by Fifi Flowers
Chapter Seven
Mitzi
We agreed on meeting at Jack’s place—located on a canal in Venice Beach—since he was closer to the airport. He had his Rover out in the driveway so I that could pull my car into his garage for safe keeping.
“You’re bringing your surfboard?” I guess they did surf in the Mediterranean Sea. It seemed like they surfed everywhere, according to Jack, even at a place in the middle of the ocean near Bali, I think.
“I can’t leave it attached to the top of my car. There’s a beach close by. While you’re getting your beauty sleep, I will be catching a few waves.” I loved the way he smiled at me with a playful, naughty boy grin—so sexy!
He seemed to miss my point as I had wondered why he had it on his vehicle to begin with and why we weren’t having someone drive us to the airport in the first place—guess I had my answer. I don’t remember ever seeing town cars or limos with surf racks attached to them.
Loaded up, speed racer sprinted to the airport extended stay parking lot in record time, no chance of being late. I hated to be late but I hated his driving even more. I swear that he drove even faster than usual since we had gone to NASCAR. It was like he was honing his racing skills to hit the race circuit. I was just thankful that he hadn’t planned for us to go on a road trip.
Checked in, luggage tagged, and off on a conveyor belt, Jack insisted we hang out in an airport lounge rather than the courtesy lounge we belonged to through the airlines. “Let’s shake things up a bit,” were his words as he had me follow him to a couple of seats near a window that looked out to the planes getting ready for passengers. Leaving him briefly, I went over to the gift shop to buy some essentials for our plane trip, beside my tablet, sketch pad, and a box of colored pencils. Not sure about reception on the plane or on the Côte d’Azur without finding a good nearby Wi-Fi spot, I decided to buy a few magazines as well.
Returning to Jack, I took a seat and pulled out my purchases to put them into my bag, for some reason the store insisted on putting everything in the bag rather than my own fabulous huge stylish handbag that I owed Singer for big time.
“What’s with the big stack of magazines? Can’t you look them up on your tablet?” Jack asked as I shoved them into my bag as plates of food arrived—good thing—I didn’t want anything damaging them.
“You mentioned earlier about Wi-Fi being a problem. Besides I want physical copies of you!” I said, digging one back out for a second, flipping it around, and flashing it in his direction. He was in full color on the back. Not letting him touch it with his greasy fingers as he reached for it, I quickly stored it away. “No way. They will be fab to place on tables near our line in the showroom for Market Week.”
“They?!” Was he fishing for compliments? Playing dumb with his cute and oh so sexy expression.
“Yes, you did a big photoshoot. Ring a bell?” I loved the way he tilted his head to the side and looked at me as if he was studying my face, which I was sure he was not. Or just staring at me, trying to analyze and make sense of my words. “Willow, from Woodland and Associates PR, emailed me the list of magazines our ads would be in and a couple articles.”
Before Jack could reply with one of his usual witty remarks, we heard a female voice behind us. “Oh, wow! You’re him!” We turned to see a young woman holding up the back of a different magazine then the one I showed him. Right there in her hands was Jack sexily displayed on the back. “Oh my God! Will you sign my copy… please?”
“Sure,” Jack answered, wearing a big smile. “Do you have a pen?”
“I’ve got one,” I announced, diving my hand to the bottom of my bag for my box of pens and produced a sharpie.
What a charmer he was, asking for her name, making sure he spelled it correctly. Not only did he sign her mag, he took a selfie with her (his first fan), and then handed me back my pen wiggling it playfully in front of my face with a grin. I nearly growled thinking about him drawing on my feet with one.
I pushed the marker back toward him. “I think you might hold on to that, I see quite a few copies of that issue of People mag floating around this bar.” I motioned my hand in a circular, waving pattern. “Make sure you don’t have food in your teeth or Buffalo sauce on your face.” Then I laughed, dipping another boneless wing into the yummy, million calorie bleu cheese dressing. I loved how Jack always knew what to order for me. I loved wings but they were so messy—boneless were the easiest option in public. He was so perfect for me, if only he were true boyfriend… lover… husband material, I could see spending the rest of my life with him in a less than professional fashion.
“What has you so giddy?” His question led me to believe that I was sitting across from him with a goofy look on my face, and hopefully not one with sauce on it. What did I tell him? How wonderful he was? How much I loved him… as a friend, of course… or just talk about what I anticipated on our vacation? I was uncertain about saying too much about the vacation because he was in charge and I was to go with the flow. Be open to new things.
Could he maybe be open to new things? Like my body naked with his muscular one, slipping and sliding—slick from delicious smelly French suntan oil—on silky, high count sheets. His mouth linked with mine engaging in a battle of tongues mimicking our bodies seeking for the ultimate relief… oh yeah!
“Oh yeah, what?” My eyes popped open to see a confused looking Jack staring at me. I hadn’t realized that I had spoken out loud nor that I had closed my eyes to picture my fantasy.
“Meditation.” Such bullshit and by the look on his face, he wasn’t buying it either. I was too high strung for yoga and preferred lots of cardio. “Maybe we should get massages.” Damn! Wrong thing to say, he knew me better.
“Yes, a massage for you because that went so well last time. You hated the girl telling you to relax the whole time and you complained that you couldn’t get the oil out of your hair completely after several shampoos.” He had a smug look that was so sexy and annoying at the same time—I hated and loved how well he knew me as it was hard to get away with spewing untruths to him.
“Can’t you just let me be? I’m on vacation. I don’t have to be practical or logical about anything. No real business, just inspiration, free thinking. You can tear me apart and reconstruct me once our getaway ends. Let go! Live a little! Be free!” I threw my arms up and kicked one freshly waxed leg in the air attached to an adorable turquoise sandal from a Fritzi Mitzi collection from two summers ago.
“Who are you?” He laughed at me. “You look a whole lot like a girl I know that likes to plan out everything.” His eyebrow raised. “You can’t tell me that you don’t have at least your outfits lined up and everything that coordinates with them?” He sat back with his usual ale and waited for me to answer without fibbing.
“Someone else is in charge of my itinerary so while I did bring fab outfits… extra outfits, in fact, I have no idea which day I will wear each one. Hopefully, my cruise director will give me ample time so that I am not late for my excursions.” I smirked at him and finished my bottle of water—hydration before champagne on our flight. I did know that we were flying first class thanks to all of our air miles from business trips as we were on planes at least every other month.
“They called our flight, cover your eyes, and I will guide you to the gate,” he said, reaching for my bag and putting the strap on his shoulder. “Holy shit, you must be lifting a lot of weight these days to lug this thing.”
“Yep, cardio and weights are essential to my beauty regime in more ways than one. It takes a lot of work to look this good.” I laughed, grasping his muscular arm, and letting him lead the way.
Chapter Eight
Jack
I knew it took absolutely no work for Mitzi to be beautiful as I had seen her first thing in the morning with no makeup and her hair not perfectly styled into place. The clothes and stuff she put together to complete her daily look was a whole other story. I was a bit shocked by her outfit of tight designer torn jeans
and a dark pink and white striped blouse that was sexy as hell the way the top of it fell off her shoulders and seemed to be held up thanks to her bodacious tatas. The ties at the end of her sleeves sparked visions of tying her to the antique bedposts in the room I had reserved for our first night’s stay.
“Why are you grinning?” Mitzi asked once we were fastened into our seats. “I was curious how that top stays up and I was wondering if the rest of your wardrobe is as casual and alluring as your traveling clothes?” She looked at me as if I had lost my mind, like I didn’t know her at all.
“Alluring?” She shook her head. “Of course, not. These jeans are stretchy and comfortable. I have packed my bags full of resort wear. As soon as we get to the resort, I need my first wardrobe change. I’m thinking… maybe a loose dress.”
“You should’ve worn a dress now, we could’ve joined the mile high club.”
“Yeah, right.” She elbowed me in the gut.
“Your top is loose and open at the bottom. I could easily slip my hand up and cop a feel.” I laughed. I couldn’t help it, it had me thinking about attacking her, and my guy was squirming in my jeans.
“You could end up slapped too… and it wouldn’t be that easy, I have a strapless bra on to hold the girls up.” I had a hard time not cracking up as we both referred to our anatomy as guy and girls and how excited my guy would be to be sliding between her girls.
Fortunately or unfortunately, Mitzi distracted me with some crazy movie on her tablet. She had come completely prepared, of course, with an adapter for two sets of headphones for my listening pleasure as well. Between laughing, drinking, and eating with her, the plane ride was quick and before I knew it… the moment of truth or semi-truth was upon us.
“Charleston? We’re landing in Charleston, South Carolina? Since when has it become a stopover before going on to France? Some special rate?”
“Not exactly.”
“Something tells me that we are not going to Monte Carlo?”
Monte Carlo?! When did I ever give her that idea? Shit! Things might go the way Frank had predicted all along. Suddenly, I was ready to pull out my credit card and book us on a flight to France for the following morning.
“Southern plantation excursion? I get to pretend to be a southern bell?”
“Not exactly.”
I couldn’t believe all of the different scenarios she came up with involving Charleston. I knew almost nothing about the city until I needed to research it to add a little glamorous zing to our vacation before we found ourselves relaxing in the great outdoors. When she mentioned a few things like a carriage tour that went through Charleston’s historical downtown that I had already set up, I was feeling much better, and patting myself on the back.
First thing was to get our luggage and get our belongings placed in our room at 86 Cannon, a historical single house also known as The Poinsette House built in 1862 which was turned into a bed and breakfast with a European flair. That was as close to Europe as Mitzi was going to get on our vacation. She loved the place with its open-air piazzas, or porches as I called them, along with the decor in our room; the high ceilings, the king-size poster bed, the original fireplace, and the spacious marble bathroom—it met all of her high expectations. I almost had a hard time getting her to leave the place, but with a little coaxing, she slipped into a proper dress and made me change into a button down shirt to go with my chino shorts and casual leather slip-on loafers.
Not wanting to argue, I did as she asked, and we took to the streets to meet the horse that would be taking us to see historical mansions, gardens, and churches in the residential area. Mitzi loved every minute and even more of the city as we checked out Rainbow Row, colorful Georgia row houses, and a pineapple fountain at Waterfront Park. That pineapple inspired Mitzi to shop at the Charleston City Market buying Banana & Caviar bags and pineapple for her fashionista girls back home—thankfully she had the shops ship everything to our studio, except for one of the bags she kept for herself. She mentioned using it for the beach when I went surfing. I hadn’t planned on taking her, but maybe one day I would surf a bit later than usual, I thought to myself. It might be fun to have her cheering me on from the shore. I laughed imagining her waving to me wearing a little bikini and a big sun hat.
“Why do I have a feeling you are laughing at my expense?” Busted!
“Your shopping habits,” I lied. “Let’s go eat something light before we continue on to the battleground. I have dinner reservations someplace fancy so think sandwich or salad for now.” I pulled her away from the shops which she could’ve stayed in for hours more.
“Battlegrounds?” She asked as we found a spot in a place called Artisan Meat Share that smelled delicious.
“I kind of wanted to try Cru Café. I saw it in a magazine that showed yummy pictures,” she said, pursing her lips so cutely. “But this looks incredible… oh my God, did you see that sandwich just go by? We need to find out what that was.”
I shook my head, she was always staring at other people’s food. “We can go there tomorrow for lunch after we check out…”
“Check out? Where are we going?” Shit! Me and my big mouth. “Is that why we are rushing to see everything?” She was staring at me and I didn’t want to lie, so I changed the subject.
It was easy, because she was ready to order, and then I segued right into talking about Fort Sumter which we went to right after our delicious sandwich feast where we shared two different varieties. Surprisingly enough, Mitzi really enjoyed the tour—I never knew she was so into history. It had me thinking that maybe the resort would turn out well too. I just hoped that her clothing was a little more low key than the going-to-fancy-tea number she had on or she was sure to get even more glances in her direction at our final destination.
“Wow! This fort location would make a great site for a resort or family summer home along the harbor. No wonder a fight broke out here between the North and South, I’d fight for it too.” She giggled and continued to talk about wearing all white clothing and playing lawn croquet.
“Would you keep the cannon as a conversation piece?” I asked and she smiled up at me, rubbing my arm. Zing! That was the usual reaction I felt when our skin connected. If I ever got her where I wanted her, it would probably be over within seconds or the excitement alone might cause me to have a heart attack.
“The guy with the biggest cannon wins… isn’t that what they say?” She snorted and I told her that it was the dumbest thing I’d ever heard. That made her hysterical and she had tears of laughter streaming down her face. Shaking my head, we left before we interrupted a guided tour coming up behind us.
Back to the downtown area, we strolled around and got a better look at some of the gardens we had seen from the buggy. “I love that tropical smell.” I took a deep breath.
“Gardenia. That’s why I bought those little blue pots of fragrance. I can’t wait to wake up to that smell in my bedroom at home.” I would like to smell it too, waking up close to her every morning.
I always missed her for several mornings after we had returned from a business trip. I loved sharing a bed with her and I was happy that she didn’t mind that I had only booked one room at the boutique inn. Of course, we would not be in the room long and when we got to the resort we had separate rooms—dumb move on my part. In reality, we were going to be longer than our usual couple-day trips and who knew, if she got upset about my selection—separates were probably best. I had to push those thoughts out of my head and just enjoy the calm before the possible storm.
Chapter Nine
Mitzi
“I forgive you for not taking me to Monte Carlo,” I told Jack as we were seated in a magnificent garden for dinner. When I kept saying we were going to paradise, I was so right. Charleston is beautiful and so full of history. I loved to talk about frilly fashion and silly things when Jack got so serious about learning our country’s history.
Dinner at Circa 1886 was unbelievable from the minute we stepped through
the garden entrance and were seated with the charming Wentworth Mansion grounds in the backdrop, all the way to the end of our meal. I couldn’t even properly describe what we indulged in as Jack had set us up for a special five course meal that featured spins on classic Southern dishes according to the chef along with wine pairings. It was a good thing that we were not driving since we even started with a couple of their signature cocktails to begin with, also quite tasty too! It was the first time in forever that we had our own plates of fun and I wasn’t quite sure I liked that. I missed the intimacy of leaning close and sometimes clanking forks as we both reached for a morsel of food on a shared plate and the laughter that followed. I also didn’t like the wasting of gourmet offerings as I did not finish each course put before me, a couple of bites would’ve been enough. Not because they weren’t absolutely delicious but I’m just not a big eater and Jack usually finishes most of what I leave behind.
“What did you think? Did you get the feeling of being back in time?” Jack asked as we headed back to our room, strolling a bit before calling for a ride.
“It was a great dining experience, so fashionable—my dress and accessories were perfect. I knew I was right to pack some high couture casual gowns.” I listened to him chuckle and wrapped my arms around his muscular one. “You looked very handsome in your dress pants, shirt, and casual loafers, those were a good investment.” I loved that he knew just where to take me. He had picked the perfect vacation getaway for us.
“Don’t start talking about shoes. Tonight is just about us. Tomorrow we can dig in to business ideas. Not now. Let’s just enjoy the sights, smells, and sounds of Charleston before we head to bed. We need to rise early to finish sightseeing and tasting before we move on. And back to talking about us… you look gorgeous as always.”