by Roya Carmen
The girls each pick out a special outfit for their dolls and I’m adamant when I tell Weston I’m paying for the outfits.
All in all, the girls have chosen their dolls surprisingly quickly.
“I’m naming mine Annabelle,” Claire tells us. “I like that name a lot.”
I smile at her.
“I’m naming mine Sabrina,” Chloe tells her. “Like the teenage witch.”
“Cool,” Claire says. “I like that.”
We manage to tear the dolls quickly from their boxes. Roselyn stuffs all the accompanying documents and accessories into her over-sized purse.
“Let’s go have dinner, shall we, girls?” Weston says with a grin.
The place is perfect; all pinks, flowers, saucers and sugary sweetness. We’re in heaven.
Okay, perhaps Weston’s not quite in heaven, but we sure are. I have the urge to run off and explore.
“How many dolls will be dining today,” the hostess, a plump dark haired young woman asks us.
“Three dolls,” I tell her. “Three adults. Three children.”
“Under Hanson,” Weston chimes in.
“Follow me,” she says as she leads us to the back of the café. “We have a table all ready for you.” I take in the room, with its black and white striped walls, and comfy looking flower covered benches.
“This is so awesome,” Claire squeals, a little too loudly. She’s holding her Anabelle doll in a death grip. I almost want to tell her not to fear; no one will steal her doll, everyone here has their own.
“We come here all the time,” Elizabeth says matter-of-factly. “The mac and cheese is to die for.”
I smile at her words, she’s another breed.
Claire’s gaze sweeps across the café, and seems to take in everything from the pink flower centerpieces, to the linen napkins tied with pink ribbons. “This place is so fancy.”
Melissa, our server, is a cheery curly haired middle-aged woman who introduces herself as she sets booster seats for the dolls. She helps the girls with Emma, Sabrina and Anabelle. Roselyn and I try to assist but she seems to have it all under control.
Weston sits there, fitting right in, in his dark suit, looking rather dashing. He wears a comical expression on his face as he looks over at Sabrina who sits across him, staring back blankly.
“So what do you think about all this?” I ask him with an impish smile.
“What do I think? I fear we may all possibly perish from an overdose of whimsy,” he replies, a slight curve of his lip.
“You’re a good sport,” I tell him.
“It’s just great to see the smiles on their faces,” he adds, giving my hand a quick squeeze.
“Are you girls having a great time?” Roselyn asks.
“We are having such a good time,” Chloe tells her, her face lit up. “I don’t ever want to leave.”
“But I think Emma, Annabelle and Sabrina might be a little bored,” Weston points out. “They’re all so serious.”
Elizabeth rolls her eyes a little, mildly mortified by her father, but my girls laugh, clearly charmed.
They have absolutely fallen for him…just like I have.
As soon as Melissa brings the sticky cinnamon buns, the girls dig their little paws in them. Claire breaks a little piece for her doll, which is just adorable.
We start off with a veggie platter and mini pizza appetizer.
The girls sip on lemonades. Roselyn and I indulge in Bellinis—big girls need their treats too.
The girls order the mac and cheese, and the adults opt for chicken picatta and spaghetti and meatballs. It’s all very delicious. Dinner is filled with smiles, laughing and good conversation, mostly about our day. There is so much positive energy.
For dessert, we enjoy chocolate mousse, covered with fluffy white icing and shards of pink chocolate, served in whimsical flower pots.
I make a mental note to officially include this little spot on my list of “favorite places.”
As we make our way to the Minskoff Theatre, everyone seems absolutely giddy. I smile at the girls as we follow the crowd into the theater. They are both speechless, in awe. They take in the fancy lobby, the intricate flooring, and the sculptures on the walls.
They look beautiful in their flowing white dresses, trimmed with black lace, and black dressy spring jackets. I usually don’t splurge too much on clothing for the girls, but I didn’t want them to pale in comparison to Elizabeth, who as I expected, is wearing a classy beige sweater and black dress, and expensive-looking black shoes.
As we make our way to the velvety red filled theater, I am overflowing with a warm-cozy feeling. We have great seats—a few rows up, smack in the middle. And lucky me, I end up sandwiched between Claire and Weston.
The show is amazing. Actually amazing doesn’t begin to describe it. It is all so breathtaking; the colorful costumes, the exquisite details and originality, the music, the soulful African inspired beat. The voices hit my ears and send shivers down my spine.
I’ve seen the movie a dozen times, and it is wonderful. The girls and I absolutely love it. But it’s not quite like this.
The girls are mesmerized, their beautiful eyes glued to the front stage. I glance over at Weston who seems thrilled.
“I think the show’s a hit with your girls,” he whispers with a smile. I want to kiss him, a chaste sweet kiss on the cheek, a thank-you kiss. But I don’t dare.
He slips his hand over mine. I close my eyes and pull my hand away. I ache to hold his hand but I can’t.
He smiles at me again…he understands.
Chapter Twenty-Four
This is X-rated, baby.
“I’M EXHAUSTED,” ROSELYN MOANS, her head thrown back as we make our way back to the hotel in the limo. We could have easily walked there if we weren’t all decked out and wearing heels. And besides, who needs to walk when you have a driver.
“Me too.” I laugh. “Manhattan and kids is exhausting, but so much fun.”
Chloe and Elizabeth are in full conversation about their rooms. Elizabeth tells her she has a canopy bed. And Chloe tells her all about the twin beds she shares with Claire.
I smile. I’m tickled at how fast these two have bonded. You’d swear they’ve known each other forever.
“We should have a sleepover,” Chloe ventures.
Elizabeth practically bounces off her seat. “I would love that. I could come over to your room, bring my pajamas and my horse blanket.”
Weston cocks a brow, a smile on his face. “I’m sure Mirella doesn’t want to spend the night with three rowdy girls.”
I smile. He’s kind of right. Just the thought exhausts me.
“I could look after the girls,” Roselyn chimes in. “It’s no problem.”
Weston mulls it over, the slightest hint of a smile on his face. I wonder what he’s thinking. “Are you sure it wouldn’t be an inconvenience? You were just saying you were exhausted.”
“I’m just not used to walking so much. But I’m more than fine hanging back with the girls in a hotel room. You two should go out. Enjoy the big apple.”
She knows.
Weston and I look at each other with shy smiles.
“Then it’s settled. The girls are having a sleepover.” He decides, his voice cheerful.
The girls practically leap out of their seats—which is perfect timing, since we’ve just arrived at the hotel.
Elizabeth arrives at our room, already decked out in her Hello Kitty pajamas, holding on to a soft plush throw. She barely steps foot in the room, before racing to the girls’ room. And they’re already so loud.
“Sorry, we’re a little early,” Weston says. “Lizzie was just so excited.”
He hasn’t bothered to change, he’s still wearing that delectable three-piece suit.
Oh my.
“No problem,” I tell him with a smile. I’m wearing a little black cocktail dress, figuring we’ll probably be going to a martini lounge or a jazz bar. It’s what he’d mentioned
.
“My girls were excited too,” I add, suddenly feeling a little nervous, in such proximity with him, knowing we’re about to go on a “date.” I’m just as excited as the girls.
But I try not to let it show. I try to act cool and collected.
“So where are we going?” I ask, attempting to slip a shoe on one foot, while standing on the other. Of course, I fail miserably and almost land on my rear. Thankfully, Weston grabs my elbow and prevents my fall.
“Are you okay?” he asks, a big smile on his face.
Well, so much for “cool and collected.”
“Yes, thanks,” I say, half-mortified. I’m acting like a smitten horny teenager. “I’m good.”
He smells amazing—that earthy smell he has—it’s some kind of cologne or aftershave. I make a mental note to inquire about it. It’s almost as wonderful as Gabe’s woodsy scent.
Gabe.
I have completely forgotten about Gabe. I wonder what he’s doing tonight. On second thought, I don’t want to think about it.
For some reason, Weston’s presence is suddenly unnerving. I want to be with him. I know that’s not on the agenda tonight but just the thought of being with him, just me and him, is driving me wild.
He shoots me a wicked smile, almost as if he can read my thoughts. I’m still convinced he can.
We hear a knock at the door.
Roselyn is here to save the day. She holds a bag of potato chips and a book; a romance of some sort.
I give her quick instructions. “Basically, the girls need to brush their teeth and go to bed by eleven, latest. But I’m sure they’ll pass out before then. We got up really early this morning.”
Eleven is late, but this is the double-whammy—we’re on vacation, and it’s a sleepover to boot. I am so thankful I’m not the one in charge.
Elizabeth stands on one of the twin beds, and kisses her dad goodnight. He tells her he loves her.
“I love you too, Daddy,” she says. The sight is so sweet.
“Thank you so much, Roselyn,” I say with a warm genuine smile. “I hope you know you’re a lifesaver.”
“I like the girls. And you wouldn’t believe what he’s paying me,” she adds in a whisper, her eyes wide.
I imagine it’s a lot.
As soon as my suite door closes behind us, Weston takes my hand.
I smile. “So where are we going? You never answered me when I asked you earlier.”
“We’re not going anywhere,” he says with a sly smile. “I’m taking you to my room.”
Hell yes!
“Unless you object,” he adds, his playful smile not fading.
“Oh no. I certainly do not object.”
I can’t believe we are doing this.
He slides the key card, and motions me in.
His room his very similar to mine, but it is slightly more spacious. The same charming wallpaper lines the wall.
“Come in,” he urges, extending his hand to me. I take it and lace my fingers with his. The feel of his hand on mine is not nearly enough though. I want more. I want his beautiful mouth on mine. But I want him to take the lead. I want him in charge tonight.
He undoes the two buttons of his jacket, sits on the edge of the queen bed, and pulls me to him. He kisses my stomach. I feel the warmth of his breath through the thin silk fabric of my dress. I bury my face in his soft hair and inhale him.
He pulls away and looks up at me. “It was rather convenient, the sleepover,” he says, his hands trailing behind my back as he unzips me.
“Yes,” I agree.
Thank God for the sleepover.
“Did you put Chloe up to it?” he teases.
“Up to what?”
“Don’t be coy,” he teases. “She’s the one who first mentioned it.”
“Do you think I orchestrated this whole thing? Made my daughter suggest a sleepover so we could get nasty down the hall?” Suddenly I’m livid. How dare he, suggest such a thing. What kind of nympho does he think I am? I glare at him for a good five seconds. “I’m not that cunning, Weston.”
He laughs. “I couldn’t help but wonder. You’ve practically been undressing me with your eyes all day.”
Oh, he’s so arrogant, but so right.
I can’t help but laugh. “You got me. Guilty.”
He pulls me hard to him, and grabs a handful of hair at the nape of my neck. It is deliciously painful. His mouth on mine is…there are no words. Warmth spreads through me, oozes.
I want him now.
I go right for his jacket and practically rip it off. Next, I make a beeline for his belt. I don’t care if he takes me fully dressed, there’s only one part of him I need.
His breathing is ragged. I know he wants me just as badly as I want him. His hands slide down my arms. He peels off my little black dress and leaves me standing over him in my lacy black set and thigh-highs.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers.
Just as I’m about to free him from his pants, he steadies my hand with a tight grip. “Not so fast,” he breathes. “Remember, this morning when I told you what I would do to you?”
“Uh-huh,” I mutter.
“I want to undress you and bathe you.”
“Oh, you can bathe me later, after. I just want you, now,” I protest, wrapping myself all over him.
“I want to bathe you.”
I sigh. Of all the men I could have stumbled upon for my initiation into the world of couple exchange, I had to fall on the king of delayed gratification.
He trails the lacy edge of my bra cup with the tip of his finger. The gesture is chaste and sweet, but when I look into his eyes, I can see his wicked intentions. I bite my lip, wondering what he wants to do to me.
He slips the fabric gently under my breast, and licks soft circles around my nipple. I close my eyes and relish the feel of his warm mouth on me. It seems every single one of my nerve endings stands to attention, anticipating more, wanting more. He’s teasing again. And finally, he takes it in his mouth. He sucks slowly, softly. The warm sensation travels directly to my sex. I close my eyes. God, it feels so good.
He unclasps my bra and lets it fall to the floor. I grab his face and scrape my teeth along his jaw, reveling in him. My lips land on his and his tongue finds mine, frantic. We both moan as we kiss. He pulls at the band of my panties and I’m happy he seems to have forgotten all about that bath. He grabs me hard and flips over me on the bed. He pulls his mouth from mine, and I desperately want it back. His mouth travels down my body as he peels off my panties excruciatingly slowly. He travels all the way down to my feet and slips off my black heeled pumps.
He moves back up over me, and pries my legs open in a swift move, stunning me. His warm breath lands on my sex, and he licks softly, all the while peeling off my thigh-highs.
I’m on cloud nine…or cloud ten, eleven, one hundred. Whichever cloud is the highest, I’m on it.
And just as he’s gotten me all riled up, he pulls away and stands to his feet. He wipes his wet mouth with the back of his hand, a devilish smile on his face. “Time to draw you a nice warm bath.”
Ughhh.
His description was accurate. The bathroom is quite charming, with the same old-world ambience mine has. But it’s much larger. The large claw-footed tub smack in the center grounds it, and creates a beautiful focal point.
“Your bathroom is gorgeous,” I say, pointing out the obvious. “It’s a lot bigger than mine.”
“Oh,” he says as he opens a bottle of bubble bath. The water is running, the sound echoes off the walls. The acoustics in this room are amazing. “Is your room not satisfactory? My travel agent was on top of it.”
“Oh no,” I quickly add, “it’s perfect.”
“I’m glad,” he says with a smile. He looks delectable sitting against the edge of the tub, in his dress pants and vest, belt undone, hair mussed.
“Come in. I’ll wash your back.”
I do as I’m told, glad to no longer be standing ther
e, naked.
I slide my foot into the warm water. There’s just an inch or so, but I don’t mind. I slowly sit and cross my legs. Weston sweeps the warm cloth gently across my skin as he washes my back. It feels wonderful.
“Are you going to join me?” I ask. “I know you’re a big guy but I’m sure we could make room.”
“No, I want you to enjoy this bath all by yourself. You deserve it.”
“Do I?” I say, a little disappointed.
“You do.”
And after a few seconds of silence, save for the sound of running water, he asks, “Do you have a cleaning lady?”
“No,” I tell him, confused. Why would he ask me such a thing?
“I didn’t think so. You work all day, caring for other people’s children, then you go home, and look after your own. Do you do all the cooking too?” he asks as his hand sweeps up to the back of my neck, sending chills through me.
“I do.”
“Thought so. You probably take care of your husband too. Do his laundry?”
“Guilty,” I confess. My eyes close as I enjoy his touch.
“Good God, you must be exhausted,” he says loudly, his words echoing off the walls.
I laugh. “I am.”
“See, this is why you deserve this bath.”
He’s so sweet.
“I’m going to leave you for a little while. There’s a towel and bathrobe on the chair for you.”
I almost want to ask him not to go, but he’s right. I could definitely use a nice relaxing soak.
I wrap myself in the plush bathrobe, my head already wrapped in a fluffy towel. I feel like a walking cloud.
I join Weston on the bed. He’s been reading a newspaper. He sets it on the night table when he sees me.
“Nice bath?”
“Amazing,” I tell him as I inch closer to him.
He better give me some action now, or I will lose it.
He smiles. He knows what I’m up to.
I climb over him, inching up my robe. Even through the fabric of his dress pants, I can feel him hard against me.
“Why are you still dressed?” I ask, my voice smooth, my fingers working on a vest button.