Private Show (The Private Series) (5 page)

The next thing I know I am in a candlelit room, on a massage table, being smeared with chocolate. I don’t know, they said it helps to detox the body or something, but I would much rather be eating it. Erin tells me about her childhood and her family. She grew up in a normal home, not filthy rich, but enough to be very comfortable. Mom and Dad are still together and Erin is an only child.

“They wanted to have another after they had me, but they never succeeded. I always wondered what it would be like to have a brother or sister.”

I grab her hand. “You know what it’s like to have a sister… now.” She gives me a big smile and I see a little tear creep down her cheek. It’s true, though; well, at least for me. I feel like I have gained not only a friend out of Erin but a really awesome sister. She tells it like it is; hell, if she didn’t push or put me in my place about Ben, I don’t know if we would be together right now. I love her like a full-blooded sister.

We head to get our nails done next. Erin insists that I have to have bubble-gum pink to match my dress for this evening, to coordinate with my Baby Spice costume. Erin decides on a classic French tip, to keep the schoolgirl Britney look fresh. We sit next to one another as the manicurists start to set up and take our hands to begin.

Erin wiggles with excitement. “Ben and all his British hotness is going to spaz when he sees you in your little costume tonight, Tess!”

The girl working on my nails snickers slightly. “I hope so!” I admit.

“Are you serious? He is going to die! That or”—she leans in a little closer to my ear— “come right on the spot!” I gasp, when I feel a sharp poke on my ring finger.

“Oh, I am sorry.” The platinum blonde manicurist says after pushing my cuticle back a little too hard. I try to shrug it off, but there was something in her tone that didn’t sit right.

Erin could sense it too. “Is there a problem?” Erin asks.

The blonde looks at her, shrugs her shoulders and raises an eyebrow. Oh, there is a problem, all right. “You’re talking about Ben Mitchell, right?”

I look over to Erin, who appears to be annoyed. “What’s it to you?” Erin asks.

The overly processed blonde butchering my nails bobs her head side to side on her over fake and baked shoulders. She draws her thin pink lips in and bites down on them.

“Well?” Erin snaps.

The beautician looks up at my face. “You’re seeing Ben Mitchell tonight?”

I don’t want to tell this perfect stranger my personal business, but I am curious to know what she does. “Yes,” I said.

One of her eyebrows shoots up and her mouth gapes open.

“Why so surprised?” Erin says.

“Oh, well… I know Ben.” She gives a little wink, and I feel like I might throw up. “He doesn’t typically make plans in advance with a woman. He is more of the booty call at two a.m. or hook up from Chatz, not a ‘date’ kind of guy.” She continues to apply the pink color to my nails, and thankfully she is nearly done. I need to get out of this room.

Erin, sensing how uncomfortable I am, jumps in. “Well, maybe he was that type of guy a while ago, but now he has found someone worth making plans with and not a one-night fuck.” The girl doing her nails snickers, and I am thinking she doesn’t care for Miss Fake and Bake either. As my beautician finishes my last swipe of color, she stands right up and storms off.

The other manicurist doing Erin’s set takes in a deep breath, controlling her laughter. “Hey, don’t let Angela push your buttons. That girl is a gold digger and a slut. If this Ben guy slept with her once, who gives a crap? From what I just heard he found something worth his while.”

As we pay for our treatments, I look at the clock and see that we have a couple of hours left until Ben picks me up. Erin finds it highly amusing that this Angela was forced to ring us out, and honestly, so do I. My phone rings. It’s Ben. Oh this is going to be bittersweet.

“Hey Ben.” I force my voice a little louder for the bitch to hear.

“Hey, Punky. Everything all right? You sound a little odd.” Ben knows something is up. He always does.

I lick my lips and I nudge Erin’s foot with mine, to get her to pay attention. She smiles mischievously. “Everything is great, babe. Erin and I are just finishing up a little spa day.” I catch Blondie eyeing me.

I hear Ben sigh on the other end, “I hope you feel relaxed then, because there is no way anyone could make you any more beautiful than you already are.”

I don’t know how to respond when he says things like that, so I try to divert the topic. “So, do you have your costume all set? I can’t wait to see it!”

I turn away from the counter and step away, not wanting to share any more of my business. I don’t want to share any part of my guy with anyone… ever. He is mine and only mine, just as I am only his. I cannot imagine being with another man emotionally or sexually. I know Ben has been with lots of women and that worries me constantly, but he assures me that I am enough for him. I think he was filling his life with women in the past, because of what his ex-fiancé pulled on him back in college.

“Hey babe, I gotta go. Erin is waiting for me. I can’t wait to see you later.”

“Oh, neither can I. I am curious to find out about this little surprise you have for me.”

At home, as I get ready, I am cranking some good ol’ Spice Girls. I style my hair into pigtails, ala Baby Spice, and apply some light glittery eye shadow and some simple lip gloss.

After I have it all on I skip to my full length mirror, and I am giddy with excitement. Oh! I almost forgot about my temporary tattoo! I rush to my purse and fish out the small sheet of temporary tattoos, cut out the British flag and slap that bitch on! Observing my good handy work, I think how I will look with a real tattoo… What would I get?

I hear a light rapping at my door.

Right on time. I grab a lollipop as I head for the door.

“Fuck me” are the first words out of his beautiful mouth. I feel confident and sexy. Maybe it’s him or maybe it’s all the Spice Girls and the “girl power.” Either way, I am feeling it.

“You like?” I ask, doing a little spin. I stop facing him and take notice of his odd costume. White dress shirt, slacks and a clear see through raincoat. Then I notice the fake axe and it all comes together and I blurt it out: “American Psycho!”

Ben laughs, and I think he is a little surprised I guessed it right off the bat. How could I not? It’s one of my all-time favorite movies. Yep, definitely not like most girls my age…

Ben eyes my body from top to bottom, bringing his right hand to his mouth and dragging his thumb over his lush bottom lip, his tongue trailing in its path. I feel like panting, that it so hot.

“Baby Spice?” His voice is smooth and deep.

As seductively as I can, I slowly remove the lollipop from my mouth, and poke my tongue out and lick the sweet confection. I hear a groan escape Ben’s throat and then his left hand reaches down to his dress pants and takes hold of himself. I can visually make out the definition of his growing erection in his hand.

“Tess.”

“Ben?”

“What are you doing to me? Look at you. How am I going to be around you all night, around my parents nonetheless, when you look like this?” He gestures with his free hand up and down my body. “I should just take you right here right now, over that red sofa like I wanted to, the first time I set foot in this place.”

Everything inside tenses in a good way, I squeeze my thighs together and I can feel my excitement building. “Not yet.” I tell him. I don’t want to rush this, not tonight. Not while it will be our first time with nothing between us. As I am saying these words he is walking towards me and I didn’t even realize I was backing up, further into my place.

“I want to wait until after the party, Ben.”

“Why?” his voice is husky and raw… sexy.

He is so close, I can feel his breath on my skin, but yet he isn’t touching me. This only makes my decision to wait for later that much more difficult.

“I have my reasons.”

He turns and stalks back to the front door, and I can’t help but watch his tight British ass walk away. “Have it your way, baby.”

“Oh I will, Mr. Bateman.” I stop next to him, grabbing my little pink purse off of the counter and step past him for the door. He smacks my ass making me jump a little. I squeak and then we are out the door.

We make the surprisingly short drive just out of the city, east across the Interstate 90 bridge to Mercer Island, to a neighborhood that resembles a cul-de-sac, but only on a larger scale. I mean, how many cul-de-sacs do you know of that require you to pass through a gated entry? I know Ben’s father is a surgeon, but does an everyday kind of surgeon make
this
kind of money? I look over at Ben, whose face I cannot read. I take his right hand into my left, looks into my eyes and offer a soft smile. It can be hard to read him some days.

He makes a right and pulls into the driveway of a massive house. OK, well, to me it is massive. Mom and I did the apartment thing and once we got bored in a place we would move to another. Did I want a house growing up? Sure, but I also had no control over it and it’s not like we had the money to do it anyways. Mom always made our dwellings homey and comfortable, and each one felt like a home. Like they say, home is where the heart is.

There is a line of expensive cars pulled up to the house and I see men in red jackets, escorting the passengers out and driving them off. But I have to question, where? It’s a residence, not a restaurant. When it is our turn I don’t think about it any longer, because my nerves are skyrocketing. For one I have Ben and that’s enough to set any woman off, but I am meeting his sister Caroline. Ben is so close to her and I want to make a good impression. Yes, I know she is only a teenager, but she is his family. I already know his dad, and obviously his girlfriend Gwen Sawyer, who is also my art teacher. But there are a lot of cars here tonight; I wonder who else if attending.

Ben puts one arm around my waist and carries his axe in the other. It’s kind of funny to be held by a man wearing a blood-splattered rain coat and feel so hot and turned on.

The house is of great size and is decorated from floor to ceiling. I am impressed. Everything is black and white with splashes of deep reds, almost a Victorian theme. Dark sheer fabrics are draped over the windows with red fabric underneath. Candelabras adorn every surface, glittered skulls and “poison” bottles and dishes of food. There are servers in black suits carrying trays of drinks in crystal glasses. We are handed a glass as we walk in and I need it more than ever as soon as I see that at least hundred and fifty people are here in this house.

“Benjamin! Son, happy Halloween!” Jack, Ben’s father greets us. He’s dressed like what I assume to be one of the Beatles, but I can’t be certain.

Ben pulls away momentarily to hug his father, then returns to me. “Dad, you know Tess and Tess, you obviously know my father.”

“Tess, you look adorable, my dear, Let me guess… Spice Girls?” The good doctor knows his British pop sensations.

I nod my head and pull down the hem of my dress, feeling a little insecure about it all of a sudden. “Yes, sir, you are correct. Now, are you a Beatle?”

“Are you a fan?” he asks. Crap, how do you tell someone born and raised in the UK that you don’t particularly like the Beatles?

I drop my head a little and I bite down on my lower lip and I feel Ben’s reassuring hands hold a little tighter. I peek up and answer my boyfriend’s father. “Uh, not really… I mean I like a couple of their songs, but I…” I am cut off by Jack’s laughter.

“It’s OK, Tess. I am not going to shun you for not liking a music group.” He touches my arm and walks away to greet the folks behind us.

I turn to face Ben, and I put my hands on his chest and press my cheek to his where his heart is. In turn he rests his head on top of mine and he takes in a deep breath of air, exhaling with a sigh.

“Aww! Don’t you two look cute?” I hear a familiar accent come from behind. I pull away from Ben to turn and see Velma Kelly from the movie
Chicago
. Ben’s whole face lights up, I can only assume that this must be Caroline.