“No?" Andrea was close to whining.
“I guarantee it.”
“Is that possible?”
He shrugged.
“But can’t he just be secretly pining for me forever?”
A crease appeared in his forehead. “I don’t think I’d use the same word.”
“Pining? Secretly? Forever?”
“Andrea, he chose in such a way that if he were ever to act on an urge to fuck you, it would cause a lot of trouble. The simpler explanation is, he just doesn’t want to fuck you all that much.”
“Thank you,” she said sarcastically, “for trivializing my pain with that summary. Ouch.”
And yet he was amused by this, and he leaned back, crossing his arms. He was done with his second steak, and was already picking at her second plate of oysters. “You shouldn’t be offended by it. Many men don’t know a good thing when they see it.”
She snorted. “Unlike you?”
“Tell me what you did to scare him off.”
Andrea almost refused to. For a long time she didn’t talk about it, not even to her sister, and to this day Julie was respecting that with her refusal to ask. It was a weekend in particular. Andrea left one way, and came back another.
“I surprised him with a vacation trip,” she said. “Two days. Hiking then diving. It seemed like we were finally in the right place and time together, you know? Both single, finally…anyway. I made the move on him, so to speak.”
“He said no?”
She flinched. “Not even. He said yes. We spent the entire weekend screwing. No diving got done. Or another kind.”
“This is a problem?”
“On the drive back, he told me it was a mistake, and that we shouldn’t do it again.” She managed to say that with a straight face, and without breaking down completely. One sign of progress. “How does that happen, Damon? How do you explain that?”
But he didn’t say anything. Not about that, anyway.
“Let’s go get dessert,” he said.
***
He had forgotten that Geraldine loved tiramisu, and had been talking to Andrea throughout the walk that he didn’t notice who would be there by the time they stepped onto the raised wooden platform that held the dessert station.
“Dames,” Geraldine said, that nickname she made up and called him very rarely. In fact, only when they were together, in private. What the hell was that about. In any case she was saying it now, in front of Andrea. “You’re not at our table?”
“No,” he told her. “Looks like my plans for the night have changed.”
Geraldine remained stoic, and if her booty call got derailed, she didn’t seem to be disappointed.
This, he wanted to tell Andrea, then and there. This. Two fucking years of this. I don’t get it.
Andrea was watching this exchange and the array of pastries at the same time.
“This is Andrea Crisostomo,” Damon said, placing a hand on Andrea’s back before he realized it. Her skin was soft as he imagined, and also cooler, and she jumped slightly at the touch. “Geraldine Javier.”
“Sister of the bride.” Andrea’s recovery was quick, and she beamed at the woman in front of her. Seeing them face each other made him question how he had described Geraldine to Andrea earlier that evening. She was not, after all, as perfect as he must have led Andrea to believe. Not that her beauty had diminished within hours of first seeing her, no. Maybe it was in this light, but she seemed less flawless.
Beside Andrea.
“Friend of the groom,” Geraldine responded, with a tentative handshake. “And of Dames.”
“Lucky,” Andrea said, and he felt movement on his suit jacket. Her fingers, moving lazily against the collar. “Damon’s done a great job entertaining me tonight.”
“You don’t have a date?” Geraldine asked. “That’s too bad.”
That remark was meant to sting. Geraldine couldn’t have known why Andrea hated weddings, but Damon was sure that the snide reminder was unnecessary.
“Here,” he said, taking a slice of cake from the porcelain display tower, and handing Andrea what looked like a bowl of fruit salad. “Let’s head back. I don’t want to miss the speeches.”
“Let’s catch up later, okay?” Geraldine said, casually, as they started walking away.
He half nodded, half shrugged, and completely, actually, didn’t care.
***
Andrea decided that she did not envy Geraldine after all. Damon obviously knew he could have anyone, but he got off on thawing frosty bitches. Whatever floated his boat. Messy history between them aside, his presence was making her less miserable on this special day.
And then later, he had her panting, when he grabbed her hand and got her out of the table just when the annoying games for the single girls and guys were about to start.
They ran up to the gazebo, getting there through a winding rocky staircase that very nearly broke her shoe and sprained her ankle. He insisted that they press on though, wrapping an arm around her waist when her legs wobbled in her tall shoes. When they got up there she forgave the stairs, and him, because it was far enough from the reception area and no one would bother to go after them.
And the view from up there was spectacular.
It was late in the evening and the sea was invisible, blending into the sky, but seeing the twenty tables, the stage, and the trees glittering in shades of blue and purple below was… she almost felt good about it.
She was happy for this diversion too, because she didn't want her family to see her cry. Anton, her new brother-in-law, just gave a speech that had even the catering people reach for tissues. She wanted to stay strong even just to prove to herself that she wasn't affected by this, but damn.
She wanted that kind of love, and devotion. Maybe someday.
Or she'd just be the nasty aunt to their kids forever.
“You should be up here with someone you actually want,” Andrea said to Damon, and then caught on to her own tone. “I didn’t mean to sound sad."
He had been watching her take this all in. There were eight wooden posts holding up the roof over their heads, and he had his back against the one farthest from her. He tilted his jaw, motioning her to come closer.
"That was some speech," Damon said. "Everyone's feeling shitty about their miserable lives, compared to that."
"I didn't see you cry."
"My mind is somewhere else."
"Look at this view though. This is the kind of thing that gets a guy laid.”
“Suppose I already did that,” he said. “Brought here someone I want. What would we be doing?”
Her feet moved, until the fluttering of her skirt grazed his knee.
“She’d be standing a little closer,” she said.
He nodded. “Of course she would be. In fact, I would be concerned about how she’s feeling right now. Like how cold it is.”
“You have a coat,” Andrea pointed out. “You could offer it.”
“Or I could use this move I have,” Damon said.
And then, a sudden stamp of warmth on her bare back, again. It was just one hand but the span was impressive; she felt enveloped in something.
“I like your hand. That move,” she managed to say. It was simple, but genius. “She’s really going to like that.”
“It only works on this kind of dress though,” he said, fingers sliding inside, confidently, and lower. Her breath was—it stopped. She stopped breathing. She risked fainting so she could keep perfectly still, and know where his fingers were going next.
They dipped just below her waist, slipping underneath where the skirt of her gown began.
“You’re not shaking at all,” she whispered. “No hesitation.”
“I’m not hesitating.”
She wanted her hands on him somewhere. How could she not. Her right hand landed gently on his chest, somewhere between his heart and the third button of his shirt, and the hard skin underneath expanded with his sharp breath.
An
d throughout this he didn’t take those eyes off her. Geraldine was resisting this every day how? Was she actually a robot?
“Are you cold?” he said.
“I’m not,” she replied, before she thought of a better answer.
He thought of the better answer. “Let’s say you are, anyway. Cold.”
And then it all fell into place for her, with that last word, what was it about Damon that was keeping her riveted: He knew what he was doing.
“All right, let’s say I am.”
“Is my hand warm enough for you?”
His hand was warm but obviously not enough. Andrea was in fact slightly annoyed that it had stopped moving, inside her dress. “No.”
“Where else do you want to touch me, Andrea?”
“I’m wondering what your hair feels like.”
“You’re free to find out.”
“Am I.” Her other hand made it up there, but not without making a trail through an arm, doing a detour around his neck, and then up his nape and into the thick, surprisingly soft…
Oh god. It was the kind of hair she’d grab onto by the fistful. And then she kind of did, just a little. If nothing else had been an opening move, that was as good as any, and with a smooth nudge her body was pressed against all of Damon.
Aroused Damon.
“That feels fucking good,” he said.
His hand, the one inside her dress, dipped lower, found a more secure hold in the curve that it discovered underneath. She moved, or he moved her, or they moved together, and the accidental on purpose friction made her gasp.
And Damon continued to hold her in place, right where she could so easily…
“Don’t say ‘fucking,’” she said, and it sounded like she was pleading. “You’re, um, not shy.”
“No one else is here.”
“We’re in full view of a wedding reception with two hundred guests.”
“They’re busy and none of them are looking this way, Andrea. They’ll think we’re just dancing.” He nudged his hips down, and up, ever so slightly, his erection not at all misrepresented by his trousers. He felt so good.
She couldn’t remember thinking that way about anyone before. Or thinking that way, period.
“I’m not in the mood to dance, Damon.”
Down, and up, but this time his hand had gone up her back again and the pressure on either side made the surge of pleasure a little more intense. “Oh god.”
“What are you in the mood for, Andrea?”
I want to be with someone who knows what he’s doing. Right here and now.
“You know we can’t.”
He paused, but didn’t move away. She felt the light brush of his lips on her forehead. “You’re confusing can’t and shouldn’t.”
What? No. And whatever.
“Make it good for you, Andrea.”
“What?”
“What you want. Take it. Trust me.” Three lazy thrusts, every single one burning through the layers of clothing between them, and her resolve.
A moment later and both her hands were in his hair, and she braced herself up against him, knowing just how she could “make it good” for herself. She was so close already. It wasn’t going to take much.
So right there, in the gazebo, just a few feet away from the dancing and revelry of an actual wedding, she made the choice. First it was gentle, and then not so gentle, how she circled her hips against Damon Esquibel, officemate of the groom. And as she did it she found herself letting go of feelings that had been plaguing her, because once you choose to get yourself off in a semi-public place, you forfeit a percentage of your shame, and maybe that was what she needed to do.
Shame, begone.
The orgasm that awaited her felt like a fireworks display set off too soon, and angled up too high. Damon captured what might have been her scream in his mouth, the kiss holding her steady, until the sparks traveled down to the tips of her toes and her lips lazily nipped at his.
“Andrea?” she heard him say, against her mouth, when it was all over.
“Um. Yeah.”
“You okay?”
“Yes.” Understatement. She felt like two walls inside her head were knocked down. She wanted to fly. And more silly thoughts. “But you didn’t—You haven’t—” She cleared her throat, trying to remember what was supposed to happen next. And they were still fully clothed.
“You’re welcome.” Tenderly, maybe, he straightened the strap on her shoulder. “It’s not about reciprocating.”
“But—”
“You look beautiful. If he saw you like this and hurt you, he’s just an idiot.”
It was a compliment she was willing to accept, except she wasn’t sure it was the same thing. She felt different. Like she came in a totally different way. Also, she was not making sense.
“Well, Geraldine’s missing out on a stellar experience. Would definitely recommend it.”
Yeah, not making sense.
He smiled. “She hasn’t tried it. She can’t miss it then.”
His words were barely registering because her entire body was still happily buzzing, and leaning into him became necessary to stay upright.
***
“He’s staying over at the guest pavilion. I can find his room number for you if you want it.”
“What?”
She didn’t get to tell Daphne much. In fact she was barely in the conversation she and Daphne were having, because she was still on a cloud somewhere. She said something about kissing him, and she wasn’t sure if Daphne could tell that her dazed demeanor wasn’t the result of just a kiss.
But Andrea didn’t know Damon was staying over at the seaside resort. Because they didn’t talk much, after. She kind of got frazzled, and wasn’t sure how to say goodbye, so she just stumbled out of the gazebo. Nice. Very mature and classy.
Her mouth was still hanging open, wordlessly, as Daphne unlocked her phone and started scrolling through something. “Damon Esquibel. Solo room, Gardenia 3.”
“I don’t know about this, Daphne,” she said, her voice unnaturally high.
“It’s too far to walk in those shoes, so I can have one of the guys take you in a golf cart.”
“That’s not necessary…”
“Hey.”
Andrea felt a hand, cool from beer can condensation, on her wrist, and it almost helped her focus. It got her to zero in on the face in front of her, instead of the one she was looking at in her head. “Um, sorry. I’m so not here right now.”
“I can see that. I’m going to give you a little push right now, just like I did for your sister when we first met. Do you know that story?”
If Andrea did, she couldn’t recall it right then. Along with other things, like her middle name, her ATM PIN…
Daphne smiled slyly. “I told her not to quit until she sees where this leads.”
“Huh?”
“Say it. I will not quit until I see where this leads.”
“I will not quit...this sounds silly—”
“Until what, Andrea?”
Right then the breeze picked up, and Andrea felt it tug at her hair and her dress.
“Until I see where this leads,” she said, obediently, to herself.
***
Now that was interesting, Damon thought, still trying to figure out what just happened.
He stopped by the mini bar atop the refrigerator in the resort hotel room before anywhere else, and eyed the selection. He was thirsty. Also horny, but he was not going to do anything about it just yet. He tugged at his tie until his neck was free from it.
There was a small bottle of rum. He went for that.
It was almost one a.m. Still early. If he tried hard enough, he’d be able to put the night back on track, and get Geraldine into this room as planned. He thought he almost had it in the bag. Damon’s mind worked this way, because he had always been about a slow and steady chase. He'd been that way all his life, and with most things about it—career, money, and women. But then Andrea—<
br />
Just remembering her and how she came apart so spectacularly against him gave the turning wheels in his head a jolt.
There was a soft knock on his door, just then. He was halfway there when it creaked open.
“It’s not locked,” Andrea said, already inside, and actually curious. “Were you expecting somebody?”
***
They talked for about a minute.
“I don’t normally do this,” she said.
“You’re making an exception for me then? I’m honored,” he said.
“I also want to let you know that I’m sure you’re an intelligent, responsible person, based on the few hours that I’ve known you.”
“I don’t think you can ever be sure of that.”
She shrugged, an adorable shake that tilted her body more to one side. “Oh I just said that so you don’t feel I’m just here because you’re hot.”
He laughed and pulled her to him, crushing her mouth under his. The beginnings of a giggle smothered in it, became a moan as he pushed deeper with his tongue. He felt her fingers fumble for his buttons and he let her do the work of taking his clothing off; she seemed to like it. Fingertips lingered at the buttons, and then slipped underneath, taking stock of the lines that went down his abdomen.
“You work out,” she moaned. “I hate you.”
“Are you complaining?”
“I will be if you’re bad at this. I’m kind of expecting the night of my life right now.”
Oh he was ready to give her one. He’d raise the bar for any guy who dared touch her, he told himself, and hungrily went for her neck.
“Wait,” she said, “I know you said no reciprocating but I don’t feel right about taking and not giving back.”
He felt his belt buckle being pulled toward her. In a moment that was gone, thrown somewhere into the room, and she peeled the rest of his clothing off him, all the while remaining in her dress.
Not fair, he started to think, until warm hands wrapped around the part of him that ached for her. The intensity of how his body reacted to her surprised him, but he was all wound up from their private dance earlier. He growled and tried to back them onto the bed, but she pulled at his arm to keep them from falling on it.
Wedding Night Stand: A Chic Manila short story Page 2