by Kim Karr
The way he rolls the l in lady causes me to forget all about the similarities in his greetings between the bartender and myself, and instead causes a shiver to run down my spine. Makes me wonder what else he can do with that tongue.
God, I’m all over the place with my emotions tonight.
Up.
Down.
Next thing I know, they’ll be sideways.
In case you can’t tell, it’s been a while since I’ve had sex. A year to be exact. Last New Year’s Eve, Darren, my boyfriend of an entire month, broke up with me when we ran into his old girlfriend at the party we were at. Turned out, he discovered they were meant to be.
Whatever.
Just another frog turned toad, instead of prince, in a long line of them.
As the bartender starts mixing and pouring, Landon returns his attention my way and then to my lap—more specifically, to the bands of nude satin at the top of my thigh-highs.
You see, my dress rode up a little when I sat, and I have no way of pulling it down without being obvious.
His eyes burn in that direction.
Looks like obvious it has to be. With his eyes still glued to my lap, I shift a little and tug my dress down, or at least I try.
Nothing.
I get a whole lot of nothing.
The dress is simply too short.
What I do get, though, is the wispy lace of my panties rubbing against me. And you guessed it, right there. Not sure I should have worn these skimpy panties at all because now I’m turned on, and not necessarily by my date. I shift one more time to adjust them.
Those big brown eyes are enjoying the lap dance he’s getting. Well, not a real lap dance, of course, but my lap is moving back and forth. And yes, I’ve actually been to a strip club, so I know what I’m talking about.
The sexy lady behind the bar sets our drinks down. “Here you go. Cosmo and gin and tonic with an extra lime.”
Landon directs his attention her way.
Saved by the blonde.
Hallelujah.
Quickly, I lean forward and reach for my drink and then, I uncharacteristically down the entire thing.
So very unladylike.
My mother would be appalled, if we were actually on speaking terms and she had a say in the matter, but we haven’t gotten along well since she left my father for a younger man.
Moving on, after the talk about my brother with that perfect stranger and my erratic nerves, I really need the alcohol to help calm me.
A little surprised that I drained my glass so quickly, Landon stares at me with his glass midair as if he was about to make a toast.
Oops.
“Sorry, I was thirsty,” I lie.
By nature I’m not a liar. Not at all. But this little white one is in the best interest of not airing all my dirty laundry.
So incredibly cute, all he does is laugh.
And just like that, I’ve decided I like him.
The bartender sighs and without prompting, mixes me another. Make that two more. Wednesday night or not, it’s New Year’s Eve, so why not?
Scooting to the edge of my seat, I rearrange myself one more time in the process. Mission accomplished. For now, anyway. Or at least until I have to move again.
“Anything else?” the bartender asks.
Landon’s attention goes to that sugary-sweet voice once again and as he tells her no, he quickly pays for our drinks. Then, turning a little, he faces me and cocks a hip against the bar. “So, Amelia…” He lets my name hang.
Unable to cross my legs for fear of another wardrobe malfunction, I slowly twist my stool in his direction. “Landon.” I smile, filling the silence. “I hear you’re new to the city.”
“Yeah, I am. Really new. In fact, I moved here from Atlanta the day after Christmas.”
“Don’t you have to head back south for spring training?”
He nods. “Tampa. I thought I’d make the move while I had at least a month of less intense training. As a rookie, my time isn’t really mine.” He says the last part with a smile, like he loves not having any time. Loves his job. It’s such a turn-on.
I lift my glass. “Well, Landon, welcome to New York. What do you think so far?”
He clinks his gin and tonic against my cosmo and his brown-eyed gaze roams over every inch of me. “Unfortunately, I haven’t seen much of the city yet. I’ve been pre-training all week. Maybe you could show me around before I have to leave for Florida?”
With more than a sip of my fruity concoction, I nod and smile. “Yes, sure, I’d love to.”
Okay, great. We are on track.
Landon’s slow grin warms me and the feeling goes straight between my thighs.
That upward tilt of his mouth has me staring at his lips. Wondering what they taste like. How they would feel on other parts of my body.
“So, the test is over?”
It stays fixed even as I ask, “What?” over the rim of my cosmo.
“The toad test.”
As what he is saying clicks, I fight to keep my smile in place, but can’t hold back my horror, and my jaw drops.
“Since you already agreed to a second date, I have to assume I passed,” he laughs, turning to one side to show off his profile, then to the other side to show off some more, until finally he looks at me again.
Trying not to spit out my drink because crimson has already coated me from the top of my head to the tip of my toes, somehow I manage to choke out my response. “Actually, it’s a frog.”
He snaps his fingers and points at me. “Right, the frog turns into a toad if you kick him aside. Kind of like Cinderella’s carriage turns into a pumpkin.”
I pick my jaw up off the ground. “Carter told you about my theory?”
The guy next to Landon vacates his stool and Landon takes a seat, swallows a sip of his drink, and then looks at me. “Actually, Carter told his boyfriend, who told his brother, who told me.”
Laughter spills from my mouth, and a joke is the only response to that total and complete embarrassing information leak. “That’s a mouthful. Why don’t you try to say that ten times fast?”
Landon is good-looking and I can’t help but stare at his mouth as he sucks on an ice cube, chews it, and then clears his throat. “Here goes nothing,” he says. “Carter told his boyfriend, who told his brother, who told me you’ve gone out with a lot of frogs and they all turned out to be toads.” He pauses and holds up a finger. “Carter told his…”
I grab his finger and push it down. “Kidding. I was just kidding.”
Landon swivels his stool to fix me with an intense gaze. “I could totally do it, you know.”
Okay, he’s funny, and I like him.
“Hey, love! There you are.”
Before I can answer Landon with a flirty, “I’m sure you can do it. In fact, I’m sure you can do anything you put your mind to,” that very familiar British accent has me twisting my stool.
Dead meat. Carter is such dead meat.
Just at the exact moment I turn around and realize the tops of my stockings are once again showing, Carter decides to snap my picture with his top-of-the-line Nikon. The flash blinds me and I lose my balance while trying to pull my dress down. Before I can stop myself, I’m sliding right off the stool.
Falling.
Falling.
Falling, right onto the floor.
This isn’t really happening.
“Are you okay?” Both Carter and Landon ask in unison.
Blowing the hair from my eyes, I look at them in utter embarrassment.
Seriously, what could possibly be worse than this?
Ever the gentleman that he is, Carter outstretches his arm. But Landon has his hands under my ass—of course he does—and is hoisting me onto my wobbly heels before I can grab for Carter’s hand.
Now standing upright, I pull my dress to cover up the naughty parts that anyone else sitting down there might have seen.
Luckily, I was the only one on the floor.
Squaring my shoulders, I stare at the two of them, who have moved past my mishap and are introducing themselves to each other.
Hello. Hello. What about me?
Landon is holding out his hand toward Carter. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Carter reciprocates. “Not all bad, I hope.”
My little incident is long forgotten.
Okay, this is good.
Embarrassment over.
Landon shakes his head. “No, man, not at all.”
Oh no. Carter is not getting off that easy. I kick him.
“Ouch.”
“Oops,” I say and take a sip of my drink.
With a careful nod, he looks at me. “What was that for?”
Ignoring his question, I smile and say, “Right before you showed up, Landon and I were discussing the fact that you have a big mouth.”
“Me?” he asks innocently, and slaps his hand to his chest for added effect.
“Yes, you,” I tell him and leave it at that.
We will talk later. He and I will definitely be having a chat about what he is and is not allowed to repeat to his new boyfriend. Especially the friends trump lovers rule that he should already know.
“So,” Landon says to him, “You’re here to take pictures tonight?”
“Yeah, party scenes make for great stock images.”
“I bet they do.” Landon smiles.
“Well, listen, I have to run. I just wanted to say hi,” Carter says.
“How about a drink first?” Landon offers.
Dismissing the idea, Carter raises his camera. “Working tonight, I can’t, but you two have fun.”
Practically forgetting I am supposed to be helping him, I raise my camera. “I got some good shots on the street before I arrived and some inside here earlier. I’ll email you everything tomorrow.”
“Bloody awesome,” he says removing my camera from my neck.
“Hey, what are you doing?”
“Taking this. I’ll drop it off at your flat. Don’t worry, love.”
My head tilts to the side in confusion.
“I already snapped more than enough. I’m quitting soon and meeting Eli at his place.”
Accepting that my working for him was simply a guise to get me out, and that now my work is over, I raise a brow. “For a midnight kiss, perhaps?”
Carter gets embarrassed easily talking about anything sexual in front of strangers. It’s the British in him. The façade that he is all buttoned up is hard to take. He is anything but. I mean, he leaves the porn channels on all day long. Since I know this, I can’t help myself. “Maybe even a little New Year’s Eve shag?”
Carter and Eli have been dating for two weeks and have yet to do the deed. Carter isn’t normally like me. Which is to say, he doesn’t wait to have sex. He doesn’t abide by the three-date rule, like I do, or any rules for that matter. However, with Eli he hasn’t made his move. I think he’s waiting for the moment to be perfect.
How romantic.
Carter narrows his stare at me. “You never know what the night will bring.”
I smile at him and kiss him on the cheek, then whisper, “Yes, you never know.”
Carter smiles. “I’ll call you later.”
“You better.”
He then gives Landon a nod. “Treat my girl right,” he says before leaving the two of us alone again.
“He seems like a great guy,” Landon comments when Carter is out of sight.
“Yeah, he is. The best,” I say, and take my seat at the bar.
Landon sits too, and leans in close.
Close enough that instead of his cologne, I can smell the gin he’s been drinking and also catch a whiff of the soap he uses. Fresh and clean. Irish Spring I’d bet. When I ignore any lingering tobacco-scented cologne, he smells like a whole lot of yum. Out of nowhere, I have this urge to lick him.
It’s the alcohol.
“So, Amelia,” he says, and once again leaves the word hanging.
Smiling at his nervousness, I stare at him and I swear I feel my clit pulse so frantically that I have to squeeze my thighs together. “So, Landon,” I lamely respond.
His tongue slides along his bottom lip, leaving it glistening. “Tell me your favorite things to do in the city.”
I cross my legs, knowing exactly what I’m doing, and start talking about the Met, Central Park, and all the hidden places I escape to and photograph.
His eyes are once again glued to my lap and they widen more and more with every word I say.
Just like that, we are in phase two of our blind date, and in the words of my best friend…it is going bloody well.
Or as my brother Camden would say…fanfuckingtastic.
3
Mean Girls
Amelia
Traveling back to the gilded age at The Griffin is a long-reigning favorite pastime of New York City’s nightlife elite. The supercharged and hyper-swanky atmosphere is favored by the city’s jet-set crowd, Wall Street wolves, top fashion models, and entertainment moguls. And of course, their sons and daughters, too.
Four drinks, and more than an hour and a half later, I find myself about to do something with Landon I haven’t done in a while.
Dance.
My anxiety increases tenfold as Landon makes his way through the crowd and leads me up the stairs.
Back on the main level, the crowd is jammed elbow to elbow. The dance floor is all the way at the back of the club and it might take a while to get there.
Which is good, because I could use the time to gather my courage.
Passing the built-in benches wedged against the wall, I find myself searching the faces of those sitting there. Most I don’t recognize. And though some of them are people I know, from where I’m not exactly certain.
I think one of them is a famous DJ who spins records, or whatever it is DJs do these days. Oh, and I think that is Ed Westwick sitting in the corner. I met him once when he was filming Gossip Girl outside my school. Oh, oh, I think that is Jensen Ackles on the dance floor. Although I wouldn’t swear that it is. I really don’t care for supernatural television shows. I prefer comedies to drama because I like to laugh. Hate reality TV. And love to watch old Batman reruns.
Now movies and Hollywood film actors, they’re a different story. I love watching movies of all kinds, from romantic comedies to scary thrillers. I don’t discriminate, but the sixties, sex-kitten kind are my favorites.
Suddenly, Landon’s cologne seems to have grown stronger. The smell of tobacco almost suffocating me, I have to hold my breath.
When my gaze lands on a familiar female face, I forget all about the scent in the air. She’s no celebrity or mogul, but wolf—that title fits her perfectly. Although I prefer to use the term ice queen when it comes to her. My workmate, who also happens to be my brother Camden’s ex-girlfriend, is sitting with her back pressed against the velvet cushion, and some guy who I can’t see at all has his face buried in her neck.
I never liked Vanessa.
Ever.
I avoided her when she was with my brother, and now I avoid her in the office at all possible costs. Luckily, The Waters Group is big and we rarely run into each other.
How Vanessa managed to win over Camden’s heart and befriend Brandon, too, is still a mystery to me. I never understood it.
Still don’t.
Thank God, Camden finally came to his senses and ended his relationship with her. Something big went down, though, because he not only broke up with her, but also took off for California at the same time. Incompatibility is what he claimed as the reason for their breakup. I know there was more to it but didn’t push him to tell me. He was upset enough. Besides, it wasn’t any of my business anyway.
And with the fucked-up condition of our fractured family, I didn’t blame him for moving across the country. I’ve thought about it many times myself. Just never got the courage to leave my father here alone.
Those vibrant green eyes of hers lock on mine. Vaness
a is beautiful. Tall and thin, with long, dark hair and a confidence about her that brings men to their knees.
Seriously, I don’t get it. I mean as soon as she opens her mouth, that snotty personality has to snap men out of her hypnotic spell.
Yet it doesn’t.
Like I said, I don’t get it.
The club is lit in lines of silver and gold. Confetti is being thrown everywhere. I think the room might be spinning. No, that’s my head. Needing to catch my breath, I tap Landon on the shoulder. When he turns around, I tell him I have to use the ladies’ room. Leading me there, he stops at the end of the hallway and leans against the wall. I give him a smile and a peck on the cheek, and then make my way toward my destination.
Seeing Vanessa with another guy is opening up the closet full of memories I want to keep shut. Reminding me of my reality.
That Camden is gone.
That Brandon is dead.
That my parents are divorced.
That I hardly speak to my mother.
And that I really don’t like my job. The fact is that I took the job working for my father because I don’t want to disappoint him, not because I want to be there. I had to do it, though. My father had already lost so much, there was no way I was about to let him down and do something other than work for The Waters Group.
Inside the glitzy walls of the restroom, I take one breath, two, three, and four. After having calmed myself, I splash water on my cheeks, my throat, the insides of my wrists.
Rolling on some lip gloss and powdering my nose doesn’t change much. I’m one hot mess. Trying to fix my hair, which at this point in the night is completely unfixable, also doesn’t change much.
Frizz is in style, or so I’ve heard anyway.
I fuss for a few seconds with the part that is far over to the right and tuck some of my shoulder-length hair behind my ears. I’ve thought about cutting my hair even shorter, like Twiggy once did, but with the amount of volume and natural curl I have, I might look more like a chia pet than a girl.
Giving up on my appearance, I place my palms flat upon the vanity and look at my flushed reflection in the mirror.
This is the face of a woman who is lost. Looking for something at every turn that she very well may never find.