A Frickin' Fantastic Friday (The Zelda Dairies Book 3)

by Olivia Gaines

  “Ignore them both, Zelda. Those two are what men call breeders. They are great to have at home and make some moderately intelligent children who will grow up to be linebackers, but they are not the women you build something special with,” he said, pausing for effect before changing the subject. “Jake knew Margo was cheating on him because several men told him, but he didn’t care. He was just happy she wasn’t nagging the crap out of him. That is not what a marriage should be. You have a chance for something really amazing with Scott.”

  The sparkle in her brother’s eye is what made Zelda pause. “What are you thinking, Michael?”

  “I’m thinking Scott has as interesting backstory to his life that will give you topics of conversation for the rest of your days together. I almost want to go with you,” Michael said.

  Zelda was frowning.

  “Mike, you act like you are in love with Scott, too,” she said.

  “Naw,” he said. “I just love seeing you happy. Don’t let those women take this away from you with their negativity. Looks are surface. Being an asshole goes to the core. That pretty man you dated was an asshole.”

  He said it as he rose to clear his plate, kissed her on the forehead, and grabbed his keys. His belly was full and he was still tired, but a sensual woman remained on his list. “I won’t be out too late,” he told her.

  “Be safe,” she called out to him. “That feeling in your pants around a girl is a good thing!”

  “Always,” he responded, plugging in the number for one Diandra Kelly, an extremely sensual woman with a very large IQ who spoke in complete sentences when she reached her critical moment. The more time he spent with her, the more he liked her spirit.

  His spirits were starting to pick up a bit as well.

  “Goodnight, Zelda,” he said leaving the kitchen. It was going to be a good night indeed.

  Chapter 2

  One Week Later

  “Good morning, Scott,” Zelda said breathily in the line. Next week she would be in Hebron, Kentucky sitting beside him, holding his long strong fingers in between her thighs.

  “How is my spectacular lady?”

  “Missing you,” she said faster than she’d expected.

  “Same here. You know you don’t have to wait until your conference to come out and stay,” he said.

  Lean, long fingers trailed across her bare thigh at the thought of popping in to surprise him. She’s already crossed the time out on her calendar, her plane ticket was booked, and she was ready to roll. All she needed now was his invitation to come out early.

  “You would be okay with me staying more than a few days?” she inquired, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from him anyway.

  “I would be okay if you stayed forever,” he responded. “Tell me what you are thinking.”

  Nervous.

  Why am I so damned nervous?

  Tell him what you want.

  “Vacation days,” she said. “I have a good deal of vacation days. I was thinking of maybe flying in on Tuesday. Conference registration starts on Thursday, I can run over to the facility and get a few interviews. The Friday and Saturday schedule is the same so I can get everything done on Friday, which leaves me all day Saturday to be with you.”

  “Sounds like a plan. Zee, make sure I get the flight info. I will have Chandler pick you from the Cincinnati airport,” he told her.

  “No, I can rent a car and drive over,” she told him.

  “I wouldn’t hear of it. I will see you Tuesday,” he said. “Have an amazing day.”

  “You too,” she said with a grin.

  Hanging up the phone, she began to twirl around in the floor. She didn’t really know what it felt like to be in love, but this was as close as she’d been, and it was feeling pretty damned amazing. She was still twirling when she called the airline to verify her flight information.

  “Tuesday...here I come. Scott, you’d best be ready,” she said with a smile.

  *****

  “I am not ready, Chandler,” he told his longtime friend and butler as he looked around the remodeled master bedroom. Many touches were added to make the space more inviting for a woman to stay in, but having Zelda stay in the house made him nervous. Itchy nervous.

  The majority of the renovations to the master suite were complete, but the final touches had yet to be finalized. “Zelda is coming on Tuesday. The new tub is not in, and the vanity for her to do her makeup is not complete plus the closet for her things is not ready.”

  “Sir, we will have everything in order by Tuesday,” Chandler assured him.

  “Wait, I still have those meetings all day. I completely forgot about those! Shit. Maybe I should call her back...,” he started to say.

  “Sir, it is not an issue to secure her from the airport, bring her here, while providing her a comfortable area in which to await your arrival home in the evening,” Chandler said, raising an eyebrow.

  “You make it all sound so simple, Chandler.”

  “It is simple. Ms. Fitzsimmons will be in good hands,” Chandler assured him.

  “Thanks, old friend. Just make sure she doesn’t get hurt or fall through any door openings, okay?”

  Chandler smiled at the reference. The estate was an unusual place of mixed metaphors and styles and, he truly believed, had been constructed by a man on drugs. Loads of mind altering drugs. He fondly recalled the first time he’d come to the home. He was more terrified than anything, yet a few rooms were points of wonder to him and still were. It never failed to amuse him when seeing others’ reaction to the estate. The brightly colored rooms, the ventriloquist dolls which did not make the museum standard as well as rooms full of doll body parts could be a frightening experience. However, he was more excited, far more than he should have been, to experience Zelda’s reaction to the Berger family home. That, in itself, would be worth the price of admission.

  *****

  It was later in the evening when Dwayne, a longtime, childhood friend, arrived at Scott's house to complete the work on the custom vanity for the dressing space he'd created in the master suite for Zelda. As excited as Scott was about the surprise she would have at seeing her own space ready for use, a few other things still danced about in the back of his head. One mainly being the box of toys.

  Other questions picked at his gray matter but right now, the box of toys was really screwing with his calm.

  "What's eating you, Scott?" Dwayne asked, noticing the far off look on his friend's face.

  "A few things, but nothing serious," he commented.

  "I know you well enough to see when something is eating at you. Sound it out. Bounce it off of me and maybe I can help you figure it out," Dwayne offered his friend.

  A curious look covered his face as he searched for the words, finding nothing to cushion the question, he blurted it out. "Okay. What does a woman do with a two-headed dildo?"

  Dwayne dropped the nail gun. It landed at an odd angle, cracking the safety which housed the trigger and spewing rapidly firing nails all over the room. Scott dove behind the bed, while Dwayne, swatting wildly, tried desperately to catch the nail gun and stop the onslaught of flying pins.

  "What in the hell, Scott?"

  Still behind the bed, Scott came to his knees as if he were in prayer. He scratched at his head a bit, looking at his friend, who searched the floors and walls for stray nails. One overstuffed green chair was the recipient of the bulk of the flying slim pins. The chair now looked a lot like a medieval torture device.

  "I mean, I was just wondering. I don't have a lot of experience with those kinds of things so I was curious, that's all," Scott said.

  "I sure as hell hope you don't. I mean if you get into pegging that's cool and all, I would never be one to judge," Dwayne said.

  "Pegging? What's that?"

  "It's when a woman straps on a you know...so she can come behind you and you know...," Dwayne said, his cheeks warming.

  "No. I don't know. People actually do that kind of stuff?"
r />   Dwayne nodded his head yes as he turned to continue with his task. The vanity was made from a piece of granite left over from a kitchen remodel on a horse farm down in Louisville. The remnant was the perfect size for a woman's vanity. Although he had yet to meet this Zelda, he had a feeling she would really like it.

  "Scott, did Zelda try to use a twofer on you or something?" Dwayne asked, easing back into the subject.

  "No. I saw one in a store and was curious," he half-lied.

  "Hmmp," Dwayne said. "If it had two heads, it is for a couple to use. Usually it’s for two chicks to wiggle back and forth on while they do some hand play after scissoring before they pretend it is some big hard man pleasing them both."

  "You have such a way with words," Scott said through hooded eyes.

  "What else did you see in this store?"

  Scott scratched at his chin, finding more thoughts which had no home. He wanted to speak on the list, but gave it second thoughts. Some of the items he understood, others were fuzzy. Best to ask and know, than to not ask and be surprised in the middle of his sexy time with Zelda when she shoved something up his bung hole.

  "Metal balls on a string, a black butt plug, nipple clips," he said. His cheeks grew red as his hands went to his chest, rubbing his nipples. His man titties were still tender from that last interaction. He pulled out his phone, about to send Zelda a message to bring the clips, but decided instead to invest in his own pair. The half-smile was seated on his face when he looked up at Dwayne.

  Dwayne was not smiling.

  His lips were tight.

  The brown eyes were squinted.

  “Is this Zelda woman turning your goofy ass out?" Dwayne asked flatly.

  "What? Who are you calling goofy?"

  "You! Scott, is she running crazy shit up your bung hole and making you cum and squeal like a bitch?" Dwayne asked.

  "She did not run anything up my ass. Even if she did, I wouldn’t tell you, besides, I was just wondering that’s all,” he said blushing a bit. The blushing was an indication that the very rigid, well-mannered doll maker was having a bit of fun and letting down his hair. Things he wanted to share with his longtime friend, he kept hidden, but his eyes said unspoken words that Dwayne understood.

  He smiled at Scott who laughed. Dwayne knew him well, which made Scott laughed hard and loud. The laughter sprang up from his gut as he backed up and fell across the bed. Moments later, Dwayne began to laugh too because it this was a side of Scott that he'd never seen in the whole of their friendship. It was actually nice.

  "You did something freaky didn’t you, Scott?"

  Leaning on one arm, he half sat up on the bed, looking at Dwayne. "Yes, and good Lord, I nearly made that woman a mother."

  Dwayne took a seat, still grinning.

  “A mother, eh?"

  "Yeah, she is something special," Scott said through his chuckles.

  "I look forward to meeting her," Dwayne said. He watched Scott's face. "Outside of the sex...is there anything else there, between you and her... I mean."

  "Yes. There is a lot there. It is real. We spent over an hour lying on her bed, not in it, on it, discussing books, movies, and I tell you, her insights were amazing. She wanted to watch her subscription service shows, and I just knew it was going to be two hours of cat fights and bleeps, but no, she watched thought-provoking television. Which in itself is an oxymoron, but the shows were good, Dwayne. I have found her. All these years, I have found my wife, the mother of my children, my life partner. Dwayne, she makes me feel like I am three feet taller," he said softly.

  "You sure she is the one?" Dwayne wanted to know.

  “She's it. I am so confident that she is the one, I asked her brother for her hand in marriage. I actually asked him for his permission to marry his sister. I'm going to do it to!"

  "I am trying to imagine you down on one knee popping the question."

  "Not yet. I will, but we have a ways to go. She is coming here next week and she has to see all of this first. A good deal of this may be a deal breaker, but it is my life and my world. It is my pod to bear," he said with a smirk.

  "Yeah, let me know how that pod thing goes – that would be worth a front row ticket," Dwayne said. "I also would want to be a fly on the wall to see her face when she sees the tub, the closet, and this vanity."

  "You are talking about the normal stuff in a bedroom suite. I am worried about the rest of it," Scott said as he looked about the transformed bedroom. In time, he could alter some of the house, but only his portion.

  The rest of the house was just too weird to tackle. He only hoped that next week his spectacular girl wouldn't back away from the challenge.

  Chapter 3

  Tuesday, Cincinnati Airport

  Zelda arrived at the Cincinnati/Northern Kentucky International Airport a little after two o’clock, exiting the main doors, pulling her black striped well-traveled carryon behind her. Dressed sharply in a red knee length skirt and a pair of black and red mid-heel strappy sandals accompanied by a black sweater set with pearls, the rose bracelet with rubies Scott had given her shone brightly as the star of the ensemble. She rubbed at it nervously as she scanned the parked cars on the sidewalk. A feeling of stupidity ebbed through her stomach into her lower abdomen because she’d failed to ask her man what kind of car Chandler would be in to pick her up. The black sweater became sticky as it clung to her body, soaking up the perspiration building from the nervousness of waiting and not knowing what type of vehicle to expect at curbside.

  Her eyes ventured down the line of parked cars idling in the yellow zone patrolled carefully by a round bellied man on a Segway. Her eyes followed him as he fervently checked the chalk marked tires he’d marked on his first pass in search of time violators. Zelda’s eyes ceased to trail the round man when she spotted Chandler standing beside a black town car holding a sign which read Ms. Fitzsimmons. Pep came to her step as she arrived in front of him at the same time a little old woman with blue hair did as well.

  “I’m Henna Fitzsimmons,” the old woman said to Chandler.

  “My apologies, Madam, I am here to collect that Ms. Fitzsimmons,” he motioned with his head towards Zelda.

  “Oh, what a shame. I came to visit my grandbabies, but the cost of a taxi is so much on my meager fixed income. I was hoping that for once my stupid son had a new thought in that empty head of his and sent someone to pick me up,” Henna said. “I’ve been here for three hours. I am beat.”

  “Where exactly are you headed, Ms. Fitzsimmons?” Zelda asked.

  “To Ft. Wright in Kentucky. It is just over the bridge,” she said, eyeing Zelda’s pretty bracelet. Ms. Henna Fitzsimmons put on a charming smile hoping Zelda would take mercy on her and give her a ride.

  “Chandler, will that be out of our way if we could drop her off?” Zelda asked.

  He only raised one eyebrow. “No Madam, it will not be,” he responded.

  “Great. Ms. Fitzsimmons, is this all of your luggage?” Zelda asked.

  “Yes, Dearie. I like to travel light,” she said, looking over at the banged-up suitcase that had seen better days. The case looked to be as old as Ms. Henna herself.

  “I must warn you, Ms. Fitzsimmons, if this is some ploy or gag orchestrated so that when we drop you off, someone comes out and tries to rob us, my brother will send people to get you and everything you love. You understand me, old lady?” Zelda said with a straight face.

  Chandler’s back went rigid. He’d given thought to the same exact idea and providing the old woman a ride was dangerous as well as poorly rationalized. He was going to caution Scott’s lady friend, but was surprised she was ahead of him.

  “Oh Dearie, no,” Henna responded. “I just want to get there and see my grandkids.”

  “Give me the address,” Zelda said as she opened the door for the little old lady. Henna provided her an address that Zelda pulled up on google, did a wide shot of the neighborhood to ensure it was in fact a house, and asked Chandler to go ahead once they
and their bags were secured. He said nothing as he followed the directions being called from Zelda’s phone as she sat in the front seat next to him.

  Henna was asleep before the car left the airport terminal lanes. Zelda, reaching into the back seat, raided the old lady’s purse to locate some ID. She found her driver’s license, which did in fact say her name was Henna Fitzsimmons. Zelda held it up so Chandler could see it before he merged onto the interstate.

  It was a short drive to Ft. Wright. The three arrived at the home of Henna’s son to be greeted by a teenage boy with spiked purple hair who looked suspiciously at the car.

  “Who is that, Grandma?” the boy asked as Chandler sat her suitcase on the front porch.

  “Some very nice people who gave a tired old woman a ride. It seems your father forgot to come get me and I have been at the airport waiting for over three hours,” she said.

  “I’m sorry, Grandma. I didn’t know. Come on in and get comfortable. Let me make you a sandwich or something,” he said to her. He waved at Zelda and Chandler. “Thank you for taking care of her.”

  “You are welcome,” Zelda said, rolling up the window.

  Chandler returned to the car, still slightly amused to see Zelda in the front seat. He slid into the driver’s seat, shifting the car into gear, merging onto the road and soon back onto the interstate. His eyes slid sideways, eyeing Zelda in the passenger seat. Her head was down as she thumbed through notes she extricated from her briefcase.

  “Don’t give me that look, Chandler. I know it was a gamble,” she said.

  He said nothing. It was not his place to say anything to her today or at any other time. Schooled in self-defense, had it come to something more than a drop off, he was prepared for any eventuality, although she didn’t know it.

  “It could have been dangerous, but she was tired and scared. Her ankles were also swollen. The look on her face when she saw that sign said more than her words ever could,” she told him.

  “Might I inquire as to what you read into her look, Ms. Fitzsimmons?” he asked.