by Sylvie Kaye
"Patience.” He brushed his lips over hers, fighting hard not to give in to their lush texture. Sliding his mouth down her velvety throat, he felt the thrum of her satiny skin as she purred her pleasure. He stopped at the base of her throat and planted a moist kiss to the spot.
"The throat chakra. Communication."
"That's a sweet spot of mine,” she said on a sigh. “A kiss there excites me faster than I can blink."
To escalate the foreplay, he kissed her there again, taking her skin between his teeth, tasting her sweet flesh.
"My favorite chakra, so far,” she whispered, grasping his hair so he couldn't move away.
He responded by kissing her throat yet again as she arched her neck for even more. Eventually, he pulled away and began opening the buttons on her blouse. Her skin flushed pink and dewy and her nipples peaked with anticipation.
To hurry him along, she tugged the shirttails from the waistband of her linen trousers. But he was familiar with her tactics and didn't rush. His large fingers were agile as he slid her blouse from her shoulders and undid her white, lace-edged bra.
He touched her heated skin with his mouth, beginning where he'd left off, at her throat. He ran his tongue along her collarbone before he flicked it over the slope of her breasts. When he lowered his head and kissed her between her breasts, she shuddered.
Without straying toward her nipples, he lifted his head and said, “The heart chakra, my favorite."
But not hers, he knew from their discussion in the restaurant. Emotions of the heart were energies she'd rather not open herself up to. But that could change.
"Maybe you should kiss your favorite spot again,” she murmured, arching her spine, her nipples engorged.
He grazed her heart a second time, and she shivered. Taking her in his arms, he laid her against the pillow while he ran his mouth over her ribs with feathering kisses. Down the right side, torturously slow. Up the left side, one rib at a time. She held her breath each time he chanced near her breasts, anticipating the touch of a hot, wet caress.
His kisses remained just below her breasts. He settled his mouth above her belly button, his breath hot and moist when he caressed the spot. “The solar plexus chakra where emotions are stored. Anger. Fear. Trust."
She froze for a moment, her resistance apparent.
"Doubt transformed is trust,” he said. Through trust they could form a loving relationship.
In response, she let her limbs go limp, but lay still as if waiting for him to move on to a less emotional chakra. When he did, he touched her with his hands, gripping her waist, savoring her nakedness, and with a grating sound, opening the zipper to her slacks.
She sighed. “Finally.” She wriggled her hips so he could slip her pants and her white undies with lacy edges that matched her bra down over her legs. On a crescendo of musical chimes, he tossed them to the floor. The CD went dead and the only music became their combined breathing.
Shadowing over her, he tickled her navel with his tongue before he kissed her below her belly button. “The sacral chakra,” he murmured. “Sexual energy."
"Yes,” she hissed and opened her thighs and grasped his shoulders, which flexed and tensed beneath her touch.
He reined himself in and ran his tongue across her pelvis.
"How many more chakras are there?” Her husky voice was thick with desire. “I can't seem to remember, when I'm usually very adept with numbers."
"The root chakra. The last one.” His need raged within him. Dragging his mouth downward, he touched his tongue to her most intimate spot.
"Ohhh.” She squirmed in delight as he moved his tongue over her again and again. She opened her thighs wider, exposing herself to his machinations. Her muscles contracted. He grasped her hips tighter.
"Zack,” she warned, grabbing at his head, his hair, his ears.
He lifted his face and said softly, “It's okay, Boo Baby."
She let go of him, and then she let go. Her release was incredible. He felt her every nerve, muscle, fiber convulse when she did. Her skin tingled beneath his hands.
"Zack,” she moaned.
He stretched out along side of her. “Both of our favorite chakras, I take it."
"Oh, yes.” She rolled atop him and kissed him. He followed her gaze to the glow of the clock radio. It was eleven. “I can't leave my aunts alone for too much longer.” She pecked small kisses to his jaw. “Who knows what problems might happen in a darkened house, and no one awake in the downstairs apartment to help? During the day, Mrs. Muller keeps an ear out for them, but she takes her hearing aid out at bedtime."
Jilly didn't jump up and grab for her clothes; instead she reached for him. He became rock-hard and hot again as she stroked him. With a groan, he rolled on top of her. He kissed her thoroughly this time, spending time to caress her delicate neck, suckle her swollen breasts, and lave her beaded nipples.
"Zack,” she whispered his name again, more urgency in her voice now.
"I know,” he mumbled. “Time to go home.” He moved to get up and she pulled him back down.
"I have a few more minutes.” Her tone was low and throaty. “My years of frustration aren't quite satisfied."
"I hate to rush things.” He kissed her nose, missing her mouth by a mile.
"How can you not want to?” Her eyes rounded. “Your self control is astonishing."
"I wanted us to bond so our coming together will be more of a mind, body, and heart experience. It takes time to build up to."
"Can't we build another time?” She kissed his neck and the back of his ear. He shivered. She'd found his weak spot. She continued kissing the spot until the rest of him weakened.
"You're right. Carpenters can build any time,” he conceded.
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Chapter Eighteen
"Get your butt in here, girlfriend.” No sooner had Ken flung the apartment door open the next day than he tugged Jilly inside. He pulled Eric through the doorway next. “Did you tell her?"
Arm in arm, Ken danced Eric into the living room before flopping his small frame onto the white leather sofa and leaving Eric standing alone.
Eric loosened his tie. “You warned me not to say a word.” He called over to Jilly, who kicked off her sandals and stashed her handbag on a chrome peg. “He threatened me with poison, the slow paralyzing in my food kind.” Eric sprawled onto a leather chair across from Ken.
Jilly crossed the room and sat down opposite both of them so she could glare at whichever one needed it. She started with Ken. He seemed most anxious to be the one to tell the tale. “Tell me what?” she asked.
"Not a word until I hear the lusty details of your dates with the brawny carpenter this past week.” Ken rested his determined jaw on his hand and swung his foot toward the floor. It didn't quite reach. “That was our deal."
"Your deal. I didn't get to negotiate."
Eric laughed. “That's our Ken doll. He's not one to dicker with."
Ken grinned, and Jilly snorted at his gleeful, greedy li'l smile.
"If she starts with the snorkeling noises the good stuff will get swallowed up forever,” Eric warned.
She covered her mouth with her hand. But once Ken started with the probing questions, she got herself under control quick.
Jilly detoured around certain acts and anatomy to tell the more relatable details of her dates with Zack. Ken filled in her blanks with luster or lust as he saw fit.
Eric chuckled, as he saw fit.
"Then I was chakra-ed out.” Jilly slumped back onto the leather chair exhausted from reliving the most memorable dates of her thirty-two years. “Now, tell me what?"
"Not yet, Ms. Pinky."
"You squealed.” She tossed Eric the stare she reserved for naughty tattletales. He didn't have the grace to cower.
"I had to, or else eat, sleep, and live alone. Ken doll was having a GI Joe moment and the lease is in his name."
"We must do something about her aunts’ pink fetish.” K
en eyed Jilly. “Your aunts think I'm absolutely adorable. Maybe I can get them to swoon over a few of my redecorating tips.” He swung his foot again. “If not, we can recruit Eric's sweet Aunt Hannah to help talk them into redoing the bedroom."
"Oh, so you think you've got Hannah Sweets wrapped up in a bow after just a few visits, do you?” Eric asked.
"At least it's not a pink bow."
Jilly growled her frustration. “Forget that for now. Tell me what?"
Ken grinned like the imp that he was. “The hunk called Eric on his cell.” He paused, prolonging her agony before saying, “You tell her, Eric. You took the call."
"Somebody tell me. The suspense is making me itch. I think I'm getting hives.” She looked at Eric and scratched at her neck. “Is he backing out on the secret dating? It can't be aunt overload. He hasn't seen them in a week. It must be me."
Despite her best intentions, she'd talked him into hard and fast sex yet again, knowing how he'd wanted slow and easy. He'd probably given up on her.
"It's not you. He isn't wild about the sneaking around stuff.” Eric's smile dropped. “He's even less wild about this go-between stuff."
Jilly worked her fingernails over her forearm. Going back to her drab, Zack-less life so soon would take a liberal dose of calamine lotion it seemed. While scratching, she tried to remember if a left or right itch brought bad news.
"I knew it would end, but so soon? I still have ten days until classes start up. After that I might've been able to squeeze him in on occasion until he left New Orleans."
"You make it sound so romantic.” Ken shook his head. “How could the fella resist?"
"He didn't resist,” Eric said. “He wants to take Jilly away for a weekend of dining and dancing on the bayou."
"Woo-hoo. A private swampfest.” Ken's voice pitched with his excitement.
She grinned, and then frowned. “I can't leave my aunts for an entire weekend. Suppose something happens to one of them. An accident, an illness."
"Zack said he'd settle for a swampy Saturday if you couldn't swing the weekend,” Eric said.
"Saturday works.” She looked at Ken. “I wonder what a girl wears to the swamp."
"Looks like we have shopping to do.” Ken hopped up from the sofa and grabbed her hand. “If we hurry we can kill an hour at the mall before it closes. Then we'll visit my friend whose dress shop is open after hours."
Jilly ran for her shoes and bag. Eric stood up and jangled his car keys.
In no time, she was fingering the soft, silky lingerie at the Victoria Secrets store at the local mall. She'd never shopped at VS before, but then she'd never had a reason before.
"I have friends in low places who carry more risque lingerie,” Ken whispered to Eric but loud enough for Jilly to hear. “But I figure our Jilly isn't ready for the bad-to-the-bone stuff yet,” he teased.
She made a few purchases, and they headed for the trendy shopping area on Magazine Street. Jilly wasn't sure what an after-hours dress shop carried, but knowing Ken the trip was going to be an experience.
"Dahling,” Ken's friend, Fredricka, who was a cross between a Fred and an Ericka greeted them when they entered the store.
Within moments of introductions, Jilly discovered everyone was Fredricka's dahling.
"She needs a dress.” Ken pointed to Jilly.
"This way, dahlings.” Fredricka guided them toward a purple-lit area. “I have exactly what you need right here in Goth.” She held up a deep purple, velvet, Renaissance dress with bell sleeves and brocade trim.
Jilly's shook her head back and forth in small, jerky no's.
Ken agreed, “She needs something more—"
"I understand, perfectly. Too tame."
Fredricka rushed them over to a red light section. Leather and latex. Eric perked up. He stopped leaning against clothing racks and took his hands out of his pockets.
"I like the black one,” he said.
They were all black, some just shinier than others.
"I'm allergic to rubber.” Despite Jilly's squeaky excuse, Fredricka insisted on flipping through the hangers and picking out a black leather mermaid dress that laced completely up the back. Jilly's mouth wouldn't open, not even to protest.
"I know what you're thinking,” Fredricka said, “the laces are too much to deal with. But there's a hidden zipper."
Fredricka didn't have a clue what Jilly was thinking. Where would a person wear a mermaid dress, much less a rubber one? An underwater dungeon? Somewhere between a rock and a hard place?
"I like it,” Eric said. “Let's take it."
"Absolutely not.” Ken spoke up again. Jilly planned on kissing him later.
Jilly found her voice. “I was thinking of something more romantic."
"Something vintage,” Ken told Fredricka.
Fredricka nodded knowingly. “Over in the pink light district."
Jilly all but ran toward the flashing pink lights.
"Nineteen twenties.” Fredricka pointed to a wall full of pegs adorned with feather boas, fringed shawls, and dresses on satin padded hangers.
"I feel as if I've worn the gold-beaded flapper dress in a past life.” Jilly pointed, feeling drawn to the flashy number.
"But,” Ken said, “in this life it's too much like a Mardi Gras costume."
"I liked the other one.” Longingly, Eric looked back at the red-lighted area.
"In another life for you too, Eric. You can buy it for your girlfriend when you come back straight or wear it if you come back as a queen.” Ken laughed.
"Trust me,” Eric insisted. “That dress would push the carpenter over the edge of his straight rule."
They all groaned, even Fredricka who didn't know Zack.
"Let's look at the thirties and forties.” Fredricka hustled them along.
Jilly and Ken shook their heads at moire, taffeta, silk charmeuse, peplums and super-big shoulder pads.
"Let's try the basic black section,” Fredricka suggested.
Jilly went along with the others, but a steamy swamp with Zack, and all day to linger, was far from a basic black occasion, to her way of thinking.
"The nineteen fifties sheath with black cording and the sixties lace A-line are stunning, but not quite right,” Ken said.
"Aren't we done yet?” Eric whined.
"Don't rush Jilly. She'll think we don't care about her love life. And we do.” Ken pinched Eric's tush to nudge him over to the next section.
He yelped and followed after Fredricka.
"Over here, in our clothes-to-the-edge boutique, are new dresses with vintage style."
"There it is.” Jilly stuttered to a stop.
Ken gushed, “Yes."
Eric asked, “Where?"
"The blue georgette Gatsby, of course. The color matches her eyes.” Even Fredricka saw it and it wasn't black or purple. When Fredricka wriggled up onto a stepstool and brought it down from the wall Eric saw it, too, at last.
"Not as deadly as the leather one,” Eric said, “but at least the carpenter will live to tell about it.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “I'm hungry. Let's buy it."
"She has to try it on first.” Both Ken and Fredricka reprimanded in unison.
"All right.” Eric plopped onto a red, plastic-molded chair, shaped like a huge tongue, which was situated next to the fitting rooms.
Jilly ducked into the dressing room with the blue dress and Fredricka, who tagged along whether she wanted her to or not. Jilly drew the line by closing the curtain with Fredricka on the other side. Soon as she stepped out, even though she didn't need help in zipping the side zipper, Fredricka insisted. “This shade of blue makes your eyes look sky blue."
But Fredricka didn't have to pitch the dress to Jilly. She was sold. It felt like heaven, light and floating.
"Let's show the guys.” Fredricka swung open the outer door. Jilly followed her out.
"Love it.” Ken clapped. “Turn around."
The Gatsby dress did its stuff. When she moved, the
skirt swayed. The light material gave the longer, flared hemline just the right amount of swish. The round neckline was high in front but wide and open down the back.
Eric whistled.
Jilly asked the price.
"For you dahling, as a friend of Ken's,” Fredricka paused, “let's say a twenty percent discount."
"Our friendship is only worth twenty percent?” Ken rolled his eyes toward the strobe lighted ceiling.
"What's in it for me, Kenny?” Fredricka flapped her purple mascaraed eyelids.
"Let's say a free dinner at the restaurant.” Ken winked.
"Make it dinner for two,” Fredricka cooed, “and I'll let the dress go at wholesale."
"Sold,” Ken said.
Jilly gave Fredricka her credit card before dashing back into the fitting room. By the time she'd changed into her shorts and top, the dress was boxed and ready to go.
When they piled back into the BMW, Eric asked, “Can we eat now?"
"Next stop's the Tarnished Angel,” Ken conceded.
"I have to beg off,” Jilly said. “I promised Ann if I had time tonight, I'd drop by to see her newest quilt. She offered to drive me home. Besides, I'm dying to show her my new dress."
"If it's only the two of us for dinner maybe we'll eat in. We can have a food fight and make up afterwards."
Eric groaned. “Can't we eat something before you start flinging the food?"
Ken caved and Eric floored the gas. In no time Jilly waved bye to her friends from in front of the door to Ann's condo.
Their rowdy remarks and horn tooting brought Ann to the door before Jilly had a chance to ring the bell. “What's all the commotion?"
"That's just Ken's way. His life is a commotion."
Ann laughed. “That's what you need, a to-do that doesn't revolve around your aunts.” She eyed the dress box as she held the door open for Jilly to come in.
"Ken took me to a dress shop.” Jilly placed the box on the foyer floor. “The proprietor likes black a lot, and purple."
"Let's go into the kitchen. You can tell me about the store while I dazzle you with my new cappuccino maker."