by Dani Lovell
I smiled at his honesty. “I understand. I like you, Sebastian.” And I meant it. Doesn’t mean I won’t strongly dislike him when the other, crude, ‘sex-pest’ side of him returns, but currently, I like him.
“Good. I like you, too; always have. It’s a beautiful evening out there,” he said, changing the subject and nodding towards the view of the terrace outside.
“It certainly is. Are you here for much longer or are you flying off somewhere soon?”
“I’ll be here for a couple more days and then fly back out to LAX to work on the ground for a day or two. Then I’ll be back in the air again pretty soon after that. How about you? When are you back to LA?”
“I’ll be back in a week or so. I’ve been working from here quite effectively so I’m managing to have a little more time off with the family.”
“Maybe we could meet up for dinner sometime. Just dinner.”
“That would be nice.” And for one of the first times, I actually meant that, too.
“Shall we get back?” he asked, “The others must be wondering where we’ve gotten to.”
“Yes, they’ll be starting to imagine all sorts.”
We both stood slowly and before we walked away from the loungers, Sebastian took my coffee cup from my hand and placed it down, with his, on the table, before taking the tips of my fingers in his hands. “Before we go,” he stepped closer to me and stared into my eyes, making me a little uncomfortable, “just one more thing, if you don’t mind.”
“Uh huh?” I asked softly, a suspicion excitedly dancing in my head about what ‘one more thing’ is.
He leant forward very slowly, still looking into my eyes as if asking for permission, and an internal fight ensued; one half of me feeling an urgent need to nip it in the bud right that minute, the other wanting to accept one last deliciously warm and sensual kiss with this strong and sexy man. Oh yeah, that was going to win.
As his lips gently brushed mine, all confusion went out of the window. I wanted this. He released my hands and lightly pressed his into my waist, tugging me slightly towards him as he pressed his mouth against mine more firmly.
Slowly, he introduced that tongue, that hot, talented, sensual tongue that can do all sorts of fantastic things to my vagina. Alexia, STOP! It was so slow, so perfectly rhythmic. My hands instinctively reached up to brush his face, my fingernails gently threading through that inviting beard and slipping around to cup his hot, thick neck. He’s so masculine!
He moaned lightly and moved faster, squeezing me against him as if he couldn’t get enough of my flesh against his… I’m forgetting that we were fully clothed at that point, clearly. My memory has been playing all sorts of tricks on me about that night, ever since.
We must have been standing there kissing for at least ten minutes, and with each passing one, it became more heated and passionate, and at no point did my mind tell me ‘enough is enough’. By the time he finally pulled away, our hands had caressed almost all of the other’s body, his rubbing against me between my legs so tempting that I almost wept when we parted. When he touched my breasts, it was like electricity surged through each and every nerve in my body. I’ve never experienced that before. Maybe it’s because I find him more domineering than my other sexual partners… who knows.
“Wow. Thank you for that,” he said with that shy sort of smile that makes me find this unbearable man so temptingly irresistible. It’s so hard to decipher whether he’s being painfully honest and charming, or if he’s just as smooth as hell and playing me like a fiddle.
Of course I’d prefer the former but somehow I think it’s most likely the latter, and that’s definitely new to me, and as no one has ever even contemplated playing me for fear of having their balls sawn off with a bread knife, I find it strangely attractive. This is screwed up. And I’m screwed if I feel like this. And to top it off… I think I kinda want to get screwed.
Anyway, shortly after, we left the pool and joined the rest of the party in the living room. That was the last I really spoke to Sebastian after that. And I haven’t spoken to him since. But I’ve thought about him constantly.
CHAPTER SEVEN
MONDAY 17TH MARCH CONT.
Right now, I’m at work in my office at HBHQ in LA as usual and having a typically busy day. I’m very much looking forward to my afternoon meeting with Bea and Tilly for Bea’s first wedding dress appointment.
I’m so honoured that she invited me along to help her make her decision. It’s a shame Clare and Bea’s mom couldn’t make it, but that’s the sad reality when you live part-time across the world from your friends and family. Luckily, she has plenty of friends here, too, and I hope that she feels the love that we all have for her.
I started my day the way I normally would during the week, with a hard work out in the gym of my apartment building. A couple of times a week, Luke trains with me to keep me motivated and make sure I’m pushing myself properly, and the rest of the time, I work out alone.
Although, strictly, he doesn’t train individuals anymore, Luke is happy to work out with me and train himself at the same time. I’d pay him of course but he’s not interested – he says he wouldn’t charge a sibling for his training services so why would he charge me. I love that we have that type of relationship; he looks out for me and I scold him. Just like little brother and big sister. It works well. Though the difference in him since he met Tilly has been immense, naughty playboy to husband and father of the year. I’m so proud of him.
Today was a ‘Luke training day’ and he worked me hard. I won’t feel it until tomorrow or Wednesday, but I always have a fantastic energy about me all day when I’ve had a really hard training session in the morning, and then I get home in the evening and pass out almost immediately.
Working out is very important to me; I love to see my body change when I focus on a particular area, feeling my muscles firm up. It makes me feel good about myself and confident about my appearance. It’s so empowering to be able to control and maintain the shape of my body. I suppose that’s just the type of person I am; I like to be in control 24/7.
Having left a meeting just twenty minutes ago, I’m surprised when my assistant buzzes through to let me know that Bea and Tilly are waiting for me. Time just flies, but - oh, how excited I am to watch my beautiful sister-in-law-to-be try on stunning gowns until she finds ‘the one’. I’m going to like everything she tries on, I just know it, and she’ll look perfect in them all, no doubt.
“Okay, send them in, please,” I buzz back, beginning to tidy my desk in preparation to leave, and almost immediately, the duo practically bounce through the door, excitedly.
“Sexy Lexie! Are you ready for some fun?” Tilly sings and as with every time she calls me that, I regret sharing that titbit of information about what Sebastian has previously called me.
“Hey Tilly, yes. I’m definitely ready and very excited. Hi, Bea,”
“Hey, hey!” Bea greets, walking around my desk to throw a casual arm around my shoulders and kissing my cheek. “You okay? Good morning?”
“Yes, thank you; very productive. I’ll just finish clearing this up and have a quick word with Hannah and then I’m done. I didn’t realise what the time was, my meeting ran on longer than expected this morning.”
“Lex, you don’t have to explain, we know you’re not disorganised or flaky in any which way, so chill out. And anyway, we’re a little early.”
Yes, she knows me well already. I hate for anyone to think I’m anything but perfectly on–the-ball and efficient at all times. “Okay. Thank you.” I reach down to press the buzzer, “Hannah, could you come in, please?”
“Ooh she’s so masterful and important,” Tilly says with a little shimmy of the shoulders and a devilish smile as she strolls around nosing at things in my office, making me grin.
“Yeah I am, bitches.” I say coolly with a wink, and watch the girls surprised expressions grow on their faces. I am this person deep down, but I rarely let that side of me out in pub
lic.
Hannah walks in almost immediately and I quickly delegate some of my work over to her to be done in my absence and then I’m pretty much ready to leave. I’m so excited.
“So what do you reckon, a few drinkies after the fitting?” Bea asks on the way down in the lift.
“Definitely!” Til responds, “Luke said to go out and enjoy myself, he’s fine with Emily. He’s the best dad ever. And husbo…” She swoons slightly, gazing up.
“Well, I was planning on returning to work but I think Hannah’s going to be able to do everything I’ve asked of her, so why not?”
“Yay!” Bea says, skipping on the spot. These girls are so full of bubbles; it’s almost contagious.
Pretty soon we’re at one of the dress stores, a beautiful small boutique filled with whites and ivories and champagnes, and the unique smell, divine, the scent of a Jo Malone candle I once owned and keep meaning to replace.
I didn’t think Bea would be one to visit one of those huge wedding dress stores, but I hadn’t quite expected somewhere so quaint and cosy, I hadn’t even known this place existed until we arrived here. Well, I suppose wedding dress shopping isn’t something I’ve done a huge amount of. I’ve never been dress shopping with a friend, I didn’t have too many good friends before Bea and Tilly came along. I’ve always been more focused on work and family than having a huge group of friends. I never want to give up these girls, though; they’ve become so precious to me.
Within just a few moments, we’ve been offered a glass of champagne each by Joyce, the uniquely attractive, eccentric storeowner, and ushered through the main store entrance into a plush and indulgent fitting area. There is a raised platform stage in the centre and luscious fabric couches to recline on to watch the show.
We sit for a while as Bea talks through her likes and dislikes with Joyce, and I listen intently as she describes the style of dress she has been dreaming of her whole life. It’s going to be such a wonderful feeling to listen to her ideals and then eventually, potentially witness her finding it, and her dream coming to life. Up until this moment, her dress has been something she’s always wanted but never actually seen, and I’m about to watch that change.
“I know exactly your style, Beatrice,” Joyce says, in a deep and gravelly tone, addressing us all, “I’ll go ahead and select a few dresses for you to try and we’ll go from there, depending on what you like. I’ll be back in a few minutes, in the meantime, girls… enjoy, and help yourselves to more champagne,” she points over to a shabby chic, restored silver table which houses an ice bucket and bottle of champagne, before disappearing through an archway.
She’s obviously been in the business for many years; she’s so natural with her customers and the job at hand. As she moves around the store, she looks as if she’s in her own home.
I imagine Joyce to be around sixty… maybe sixty five years old, she has wild, coarse, copper-coloured hair and a complexion that tells you she adores the sunshine and a cigarette or twelve; her abrasive voice would confirm that, too.
She rocks a dress sense to match her statement hair, crazy, bright and messy, but oh-so-fantastically full of personality and individual style. She must have a ring on every over-worked, swollen finger, huge multi-coloured gems set in various types of metal, and her fluorescent orange nails would normally have me reaching for the polish remover and cotton in an attempt to clean that muck off, but on Joyce, somehow it works perfectly.
“Cheers!” Tilly says, holding her glass high, and we join her, raising ours, smiling broadly.
“Cheers, congratulations, Bea. Thank you so much for inviting me along for this special moment.”
She rolls her eyes playfully. “Lex, how many times? Would you stop saying that? Of course you’re here – you would always be with me for something like this. You’re Daniel’s sister! You’re my sister!”
“Er…” Tilly interrupts, “And mine, thanks…”
I giggle, “Well thank you. I’m honoured.”
We clink and sip and share a knowing, excited smile just as Joyce returns with a younger girl, both with dress bags draped across their arms. They hang them on a nearby rail and the assistant begins to take the gowns from their bags.
“Now, as you can see, I’ve only brought a few out for now, see what styles you like, and then we can get some more afterwards, sweetie, okay?”
“That’s fantastic, thank you.” Bea responds, gratefully.
I can see Tilly itching to get at the dresses, rocking in her seat, playing with the stem of her champagne flute, her eyes drinking in the sparkles and riches as they are pulled from their bags.
“Now, did you bring some heels, Beatrice? Or would you like me to go get you a pair? And did you remember to wear nude panties as we discussed over the phone?”
“No, it’s okay, I brought some shoes, and yes, I remembered the knickers, er... panties,” Bea says in her very English accent, making the word ‘panties’ sound like a completely different word, altogether, and she walks over to the shoe bag she brought with her.
“Good girl,” Joyce says in her deep tone, “you bring those with you into the fitting room, but first – please have a little look through the gowns and decide which will be your first to try.”
“Ooh,” Bea says with a tiny excited giggle, holding her hands together as she approaches the rail with wide eyes - just like a little girl. “I suppose I can try any one on right now, so, um…” she puts her fingertip to her lip and purses as she picks one at random. “I’ll go with this one.”
Tilly squeals excitedly next to me as Bea disappears through a curtain into a large, mirrored dressing room, followed by Joyce and gown#1.
“Now, you girls sit tight, she’ll be out in a minute. Beatrice, dear, you get undressed and I’ll be back in just a moment to help you get the dress on.” She closes the rich, silk drapes as if she’s stroking a prized Persian cat with those jewel-drenched sausage fingers, and again walks through the archway purposefully.
“She’s gonna look fucking amazing in everything, you know that?” Tilly says to me, shaking her head. “It’s going to be a right pain in the arse trying to pick one because we’re going to love fucking everything.”
“I was thinking exactly the same thing earlier, how are we going to pick? It’s definitely going to be a tough call today.”
“I know, I’m almost hoping she looks minging in most of them so we have less of a job trying to pick the favourite.”
I laugh, “Minging?”
“Oh yeah, I keep forgetting you don’t use that here – yeah, you know – gross, hideous, totally unattractive.”
“Hmm, okay… interesting. Well I very much doubt it’s physically possible for Bea to look unattractive in anything, but I agree, it would make our lives a little easier right now.”
The noise of yet another text message on my cell distracts us slightly from the conversation about Bea’s ridiculously unfair beauty, but having heard about a thousand emails and texts deliver to my cell since I left work, I’m not in the slightest interested in checking them and feeling that uncontrollable urge to let work take over. I’m helping to choose my sister-in-law’s wedding dress, for heavens sake, I refuse to sit here on my cell responding to emails.
Joyce returns to the fitting room within a few minutes and it takes much less time than expected for her to step out and slowly pull back those precious drapes to reveal Bea in the first dress; a stunning ‘Berta’ number.
“Oh my God!” Tilly squeals, cupping her nose and mouth with both hands as her eyes begin to well up. I turn from Tilly to look at our focal point as she slowly steps out and onto the raised platform in front of us.
I’m rarely without words, unless I’m with Sebastian and he’s saying despicable things to me, but I am totally lost as I look at Bea in the most beautiful wedding gown I think I’ve ever seen.
“Oh my goodness,” I whisper, open-mouthed, “Bea, it’s just… you look… wow.”
Bea’s face is a picture, her s
mile is as broad as the most expansive of oceans and tears fill her eyes as she looks into the mirrors of the huge dressing room from the podium on which she stands, for the first time.
“What do you think, Beatrice?” Joyce asks, seemingly unaware of the awe in the room as she plays with the train of the dress behind her, “I always tell ladies not to look in the mirror until they are on the step, it’s a much fuller view from here,” she explains to Tilly and I.
“Oh, gosh… Joyce…” she says, her eyes moving up and down to fully take in each and every detail of the stunning dress. “I think this is the one already!”
“Already?” She asks with a laugh, “Wow, I did good! It does fit you like a glove, though. I think the sample was made for you!”
“Bea, oh God, Bea – this has to be the one – it’s incredible…” Tilly says, sobbing like a baby. “Ignore this crying shit, I can’t stop doing it. I thought it would go with the end of the pregnancy, but no. It won’t bugger the fuck off. Anyway, that’s not important right now. What is important is that I don’t want you to try anything else on – I need you to get married in this dress!”
I nod in absolute agreement. “Bea, she’s right – you are beautiful in this dress. It’s so perfect for you, and Daniel will fall in love with you all over again when he sees you in this. He’ll love it.”
“Oh my God!” Tilly says loudly, nodding, “he so will! He’ll want to stare at you in it and rip it off all at the same time.”
Everybody laughs and then the room stills for a moment as Bea simply gazes at the gown. After an eternity, she nods gently. “I don’t want to try anymore. This is what I have dreamed of my entire life. I want this dress. I want to marry my Daniel dressed in this.”
“Beatrice,” Joyce says, her voice raspy, as ever, “are you sure, sweetie It’s a huge decision. I mean, I agree, I don’t think I’ve seen anyone try this gown and look quite as glamorous in it as you, but are you really sure you don’t want to make sure there isn’t one on this rail that can out-do even this one?”