I recalled her standing before me blindfolded. I thought about her pink skin after I’d flogged her gorgeous back. I lost it when I remembered her ass pointed at me. She was so willing in all things. She trusted me. I imagined taking her ass with my cock. My grip tightened, quickened and I exploded with a roar.
Feeling somewhat relieved, and a little more ready for sleep, I finished my shower, dried off, and slipped into the crisp cotton sheets. I filled my thoughts with knowing that tomorrow I’d see her. Tomorrow would be my reward. Tomorrow, my heart would start to repair. There was no way she was going to say no to me. Just as I knew she trusted me, I had to trust that our connection was unbreakable.
I must have been more tired than I realized because I woke up at nine the next morning. It was already time for lunch back in New York. I got out of bed and was so tense, I decided to hit the hotel’s gym after a light bite in the restaurant. It’d been days since I’d worked out. Everyone must have been out touring the local vineyards, because the gym was empty. That was fine by me. I put myself through a punishing routine. Two hours later, feeling invigorated, I headed back to my room, and showered for my reunion with my heart.
Opting for California casual, I dressed in khakis and a polo. I pulled up the email from Becca with Beth’s address, and plugged it into the car’s GPS. Around one in the afternoon, I pulled up to her house and parked across the street. The house was not as I imagined. Somehow I had pictured a farm style house, like the place in Colorado where I’d first seen her. But there wasn’t a swing in the front yard tree. There was a large wrap around porch, but it was precisely arranged, not the warm collection of her childhood home. This was a house, not a home.
This house was new. And large. Current stylings. Nothing old world. A ranch. The only thing that said “Elizabeth” on this home, in my opinion, was the elegant wreath on the front door. Otherwise, it was cold. Yes, the home had a lovely view of vineyards, and I hoped there was a large deck off the back so Beth could sit and enjoy it, because the front was unbelievably prim and lacking in personality.
I turned off the ignition, climbed out of the car, and walked up to the front door. Taking a few cleansing breaths, and wiping my sweaty hands on my pants, I rang the doorbell, then knocked a few times for good measure. Waiting for her to open the door, I felt like a high school kid picking up his girlfriend for a first date.
I ran through my number one choice of opening lines that I was going to use, but then I started to go through the other opening lines I’d come up with on the drive. Which was the right approach? Declare that I love her and tell her I’m fighting for her? Or do I take the casual approach, that I happen to be in town for business? What if someone else answers, like her asshat husband? God, I hope not. I truly feared that if he answered, I might punch him in the face.
Peeking in the windows, I noted that everything was immaculate, but it also looked as if no one was home. I rang the bell again and checked the time. Had she looked out of the windows and seen me? Was she avoiding me? My heart ached at the possibility.
I pulled out my phone, and pressed speed dial.
“Yeah, boss. What can I do for ya?” Peter answered.
“I need a favor. Remember you were telling me about how you had to track Natasha a few weeks ago using her cellphone to find her and some GPS thing?”
“Yeah, sure. What do you need to know? I found her at the—”
“I don’t need to know where you found her,” I interrupted. “I need to find someone else. How do I do that?”
Peter guided me step-by-step in finding and downloading the app I would need. Then I entered in Beth’s cell phone number and let the app do its thing. I prayed that she had the GPS locator activated on her phone and when my phone vibrated and pinged indicating a successful find, my heart leapt for joy. She wasn’t at home. She was somewhere downtown. I hopped in the rental and initiated the turn-by-turn of the mapping program to get me to where Beth’s phone was.
Twenty-five minutes later, I turned into a parking lot of the Napa Valley Women’s Medical Center and my blood ran cold. Why was she here? Was she okay? I fought every instinct in my body telling me to run to her and hold her. Sit with her and hold her hand while she went through whatever she was going through.
CHAPTER 24
The next hour and half was agony. I tried convincing myself that she was going for a routine visit that women had to do. Did she think she’d gotten some STD while with me and that Southern boy? Well, if she did, it was from him, not me. But Kevin didn’t seem to be the kind of guy that was screwing chicks with STDs or carrying one himself. I might not like the guy, especially the fact that he was with Beth in the biblical way, but I had to be honest. Maybe it was one of those yeast things. I’d heard that too much sex could do that to a woman.
“Nine. But give me ten…please,” I remembered her saying that day she’d come to my home and she begged me to make love to her, then she asked for punishment. Ten pops of the riding crop.
Sitting in my rented car, staring at the door, watching women enter and exit was torture. Every time someone came out, I had to look two or three times to make sure it wasn’t her. A couple of times I’d walked up to the clinic’s door, and one of those times I had my hand on the handle. I was going to barge in and demand to see Beth and know what was wrong. But I didn’t want to embarrass her.
“Please God,” I prayed. “Let Beth be fine.” I sat, and confessed my sins from the past thirty some-odd years.
Finally the door opened and she came out. I didn’t have to look more than once. I knew it was her at in an instant. My heart knew it. My cock knew it. She was as beautiful as ever, wearing a pair of faded jeans and a bright pink top. She held the door and a blonde woman, whom I assumed was Jessica from all that Beth had told me about her best friend from the third grade, came out and the two walked together to a black Lexus SUV. Beth looked fine. Tired, but fine. But her friend looked emotionally worn out. Maybe Beth was here for her friend? That had to be it. Beth was fine. Please. She had to be fine.
Beth opened the door for her friend to get in on the passenger side of the Lexus, but before Beth got into the drivers seat, she glanced at my car. She spotted me before I could duck into my seat. Maybe I wanted her to spot me. I wish I could have read her face. It was like twenty emotions hitting her at one time. Quickly, I got out and stood. Beth stood frozen. I extended my hand for her to take it. She eyed my hand, then searched my eyes. I knew what I was asking was wrong. She had chosen to come back to California. She was out with her friend for some medical reason. And I’d ambushed her.
Then, before I knew it, she was in front of me. My breathing quickened. I could smell her trademark rosemary shampoo and Chanel Mademoiselle perfume. I eyed her mouth. Her tender lips. I wanted to crush my mouth on hers. I wanted to nibble her lip. I wanted to run my hands on her gorgeous neck.
“Are you okay? Please tell me you are okay?” I asked, barely able to make the words.
She nodded and swallowed. “Nice convertible. What are you doing here?”
“I had business in San Francisco this past weekend,” I lied. If she’d only known that I was drunk as shit three days earlier.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she said, her eyes darting all around as she surveyed the parking lot.
“I couldn’t help it, Beth.” Her eyes fluttered closed and she lowered her head.
“I love when you call me that,” she whispered.
I crooked my finger under her chin and tilted her face back to mine. “You are still my breath. And my Beth. You always will be.” I eyed the door of the medical center. “And you are telling the truth? You’re okay?”
“Yes. I’m here with Jessica. She had some tests today, so I drove her,” she said, her voice shaking slightly.
“Is she okay?”
“We’ll know in a few days.” She turned and glanced at her car. “Listen, we’re headed to a late lunch. It was good seeing you. Have a safe flight back to New York.”
“I’m not going back for a few days. Can I see you?”
“Jack,” she sighed.
“I’d like to take you to dinner. There’s a lovely place in Saint Helena. Tra Vigne.”
“I know it,” she giggled and bit her lip, the one I desperately want to suck into my mouth, and then started laughing.
“What is so funny?” I asked.
“It’s on Charter Oak Avenue. An interesting coincidence.” Yes, an interesting coincidence that the restaurant would be on the street with the same name as our hometown.
“Fate,” I said, the desire in my voice evident, even to me. I hoped she heard it. “Tonight. I’ll pick you up at six-thirty.”
“You can’t possibly—”
“Stay away from you. No I can’t,” I finished. “Please. I need to know that you’re okay.”
She didn’t reply right away. She stared deeply into my eyes. I saw what I needed to see. We weren’t over. I had a chance. No, I had more than a chance.
“And what am I supposed to tell Greg? That I’m going to dinner with you?” she asked.
“Tell him you’re going out with an old friend,” I offered. The choice of words was not lost on her. She remembered as well as I did our encounter in the lobby with Kevin.
“I’ll think about it. I’ll text you yes or no. But Jessica is in the car and—” she started.
“Of course. Go. Enjoy lunch. I’ll see you tonight.”
“You’re awfully confident.”
I just smiled. I was confident. Standing next to Beth, I was invincible.
I pulled out ingredients for dinner and poured myself a glass of chardonnay. I had been a lousy lunch date for Jessica. Today was about her. Today, Jess was getting a biopsy due to some abnormalities on her mammogram that her sister, Kimmy had taken her to last Friday. I don’t know who was more terrified, Jess or me. Yet neither of us would let the other know it. We didn’t have to, thirty-five years of friendship is good for that. Jack’s unexpected appearance caught me more than a little off guard, but created a delightful distraction for Jessica. I finally spilled and filled her in on the finale of my New York adventure.
Since I’d returned late Wednesday from my jaunt to New York, Jessica had pumped me for information about all that went on. I kept tight lipped. I couldn’t talk about it. Yes, she was my best friend, but because she was, she saw my struggle and let me have my space.
In short, after leaving Jack’s place Tuesday night, six long days ago, I’ve cried no less than three times a day. I cried that whole Tuesday night, until I passed out at who knows what time. I cried in the cab ride to the airport. I cried half of the flight home. I seriously had no idea I could create so many tears. I started to chant “water my grass,” as Kevin’s abuela phrased it. The grass is always greener where you water it. I had to keep telling myself that over and over. I had to focus and figure out how I was going to water that damn grass named Greg. I thought my idea of surprising him would be fun, spontaneous, and sexy. But, he seemed rather put out and annoyed. Keep trying. Don’t give up. Twenty-four years is a long time.
Last night’s dinner I took a risk.
* * *
“Soooo, you’re quiet,” I said to Greg as he pushed bites of his Chicken Parmesan around his plate. Not that he was usually chatty at dinner, but I would think after a few days in a hotel with his wife, a wife who came back after being gone for three weeks, he might try harder.
I “understood” that Greg was quiet the first night. I’d surprised him and he said he’d not slept much the past couple of nights. I “understood” Friday when he said he was still processing my trip away and the “new” woman I had become. I had been gone for three weeks, and our “reunion” in New York was “different.” I “understood” Saturday when we got home that he was “worn out” from the past few days, although he did comment that this was the second Saturday that he’d missed his round of golf with our neighbor Aaron.
“A lot on my mind, I guess. I was just looking over my inbox. Two new clients that I was supposed to meet last week, and now I have both of those meetings scheduled for tomorrow.” He stuck a bite of chicken in his mouth and started chewing, but his eyes darted to his damn cell phone sitting on the sideboard. Since I got back, I’ve not allowed his cell phone to come to the dinner table. It was one of the things that kept us from communicating. Or at least I thought.
We dined just fine in New York when his cell wasn’t sitting on the table with us. We talked, even laughed. I thought that maybe if the phone wasn’t there, we’d be good. But then, when I thought about the rest of that night, talking about the fact that I’d been with Jack and Kevin while I was away, and that I’d been spanked and punished by Jack… And that I liked it. This past weekend, Greg said that when he spanked me back in New York, he didn’t care for it and asked if we could never do that again. I felt my inner light dim, but agreed.
“I think we should see a marriage counselor,” I whispered, then quickly took a sip of wine.
“Are you kidding?” he snickered. “We’re fine. We’re going to be fine,” he said looking at me in earnest. “I’m sorry. I’ll try harder. We don’t need to air our dirty laundry to some quack.”
“I think it might be helpful, that’s all. Maybe they can give us some advice on how to reconnect. We’ve never been very good at that, Greg. I like conversation over dinner. Talk to me,” I pleaded.
“Okay. You mentioned that you’d like to start looking at charities to work for. Where do you think you’ll look?”
I’d already listed for him the four or five places that I was going to talk to, but, hey. It was a start—right?
* * *
I was trying to water the grass, only, it wasn’t going as planned. And now, here was Jack. In California. Seeing him in the parking lot was a wake up call. Instantly, my heart started pounding. Not beating faster—pounding. I replayed the words he’d said in his living room when I told him I was coming back to Napa. “Does he make your heart pound like this?” “Does he make you catch your breath with a mere touch?” “Does he make you quiver with need?” and “Do you get this wet for him? I don’t think so. That’s because we were meant to be, Beth.”
I’d replayed that night in his place as much as I’d replayed the earth shattering sex. What was I going to do? I’m trying to water the grass. Dinner last night, I made a small step in the right direction. I had to do the “right” thing. I had to keep trying.
I picked up my phone to text Jack his answer, that I couldn’t accept his invitation, but Greg called, interrupting my text. Putting on my cheeriest voice I told Greg that I was just putting together dinner. Coq au vin. His favorite. Then he dumped on me that, as much as he loved our long weekend, having missed the couple of days last week he had to put in more time than he realized to be ready for some presentation on Wednesday. He wouldn’t be home until late. I don’t know why, but I shifted into Old Bets mode and said it was fine.
Then, shocking myself even more, I told him I’d call a friend or two and go out to dinner. Maybe it was spite, maybe it was that my ‘lady days’ started this morning, but I was crabby, and if Greg wasn’t willing to work on us, why should I? I wondered what he would do if I told him that Jack was in town and has asked me to dinner and I was going to take him up on the invitation.
I hung up the phone and poured a gin and tonic with a fat lime squeeze and silently thanked Morgan tomorrow for restocking my office bar.
I knew it was a shitty thing to do—to cancel on dinner. But we had just spent four solid days together. And after last night’s dinner, when Elizabeth suggested counseling? I couldn’t imagine what I’d come home to tonight.
I’ve enjoyed the day at work—quietly. Everyone keeps to themselves here. I plowed through my two new clients and caught up on files that should have been dealt with while I was off galavanting with Bets at the Embassy Suites. And what a nightmare that was! I didn’t think Elizabeth coming back would be awkward, but she didn’t come back as
my Bets.
From her showing up in bright pink underwear under a trench coat to her initiating sex whenever we were alone, and sometimes not so alone, she was a whole new person. In the back of the limo, which I successfully put off. I mean, the driver was in the front seat. What would he think? How trashy. Then at the hotel in the elevator. Doesn’t she know that there are cameras in there? And what if the doors opened and someone saw us? She was sex crazed, which was great, but at four in the afternoon? In our room, sure, we had a go at it, but when I looked at her, the new hair, the wild sparkle in her eye… I didn’t really know who she was.
I woke up early that Thursday morning and watched her sleep. Even in her sleep she was different. Now she chose to sleep in the buff. A part of me found that totally hot, but then as my eyes raked over her body, coming to a stop at her butt, all I could see were the markings that I’d seen the week earlier when I chased her down in New York.
* * *
“Holy shit! Elizabeth! What happened to you?” Elizabeth had just seductively dropped her pants, and when she turned there were red marks all over her ass. “Your rear. It has welts on it!”
When she blushed, I was even more confused. She should be alarmed!
“I asked Jack to do that,” she said, her voice sounding odd.
I couldn’t make sense of what she just said. She “asked Jack” to do what? “To beat you?” I asked.
“NO! It’s not like that at all. This was punishment for all I had done since I was here. For being with Jack and Kevin. I asked for this,” she said. Her eyes showed that she was dead serious.
“I don’t understand. You’re making no sense whatsoever.” What was she talking about? Punishment? Then I heard the rest of what she had said. “You were with both of them?”
Not In My Wildest Dreams (Dream Series) Page 12