Jessie moved closer, gyrating her hips above Dani’s and Shannon’s laps. She draped her arms around them, ran her fingers seductively through their hair, pressed her scantily clad breasts toward their faces. Shannon, feeling no pain, boldly and uncharacteristically pushed her face into Jessie’s cleavage for a moment, earning a loud whoop from the crowd. As the song finished, Jessie wound the whip tightly around the guests of honor’s shoulders, joining them much closer than the handcuffs. Only when they kissed did Jessie release them. She saluted them a final time, kissed each of them on the cheek, then sassily sashayed away.
“Oh, my God!” Heather protested. “Come back here, missy! You can’t leave yet! You’re just getting started! How much are they paying you?”
Dani laughed and loudly accused her raucous sister of going gay.
“Whatever. It sure as hell seems like more fun than I’ve been having lately!”
Dani tugged Shannon from her seat. “C’mon you naughty thing, you. Good thing Jordan thought to handcuff you to me, or who knows what trouble you’d get into around here!”
“I only want to get into trouble with you, my love.”
“Perfect. Let’s see what trouble we can get into on the dance floor.”
Soon Heather was dancing as well, and with a very tall tranny. Amanda slowly guided Claire onto the floor, Claire somehow managing to look both eager and shy. The song was called “Dirty Talk,” the singer singing about pantyhose, legs up, in the back of a car, doing dirty things tonight. Jordan’s pulse began to match the beat of the music. She thought of Dez’s long legs, wished she could grind up against her on the dance floor, the heat and sweat from their bodies mingling as they sizzled together, their desire for one another in full throttle. She’d not had a chance to dance with Dez, and she regretted it, especially as she watched Amanda and Claire move in time, their hips rhythmically coming together, their hands touching in this dance of innocent foreplay. There was a certain sexual grace on the dance floor between two people hot for each other, whether the attraction had been consummated or not, and Jordan missed the excitement of new desire. She missed Dez and she was getting turned on in the worst way.
“Care to dance?”
Jordan turned toward the voice and the honey-skinned woman who could have been Dez’s younger sister. “Okay.”
They were not at all awkward with each other, as two strangers often were. Jordan, well lubricated from the evening’s alcohol and the flood of hormones helplessly cascading through her body, relaxed into the dance. “I’m Jordan. What’s your name, beautiful?”
“Savannah.”
Jordan winced at the reminder of Georgia, Dez’s home state.
“I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off you since you came in,” the woman continued, her gaze bold. “I have to tell you, I think you’re sexy as hell.”
That got Jordan’s attention. Dez wasn’t here. Dez had banished her for good. Screw Dez. Savannah was ready, willing and present—the three criteria that mattered. Savannah made no secret of wanting her, and so she began turning on the famous Jordan Scott charm, began dancing closer, touching Savannah, making her desire known, muttering the right words, moving seductively. The game was in full operation.
Three songs were all it took. Savannah looked at Jordan, raised her eyebrows with the unstated question, and Jordan followed her out. She caught Dani near the door, told her she’d make her own way back to the hotel later, and tossed her the key to the handcuffs.
Dani laughed and shook her head. “You’re not in a hurry to have these things back, are you?”
“Hell no. You go, girl!”
She followed Savannah to the parking lot and hopped into her Mustang convertible—definitely a babe mobile. Savannah, it seemed, was well practiced in the art of picking up women, but what the hell, so was Jordan. It made things simple.
At Savannah’s apartment, tall drinks were poured and the small talk on the sofa was superficial. It wasn’t long before Savannah moved onto Jordan’s lap and began kissing her deeply. She nibbled on Jordan’s lips, kissed her deeply again, moved her tongue deep inside while Jordan cupped her round ass, pulling her closer. Savannah began moaning as she placed Jordan’s hands on her full breasts, her nipples already pebble hard. Jordan squeezed lightly, brushing her thumbs against Savannah’s nipples. She moved her mouth roughly to Savannah’s neck and shoulder. She sucked and bit the flesh, kissing it softly too. Punishment and reward. God, how she wanted to fuck and be fucked. Hard. She wanted to squeeze those tits hard, shove her hand forcefully against Savannah’s crotch, rip and tear at her clothes, plunge two, maybe three fingers inside. No mercy. And then she wanted this woman to suck her breasts and then suck her clit, hard and fast as she could. Oh yeah, she wanted it all hard and fast tonight.
Savannah removed her blouse, pushed a breast into Jordan’s eager mouth. Oh yeah, Savannah knew how to give it too. Perfect. Except it wasn’t perfect. Jordan’s interest suddenly began to ebb, and quickly. It was like water draining from a tub. If she had a penis it would be going soft right now. Shit. It wasn’t like her not to be able to keep it up. Once she started something, she was never one to give up prematurely. A clit teaser she was most definitely not. But this . . . this was weird. She couldn’t explain it, had no answer for it, and it pissed her off.
“What’s wrong, stud?”
“I don’t know.”
Panic burned in her throat. What the hell was happening to her these days? The discovery of sleeping with her first lover’s daughter had thrown her world off its axis. It was unlike any reality check she’d ever known and it had put the brakes to her promiscuity in one hell of a hurry. Well, except for this little lapse with Savannah. And of course Dez, who had totally eviscerated her world, annihilating everything she thought she’d ever known about herself. Dez. Dez was the answer to every riddle in her life, the destination of every trip, the reward at the end of a hard day. She’d never known what any of those things were like until she’d met Dez, and no matter how much it terrified her or pissed her off, she wanted Dez still. Needed Dez in her life. Dez made everything in her life make sense—gave a kind of order to the positively disorderliness of her life.
“Shit, I’m so sorry, Savannah.” She pulled herself out from under Savannah, trying not to be rude, but Christ, she needed to get out of there. Harsh words from Savannah were probably deserved, but the woman only smiled with regret.
“Don’t be sorry. I just wish I was her.”
“Huh?”
“Whoever it is you’re stuck on, baby. She’s one lucky woman.”
Yeah, Jordan thought miserably. Wish you’d tell her that.
“I’ll call you a cab,” Savannah said helpfully.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Amanda
Finally, a slow song, Amanda thought with relief and silently celebrated. Deejays never played enough slow songs. Cynically, she supposed that there were all kinds of reasons for the fast songs, like the faster people danced, the more they spent on drinks. Or perhaps the fewer slow songs, the fewer public scraps people got into over strangers asking their girlfriends or boyfriends to dance. All that mattered now was that Chantal Kreviazuk’s “Feels Like Home” was playing, and she’d been waiting for this chance to slow dance with Claire for at least an hour.
She took another sip of her cocktail—she’d lost count of the number of drinks she’d consumed—and forced a degree of courage on herself that she didn’t really feel. “Will you do me the honor of dancing with me?”
Claire answered with a smile and followed Amanda onto the dance floor. There was only a brief moment of awkwardness as they came together, and it wasn’t long before they fit like they’d been doing this for a thousand years. As the song progressed, they moved intimately closer, swaying in perfect time, each quietly lost in the feel of being so physically close. She wondered if Claire was thinking, like her, how perfect this felt, how much like being in bed together this mimicked. A form of vertical, fully-clothed s
ex. Not such a bad substitute, she thought, as the song and the feel of their bodies together coalesced into a sublime sweetness, and Amanda knew she was grinning like a kid at Christmas—one who’d just gotten everything she wanted. She was too drunk and too happy to care.
“Congratulations, by the way,” Claire whispered.
“For what?”
“For telling Shannon the truth. She told me you did. I’m so proud of you. How does it feel now that she knows everything?”
“It feels . . . strange. Good but strange. It feels more like I’m an adult with her and not a kid anymore. More like we’re equals.”
“About time you felt that way, don’t you think?”
“I’m not, you know.”
“What?”
Amanda looked fearlessly at Claire. “A kid.”
“I know.” Something in Claire’s eyes told her that, indeed, she was only too aware of the fact that Amanda was a grown woman. Claire looked at her much differently now than she’d looked at her earlier in the week.
They had the kid part out of the way. Now Amanda wondered why they weren’t talking about how they really felt about one another. No amount of alcohol could make her say the words, and she was afraid the words might back Claire into a corner. Claire had to ease into things, feel comfortable, come to her own conclusions. Amanda couldn’t blame her for her cautious approach. Amanda also didn’t want to rush into anything. She’d already made a huge mistake rushing things with Jennifer, and there was much to be said for going slow, particularly given their age difference and Claire’s friendship with Shannon. She would be patient.
“How is my aunt doing after that little shocker?”
“She’s doing fine. She wants you to be happy, no matter what.”
“I feel terrible that I hurt her by keeping secrets. I should have told her a long time ago. I ended up making things worse by not telling her about the marriage, and then not telling her it didn’t work out.”
“It’s all in the past now and you can start with a clean slate. Not to sound like I’m psychoanalyzing things, but I think it’s time Shannon accepted that you’re an adult who can make your own decisions, including your share of mistakes, and that you’ll be just fine. And now you can accept your aunt as a true friend and contemporary—one who will love you no matter what.”
Amanda held Claire tighter. “Thank you for saying that. She’s lucky to have you for a friend. Any woman would be lucky to have you in their corner.”
Claire’s smile was a little roguish, and Amanda immediately loved her playfulness. “I’m pretty good in corners. Other places too.”
Amanda shook her head in laughter. “I have no trouble at all believing that.” She’d love to put Claire to the test one day, but for now she needed to force herself to behave and not say anything too provocative. The alcohol and the feel of Claire’s breasts against her and her strong arms holding her tight were dangerously fueling Amanda’s sexual attraction. And it was sexual attraction. She was wet, turned on. She wanted Claire, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.
The song segued into another slow one, “Afternoon Delight.” Claire energetically spun Amanda, then dipped her. “I haven’t heard this old song in decades. Isn’t it a blast?”
Yes, Amanda thought, it is, and you, my sweet Claire, are a treasure. They danced to the rest of the song in companionable silence. When it came time to return to their seats, Amanda stumbled a little. It was late and she’d had way more to drink than she was accustomed to.
“I think I need to go back to the hotel,” she mumbled apologetically to the group.
Shannon, still happily handcuffed to Dani, offered to help her back safely.
“I’ll go with her,” Claire countered. “I think I’ve reached my limit too.”
Shortly after, in the cab ride back, Amanda watched Claire’s handsome profile in the passing lights. “I’m sorry if I made you leave prematurely.”
“Trust me, I’m partied out,” Claire answered around a yawn. “It was fun, but I haven’t had this much excitement in a long time. My body hasn’t figured out yet what hit it.”
“I had fun too.”
The evening had felt like a date, even more so now that they were alone in the back seat of a cab and heading to the hotel together. She slipped her hand inside Claire’s, insanely happy when Claire didn’t resist. Yes, this too felt familiar, tenderly holding hands after a night of fun. Amanda’s head swam with visions of them going back to just one room. It wasn’t a silly fantasy, because it felt absolutely like the right thing to do.
In the hall, Amanda struggled with her key card. Claire, whose hand was steadier, helped her open the door. “Will you come inside?” Amanda chanced.
A look of awkward surprise settled on Claire. “Um, I—”
Her shyness was cute, but Amanda didn’t want her to feel pressured that it was a come-on. “There was one more thing I was hoping to talk to you about,” she quickly amended.
“Okay.”
“I’d ask if you wanted another drink but I suspect you don’t.”
“No. I think I’ve had more than enough.”
“Me too.” She gestured to the loveseat by the large window and waited until Claire sat down. Amanda sat beside her, wishing they could hold hands again like in the cab, but holding hands alone together in a hotel room came with a different set of expectations.
“Are you okay?” Claire asked softly.
“Yes, but I’m very worried about my aunt. When we were having our talk today, she told me that she can’t have any children. I know how much she and Dani want a baby. Is it really true that she can’t conceive?”
“Yes, it is. It’s not very common at her age, but it’s not exactly uncommon either. It’s unfortunate, but they do have other options if they want to be parents. Just not biological options.”
“Shit. I can’t believe it’s so final.”
“I know. It’s tough news to take. It was a real blow to her at first, but I think she’s more accepting of it now. Shannon’s always been a realist. It’s one of the things that made her such a great nurse.”
“But Dani . . . she hasn’t even told her yet. I’m so scared, Claire.”
“Scared of what?” she asked, such kindness and strength in her eyes and voice that Amanda immediately wanted to fall into her arms.
In the gloom, Amanda felt tears gather in the corners of her eyes, then felt them slither slowly down her face. It scared her when people’s dreams came crashing to a halt. It scared her when science and medicine couldn’t fix what was wrong. It scared her that Shannon might be wrong about Dani’s unconditional love for her. “I guess I’m scared most that they won’t be able to move past this as a couple,” she said in a shaky voice. “I’m scared Shannon’s marriage will end up like mine. A piece of crap.”
Claire slid her hand into Amanda’s and held it tightly. She brushed the tears from Amanda’s cheeks in an act that resembled that of a lover. Claire didn’t need to say anything; Amanda felt her comfort and strength in her touch. It wasn’t long before she nestled into Claire’s arms, laid her head against her chest, and let Claire’s rhythmic breathing make her feel safe.
After several moments, Amanda whispered, “Thank you. I can’t even remember the last time anyone’s held me like that.”
Claire kissed the top of her head, her arms still firmly around her. “It’s just about the best thing in the world, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is. Did you have anyone in your life the last few years who did this for you?”
“Unfortunately not enough, no.”
“How did you manage to get through that time?”
Claire’s laugh was mournful. “Who said I managed?”
Amanda thought a while before she answered. She knew grief left an indelible print and that not everyone moved past it. Only her youth and her career ambitions had got her through her mother’s death. Losing a life partner was another matter, and the reality of Claire’s past
slammed into her with a crushing, jarring weight. Claire would never love you. Claire lost the only person she’ll ever love. The thought made her stop breathing for a moment and she had to clear her throat before she could speak. “You’re here, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I guess that’s something, isn’t it?”
“That’s more than something.” Amanda raised her head to look into Claire’s eyes. “You have so much to give, so much love still in your heart, so much strength within. I can feel it. You can’t give up, ever. You can’t ever stop giving life everything you have to offer. There’s so much living left to do.”
“That sounds like good advice for you as well.”
“You’re right. Maybe it’s something we both need to hear.” Another tear was working its way loose and Amanda sucked in a ragged breath. Being this close to Claire, being held in her arms, looking into her soft brown eyes, feeling her warm breath against her—it was almost too much and yet it was not nearly enough. “I’m scared because sometimes I want so much. Like right now.”
Claire seemed to know exactly what she meant, for she nodded ever so slightly. Amanda knew Claire wanted things too—things she was too scared to demand or accept. With a fingertip she touched Claire’s cheek, ran it down the side of her face and to her chin, and watched as Claire closed her eyes. Her capitulation was like the sand giving way easily to rising water. With a momentum she couldn’t and didn’t want to stop, Amanda moved closer until her lips touched Claire’s, softly, like a raindrop on glass. Claire flinched once in surprise but her eyes remained closed as Amanda kissed her again. The softness turned into something bolder, harder, like a rainstorm gathering into a torrential downpour. Claire relented further, melted into Amanda’s arms as the kiss deepened. Soft warm lips gave way to hungry mouths. Amanda turned up the heat, pressed harder, opened wider, demanded more. Claire gave it, matching a fervor that never stopped being tender, and it was not unlike the thousands of kisses Amanda had enjoyed in her life—a mix of tenderness and heat and promise blending perfectly together. And yet it was not like any other kiss, not a real kiss like this, where time stood still and where no one who’d come before Claire mattered in the least. Yes, it was like every corny movie and song all rolled into one, Amanda thought with amusement. Who knew it could be this good?
The Wedding Party Page 17