by Nicki Elson
“Baby sister!” Jess cooed, pulling Lyssa into a big hug upon her arrival.
Lyssa hugged her back, inhaling her sister’s powdery scent and enjoying what she was sure would be the first and last blissful moment of the visit … though if she were in a mood to analyze, she’d note that “baby sister” was an early slam. Lyssa was only three years younger, yet Jessica liked to emphasize how very behind she was in the “normal” progression of life. Jess was married and already had three children—four if you counted her husband Sam’s son from the marriage she’d wrecked—while none of Lyssa’s accomplishments seemed to rate as anything at all without the almighty ring on her finger.
“How’s the big bad city treating you,” Jessica asked, pulling back and holding her hand to her sister’s face, running a thumb over her cheek. “Yikes, all those exhaust fumes are hell on the pores, I see.”
“The city’s great, Jess. Too bad you never got a chance to live there.”
“Well, some of us move on with our lives and can’t stay stuck in the party-party atmosphere of the college years forever.”
“True. And some of us feel the need to experience life before bending to the will of an arcane society.”
“Alyssa Marie!” Penny appeared out of nowhere.
“Sorry, Mom. Was just joking. You know that, right, Jess?”
“Of course. All we ever get from you is goofing off,” the elder sister answered.
Well, not everyone can have a giant stick shoved up her bum at such a young age, Lyssa refrained from saying through her now-strained smile.
Lyssa had the Thanksgiving routine down: arrive late Wednesday evening, allowing no more than an hour or so for visiting before turning in for the night, then follow Jessica’s and Penny’s strict instructions the next morning throughout meal prep, eat, help clear the dishes, and clean up the kitchen, making no mention whatsoever of the rampant sexism perpetuated by the women cleaning while the men lounged and watched football—she’d learned two years earlier that saying something would only have her mother hinting that if she were a lesbian, she should come out and say it. Instead, Lyssa listened to Penny and Jessica discuss the moistness of the turkey and the activities of their various committees. Never once did either of them ask Lyssa how things were going with her job.
At some point during the day, Lyssa made sure to give a plausible excuse for having to leave Friday morning. She’d be spending four straight days with her mom and sister at Christmas and needed to start storing up tolerance for that visit as soon as possible. After dishes were dried and put away, she escaped to the upstairs bedrooms to play games with the kids. This year, it was a twisted version of Candy Land.
“Here, Auntie Lyss. You’re the toilet,” said Lyssa’s four-year-old niece, Gabby.
“Toilet!” Lyssa mock growled, reaching out to tickle Gabby’s tummy and sending the girl to the floor as she erupted in giggles. A plastic dollhouse toilet sat next to a miniature, rubber dinosaur on the game board. “Why can’t I be the T. rex?”
Gabby pushed herself up to sit, shaking her head. “Ben is the T. rex.”
Lyssa narrowed teasing eyes at her. “What are you?”
“Barbie’s head.” She produced the unfortunate blond’s bodiless noggin with gnarled hair sticking out at all angles.
“The toilet suddenly doesn’t look like such a bad deal. Where’s Benny?”
“Taking a dump.”
Lyssa laughed though she knew Jessica would give her the hairy eyeball if she were there. Sarah, the toddling two-year-old, came over from the corner of the room and handed Lyssa a torn page from a Disney Princess coloring book. Two swishes of red marker slashed across Jasmine. “Pretty.” Lyssa had settled onto the floor next to the game and pulled her youngest niece onto her lap as Benjamin entered the room. He was seven years old, tall for his age, and had a quiet, often serious demeanor like his dad.
He joined them, and they began their journey through Fart Forest and Poopy Swamp, as Gabby had renamed them. Part way through, Lyssa’s phone buzzed with a text. It was Keith. She stared for a few seconds at the name: Hot Stuff. He hadn’t called or texted since the breakup, so she hadn’t thought to change it.
Keith: Happy turkey day. U at sisters?
Lyssa: Yep. U?
Keith: At Ps. Was nice to c u last weekend
Lyssa paused a moment before responding. This was … unexpected, but she didn’t want him to sense her hesitation, so she shook it off and typed:
Lyssa: Ditto. How did date go?
“Auntie Lyssa … ” Gabby growled.
“Sorry.” Sarah had wandered off at some point, so Lyssa threw her phone into her lap—screen up—and took her turn, glancing immediately down at the phone once she’d finished.
Keith: Er not good. U left & it was 20?s. High paranoia
Lyssa: Sorry
Keith: Is ok. Not really into her
Lyssa tapped her thumb against the side of her phone, staring at it, unsure of how to respond. Unsure of how she even felt.
“Auntie! That’s rude!” Gabby shouted.
Half in a daze, still caught in her quandary, she looked up at the little girl but said nothing.
“It’s your turn again,” Benjamin explained.
“Give me a sec,” Lyssa said, smiling at the perfect response that had been handed to her.
Lyssa: Gabby just told me Im rude ha. I should go
Keith: ok
Lyssa: gobble gobble
Keith:;p
She smiled. He’d thought of her on a national holiday. And the date had gone badly—because of her. She wasn’t sure what, if any, implications this had for her and Keith’s future. She wasn’t going to analyze it right now, but she was going to enjoy the delightful tingles the mild flirtation had given her. Assuming it had been flirtation.
As she lay on the couch that night, her hand traveled under the elastic waistband of her pajama bottoms. She was thinking of Keith. In the privacy of her mind, it was perfectly safe to imagine a reunion and his wide mouth reacquainting itself with every inch of her.
Knowing she’d be relegated to the family room sofa during her stay at her sister’s, Lyssa hadn’t bothered to bring any variation of Vibrizzio, but now, experienced though her fingers were, she regretted that decision. She wanted more power, ached for it as she tried to mimic the device’s quick pulse.
She froze when a loud crack sounded from the kitchen. After assessing that it was a false alarm, she slid her hand up and out of her pants nonetheless. Between worrying about someone walking in on her and the lack of electronic pleasure, there’d be no getting off tonight. After several fitful changes in position, sleep finally overtook her.
***
The sound of the vacuum cleaner coming down the hall woke her the next morning. “Up and at ’em,” Jessica chirped above the loud hum as she emerged into the family room with the machine.
Lyssa was dismayed to find she’d awoken as aroused as she’d been the night before. Actually—more so. Her girly bits were engorged, and she had the sensation that she’d been grinding into the throw pillow she found wedged between her legs If she’d been endowed with male equipment, she was sure she wouldn’t have been able to stand right then, at least not without a great deal of embarrassment.
“Get those out of my way, please,” Jess said, indicating Lyssa’s socks and more throw pillows on the floor.
Lyssa jumped up and scooped the mess onto the sofa, then stepped to her sister to blow dragon breath into her face before heading to the bathroom. Standing next to the vacuum, she felt its vibrations in the bare soles of her feet, and a jolt of pleasure tickled her vaginal walls. Trying not to show her panic, she forewent the offensive breath blowing and rushed to the bathroom, where she slammed the door and thrust her hand into her pants.
She was coated in a slippery wetness thick enough for her to wonder if she’d already climaxed in her sleep. My God, how long has Jess been vacuuming? Regardless of what her unconscious body had done,
her conscious one was screaming for attention. Now. Closing her eyes and bracing herself on the counter with her free hand, she easily slid three fingers into her canal, desperately pumping her hips forward and back as she tightened and released her muscles around her digits. All the while, the vacuum’s buzz swirled around her, and she imagined its massive sucking action pulling at her, burying its throbbing hose deep inside her …
Biting her lips together to stop from crying out, she completed what she hadn’t been able to accomplish the night before. After the trembling ceased, she slowly opened her eyes to see her face staring back through the mirror. She was flushed from the glorious spasms, but the longer she looked, the lower her jaw fell and the wider her eyes opened, aghast at her utter loss of control. Apparently, electronic vibrations had become her personal crack.
Chapter Twelve
“This is amazing.” Trish gushed as her eyes roved over the towering, ivory expanse of the Field Museum’s central court. It had been transformed from its daytime, open-to-the-public appearance. Flickering tea lights on small, round cocktail tables now surrounded the giant, stretched-skin elephants and Sue the infamous Tyrannosaurus. Evergreen wreaths and flowing red ribbons adorned each of the looming pillars. On a raised stage to the right of the dino, a string quartet sent classical notes floating down upon the impeccably dressed guests who mingled amid the natural treasures. “Remind me to never ever encourage you to date a real man again.”
Christmas was less than two weeks away, and Lyssa hadn’t received so much as an emoticon from Keith since Thanksgiving. After berating herself for letting his text awaken thoughts of again engaging in real-life romance, she reaffirmed her commitment to electronic men. Though after the vacuum cleaner incident, she’d added some addiction-warding rules, like no masturbating on Sunday and a minimum of thirty-six hours between sessions … except for special occasions to be liberally defined at Lyssa’s discretion. She’d also added a clause that forbid fantasizing about anyone she knew in real life—such a thing only encouraged futile, foolish hope.
With the rules in place, she was sure she could make her boycott of real men work. Thus, Trish was her date to the annual Sauramon Industries Christmas party. Sauramon was one of Fox & Keaton’s biggest clients, and every year the company extended an invitation to twenty F&K employees, hand-picked by Henry Beecher. Lyssa didn’t work on the account, but this year Beecher gave her an invite as a reward for working so hard for DH. Hayden and his date, Sabine, were somewhere in the chattering crowd too.
The girls grabbed glasses of spiced Gewürztraminer from a passing tray and wandered into the Nature Walk. While they perused the preserved and authentically posed collection of animals, Trish announced that her apartment’s lease was up in a couple of months, and Kurt had asked her to move in with him instead of re-signing it.
“That’s so exciting!” Lyssa said.
“I guess, but … I don’t know.”
“Not ready to take that step?”
“We haven’t even been dating a full two years yet.”
“But you told me you knew you two were going to end up together months ago. If he’s willing to commit … ”
“Commit to letting me share living expenses for a while.”
“Do you want more than that?”
Trish shrugged.
“If he asked you to marry him right now, would you say yes?”
“Right now? No.”
“But someday?”
“Yeah, someday.” Trish stopped in front of a snow-filled forest containing dead deer in various positions of lifelike activity. “This place used to freak me out when I was a kid. Like the animals were still alive and trapped in these cases, frozen in position by an evil spell.”
“I always thought of it like a perfect zoo with all the animals posing like you always hope they will when you want to take a picture, but they never do.” After a few silent moments of admiring the idealistic, stationary setting, Lyssa asked, “What are you going to tell him?”
“Well, I’ve got two months to think about that. Can we get out of here? I’m getting the heebie-jeebies.”
They moved on to the Hall of Gems, and Lyssa let the subject drop. While she stared into the face of the Sun God Opal, she recognized the catlike movement of a svelte figure in her peripheral vision and glanced over. It was Roni Wexman, looking beyond stunning in a crimson satin sheath dress.
“Hi,” Lyssa said, catching the portfolio manager’s attention. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Roni looked at her and gave a nod of greeting, but the intangible veil clouding her expression indicated that she had no idea who she was saying hello to.
“I’m Lyssa Bates from Fox and Keaton. I visited your offices in October with Hayden King for the Delicious Hawaii account.”
“Of course. I’m so sorry. Terrible with faces.”
“It’s okay. I don’t usually wear an up-do and dangly, crystal earrings to business meetings, so I’m sure I’d be hard to recognize.” That was not to mention her black, cap-sleeved dress with a flared skirt ending just above her knees. “Do you manage money for Sauramon?”
“Yes. After several months of courting, we finally got the account.” Roni’s eyes drifted away from Lyssa and flicked over the collection of guests beyond her. “It was very nice to see you again. Enjoy the party.”
As Lyssa watched Roni slink away, she considered that Hayden would be even more surprised than she was by the appearance of the Aphrodite from Atlanta, especially with Sabine on his arm. She and Trish returned to the main hall and discovered that the string quartet had been replaced by a DJ. The lighting had been dimmed to a sultry level, bathing the massive court in geometric patterns cast by green and red lights.
Lyssa spotted Hayden and Sabine near the dance floor and brought Trish over to make introductions, silently praying that her friend wouldn’t make any reference to Delicious Hayden. She didn’t. When both she and Sabine seemed to be distracted by mutual admiration of each other’s dresses, Lyssa purposefully trapped Hayden’s gaze, widening her eyes in hopes of somehow conveying that he better be careful.
He entirely missed the delicacy of the situation. “What’s wrong with you, Bates?”
Letting out a nervous laugh, she said, “Nothing more than the usual.”
A few moments later, Sabine bent to examine the elegant velvet bow at Trish’s hip, and Lyssa used the opportunity to shoot him more obvious daggers over his girlfriend’s backless dress. He narrowed his eyes, his brow furrowing a touch. When Sabine straightened, he said to her, “Would you mind if I took a spin on the dance floor with my partner? I think she needs a little help loosening up.”
“Fine with me,” Sabine said. “But don’t tire him out—I have plans for him in a dark corner of the museum later.” She waggled her eyebrows and winked at Lyssa before giving her date a peck on the lips.
On the dance floor, Lyssa followed Hayden’s lead to the soothing baritone of Bing Crosby … or was it Dean Martin? She was never sure.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Roni’s here,” she murmured into his ear as they swayed.
“And … ?”
“And … you knew?”
“Of course I did. She texted me last week.”
“Yet you still brought Sabine?”
“I’d already asked her.”
“So Roni’s cool?”
“The woman is the epitome of discreet.” He guided Lyssa expertly through a spin. “And she knows good things come to those who wait. She’ll be getting her reward come midnight.” He held her lightly against his chest with her back to him before spinning her to face him again. As she came around, his beautiful eyes swept over her. “You look very pretty in a dress, by the way. You should wear them more often.”
“So I can attract philanderers like you?”
“I believe the appropriate response is ‘thank you,’ but who are you calling a philanderer? I’ve never told either woman I’m not seeing anyone
else.”
She frowned as they swayed.
“Sorry, honey bunches, not all of us can be as perfect as Andre Agassi.”
“He’s hardly perfect.”
“No?” His raised eyebrow indicated more than a passing curiosity.
“Sometimes he runs out of batteries.”
Hayden laughed and spun her around again. “So the crazy eyes you were making back there—that was to warn me about the possibility of worlds colliding?”
“Yep.”
“Even though you don’t approve? Shouldn’t you want me to get caught?”
“Nah—I don’t want my partner getting impaled in the middle of a big project.” She winked and he smiled, pulling her close and holding her there as he lightly rocked to the rhythm.
He smelled so good. He always did. His mouth was close enough that she felt his breath tickle her ear when he said, “I wish you’d reconsider coming with all of us to Jackson Hole over New Year’s. We’ve got an extra room.”
By “all of us” he meant three couples, and Lyssa wasn’t interested in being the seventh wheel. “I told you, I don’t ski.”
“I could teach you.”
“I’ll be at my parents’ until the twenty-seventh, and after the travel schedule you and I have been keeping up, I want to stay home for as long as I can after I get back. I’m sure my dwindling bank account will thank me for declining.”
The last notes of the song stretched out, overlapping with the peppier beat of a new one. Lyssa let her arms slide off of him and turned to leave the dance floor but felt Hayden’s fingers lace with hers, holding her back. “Not yet. They’re playing our song.”
She paused, recognizing the tune she and Hayden had goofed off to in Texas, only this time the song was in the way Hall and Oates meant it to be heard. “Oh no, I am not doing the swim or the lawnmower in this dress!”
“You don’t have to. Come on, dance with me.” He moved his hands to her waist to keep her there, then lifted an arm to motion Sabine and Trish to join them. The girls came, and they danced as a foursome, but it was always Lyssa Hayden lip-synched to at the chorus. For the first time, she was glad they’d shared that kiss because it had led to him making his intentions toward her—or rather his lack thereof—crystal clear. Without that confirmation, she might have let his attentions give her a glimmer of futile, foolish hope for something more.