Thrill Me

by Isabel Sharpe

  “Remember Mary Costanzas?”

  “Mary?” He remembered all right. A tiny thing, with the biggest mouth in the neighborhood and a heart sized to match. “Is she old enough to date?”

  Jeffrey rolled his eyes. “You’ve been in this room too long, man.”

  “I’m kidding. I’m happy for you.”

  “I am, too.” His eyes softened. “She’s something else. She graduated from college in Jersey in May, comes into the restaurant one night last month, walks back into the kitchen to see me, I look up from my veal cutlets and bang, I’m gone.”

  “Just like that?” Two days with May and what had Beck told himself minutes ago about how—

  “That’s all it took me, professor. You’d probably need to analyze it and write about it for a few months first.”

  Beck chuckled dryly. Touché. Though he’d give his method better odds of long-term success. “Yeah, that’s me. But I’m not the one who shoved his head between the planks of Mrs. Polansky’s back fence trying to see up her skirt and got stuck.”

  “Very true. Caution isn’t always a bad thing.” Jeffrey backed to the door. “I can’t stay, I just wanted to tell you in person about Mary and me in case you can’t make it Thursday. I was actually on my way to the library to meet her and I look over, boom, here you are in your fancy sex palace. Though if you ask me, the only difference between this place and the Easy Come Easy Go Motel is the price.”

  Beck laughed. His brother had a brilliant way of distilling the world into its essential elements.

  “Tell Mom I’ll try to be there Thursday.” He held the door open. “I’d like to see Mary again, and be there for your official announcement. I’m just not sure—”

  “I know, I know. You have to doodle your stories.”

  Beck shook his head in exasperation. “Something like that.”

  “Hey, we’re proud of what you do.” Jeffrey slapped him on the back. “We think you’re some kind of serious freak, but we’re all proud. Even Dad.”

  “Thanks.” He grinned, touched in spite of himself. “I think.”

  “See you Thursday, maybe.”

  A stunning female uniformed member of housekeeping walked by in the hall behind Jeffrey, and smiled alluringly at Beck. “Good morning, Mr. Desmond.”

  “Good morning.”

  Jeffrey watched her rear undulate down the hall. “Whoa. You duh man here, huh? Why don’t you bring a date on Thursday? We’re all starting to think you’re turning queer.”

  Beck sighed and banished the image of May bewildered by his overwhelming family. “Not queer, just working too hard. But that will be over on Friday. For a while at least.”

  “Cool. Well if you can’t come Thursday, stop by the restaurant over the weekend. Mary’s helping out to give Mom a day or two off.”

  “Sounds good.” He said goodbye to his brother, got an awkward hug and closed the door. He hadn’t been back to the restaurant for a while, and for a second he missed it retroactively. The cheesy, cheery comfortable decor, the noxious music, the overwhelming portions of good honest food. People loved the place, had loved it for over a generation.

  At the same time, Jeffrey’s visit had only underscored how uncomfortable he felt with his own family, how different he was not only in coloring—he took after his father’s sister—but in temperament. He brought up a mental picture of May’s quiet sophistication—like he’d been thinking of much else for the past two days?—and felt even more drawn to her.

  More than that, after his brother’s drive-by visit, Beck’s reasons for avoiding her pull were suddenly and thoroughly exposed as cowardly and unconvincing, especially seen through Jeffrey’s testosterone-guided eyes. If Jeff could fall in love with a glance, at very least Beck could go for a second date.

  And didn’t that make him sound like a wild player.

  8

  Note on Exhibit A waitstaff board:

  Beck Desmond is going to be at Exhibit A tonight. Ladies, I know he’s tempting but I want good behavior all around.

  Frank

  Note scrawled on bottom:

  When we’re good, we’re good. When we’re bad, we’re better!

  A LITTLE APPREHENSIVE May descended to the basement level of HUSH. Beck’s invitation to meet at a room called Exhibit A had come in a phone call after her postlunch swim and before an indulgent afternoon nap. They’d chatted briefly and, to her disappointment, impersonally. After last night, she’d hoped for something more. But he was probably in the middle of working, and what did she expect anyway, heavy breathing? At least during the call she’d managed to keep her voice cheerful and had accepted his invitation with a combination of thrill and relief.

  Thrill because she’d see him again. Relief because…she’d see him again. And get another chance to figure out what she was feeling. She’d decided during her swim that Clarissa and her morning glories had a point. She’d play down Veronica tonight. Give Beck the real May and see how he reacted. If all went well, then…

  Hang on, May. One minute at a time. She needed to enjoy being with him tonight and stop the whole what-about-tomorrow anxiety.

  The elevator doors opened; she stepped out into a low-ceilinged white narrow hallway. A sign had been painted on the wall opposite her, black lettering and an arrow pointing left: Exhibit A.

  What was this place? Why did he want to meet here? He’d mumbled something about more research, but he couldn’t possibly expect her to repeat last night’s performance in public. Even the hotel literature was vague on the subject. Something about low lights and privacy and tasteful live entertainment. Of course if the couple in the hot tub was anything to go by, there seemed to be plenty of live entertainment happening all over.

  Twenty yards on the left, a doorway painted black, with a white sign, Exhibit A. May put her hand to the door. Music sounded faintly inside, an anemic female vocal over a pulsing beat. She didn’t love going into places she couldn’t see into. And she didn’t love that no one else was around.

  But if Beck was in there, she’d do it.

  She tentatively pushed the swinging door; it gave easily. Her first impressions: cool air, semidarkness, dim blue lights that cast an eerie glow and smoke. Lots of smoke. She grimaced, anticipating a choking cigarette smell at the same time her senses registered none. The “smoke” probably came from a fog machine like the one her high school drama department had rented when they’d put on Brigadoon.

  Banquettes and tables facing center lined the walls and filled the room, some empty, some inhabited. She squinted through the blue cavelike gloom for Beck and came up empty. The music enveloped her, the crooning voice, words she couldn’t understand, and under it that insistent beat keeping time with her thudding heart.

  In the middle of the room, a stage—a platform, really—spotlit with a smoky white-blue glare. On the platform, a man and a woman, short hair slicked back, faces impassive, two perfect bodies each wearing a G-string…and nothing else. They posed facing each other, the woman lunging to the right, the man to his left, their arms encircling each other, mimicking caresses without touching anywhere. May watched, the thump of music in her chest, while the man’s broad hands stroked a path through the air over the woman’s body where a lover’s touch would travel. The sight was beautiful and erotic, weird and entrancing at the same time.

  But where was Beck?

  The instant she had the thought, she saw him. He was making his way toward her, smiling that smile that made her energy and spirits rise like a hot-air balloon. Someone should market the man as an antidepressant.

  “Hello, May.” Even lit a ghostly blue, he still managed to look wildly sexy and her heart shifted away from the music’s beat to launch into a skittering solo. She smiled back, hoping the blue look suited her equally. He took her hand and led her toward his table; she followed, watching his hair glisten blue-blond then blue-brown as he traveled in and out of the light.

  They reached his banquette and table; the curving high sides would hide t
hem from parties on the left and right, but permitted a full view of the stage. The high cloth-covered table gave a further sense of privacy from the spread of the room in front of them, and gave May a pretty good idea what the room was for.

  Sex in semipublic? Exhibit A as in exhibitionism? She braced herself for panic and found herself more excited than anxious. Had Veronica come along tonight after all? Maybe it hadn’t sunk in yet. Or maybe the hotel had temporarily transformed her.

  Maybe everything felt right when she was with Beck.

  She slid along the couch, not caring that her yellow miniskirt with the double rows of pleats at the hem slid up her leg. She’d been tempted to wear something more demure to go with her more discreet makeup application, something more like the real her, like the skirt from her traveling suit. In the end, she couldn’t bring herself to look that plain, and settled on this yellow number instead, and an off-shoulder white knit top with a double layer of fabric over her breasts that was supposed to function as a built-in bra. On her way out of the room, she’d stopped impulsively and kicked off her panties, then left quickly before she changed her mind.

  At the time she figured no one but her would know. In her persona as May she was unlikely to end up in Beck’s room unless he seemed serious about a relationship with her.

  But now…tonight…here, in this exciting atmosphere…maybe she’d get to share her secret with Beck right here, which would make it less secret but ten times more exciting. And why wasn’t she freaking?

  “You look beautiful. But then you always do.”

  May smiled, loving the compliment, wanting to tell him that he made her feel beautiful just by being with him.

  So maybe she should. Besides, she’d promised herself all-May, all the time. “You make me feel beautiful.”

  Instead of beaming and complimenting her further, his eyes narrowed. “Is that a new experience for you?”

  A flicker of surprise revealed that Dan criticized her appearance more than he praised it. Funny how easy it was to get so used to behavior that you didn’t notice it anymore. They’d been together such a long time—when had she stopped noticing?

  “Hi, I’m Jessie, I’ll be serving you this evening. Can I get you a drink?” A stunning dark-haired leggy waitress in a blue and white swirling patterned minidress stood perfectly poised, full lips puckered, eyes devouring Beck.

  Grrrreow. May slipped out of one yellow high heel, which frankly, was ridiculously uncomfortable, and hooked her foot around Beck’s calf, reached and drew a languid finger down the short hair at the nape of his neck. “What do you feel like drinking?”

  She almost called him darling, but didn’t want to push her luck.

  Beck turned amused blue-gray eyes to her that nearly took her breath away, as they did practically every time he looked at her. If they were together a long time would she stop noticing, the way she had with Dan?

  “Ever had a mojito?”

  A mo-hee-what? Veronica would have had millions. But she wasn’t Veronica tonight. “Never.”

  “Two mojitos.” He didn’t take his eyes off May, which suited her fine. Jessie nodded and undulated away, defeat accepted graciously.

  “A mojito?” She took her arm back from behind him. Catty point made, it seemed too forward to be touching him, though her fingers desperately wanted to go exploring. “What did I just get myself into?”

  “Rum, mint and lime.”

  “Hmm, sounds dangerous.” Veronica’s throaty voice came out of her mouth and May blinked. Where had she come from?

  “It can be.” He slid a finger from her knee down to her bare toe. Any other man could touch her like that and she’d smile politely. Beck’s finger made her pretty sure her shin had a G-spot. “That’s the fun of it.”

  “Mmm, I think I’ll like that kind of fun.” More Veronica. What was she doing? She pitched her voice higher and sat up straighter. “You’ve never been down here before?”

  “No. I’ve explored most of the rest of the hotel by myself. This place seemed better with company.” Again that smile that brightened her universe. “I’m glad I met you.”

  He said the words casually enough, but watched her carefully, which made her nervous. How to respond? Glibly? Carefully? In a you’re-my-best-buddy manner?

  “I’m glad, too.” To her horror her voice came out thick with emotion. Please, God, let the music in the room be loud enough to camouflage the evidence of her inane infatuation.

  If she revealed that much May all at once he’d run screaming out into the night. Desperately needing a change of subject, she gestured toward the models, then did a double take. They’d moved—maybe they were still moving?—but with the perfect control of dancers, until the woman stood straight, arms and face reaching for the ceiling, back arched slightly. The man had bent forward, his face an inch from her right breast, lips parted as if an invisible wall was keeping him from his goal.

  The woman’s eyes closed, the glitter in her exotic heavy eye shadow caught the bright light, her dark hair gleamed, her chest rose and fell in the exaggerated breathing of arousal, bringing her nipple close to the man’s reaching lips, then away, then back. The music swelled, then settled into a steady, hot rhythm.

  May arched her chest forward before she realized what she was doing. She wanted to see the man’s lips close over the skin of the small perfect breast, wanted to see the woman’s impassive expression melt into pleasure.

  What had this hotel done to her?

  “Look at them.” Beck’s voice was close to her ear. “Very sexy.”

  His scent reached her and May did a little melting into pleasure of her own. She wanted to turn and offer him her mouth, plow her fingers through his cool spiky hair, pull his head to her breast to give her what the woman on stage was being denied.

  “Yes. It’s…lovely.” Lovely? Hot, sensual, arousing.

  “If someone described this place, I wouldn’t have thought ‘lovely.’”

  “No.” She looked away from the posing couple, drawn by Beck’s voice. Again, she took a dive into those fabulous eyes and realized what people meant by drowning in someone’s gaze. What was it about him that affected her so powerfully? Lust? Atmosphere? Did it have more to do with who she wanted to be or who he was? Right now, with the pulsing beat, the dim lights and the skillful illusion of privacy at their table, she didn’t care. The now-familiar thrill, the desire to be daring pushed at her again.

  He gazed down at her mouth and the gaze hit her like a kiss—her lips tingled; her nipples pushed out the stretchy fabric of her top, which drew his eyes down and spread the tingling farther.

  She wanted him. Right here, right now, in front of everyone. What the hell was the matter with her?

  “Here you go.” Jessie served them two tall cloudy drinks with lime wedges in the bottom and mint leaves floating on the surface, bringing May back from her absurd need to be naked every time Beck was within two feet of her.

  “Here’s to Hush.”

  May clinked her glass with Beck’s and took her first sip of the tangy, minty, slightly sweet liquid—an admittedly large sip. “Delicious.”

  He fished a mint leaf out of his drink, leaned over and tickled it over her lips, then fed her. She accepted the offering, letting her tongue brush over his fingers, wanting to draw one in and suck. Instead, she straightened so his hand lost contact. He pulled it back. “I discovered mojitos on a trip to Miami one year.”

  “Do you travel a lot?” She congratulated herself. Do you travel a lot? had nothing to do with sex.

  “A fair amount. This is the first book I’ve set in my home city. You can’t describe any place as well as the one you live in.” He took another mint leaf, used it as a brush to paint her lips with rum and lime, then let her capture it between her teeth. “As they say, ‘Write what you know.’”

  “Yes, I’ve heard that.” She was dying. On fire. She wanted him to touch her again, again and again, absolutely everywhere. “Why haven’t you used New York before
this?”

  Her question seemed to take him aback, which meant he didn’t dip into rum for the next mint leaf, which meant he didn’t reach to touch her again, which meant she was immensely disappointed. “I’m not sure. Maybe because I live here, it didn’t feel that exotic to me. Not much of a fantasy place.”

  “So this book is more real to you?”

  He stopped with his drink pressed against his amazingly sexy mouth, then pulled it down and held the glass with both hands between his knees. “I hadn’t thought about it like that. Maybe…it will end up that way.”

  She nodded politely, but he’d said the last sentence slowly, looking at her as if he’d never seen her before, and something about the intensity in his eyes caused a mass butterfly migration in her stomach. Why would this book end up more real? Did that have something to do with her?

  “Have you done a lot of traveling?” He asked in a polite conversational tone and May wished like mad they were back to mint leaf art.

  “Oh…” Hesitation she couldn’t quite control ambushed her; she was so used to hiding May—or so ashamed of her—she couldn’t let herself out without an effort. “No. Not really. I’d like to do more.”

  “Where would you like to go?”

  Where wouldn’t she? “Paris, for a start.”

  “City of lovers.”

  “Yes.” She sipped her mojito, searching frantically for some other topic, to stop herself thinking how much she wanted him to say he’d take her there next week.

  The music changed to a more sultry beat. Fresh smoke blew in and swirled blue-white around the models. The woman executed a slow, controlled back-bend until she had one hand on the floor, the other raised high, head hanging down. Her partner supported her, one arm at the small of her back, his other raised to the ceiling. For a few moments it seemed they were holding still. May gripped her glass, hardly breathing, trying to control her anticipation. Beside her, Beck didn’t move. The whole bar seemed to freeze, waiting for what would happen next.