by T. Torrest
Her fists knotted into my hair as payback, a deliberate seduction. I guessed she wasn’t going to let me have all the fun. Her cheek brushed across mine as she pulled back to gauge my reaction. Jesus, we were officially drunk, but everything about this just felt too good to protest. Our eyes locked in a heated gaze, neither one of us willing to break the spell.
What the hell is going on here?
The fog of drink combined with the dizziness of my accelerated pulse, creating a dreamlike haze in my brain, an intoxicating concoction that was proving impossible to resist.
Screw it. This is happening.
Without fully realizing what I was doing, I grabbed her hand and darted us over to a more private area behind the building, immediately backed her against the wall, and slammed my lips on hers.
She let out with just the slightest gasp of shock, and Jesus, the sound tore through my chest as I kissed her even harder. It felt good, though. She felt good.
Her muscles relaxed as she melted into me, and feeling her just give herself over to the moment turned me on even more. My heart was beating an unsteady rhythm in my chest; my arms were shaking; my cock was harder than I thought possible.
I tightened my arm around her waist, hitched her leg higher, and circled my hips against hers, pinning her to the wall with my body. She was clearly not expecting me to retaliate so eagerly, but she didn’t stop me.
Thank Christ.
The world disappeared as I felt her tongue licking my lips, causing me to meet her open mouth with my own. I couldn’t stop the humming in the back of my throat as I devoured her, tongues and limbs tangling, causing me to lose my mind.
Holy shit.
She stood on her tiptoes and pressed her tits against my chest, welcoming my attack, spurring me further.
My hand slipped under her skirt on its own, massaging the soft flesh at the back of her thigh as my tongue buried itself in her mouth, the rock-hard bulge in my jeans writhing against the thin silk of her panties. I didn’t even realize that I’d started pounding my body against hers.
Totally clothed.
Totally making out.
Totally. Fucking. Hot.
I didn’t ever want this feeling to end.
CHAPTER THIRTY
My brain felt like it was splitting in two the next morning. My entire body felt groggy. My mouth was dry.
I shuffled into the kitchen and slammed down a handful of Tylenol along with a huge glass of orange juice just to get my day started, but wound up slinking back into my bed immediately after.
I couldn’t get back to sleep, though.
Last night’s madness with Mia kept rolling around in my mind. As hot as that kiss was, I was fairly certain it was a one-shot deal. We were drunk and feeling pretty loose, and I guess she was just tossing me a mercy hookup.
I really hoped we hadn’t crossed some imaginary line that would prevent us from maintaining our friendship, however. I’d come to rely on her not only as a sounding board, but as an oasis from the stress.
Our friendship was awesome.
So was that kiss, though.
I couldn’t imagine there’d be a problem. We just got drunk and screwed around a little. I didn’t have a ton of experience to know for sure, but people do that all the time, right? It’s not like it had to mean anything. It’s not like Mia was going to be crazy-embarrassed or angry or awkward because of one drunken kiss.
Right?
I decided to give her a call just to be sure.
“Morning, Cruz.”
Her voice sounded even more out-of-it than mine. “Mmm. What time is it?”
Shit. I didn’t even think to check the clock before I picked up the phone, but I did it now. “A little after ten.” Phew.
“How much did we drink last night?”
“Too much.”
I could hear her rustling around on the other end of the line before her sultry, sleepy voice replied, “Worth it. Last night was fun.”
“Yeah. Yeah it was.” My brain flashed back to a few of our crazier moments from the night before, and my boxer briefs got a little tighter. Get a grip, Taggart. “Hey, so, uh...” I didn’t know how to bring up the subject. “We’re uh, we’re cool, right?”
“Well yeah. I mean... wait. What?”
“I just want to make sure we’re on the same page about... us.”
She perked up a little as she joked, “Are you asking me to go steady?”
“No. Don’t worry,” I laughed out nervously. “Just the opposite, in fact. I wanted to make sure we’re still friends.”
There was an extra beat of silence before she repeated, “Friends.”
“Yeah. We don’t want what happened last night to change anything between us, right?” Mia didn’t say anything, so I filled in the quiet. “You and me... We’re good together. We’re good friends. I don’t want to lose us over this. Plus, you know, we still have to work together.”
“Sooo, you’re saying you want to go back to business as usual.”
“Well, yeah. I know I don’t have a lot of experience, so I didn’t want you to think that our... you know, what happened between us... I just meant I wasn’t going to turn into some lovestruck idiot or something. I figured I’d ease your mind about that.”
“Suuure,” she said flatly. Guess she must’ve been even more hungover than I thought. “Consider my mind eased. Hey look. I’ve got to go. Can we talk about this later?”
“I have an appointment with Ainsley later.”
“Of course you do,” she sighed. “I guess I’ll just see you tomorrow.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Every Saturday was Open Mic Happy Hour at Caroline’s Comedy Club on Broadway. I loved the Comedy Night part of our training. It usually served as a major turning point in a client’s transformation. Plus, it was always a fun time.
Ainsley and I had a table right near the stage, front-and-center to see the show. Caroline’s was a great place to catch any up-and-comers, and there was always a chance that a more established, famous comedian would decide to pop in to do a set.
Like today.
Ainsley and I had been watching the show, finding ourselves mildly entertained by the budding comedians who commandeered the mic.
In between, we were treated to Bob, the resident MC.
Bob hopped up onstage as the applause from The Amazing Julian died down. “Whooo! Let’s give it up for Amazing Julian! He did a great job, didn’t he?”
Bob told a few jokes before announcing, “Now boys and girls, we interrupt our regularly scheduled programming to bring you a real treat. One of our Caroline’s graduates happened to pop in today, and I think if you cheer loudly enough, we can convince him to come up here and do a set.” All eyes scanned the room, looking to see who he could be talking about. “Ladies and gents, let’s hear it for Jay Mohr!”
No way!
Jay took the stage amidst a rousing round of applause, and within minutes, showed all these wannabes what real comedy looked like.
I snickered at his spot-on Christopher Walken and Norm MacDonald impersonations. Had my first laugh when he talked about his days on Saturday Night Live. But when he told a story about taking a bunch of drugs and driving into the city in his friend’s Firebird, I lost it.
I could barely breathe, holding my sides and trying not to fall off my chair.
Ainsley, however, was wearing a scowl. I couldn’t really ask her about it until after the set, though.
Jay wrapped up his act and hopped down off the stage. As we clapped, I turned to Ainsley and laughed out, “Oh man! That was hysterical! I’m still trying to catch my breath.”
She gave a shrug and sipped her drink.
“You didn’t seem to be as entertained…”
“There’s nothing funny about taking drugs.”
Okay there, Buzzkill.
“Sometimes comedians make up stuff for their shows,” I explained.
“I guess.”
Man. I’d been feeling guilty
about the “fun” Mia and I had last night, but even without the makeout session, we tended to have a great time no matter where we went. Here was Ainsley who couldn’t even muster up a chuckle at a professional comedian. It was a stark contrast.
I soon realized that maybe lack of humor wasn’t the problem.
Bob had resumed with the open mic show, and we were subjected to three snoozer comedians in rapid succession.
The expression on Ainsley’s face throughout was seemingly serene but I could recognize panic when I saw it. The longer the show went on, the more I felt her recoiling at the idea that her number would be pulled next. We’d worked on her routine all week—and the jokes were good—so her fear was more about getting up on that stage.
Maybe “fear” was an understatement.
The poor girl had turned white and she was currently wringing a napkin in her hands.
“You okay?” I asked.
She turned horrified eyes toward me. “I think I need air.”
“Yes. Okay. Yeah, let’s go outside for a minute.”
We excused ourselves as inconspicuously as possible before heading for the door. Once outside, Ainsley took a huge breath and started pacing back and forth on the sidewalk. “I can’t do this.”
“Don’t say can’t.”
“Fine. I won’t to do this.”
My brows drew together as I asked, “Why not? There’s nothing you can’t do if you just—”
“Luke! You’re not listening! I said I’m not doing this and I meant it! Why would you even put this on my schedule?”
“It’s a great exercise.”
“Wrong. It’s a great way for you to parade your trained monkey around on that stage!”
She was totally freaking out and I felt really bad about it. My intention was to help her step out of her comfort zone, not to completely terrify her. “Okay, calm down, Ains. It’s okay. You don’t have to. I’d never force you to do anything you weren’t comfortable with.”
She huffed at that. “As if you could. I make my own decisions. I say what I will and will not do. Got it?”
Her defiance was out of character, but I was proud of her for speaking her mind.
“Yeah. Yes. Sure. Hey, c’mere.” I pulled her toward me and wrapped my arms around her. She just really needed a hug right then, an opinion that was confirmed as I felt her shaking like a leaf in my grasp. Shit. “I’m sorry. You going to be okay?”
She sniffled as she pulled out of my clutches. “Yes. I’m sorry for wimping out.” Her eyes met mine to add, “And for yelling at you.”
Her apology was enough for the both of us to shake off the drama of the past minutes and share a snicker as I put an arm across her shoulders and walked us toward my car.
As disappointed as I was that Ainsley wasn’t going to go through with tonight’s lesson, at least something good came of it. She would never have dug her heels in so adamantly six weeks ago. She may have “failed” at her task, but her willingness to stand up for herself was progress.
I wrote the night off as a success.
WEEK SEVEN: RENOVATION
Clothes shopping
Spa Day
Haircut
Makeup lesson
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Holy Hell, this woman’s fingers are a gift from the gods.
I’d talked Mia into the dual massage, figuring it would be fun. So, we were currently lying side by side on our respective tables as our therapists pounded our backs into a pulp.
Mia was a squealer.
It was pretty much the first sound I’d heard out of her all day. She’d been in a mood all morning, and I wondered what was up.
Rather than hound her about it, I figured it would be better to just leave her to her thoughts. She’d come to me when she was ready to talk. Until then, I couldn’t imagine a more relaxing place to either work out some issues or forget about them altogether.
The Luna Spa was a kickass Zen den in the heart of Hell’s Kitchen. It was a miracle that they were able to offer a peaceful atmosphere, considering Times Square was only a few feet outside their door. But Luna Spa must have had triple-thick insulation in their exterior walls or something. Aside from the background noise of some new age music and trickling water, the whole building was quiet.
There was something kind of crazy—and hot—about being naked in a roomful of women except for a thin towel. I kept trying to catch Mia’s eye to share a laugh about it, but she had her face permanently embedded in the donut hole of the table. I couldn’t stop thinking about the two of us dancing the other night. Things had gotten a little fucked up. Fucked up, but incredibly hot.
Thank Christ I was lying on my stomach.
Fortunately, Mia was acting like it hadn’t even happened. Maybe when you’ve slept with enough people, a simple dry hump on a dance floor didn’t register. I wouldn’t know.
In fact, she was pretty much ignoring me altogether.
When our hour was up, we walked together toward the locker rooms. She was either chilled out from such a relaxing massage or she was giving me the silent treatment. I felt I’d waited long enough to find out, and asked, “What’s up with you today?”
I was expecting an aloof shrug, maybe a benign excuse.
I wasn’t expecting to see tears in her eyes.
“Just don’t do it,” she pleaded. “Don’t let Ainsley be your first.”
Definitely not the conversation I was expecting. “What? Why?”
She sighed and ran a hand over her hair. “Because your first time should be with someone you love.”
It was cool that she was concerned about me, but I couldn’t understand why she was getting so emotional about it. And besides, “Who says I don’t love her?”
“You do. With everything you’ve told me, and especially the things you don’t. You only think you’re in love with her because she looks perfect. I just... I just think you should wait. Really think about it. You’ve waited twenty-eight years. Do this right.” I was caught off guard, and couldn’t understand why Mia would be opposed to me finally getting laid. She seemed to enjoy it, why shouldn’t I? “You said you were waiting for the right girl. What if she’s the wrong one?”
“Mia. It’s... nice and all that you find this so important. Really. I guess I just don’t understand why you’re getting so upset, though. Is this... Do you have regrets about some of your decisions?”
“No. I don’t regret a thing. And stop talking at me like I’ve slept with half the city.”
Her comment lightened the moment for both of us. Once we reached the ladies’ locker room, I threw an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her against my side. “I’m not. And look, there’s no need to freak out. I’m going to be fine.”
My reassurances brought a small smile to her face. “Okay. You’re right. It’s not my place to say.” She leaned into me for just the briefest second before stepping out of my grasp. She started to head toward the door, but stopped before opening it. Clasping her robe closed with a fist at her throat, she turned back toward me. “I just want you to be happy. You know that, right?”
I shot her a wink and grinned on my reply. “I do.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
I couldn’t stop staring at Ainsley as we walked the few blocks over to Barney’s. Today was New Wardrobe Day, and the plan was to pick out a few new staples to match her new look, plus settle on a killer dress to wear out for our celebratory dinner tonight. Based on what she already looked like this afternoon, however, I figured I’d be dead before then.
She always looked great, so the reveal after her makeover yesterday didn’t provide the shock that I normally got from my other clients. It simply enhanced her beauty. Her golden blonde hair was sporting some new platinum highlights, and a heavier hand was used on her makeup. She must have been paying attention during the tutorials, because she managed to recreate the look herself today.
Guess she liked it.
What I liked, however, was her decision to wear
a pair of skinny jeans. She had them paired with a white silk top and a fitted black leather jacket. The look was pretty lethal. I hoped Corinne would nudge Ainsley into picking out more outfits like it.
“Hey Sandy,” I teased. “I’m kinda digging this badass look you’ve got going on today.”
“Sandy?”
“Sorry. Bad Grease joke.” When she looked at me blankly, I explained, “Your outfit. It reminded me of the end of the movie.” Ainsley’s face scrunched in confusion. “When she shows up all made up... wearing a leather jacket...”
“Oh, yeah,” she said as the lightbulb finally clicked on. “I guess I haven’t seen that in a while.”
Yeah, maybe you haven’t seen it in a while but it’s Grease, for fucksake, I thought to myself. Who doesn’t remember that scene? It was one of the major inspirations behind me starting my business!
I shook off my bewilderment by the time we reached the corner, and absently reached my hand out to hers as we crossed the street. I hadn’t even realized I’d done it until I felt her fingers thread through mine, and I was kind of stunned by how receptive she was.
It felt good, walking down the street on a random Wednesday with this gorgeous girl on my arm. I was crazy about her and could hardly wait for next week to tell her how I felt. I started to wonder what the hell I was waiting for in the first place.
Maybe Mia was right. Maybe I just needed to tell Ainsley how I felt. What difference would waiting a few extra days make? What did I have to lose? It’s not like I’d made so much progress doing things my way. If I was just honest, if I just told her, she’d know for sure. I’d know for sure. No more games. No more act.
Hell, I knew she liked me. She told me flat-out weeks ago that she thought I was good-looking, and she hadn’t missed too many opportunities to flirt with me since then. Now it was just a matter of officially getting this ball rolling. I was the one who kept bringing everything to a screeching halt.