by Ashley Logan
“How noble,” Gina says, giving Serge a wink. “Now that I know that, I would have assumed you two met doing charity work at the Athletic League, or the Rec, or something. Serge is always out running with those kids and teaching them how to catch and stuff.”
“We did actually run into each other at the Rec before we knew we did those things,” Serge says, still smiling at me like I’m something to be proud of. “Violet runs a sort of dance-therapy class where kids use dance to express themselves.”
“That sounds like fun! I wish I’d had something like that when I was a kid,” Gina says without any detectable note of sarcasm. Relaxing a little, I smile.
“The kids seem to enjoy it, anyway.” Rolling a pickle in a slice of salami, I pause before eating it. “So, you guys all met at work, huh?”
Rick smiles. “Buffalo’s a small town, really. Gina and Sadie were friends since grade school, and grew up in the same neighborhood. I was one suburb over. And Serge and I actually shared a few classes in college. By the time we were working in the same loop, we’d seen each other around the place. Small world. Oh,” he says, paling as he realizes his mistake. “Sadie was -”
“I know who Sadie was,” I say lightly, letting him off the hook. Checking Serge, I find him watching me carefully. “That does make Buffalo seem pretty small.”
“Are you from here in town, Violet?” Gina asks, watching Serge as she takes a gulp of wine.
Turning back to Serge, I can’t help but smile at his honest, friendly face. “No, I just wanted to live somewhere real. Buffalo struck me as a pretty real place.”
“You make it sound as if you’ve lived a life of fantasy,” Rick says, laughing as he watches Gina out of the corner of his eye.
Blushing a little at my unguarded words, I take a sip of beer to give myself time to think. “Not a fantasy, no. Just a false reality I wasn’t willing to live in anymore.”
Gina studies me, her interest piqued. “Sounds mysterious.”
Saved by the oven timer, I breathe a sigh of relief as she takes a quick drink of her wine and rushes to the kitchen.
Rubbing my sweaty palms down my jeans, I wish I could duck under the table to hide from Rick’s scrutiny. The last thing I need is an interrogation from a lawyer about a past I don’t want to share. Serge shuffles his chair closer, taking my hand in his.
“So, Rick, been out on the green lately?”
I am immediately grateful as Rick’s eyes move to Serge.
“Not as often as I’d like. I’ve been pulling some hefty hours at the firm and what with Gina being unwell and all, I haven’t had the chance. Soon enough it’ll be ski season and I’ll have to wait for next year.”
“Ta-Dah!” Gina returns with a herbed and spiced, roasted beef tenderloin surrounded by perfectly glazed vegetables and garnished with fresh green herbs.
My mouth starts watering at the sight. “That looks amazing, Gina. Where did you learn to cook?”
“Well, thank you, Violet. My Mom taught me. She’s from a long line of culinary geniuses,” Gina says proudly. “Just about broke her heart when I told her I was joining the force. Not that she had high hopes of me being some sought-after chef or anything,” she adds quickly. “Just wanted me equipped to pull in a good husband and all that jazz that mothers sometimes seem to think important.”
Laughing, I nod in agreement. “Mothers. Well it seems to have worked,” I say, raising my water glass to Rick. “And I’m certainly looking forward to benefiting from your expertise. If the smell is anything to go by, I’m guessing seconds will be in order.”
Rick smiles graciously at the compliment, and kisses Gina before carving the tenderloin. “Your kitchen magic sure worked on me, baby.” He nods to my plate. “Guests first.”
Raising my plate to be filled, I wink at Serge. “A little more please. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
“What time did you eat breakfast?” Serge asks, laughing already. “Two?”
“I’ll have you know it was closer to three,” I fire back at him. “I would have eaten before rehearsal but I overslept,” I explain when his expression switches from playful to concerned.
“What is it you’re rehearsing for?” Gina asks, as I sneak a potato into my mouth. Caught in the spotlight, I try to chew, but wind up regretting my greedy mistake. Fanning my mouth, I gasp in air to cool the hot potato as Serge chuckles.
“Violet’s involved in the GlamSlam. She and her friends are both supporting and performing in the event.”
“Oh, wow. Great. We’ll get a chance to see you in action,” Gina says, making eyebrows at Rick, who looks a little stunned as his eyes dart between me and Gina.
“We will?”
“I already got tickets. I did tell you.”
“Oh. O-oh. Yes. Yes, now I remember,” he says, turning quite red. “Sorry, I guess my mind was elsewhere. Of course. The tickets. To GlamSlam,” he says firmly, as if proving he was in fact listening. “Say, I hear they have quite a few of the ‘upper echelon’ interested in attending.”
Nodding, I take a sip of water to wash down my burning mouthful.
“Prez has been pounding both the pavement and the keyboard to drum up support, so here’s hoping the high rollers take the bait and drop some cash on the night.” Having regained my powers of speech, I smile apologetically for having eaten out of turn.
Dinner continues politely and I start warming a little to Gina. She’s actually quite sweet, though a little scary in an authoritative kind of way, which I guess is beneficial, in her line of business. They all seem to have a lot of history, but I’m never made to feel excluded.
“Can I get you another drink, Violet?
“Please, call me Vi. And no, thanks, I’m fine with the water on the table. But I’d love another serving of beef, if that’s alright? I would maybe be thinking about marrying you if you weren’t already taken, Gina - it’s delicious.”
“Well how can I deny you now?” she says, elbowing Rick to serve me more. His mouth still full, Serge grins without teeth, and begins to raise his plate too.
Gina throws an eyebrow at him in an ‘are you serious’ kind of way and Serge hesitates. Lowering his plate back down, he chews slowly.
His whole posture changes as his shoulders slump and he struggles to maintain a smile. “It is very good, but maybe I’ll save room for dessert. Is it low calorie?”
The whole interaction sours my mood. Now enraged, I rest a hand on his thigh. “You should have more if you’re hungry, Serge. You’ll need to keep your energy up for dessert.” His eyes lock on mine and he visibly swallows when I tighten my grip on his thigh. His eyes drop to my hand and the whole table notices.
Perfect.
Clearing my throat, I give one more squeeze before returning to my meal. Laughing under his breath, Rick serves another healthy portion onto Serge’s plate. With a small noise, Gina excuses herself to check on dessert.
“Need any help?” I ask, knowing she’ll reject it.
“You two keep eating. I’ll go,” Rick offers with another of his over-stated smiles.
When they’ve both left the room, Serge turns to me. “What was that?”
“You wanted more. You can have more. You’re not obese, Serge; you keep in great shape. If anything you’re over-exercising and under-eating.”
“Is that your medical opinion?” he asks bluntly in hushed tones as he glances at the closed kitchen door.
Setting down my knife and fork, I turn to face him. “Why are you angry at me? Don’t think I didn’t notice what just happened. I saw it. And I didn’t like it.”
“Is that why you made a fake pass at me? Publicly?”
“Who said it was fake? If I wasn’t sitting here in my un-sexiest clothes, bothering to work out your relationships because I care about how they’re impacting you, I probably would have been throwing myself at you. Or dancing by myself down in the empty club trying to work out why you didn’t want me. I’ve been pretty clear about what you’re doing to m
e, Serge. And yes, I did it publicly to get a response. I was angry that you were hurting. It was immature, but I am like twelve, so cut me some slack.”
Pushing up from the table, I scrape my chair back to leave. Serge stands too, taking my hand to stay me.
“Thank you,” he says into my hair as he pulls me into a hug. “For caring. But I can fight my own battles; even the ones against myself. And thank you for coming with me,” he continues, kissing my forehead and resting his cheek there. “For your information, you would not be dancing alone down in the club. Will you please sit and finish the meal with me? I don’t have many friends as it is, and I’m pretty sure these ones would consider it pretty rude if we left now, but we will, if that’s what you want to do.”
I don’t know how to respond to that with words, so I just sit back down. Serge sits too and pulls my chair closer to his until our legs are touching. Giving a nod of approval, he picks up his knife and fork and continues to eat. I do the same.
We’ve both finished when Rick and Gina finally reappear. Gina takes one look at how close we’re sitting and averts her eyes completely.
We’re not the only ones getting that treatment though. Gina’s intentional avoidance of eye contact with Rick and her stiff body language suggests that more was going on in the kitchen than the supervision of dessert, but it doesn’t take them long to drop back into the practiced facade of entertainers.
Serge and I eat our beautifully decorated flan while Rick tells us about his brother’s yacht and Gina’s sister’s children.
“Do you have family, Violet?” Gina asks, moving food around her plate without eating.
“No siblings, no. That was easier for my mother and step-father. They travel a lot.”
“Oh.” Yes, that’s about the response I was expecting.
“Do you still see your father?”
Damn.
I sit up a little straighter in my chair and Serge takes my hand.
The man has good instincts.
Clearing the lump from my throat, I give a half shrug. “Every year on his birthday. At the cemetery. He died of cancer when I was nine.” Clearing my throat again, I find my glass empty. “Excuse me. I’ll just get some water.”
Walking probably too fast, I escape to the kitchen. Looking up to keep the tears at bay, I put a hand under the running water and hold it to the back of my neck. I hear the door close behind me and take a breath. “I’m fine. I just never get used to talking about it. I’ll be right out.” Filling my glass, I down the water with a shaky hand.
Serge puts his hand over mine to steady the glass as I lower it. “I’m sorry, Violet.” Turning me into his arms, he holds me until the shaking subsides. Looking down, he raises my face to his and runs a thumb across my cheek to collect a lone tear. His eyes are so intensely deep that once I’m drawn into them, I find myself unable to pull away.
Gently kissing the outer corner of my eye, where the tear came from, he plants several more across my face. Pressing his forehead to mine, he adjusts his arms to make me feel even more held. Leaning into him I sigh and feel all resistance leave my body as I melt into him, needing this.
Slowly his hands begin to move over my back in soothing waves and he leans me back so he can see my face. Reaching up, I pull his mouth to mine, enticing his tongue to join mine. Hungrily, I press forward, wanting more; needing more. Serge returns the kiss in earnest.
Picking me up easily, he sets me on the kitchen counter and nestles himself between my legs as his hand works into my hair. My hands fist in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him in closer as one of his hands runs up and down my leg.
Coming into contact with the hole in my jeans, he hooks it with a finger and pulls, splitting the denim more. The second his fingers hit the skin on my thigh, my insides clench and I moan against his lips. Breaking away, I gasp for breath. “Serge.”
“Yeah,” he whispers back.
“Take me home.”
“Mine or yours?”
“Yours.”
Sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, he looks around the kitchen and seems to shake himself out of a daze. Looking me over, he nods. Collecting my hips into him, he pulls me from the counter. Holding me against him a while, he lets my body drag down his until my feet reach the floor, then taking my hand, he pulls me behind him as we head back to the dining room.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
SERGE
Dirty old man. Dirty old man.
He was thinking it. They would too.
Serge looked back at Vi as he led her to the kitchen door. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen from his kiss and as she panted her breasts nodded to him through her thin t-shirt. Her eyes stayed on his, filled with trust and hunger. He was hungry too.
Starving.
Adjusting his jeans, he pushed out the door. If he rushed the goodbyes, he wouldn’t have to think about the consequences.
“Thanks for the lovely evening, guys, but I really need to get Vi home before she turns into a pumpkin.”
Shaking Rick’s hand, he kissed Gina on the head as he walked past. She was still in her seat, but she stood as they rushed by. Serge wasn’t stopping.
“Sorry to hustle. It’s nothing anyone said, we just have to go. Right now. Thanks again, good night!” he called as he pulled Vi down the front steps.
Fishing for his keys, he unlocked the car and opened Vi’s door for her. Running back around, he jumped into the drivers’ seat and was reversing out to the street as Rick and Gina appeared on the front stoop. Speeding away, he didn’t look back.
The laughter coming from beside him pulled him out of the seriousness of his desperate dash to freedom. Smiling at her, he tried to keep his eyes on the road as she squirmed in her seat.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to decide the size of your backseat.”
“I’m not going to nail you in the backseat like a teenager with no other options, Vi. And it’s not big enough.”
Laughing quietly, she looked out the window and crossed her arms. Her leg jiggled up and down with a ferocity that scared him a little. Reaching across, he stilled her.
“If you don’t keep that leg still I’m going to get caught doing indecent things to you in the street. I’m a cop, Vi. I can’t get caught doing these things.”
She watched him a while, breathing deeply. Eventually, she crossed her legs to keep them still, but her fingers began to fidget with the hole in her jeans.
“Damn you make it hard to watch the road. You think you could be really still and quiet until we’re inside the apartment?” he asked, wishing the distance away. “If I can pretend that you’re not ready and willing in my front seat, I might get us home safely.”
In answer, she clicked on the radio, opened her window and turned away from him. Marvin Gaye filled the space between them, singing ‘Let’s Get It On’.
“That’ll work,” he said with a sigh as he gripped the steering wheel tighter.
Parking below, Serge led her upstairs at pace, not stopping until they stood outside his door breathing hard as he sorted through his keyring for the right key. Violet pressed against him and he groaned.
“I don’t see this lasting very long, Vi.”
“Neither,” she said as he grabbed her hand and pulled her inside, shutting the door. She met his eyes. “I’m thinking two strokes and I’ll be coming hard.”
“Shit, Vi. Don’t talk like that or I’ll come in one!”
Vi snorted in response. Her laughing smile was such an exquisite target for his mouth that he kissed her before he’d planned to. Pulling away as she began to melt under his fingertips, Serge waited for her to open her eyes. “You’re sure?”
“Very. Yes. Please,” she panted, her fingers reaching for his buttons. Helping her, he stripped the shirt from his back as she attacked his belt and undid his fly.
“You,” he said, knocking her hands away. “Arms.”
Violet raised her arms over her head, amusement mixing with th
e hunger in her eyes.
“What?”
Shrugging her eyebrows at him, she winked. “Stick ‘em up.”
Serge shook his head as he chuckled. “You’re such a weirdo,” he said, kissing her on the lips. Her arms wrapped around his neck then traveled down his bare back, making him shiver and reminding him to keep on track. “Vi. Arms.”
Holding them over her head, she waited. Fingering the hem of her t-shirt, he stroked the soft skin of her belly, licking his lips at her sharp intake of breath. Running his hands up her body, he moved her shirt up, tugging it off and throwing it away.
“Fuck.”
Never a bra, and so fucking perfect.
She gasped as he took one taut nipple into his mouth. Sucking and nipping, he palmed her other breast and rolled that nipple under his thumb. Groaning against her breast, he ran his cheek up her skin and kissed down her neck. “You smell amazing and your tits are fucking perfect, Vi.”
Her hard nipples brushed against his bare chest with every breath she took and her hands began to pull him in. Brushing them aside again, he pulled her closer by the waistband of her jeans. Unzipping them, he shoved them downward. Standing on them as they began to bunch at her feet, Serge lifted her out of them, leaving them in the hall as he carried her to his bedroom.
Lying her on his bed, his eyes feasted. “You are a very beautiful woman, Violet Wheeler. Are you still sure?”
Nodding, she kept her eyes on his as she shed her lacy panties. Sinking to his knees, Serge hooked his hands under her knees and pulled her towards him.
“Serge,” she said, a worried look on her face.
“I’ll take good care of you, Vi. Please let me.” Closing her eyes, she nodded.
Salivating at the thought, Serge bent to her delicate folds and tasted her, moaning at how wet she was. His tongue dove deeper as she opened to him. Licking upward, he circled her sweet clit, before sucking it into his mouth. Her body rose off the bed as she cried out, clutching the sheets in her fists. She whimpered quietly as he growled and licked her twitching sex until the contractions subsided. He’d never known a woman to come so quickly and it drove him wild to think it was because of him.