Operation Sex Kitten

by Tess Summers

  Operation Sex Kitten

  San Diego Social Scene, Book 1

  Tess Summers

  Published: 2016

  ISBN: 978-1-62210-381-2

  Published by Liquid Silver Publishing. Copyright © 2016, Tess Summers.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  Manufactured in the USA

  Email support@liquidsilverpublishing.com with questions, or inquiries about Liquid Silver Books, Liquid Silver Publishing, or Ten West Publishing.

  Blurb

  Ava Ericson thought she had her life planned out: graduate with her PhD, marry Brad Miller when he finished law school, have 2.5 babies…and mediocre sex for the rest of her days. But when Brad dumps her upon learning he’s passed the bar, citing new “opportunities” available, she has to rethink her future. Believing her lack of experience was the reason Brad broke up with her, she launches Operation Sex Kitten (OSK), a plan to become a vixen in bed and get Brad back. Things might go astray when she meets the notorious attorney, Travis Sterling, the bachelor who she is sure can teach her a thing or two in the bedroom. As she enjoys putting OSK theories into practice, she realizes the real ‘operation’ will be for the two not to fall in love. Fun and romantic, Operation Sex Kitten turns up the heat with explicit scenes while you root for love to conquer all.

  Dedication

  For everyone who supported me when I dared to dream of a life outside the box.

  Acknowledgements

  KCB—you’re my real-life hero. I love you.

  My family—I appreciate you putting up with my wacky hours and distracted staring into space. Thank you for loving me through it all. You are my reason for being.

  John McDonald—thanks for being my sounding board as I brought the characters to life. Your advice and wisdom helped me make this book possible and your “of course it’s going to be published” attitude gave me the courage to make it happen.

  My Bad Girls Club: Janece Ellers, Elle Pawley, and Marty Wenzel. Your encouragement kept me going. As did your demands for more chapters! I couldn’t ask for more supportive friends. I love you bitches.

  Doug Hall—thank you for being brutally honest. There isn’t a doubt in my mind your observations made this book better.

  Shasta Crabb—comma splices…I know, I know! You have a gift.

  Andrew Hall—I don’t know what I would have done without your sage advice. You are quite simply, brilliant.

  Rebecca Gilbert—thank you for being an amazing editor. I am certain I tried your patience and probably gave you some gray hairs, but I thank you from the bottom of my heart for all your help and care with my first book. I promise the next one will be easier.

  Kasi Alexander—your editing abilities are almost superhuman. Thank you for doing such an incredible job.

  Dar Albert—thank you for putting the face on Ava and Travis and making them as gorgeous on the cover as they are in my head!

  Everyone at Liquid Silver Books—thank you for your support and taking a chance on a new author. I am both humbled and grateful.

  Prologue

  “MAYBE sex like that only exists in the movies.” Ava sighed as she flung her arms to her sides for dramatic effect after watching a steamy sex scene in a movie she and her best friend had rented.

  Anne looked at her like she was crazy. “Didn’t you and Brad have sex like that, ever? Even in the beginning?”

  Ava frowned. Obviously they hadn’t, or she wouldn’t have said that.

  “Oh, honey, then he was doing it wrong. Did he ever, you know, satisfy you?”

  “I think so?” Ava wasn’t quite sure.

  “You think so? You think so? Then he really was doing it wrong.” Despite Ava’s obvious discomfort with the conversation’s topic, her friend pressed on. “Well, have you, uh, been taking care of things yourself now that you’re single?”

  Ava gave an inquisitive look; she wasn’t exactly following.

  “You know, are you being the master of your domain?”

  It finally dawned on Ava that her friend was referring to masturbation. Embarrassed, she quickly replied, “Of course not!”

  “My beautiful friend, if you can’t get yourself off, how do you expect your partner to?”

  Two days later, a gift basket with a vibrator, XXX-rated videos, condoms, lingerie, a bottle of wine, and other “goodies” was waiting on the pool house counter when Ava walked in the door with a card that read, To discovering new things. She was mortified at the idea her parents would walk in and find it on the counter, so she stashed it in her closet.

  It took a week before Ava opened the contents of the basket and only did so to stop Annie from pestering her. She watched a video, embarrassed at first, but then became intrigued, amazed that women were that bold. With the help of her new device, she soon discovered that the idea of being more daring turned her on. She went online and started reading erotica and was left wanting to experience what the characters she read about experienced. No wonder Brad left me. Ava decided she would use her newfound sexuality to win him back and show him she was sophisticated and sexual. Set to close on her new condo that following week, she now had a new mission. Operation Sex Kitten was about to commence.

  Chapter 1

  "AVA, Ava Ericson, that's you, isn't it?" Even half awake, Ava recognized the thin voice of her parents’ elderly neighbor, Mrs. Marten.

  “Yes, Mrs. Marten, it's me. What time is it?" She sounded more snappish than she intended.

  After hanging up the phone with the widow, Ava ran a brush through her hair and was out the door without thinking, but by the time she drove through the guard gates of her parents’ upscale neighborhood, she was fuming. Mrs. Marten had called to inform her of quite the party happening at the Ericson place. Normally, she would have congratulated her parents on throwing a bash wild enough to upset the neighbors. With the exception of their annual Halloween shindig—which was a far cry from normal—their stuffy dinner parties usually ended by nine-thirty p.m. But unfortunately, her parents were away on a two-week cruise, leaving her youngest sister, Grace, home alone to prepare for her freshman year in college that was still two months away.

  As Ava turned onto the familiar cul-de-sac, she was a little taken aback by the cliché of the scene at the end of the street. It looked like something straight out of a bad teenage movie, where the characters attend a party that gets out of control. Cars lined the long driveway to the house, parked haphazardly in the manicured hedges and on her mother’s well cared-for flowerbeds. Underwear now adorned the garden statues. With no more room in the driveway, a yellow sports car parked in the curve of the street, blocking a fire hydrant, and an old car with a faded blue paint job had jumped the curb and was sitting with two wheels next to one of the brick pillars at the entrance and two wheels still on the street. Amazingly, the for-sale sign still stood intact. However, when she stopped in front of it, she saw that someone had drawn a mustache on the agent’s face on the sign—her face.

  Ava shook her head when a roll of toilet paper was fired through the air from the window above the front entrance of her family’s traditional brick Tudor. I’m going to kill her, she thought as she pulled her Prius into Mrs. Marten’s circular drive and parked right outside her front door. The tiny woman was waiting for her as she got out of th
e car.

  “I didn’t know what else to do, Ava! I didn’t want to call the police but this has to end! Oh, it’s a good thing the Clarks are out of town!” The Clarks were the neighbors that lived on the other side of her parents. Mr. Clark was known for his pristine lawn, immaculate home, beautiful and much younger third wife, and horrible temper.

  “Thank you for calling me, ma’am. I’ll take care of it.” She reassuringly patted the elderly woman on the shoulder. "You go back inside now.”

  She waited until the neighbor had made it safely back inside before turning to the task at hand—beating the shit out of her sister.

  Ava shook her head the whole time she marched up the driveway to her prestigious real estate listing and parents’ Tudor, keys in one hand, cell phone in the other.

  Walking into the large foyer of the house, Ava was given a warm, drunken greeting by her little sister’s best friend, Jill, who was weaving at the landing of the large, cherry staircase that stood at the front entrance. The longhaired girl gripped the banister while she stumbled down the stairs to where Ava was standing.

  Ava steadied her once she reached the bottom before gently asking, “Honey, what is going on here?”

  “We’re having one last hoorah with our class!” the intoxicated friend shouted, and raised her red plastic glass, as if giving a toast.

  “Jill, listen to me. Where is Gracie?”

  “Oh, she’s around here somewhere,” Jill slurred as she motioned with her glass, spilling beer everywhere, then abruptly sat down on the steps.

  “You stay there. I’ll be right back.”

  Ava surveyed the house. Beyond the staircase, every seat in the living room was occupied and she could hear loud music and noisy, indistinct chatter coming from the kitchen. At that moment, she was very glad her parents had heeded her advice and removed the valuables while the house was being shown to potential buyers. It wasn’t going to help the destroyed furnishings that were still there, but at least the blow to Grace’s bank account would be lessened. She couldn’t believe she was worried about Grace’s bank account at a time like this! She was too much like her mother. Grabbing the arm of the next young man who walked by, she asked, “Do you know where Grace is?”

  He grabbed her hand and started stroking it. “Hey, beautiful. It doesn’t matter where she is. Come have a drink with me.”

  She couldn’t believe it. Was the boy, who was obviously not even of legal drinking age, actually hitting on her?

  She pulled her hand back like it was on fire, flashed a look of disdain that conveyed, You’ve got to be freaking kidding me, and then with eyebrows raised, said sternly and slowly, “Where. Is. Grace?”

  He threw his hands up chest high. “Whoa, babe, sorry. Chill. Last I saw her, she was out by the pool.”

  Ava suddenly became self-conscious of her appearance. She was pretty much in her pajamas—a pair of sports shorts and a tank top—and had only taken the time to put a bra on and brush her hair while putting it in a ponytail before heading out the door after receiving the neighbor’s call.

  Ava entered the kitchen and wove her way through the sea of scantily clad teenagers, many under the influence of alcohol, and even more acting like idiots, until she reached the doors leading to the pool area. She stepped down through the French doors onto the patio and spotted Grace. The tall, beautiful blonde was holding court with three shirtless, muscular young men in board shorts and flip-flops.

  At this point, Ava was livid. How could Grace be so damn irresponsible? She already knew the answer. Ava was the second oldest child in the family and the eldest girl. Steven, her older brother by a year and a half, was a second-year medical resident on the other side of the country. They were thick as thieves growing up and she still considered him to be one of the few people she confided in. Her parents had difficulty conceiving again and it was almost six years before her middle sister, Hope, came along. Two years later, her mother was pregnant with Grace. Gracie was the quintessential baby of the family. She got away with pretty much everything and didn’t have a care in the world. Conversely, Ava took on the eldest child traits: bossy, responsible for everyone, overachiever. Steven shared only one oldest child trait with her—overachiever.

  As she approached, her little sister caught sight of her and the previous huge grin on the younger girl’s face fell into a look of fear.

  “What the hell, Grace? Get everyone out. Now.”

  As soon as she said it, the realization that many had been drinking so therefore could not drive, hit Ava. “Wait, hold on, they can’t drive if they’ve been drinking.” A picture of Mrs. Marten’s worried face popped into her head, so she continued, “But they still need to go!”

  “Luckily, I have everyone’s keys,” Grace proudly exclaimed while holding up a sack filled with what Ava assumed were the attendees’ car keys.

  “Okay, well they either need to be able to drive home or I am calling their parents to come get them.” She hoped that even though most of these kids were technically considered an adult, as they were over eighteen, it was still an effective threat.

  Ava used her sister’s shoulder to steady herself and climbed onto a stool, cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, “Party’s over! You need to go home!” Not one person even acknowledged her. She took a deep breath and tried again, louder this time. Still nothing. She looked down at Grace, who simply shrugged her shoulders. Mustering up her deepest cheerleading voice, she tried one last time and felt like a substitute teacher in a gym class, attempting to get anyone’s attention and being ignored by everyone.

  Kids these days have no respect for authority. Now what? Ava slid back onto the seat of the stool. She needed to think, away from the yelling and the loud music. Feeling something pinch her thigh as she moved her feet to the footrest of the stool, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her keys and cell phone, then walked over to the pool house. Unlocking the door to her old place, she slid inside, hoping unnoticed, and locked the door behind her. Luckily, Grace was never given the new keys when her parents changed the locks before she moved in, so it had remained untouched by the partygoers. Sitting down at the kitchenette and putting her hand on her forehead, she truly was at a loss. She looked at the clock and realized it was too late to call any of her colleagues for assistance. She hated to do it, but she decided to call her dad’s brother, Richard. He was godfather to all of Robert and Francine’s children and, although he’d probably be more pissed than Ava, he definitely was authoritative.

  She was surprised when her Aunt Mary answered after only the first ring.

  “I’m so sorry to wake you. It’s Ava, may I speak to Uncle Richard?”

  Aunt Mary informed her that she was wide-awake and that her husband was out of town on business. “Is there something I can help you with, dear?” her aunt asked.

  “I’ve just got a problem that I might need some muscle to help me with,” she replied.

  “Can’t Brad help you?” Her aunt didn’t know they had broken up? How did she not know? Ava realized she hardly ever saw her aunt anymore and supposed that when she did, it hadn’t come up.

  “Good idea. I’ll give him a call.” Now was not the time to go into the fact the two hadn’t been a couple for almost a year. She thanked her aunt and hung up.

  Ava sat still for a long time. Should she call Brad? This might fit nicely into Operation Sex Kitten, her mission of getting him back. She could be the damsel in distress, he could come save her, and she could thank him by blowing his socks off with her newfound sexual prowess. Prove to him that he was wrong about her ‘lack of sophistication.’

  She hadn’t seen him since that day at their almost-apartment and hadn’t actually talked to him in over two months, not really having a reason to do so. Since deciding she was going to get him back in her bed, she had started looking for one. In addition to wanting to show him her brand-new sexuality, she missed having him in her life, and, truth be told, her pride was hurt a
t how easily he let her go. Now she had a legitimate reason to call him—she truly needed his help and he could be her knight in shining armor. She dialed Brad’s number and was pleasantly surprised when he answered on the third ring. “Well, hello there!”

  “Hi, Brad, it’s Ava. Hey, I’m sorry to bother you but I have a problem and I think you might be the only one who can help me.” Ooooh, good job, play on his ego. “My parents are out of town and I didn’t have anyone else I can call.” Let him know I’m not dating anyone.

  “Well, I’m out with…” he hesitated, then finished, “friends. But what do you need?”

  She then explained about Grace’s party and how no one would leave. She ended her story with, “I don’t know what to do. I need you, Brad.”

  “Jesus, Ava. Seriously? What do you expect me to do?”

  “I don’t know, I—”

  He cut her off. “You need to call the police. I can’t help you. Sorry.”

  Embarrassed now for calling him, she mumbled, “It’s okay. I appreciate—”

  He cut her off again. “Listen, I gotta go. Good luck.” He hung up.

  She laid the phone on the table as a few tears streamed down her face. That did not go at all how she wanted.

  You didn’t even try to flirt with him, you idiot!

  It was obvious he was not interested in her anymore. Who could blame him? She thought their time together and giving him her virginity might have meant at least something, but try as she might, she could no longer deny he didn’t give a damn about her. She had almost convinced herself over the last year that he actually did, he had just gotten scared. Cold feet. But when her brain, the rational side of her, would ask why he hadn’t tried to see her once since they’d broken up, her irrational heart never could come up with a good answer. Not for lack of trying though. The reality of it was like a slap waking her up from a dream.

  “Thanks for nothing, Brad,” she whispered while hopping off the barstool and walking over to the refrigerator. She was now more determined than ever to get him into bed, if for no other reason than to show him what he was going to be missing. She loved it when she got pissed, it made her spunky—at least temporarily. She let herself relish the thought of him being full of regret, then realized she needed to learn a thing or two about sex first and had to find someone experienced who could teach her.