Eye Candy

by Tijan

  Ruby pats my hand and smiles. “It’s impossible not to like you, Amie. Maybe planning this party together will help.”

  “Maybe.” I have my doubts.

  “How’s the wedding planning going, anyway?” Ruby asks. “You must be excited now that it’s only a few months away.”

  I should be excited. Unfortunately, wedding plans fill me with dread these days. It’s not that I have cold feet. Not more than is normal, anyway. It’s that I’ve given up far more control over the wedding plans than I ever intended just to make things easier with Gwendolyn, and clearly it hasn’t improved our relationship at all.

  I decide to focus on the positive. “The dresses are supposed to arrive in a couple of weeks. If we’re lucky we’ll have a fitting before the Halloween soirée.”

  Although if that happens, I’m sure to be spending even more time with Armstrong’s mother. She has an opinion on everything and since the reception is being held at one of the Millses’ hotels she’s been heavily involved in all aspects of the planning, which Armstrong seems to think is totally reasonable. Since my family lives out of state, my own mother hasn’t been very involved.

  “And you must be super excited for the honeymoon, right?” Ruby lowers her voice to a whisper so only I can hear her. “You’ll finally be deflowered after all these years.”

  I snort indelicately. Ruby is very well aware that there is no flower to pluck where I’m concerned. I dated a lot in high school. And typically not the kind of boys I could or should bring home to meet my parents. I figured if I wasn’t supposed to have sex it wouldn’t feel so good. Speaking of, I could really use some soon.

  “I hope once we’re married things will pick back up in the in bedroom.”

  “What do you mean?” Ruby stops sipping her mimosa, which is already half gone.

  I wave my hand around in the air as if my comment doesn’t matter. “The stress of the wedding is making things . . . difficult.”

  Ruby frowns and gives me her full attention. “Does that mean you’re not getting much action?”

  I fiddle with my napkin so I don’t have to look at her. Ruby and I have always been pretty open with each other about our sex lives. I’ve probably shared much more with her than she needs to know, but then, we’ve been friends for more than a decade.

  She was the first person I told when I actually was deflowered back in my junior year of high school. Well, Ruby and I went to prep school. The boy I gave my virginity to was the son of my father’s mechanic. Brent Harper was a serious bad boy and oh-so-good with his fingers. That translated very well fully naked. Unfortunately, that “bad boy” reputation was well earned. Last I heard he was in prison for embezzlement with no chance of parole. Ironically, he’s not the only boyfriend I’ve had with a mug shot. The bad ones were always hard to resist.

  “Hello! Amalie?” Ruby waves her hand in front of my face.

  “What?”

  “Are you low on action?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I’m being too demanding. I mean, I know I have a healthy drive, probably a little too healthy sometimes. It’s why I’m at the gym so much these days, but running and yoga really aren’t a replacement for sex and orgasms.” I realize I’m playing with my hair and fold my hands in my lap to cease the anxious behavior.

  Ruby glances around the restaurant, maybe to make sure we have privacy. “When was the last time you had sex?”

  “Umm . . .” I look up at the ceiling as I ponder the answer to this question. Beyond the blowjob I gave to Armstrong in the car on Monday, it’s been a while. “Maybe a week ago?”

  Ruby raises a brow. “Maybe?”

  I consult the calendar in my phone, just to be certain of the accuracy. “Oh. Wow.”

  “Oh wow, what?”

  The last day marked with an “O” was nearly two weeks ago. “It’s been thirteen days.”

  “Since you’ve had sex?” Ruby asks, maybe just a bit too loud. Thankfully we’re in a private corner of the restaurant. “Didn’t you stay at his place on the weekend?”

  “I did, but he’d had a busy week and fell asleep before I could jump him, and no. I was right about the sex being a week ago.”

  “Then what’s been thirteen days?” Ruby’s eyes go even wider and she grips the edge of the table. “Don’t tell me your period is late.”

  I shake my head. “That’s next week. It’s been thirteen days since I’ve had an orgasm.”

  “Oh.” Ruby sags with relief. And then her mouth drops open. “Thirteen days?”

  I nod.

  “That doesn’t make sense if you had sex last week. How is that possible if you haven’t had an orgasm? And how can you survive that long without having an orgasm?”

  Maybe this wasn’t the best place to bring this up.

  The server stops by our table with an assortment of appetizers and goes to the trouble of describing each and every one of them.

  “Oh my God! These are adorable!” Some of them are adorable, others are a little creepy. They’re all Halloween-themed. There are coffin-shaped tarts, the mushroom caps look a lot like eyeballs, which is a tad unappetizing, and there’s something on the plate that looks unnervingly like a spider. We wait patiently while he talks. I can tell it’s taking Ruby a great deal of restraint not to dig right in and try everything.

  I think I’ve managed to get out of our discussion about my lack of orgasms, but as soon the server has disappeared, Ruby leans in and whispers, “Is your clit sucker broken or something?”

  That’s Ruby’s affectionate term for my favorite personal pleasure device. In my opinion, there is no better way to get off. Apart from actual sex, obviously. “No. It’s not broken.”

  “Is your clit broken, then?”

  “It’s not broken either.”

  “You need to explain this. Aren’t you the one who said an orgasm a day keeps the mood swings at bay or something?”

  This is totally my mantra. I’ve lived by it for years. Since I had my first orgasm, to be quite honest. I learned exactly what it took to get me off by the time I was seventeen. It was a fluke really, and I generally don’t have trouble reaching orgasm. Well, lately with Armstrong it’s been a bit of a problem, but I think it’s psychosomatic on my part.

  I can usually manage to get off in under three minutes under the right conditions. I don’t need the typical ten to fifteen or sometimes more that seems to be the general average, at least not when I’m excited, and who isn’t excited when there’s the prospect of an orgasm?

  “I’m trying something new,” I mumble.

  “Something new? Well it sure can’t be good if you haven’t had an orgasm in thirteen damn days.” Ruby pops a mushroom cap in her mouth and moans. “We definitely need more of these. These go on the list.” She dabs the corners of her mouth with a napkin.

  “I think we may want to consider the appearance of some of these. We could save the horrorish themes for the drinks instead,” I suggest. I pick up something that looks much like a stabbed heart. It tastes delicious. I think it’s a stuffed pepper.

  “So what’s this new orgasmless torture you’re trying out? This sounds worse than that burpee regime last month.”

  I choose one of the normal looking appetizers, an endive and shrimp hors d’oeuvre, and nibble the end. “Well, I’ve been having some difficulty orgasming with Armstrong lately.”

  “Like he gets a finger cramp from all the rubbing? Just get out your clit sucker and you’re golden. Better yet, make him be the clit sucker.”

  “He doesn’t know about the CS.”

  Ruby blinks at me. “Wait a second. You haven’t introduced him to your toy collection?”

  I can feel my cheeks going pink. The honest answer to this is no, I haven’t. I did try once, but he was not pleased when he saw the size of my vibrator, which surpasses him in both length and girth. “I stay at his place all the time and my collection is at my place.”

  “I can see how carting around your trunk of magic tricks would b
e a little cumbersome. Oh my God. Remember that time you forgot to take the batteries out of your g-spot lover?”

  “Oh, I remember.” The vibrator Ruby’s referring to has a rounded angled head to it that hits the g-spot. It’s rather accurate in its curvature.

  “I’m pretty sure that airport security guard fell in love with you that night. He wanted to give you the rubber glove treatment so bad.” She wags her eyebrows.

  “He was hot, wasn’t he?”

  “So hot. And those tattoos. My lord. Just delicious.” She picks up a tomato tart and takes a small bite. “Almost as delicious as these. They go on the list, too. So back to your orgasm drought. I’m not getting why you haven’t had one just because Armstrong is having difficulty getting you there.”

  “I think it’s just the stress. I figured maybe if I wasn’t helping myself out every day it would be easier for him to make it happen.”

  “But you haven’t had sex in a week.”

  “No.”

  “Didn’t you stay at his place on Monday?”

  “I don’t stay at his place on Mondays because he has squash on Tuesday morning and if I stay he won’t get enough sleep.”

  Ruby sets down her fork and regards me for a few long seconds before she releases a long, slow breath. “Please don’t be offended, but are you sure you really want to marry this guy?”

  I know she’s just trying to be a good friend, but when she says things like that, wearing that expression, it makes me wonder if my cold feet are more than just normal wedding jitters. Armstrong is a good choice; he’s stable, solid, intelligent, organized, and goal oriented. He’s everything my other boyfriends haven’t been. And he’s never been arrested, so that’s a serious check mark in the plus category. Also, my parents approve wholeheartedly of my choice, another huge check mark. “We’re just going through a phase. I’m making it sound worse than it is. We’ve both been busy. Planning a wedding is stressful, especially with Gwendolyn involved.”

  “If you say so. It’s never too late to back out and find a new penis to sit on for the rest of your life.”

  The server returns with a new platter of appetizers, ending the conversation. But now I can’t help but worry: What if it doesn’t get better? What if things don’t go back to the way they were before the engagement? The CS is amazing. It gets the job done every time, but I don’t want it to be my primary source of orgasms for the remainder of my sex-having years.

  Chapter 5: Dinner with the Mills Family

  Amie

  I’ve been to the Millses’ mansion for dinner before. It’s far more relaxed than dinners with Armstrong’s family. Those are all very formal affairs, where we all sit primly and talk about business and the state of the world and what charity organizations will give the best promotional opportunities.

  Mimi greets us with hugs and air kisses. She tells me I look beautiful, gushing over what she calls my “stunning figure.” Armstrong pats my ass when he thinks no one is watching and Gwendolyn comments on the amount of time I spend taking yoga.

  Ruby’s already here with Bane. I know because she messaged me ten minutes ago, asking where I was. She’s not in the living room, and neither is Bane. The two of them better not be off screwing each other. They do that frequently at these dinner events. Just slip off for twenty minutes thinking no one will notice and Ruby always comes back looking like the cat who ate the canary. Or has been eaten by her cat. Which is probably likely. According to her reports, Bane enjoys frequent dining at the vagina buffet.

  I look around for Bane’s brothers, expecting the entire family to be here, as seems to be typical whenever dinner is arranged. Bancroft’s oldest brother, Griffin, is across the room, close talking with his fiancée, Imogen. I don’t see Lexington. Maybe he’s not coming. Not that it matters. Actually, it’s probably better if he isn’t here since his presence seems to put Armstrong in a bad mood.

  “Oh! Yay! You’re finally here!” Ruby leaps across the room. Her cheeks are rosy. I imagine this means she’s been imbibing. “Come with me to the kitchen! We’re making the coolest drinks! Well, I’m not making anything, but you need to see this.”

  “Don’t let her drink the red shots,” Bane calls after us, “I don’t want to have to carry her to the car tonight!”

  Ruby blows him a kiss as we pass.

  The kitchen isn’t bustling with people prepping food, because that happens in the chef’s quarters. The Millses are beyond rich. They own one of the most luxurious hotel chains in the world. There’s an industrial kitchen beyond the “normal kitchen,” which is bigger than my entire apartment, probably twice over.

  Everything is stainless steel and state-of-the-art. And in the middle of the massive, gorgeous kitchen, standing behind the island, is Lexington.

  He’s wearing a black dress shirt and a plaid tie. It’s a very strange combination, oddly lumberjackish, but in a hipster kind of way. And it’s impossible not to look at. It’s also very difficult not to notice the tattoo peeking out of his rolled-up sleeve. Armstrong would never get a tattoo, but I think it has more to do with his fear of needles than his actual dislike of body art.

  Ruby lets go of my arm and shrieks, bouncing her way across the kitchen over to where Lexington is busy making drinks. And not just any kind of drinks; Halloween-inspired ones.

  He watches her with amusement, his gaze shifting briefly to me. And then it moves over me. Slowly. The right side of his mouth turns up and we make eye contact. It’s short lived. Which is good, because the way he’s looking at me feels rather inappropriate. I look down, checking to make sure my dress isn’t showing anything it’s not supposed to. Nope. Everything is as it should be.

  She hugs his arm and grins broadly. “Look at all the cool drinks Lexy made!”

  He looks down at her with an arched eyebrow. “Uh, no.” At her confusion he gives his head a shake. “We’re not adding a y to the end of my name so you can feel better about having one at the end of yours.”

  Ruby’s smile turns evil. “Isn’t that what Brittany calls you?”

  “Please do not bring her up. Especially around Mimi. Maybe just not ever, actually.”

  “Isn’t that who Bancroft brought to my engagement party?” I ask, just so I can feel like part of the conversation I suppose.

  That brings Lexington’s attention back to me. “Yeah. Apparently, that doesn’t mean she’s undateable in this family.”

  “I hear she likes lollipops, a lot,” Ruby snickers.

  Lex makes a face. “Yeah. Well, I’d like to keep my lollipop as far away from her as humanly possible. Are you going to try one of these or are they just for people to look at?”

  Ruby points to one layered with yellow at the bottom, orange in the middle, and white at the top. “What’s this?”

  “Exactly what it looks like, candy corn.” He hands Ruby the glass and she sniffs it before she takes a small sip.

  “Oooh! This is amazing. Amie, you need to try something!” Ruby elbows Lex in the arm. “Give her something yummy.”

  “I’ve got lots of yummy things. Which one would you like?” he asks.

  It takes me a moment to realize he’s not being inappropriate. Why is my brain turning everything into something dirty? I gave myself an orgasm before Armstrong picked me up. I gave myself three actually.

  In the time since I revealed to Ruby my lack of Armstrong-given orgasms, I considered that maybe I’ve been overthinking things, and the lack of orgasms has nothing to do with Armstrong and everything to do with me. So I took the pressure off of both of us. Except my mind is still clearly hanging out in the gutter, and enjoying being there.

  “How about a Vampire Kiss?” Lexington pushes a martini glass toward me.

  “Um, sure?” The concoction is rimmed with something pink and a set of fake black vampire teeth are poised on the side. It’s really rather creative. I take a small sip. It’s also rather delicious.

  “Amalie.” Armstrong’s arm wraps around my waist. “I’ve been looking
all over for you. My mother wants to go over details with you and Ruby about the charity event. Something about picking a theme for costumes.” He runs his nose up the side of my neck. “Lexington. I didn’t expect you’d be here tonight.”

  “It’s my family. Why wouldn’t I be here?”

  “I just thought you’d be away on business. Or out doing whatever it is you usually do. Sampling leftovers, that kind of thing.” Armstrong plucks the glass from my hand and sniffs it. “What is this?”

  “It’s a Vampire Kiss. Lex made it.”

  “Shouldn’t the bartender be doing that?” Armstrong takes a sip, then dumps the rest down the drain.

  “I liked that!”

  “It has too much sugar in it. Come, Amalie, we’ll get you a glass of champagne.” He keeps a firm grip on my waist and steers me in the direction of the sitting room.

  I look over my shoulder, shooting an apologetic look at Lex, who’s scratching his forehead with his middle finger. I really hope that’s not directed at me. I mouth help me to Ruby before we round the corner and I’m forced to contend with Armstrong’s horrible mother alone. Ruby better do her job and save me, since this entire thing was her idea in the first place.

  Chapter 6: Boyfriend Auction

  Ruby

  “Why is he always such a dick?” I mutter.

  “That’s a rhetorical question, right?” Lex downs a shot and then a second one. “You’ve met my aunt. I’m sure the answer to that is quite clear.”

  “But Fredrick is a nice guy. Or at least he seems nice.”

  “Appearances can be rather deceiving, though, can’t they?”

  I don’t have a chance to ask what that means because Bancroft pokes his head in the door. “I think you should come out here and help save your friend from being tortured.”

  I sigh, but take my candy corn cocktail with me to the sitting room where Amie is trapped between Bancroft’s mother and Armstrong’s mother.