by Fiona Riley
Andrew cued up the music for the next suitor and the unmistakable sound of Right Said Fred filled the room. “You’re kidding me, “I’m Too Sexy”? Who has the balls to come out to that song?” Abby scoffed.
“I think you mean lady balls.” Samantha laughed when Abby’s jaw dropped.
“No way.”
“Oh, yes. In many ways, yes.” Samantha cheered and stood as Sasha sauntered out on stage in a choreographed dance, slowly strutting along the runway, her head down and a fire helmet obscuring her eyes until the chorus started up, at which time the helmet was tossed to a cheering woman in the crowd and she started shrugging off her jacket. Abby tried to concentrate on what Andrew was saying, but she was distracted by Sasha’s thumbs sliding up and down the suspenders. The jacket long forgotten, she was in just a black bra and pants now.
“Let’s start the bidding at two hundred and fifty dollars. Ladies, who wants a chance to let Sasha put out that fire for you?”
A slew of auction catalogs went up, the fluorescent numbers on the back signaling the enthusiastic interest of multiple women in the crowd. At each increasing bid, Sasha walked toward the bidder and gave them a little show—a kiss on the cheek, a playful wink, she even sat on one older woman’s lap and let her smack her ass. The whole time Abby watched in shock, unmoving, at what was unfolding in front of her. As the numbers climbed, the bidding started to slow down. And then Dianna Rabin’s hand went up in the air. She doubled the largest bid and raised her martini glass in Sasha’s direction.
“Dianna,” Abby cursed under her breath. She had forgotten how interested Dianna had mentioned she was in her mystery girl. Her blood boiled.
“Now, now, Abby. This is what I was talking about—saving those pennies for the right moment. This is that moment.” Samantha leaned across the table between them and motioned back to the stage. Sasha was standing in front of Dianna and Dianna reached out and snapped one of Sasha’s suspenders to the adoration of the crowd.
“You can’t be seri—” Before Abby could finish her sentence, Samantha grabbed her elbow and thrust the hand clutching her auction catalog into the air.
“We have a challenging bid!” Andrew cheered and both Dianna and Sasha looked over in surprise. But no one was more surprised than Abby.
“Samantha, what the hell?”
Samantha merely shrugged. “Whoops.”
Before Abby could decide whether she was angry or not, Dianna called out another bid, grabbing Sasha by the suspenders when she moved toward Abby’s direction.
“You’re not going to let Sasha get scooped up by Dianna, are you?” Samantha teased in response to Abby’s annoyed grunt.
Abby wasn’t the jealous type, typically. But this wasn’t a typical situation, was it? She watched as Dianna looked back at her with a wink before grabbing the front of Sasha’s pants and tugging her closer. Sasha’s elevated height on the runway paired with Dianna’s tall frame put Dianna’s mouth right in line with Sasha’s—
Before she knew what she was doing, she was out of her seat with the catalog high in the air. Andrew called out her bid and Dianna looked back over her shoulder, her expression wicked. That was a look Abby was all too familiar with—this was about to get interesting. She took a deep breath.
“Do we have a challenging bid?” Andrew sounded almost giddy, but Abby didn’t dare take her eyes off of Dianna and Sasha.
Dianna took a sip from her martini glass before setting it aside. She picked up her bidding sheet and pressed her palm flat to Sasha’s abdomen, leaning forward to lick a line across Sasha’s stomach, her bid sheet waving like a victory flag. The crowd roared, and Abby saw red.
“Well, now. This is getting a little X-rated.” Andrew fanned himself before looking toward Abby. “Shall we let these ladies have a room or does anyone care to—”
“I’ll triple it.” Abby was convinced she was possessed. Someone was definitely controlling her from outside her body. There was no way she just bid over three months’ mortgage payments for a date with a woman she was most likely already going on a date with anyway.
“Sold!” Sasha yelled from the stage, cutting the bidding war short. She kissed Dianna on the cheek before she bounded off in Abby’s direction. To Dianna’s credit, she applauded and gave Abby a friendly nod. Abby wondered—if she ever did take Dianna up on her proposal, would this little bidding war come back to haunt her?
“Well done, Abs.” Samantha patted her on the back and disappeared just as Sasha walked up.
“You know, I was going to take you out for dinner regardless of whether or not you bid on me, right?” Sasha was standing close to her. Close and still not wearing a shirt.
“I was hoping.” Abby decided trying to maintain eye contact was an impossible feat.
Sasha smiled and ran her hand along the back of her neck, looking almost shy—that was something Abby had never seen from her before. “That’s kind of a lot of money though, Abby. I’m feeling a little insecure—I mean, you just bought yourself one hell of a date. I don’t want to disappoint.”
Abby blinked. “Then don’t.”
Sasha laughed. “Well, that settles that.”
Abby nodded, not sure what to say next. She had just spent an exorbitant amount of money buying a date with a woman she barely knew, but had already kissed. A woman she feared had some serious womanizing tendencies, a fear not quelled by her flirtatious striptease just moments ago. She had clearly lost her damn mind. Clearly.
“Can I buy you a drink?” Sasha’s lips parted and the contrast of her white teeth on that deep red lip color was mesmerizing.
“I think it’s the least you could do,” Abby teased. “But first, can you do me a favor?”
“Anything.” Sasha gave her a serious, focused look.
“Can you put on a shirt? I’m having a really hard time not having a conversation with your breasts.” Abby figured at this point just owning up to the distraction that was Sasha’s perfectly toned and cut body was the best thing to do here.
“Oh, sure.” Sasha looked momentarily modest before that façade quickly faded. “But you know, Abby. I have a feeling we have great potential to be breast friends.”
Abby laughed and wondered just how true that statement would become.
Chapter Ten
Sasha examined her makeup in the mirror in the front foyer of her parents’ home and second-guessed her decision to wear her hair down.
“You look great—stop fussing.” Her mother’s image appeared over her shoulder. Their similarities were striking: she had her mother’s milky white skin, strong jaw, and dark eyes, although the shape was more her Irish father’s than her Russian mother’s. She had a light dusting of freckles on her nose and across her shoulders; she burned in the sun like her father. Even with his fair skin and complexion, he still managed to keep a darker tan than Sasha had ever achieved—he credited it to the lifetime of outdoor construction work he did before the accident. His farmer’s tan had never faded, even as his health did. Their only child, when she stood side by side with them, together, it was clear she was equal parts each.
Her mother looked tired. The bags under her eyes were particularly dark today. “Have you slept, Ma?”
Her mother met her gaze in the mirror and sighed. “Your father’s nights have been getting worse. He has more mucus. It’s harder to breathe. The machines are only doing so much.”
Sasha felt herself deflate.
“Don’t worry, Sash. Focus on your big date. There will be more worries tomorrow and the next day. No point in spoiling a good time in the present.” Her mother swept a mass of dark hair off Sasha’s shoulder. “I like it down. You are stunning.”
“Thanks, Ma.” She leaned into her mother’s touch and let herself be held for a moment. Some of the physical affection had faded from their relationship over the years—she assumed it was from the strain of her father’s health needs. But she missed it, nonetheless. Sometimes she just wanted to be held by her mom. “Oh, before I forget
…”
Sasha walked toward the front door and opened her purse. She pulled out the small manila envelope and handed it to her mother. “Last month was a good month. I had a couple great catering jobs and worked a few double shifts at the firehouse. This should help put a dent in things.”
Her mother’s face was grateful, but she only nodded as she took the envelope and put it in her pocket, not bothering to look inside. Sasha knew it pained her to take Sasha’s money, but she also knew that without all the overtime and extra catering jobs she did, her parents would have to sell the house, and even that might not keep them afloat. She couldn’t undo the damage to her father’s body, but she could at least help lessen the burden financially.
“Thank you, Sasha.”
“Sure thing, Ma.” She didn’t make a big deal out of it, ever. She was their only child and her parents had sacrificed everything to make sure she had the best education and life money could buy. They had never lived grandly, but they loved fully. And she wanted to make sure that same standard was afforded to her father for the rest of his life, no matter how short that might be. It didn’t matter if she worked more hours than not. If he was cared for and didn’t have to worry, it was all worth it. They were worth it. He was worth it.
“Did you get her flowers?” Duncan’s voice was raspier than usual, and he balanced against the door frame of the kitchen to talk to her.
“Flowers? We’re not going steady, Dad. It’s a first date.” Sasha watched her mother back out of the room, careful not to let her father see the envelope in her pocket. She and her mom both worked hard to keep the debt and debt collectors from him—he needed to focus on his health, not on the endless pile of medical bills.
“Sasha. This woman literally paid for you. As in you were bought. Owned. Belong to her for one night.” Duncan shook his head. “The least you could’ve done was get her flowers.”
“She didn’t purchase me as a sex slave off the black market, Dad. It was a charity fundraising auction—I’m just a really hot tax write-off.” She blew him a kiss and he laughed. “And obviously I bought her flowers—they’re in the car. Back off my game, Old Man.”
“Just remember to pack protection.” Her father’s attempts at keeping a straight face were thwarted when her mother hissed in his direction.
“Duncan, enough.” Her mother looked scandalized. “Have a good time, love. Feel free to leave me in the dark about the details.”
Sasha saluted her and stage-whispered to her father, “Make sure the warden lets you have that extra dessert I brought by.”
“Operation Macaron is already under way.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a half-eaten cookie he had clearly hidden. Her dad was the best.
*****
Sasha wasn’t used to so many rules. The truth was that she was more of a rule breaker than a follower. But when Abby had requested they meet at their date destination instead of Sasha picking her up, she decided to go with it. That’s when Abby added her other stipulation—she would pick the date venue and the time. Sasha wasn’t sure how to feel about that. She was more comfortable with a little more control, especially since she was planning to show Abby the best first date of her life.
She had thought of Abby often since the kiss at Samantha’s wedding, and she was annoyed with herself that she hadn’t noticed how charming and funny and hot Abby was during all those times they had crossed paths at the Perfect Match mixers. But since the auction, when Abby put herself out there and put her money on the line, Sasha had been thinking about her almost constantly. So she decided to let Abby lead and see where it went. But she was determined to make sure it went somewhere. This felt a little too serendipitous to only put in the half effort. Abby was a beautiful, mysterious creature, and Sasha was more than eager to learn more about her.
She pulled up to the coffeehouse and smiled. Abby said this place was one of those new dual-purpose locations—coffeehouse and café during the day, intimate dining experience with locally harvested food at night. She had driven by probably a hundred times in the last few months and never noticed it. It was adorable. The outdoor patio was enclosed with wrought-iron railings adorned with white fairy lights. Planters with colorful, cascading flowers were placed evenly along the inside of the fence creating an urban garden feel under the soft cream-colored canopy that covered the seating space. Abby knew the owner, and they would have the place to themselves, or nearly so, during the restaurant’s soft open. It had sounded so quaint and romantic, and so far, she was not disappointed.
She parked at a meter and took a moment to appreciate the quiet Cambridge street. The café was close to the center, but just off the beaten path enough to be a hidden jewel. She leaned against her car and checked her phone. She was early. But then again, she was always early. That was kind of her thing. If you were on time, you were late—that was something both her parents agreed on. For her father, time was money. When he was a construction foreman, getting to the job site first was a badge of honor—he perused the work from the night before and mapped out his plan for the day. Her mother was no different. They were a family that liked to be prepared. That didn’t mean Sasha wasn’t spontaneous. It just meant she liked to have a backup plan, to have all her bases covered. And arriving early afforded her that luxury.
She looked around for any sign of Abby before she decided this was her chance. She grabbed the flowers from the front seat of her car and headed toward the restaurant. When the front door of the café wouldn’t open, she knocked on the glass. A young waitress met her with a smile.
“Hi. Are you Sasha or Abby?”
“Sasha. Is Abby here yet?”
“No, ma’am.” The waitress opened the door to the café a little bit wider, inviting Sasha inside. “I’m Courtney, and I’ll be working with you tonight.”
“Hey, Court. Nice to meet you. Let’s go ahead and drop that ma’am thing, stat.”
“Yes, ma—” The waitress stopped herself with a laugh. “Sorry, force of habit.”
Sasha took the moment to appreciate the amount of work it took to transform the indoor space from a café to a restaurant. Although all the tables and chairs had been relocated to the dinner setup, there were still tablecloths that needed to be laid out, napkins unfolded in piles by the bar, and about fifty votive candles waiting to be lit.
“Are you on your own with this stuff?” She motioned to the room around them.
“I am for a little bit longer—we weren’t expecting you or Miss, uh, Abby, to arrive for another twenty minutes or so. I should have backup soon.”
“Hey, can you do me a favor? Do you have any room to put these flowers in the refrigerator so they don’t wilt while we’re at dinner? I’d like them to be kind of a surprise.”
“I’m sure we can find room.” She took them and paused. “That’s really sweet.”
Sasha got the impression Courtney was checking her out. Normally, this kind of thing would segue into flirting, but she had every intention of making tonight a success with Abby, so she sidestepped the seemingly open door. “Thanks. Uh, while you do that, I’ll light these zillion candles. Teamwork makes the dream work, ya know?”
Courtney seemed to consider this for a moment. “Sure. Thanks. The lighter is by the bar. Just don’t hurt yourself.”
“I’m pretty good with fire, trust me.” Sasha didn’t wait for a reply before she headed for the waiting candles. A quick glance in the mirror behind the bar showed Courtney watching Sasha’s retreating frame—yup, she was definitely checking her out. Sasha smiled to herself as she appraised the candles. She took Courtney’s attention as a win in the I chose the right outfit column.
She made quick work of her project and by the time Courtney had returned, she had lit all but five candles.
“Whoa. You’re fast.” Courtney grabbed the stack of cloth napkins and held them up. “Care to try your hand at folding?”
Sasha glanced up at the clock above the bar. She still had a few minutes before Abby arrived. “
Sure. Lay it on me, sister.”
“Okay, so you fold the napkin into an upside-down triangle, tuck this fold in like this, and then mirror it with the other side before you flip it over and fold down the top. Like so.” Courtney was quick, so quick that Sasha thought she might have missed a step.
“I think you lost me.” Sasha tried to follow the instructions Courtney outlined, but somehow her napkin didn’t look anything like Courtney’s.
A noise by the bar drew her attention. An older bartender looked their way and waved to Courtney.
“It’s okay, I’ve got these.” Courtney looked past her toward the door. “My backup just arrived and I think that’s probably your friend Abby.”
Sasha turned in her seat to find Abby watching her through the glass. “Yup. Gotta go. I guess, I’ll see you…Where? Outside?”
“Yeah. I’ll open the door and get you ladies seated.” Courtney told the bartender to let the chef downstairs know his guests were here before she headed for the door. She stopped just short to ask, “This is a date, right?”
Sasha nodded. “It is.”
Courtney frowned. “I figured. Anyway, if this doesn’t work out, I’d be happy to have dinner with you sometime.”
Well that was bold. Sasha wasn’t sure what to say. Abby was about five inches away on the other side of the glass. It wasn’t that she wasn’t used to having a few girls in rotation at once, but this was a departure even for her. “Uh, I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.”
“Sure thing.” Courtney opened the door and greeted Abby. “Hi. You must be Abby. Micah said he’ll be right up. Please let me show you and Sasha to your seats.”
Abby appraised her with a look of suspicion. “Okay.”
“Hey.” Sasha stepped forward, trying to redirect Abby’s attention to her. “How are you? I’m glad we’re doing this.”
“Hi.” Abby still seemed a little distracted. “I’m good. Do you…know her?”