Nothing More Beautiful (22 page)

During the week, I had also read a lot of
the
Guide to Getting It On!
and was surprised by how much I
didn’t know about my own body. It shed light on a thousand little
mysteries. The first chapter I pored over was the orgasms chapter.
It turned out that seeing colors wasn’t some ill sign, which
relieved my growing anxiety after Danielle brought it up. Evidently
people experienced orgasms in hundreds of different ways, where
before I had always assumed they were the same across the board,
though I couldn’t say I gave it much thought beyond,
I wonder
what it feels like?
The second chapter I ventured into was on
female anatomy, then male anatomy. Sure, they taught that stuff in
sex ed., but not in the same way, lacking the thoroughness,
open-mindedness, and general enthusiasm for all things related to
sex. It was refreshing, comforting, and most of all,
informative.

Saturday couldn’t arrive quickly enough.
When it did, I waited and waited all morning, planning my evening
attire, fretting over what Danielle would describe as trivial
things, such as shoe colors. Trivial to her because she could color
coordinate in a flash, where it could take me hours on my normal
days—on my worst days, I didn’t even bother going out, and bagged
whatever plans I had.

Danielle had spent the night at Ashley’s and
never came home, so I couldn’t fall back on her judgment, and ended
up with a summery V-neck dress despite the cold, with leggings and
a cardigan for warmth. Arriving an hour early, I was shocked to
discover that I wasn’t the first one there, as I heard a woman
laughing inside his place.

Vince opened the door, dressed to match the
more formal occasion: he wore his favored blue blazer, but wore a
white dress shirt underneath with an ice blue bowtie. His soft
curls fell perfectly and were as touchable as ever. He kissed me,
took my coat, then pointed at his bowtie. “Bowties are cool,” he
said, as if it were a line from something.

Uncertain, I shrugged.

“
Doctor Who
?” He looked at me
expectantly. “No? That’s all right. Come on, there’s someone I’d
like you to meet.”

He led me to the kitchen in a hurry, where
his business partner was sitting at the semi-circle breakfast bar
on the far end. I couldn’t believe how beautiful she was—far more
attractive than my first judgment from a distance. Close up, I
could see how flawless her smooth brown skin was, her comparable
bust that peeked at the world under an elegant silver dress, and
how full and luscious her black hair shined. Vince had said they
dated for a while, but he never mentioned why they broke up, though
I did remember him making it clear that they never had sex.
Why?
I wondered, staring at her.
Maybe she prefers women
to men. If that’s the case, Danielle and Ashley will be able to
tell
. I didn’t know how long I stood there in silence, before I
noticed her hand in front of my body.

I accepted her grip. “Hi, I’m Maci.”

She squeezed my fingers so hard, it felt
like my knuckles would break. “Alma Silva Perez. I’m sure Vince has
mentioned me.” Her stern voice surprised me and her eyes burned my
retinas. She exuded arrogance and intelligence, and scared the hell
out of me.

I returned her serious grip. My parents had
always taught me that eye contact showed true confidence, so I
turned on my lasers, and it seemed as though we were battling like
Harry Potter and Voldemort,
Priori Incantatem
style. Finally
Vince broke it up with his warm voice. “Would you like something to
drink, Maci?”

Forced to turn away, I surrendered, looking
at Vince. “A porter would be nice.”

“I put one on tap for you in the game room,”
he said, “or I have a selection of bottled.”

“Tap is almost always better.”

“Tap it is then.” He put down a spatula and
headed for the game room, where he had a billiard table, foosball,
an old
Street Fighter
cabinet—that he was totally proud of
and elaborated on for some time—and of course, his largest TV for
the multiple consoles, complete with custom surround sound. All of
which I knew little to nothing about before he gave me a lesson on
the various devices and games that he played.

I made a gesture to stop him. “I can get
it.”

“Nonsense. It’s a quality of a good host to
make sure his guests don’t lack for refreshment,” he insisted. He
vanished before I could argue.

“I hope you’re not taking his pubescent
sincerity for granted,” Alma said, her voice ice and daggers.

I gaped at her, baffled.
What the hell
does that mean?
“I’m not sure what you want me to say to
that.”

“You don’t have to say anything. You can
just listen,” she snarled. “When I look at you, I see a seductive
little woman charming her way into the pants of a very, very rich
man—a man who possesses a juvenile naiveté and can’t see the train
wreck ahead. But I can, Maci. I can. And if you fuck with him, just
remember that I’ll be right around the corner to cut out your
little cunt before you can fucking blink. Do you understand me, or
should I elucidate the situation in a plainer, less sophisticated
manner, better suited for your public education?” She clenched her
glass like a baseball, primed to chuck it at my head.

Before I could respond to her insane threat,
Vince returned with a nonic pint glass, brimming with a black
porter that showcased a huge tan head. I accepted the beverage, and
despite the situation and my shaken nerves, I remained composed, my
hands steady.

“So what were you two talking about?” Vince
asked, appraising Alma’s countenance.

“Oh, nothing really,” she said, her face
lightening, her shoulders relaxing. “I was just telling Maci about
our super-secret project, the metal-free mega battery.” She smiled
at me with a glint of malice that Vince didn’t seem to catch.

“I thought we were supposed to have people
sign NDAs for that?” Vince asked, but his tone implied he was
jesting.

“Only the ones you’re not fucking.” She
forced out a laugh.

“Jesus, Alma!” Vince threw up a hand. “Show
some courtesy, will ya? Disregard her, Maci. She’s a little
high-strung right now. We’re supposed to demonstrate the storage
capacity of a battery next week for PGE, and things aren’t going as
well as we had hoped, especially with last Saturday’s setback.”

I met her glare. “I know how stress goes. It
makes you say crazy things sometimes.”

“You don’t know stress until you’ve
performed a test in front of the Secretary of Energy,” she
scoffed.

“Goddamn, do I have to send you to a corner
to chill out?” Vince narrowed his eyes at her.

She snorted. “I think I’ll go play
Call
of Duty
upstairs.” She said nothing more and retreated into the
hall, heading for the game room.

“Whoa! What crawled up her ass?” I asked,
bewildered by what had just transpired.

“Like I said, I think the pressure to get
our project ready before the test is getting to her.”

I set the glass on the luxurious countertop
of the massive island that made up the other half of the breakfast
bar. “That seems like a little more than just stress.”

He walked around the island to the sink and
rinsed his hands. “What do you mean?”

“Well, for starters, when you left, she
threatened me.”

He turned to face me. “Threatened you
how?”

“She said that if I fucked with you, she’d
cut out my”—I cleared my throat—“cunt.” I gulped down the porter to
wet my drying mouth. The coffee overtones were dark and roasted to
perfection.

He rested his palms on the counter and
leaned back. “What? You’re joking—that doesn’t sound at all like
Alma.”

“Maybe not, but it happened,” I
asserted.

“Well, I guess I’ll have a talk with her.
For now, we should let her calm down.” He shook his head, staring
at the floor cabinets in front of him. “Do you like risotto?” he
asked, changing the subject.

“Like it? I love it.”

“How about with Italian sausage and a hell
of a lot of cheese?” He wiggled his eyebrows to emphasize his
inclination. He turned around and stirred the two heavy saucepans.
Inside each a broth bubbled.

“Hard to go wrong with both,” I said. “Did
you or Alma make it?”

“I did,” he nodded. “I also have something
else to show you.” He strode around the island, grabbed my hand,
and sped for the master bedroom. Opening the door to a long walk-in
closet behind the master bath, he released my hand and picked up a
red pillow shaped kind of like a doorstopper.

He offered it to me, so I took it with
tentative hands, fumbling with the covered foam. “What is it?”

“It’s a sex pillow,” he said, his eyes
lighting up. It was then that I noticed his growing erection. He
regarded me and must have recognized my disgust. “It’s not used or
anything,” he added. “It just arrived yesterday.”

I sighed, relaxing. “Oh.”

“I read that specific sex furniture can add
a lot of value to the act, giving different penetration angles, and
stimulating different nerves. I thought we’d start with one of the
smaller ones to see what it’s like . . . What
do you think?”

I pressed my hands into it. “Feels sturdy.”
His eyes were telling me he wanted more than an evaluation of the
physical product. “I think it’s a great idea,” I said, though I
didn’t actually know where I stood on its application. Sex
furniture had never crossed my mind before. I handed it back to
him.

“I also made a copy of the list in my
notepad.” He extracted the leather-bound notepad from an inner
pocket of his jacket. “I was thinking we might cross one off
tonight, after everyone leaves.”

I smiled at him and rubbed his hard-on. He
let out a moan. “I’ve been waiting all week,” I said into his ear.
I didn’t know what took over me, but suddenly I found myself on my
knees, unzipping his pants.

Vince gave zero protests as I unleashed his
erection. I gasped. “You trimmed—and shaved!”

“Surprise,” he said, his low voice silky and
sultry. I felt the smoothness of where he had shaved, most
noticeably his balls and pubic bone. His penis stared at me,
straight and long, blue veins visible along the shaft, a bigger
vein running from the base to the tip, almost centered. The slit of
the head peered at me, begging for my mouth. I had never given head
before, but an overwhelming desire urged me on. Without hesitation,
I leaned forward and stuck out my tongue to probe his soft skin. I
circled underneath the head, the most sensitive spot, and Vince
gasped. A shudder followed as I ran my tongue down to his
balls.

I opened my mouth and nervously swallowed
his hard-on, inching my way to the base.

Then the doorbell-buzzer rang and I gagged,
startled. I pulled back, coughing. It took a moment to collect
myself. Vince’s erection hadn’t wavered in its strength. “I guess
we’ll have to continue this later.”

“It was just the doorbell,” Vince dismissed,
his penis craving my touch.

It rang again. “You have guests coming over.
My friends. We can’t just leave them stuck in the elevator.”

He capitulated to my reasoning, hung his
head, and tucked away his hard-on, struggling to fit it in his
pants. I was going to ask him if he had taken a Viagra because it
was so hard, but it eventually faded, shrinking to its flaccid
state. “Okay, ready.”

We exited the closet, though not before I
tripped over a shoe, almost taking out the rack of shirts. Vince
opened what he called the front door and found Ashley and Danielle
standing there with a bottle of white wine, probably a sweet one if
Ashley (who had a penchant for Rieslings) won the coin toss. All of
my knowledge of wine, which was little enough, came from her.

Ashley stuck her hand out first. “Hi, I’m
Ashley. You must be the reputable and distinguished Vince
Forte.”

“I’m not sure about the first two, but I am
Vince Forte,” he said, showcasing his humorous side. “Ashley,
that’s the same name as my secretary. It’s a good name.”

“I like it well enough,” she said.

Danielle butted in and took his hand.
“Danielle, but we’ve met before.”

“How could I forget,” Vince laughed. “Nice
to see you again. Come in.” He took their coats, and bam—Ashley was
on display in a strapless sweetheart dress. She had definitely
bought a new one for the occasion. Sequined, the black slinky
cocktail dress sparkled under the bright light, and its shortness
showed off Ashley’s long, slender legs, not to mention the
tightness that clung to her wide hips and big butt. I could
practically see Vince’s pants shift as he attempted to hide a
peek.

At first I didn’t know what she was trying
to pull, but then it hit me that she might try and squeeze her way
into a business deal. This had never crossed my mind because I
could never remember what her company did, though financial firm
stuck out in my head just then.

“Is that a new dress, Ashley?” I asked,
thinking that if I drew attention to it early on, it wouldn’t be so
awkward.

“Doesn’t she look gorgeous in it?” Danielle
boasted. “That’s my fiancée for you.”

That changed the subject fast. “You two are
engaged?” Vince asked, surprised.

“Yeah, I told you about that,” I said.

“Hmm. Sorry, I don’t recall the
conversation,” he said, his breathing noticeably louder,
uncomfortable. “Come into the kitchen and we’ll open that bottle of
wine.” He led the way, his eyes forward. I could sense the
resistance to stare at both of them. Although Ashley wore the more
revealing dress, Danielle had the bigger bust, and her deep purple
halter dress provided a good view of her girls, too. I could also
see my friends’ selections as a way for them to have fun with me,
trying to make Vince sweat. It was their kind of humor.

In the kitchen, Danielle handed Vince the
wine, and he uncorked it. He read the name, venturing to do it with
a German accent, but failed by any estimation. “So where are you
getting married? Somewhere in Vancouver, I take it,” he said,
pouring three wine glasses.”