by Kinsley Gibb
Anabelle nodded, her eyes hidden behind oversized black sunglasses. She slid into the booth Charlie had deemed ‘theirs’ at the Tilted Kilt, their weekly Sunday brunch destination. As usual, Anabelle arrived first. She expected Charlie would straggle in later demanding coffee. Anabelle was more of a green tea kind of girl. The taste of coffee straight up was abhorrent unless she added a shameful amount of cream and sugar, hell on her waistline, but she adored the heavenly aroma of the brew.
But after countless orgasms between lunch and midnight, she was in too mellow of a mood to care. It was a wonder she could sit upright rather than slide into a puddle on the floor. As guaranteed, he’d been good, better than good, awe-inspiring.
Derek was committed as her tutor. He’d coaxed, corralled and gently bullied her into one position after another, doing things, as sheltered as she’d been, she’d never dreamed of.
But he knew what he wanted, and he’d wanted her. And good golly, he’d had her.
By midnight she’d been unable to move but she knew she couldn’t stay the night. The protocol for such a situation had escaped her. She was fairly certain Miss Manners didn’t have an article on ‘How to gracefully take leave of the man who initiated your first orgasms’.
On behalf of all the single ladies out there, Miss Manners should consider adding that chapter. There had to be others, like her, who’d decided to captain their sexual revolution rather than wait for Mr. Perfect to find them.
Was a firm handshake at the door acceptable? A friendly one-armed hug? Both options seemed tame considering he'd had his hands, lips and tongue in her lady parts.
The panic made her claim an early morning of jogging and breakfast with Charlie. The irony was Charlie once told her if Anabelle ever saw Charlie running, she should run too because something bad was behind her. Charlie’s preferred pace was more of a hip-rolling stroll. Why run, when she could walk. But Derek didn’t know that.
He’d walked her to her car a little past midnight and kissed her senseless before watching her drive off. In the rearview mirror, she’ watched his fine, shirtless form until she turned the last corner. When it was safe, she grinned and did a happy dance, a giddy mass of satisfied woman.
Her thighs clenched at what they’d done.
From his couch to his bed, he’d been thorough in his tutoring and as excelling at a given task was her forte, she’d been his star pupil.
She grinned.
Already she was eager for the next lesson. Last night, he’d been in complete control and refused to let her explore. Next time she wanted full access to his body. It was only fair. She was eager to explore his happy trail and the goods beyond.
Yes.
The beyond part was especially enticing and she wanted to test those moves Cosmo suggested. For years, she’d read articles boldly claiming how you could blow a man’s mind in five easy steps and she’d never had been allowed to test the theories. For the sake of science, she was eager to test the experiment for accuracy.
She yearned to lick and suck and--.
The clatter of dropped dishes interrupted her thoughts.
Anabelle glanced up and saw the owner fuss at a new busboy. Poor kid. Dishes were scattered around him and he hustled to clean the mess.
Anabelle strained her neck to peer over the booths. No sign of Charlie. Anabelle fanned her face. Her sexy thoughts weren’t appropriate for the Tilted Kilt where families congregated. A toddler devouring a blueberry muffin caught her eye. The redheaded imp ate with gusto, crumbs flew around haphazardly while her parents were desperate to contain the mess. She smiled at their harried expressions. The battle of two against one where the smallest one was the clear winner yet judging by the satisfied smile the little monster flashed, she enjoyed the show.
Anabelle shook her head. Bless them.
The waiter came by with two glasses of water. She knew the drill. Coffee and green tea would be delivered later.
Another search for a familiar auburn head yielded nothing so she checked her phone. No text from Charlie so she sent a ‘Where r u?’ message.
The Tilted Kilt had great blueberry pancakes and crispy bacon. She debated whether she should be good and get the veggie omelet or be bad and get what she really wanted. First world problems. Early death via an overload of sugar and possible clogged arteries or extend life by eating something boring but healthy. A waitress brought a stack of blueberry goodness to a couple one table over and she took it as a sign.
Hello Maine blueberries.
Her phone buzzed. Annabelle glanced at her phone, expecting a response from Charlie. Her heart skipped when she noted the sender.
Derek.
Better hold off on the bacon, clear arteries were necessary for the upcoming lessons.
Come by later.
For a second, she was unsure how to respond. Play it cool and wait before replying or be polite and be seen as eager and reply immediately. Mind games stunk.
She needed to stop reading self-help magazines. Instead of making clear decisions, she was paralyzed by self-doubt. Her phone buzzed.
Derek, who didn’t seem to care for mind games. Bless him.
I have something for you.
She gave in and went with the moment, ignoring the experts.
Something. Is that what they call it these days?
There was a brief pause but she saw he was typing a response.
Yep. Something really good.
She smiled and let her fingers do the flirting.
Yeah? Will it be as good as last night?
Better.
Nice. As long as I get to explore too.
You’ll get a turn eventually. Had a lot of pressure to dazzle my student with my expertise last night. Time restraint is killing me. BTW, you should reconsider that.
Being resident expert has gone to your head. Good teaching involves participation. Remember…learn one, do one, teach one.
Who are you planning to teach?
No comment.
Hmmm...Tutor believes punishment is in order for that comment alone.
Punish? Her girly parts perked. Light bondage was on her list. As long as it didn’t involve pain, she wasn’t opposed. Pain was not on her list of what she was curious about. By habit, she’d made the list late last night after she’d gotten home.
Punish how?
“Hey girl! Sorry I'm late! Parking was a bitch this morning.” Charlie breezed by and slid into the opposite booth, the delicious essence of Versace and sunshine drifted in her wake.
Anabelle dropped her phone in her purse, shoving the bag away lest Charlie saw the messages.
“No worries,” she said then cleared her throat, her voice sounded strange. She hoped Charlie hadn’t noticed.
“Hey, are you okay? Your face is red.”
Her purse buzzed and Anabelle ignored it.
“I’m fine.” Liar, liar. She was hot and horny and didn’t that beat all. Anabelle. Hot. Horny. In the same sentence. She fanned her face and tried to control herself.
“You look flushed. You’re not getting sick are you?” Charlie reached to feel her forehead but Anabelle batted her hands away.
“No. I feel fine.” Better than fine. She hadn’t felt this fine in a long time. Maybe never. Thank you, Derek.
Again, her purse buzzed but she didn’t look at the thing, she should have put in on silent mode. Another buzz. Still she didn’t look.
“You gonna check that?”
“Hmmm? It’s probably nothing important.” She took a sip of water and set the glass down harder than she’d intended and water sloshed over the edge. She cleaned the mess with two cocktail napkins, conscious of Charlie’s speculative gaze.
“Really? You seem nervous this morning, Anabelle. Anything I should know? Maybe about your lunch date with Derek? Hmmmm?” Before Charlie continued with the Spanish inquisition, their waitress interrupted for their order. She ordered the blueberry pancakes but substituted tofu bacon instead of real bacon. She needed fully function
ing arteries for the next month.
While Charlie contemplated her order, Anabelle busied herself with the cutlery, arranging and polishing them with a straw full of water and a napkin, hoping she’d been granted a reprieve. She channeled her best nonchalant look as Charlie completed her order and the waitress walked away.
“Confess.”
“What?” She widened her eyes and met Charlie’s stare.
“See, there’s where you went wrong. That wide eyed look is your tell, Anabelle.” Charlie crossed her arms over her chest leveling Anabelle her infamous don’t mess with me look.
“Why aren’t you a lawyer, Charlie? You could do some real good for society. Criminals would quiver in your presence.”
“Stop hedging.”
“Bakers are supposed to be soft and fluffy.”
Charlie shrugged. “Sue me.”
The phone buzzed again. She flushed but stared back into familiar hazel eyes. Confess nothing. Keep calm and fib on.
Charlie smiled, nodding to the buzzing purse, she changed her tone to a coaxing one. “Why don’t you go ahead and check your phone Anabelle. You know you’re dying to read the messages. Besides, I think the phone and your flushed face are somehow connected.”
“You need to stop watching Rizzoli and Isles.”
“Hey, don’t knock the crime shows when you know you love it too. Solving murders is one of my hobbies just like painting is one of yours.”
“You’re demented, you know that, don’t you?”
“Maybe, but you love me.”
“True.”
“A-na-belle.” Bad cop and good cop Charlie had left the premises, and a juvenile Charlie bounced in her place. “You know you can’t keep a secret from me.”
She hadn’t yet but there was a first time for everything.
“I feel the need to warn you, I’m ten seconds from lunging across the table.”
“Jeez, woman, I give.” She pulled the phone out and slammed it on the table.
Twenty lashes with my tongue if you’re good. More if you’re very good.
Bring your swimsuit.
Or not.
Nude sunbathing would be fun.
Bring a change of clothes too.
We can have dinner and watch the parade from my balcony.
“Heavens.”
“Holy shit!”
They said at the same time, one louder than the other and drew stares.
“Seriously, are you sexting? And with Derek?”
One of Charlie’s talents was reading upside down. Why did she bother keeping anything from Charlie?
Charlie hooted and several patrons eyed them. “Will you hush?” The urge to hide under the table was strong. Instead Anabelle shoved her phone back into her bag without responding.
“You cougar.” Charlie winked and Anabelle groaned. “Text him back. Don’t leave him hanging.” Charlie waggled her eyebrows, grinning. Her friend had an evil sense of humor and had been put on earth to torture Anabelle.
“This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you,” she said, hating the petulant tone in her voice, but obeyed.
Sounds good. See you then. Got to go.
“That was cold. No sweet nothings?”
Charlie barked in laughter at the death glare Anabelle sent.
“I’m joking, sweetie.” She leaned over to embrace Anabelle. “Let’s celebrate! It’s not every day my best friend gets some.” Charlie danced in her seat to music only she heard. Anabelle shook her head. It was hard to stay mad at her. “Now spill. How was it?”
Faced with Charlie’s all knowing eyes, Anabelle breathed, “Incredible.”
“Very nice. I’m happy for you.”
“Hmmm. It’s not going to last.”
Charlie shrugged, her smile fading. She knew Anabelle’s history better than anyone. “Maybe, maybe not. There aren’t any guarantees Anabelle, you know that. But sometimes you’ve got to try new things because if you don’t, you’ll keep doing the same thing over and over until you wither away never knowing anything else.”
Charlie had been there through her dad’s death and she witnessed the devastation. In an instant, Anabelle’s mother had gone from a relatively happy person to Cruella de Ville, ready to crush all things cute. She’d closed herself away from everyone including her own daughter.
“You’re detail oriented, can plan and organize things to death so this unknown scares you. It’s beyond anything you’ve ever done, which makes it scary as hell.”
Anabelle nodded. No argument there.
“Have fun, Anabelle. Derek’s a good guy. Live in the moment and promise me you won’t overthink this to death. Give the poor guy a real chance.”
Anabelle hesitated, not wanting to confess she’d put a time limit into play. Charlie thought Anabelle was being brave. She didn’t want to destroy her friend’s illusions and admit she was using Derek for his body. It didn’t sound honorable.
“Be kind.” Charlie winked. “For a year now, he’s been eating you up with his eyes, it’s nice you’re putting him out of his misery.”
“He does not.”
“Says you.”
“I mentioned before you were delusional.”
“I’ve got eyes.”
Anabelle smile was weak. She felt like a fraud. She wasn’t brave at all but did she want to cancel the experiment completely?
Derek moved the cushion to the left.
Nope.
He turned it diagonal.
Nope.
Looked a little off.
Dammit.
The fact that he was acting like a pansy ass hadn’t escaped him and Dani would keel over from gut busting laughter if she saw him now. He considered chucking the pillow into his nieces tent but Anabelle noticed these things, so he moved it again and walked away.
If he fussed anymore, he’d have to turn in his man card. He shook his head. He was like an adolescent boy with his first crush.
Un-fucking-believable.
His best friend, Joe, would never let him live it down. Joe and Dani seldom got along, but in dishing about his so-called crush on Anabelle, the two of them tag teamed in razing him. No need to provide further ammunition.
He checked his watch. Almost time. Last night had been beyond his fantasies. And today…he could barely stand the wait. He needed to be careful not to make her nervous. He wasn’t sure what had spooked her last night, but she’d been in flight mode and he’d had no choice but to let her go.
He couldn’t stand the hesitant look in her eyes and cursed her ex for putting it there. She was confident in business matters, but anything personal and she was cautious, as if she weren’t certain at all.
The terms she’d set was a surprise; it was as if she needed the constraint so she could compartmentalize him by limiting their time together. He planned to change that as soon as possible. There was no way a month would be enough time for them to burn through this thing. He wasn’t sure how long they needed, but he knew for damn sure, it would take longer than a month.
He’d had relationships before, both short and long term. But Anabelle was different from his usual type. She was more fragile. Usually he went with good time girls who were up front about what they wanted, which was usually the same as what he wanted. Nothing complicated.
Anabelle was complication personified. The first thing he’d noticed about Anabelle was her smoking hot body. No surprise there. He was a guy and it was a visual thing. Maybe it had something to do with those old movies his sister, Dylan, watched when she babysat him. Back then, only the classic movie station worked and his sister had a thing for old school romances. If it had rained outside, he’d been stuck watching them and in Seattle it rained a lot.
Anabelle had the kind of body and style straight out of the pin-up era, soft curves, a nipped waist and an elegant, classic style. But her eyes…there were something about them that sort of zapped him when he’d first met her, much to Dani’s delight.
Over the following months, he�
�d had the usual fantasies about her fine form, but she ignored him, preferring to look away or change the subject, and refocus on business. But her fragility intrigued him, and so she became his studied subject.
He noticed her gaze sort of dashed around him, then on him, then away as if she wanted to look but didn’t dare. She was well liked by her subs, she was good at what she did but was highly reserved. Every once in a while a sad look would appear in her eyes. It didn’t happen often, but he was trained to spot minute details and caught it.
He also knew she preferred water to soda, chocolate chips cookies over oatmeal raisins, had a mild allergy to peanuts and adored toasted coconut cupcakes. A particularly painful episode came to mind of watching her devour one on Dani’s birthday surprise he’d brought in. The sight and sound of her moaning, as if in the throes of an orgasm, had stayed in his head and fucked up his concentration for the rest of the day. She’d left him with a hard on and no way of relieving it.
Christ. He had it bad.
There were no guarantees he’d learned. Watching his sister’s struggle had reiterated that unfortunate fact. An asshole who thought texting and driving was smart ended up t-boning his brother-in-law, taking away a husband and father in an instant.
No fucking guarantees.
Since Dylan had settle on a farmhouse in Sugar Bay, he’d packed his belongings and moved south to help. There hadn’t been anything to debate. Seattle had year round sporting action, temperate weather and great food but Florida had his sisters and three nieces.
The fact that he’d traded in snow bunnies for stacked blondes of the plastic variety wasn’t lost on him. Now life consisted of endless rounds of dressing Barbies, driving to activities and keeping up with whatever boy bands his niece deemed as “in”.
He personally thought his sister was a rock star the way she juggled the demands of the girls and school. He knew Kurt’s life insurance took care of the mortgage but Dylan was trying to finish her degree. His sister had skills but he knew the concentrated pursuit was therapeutic.