Take Me

by Anna Zaires, Pepper Winters, Skye Warren, Lynda Chance, Pam Godwin, Amber Lin

  She pulled the box out from behind the seat and followed me up to my apartment.

  “I didn’t have you pegged as the gift-giving type,” Bridgett said as she sat down on the couch with the box in her hands.

  “Just open it,” I said as I rolled my eyes.

  Bridgett’s eyes opened wide as she stared into the box with the Armani name on the lid. The sleek dress inside of it was deep purple, matched my tie exactly, and had a black, wool shawl to go with it so she would stay warm. There was also a pair of black heels with straps that would go around her ankles. They weren’t too high, so she could still walk comfortably, but they were sexy as hell.

  “Put it all on,” I told her. “We’re going out to dinner.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Of course I am.”

  She looked back to the box and slowly pulled out the dress.

  “It looks like the right size,” she commented.

  “It is the right size,” I said.

  She looked up at me for a moment but didn’t say anything else. Her eyes went back to the dress and then the shawl below it.

  “This, too?” Bridgett asked as she held it up.

  “Of course,” I said. “That fucking rodent in Pennsylvania might have thought spring was coming, but he’s an idiot. It’s cold out there, and I don’t want you to freeze your ass off. I have plans for it later.”

  I raised my eyebrows at her, and she shook her head at me. Moving up behind her, I wrapped my arms around her waist.

  “I’m taking you for a night on the town – dinner, drinks, shopping – everything. You go get yourself ready.”

  I smacked her ass with the palm of my hand, and she shrieked as she ran to change in the bedroom. I leaned against the kitchen counter and sipped from a bottle of flavored water, which didn’t taste too bad. Jonathan had been going on about them lately, so I had finally given them a shot. They were all full of vitamins instead of sugar, so they had to be better for you than a soda.

  Bridgett came out of the bedroom looking like she belonged on the television as a fucking fashion show celebrity. I had to admit that I had done a great job picking out the dress – it fit her perfectly – but the rest was all her. Round ass, long legs, face cleaned off of whore paint and just lightly made-up. She was all looks.

  “Beautiful.”

  She blushed.

  For dinner, we went to the restaurant on the other side of the little park behind my apartment building. It was a nice steak place, cozy and quiet enough that Bridgett didn’t seem to be overwhelmed or anything. Once we were done with our meal, I wrapped the shawl back around her shoulders and walked her out the front and over to Millennium Park.

  She started laughing immediately.

  “It is a giant bean!” she squealed.

  I couldn’t help but smile. I also couldn’t explain why I loved the sculpture. Sure, there were a lot of people who considered it more comical than artistic, but I thought it was absolutely brilliant.

  And shiny.

  I took a picture of our reflections in the polished silver with my phone before we walked back towards my building. I held her hand and helped her down the long staircase on the east side of the park, then across the sidewalk and into the parking garage.

  “We’re not going upstairs?” Bridgett asked.

  “Not yet,” I said. “We’re going to the Magnificent Mile.”

  I led her over to my parking areas but steered her away from the car she was used to being in.

  “This is your car?” Bridgett’s eyes widened as she examined the exterior of the Audi R8.

  “Shut up and get in,” I replied with a smile.

  It wasn’t quite warm enough to put the top down, but it was still a nicer ride than the Mazda for the kinds of places we were going. I drove in silence across the Michigan Avenue Bridge and up north towards all the best shops. Bridgett just stared out the window at the people going by, most of whom were looking over at us. Once I got to the general center of the area, I pulled off in front of a hotel and let the valet take the car.

  “Checking in, sir?”

  “No, just shopping,” I replied as I handed him some cash.

  “Very good, sir.”

  I took Bridgett’s hand again as she stepped out of the car and then escorted her across the street and up the sidewalk to one of the shops. I held out my hand to allow her to enter first.

  “Evan, what are you doing?”

  “Taking you shopping on the Magnificent Mile,” I informed her. “Once we’ve hit the highlights, we’ll have drinks at one of my favorite bars. It’s got a great view of Michigan Avenue.”

  “You can’t be serious,” she said quietly. “You aren’t going to buy anything here. The dress I can understand for the place we had dinner, but …”

  Her voice trailed off, and I just gave her a half smile as I grabbed her waist and shoved her through the revolving doors and into Tiffany and Co’s.

  The thing I found most noticeable about the store was just how sparkly everything was. It was like walking into a place full of tiny little disco balls – there were rainbows everywhere. I thought that chick who wrote about the sparkly vampires must have gotten the idea by standing in the Tiffany’s store and staring at the diamonds.

  I had a feeling Bridgett wasn’t going to just pick something out for herself, so I already had something in mind. I led her to the back where all the charms were kept.

  “Mister Arden?” A tall, lean blonde walked around the counter and held out her hand.

  “Hello,” I replied. I reached out and shook the salesperson’s hand. She smiled at Bridgett before leading us around to the back counter. She brought over a velvet box and opened it up as I watched Bridgett’s expression go from curiosity, to surprise, to bemusement.

  “That’s a gold bean, isn’t it?” she asked.

  “It is,” I said with a smile. “Rose gold with earrings to match.”

  The salesperson held Bridgett’s hand and slipped the gold chain around her wrist. The bracelet included a rose gold bean as well as a traditional Tiffany’s padlock charm.

  “Beautiful,” the salesperson said as she affixed the charm around Bridgett’s wrist. It jingled as she moved, and when she turned her wrist slightly, the charms sparkled in the store’s lights.

  “Evan…” Bridgett’s voice evaporated again, and her eyes started to brim over with tears.

  “Stop that,” I said quietly. I took my finger and placed it under her chin. “You deserve a night on the town after putting up with me for all that time when I was sick, and I’m going to make sure your night is perfect. This is just a little memento of the evening.”

  “It’s hardly a little thing,” she argued. “This is…”

  She glanced over at the salesperson, but she was now ringing up the bill and a bit out of earshot. Bridgett lowered her voice anyway.

  “This is more than you would pay for me for a whole week,” she said.

  “So?”

  I ignored her remaining protests, took her by the hand, and led her back out onto the street. We stopped at a few more stores but mostly just window-shopped. I pointed out the window of the Armani place where I had acquired Bridgett’s dress – she hadn’t known Armani catered to women as well – but we didn’t go inside. I wasn’t in need of a new suit just yet and probably wouldn’t need one until Moretti’s daughter got hitched or something. Then I’d come get one.

  Ice cream at Ghirardelli’s Chocolate and a quick carriage ride down a few blocks to my favorite drinking establishment came next.

  The 676 Restaurant and Bar was just a block down from the famous Tiffany’s jewelry store and in the same building as the Omni Hotel. I helped Bridgett dodge the drunks and other pedestrians as we made our way into the building. The downstairs was your usual hotel stuff – front desk, concierge, bellhops – but upstairs there was a small restaurant and bar that mostly catered to the hotel’s guests.

  I wasn’t sure what was better – the fo
od, the drinks, or the banter between the staff.

  “This place is…nice,” Bridgett said softly.

  “Good service, too,” I informed her. “They have the best martinis in the city. You like martinis, right?”

  “Sure, I guess.”

  Her hesitation caused me to stop in front of the elevator and take her by the elbow.

  “It’s okay?” I asked. I had no idea why I was feeling suddenly hesitant. I hadn’t been to 676 for a while, but I was there enough in the past to be considered as much of a regular as anyone was. I’d never actually taken a girl up there with me, though. I’d taken a couple away – or at least as far as their hotel rooms upstairs – but never brought one in with me.

  “Whatever you like,” Bridgett responded.

  I scowled at her lack of answer, which seemed to make her smile. Her hand reached up and touched the side of my face.

  “It’s fine,” she said.

  I leaned over and placed my lips against hers.

  “You’ll love it,” I swore to her.

  I took her up the elevator to the fourth floor and held her hand as we walked into the bar area. I recognized almost everyone there immediately and was glad to see familiar faces. Michele was tending bar, and Patrick was managing. They were an interesting duo – and just watching the two of them interact was worth the price of the drinks.

  The drinks were damn good, too.

  “What do you want?” Bridgett said. “A beer or something?”

  “No,” I said, “definitely not. Do you like raspberries?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Hey, Michele!”

  The bartender smiled and waltzed over to me. Her dangling silver hoop earrings danced around on her shoulders as she moved, and her mahogany hair swung back and forth in a high ponytail. She had on basic black from head to toe, like pretty much every bartender there, and her smile earned her a lot of big tips.

  “Hey there, Evan,” she said with that award-winning smile. “What can I get for you?”

  “Give me one of those raspberry martinis you make,” I said, “and Lagavulin, neat.”

  “Who’s this?” she asked with a sly grin as she started to make the drinks.

  “Michele, this is Bridgett,” I said. They both smiled at each other. “Bridgett, this is Michele with one ‘L.’”

  “Don’t forget it!” Michele laughed and nodded her head, which caused her ponytail to bounce around. She reached up on a high shelf to retrieve my scotch and then moved farther down the bar to gather the ingredients for the martini quickly and efficiently.

  “You really are going all out here, aren’t you?” Bridgett commented as Michele set our drinks in front of us.

  “I figured after last week, you kinda deserved it,” I said with a shrug. “A night on the town is the least I can do to make up for a night with me sick as a dog.”

  “Four nights,” she reminded me.

  “Right.”

  I sipped my scotch and watched her take in the surroundings. It was a nice place – posh, in the heart of the Magnificent Mile, and with a good view of Michigan Avenue. Michele exhibited her usual rockin’ service and seemed to be going the extra mile to be nice to Bridgett, even if she did keep glancing at me sideways. The way she raised her eyebrows, I wondered if she suspected Bridgett’s occupation. Not that it mattered to me – I didn’t give a shit what she thought of my date.

  Patrick stopped by and placed his hand on my shoulder.

  “Good to see you again, Evan!” he said with a big Doogie Howser smile. “Haven’t seen you in ages!”

  “Been busy,” I replied. My eyes bore into his. “I’ve been working a lot lately.”

  Patrick removed his hand, cleared his throat, and gave me another managerial smile.

  “Make sure you treat this guy well, Michele!”

  She gave him a “thumbs up” as she went back to mixing drinks for a couple farther down the bar.

  I tried not to watch Michele too much. She was hot – no doubt about it – but she was also married. Not that I gave a shit; I didn’t. I did actually have some scruples, just not in that particular area. However, she had turned me down every time I came on to her over the past year since I first found the place, so I had given up. Still, I liked watching her work, but I had to make sure I wasn’t paying too much attention to her shakin’ and stirrin’.

  I ordered a PB&J waffle, and Bridgett just stared at me like I was nuts.

  “I’ll give you a bite,” I promised her. “You won’t regret it.”

  “I already do,” she stated.

  Michele brought out another round of drinks and rolled her eyes at me once she got a good look at Bridgett, which confirmed my suspicions. I wasn’t sure how she knew, but I could tell by her expression that she understood the situation. I gave her the evil eye back – the last thing I needed was someone who served me drinks judging me for the quality of my date.

  Thankfully, Bridgett didn’t seem to notice, not that I cared what Michele or anyone else thought about me or my date. However, this was supposed to be a nice night for Bridgett, and I didn’t want something stupid to ruin it. So far, everything had been perfect.

  “These drinks really are fantastic!” Bridgett said as she sipped the fruity martini.

  “All of the drinks here are great,” I told her. “They have awesome food, too.”

  We ordered a couple more drinks, and as crowds rolled in, the manager tried to help out at the bar. He scratched his head, stared at the rows of bottles on the shelf, and looked lost.

  It was kind of like cabaret.

  “You put cranberries in it, right?” he asked.

  “It’s a raspberry martini,” Michele replied, “so you put raspberries in it.”

  “Got it.” Patrick looked around the bar, then under it. “Umm…where are they?”

  “You need a glass,” Michele informed him. She pulled four beers and placed them neatly on a tray before walking off.

  “Do you know what vodka Michele was using?” Patrick asked me as he held up two bottles.

  “The good shit,” I replied, which made Bridgett giggle.

  He put both bottles back and grabbed a tall bottle of Grey Goose.

  “You have no idea what you’re doing,” Michele mumbled as she came back and took the shaker from him.

  The drinks were made, and the banter continued.

  “Did you need a glass, George?”

  “You have to pour it in the mouth!”

  “This shirt keeps coming un-tucked – I look like a total loser.”

  “You are a total loser.”

  “You can’t talk to me like that!”

  “So, where can I go to find a hooker?”

  Maybe the patron thought he was being quiet or subtle, but he wasn’t. The concierge chuckled and rubbed the spot between his eyes, which made his glasses bounce up and down on his face. I glanced over at Bridgett, who had obviously heard the guy’s question. She wrapped her fingers around the edge of her new drink and stared at the floating fruit.

  I reached over and placed the end of my finger under her chin to turn her towards me. For a long moment, we just looked at each other, and then I leaned in to press my lips against hers. My tongue tasted the raspberry drink as it reached into her mouth.

  I tilted my head and kissed her again.

  And again.

  Her fingers gripped my arm through my suit jacket as she pressed harder against me. When we parted, her eyes were glassy and her chest rose and fell with her breaths. I couldn’t help but smile a bit at her expression, which seemed to cause her to blush.

  She was a fucking sexy sight.

  One of the other patrons noticed her, too, but one glare from me and he kept his eyes to himself.

  “You are beautiful tonight,” I whispered.

  Before she could respond, the manager walked behind me, grumbling.

  “I hate it when people wave their hand at me,” Patrick mumbled under his breath. “What does she want m
e to do, jump over and serve her a drink?”

  I glanced at the overweight woman with her hair up in a bun. She was waving frantically from one of the window-side tables. Patrick managed to put his smile back on before facing her, and Bridgett snickered.

  “He’s an interesting one,” she said quietly.

  “You haven’t seen the half of it,” I told her. I leaned in a little closer and pushed her hair off her shoulder. “I was in here once when Michele was on vacation – the guy couldn’t figure out how to make a rum and Coke.”

  Michele brought out my PB&J waffle.

  “Are you really going to eat that?” Bridgett asked as she looked down at the plate.

  “Most definitely,” I told her. “This shit is the best soul food in the world, right, Michele?”

  “Better than chicken and biscuits,” she agreed. “Actually, that’s the only thing that could make them any better – put a piece of chicken in the middle and cover it all with gravy.”

  “We should totally try that!” Patrick said. “I’m gonna see if they’ll make that in the kitchen.”

  Patrick disappeared, and Michele laughed. Bridgett shook her head and rolled her eyes at me. I took my fork and cut off a little piece of the waffle, which was oozing jelly. Picking it up with my fingers, I turned towards Bridgett and held it up to her mouth.

  “You want to try this,” I informed her.

  “I really don’t think I do!” she cringed and mashed her lips together.

  With one finger, I traced up the side of her neck.

  “You would regret it for the rest of your life if you didn’t try it.”

  “I’m okay with that.”

  “Come on,” I urged. “If you can swallow guys’ cocks all night, you can definitely try this.”

  She glared at me, and I realized what I said was pretty douchebaggish but ended up rolling my eyes back at her.

  “Just try it.”

  With her eyes still slightly narrowed, she opened her mouth and took the little piece inside. As soon as she sunk her teeth into the homemade waffle oozing peanut butter and strawberry jelly, I knew she was hooked, and she had totally forgotten what I had said.

  “This is incredible!” she exclaimed.

  “It’s awesome, right? Food of the fucking gods.”