Pretty Girls

by Mimi Strong

“You really think Bobby's cute?”

  “I'm married. Do you think Bobby's cute?”

  “He could be taller, but he's not hideous,” Nora ceded.

  “Do you want him to drive you home? If things get strange, do you have cab fare?”

  “Yes and yes.”

  Tianne grinned. “You dirty girl.”

  “Shh, don't jinx it!”

  When they came out of the washroom, they found strangers at their former table, and Kylie and Bobby together on the dance floor. Kylie danced within her own bubble of grace, and Bobby danced with less grace but more enthusiasm, pumping his arms, his pale cheeks flushed.

  “Too late,” Nora said to Tianne, practically yelling to be heard over the music. “Kylie's got Bobby now. Just like high school, only back then it was you who got all the cute boys.”

  Tianne raised her eyebrows. “We know how that turned out.”

  “You have a good life,” Nora said.

  Tianne smiled.

  A man who looked big enough to be a bouncer waved them over to join him and a friend at their table.

  “Sure,” Nora said, leading the way to the guys' table. “We can make new friends.”

  As they got seated, Tianne adjusted her hair across her forehead with her left hand, displaying her wedding ring, but the guys didn't show any disappointment. “I like your earrings,” said the big guy to Nora.

  “Can we buy you two some drinks?” asked the other.

  “Just one,” Tianne said.

  “One each!” Nora said.

  One drink led to two, which gave Nora the courage to get on the dance floor. Kylie hugged her and handed her off to Bobby, who nodded and kept dancing. Nora danced with Bobby, feeling increasingly embarrassed about declaring plans to go home with him. He had a good body, and nice hands. He said he'd been hiking, which made sense, because he looked fit and outdoorsy. She could go for someone outdoorsy.

  After the song transitioned to another, the other guys joined them on the dance floor, as well as Tianne and Kylie, holding a bottle of beer while dancing. They took turns trading partners and dancing, Nora with her back to the Stairs Girls, who had abandoned their stilettos and were dancing barefoot.

  By the time last call came around, Nora was in Bobby's arms, slow dancing. She suspected he was keeping a hopeful eye on Kylie, but as soon as she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck for the dance, everybody else disappeared.

  She could tell by the way he leaned into her and then pulled back that he was thinking of more than dancing.

  “I'm really sorry the interview didn't go well,” he said into her ear. “I really did want to spend my afternoons with Nora.”

  “I thought you were much older,” she said.

  “Well, I'm not. What are you going to do about it?”

  Nora shrugged, then moved in closer and rested her cheek on his shoulder. Her corkscrew curls were, as predicted, tangled up in the silver earrings, but she didn't care. She wished the song would never end, and it wasn't even a song she liked.

  After the music ended, Nora wanted to leave immediately. She felt sparkly in her borrowed earrings and curve-hugging jeans. Bobby's arm, wrapped casually around her waist, had awoken her desire.

  The way Bobby was so casual with this friendly contact—it felt better than good; it felt like he'd gently staked her out as his own.

  “I guess it is late,” Kylie said.

  Tianne was already texting her husband, arranging which entrance he'd be picking her up at. She'd invited him to join them, but he much preferred a quiet night with his computer, and even moreso if he knew his wife was letting off some steam and enjoying herself. Nora hoped one day she'd have a stable, secure relationship like theirs, but with lots of time to enjoy it before considering kids, unlike Tianne, who'd been pregnant at their high school graduation.

  The two other men they'd been dancing with gave their phone numbers to Kylie. “I'll be sure and let you know about those extra concert tickets,” she said.

  After they left, Tianne gave her a high-five. “If I'm ever single, and I hope I'm not, you're my wing-girl.”

  Kylie doubled over, laughing. “They were so gay! Tianne, you've been married too long.”

  Tianne said, “They were awfully cute for straight guys. No offense, there, Bobby.”

  “None taken, I think,” he said, grinning.

  Nora sensed the bar's ugly lights would be coming on any second—the place had shifted in energy, so she grabbed Bobby's hand and tugged him toward the door. The others followed.

  Once outside, Bobby said, with his cute English accent, “Someone's eager to go home.”

  Nora gave him a sidelong look, trying to communicate that she was eager, indeed, but not for her home.

  Kylie flagged a taxi, which pulled up along the curb, followed by Tianne's husband in their mini-van. Nora could catch a ride with either of them.

  “It's been fun,” she said to Bobby.

  “I have my car, do you want a lift to your flat? I haven't been drinking, in case you're worried,” Bobby said.

  Kylie hopped in the taxi and closed the door behind her. Tianne was already in her mini-van, kissing her husband.

  “Well, I do need a lift, but I don't have a flat,” she said. “I live in a regular house.”

  “That'll do,” he said, offering his elbow.

  They talked on the way to his car, and their voices seemed so scratchy and raw in the night air, without the throbbing club music as score.

  On the drive to her house, they talked about her disappointing interview at the ad agency. After she'd left, he'd asked around and deduced that Sue Harding had, indeed, wanted to hire someone she knew from college, and Nora probably had been interviewed to make the process appear more above board.

  “I did put in an exceedingly good word for you,” Bobby said.

  “What was that word?” Nora asked flirtatiously as the vehicle stopped in front of her house.

  “Fascinating,” he said, reaching his hand slowly to the side of her face. “Your hair is all tangled up in your earrings, poor thing. But you are still fascinating.”

  He gently untangled one earring from her curls, and then the other. “All better,” he said, then he leaned in to kiss her.

  When his lips touched hers, she held her breath and savored his closeness. Her hands found his leg, where they rested timidly before moving up to his shoulders. He used one hand to touch her hair as they kissed, careful to run his fingers along the surface of the tight ringlets rather than get caught in them.

  When they paused for a moment, she said, “You know your way around curly hair.”

  His voice deep and husky, he said, “Are you going to invite me in?”

  “Oh, I want to.” They kissed again, hungrily.

  “I understand,” he said.

  “No, it's just… I live with my parents. This is their house.”

  “I don't live with my parents,” he said, unfastening his seat belt to shift a little closer to kiss her again. “This is nice, we're getting to know each other.”

  “No roommates?” she asked.

  “None that I know of.”

  “It's not all that late,” she said.

  “I have some wine at my flat. Or coffee. Would you like some coffee?”

  Nora put her hands back down on his muscular thighs and gave them a squeeze. “I'd like whatever you're offering.”

  “I have tea, I have the aforementioned wine, and I have fizzy things too.”

  “Drive us there now, then, before my parents come to the window wondering what fool is idling their noisy car out front.”

  “As you wish.”

  They both grinned in the darkness as he drove them to his place.

  At his parkade, they wound deeper and deeper into the ground, and Bobby backed into his parking spot with a level of skill that turned her on. The man knew how to get something into a tight spot.

  The parkade elevator wouldn't take them all the way up to his plac
e on the fifth floor, so they had to cross to a different elevator at the lobby.

  It was a gorgeous, brand-new building. The lobby had a circular geometric pattern on the floor, in black and white marble tile, and a rough-looking chandelier with welded-together gears and metal parts.

  “Don't be too impressed,” Bobby said as Nora gaped up at the metal art. “My place is quite standard by comparison. They put all the glitz up front.”

  “Like the ad agency office,” Nora said.

  When they stepped into the mirrored elevator, Nora caught a glimpse of herself in the unflattering lighting. To avoid having Bobby look at her in the light, she grabbed him by the jacket lapels and pulled him in for a kiss. By the time they reached his floor, Bobby had Nora pressed against the mirror, her butt just over the handrail. He held her hips with both hands and leaned into her, kissing her on the mouth and then on the neck and the collarbone. She ran her fingers through his soft red hair, breaking up the little spikes held together by hair product. His head smelled fresh, and being so close to him was intoxicating.

  They had just met, yet they'd been speaking on the phone a few times a week for months, because Nora was the voice for some of the agency's clients. They'd both made each other laugh, but she'd always assumed he was much older, like a father figure, and she hadn't entertained the idea of this—of all of this—happening.

  The elevator doors opened with a ding, then closed again, with them still inside. Their faces moist from shared breath and kissing, they laughed as the elevator stood still.

  “Is there a camera in here? This is how those viral videos start,” Nora said. “We have to leave the elevator, now, or I'll be talking about a certain hot elevator video Monday on the afternoon show.”

  “I like it here with you.” He grabbed a handful of her hair. “This hair! I just want to eat it up. Is that a fetish? I just want to eat you up.” He made a trail of kisses down her neck.

  At the mention of fetish, Nora had tensed up. Reality snuck in with that word. When would she tell him about her foot? Later, she decided. Not now.

  The elevator suddenly shifted without notice, and began moving. They pulled apart just before the doors opened on another floor. Bobby held her with her back against him, his arms around her waist, hiding his excitement from the new elevator passengers, but making it only more apparent to Nora. Other bodies were so warm.

  She pressed the number for his floor, and this time, they got off the elevator. Nora giggled nervously as Bobby pretended to try all his keys before finding the one for the door.

  Inside, she noted the apartment was Bachelor Chic, as expected, with black leather furniture and a large, wall-mounted television. A basket of unfolded laundry sat on the coffee table. Except for the laundry, it was quite tidy.

  Without a word, he led her to the bedroom. There she stood, her purse at her feet, as Bobby folded down the covers on the bed, revealing dark gray sheets. He turned on one of the bedside lamps and dimmed it, then pulled a small box from a drawer. “In case we need these, they're here,” he said.

  Nora took off her shoes. She was wearing thigh-high stockings under her jeans. She removed her shirt and bra. Bobby, who had already taken off his jacket and laid it across a chair, sat on the bed and slowly began unbuttoning his dress shirt.

  “Are you cold?” he asked.

  “A little,” she said, which was a lie. She was nervous about the foot, the damn foot. She didn't want to tell him. She eased down her jeans, careful to keep the stockings on. “Mind if I keep these on?” The tops of the opaque black stockings were a decorative lace, and matched her underwear.

  “I'd be delighted,” Bobby said with a huge grin. He unbuckled his belt, loosened the top of his dress pants, and patted his legs. “Come here.”

  “Can you turn the light off?”

  He fell back on the bed and clicked the lamp off. Only the light from the city filtered in through the blinds. “You have nothing to be shy about, you hot, sexy thing.”

  Nora stepped forward and climbed on the bed, on Bobby's right side, with her right leg tucked slightly back so the room-temperature silicone just under the stocking didn't contact Bobby's leg. She kissed him on the mouth as her hand explored his chest and the hair that ran down the middle of his stomach. There was enough light in the room for her to see the hair was red, like the hair on his head.

  “Does the carpet match the drapes?” she asked with a giggle.

  He rolled on his side and pulled at the seam of her underwear. “I'll show you mine if you show me yours.”

  “Okay,” she said, and she carefully removed her underwear while he pushed down his pants and then his own underwear, a pair of boxers.

  He gently pulled her toward him, and when their naked bodies made full contact from top to bottom, she shivered again, though she wasn't cold.

  Bobby murmured sweet things to her and he thickened against her hip.

  She kissed his mouth, his cheeks, his neck, and his beautiful chest. He had an athletic build, the kind of guy who looks as good out of his clothes as in them.

  Further down, his carpet did match the drapes, with the most heavenly gold-red curls nestled around his beautiful cock. She positioned herself between his legs, warm skin against skin, and she ran her tongue up the length of him, savoring the salty tang of his skin. He quivered with excitement, his manhood beading at the top of the well-defined head. She took him fully into her mouth, a tiny moan vibrating from her throat and into his body.

  “Oh, Nora, you are the most incredible girl in the whole world,” he said.

  She rolled her eyes at his corniness, but the heat in her pussy increased as he continued to sing her praises. This was nice. Perfect.

  Finally, she popped him out of her mouth and said, “More action, less talking.”

  They did not speak again for the next hour.

  In the darkness, she didn't hold back. She did everything he desired, and he did the same for her. The man had some serious talent in his tongue, his fingers, and that gorgeous cock.

  Having sex with someone she hardly knew was thrilling, though not that unusual. Of the grand total of five guys Nora had slept with, four of them had been one-time-only deals. Of those four, three had been guy friends or acquaintances in college, and one had been a professor. She hadn't regretted any of those, because she didn't want to be one of those women who marries her high school sweetheart and spends the rest of her days wondering what sex might be like with a different man. Nora had slept with men of different ages and ethnicities and body types.

  Her on-again, off-again boyfriend during her first year at college was the boy she lost her virginity to. Andrew worried he was overweight and refused to take his shirt off when they were in bed together, but he was eager to please her, and they'd experimented with each other for hours. In retrospect, they hadn't spent much time together that wasn't in bed. Crawling under the covers with cuddly Andrew was the equivalent of curling up with a good book and a pint of ice cream, only with the bonus of orgasms.

  They'd reconnected over the next few years more than a dozen times, whenever one or the other got a craving that ice cream wouldn't fix. Nora had the impression she could still call him any time, even though it had been three years, and he'd be eager to jump on a plane or train to warm her bed again. Living with her parents as she did, it would have to be in a hotel. Her parents were progressive, but they weren't that progressive.

  The last time she'd seen Andrew had been the last time she'd had sex. Andrew told her she was beautiful. No other guy had ever said that to her. They always used the word sexy, or hot.

  The professor had said Nora had a rockin' body. He wasn't that much older than the students, but she still liked to think of him as the professor, so proud was she of her one taboo-breaking night. He'd clenched his jaw and worked her like a piece of gym equipment, and while it hadn't been satisfying, it had made for a good story. Tianne had asked to hear about that sordid night, in full detail, several times.


  Nora had loved some men, but none of them overlapped with the group of men she'd slept with, though she did feel some tenderness for Andrew.

  The men she fell for were the ones all the girls went crazy for. At the side of the room, holding up the walls at every party, Nora never stood a chance with the guys who were so popular they had their choice of girls, sometimes two at once.

  That night with Bobby, she'd kept her eyes open, hungry to take in his good looks, barely visible in the dark room.

  It wasn't right to grade men, but if she did, Bobby's points would blow away everyone in Nora's bedroom history. He had a lean, muscular body, and he was confident. He moved and kissed her with such presence, as though he could imagine what his touch felt like to her, and he varied between soft caresses and animal grabs in a way that made her eagerly anticipate each second to come. By the look on his dimly-lit face—a look of rapture—she wasn't doing so bad either.

  They switched so she could be on top, and she leaned back to look at him.

  Finally, she relaxed, and her hands and body moved without thought.

  She was whole; she was complete.

  CHAPTER 3

  Nora had drifted off with her black stockings on, next to Bobby. She woke up uncomfortable and realized it was her right foot—or rather, the object attached to her residual limb—the prosthetic she never slept with. Half-asleep, she got up and retrieved her cell phone to send a quick text letting her parents know she was spending the night at a friend's. Her parents wouldn't be awoken by the text, but they'd be assured the next morning when they discovered her bed empty, and probably wouldn't call the police.

  The foot. She had to take it off, or she'd never sleep, and besides, she needed to let her skin breathe overnight. The suction fit didn't allow for a lot of airflow.

  The memory of a stupid movie popped into her head. In the film, the boy woke up with a girl and her prosthetic leg in the bed between them, for comedic effect. It was humorous, in the abstract sense, but not specifically for Nora. Bobby was a nice guy, and it wouldn't be right for her to shock him like that. She could tuck the foot under the bed, but if he ran his hands down her legs in the morning, she didn't want to see a shocked look on his face.