mean? Was he trying to buy
me over?

I overanalyzed its meaning, like I did
everything else in my life.

When Danielle swung by to pick me up, it was
5:30. I told her about the visit and the money. “That’s perfect!”
she shouted. “Use the hundred to buy the lingerie.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “It feels dirty.” I
threw up my hand before she contradicted what I meant. “And not
dirty in a good way.”

“He’s wealthy, Maci. If you continue to see
him, you’ll have to get used to him lavishing you with gifts.” She
put the car in drive and headed home.

“You make it sound so petty that I don’t
want to take his money.” I played with the Benjamin as she drove.
“I prefer to earn my money.”

“Yeah, you’re stubborn like that,” she said,
cross. “If Ashley and I were like that, neither of us would ever
get anything.”

“I think it’s a
little
different when
the other person is about a million tiers above your income
bracket.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Give it to Bridgett then,
or one of your employees as a bonus.” She glared at me for an
instant, disapproval written on her face. “If you didn’t want it,
why’d you take it?”

“I don’t know.” Because I liked the thought
that it was in Vince’s hand, and if I imagined hard enough, it
smelled like him, a sweet tropical deodorant. “Will you come with
me to pick it out?”

“The lingerie?”

“Yeah.”

“Where do you want to go? My favorite place
is Spartacus downtown.” Her voice lightened, and I could hear her
excitement in sharing this part of my life with her for the first
time. It had always felt so personal talking about specifics, but
also so closed off, isolating. She had fed me way more information
than I had about our sex lives, and I don’t think she ever
understood why—writing it off as a product of my prudish
sensibilities. In any case, she was more than ready to join me on
this journey. “Or how about Lovers?” she added, as I considered the
options.

“I was thinking something more like
Victoria’s Secret or Fredericks.”

“To Lloyd Center then?”

I nodded. “You really think this will heat
up the sex?”

She turned up 12
^th
Avenue. “Like
I said, trust me on this. I may not know guys well, but I know what
they want, because really, our tastes don’t differ much.” She gave
me a pretend concupiscent smile. We parked in front of Marshalls,
and then roamed around the mall, stopping at a few different
stores, until we stumbled on Victoria’s Secret.

Danielle picked up a shopping bag. “Plan on
trying a lot on?” I asked.

“I need a new bra,” she said, circling a
display of panties. “A few of mine have started to poke me. I also
need new underwear: some thongs, really. But first, let’s get you
some seductive lingerie—something irresistible.”

We browsed the walls and racks of lingerie.
“I like this one.” I held up a silky purple nightie.

She smirked. “Sweetie, that’s sleepwear, not
sexwear. You need something like this.” She grabbed a black lacy
top with red bows. Seeing my frown, she replaced it on the rack.
“Or this.” She held up a red corset with segmented frills spanning
the center from where the cups connected to the garment’s bottom. A
row of fake buttons ran down the middle of the frills with a big
red bow centered at the waist that halved the frill segments.

“Now
that
I like,” I said, taking the
lingerie from her and holding it up to my figure. “What do you
think?”

“Perfect,” she purred. “Go try it on. If it
fits, take some pictures.”

I inspected the tag. “This one is a 34C. Is
there a B?”

She scanned through the rack and pulled out
a duplicate. “34B.”

We traded and I headed for the fitting room
before I realized I’d need matching bottoms. I found a pair of
satin panties that looked like they completed the set. As I started
off again, Danielle stopped me. “Don’t forget these.” She handed me
a matching pair of lace thigh-highs that would attach to the
garters.