Tease Me Tonight

by Jules Court

  * * *

  Elizabeth floated back into her seat. She could feel the goofy grin on her face but was powerless to remove it. When she sat down she was instantly assailed by eight sets of curious eyes.

  “Who was that guy?” Cindy asked.

  “He looks cute from over here,” Jenna added. “Is he cute?”

  Marissa narrowed her eyes. “He kind of looks familiar.”

  “Don’t stare,” Cindy said.

  “He’s coming over here, so you can all check him out,” Elizabeth said. “And he’s bringing shots.” She casually looked around the bar, pretending that she hadn’t been staring at Will, waiting for him to come back to her like she was an eager puppy. He was only a guy she’d just met—someone to practice her rusty flirting skills on.

  She inadvertently caught the eye of a cute, preppy-type dude at a neighboring table. He smiled at her and gave a casual salute with his beer bottle. It would be a simple thing to just smile back. It would be enough encouragement for him to come over. Hooking up was a numbers game and a table of nine women was just good math. He’d probably bring his friends—more guys to practice on.

  She quickly looked away.

  Will approached carrying a tray laden with filled shot glasses. He moved as good as he looked, nimbly balancing the tray while weaving through the crowd. “Ladies,” he said, placing the tray down on the table. His loose body posture suggested he wasn’t at all shy approaching a table full of women.

  Definitely a player. Good thing she was ready to play. No pain, no loss, no grief, no feelings except pleasure.

  He snagged a chair and dragged it next to Elizabeth’s seat, giving her a conspiratorial grin as though they were old friends instead of almost strangers. When he sat down, his leg nudged hers. She pressed back, not sure if her boldness or his nearness was responsible for the shot of excitement that rippled through her.

  The rest of the bachelorette party attendees greeted him with waves and hellos except for Marissa. She drummed one set of glossy nails on the tabletop. “Do I know you?” she asked.

  Will’s smile stayed fixed, but Elizabeth could feel his body tighten from where their legs touched. “I don’t think so,” he said pleasantly.

  “You look so familiar.”

  “I guess I just have one of those faces. So, who’s the bride-to-be? Let’s toast to her.”

  Elizabeth began passing out the shots. When everyone held one, she lifted her glass. “Here’s to Cindy and her soon-to-be husband, Todd. May all your ups and downs be between the sheets.”

  “I will definitely drink to that,” Cindy said.

  Elizabeth tipped back the shot glass and let the liquor burn down her throat. She gave a little shudder and slammed the empty glass on the table. Will was staring at her with another one of his smiles.

  “What?”

  “Aren’t you supposed to say ‘skål’ and chuck it in the fire?”

  “That makes no sense.”

  He reached for the napkin dispenser in the center of the table. “Does anyone have a pencil?”

  Purses were fished through until Cindy held a pen triumphantly aloft. “I do.”

  “Thanks.”

  Everyone watched as he scribbled something on the cocktail napkin. He finished with a flourish and then slid it over to Elizabeth.

  It was a sketch of a stereotypical Viking woman complete with braids and horned helmet. “Is this me?”

  “Only if you like it.”

  “It’s all right,” she said with mock indifference. She placed the napkin carefully in the inner pocket in her bag where it wouldn’t get torn.

  Cries of “Ooh, do me!” and “No, me next,” came from around the table.

  He did a quick succession of doodles—Cindy in a puffy white dress, Marissa as the Red Queen complete with a speech bubble of “off with their heads,” Jenna as Rosie the Riveter—until everyone had a cocktail napkin sketch of their own to tuck away. He made a show of shaking his hand out just as Vinnie brought another round of shots over.

  Cheers went around the table and the women grabbed for glasses. Elizabeth brushed fingers with Will when she reached for hers and it made her want to giggle like a twelve-year-old. He gave her a little wink, which should have been ridiculously cheesy. Instead, she had the sudden desire to drag him to a dark corner of the bar and see if he kissed as good as he talked.

  “Sláinte!” Will said.

  She tipped the shot back. And then realized she hadn’t thought about Megan for hours.

  * * *

  The shot went down faster than his good intentions. Elizabeth shuddered and slammed her shot glass down on the table. She looked up at him with a mischievous grin and he wanted to drag her into the bathroom and go for it right against the wall. A lightning-quick expression of worry crossed over her face. She pulled her phone out but then gave a little head shake, as though clearing away whatever thought she’d had.

  He held his hand out. “Give me your phone.”

  “What?”

  He waved his hand. “C’mon, blondie.”

  She passed over her phone. He held it up, gave a big grin, and snapped a selfie before going to her contacts and inputting his number. “Here you go.” He handed it back. “Call me.”

  She tilted her head to the side, moistened her lips...it would be so easy to take her hand and lead her from this bar, hail a cab, and try to keep their hands off each other during the trip to his apartment. They’d rush to his door, he’d fumble with the keys, anticipation and lust mixing in a cocktail stronger than the tequila. But then afterwards, he’d wake up next to a stranger, all the fun and excitement of the night reduced to a tawdry encounter. She’d slink out with smeared makeup and impractical shoes into the unforgiving daylight while he downed a pot of coffee with an aspirin chaser. He would promise to call and she’d pretend she wanted him to, but they’d never see each other again.

  This time would be different. He wasn’t going to keep making the same mistake.

  He summoned every ounce of willpower he possessed to stand up from the table. With a wave to the assembled women, he said, “Have a fun night.”

  “You’re leaving?” Elizabeth asked.

  “You have my number.” He walked out without a backwards glance, hoping like hell his gamble would pay off and she’d call him.

  Otherwise, he was just going to have to haunt the Thorny Rose in the hopes that someday she’d walk back in again.

  * * *

  Elizabeth clutched her phone dumbly as she watched her sure thing amble off. No big deal. Plenty of buses in the ocean/fishes that go by. So why did the night suddenly feel as deflated as an old beach ball?

  She turned back to the table, reminding herself that she was here to have fun and make some awesome new friends. “Who wants another round?” But she didn’t want to stay in this bar anymore. Change of scenery. Forget him. “Better idea. Let’s go over to the Hong Kong for scorpion bowls and meat on a stick.”

  Her suggestion was met with a round of cheers and they trooped out giddily into the warm night, a much livelier group than they’d been pre-shots and pre-Will.

  Chapter Two

  The sound of the front door slamming shut jolted Elizabeth awake. She pried her face from the couch cushion, but her lashes were gummed together with crusty mascara and it took a moment to open her eyes. She blinked at the late morning sun streaming through the drapes, and that small movement was enough to set off the drill jackhammering in her head.

  She clutched her temples. “Fuck.”

  Her sister Megan’s voice rang out through the house. “Hello!”

  “In the living room,” she croaked from an abused throat. She had a hazy memory of yelling “woo” a lot. Her body was also one big muscle ache. She was too old to be sleeping on the couch
and definitely too old to be dropping it like it was hot on the dance floor.

  She managed to sit up just as Megan entered the room. “What are you doing here?”

  Megan put her hands on her hips and surveyed the room. “Better question is, what have you been doing without me?”

  An open bag of chips lay on the coffee table next to a sleeve of Oreos—Elizabeth had obviously done a little drunk eating when she got in. She looked down at herself. She was still wearing all her clothes minus one shoe and half her makeup was smeared on the couch cousin. Her bra was digging into her mercilessly. Damn torture device.

  “Fun night?” Megan asked.

  Elizabeth put a hand to her aching head. “Not so loud. And none of your business.” She dropped her hand. “Wait a minute. What are you doing home? I thought you were going to stay on campus this weekend and try and meet some people.”

  “I’m happy to see you too,” Megan said.

  “You know I don’t mean it like that.” Elizabeth patted the couch cushion in invitation, but Megan only crossed her arms and planted her feet. “It’s just if you keep coming home every weekend, you’re not going to settle in. College is great, but you have to give it a chance. I know it’s scary right now and you don’t know anyone, but you have to try.”

  “Whatever,” Megan said.

  Elizabeth took the lack of eye rolling as a positive sign that just maybe some of her words penetrated Megan’s defensive grid, so she pressed pause on the lecture. Besides, her heart wasn’t in it. She was too busy wishing for an IV line and a banana bag—a mix of fluids, vitamins, and minerals they gave patients in the hospital, which turned out to also be awesome for hangovers. She didn’t know that from personal experience, though. Her last hangover had been over eight years ago.

  “You must have gotten up early to get here in the morning,” Elizabeth said. Megan was a freshman at UMass in Amherst, which was at least a two-hour drive away.

  “It’s noon.”

  “What?” Elizabeth sprang off the couch and instantly regretted it, clutching her head from the ensuing waves of agony. Her stomach churned and she swallowed against the sour taste in her mouth. “Let this be a lesson to you, young lady. Alcohol is poison.”

  “Yes, and I shouldn’t drink, but if I do I should never let my drink out of my sight or let anyone else mix it for me, and never get in the car with someone who’s been drinking, but I should call you and you’ll come get me—wait, does that part still apply?”

  “No, because ride-sharing apps are a thing now.” She staggered into the kitchen and pulled the coffee out of the refrigerator. She didn’t have to turn around to know Megan was already pouring water in the coffeemaker and taking out two mugs. The familiarity of the routine was soothing. As much as she wanted Megan to stay at school and carve out a life there, to enjoy the total college experience that Elizabeth had given up, she was selfishly happy to have her home. They could watch movies and eat pizza in their usual Saturday night ritual.

  She gave Megan a playful hip check to move her away from the coffeemaker and scooped coffee into the machine. There was only one mug laid out. “You’re not having any?”

  “I had mine when it was still morning.”

  “You can watch me drink mine while you talk to me, then. Tell me about your classes.”

  Megan shrugged. “They’re whatever.”

  “You don’t believe me now,” Elizabeth said, “but these are going to be some of the best years of your life.” She placed a hand gently on Megan’s shoulder. “I want more for you than just staying in this town.”

  Megan shrugged off her hand. “Like you did?” She turned away with a “Sorry I wrecked your life.”

  Elizabeth took a deep breath against the churning in her gut and gentled her voice. “You didn’t wreck my life. I love you. You know you mean everything to me.”

  “I know. That’s the problem,” Megan said. “I just need you to back off.”

  “Megan—”

  “I’m out of here.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I guess nowhere,” Megan shot back before storming off, leaving Elizabeth all alone with her hangover. She knew Megan was having a tough adjustment. It didn’t make it any easier when Megan took it out on her, though. Especially since Megan wasn’t the only one struggling.

  One cup of coffee, two aspirin, and three glasses of water later, she dragged herself upstairs to the bathroom ready to scrub away the traces of last night’s drunken foolery.

  While Elizabeth stood in the shower, bracing herself against the cold tile wall, Megan’s words echoed in her head. God, she did need to get laid. She loved sex—at least, she remembered loving sex. She just hadn’t had it with another person since that night a phone call changed her whole world.

  Before that night, she’d been a junior in college majoring in beer pong with a minor in boys. All that had changed in the seconds it took a drunk driver to cross two lanes of traffic and slam her parents’ car into a tree. One person’s criminal negligence and Elizabeth’s world changed forever.

  When the hospital called, she’d thought one of her sorority sisters was playing a horrible prank on her. What the woman on the other end of the line was saying couldn’t possibly be true. She’d just talked to her parents on the phone earlier that morning.

  To this day, she couldn’t remember how she’d gotten home that night. When she pulled into the driveway of the house she grew up in, she couldn’t remember ever even getting into her car, never mind the drive from UNH. Mrs. Connolly from next door was sitting in the living room watching ten-year-old Megan, who was tucked up in a tight ball in the corner of the couch. Megan, her parents’ late-in-life miracle baby and now all Elizabeth had left of them. She had to be strong because Megan needed her.

  They’d buried Sam and Hope Owens on a bitterly cold February morning. Elizabeth stood in the snowy cemetery with Megan’s little hand clinging to hers and promised she’d always take care of her. With the insurance money, she paid off the mortgage so Megan could stay in their home and enrolled in the local nursing school. She was going to need a reliable job to make good on her promise.

  And now Megan was leaving the nest. This was what Elizabeth had wanted. She wanted Megan to have everything. She wanted her to experience that freedom she remembered from her UNH days. Classes and parties and boys and new friends. Coffee and Red Vines fueled all-night study sessions, sharing talk about boys with her friends, analyzing the contents of a text message like they were decoding encrypted secrets, dancing at parties like the morning would never come. She would never have these things again, but Megan could.

  After her shower, she staggered to her bedroom. The same room she’d lived in her entire life minus two years. It hadn’t seemed right to immediately move into her parents’ room, even though it was the master. That felt disrespectful. She’d thought in time she’d move out of her childhood room, but it just never happened. The only concession she’d made toward her new adult status was trading her single bed for a queen and taking down the boy band posters.

  She crawled into bed with the intention of napping, but sleep wouldn’t come. She tossed and turned for a few minutes before giving up in disgust. She grabbed her bag off the ground next to her bed and dumped out the contents, looking for her phone. A cocktail napkin drifted out. It was the picture of her Will had scribbled last night.

  Had his eyes really been that impossibly green? And why hadn’t she just hauled him into the ladies’ room and had her way with him when she had the chance? The rest of the night had been a bit of a drunken blur, but one thing she was certain of: she hadn’t flirted with any other men.

  Would he have been gentle or rough—tossing her up on the bathroom vanity, shoving her short skirt up her thighs so ruthlessly it tore? His hands tangling in her hair, shoving her head back so he could plunder he
r mouth with kisses...or maybe he’d be playful, teasing, his fingers sliding up her inner thighs almost to where she so desperately wanted them before a sneaky retreat left her wanting.

  She opened the bottom drawer of her nightstand and gently placed the napkin inside. And then she opened the top drawer. The one advantage to having the house to herself—her noisy friend could come out to play. Her pussy was already wet with anticipation. It wouldn’t take more than a minute with her vibrator for her to come.

  The chime of an incoming text message sounded. She placed her vibrator on the nightstand and picked up her phone. It was from Marissa. It said, I figured out how I knew your mystery man, followed by a link. Then, Click on October.

  Elizabeth clicked. The link went to a website with a calendar featuring Boston area firefighters with proceeds to benefit local animal shelters. She navigated over to the October page only to be confronted by a picture of a shirtless Will with the yellow firefighter pants, red suspenders, and helmet. And the best part, other than his well-oiled six-pack, was the floppy-eared puppy cuddled in his brawny arms.

  Her whole body instantly went up in flames. Without thought, she slid a hand down her body to between her legs and touched herself lightly.

  Was she going to get herself off to a picture of a guy who’d probably forgotten about her five minutes after leaving the Thorny Rose? After all, she’d done everything but give him a lap dance to show him she was interested. For all she knew he’d been on his way to meet another woman. A guy like him would only be single by choice.

  But he’d given her his number before he’d left. Which was probably his standard move. He was probably in more than one phone under “booty call.”

  She looked at the picture some more—those abs, those arms, that cocky grin. Maybe it was time she made her own booty call. It wasn’t like she was looking for a boyfriend right now. It was time to have some fun and explore her new freedom, not mope around. And Will looked like all kinds of fun.

  She scrolled through her contacts after one more long, lingering gaze at his picture. Not that she needed it. The image was emblazoned on her brain.