After all, it was her birthday and for this one night, she was not going to be predictable.
Chapter Three
Tori hesitantly examined one bra-and-panty set after another on the rack. Of all of her friends, except maybe mousy Juliana, she knew the least about sexy underthings.
She moved one La Perla bra away and an Alberta Ferretti ensemble caught her eye. Then she dismissed it. The color was wrong for her brunette tones. Snapping the hanger over and moving to the next one, she thought, What do I know about the getting-lucky kind of sex? She wasn’t that kind of girl normally. Her last few relationships hadn’t gone past dinner on the first night and the realization that the guy was definitely not a Mr. Right.
“Easy, chica,” the shop owner urged as she stepped away from the counter and came to stand by Tori. “You’re bruising the merchandise.”
Turning, Tori shot an apologetic smile at Georgie, the shop owner, who was wearing a maraschino red peignoir and matching underthings that somehow didn’t clash with the warm brown tones of her skin. Actually, it makes her look like an inside-out chocolate-covered cherry, Tori thought, suddenly hungry again. “Sorry, Georgie. I’m just not in a good mood today.”
Her friend Sylvia had met Georgie, formerly Jorge in another life, nearly six years ago on one of her first magazine assignments. Sylvia had been asked to do a short piece on the gender illusionists that worked at the revues in various Miami hot spots and hotels. Something about Georgie had clicked with Sylvia and they had become friends.
Recently, whenever lingerie was needed as a gift, Sylvia dragged one friend or another with her to Georgie’s lingerie shop. Tori had also shopped at Georgie’s occasionally—for gifts for others.
“Man problems?” Georgie asked in a falsetto voice while placing her hands on nearly flat hips.
Tori shook her head and continued flipping through the racks of lingerie. “With my friends. They’ve planned this big cumpleaño surprise for me—a night on a casino yacht.”
“My, that’s a delicious surprise. I’m guessing this is one of the big ones—thirty? And I’m also guessing you need a little something special.” Georgie stepped to the rack beside Tori.
“Mami and Angelica want … Never mind what they want.” Tori stopped, took one set off the rack and held it up before her. “What do you think?”
Georgie waved a manicured hand decorated with a plethora of rings. A dozen bangles clinked together with each flick of her wrist. “Too boring, but are you sure about this?”
Tori wasn’t sure about anything anymore except one thing. “It’s a woman thing, right? To want your sisters and daughters and friends to be happy? So if they think this surprise and something a little naughty will help me—”
“Well, of course it will help. It will make you feel sexy, even if only you know you’re wearing it.” Georgie executed another flamboyant wave of her hand, as if she sensed the rising panic behind Tori’s words. “Although, you strike me as more of a cotton kind of girl.”
Tori found Georgie’s candor refreshing. She chuckled and nodded at the shop owner’s read of her tastes. But then again, maybe a little surprise kept things lively. She skimmed through a few more outfits until one caught her eye.
She removed the deliciously sinful, tiger print Roberto Cavalli camisole-and-panty set from the rack. Light blue lace edged with black piping trimmed both the camisole and panties. Matching light blue satin ribbons sealed the front opening of the camisole and the face of the panties. The combination screamed Naughty meets Nice. Perfect! And it was in her size. Tori held the outfit in front of her. “Well?”
A broad smile lit Georgie’s face. “Chica, if you meet a man and that outfit doesn’t have the Little General doing a full salute, you’re in the wrong kind of trouble.”
Tori handed the outfit and gift card to Georgie. “Then let’s hope tonight brings me nothing but the right kind of trouble.”
* * *
Tori smoothed the lines of the figure-hugging brand spankin’ new scarlet Michael Kors dress. After buying the lingerie, she recollected Adriana’s admonishment of that morning. Nada, absolutely nada in her closet would pass muster with Adriana.
Bowing to the fashion gods, who would surely smite her dead for combining the Cavalli with her Ann Taylor, she had jumped into her Sebring convertible and driven to the upscale Bal Harbour mall where she indulged herself in the Kors dress.
As she whirled in front of the mirror, Tori decided it had been worth the splurge. She felt … sexy. In charge. Powerful. A feeling she usually only got in court.
If a change in clothes could wreak such a change … It was no wonder the cult of fashion was so powerful. Tori vowed to reconsider how she’d spend the remainder of her partnership bonus.
She slipped on her solid-gold Tag Heuer, purchased with the first part of her bonus, and paired it with a teardrop-shaped diamond necklace that draped into the deep V of her neckline. Adding a few gold bracelets and rings, because she was suddenly feeling more girlie-girl than she had in years, she took one last look at her makeup.
The makeup was another indulgence from her trip to the mall. Passing by the counters and feeling heady from the mist of a thousand perfume spray testers, she’d decided it was time to trash the Maybelline and move up in the world. The clerk at the M.A.C counter had helped her select a variety of things, including a lipstick that made her lips look fuller and lush, but shy of that bee-stung model look. Tori was often tempted to stick a too-full-lipped fashionista to a window to see if she would cling like one of those ’80s Garfield toys that were still glued to the windows of many older-model Miami autos.
The eye shadow, a smoky gray with a hint of mauve, enhanced the green flecks in her hazel eyes, making her look almost exotic. And the scarlet of her dress looked good against her tanned skin and brought out the auburn tones of her dark brown hair.
Not a bad way to hit thirty, she thought, wondering how her friends would react to the change.
They’d wanted her to try something different and she’d definitely taken them up on it. And because she was feeling decidedly naughty—a byproduct of her underthings—if something exciting happened to come her way, she vowed not to turn him away. She’d embrace the moment and not worry about a thing. In fact, just to keep things simple and uncomplicated, she wouldn’t even ask his name.
This was a new Tori after all. Sinfully Sexy Tori. Ready for Anything Tori.
Chapter Four
Sinfully Sexy Tori. Ready for Anything Tori.
Tori repeated the mantra as she left her apartment, strolled down the block to the Cardozo Hotel, then to the Versace mansion. She increased the tempo of her mantra as she went past the Clevelander Bar, Edison Hotel, and Lario’s to the heart of the Ocean Drive strip and her friends’ restaurant.
Although Adriana and Juliana had been in business only two years, the restaurant already had a solid reputation that had turned her friends into local celebrities. The success of their collaboration had been featured in a number of local and national papers and magazines. Copies of the articles hung on the wall at the front of the restaurant.
Tori walked up to the hostess who greeted her. “Feliz cumpleaño,” the young woman said. “Adriana and Juli will be by shortly. Let me show you to your table.”
Saying nothing that would give away that she was aware the dinner at the restaurant was a ruse, Tori followed the hostess and sat down. Almost immediately, a waiter brought over ice-cold mojitos and placed one at each seat.
Tori inclined her head and gave him her thanks. She was both pleased and a little surprised that Adriana and Juli would agree to leave the restaurant on a Friday night, usually the busiest of the week. Especially Adriana, who, although she wouldn’t admit it, was even more of a control freak than Tori.
Picking up her mojito, she took a sip of the sweet minty drink, raised it in an imaginary toast to her absentee friends, and then settled back to savor the sights of a South Beach night as she waited for her amigas.
Along the sidewalk before her, tourists and locals streamed along the Ocean Drive strip. Across the way, in-line skaters rolled along the concrete path snaking the length of Lummus Park, while lovers strolled along beside them.
As Tori sat on the open-air veranda of the restaurant, the loud pachang-pachang of Latin music from one car fought the machine-gunlike beat of hip-hop from another as the vehicles cruised along the strip. Tori watched the parade, from the classic cars of the fifties to the latest European imports, all waxed to within an inch of their steel-and-chrome lives. As the cars passed beneath the signs illuminating the South Beach night, metal jumped to life and reflected back the neon hues.
She smiled at all the commotion buzzing around her and thought, Life is pretty good even if …
Tori didn’t get a chance to complete the thought as a stretch Hummer limo battled its way into the valet parking space in front of the restaurant. The doors popped open, her friends spilled out and, spying her on the veranda, raced over to envelop her in a tangle of arms and kisses.
Their effusiveness wrapped around her, unblighted until the moment Sylvia whipped something small and black out of her purse. Dios mío, something that looked suspiciously like a blindfold!
“Surprise!” Sylvia shouted.
“I’ll say.” Tori reached for the slip of fabric, but Sylvia moved it out of reach.
Adriana wrapped an arm around Tori’s shoulders and gave her a playful little shake. “We’ve planned something really special for you.”
“Sí. Nothing that you’d expect,” Juli confirmed, a little shyly and almost awkwardly as she stood by Sylvia.
“But we want it to stay a surprise for now.” Sylvia jumped in and dangled the slip of fabric before Tori’s face once again.
Sinfully Sexy Tori, she reminded herself, thinking that such a Tori would not have any issues with a little blindfold action. Unlike über-anal Tori, who would confess she knew everything and ruin it. The new Tori was going along with their surprise, even wearing the blindfold. But first …
She raised her index finger to stop Sylvia as she went to put on the blindfold and reached over to the table for her mojito. Motioning to her amigas to pick up their glasses, she held up the drink. “To life, love and always being friends,” she said, repeating the toast that they shared on their regular Monday night get-togethers.
Glasses clinked together crazily and after, Tori took a long sip of her drink, needing the boost of courage that she hoped the rum would give her. Mojito-fortified, Sinfully Sexy Tori took a step closer to Sylvia, closed her eyes and said, “I’m all yours.”
* * *
Being driven around while blindfolded was a little disconcerting even though she could tell where they were from the motion of the car.
Along Ocean Drive there had been just the jarring stop and go due to the volume of cruising cars ignoring the NO CRUISING signs posted along the length of the road. But as soon as the driver turned onto Fifth Street, the limo picked up speed, as did the conversation of her friends who chatted about how wonderful Tori looked and how she would totally enjoy the surprise they had planned.
Tori murmured her agreement, holding back her own little secret as she felt the rise of the limo that told her they were going up and over the MacArthur Causeway and would soon be turning toward Bayside Marketplace and the many docks adjacent to it.
“Have any idea yet?” Juli asked breathlessly.
“Not a one,” Tori lied. A few minutes later, after several more turns, the limo came to a smooth stop.
Silence descended in the car, as if her amigas were suddenly having second thoughts. A hand gently grasped her shoulder. Adriana’s? she wondered, then came Adriana’s soft, “Ready?”
“Doesn’t the blindfolded prisoner usually get one last request?” she teased.
Sylvia chuckled. “Chica, you can ask for anything tonight —later. For right now…”
Sylvia slipped her hand into Tori’s. “Just follow me.”
Exerting subtle pressure, Sylvia helped Tori step from the car and onto the sidewalk. A second later, Sylvia and Adriana eased their arms around Tori’s and escorted her along, the ground smooth beneath her high-heeled feet.
“You still there, Juli?” Tori called out, worried their other friend might be falling behind as she often did.
Her gentle touch came on Tori’s exposed shoulder confirming her presence, but she said nothing. Typical of her retiring friend.
All was right for now. All would stay right this night. She had to have faith in that.
Tori took a deep breath. The combined smells of diesel fuel and ocean teased her nostrils. There was the slap-slap of water against a dock and the low rumbling murmur of an engine. It only confirmed what Tori already knew about their destination, but she was still anxious to see where they were going. “Are we there yet?”
A clanging metal sound announced the presence of the gangplank and her two friends eased Tori to a stop.
“You can take the blindfold off now,” Juli said. Tori reached up and slipped it off.
Before her was a large yacht, gleaming almost electric white against the dark waters, thanks to the lights from its berth in Bayfront Park. Four decks were visible above water. The three lower decks were enclosed while the topmost deck was open to the sea air. On that uppermost deck were dozens of people along the railings. The sounds of their merriment peppered the night air.
Tori tried to maintain an aura of surprise and to quell the unexpected rush of excitement. “And this is…?”
“A casino yacht. And we have two staterooms on the top deck for a special overnight gambling cruise. Leave tonight and come back in the morning,” Adriana explained.
“But I don’t have anything—”
Juli stepped around Sylvia and held up a small overnight bag. “We’ve got all the stuff you’ll need for tonight right in here. And you have one stateroom all to yourself.”
Tori eyed her friends and shook her head. “Really? Does the everything include a Mr. Right to share the room?”
Adriana held her hands up and waved off the suggestion. “Chica, that possibility is up to you to explore—”
“And explore often,” Sylvia suggested with a Groucho-like wiggle of her eyebrows.
“If you meet someone, that is. We haven’t arranged that. We promise,” Juli clarified and made a little cross-her-heart-and-hope-to-die motion with her finger. A bright stain of pink colored her cheeks. Juli was always the most reticent of the three when it came to discussions of sex. For a moment, Tori wondered if Juli was still a virgin. However, there weren’t many thirty-year-old virgins in this world.
Shaking her head, she looked at Sylvia and Adriana once more. “Promise, no blind-date setup? Just gambling—”
“And dinner and dancing and drinks. Promise,” Adriana replied and held her hand out in the direction of the gangplank.
Tori eased the blindfold into the side pocket of her small black Prada purse—another product of her splurge at the mall along with the matching high heels that made her feel a little wobbly but did marvelous things for her legs.
The gangplank swayed beneath her feet, forcing her to grab the brass hand railings for support. She worried that the rest of the cruise would be as unsteady. Remember fun and sexy, Tori chastised silently and struggled onward until her feet hit the deck of the ship and the floor beneath her steadied.
Laying a hand along her midsection, she breathed in deeply of the sea air and turned to meet her friends as they spilled off the gangplank, chuckling and laughing as if they’d just come off a fun-house ramp. For a moment, Tori envied their uninhibited spirit, then she let it wash over her and joined in. “This is going to be quite a night, isn’t it?”
“One you’ll hopefully never forget,” Adriana replied. She looped her arm through Tori’s and said, “Let’s all get settled in the rooms before we shove off.”
“And then that drinking and dancing—” Sylvia added, slipping her arm through Juli’
s, who reminded, “After the dinner, that is.”
“Agreed. And afterwards, I plan on getting lucky,” Tori said, but quickly clarified, “at the blackjack table.”
Adriana teasingly shook Tori’s arm. “Ay, amiga. You know that being lucky at cards means—”
“Being unlucky at love,” Sylvia finished, prompting groans from all of them.
Tori glanced over her shoulder at Sylvia. “Well, since I’m not one to believe in clichés or other predictable kinds of things—”
Which prompted even more protests from all of them since Tori was at times a walking cliché about predictability. Tori understood them all too well and how to elicit their fairly predictable response, so she decided to shake them up a little. “You are looking at a new woman tonight. One who plans on being spontaneous—”
“Isn’t that an oxymoron? Planned spontaneity?” Sylvia challenged.
Tori raised her hands in surrender. “Bien. So you can’t plan spontaneity, but for tonight—this is Nonpredictable Tori. Expect the Unexpected Tori.”
Adriana narrowed her gaze as she glanced at her friend. “¿De verdad? So, if Mr. Right happens to come along—”
“Carpe diem, I say,” Tori advised.
“And I say, grab something else,” Sylvia teased.
Juli chuckled and blushed more profusely before stopping in front of one of the staterooms. “Sylvita, you have a one-track mind.”
Sylvia nodded, slipped a key into the door and opened it. “And I hope that one-track leads you here tonight, Tori. With some sweet Papi Chulo.”
It had been nearly fifteen years since she and her friends had laid out the requirements for the title of Papi Chulo, namely, that the man in question had to be sexy and good-looking with possibly a hint of bad boy thrown in. At fifteen, that had seemed to be enough. In the years since then, the list of requirements had grown.
Friday Night Chicas Page 7