Unzipped?

by Karen Kendall

  Shannon put on some music and swayed to it, turning her back to him and shaking her hair, shoulders and rear to the bass beat. She turned and looked at him over her shoulder, winked at him as he sat mesmerized.

  Slowly, still dancing, she peeled off her lime-green sweater, tossed it at him and stretched her arms over her head. She lifted her hair and then let it cascade down her naked back, gyrating for him.

  She unhooked her bra and peeked over her shoulder again to find him unblinking, like a cat peering into a fishbowl with evil intent. She laughed.

  Still in time to the music, she bent at the waist and stretched down, peering at him from between her own legs. The straps of her bra fell down her arms, leaving her chest bare. She straightened and tossed the bra at him, cupping her breasts as she turned to face him.

  Hal’s eyes glazed as she dropped her hands to the snap on her jeans and kept on with her striptease. She turned her back on him again and began to work the denim down over her hips until her thong peeked out.

  A little more undulating and her cheeks were bare. Hal looked as if a heart attack were imminent. Finally she stepped out of the jeans entirely and just danced for him in nothing but the thong, which was small and black.

  “Where’s your pole?” he asked in hoarse tones.

  “I think it’s right there.” She pointed to his tented pants and began to gyrate for all she was worth. She swung it, she spun it, she bumped and she ground. She had a ball, and would have continued if the song hadn’t ended and Hal hadn’t rushed her like an offensive lineman, throwing his clothes off in the process.

  Before she knew it she was under him on the bearskin rug, and his hands were everywhere she liked best. He dispensed with her thong immediately and threw it into a houseplant. Then he made good on his word of kissing her all over.

  He started damn close to the center and radiated outward, trailing his lips from the top of her mons to her belly and the hollow between her breasts. He kissed the swell of those, but not her nipples, while she grew ever impatient. He kissed her collarbone, her neck, her ears, her forehead, her lips.

  He kissed her shoulders, her biceps, her wrists—even under her arms, while she struggled to push him away, laughing. “That’s disgusting,” she complained. “It can’t smell good there.”

  “It does,” he promised. “Smells like you.” He nuzzled her breasts again, and trailed his mouth down over her ribs, hips and thighs. He made a brief foray to her core again and blew teasingly on the curls he found there while she moved restlessly.

  He parted her thighs and kissed the tender skin there, but avoided the more intimate area. He moved down her thighs to her knees and calves, her ankles and feet.

  Only then did he start at the top again and pull her toward him. Sitting cross-legged in front of the fire, he coaxed her onto him so that she sat, thighs spread over his, nut to bolt, just barely touching.

  He bent his head and just touched the tip of his tongue to her nipple, teasing it gently. Shannon caught her breath and leaned back on her hands. He circled the bud slowly with his tongue and then switched to the other one.

  Exquisitely sensitized and barely wet, her nipples now jutted forward aggressively, trying to meet his mouth. When he closed his lips around one and sucked it almost roughly, she cried out and rocked forward, coming into slick contact with his erection. Swirls of pleasure eddied, then faded behind her closed eyelids—until he took the other nipple between his teeth and bit lightly before drawing it into his mouth and kneading both breasts in his hands.

  She rocked forward again, slid against him again, and this time he grabbed her bottom, parted her and drove home. The feeling was indescribable as she rose and fell onto him, clinging to his shoulders and barely hanging on as her thighs began to tremble and the wet fullness between them built into a blinding pleasure. Her nipples rubbed against his broad chest, heightening and echoing every sensation she felt at her core. She felt sunshine spreading within her, softly at first and then blazing through every inch of her until she combusted in Hal’s arms.

  He lay back on the rug, spent, and pulled her on top of him. With Hal warming her front side, and the fire warming her backside, she fell asleep.

  19

  WHEN SHANNON AWOKE, she was still spooned into Hal. Aside from the floor being a little hard, it was heaven. She felt safe and protected with his big arm wrapped around her; snug. His heart beat steadily against her spine. He stirred against her sleepily and buried his nose in her hair.

  She didn’t particularly want to move, which surprised her, given the fact that she normally found being clutched annoying. She usually dodged out from under a male arm or leg if it was draped over her. She wasn’t a teddy bear.

  But Hal didn’t mean the gesture as an act of possession. He meant it as a comfort.

  She lay there with him for another few minutes, but then peered at her watch. Two in the morning. Carefully she lifted his arm enough that she could slide from under it. He made a sleepy noise of protest, mumbled something, but other than that showed no signs of waking up.

  She tucked a blanket around him and crept upstairs to her office in the second bedroom, leaving him naked in front of the fire.

  Still nude herself, she sat in her rolling office chair and turned on her computer. She logged on to the Internet and found the site for the Home for Little Wanderers.

  She stared at the screen for a long moment, her heart rate spiking. And then she clicked on the link that would put her in touch with someone who could help her. She copied down the address and phone number listed. She’d write to them tomorrow and have them check her file for any correspondence.

  Only then would she decide what to do next.

  “Shannon?” Hal’s voice came from downstairs.

  “Coming!” She padded downstairs again. He sat like a big sleepy kid on the rug, legs splayed in front of him. His hair was a disaster and she loved it that way. He blinked at her. “What time is it?”

  “Late,” she said. She was tempted to just take him upstairs to bed with her, but that would only make things harder tomorrow, when they returned to a professional relationship and nothing more.

  He looked a question at her.

  “I was just in my office. I’m going to get in touch with the adoption place to see if either of my biological parents has attempted contact or left a letter for me.”

  He nodded.

  “It’s called the Home for Little Wanderers. Isn’t that quaint?” She half laughed. “And over the years I’ve grown up to be a Big Wanderer.”

  “Aren’t you done with that? You have a business here now.”

  She nodded. “Yeah. But who knows…” She found her jeans and climbed into them, then pulled her sweater on inside out. She twisted her hair into its usual knot. “You want something to drink?”

  “No, thanks. I guess I’d better head home.” He glanced up the stairs, but then shook his head as if reminding himself of something. She wondered what. He, too, found his clothes and pulled them on. He ran a hand through his hopeless hair and grabbed his keys off the console. “Get some sleep, okay?”

  She nodded. She walked him to the door and kissed him, probably for the last time. Then she hid behind it so she wouldn’t give the neighbors a show when he opened it.

  “See you tomorrow?”

  She nodded. “Last dress rehearsal before you go out for field testing, Dr. Suave.”

  “Yeah. That’s me. Dr. Suave.” He brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers and touched his lips to hers again. She didn’t want him to leave. She was sorely tempted, in fact, to pull him upstairs by the belt and pounce on him in the comfort of her bed. She didn’t.

  “Good night, Hal.”

  “Good night.”

  HAL PEERED at the piece of paper Shannon had given him. She’d scrawled Ellen Finnegan’s address on a Post-it note. He was to pick her up at 7:00 p.m. and they’d attend the children’s hospital benefit together. Shannon had to go to dinner with another clien
t, but had sworn to put on her headset and join him electronically at precisely 7:45 p.m.

  The only problem was that Ellen Finnegan’s house number didn’t seem to exist on Ellen Finnegan’s street. Hal drove it one more time, but number 6429 wasn’t there. The numbers stopped with 5400, where there was a dead end. Unless Ellen lived in the ornamental fish pond on that property, or on the community jungle gym, she didn’t reside here.

  Hal pulled up under a streetlight to examine the Post-it again, and fiddled with the alien earpiece blocking his hearing. The wire inside his shirt felt odd, too, and he had a feeling that the tape holding it in place was going to rip a bald spot in his chest hair when he took it off.

  Under the light, he saw to his dismay that he was on Brickton Street in Avon, whereas he was supposed to be on Brickton Avenue in Weathersfield. And he didn’t have Ellen’s telephone number with him.

  Muttering to himself, he yanked a residential map out of his door pocket and dug for his cell phone. A call to Information yielded none, naturally: Ms. Finnegan was unlisted.

  Hal found Brickton Avenue in Wethersfield and calculated that it would take him a good forty minutes in traffic to get there. Wonderful. He found Shannon’s number on his call list and punched Send. But all he got was her voice mail. By the time he got to her house, Ellen was going to think he was a prize jerk.

  He drove and drove, finally squealing up outside a modest white house with black shutters and a cheerful, flowered Welcome mat. Ellen’s face, when she opened the door, was not as hospitable as her rug. A good-looking redhead in a sparkly cocktail dress, she looked pointedly at her watch.

  “Hi,” said Hal sheepishly. “I’m Hal. I went to the wrong Brickton in the, um, wrong town.”

  She looked unimpressed. “Isn’t this a sit-down dinner?” she asked.

  “Uh, yes.”

  “Then we’d better get moving.”

  He nodded. Think, Hal. Charm. Compliments. Smiles. Posture. “You look nice,” he said, standing tall and forcing his shoulders back as they walked to the Explorer. Actually he thought her nose was too long and her dress was too short.

  “Thank you.” She glanced up at him. “Have you hurt your back? Is it painful to move?”

  So much for his posture. Hal downshifted his military strut to his customary amble. “No, no. Just stretching.” He opened the passenger-side door for her and she looked in dismay at the height from the street to the running board. Her dress didn’t look stretchy, and it was covered with sequins.

  “Would you like some, er, help?” Hal asked. “Getting in?”

  “Yes, please.”

  He evaluated the situation, not knowing quite what to do. Finally he put one arm around her shoulders and another under her derriere.

  “What are you—?”

  He lifted her bodily toward the seat.

  “Please be careful of the sequins—ow!”

  He’d clonked her forehead into the door frame. “Oh, God, I’m sorry! Are you okay?” Hal put her on the seat and tried to get his hands out from under her. But the cuff links that Shannon had insisted he wear snagged on her dress, and due to his lurch when she cried out, his hand was now squarely on her ass.

  When he tugged, fondling was unavoidable.

  “Get your hands off me!”

  It was now imperative that he free himself so that she didn’t puncture his gut with her elbow or mace him—or both. Hal pulled back hard and got disentangled from her. Unfortunately so did quite a few sequins and the thread which had held them in place.

  Rubbing her head, Ellen saw them and shrieked. “What have you done to my dress?!”

  Hal awkwardly volunteered to sew them back on, but was told in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t coming anywhere near her with a needle.

  “I think this evening is cursed already,” she said. “Why don’t I just go back inside?”

  “Look, Ellen, I’m sorry—honestly I didn’t mean to touch you inappropriately. My cuff links got caught on your dress. I’m not quite Mr. Smooth, but I can promise you I’m not normally this much of a disaster. Just give me another chance, okay?”

  He had to keep her appeased and in the car: she was his midterm exam. “And only a couple of sequins came off. I really don’t think it’ll be noticeable at the dinner. Low lighting and all that.” He flashed her an earnest smile.

  She seemed to melt under it and calmed down. “Fine.”

  He went around to the driver’s side, got in and started the ignition. In a few minutes he had them at the benefit and turned over the Explorer to a valet parking attendant.

  Another red-jacketed attendant helped Ellen down without incident, to Hal’s relief. He took her elbow as Shannon had taught him, and escorted her inside the hotel. He followed a horde of elegantly dressed people to a grand ballroom filled with round tables and chairs.

  Though they were a half hour late, Hal found them seating at a table immediately and pulled out Ellen’s chair for her. He pushed it in once she’d sat down—a little too far in, but then he corrected that, afraid he’d cracked her ribs.

  He sat down himself and basked in the glow of her extremely fixed smile. He was in dire need of a drink to calm his nerves. “Can I get you something from the cash bar?” he asked Ellen.

  It mildly enraged him that there was a cash bar at an event that had cost him two hundred and fifty dollars a head, but he couldn’t do a thing about it now.

  “Yes, please,” she said. “A glass of chardonnay.”

  “No problem,” he told her. And I’m going to find some Jack Daniel’s. He was in the process of getting up when an electronic screech split his eardrum. He jumped, his knee hitting the table. Everything jiggled and clanked, but no other damage occurred. Ellen shot him a scathing glance, but said nothing.

  Hal backed away from the table fast. Shannon’s voice said into his ear, “Hal, where the hell are you?”

  “I’m at a table at the damn benefit. Where are you?”

  “Hal, I’m standing next to your place card at your table. You are not here.”

  He began to get a sinking feeling. Place card? He looked around at the tables in the ballroom and saw no reserved seating whatsoever. Then, to his horror, he saw a bride.

  “Oh, no. I think we’re at someone’s wedding reception. We just followed some people in…” He shot a look at Ellen, who’d spied the bride, too. “Listen,” he hissed. “This whole date has been a disaster so far! I need your help. I’m not sure it’s even salvageable at this point, though.”

  She sighed. “Hal, start by getting yourselves into the right place. You should be on the second floor in the Chadwick Ballroom. Do you think you can get here or should I send an armed guard with a GPS to escort you?”

  SHANNON HAD GROWN TIRED of swinging her boobs over the punch bowl by the time Hal and a sour-looking Ellen made it into the correct ballroom.

  “Go to the right,” she said into his ear. “Pass three tables and the next one is yours. Don’t forget to pull out Ellen’s chair.”

  “Been there, done that, cracked her ribs,” was Hal’s disconcerting reply.

  Ellen must have said, “Excuse me?” or words to that effect, because Hal’s next words were, “Oh, nothing. Here we are. Let me—no? I’d be happy to—okay. Yes, ma’am, a chardonnay coming right up.”

  “Hal? Is her dress ripped in the back?” Shannon asked.

  “Just a small mishap with the cuff links,” he said.

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “Wish I were. Now, can you help me salvage this date, or should I just throw cab fare on her dinner plate and run?”

  Shannon was torn between the desire to laugh, annoyance that he was screwing up after all her training and a sense of relief that he and Ellen weren’t getting along. She’d actually had nightmares about him in bed with Jane’s friend.

  “Get her that wine, go back to the table and make her feel like the most fascinating woman in the world. Ask her questions, Hal, about her job and her dreams. Compli
ment her. Above all, listen to her.”

  “Okay.”

  He made his way back to the table with their drinks and sat down. Shannon said into his ear, “Congratulations. No white socks.” He grinned, and Ellen chose that moment to look up at him. She blinked and stared and blinked again, apparently noticing how good-looking he was for the first time all evening.

  “Raise your glass to her,” said Shannon. “Toast her.”

  “So, Ellen. Cheers.” He held up his drink. She looked at him uncertainly, but then raised her own.

  “To a miserable evening so far, but here’s to it getting much better,” Shannon said. “And grin that same grin when you say it.”

  Hal followed her instructions.

  Ellen looked startled at first, but then actually laughed.

  Excellent. Shannon fed him his next lines and reflected that Jane’s friend was pretty, but her nose was too long and her dress was too short. She would have done better to choose something that covered her thighs and showcased her delicate, sexy calves.

  She’d mentally cut, highlighted and restyled the woman’s hair when she realized that Hal had come to a conversational standstill. “That sounds fascinating,” she prompted.

  “You have to inventory the entire store, piece by piece?” Hal asked.

  Oops.

  “That’s brutal. How often? Twice a year? You poor thing.”

  “Good,” Shannon told him. “Empathize with her.”

  “And you do this manually? You know, I’m sure I could devise an automated system for your store and spare you that kind of drudgery. We’d have to incorporate the tags on every item into a computer program.”

  “Go, Hal!” Shannon exclaimed.

  “You already do that? Yes, of course. But what I have in mind is something entirely different. You see…”

  And her boy was off and running. She gave him five minutes. “Okay, Hal, enough with the techie talk. Tell her you’ll contact her about a program next week, but for this evening, you two should have fun. Ask her if her dress came from her store and tell her how exquisite it is. Ask how she got into retail, etcetera.”