A Novel Experience: A Love Between the Pages Novelette

by Heather Guimond

  “Okay, then do that. Just promise me you’ll really get out and do something like maybe have a real date, rather than binge-watching movies involving an eleven-year-old wizard?”

  “Hey, he’s seventeen by the time they’re finished,” I said, pretending to be affronted. “Besides, that’d only kill one day, two at the most.”

  “I think your time is better spent in ‘field research.’ Go get laid,” she said, mouthing last part to me.

  I laughed at her bluntness. The idea was appealing though. It had been a good while since I’d really given in to some unabashed self-indulgence.

  “I’ll call Kent to see if he feels like getting together. You know he’s always ready for a good time.” Kent Kingsley was my buddy and the quasi-owner of the Kingsley Hotel. He worked hard, but when he played, he played harder. Together, we kicked up a storm.

  “I think Kent would be the perfect partner-in-crime for a week of debauchery,” she said with a lift of her eyebrow, her expression telling me she was well aware of the kind of ruckus we would make.

  “I’ll be lucky if I can get him to take an entire weekend off work, but sin is the man’s middle name. By the time the weekend is over, I’ll need a movie marathon to recover.”

  Two days later, Kent and I sat in a little lounge in the Kingsley Hotel, shooting the shit over our drinks—a vodka tonic for him, a whiskey sour for me—while ribbing the bartender, Stan, about his psychotic wife. She’d recently come after him with a gardening rake for saying hello to their next-door neighbor who just happened to be a twenty-five-year-old blonde with, as he put it, a killer set of hooters.

  “I swear,” he huffed out in his thick New-York accent, “that woman is going to put me in a grave one day. I was just being polite. When someone says hello to you, it’s customary to say hello back, right?”

  “Not if your wife is possessive, jealous, and homicidal,” I helpfully pointed out.

  “You forgot crazy,” Kent said with a tip of his glass toward Stan.

  “Eh, fuck youse guys,” Stan said, with a flap of his hands at us. “My Lucretia’s a passionate woman. She may kill me before all is said and done, but I wouldn’t trade her for anything.”

  I laughed. Even after thirty years, his wife was the one woman who made him weak, no matter how insane she might be. The romantic in me hoped one day I’d meet someone like that, a woman who captured my heart and ruined me for anyone else. I didn’t know if it would ever really happen—I thought I might just love all women too much.

  “Pfft,” Kent huffed before taking another swallow from his glass. “I wouldn’t put up with that shit for a second. Huh. That’s right, I don’t do the relationship thing anymore, so I don’t have to worry about it.”

  Kent had a failed engagement and subsequently swore off all emotional entanglements. I really couldn’t blame the guy after the way his fiancée had only been after him for money and status. I knew I needed to be wary of the same danger, but I was still living my life for the pleasure of it. It was a worry for another time.

  “So, what shall we do, Gage? The night, the city is ours,” Kent asked after Stan moved down the bar to help another customer. “As entertaining as this is, we can’t spend our whole weekend here, listening to Stan’s love and war stories. Where should we go first?”

  I tossed back the last of my drink before drumming my fingers on the bar. There was only one place to go for a guys’ night on the town, and it wasn’t the Bunny Ranch or some seedy strip club.

  “It’s time to head over to the Wynn and see what’s going on at XS,” I replied, my imagination already filled with throbbing music, dozens of beautiful women surrounding us, and free-flowing bottle service. Whoever said hard work is its own reward hadn’t met the two of us.

  One short hour later, we were seated behind a velvet rope on one of the plush, overstuffed sofas that ringed the dance floor. We had bottles of tequila, whiskey, and vodka on ice and two girls a piece. We had no doubts these women were only out for free drinks and probably a good time which was just fine by us. Kent had no qualms about letting anyone know he didn’t have anything to offer but his body and maybe breakfast the next day. I wasn’t so blunt since I didn’t have an agenda either way. I’d go in whichever direction a good time took me.

  “So, Gage,” Jennifer, the girl presently sitting in my lap with one arm draped over my shoulders said while trying her best not to spill her appletini all over me. “Where are you from?”

  “We’re local,” I replied, before taking a sip of my Jameson Limited Reserve. Damn, it was good whiskey. “How about you?”

  “We’re all from Omaha. Keri over there, the one on your friend’s lap, is getting married next week, so we’re here for her last hurrah. We were going to dress her up with the ‘Bride to Be’ sash and penis gear, but we thought it might make her a target for guys just looking to score.”

  “Looks like you all found one, anyway,” I replied with a short laugh, then smirking over the fact Kent was indeed only looking for company for the night.

  “It’s one thing to find your last fling on your own, quite another to be singled out by every pig in town.”

  “Good point. Kent may be a confirmed bachelor, but he’d never mistreat anyone. His mission in life is sending women home with a smile. Keri’s in good hands if she’s looking to go out with a bang.”

  “Literally!” Jennifer cried before draining the last of her drink, then holding the empty glass out to me. “Fill me up, Gage.”

  I was ready to fill her up any way she liked. She was a cute little brunette with a dynamite figure and a pretty face. She and her friends were dressed to kill in scanty clubwear and dramatic make up. Me? I was wearing a dark grey suit with no tie, and I’d just run some gel through my hair after my shower. I was in the zone, my head pleasantly buzzing and my body warm and relaxed. My libido was alive and well, ready to join in the fun.

  Since we didn’t have the ingredients for an appletini, I slid Jennifer off my lap and excused myself to get her another. As I stood, Kent pulled away from Keri’s kisses on his neck.

  “Where you headed, man?” he asked, looking at me, worried I was about to nuke the party just as things were getting interesting.

  “Relax. I’m just going to get Jennifer another drink,” I replied reassuringly. “We don’t have the mixers for what she’s drinking, and nobody wants things to slow down needlessly. I’ll be right back.”

  “You know what? Forget that. Let’s take this party back to the hotel. I have everything we need, and we won’t have to shout to be heard.”

  I shook my head and grinned. As if Kent was doing much talking. I was ready to take the party to the next level myself, so I didn’t argue. Kent’s girls were already standing, clearly in agreement with his suggestion.

  “Feel like heading out to Kent’s place?” I asked Jennifer and her friend whose name I couldn’t remember. They smiled enthusiastically and nearly tripped over each other to stand as well. Kent grabbed the bottle of vodka from the bucket on the table, and we ushered everyone outside.

  After a short Uber ride—where we all crammed into the back seat of a Hyundai Elantra and passed the bottle around between us—we stumbled into the hotel, chattering and laughing. Kent started singing Candy Shop loudly and off-key. The girls didn’t seem to mind as they all started dancing as if he were 50 Cent himself. It was ridiculous, but I loved it.

  I slung each arm around Jennifer and her friend, whose name happened to be Hope, then ushered them toward the elevators that would take us to Kent’s suite. He rounded up his girls and chased them into the first car that opened.

  When we finally reached Kent’s rooms, it was a flurry of lips, tongues, teeth, and hands. I could hardly distinguish who was touching whom, but as long as there wasn’t a pair of strong man-hands gripping my ass, it was all good. I broke away and went to the wet bar where I started pouring more drinks for everyone while Kent made his own retreat to turn on the music. With more club tunes pumping through
the air, the party didn’t stop.

  Once everyone had been served, Kent and I fell back on the sofa. His girls instantly climbed in his lap while Jennifer and Hope decided a little strip tease was in order. Things became a blur after that. I was only dimly aware when Kent took his half of the party into his bedroom.

  I downed the last of my whiskey as Hope stumbled to the sofa. She curled up next to me before falling over, doing a face plant in my lap. Before I knew it, she was snoring. Jennifer just laughed at her friend before putting out her hand. I gently rearranged Hope on the sofa so she’d be safe and comfortable as she slept, then taking Jennifer’s palm in mine, I led her to the guest room of Kent’s suite.

  Chapter Three

  I woke the next morning with a soft throbbing in my head and a naked woman tangled in the sheets next to me. I recalled visions of our sweat dripping bodies sliding against each other, hands gripping and grasping, and the sound and scent of sex in the air. I smiled to myself, thinking it had been a night well spent. I hadn’t had that kind of fun in what seemed like ages and had missed just thinking and feeling at the moment.

  Briefly, I indulged in the sight of her resting body. She looked beautiful with her hair fanned out on the pillow, her thick eyelashes dusting the tops of her cheeks. I briefly wondered what it might be like to have somebody to wake up to every morning, someone who made my heart beat faster just by simply lying next to me. Maybe someday that’d be my reality.

  I rolled over and brushed the hair from Jennifer’s neck. She didn’t stir when I left a soft kiss on her shoulder, so I got out of bed and pulled my boxer briefs back on. I lazily made my way out to Kent’s kitchen to make some coffee, whistling quietly. Indeed, it had been a good night.

  Guzzling a full cup of black coffee down, I wandered out to the living room to check on Hope. She looked like she hadn’t moved a muscle all night. I brushed the hair from her face as well, leaving a gentle kiss on her cheek. Not that I’d indulged in much group sex in my day, but it was a pity that she’d crashed before the festivities really began. It would have made for some hot writing inspiration though in my experience female readers tended to prefer the male-female-male ménages. I shrugged to myself. That wasn’t likely to happen with me. I wasn’t a sharing kind of guy.

  Deciding it was time to make my exit, I went back to the bedroom to finish getting dressed. Jennifer remained sound asleep, so I quietly put my suit back on. I wondered for a second if it made me an asshole leaving Kent to deal with four women on a morning-after, one when he was very likely sporting a gigantic hangover. Knowing him, he’d just take some Advil and try to make a day out of it. I doubted he could keep four women happy all by himself, but knowing him, he’d give it a shot.

  I walked back over the bed and lightly rubbed Jennifer’s shoulder. She cracked open a bleary eye, then smiled.

  “I’m heading out,” I whispered. “I wanted to at least say goodbye and thank you for a fantastic night.”

  She sat up, the sheet falling to her waist. I paused to admire the beauty of her perfect chest, reaching out to lightly flick one of her nipples. She giggled and stayed my hand before reaching behind my neck and pulling me to her for a lingering kiss.

  “I enjoyed… meeting you as well. I had the time of my life,” she said sleepily.

  “Remember me fondly,” I teased. “Go back to sleep. Kent will take good care of you and your friends and make sure you get home safely.”

  “Thanks, Gage. If you ever get out to Omaha, give me a call. I’ll leave my number with Kent.”

  I promised to do so, wondering if I had a signing scheduled in Nebraska. If I managed to get out there, I’d look her up. With one last kiss, I walked out of the room, closing the bedroom door on that particular scene of my story.

  I spent the next four days hanging out at home, wearing nothing but my boxers. I ruminated from time to time over my night with Jennifer but found I wasn’t eager for a repeat with anyone any time soon. Kent, on the other hand, had been quick to give me a brief rundown on his threesome. He spent more time recounting the morning after when he’d finally woken to find himself alone with all four women. He said it’d taken some encouragement, excuses that he had a pressing work issue, and breakfast at the hotel’s buffet to get them to move on, but all in all, it wasn’t an unpleasant parting. Lucky for him, since more than once, he’d had to divest himself from a clingy woman the morning after a good time. He did call me a dick for leaving him to manage them by himself but laughed at the same time.

  I’d never considered myself a womanizer, just a huge fan of beautiful women with a taste for enjoying themselves like I did. I’d have been open to a relationship if I found someone I felt compatible enough with or better yet someone who blew my socks off, but I’d never had that happen. I idly wondered in the past if it was time to settle down but dismissed the idea almost as soon as it came. I’d never been the type of guy to go out searching for ‘the one.’ No, it suited me much better to let my life unfold as it would.

  About two weeks into my unplanned ‘vacation,’ I got a call from my mom. We weren’t particularly close, following the less than ideal childhood she and my father had given me, so I was surprised to hear from her. Once I’d become successful with the writing gig, I’d set her up in a place nearby and took care of most of her financial needs, but neither of us seemed interested in having a relationship beyond that. My mom was still young at fifty-two, and following the death of my shady father, she’d begun to sow oats she’d never been able to after marrying and having a child at eighteen. I couldn’t imagine what she wanted from me, other than money. It sure wasn’t a social call.

  “Gage,” she said as soon as I answered my phone. “They’re about to turn off my electricity. I need a little cash infusion.”

  I sighed, surprised at the pang of disappointment she wasn’t calling just to see how I was doing. I’d stopped expecting her to be an average mother decades ago.

  “What happened to the money I gave you last week? I gave you enough to cover all your bills and groceries for the month.”

  “About that… I loaned most of it to Rocky. He lost a good amount at the tables and needed a little help.”

  Rocky was her most recent boy-toy. A douchebag of just twenty-six years old, he was enjoying a free ride with my mom, living at her house. I didn’t entirely support him too, he had a job, parking cars at one of the bigger hotels on the strip, but since I supported her, I took care of him by proxy. It didn’t make me happy, but that was an unfortunate by-product of feeling like I should be the provider my father never was.

  “When are you going to let that free-loader go and find someone who will take care of you for a change?” I asked exasperatedly.

  “When he stops giving me multiple orgasms. What more would I want from a man? I don’t need another husband trying to tell me what to do.”

  Though I cringed at the multiple orgasms part, I could see her point. My dad had been bossy and overbearing, bitter from being saddled with a wife and a kid when only a teenager. He’d landed himself in jail a couple times trying to support us which only made that job harder since no one wanted to employ a felon. His shitty attitude and lack of respect for authority didn’t help, either.

  Mom had spent her young adult years trying to make up for my father’s shortcomings workwise which came at the expense of being an attentive mother. Her inexperience with love of any kind—her own parents were assholes for kicking her out on her own when they found out she was pregnant—didn’t give her a solid foundation, to begin with. She did her best, but she too fell short of being a loving parent.

  Consequently, I pretty much raised myself with the influence of a few good people who’d felt sorry for the little boy in the apartment across the hall. I thanked God for them whenever my mom called because otherwise, I could have ended up like my ne'er-do-well dad.

  “Fine. I’m on a short break right now so I can come over. Would you like to go to lunch while we’re at it?” I asked, surpr
ising myself. Normally, I wanted to drop off the money and split. Why did I suddenly feel a longing for even the barest thread of a familial bond?

  “Sure, honey,” she replied.

  Honey? I couldn’t think of a time in my life she’d ever called me anything but Gage, except for the occasional “you little shit.”

  We made plans for me to drop by at noon, then we’d go to a local chain restaurant. I didn’t care what we ate, I just found myself strangely looking forward to spending time maybe getting to know the woman she was, rather than the mother who treated me like I’d been nothing but a bother my whole life.

  When I showed up at her house, Mom was still in a pair of leggings and a large man’s t-shirt. Her hair was up in a towel, so I rightly assumed she’d just gotten out of the shower. I told myself it was okay, there was no hurry for us to be anywhere.

  “Hi, Mom,” I said as I entered the door, giving her the obligatory cheek kiss. She may not have been a demonstrative parent, but she demanded that I be toward her. At least to keep up the pretense of being a loving son.