Moore To Love

by Faith Andrews

  “Oh my God, guys. I’m not talking about my nether regions.”

  “Well, we should, because it’s been a while—I should know—and I’m calling my wax girl right now to get you an appointment.” Tatum whips out her phone and starts to swipe away but I snatch if from her before she has a chance to make said call to said wax girl.

  “Stop it! All of you! First of all, if you must know,” I lower my voice so the whole world doesn’t hear. “I already have a very nicely groomed garden, thank you very much.”

  Tatum and Ashley share a prideful glance. What is it with these two? Is nothing sacred anymore? I ignore their happiness over my who-ha and continue. “And second of all, can I just freaking relish in this accomplishment for one second without having to worry about the next thing I want to cross off my list? I mean, cut a girl some slack. I’ve been skinny—well, skinnier—all of three minutes and the four of you are like Chuck Woolery from the Match Game.”

  “I think you mean Gene Rayburn. Chuck Woolery was the host of the Love Connection. Get your game show hosts straight, doll.” G.I. Jane a Game Show trivia guru? Who woulda thunk?

  “Whatever. You know what I mean.” I roll my eyes.

  “Ash, you saw that! Go get Mr. Martini! She rolled her eyes again.” Tatum—the bitch who’s supposed to have my back over every other chick at this table—throws me under the bus and sets Ashley dashing toward the bar.

  “Ashley!” I call out. “Don’t you dare!”

  But she dares. Before I can hide under the table in embarrassment, my soon-to-be sister-in-law—make that my soon-to-be-dead sister-in-law—is cozying up to one of the hottest specimens I’ve ever seen this side of the Hudson.

  It’s funny because when he comes over to introduce himself, that’s exactly what his name is.

  Hudson regales us all for the next half hour, his eyes never leaving my fidgeting hands. No one else seems to notice it, but it’s hard for me not to since I seem to have his constant attention. No matter what he says, I can’t stop squirming. He mentions his French Bulldog puppy and I squirm. He goes on and on about an art show he attended at his friend’s gallery last week, and I squirm. The dude belches, and I squirm. There is nothing that comes out of this handsome man’s mouth that doesn’t have me wiggling around in my seat and clenching my thighs with nerves.

  “Leni, can I buy you another?” Hudson points to my empty glass and his pearly whites sparkle like the ones in the toothpaste commercials.

  This time, I don’t squirm, but I do almost fall off my chair. “Um—um—you—”

  Ashley cuts in and saves the day. “Yes, Hudson. Leni would love another. In fact, why don’t you grab it and she’ll meet you back at the bar after she freshens up.”

  I’m momentarily dumbfounded and I fear oxygen has stopped pumping to my brain. Did this guy really just ask me—out of all the beautiful women at this table—if he can buy me a drink? And did I just stutter like a bumbling fool and have my friend do the talking for me? God, right about now would be the perfect time for a meteor to hit New York City like it does in so many end-of-the-world movies. Please, please, pretty please?

  But the world keeps on spinning and Hudson merely nods as he walks toward the bar, looking over his shoulder for another glance at me.

  When he’s out of earshot, my fantastic four huddles close and giggles. “Leni’s getting laid, Leni’s getting laid,” Tatum chants and the rest join in.

  I look around to make sure no one can hear and my cheeks and ears become so hot and tingly I must be ninety shades of crimson. “Guys! Please! Stop it! You’re making me uncomfortable.”

  “Oh, I bet Hudson can remedy that. Don’t you think so, Janie?” Mandy does her best giddy girl, kissing her wife at the nape of her neck.

  “I wouldn’t know since he’s doesn’t have the kind of equipment I like to play with, but—I don’t have to be a man-loving woman to see that that man digs you, Leni. You better cut the shy schoolgirl act and give him what he wants!”

  “And what exactly is it that you think he wants? I have no idea what Ashley said to him to make him come over here, but I’m sure he’s not at that bar pining over me.”

  “And that’s where you’re wrong, Madeline Moore.” Ashley downs the last of her Cosmo and slams the empty on the table. “He asked if you were single before I even invited him to join us. Dude’s definitely interested, so run with it and shut the hell up.”

  I’m usually quick with a comeback, but not this time. I’m floored. If Ashley’s telling the truth, this is a first. A thousand negative scenarios run through my head, but I notice that he’s alone, without a group of buddies to heckle with. Images of Alex and his frat boy dare make me uneasy, but this man is no frat boy and he’s not with anyone who can dare him to do anything.

  Could it be? Does he actually find me attractive?

  “Say something, I’m giving up on you,” Tatum sings.

  I take a second to collect myself, to let it all sink in. I’ve worked hard and it’s finally paying off. I may not be exactly where I want to be, but hell, Hudson doesn’t know that and he doesn’t seem to care that I’m a little curvier than most of the women here tonight. As much as it scares me to step outside my comfort zone, I deserve this and I’m going for it.

  Lowering off the stool, I grab my clutch and smooth out my new top. Boldness takes over as I gulp the last sip of Tatum’s wine and announce. “Well, butter my biscuit! I’m glad my garden’s in good shape. If anyone needs me, I’ll be over there flirting with my Hudson.”

  I’M NOT BUTTERING MY OWN biscuit for very long. In fact, after two more drinks and lots of flirting, Hudson leans in with dreamy bedroom eyes and soft, sweet breath against my ear, “Can I take you back to my place, baby?”

  Baby. Me? Baby! That term of endearment has never been uttered from a man’s lips while directed at me. Unless of course you count the time my brother pointed at me at the fifth grade dance and announced that “nobody puts Baby in the corner” because I was sulking over not being asked to dance.

  But this has a totally different, sexier, suggestive connotation. And I fucking love it. Something comes over me. Be it the alcohol, my new confidence, or the vibe Hudson’s rubbing off on me, and I pull him by the collar and whisper back, “Yes, please. I’m all yours.”

  Hudson takes my hand and kisses my knuckles, then nods to the bartender for our check. I excuse myself to say my goodbyes to my girls with a smile brighter than the north freaking star. I can already see the crazed looks on their face when I tell them I’m going home with Mr. Martini.

  “Ladies,” I interrupt their chit chat.

  They all look up at me with puppy dog stares. I think I see Tatum wiping drool from her face as she slips her waggling tongue back inside her mouth.

  “Wow. Were you guys watching us the whole time?”

  “Yes!” They all broadcast.

  “God, get a life.”

  “Who needs one when yours is so entertaining at the moment? Damn, Leni, that guy has not taken his eyes or his hands off you since you sat down next to him.” Ashley is a giddy fool, beaming with excitement. I have to hand it to her. It’s sweet that she’s rooting for me.

  “Well, it’s time to call it a night.”

  Looking a little disappointed, Ash and Tatum pull their bags off their chairs, and Mandy and Jane rise from their seats. The four of them dig into their wallets and throw some money onto the high-top table.

  Oh! They must’ve got the wrong idea. They think I’m going home with them. I reach into my clutch, pull out my lip gloss, and reapply it with a cocky smack of my lips. “You guys don’t have to leave yet. I just came to say goodnight because Hudson invited me back to his place.”

  The look on Tatum’s face is priceless. I wish I had my phone in my hand because I’d snap that shit so quick she wouldn’t know what hit her. “Are you serious? O.M.G. You’re serious!”

  “As a heart attack. I’ll text you in the morning. Thanks for celebrating with me.” I
act as nonchalant as I can when on the inside I’m screaming for advice and for someone to hold my hand.

  As I turn to reunite with Hudson, I hear them mumbling behind me. Giggles, snickers, and oh my god’s fill the air as I sashay my way back to the man who’s about to cure my dry spell.

  Ashley rushes up behind me, followed closely by Tatum. They both take turns barking out orders in the form of pert whispers.

  “Make sure he wears a condom.”

  “Have fun.”

  “Be yourself; that’s what snagged him in the first place.”

  “Call me if you need a ride home.”

  “Call me if he does anything stupid.”

  “Ride him like the stallion he is.”

  “Okay, that’s enough. Goodnight. I’ll call you tomorrow with a full report. Happy?”

  “Ecstatic.” Ashley croons.

  “Delighted.” Tatum beams.

  “Buh-bye.” I wave and find my way into the arms of a man who, two hours ago, was just a good looking stranger from a daydream.

  The walk back to Hudson’s is surprising. He’s chatty, funny, and polite. I find him reaching for my hand as we turn the corner after the bar, and I gladly accept his offer by tangling my fingers with his.

  “I don’t usually do this,” he admits.

  I find that hard to believe but I go along with his rouse. “I don’t ever do this, so I got you beat.”

  “Not possible. A girl with your curves and those eyes—I was shocked when your friend told me you’re single.”

  Oh, Hudson. Keep feeding my ego because the two pieces of grilled chicken I had for dinner aren’t doing shit to curb my hunger. Fortunately, a different kind of hunger is at the forefront of my mind. “You’re extremely flattering. Thank you.” I don’t usually know how to accept a compliment. Then again, it’s been a while since a man had something nice to say about me.

  We walk the rest of the way making small talk about the weather and simply enjoying each other’s company. He stops a few yards from a building with a doorman outside. This must be his place. Before I have time to ask, I’m pinned against a brick wall with a strong, roving hand tugging at my hair. “Oh my,” I breathe when Hudson’s lips are an inch from mine, his gaze dark and seductive.

  “I’ve been wanting to do this all night.” It’s the last thing he says before his lips crash to mine and a thousand sparks I’ve long since forgotten could exist flicker within.

  I’m dying for control of my hands so I can grab his hair, his arms, his ass, but they’re pinned against the wall above my head in the sexiest position I’ve ever been in. I moan against his mouth as our tongues slide and tangle together, and before I can fight the urge to break free of his hold, his lips leave mine and his arm is curled around my waist.

  “Come. Upstairs. Now.”

  I never knew how sexy a demanding man could be. I mean, my dad’s demanding in the “get me another brewskie, Josie” sort of way, but this—Hudson can order me around any which way he pleases.

  I giggle past the doorman, float on over to the elevator, and once inside, Hudson narrows his dark stare my way, asking, “Ever do this before?”

  For a split second I think he’s asking me if I’m a virgin, but when I see him eyeing the elevator buttons I wise up. “No,” I answer, biting my lip.

  “Good.”

  With that, Hudson’s finger presses the stop button and the elevator jerks to a halt. “Is this safe?” I ask, my nerves getting the best of me.

  “Who cares,” he states rather than asks, lunging at me with a look that can only be described as animalistic.

  Holy shit! Mandy was right! Hudson just made me a gym lover. I mean, I know it’s shallow to think that he’s only interested in me because I lost a little weight, but what else gives? Three months ago, I wasn’t getting the attention of gorgeous men sipping martinis and tonight I am. Lectures from the past from loved ones ring loud and hauntingly in my head as Hudson continues to adorn my neck with warm kisses. I am worthy. I always have been. I’m the same person I’ve always been. He’s attracted to me because I’m me. If I say it enough it’ll become a mantra. 220 or 183, I’m still the same old Madeline Moore, but with a drop more confidence now that I like what I see.

  “Madeline?” Hudson interrupts my thoughts, moaning against my neck as his tongue licks a trail inside the curve of my ear.

  “Hudson?”

  “I’m going to fuck you right here.”

  Well, hello! Glad to oblige.

  “You can have me wherever you want me.”

  And have me he does.

  Here, there, and everywhere.

  Four times that night I scream out his name. Four times that night I nearly cry at how good it feels to be adored this way by a man again. Four times that night I swear I will never, ever, succumb to any of my old habits again. Because, damn it, the pain of pushing myself and learning to overcome the self doubt was worth every ounce of sweet ecstasy Hudson bestowed on me that night. The night I allowed a handsome stranger to fuck the insecurities right out of me.

  YOU KNOW THAT SCENE IN the Sound of Music where Julie Andrews spins around and sings “The hills are alive with the sound of music?”

  Well, that’s me this morning. Except, instead of bellowing from the grassy knolls and mountains of Austria, it’s just me, in my shower, singing the praises of last night’s tryst with Hudson.

  What a few orgasms and some manly hands all over your body can do to lighten your mood. Not to mention, your ego. There’s something to be said about being worshiped by a man’s lips and adored by his tongue. Mmmm. The thought has me weak in the knees all over again.

  It’s been years—I mean, years—since I’ve felt this good about myself. Hell! This good in general. Call me crazy, but I really don’t care that it took a man to breathe that kind of confidence back into me. There’s a first step to every process and I’m ready to follow through with the rest.

  As I rinse the shampoo from my hair, I lace my fingers through the long locks the way Hudson did when he kissed me. While I lather my body with soap, I trace the curves of my new and improved shapely body, mirroring the stroke of his hands. “Oh, Hudson,” falls from my lips as my fingers dip between my legs and emulate the deft motions of the man whose name I recited over and over again last night. I bring myself to rapid breaths and erotic groans, an inch away from release. My impending eruption is cut short by a pounding on the bathroom door.

  “Leni, you bitch! You never called. Hey, you okay in there? I thought I heard you—oh, shit!”

  Oh shit, is right. I thought I was alone and here I am moaning and groaning with my fingers buried in my garden and my best friend as a witness. “Be right out!” I yell, wrapping up my long, luxurious shower with a turn of the knob to run colder water. Snap out of your sex-fog, Leni. She’s gonna want a full report, STAT.

  Faster than you can say orgasm stealer, I’m out of the shower and semi-ready to face my friend and her inquisition. I wrap a towel around my hair and another around my body as I smudge the steam from the vanity mirror. Refreshed—regardless of my lack of um . . . garden exploration—I inhale the thick, foggy air and smile at my reflection. “You did good, Leni. Be proud.”

  When I open the door, Tatum’s impatiently swinging her legs over the arm of my couch while flipping through Vogue. “About damn time, sexy lady. I was about to call the search and rescue party when you didn’t answer any of my calls!”

  Relentless. It should be her middle name. “Sorry for making you worry, even though I know you weren’t really worried, just nosey and mad that I didn’t call you as soon as I stepped out of Hudson’s reach.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah . . . now tell me all about that reach! How was it? How was he? Is he your new beau?”

  Whoa, Nellie. Seriously? “First of all,” I twist the Q-tip inside my ear with one hand and remove her legs from the arm of my off-white tweed upholstery with the other. “This isn’t a barn. Second of all, what ever happened to respecti
ng the privacy of others?”

  “Privacy?” she laughs, amusing no one but herself. “You screwed that theory in eighth grade when you made me show you how to insert a tampon. Plus—I heard you in there.” She points to the bathroom with a smirk. “I’m used to getting a nice welcome, but that—oooh, aaah, ohhhh—was pretty fancy, Len. Thanks. I’m flattered!”

  I snatch a throw pillow from behind me and toss it at her head. “Way to embarrass me, bitch! With friends like you, who needs enemies?”

  Tatum’s laughter turns into guttural cackles followed by excessive snorts. She raises her hands in surrender and shields her face from any further pillow flinging. “Continuation from last night, or remedying what didn’t happen?” She peeks through her fingers, testing the waters.

  “Continuation,” I mutter, my cheeks flushing.

  “You, dirty, dirty, ho! I’m so jealous!”

  “Why? You have a guy, and plenty waiting in the wings. What’s it to you if Hudson rocked my world—four times last night?”

  “Four! FOUR! Oh my God, Leni’s back!” She catapults from the couch and rushes over to the widow, drawing my curtains with a loud grind of the grommets against the rod. “You hear that, world? She’s back and better than ever!”

  This time, I laugh, allowing the humor in the moment to engulf me. It’s a good thing. I’m not the butt of the joke this time. Now, I’m the belle of the sexscapade ball. “Would you sit down and stop your nonsense?” I beg. She’s entertaining, but I have to get to the market and then to my parents’ so I don’t exactly have all the time in the world to gush on and on about my special night.

  Sensing my haste, Tatum sits next to me and looks me up and down.

  “What?” I ask when she doesn’t say anything.

  “You look different.”

  “Well, I lost 37 pounds. That could be it.”

  “No, that’s not it. I’ve never seen that part of you, you know that. You could be 600 pounds and you’d still be my gorgeous, funny biffle. But today—you look different! It must be the after-sex glow?”