by Nic Tatano
“Kirk’s ship was the Enterprise. The Falcon was Han Solo’s from Star Wars. I thought everyone knew that.”
That was an easy one. Let’s try something harder. “Duh, I mixed them up. So, what’s your favorite Trek movie?”
“A tie between Wrath of Khan and The Voyage Home. Can’t beat those even-numbered movies. Though I really liked the re-boot from a few years ago.”
“What’s the name of Ripley’s cat in the first Alien movie?”
Vincent looked at me quizzically. “The cat’s name is Jones. Why?”
“Who played Starbuck in the original Battlestar Galactica?”
“Dirk Benedict. What, are you a judge in the trivia contest or something?”
I shook my head. “Just wanted to see if you were really a sci-fi fan.”
“Well, I am. And obviously you are as well.” He looked up at the ceiling a moment, then back at me. “What was the name of the actor in Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea who was also the lead in the original movie version of The Fly?”“
“David Hedison. What did the robot always say to warn the kid in Lost in Space?”
“Danger, Will Robinson.” He flashed a knowing smile. “Seriously? That the best you got?” He made a come closer motion with his hands. “C’mon, girl, let’s rock.”
Frank returned from shooting video. “You wanna interview this guy?”
I put up my hand, still looking at Vincent. I raised one eyebrow. “In the movie Stargate, James Spader eats a candy bar. What kind—”
“Clark Bar. In the original Day the Earth Stood Still, what does Michael Rennie use for money?”
“Diamonds. What kind of pet does Sarah Connor have in the original Terminator?”
“Iguana.”
Frank shouldered his camera. “Damn, I need to be shooting this for the Christmas party.”
We went back and forth like this for five minutes, eventually attracting a crowd. I became oblivious to the fact that Frank was rolling tape on the whole thing. Through it all Vincent not only answered every obscure question I could throw at him, but he hit me with some serious sci-fi tidbits only a fanatic would know.
Finally Frank interrupted. “Guys, I’m out of tape. How ‘bout you two call this a draw?”
We both relaxed as the crowd applauded, then began to disperse.
“You two know each other?” asked Frank.
“Yeah. Sort of,” said Vincent, who then stuck out his hand. “Vincent Martino.”
Frank raised both eyebrows and smiled as he shook his hand. “Ah, you must be the Vincent I’ve heard so much about.”
Vincent looked at me and gave me a huge smile. Now I was the one turning beet red.
***
Thankfully our news car was parked in the garage underneath the convention hall so no viewer would be able to see my impending explosion. I’d been holding it in through gritted teeth, forced a smile as we made our way through the crowd while wishing I had an alien mask.
In television news, no one can hear you scream.
The only noise you heard in the musty garage were the echoes of my fast heel clicks on the pavement. I got to the news car way ahead of Frank, turned, folded my arms, stuck out one leg in front of the other like a pissed off parent, and glared at him.
He noticed. “What?”
I waited for him to unlock the trunk and place the camera inside before I moved toward him and shoved a finger in his chest. “You embarrassed the hell out of me! Geez, I cannot believe you did that!”
He started to back up, as he obviously noted the fire in my eyes. “Did what?”
I wrinkled my nose and lowered my voice in an attempt to imitate him. “Ah, you must be the Vincent I’ve heard so much about.”
“That embarrassed you? Seriously?” He kept backing up toward the front of the car. I kept following him.
“You told him I was talking about him.”
“Yeah, so what. You were talking about him.”
“Not like that!” Frank continued walking backwards around the front of the car and I kept following him.
“Like what?”
“Like … like … like I’m talking about him as if I like him! He doesn’t need to think I like him!”
“Why, because you do?”
“Augh!” I put up two hands and shoved him backwards. Now he was back at the trunk, beginning his second lap around the car with me in steamed pursuit. “Get this straight! I! Don’t! Like! Him!”
“Coulda fooled me.”
“What makes you say that?”
“You two had this … I don’t know, this thing going. Like couples do. You were competing but you were having fun. It was great to watch. You obviously have a lot in common if you both know the name of the cat in Alien. Geez, who the hell remembers that stuff?”
I started waving my arms like a lunatic. “It’s a FAMOUS CAT because RIPLEY risked her life TO SAVE IT! It was IMPORTANT to the PLOT!”
Finally Frank stopped walking backwards at the front of the car and put out one hand to stop me, then took me by the shoulders. “Hey, you need to settle down.” He looked right into my eyes. “This isn’t about trivia or famous cats, is it?”
I shook my head and bit my lower lip as my eyes grew moist. I tried to exhale my tension. “No. I’m sorry,” I said, as my voice cracked with emotion. “I don’t need to yell at you, Frank. But like I said he pushes my buttons like no one ever has.”
“Because he answered every question you threw at him and you got stumped by a couple of his?”
I threw out my lower lip in a pout. “Yeah. Sonofabitch beat me. It pisses me off.”
“Geez, I’d hate to see you get in an argument over something serious.” I looked down at the ground. “C’mere, Cupcake.” Frank moved closer and gave me a strong hug, being the big brother he had always been for me at the station. I leaned my head on his shoulder as he patted me on the back. He held the hug a moment, then pulled back, still holding me by the shoulders. I was still looking down. “Hey, look at me.” I wiped my eyes as I looked up. “It’s okay to like more than one guy, kiddo. Not after you get married of course, but now it’s fine. And he sure likes you, I can tell that.”
“How?”
“Because he looks at you the same way I look at my wife.”
***
We had finished editing what turned out to be a hilarious feature story and I was about to leave the dimly lit editing booth when Frank said, “Hold on a minute.”
I stopped and turned around. “What? I forget something?”
“I want you to watch this.” He put another tape in the playback deck, then rolled it.
It was the scene of Vincent and me having the trivia showdown. “Do I have to?”
“You don’t even need the audio.” He hit the mute button. “Pay attention to the way you’re looking at each other.”
What I assumed would look like a trivia war was completely different. Frank had been the fly on the wall, capturing, as he always did, what I could not see.
Vincent and I both smiling, almost laughing, as we fired question after question at each other. He getting really excited when he stumped me; my eyes growing wide and filling with delight as he struggled to find an answer.
His eyes intently focused on mine, and mine on his. So focused the crowd around us did not exist.
The tape ran out. Frank hit the eject button, got up, handed me the tape and patted me on the shoulder as he left the edit booth. “Yeah, Cupcake. You really hate the guy.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
So now it was August and I was on date number eleven with Scott. It would have been a lot more but he travels so much I’ve had to take what I could get. I missed him when he was gone and really enjoyed spending time with him. Our makeout sessions were terrific.
Yet something was missing.
Yep, you guessed it. He still hadn’t ventured into my bedroom. And the sexual camel in me wanted her hump.
Ariel was beginning to think this was odd.
<
br /> Serena already knew this was odd.
And I don’t really need to tell you what Roxanne thought, do I? To quote her, “Ten dates and you don’t even have to go to confession? Fuhgeddaboudim!” (That’s forget about him instead of forget about it for those of you who are New York accent-challenged.)
After our latest dinner together it was decided that I would have to be pro-active and draw the guy a road map. And if he still didn’t take the hint, I’ve been encouraged to grab him by the hand, drag him into my bed and take him.
Now, while I’ve always considered myself a strong woman, especially considering my line of work, I’d never reversed roles when it comes to men. No date for the Sadie Hawkins dance, never asked a man for a phone number or even to lunch. So initiating sex has me, well, to be honest, a little apprehensive. I didn’t exactly have a pair of thigh-high dominatrix boots in my closet. (When I mentioned that to the girls, Roxanne said that if I did possess such a pair, they’d be flats.)
Being subtle was not my forte, as you already know. So Serena said when the time was right I should say nothing and lead him to my bedroom.
If he still didn’t take the hint, well, I’m baffled.
So we were at my place after a wonderful dinner in Little Italy and a hansom cab ride through Central Park. That’s an old-fashioned horse and buggy. Talk about romantic, and under a full moon, no less, on a beautiful summer night. So I figured the mood was perfect.
My old-fashioned regulator clock on the wall had just struck midnight and I was in my usual position, straddling his lap while the only light in my apartment was provided by a ton of candles. I’d been doing everything I’d seen a stripper do in the movies and still there’d been no indication he wanted more. Oh, I knew he was enjoying himself, breathing heavily with his hands all over me. I tried unbuttoning his shirt, loosening his belt, whispering dirty in his ear, expecting him to simply lift me up and carry me away, but we were still stuck in neutral.
Finally, rather than take Serena’s advice, I stopped mid-grind, sat up straight and looked at him.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
“Uh … yeah. Actually, I’m seriously beginning to wonder if there’s something wrong with me.”
“Are you kidding? You’re the best girl I’ve ever dated. You’re smart, beautiful, a great kisser, we have a lot in common—”
I put up one hand. “Let’s back up a bit to that great kisser part. Since you seem to be really enjoying our makeout sessions and my arguably amateur attempt at a lap dance, I will connect the dots and assume you would really enjoy making love to me.”
His face went blank, the color drained. He looked away and said nothing.
I grabbed his face and turned it back so he was looking at me. “Don’t you want me, Scott?”
He nodded with a sheepish look on his face. “More than you can possibly know.”
“Because I sure as hell want you.” I got off his lap, stood up, took his hand and pulled. He didn’t budge. “Well, c’mon. Do I have to send you an engraved invitation?”
He patted the couch cushion next to him with his other hand as his eyes suddenly filled with sadness. “Let’s talk a minute.”
Now I was totally confused as I sat down and he took both my hands. The man I’ve known with all the confidence in the world looked like a frightened teenager. “Scott, what’s wrong?”
“Belinda, there’s uh … something you need to know about me.”
Oh, shit. Every possible crazy explanation was flying through my head. He’s impotent. He used to be a woman. He’s got herpes or some weird STD. His Johnson is microscopic.
And then he hit me with something I never considered.
“I’m, uh, very religious and, well, there’s really no other way to say this. I believe in waiting for marriage.”
Annnnndddd … cue the cold shower.
To say my jaw dropped would be an understatement. And after he left, all I could think of was my original want list on that whiteboard. I should have clarified what I meant by “a decent guy.”
Sonofabitch, I really am dating the Pope.
***
I could’ve predicted the words that would come out of Roxanne’s mouth after I delivered the news. “You’re friggin’ kidding me! He’s a friggin’ virgin?”
Serena’s mouth hung open from shock. Ariel, who had been standing up, plopped down on the couch like she was gonna pass out. “Oh dear,” she said, pressing her forehead with the back of her hand like a movie star on a fainting couch.
“Oh dear? More like oh shit,” said Roxanne. “How old is this guy?”
“Thirty-three.”
“Looks like your bullshit detector needs to be recalibrated for virgins,” said Serena, who then turned to me. “So what happened after he told you this?” She playfully slapped her cheek. “Sorry, your honor, I withdraw the question. Obviously nothing happened.”
“Well, we talked about it a while, he said he hoped I wouldn’t break up with him because things were going so well.”
Ariel rubbed her temples as she stretched out flat on the couch. “And you said … ”
“What could I say?” I said. “The guy poured his heart out to me. I told him it was okay—”
“Oh, shit,” said Roxanne.
“What?” I asked.
Roxanne rolled her eyes. “Seriously, are you telling me you’re willing to wait for this guy? What’s your current definition of foreplay, thirty minutes of begging? You should run so fast you leave skid marks.”
Serena got up, sat next to me and took my hands. “Wing Girl, you need to cut your losses. I know you like him, but in this day and age, and at his age, that’s ridiculous.”
I bit my lower lip. “But we’re so compatible. He’s such a gentleman, we have so much in common, we have fun together—”
“You aint havin’ the right kind of fun,” said Roxanne.
“And you have no idea what he’s like in bed,” said Ariel. “That’s one big chance to take if you’re serious about this guy.”
“He’s a helluva kisser. I’m sure he’ll be fine in the bedroom.”
“You can’t know that,” said Serena. “That’s like saying a car that idles well will be great on the highway before you even test drive the thing. He might not even be able to shift out of park.”
“So what do I do?”
“I’d roofie the guy,” said Roxanne.
I glared at her. “C’mon, Rox. Be serious.”
“Hey,” she said, “I am being serious. He won’t remember a thing and you’ll find out if he’s any good. He’ll still think he’s a virgin. Victimless crime. Problem solved.”
“I can see the headline in The Post,” I said. “Brass Cupcake Date Rapes Men. I need some real help here. But I will not break up with him, so forget your veto power. Not yet, at least.”
“Well, then,” said Ariel, “If you’re dead set against cutting him loose, I have an idea that will force him to sleep with you.”
***
If you’d asked me which of my friends was the most devious, I would have answered Roxanne in a heartbeat.
Little did I know that a manipulative Scarlett O’Hara wannabe resided in the head of Ariel Baymont.
She pulled every trick out of the single woman playbook and set what she thought will be a foolproof sex trap.
There was no Plan B. I honestly didn’t know what I’d do if this over-the-top seduction doesn’t work. Because it absolutely had to work.
Ariel was also taking a hands-on approach to this, as she would play a vital part to blow up Scott’s morality play. Serena said it should work. Roxanne said if it didn’t, the guy’s a eunuch.
I had rented a convertible for a seemingly innocent trip to a beach club in Connecticut. I’d told Scott to bring a few changes of clothes, since we might go hiking, out to dinner, whatever. In reality the changes of clothes were for the next day. He offered to use his car service, but I told him I liked driving, I missed it, and wanted to dri
ve along the shore with the top down.
So we’d been cruising along, wind in our hair, enjoying the sunshine and salt air as we arrived at Ariel’s beach club in Eastern Connecticut around ten in the morning. I pulled up under the massive white canopy and a young, hunky valet immediately opened my door for me, said, “Welcome to the Baymont Club,” and took my keys. (Yeah, Ariel’s mom owns this too. I think she might actually own the entire State of Connecticut, but I’m not sure.)
Ariel was waiting at the top steps to the main pavilion and bounded down the stairs as we arrived. “Hey, you made it! Glad you could come.” She gave me a hug, then moved around to greet my date. “And Scott, so nice to see you again.”
“Nice of you to invite us.”
“Well, grab your bags and I’ll show you where you can change. The sun and surf are waiting for you.”
Scott grabbed both our carry-ons from the back seat, hauled them up the steps, extended the handle on mine and placed it in front of me.
Ariel pointed to the right. “Scott, the men’s locker room is right there. We’ll meet you on the beach in the red cabana.”
Scott headed to the changing room while Ariel led me into the women’s locker room. “Does he have any clue?” she asked.
“He thinks we’re just spending the day and heading back tonight.”
“Great. You didn’t forget the bikini and shoes?”
“Of course not.”
“Good. Take your time changing. We want him to already be there when you make your entrance.”
I know this sounds hard to believe, but it was my first time wearing a bikini even though I’ve always been slender, so I was a little self-conscious. But Roxanne helped me pick it out and said that no man would be able to ignore me in a bathing suit that leaves little to the imagination. The four-inch cork wedges added a beauty-pageant-swimsuit-competition-bimbo effect to the outfit. And Roxanne said no red-blooded man can resist a bimbo, virginity be damned.
I emerged from the dressing cubicle and Ariel was already waiting for me, striking in her own modest two-piece. “Wow.”
I looked at myself in the mirror, a five-nine calendar girl in a black string halter bikini. “Damn, I feel naked.”