“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? I hear a lot of people get married along the Gorge or at the coast,” he said, pouring three wine glasses.”
“We’re getting married in Vancouver,” Danielle answered. “At the Hostess House. We love their garden.”
“And it’s only ten weeks away!” I added.
“Ah, the end is drawing nigh,” he said, taking a sip from his glass.
“Excuse me?” Ashley straightened up.
Alarm bloomed on Vince’s face. “I only meant the end of the planning, not your relationship. Nothing like that.” He became tongue tied for a moment.
“She’s only messing with you,” I said, hoping to ease his tension. I picked up my beer glass and raised it. “To two beautiful women! May they live happily ever after!”
“Cheers!” Danielle clanked my glass. Ashley and Vince followed suit. “We hope to see you there, Vince, as Maci’s plus-one.”
Vince turned to me. “Well, I hope to attend as Maci’s plus-one. I’ve never been to a wedding before.”
“To a gay wedding, you mean?” Ashley asked, sincerity in her tone.
“No, it will be my first wedding, gay or straight.”
“But you’re twenty-six,” she said flatly.
“That I am.” He drank a gulp. “And sadly, I’ve never found myself surrounded by a couple happy enough to tie the knot.”
“Really?” Danielle said, incredulous. “That sucks. They’re so fun. All the dancing and drinking with family and friends.”
“Well, if I’m lucky enough to ever go through the experience, it will be without family.” His eyes glazed over as he talked, distant. Melancholy dripped from his words.
“Estranged?” Ashley asked.
“No,” he shook his head. “I never knew my biological parents. I was adopted as a baby. Tragically though, my adoptive parents died in a car accident when I was eight. With no other family, I was placed in foster care, moving from one family to the next until my senior year of high school, when an older couple took me in. Both passed away two years ago.” Sorrow plagued Vince’s voice, and I had no idea where his openness was coming from, as he hadn’t even mentioned his childhood to me, and now here he was, sharing with everyone. I made a mental note to ask him about it later.
A somber quiet had settled in the room. “Sorry to ruin the mood,” he said a minute later. “I’m happy for you both. May you share eternal bliss!” He raised his wine glass for another toast.
“Hear! hear!” Danielle knocked her glass against his. After the round of clanking, she asked, “Is Bridgett coming tonight?”
“She never gave me a definite answer either way,” I replied, finding my phone inside my clutch. “I’ll ask her.” As I opened up the text log, a gentle thump came from the entrance. “Oh, that’s probably her.” I scurried to the door and opened it, and was a little shocked to see the fiery ginger hair of Becky, since she was usually the last to arrive at any event. She was wearing close-fitting leggings and a moderately cut blue blouse.
“Hey, Maci.” She reached in for a hug.
“Hey, Becky.” I returned her embrace. “I’m glad you could make it. It’s been months.”
“Yeah, I haven’t seen you since you and Bridgett opened the bakery,” she said, releasing her hold.
I stepped back. “You should stop by some time. I can hook you up with a free lunch.” She smiled, and as I gazed at her, a feeling crept into my brain, a feeling that told me I was forgetting something important. And then it hit me. “Oh my God. I never called her.”
“What?”
I waved her in and shut the door. “This woman from the gym,” I replied, my voice shooting for a squeaky high. She stared at me, not following. “She told me we could stay at her beach house in Cannon Beach for Hood to Coast, but I had to rush out that day, and I completely forgot after that. I forgot to even ask you if we have a place to stay.”
“Yeah, I already booked a beach house,” she said. “Oh, which reminds me, it’s a hundred and thirty-two for the race, and it’d be cool if you could pitch in thirty or forty for gas.”
“Wow, Danielle didn’t say it would be so expensive.”
“Sorry, I should’ve told you earlier. I’ll send you an email to remind you.”
“Thanks. That would help.”
“So, have you seen her since?”
“What?”
“The woman that offered her beach house,” she elaborated.
I shook my head. “No.”
“Well then I wouldn’t worry about it,” she advised. “You’ll probably never see her again.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” I shrugged it off. “Anyway, the party’s in the kitchen.” I led her through the condo to the kitchen, where Ashley and Danielle were now talking to both Alma and Vince.
“Boy, do I feel underdressed,” Becky said, as way of greeting. I scrutinized her closer. She was the only one not wearing a dress, even though mine was flowery instead of fancy. As I studied Becky, I noticed how much fitter she looked, especially her butt. At that moment an unbidden dirty thought snuck into my mind, and I pictured kissing her, contemplating what it would feel like. I had wondered on several occasions what it would be like to kiss another woman. It was hard not to, living with your best friend who also happened to be a lesbian and constantly talked about how lush women’s lips were.
Now with the list and Vince’s fantasy in the open, I had contemplated it actually happening and how it might go. It obviously couldn’t be with someone as close as Danielle or Ashley, but Becky was further removed as a friend, one that the scenario could work with; and if it ruined our relationship, it would be sad but not the end of the world. The idea, while hot, also carried a gloomy weight with it. I mean, how could our relationship ever be the same afterward? What if Vince decided I wasn’t the lover he wanted after all? He had only been with one other woman, so why settle for my inexperienced repertoire of conservative moves? Did I even have any moves?
I put
the thought far from my mind before it boggled me down.
While Ashley and Danielle hugged Becky, I introduced her to Vince and Alma. Alma had lost the conceited and malicious attitude, adopting a more peaceful appearance, with a friendly smile. I was afraid that she might stab someone at any moment, though—except Vince of course. She didn’t come across as a woman who enjoyed other women’s company at all. I thought to make it my mission to befriend her, but the idea just didn’t sound appealing enough to make it my resolve.
“When Bridgett shows up, we can begin the tour,” Vince said, which was accompanied by oohs and ahhs of my sophisticated, yet surprisingly goofy friends. I was actually looking forward to a tour, since I hadn’t seen much of the enormous condo, save for the master bedroom and the game room.
Bridgett replied to my text a short time later, confirming her attendance, and saying she was almost here. When she arrived, I did the standard introductions, poured her a beer, and shook my head at her fishnet stockings, laughing.
With Alma staying behind in the kitchen to stir the risotto, Vince began the tour. He started in the foyer, which he called a solarium, where the elevator dumped you. Through massive arched windows, you could see the entire city. Three beautiful chandeliers hung in the center of the room from a soaring fourteen-foot ceiling. The room was set up like a quiet living room with a three-cushion sofa, an armchair, and a loveseat arranged in an open square. “That door leads to the western terrace. Since it’s a little cold, we can skip that part.” He turned around and headed right, toward the master bedroom. “The Envoy people label this the ‘Great Room,’ but I just call it the game room.” The room was massive, with hardwood parquet flooring, and surrounded by more arched windows. “Up those stairs is the master bedroom.” He whirled on his heels, about to move on to the three upstairs bedrooms.
“Can we see it?” Danielle asked, giving me a mischievous look.
“Yeah, I’d like to see a billionaire’s bedroom,” Ashley threw in.
Vince hesitated for a second. “Sure, why not?” He grabbed my arm, and whispered in my ear, “The pillow in the closet,” while the rest went on ahead.
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