Four Play: A Collection of Novellas (33 page)

I laughed. “What’s the point? I’d like to go home and forget this weekend ever happened.”

“That’s fine, but first, water.” Martin walked over to the bar and Monica took a step closer to me.

“What happened?” Monica asked. “I spoke to Lauren last night and she said things were going great.”

“You talked to her?” With a rod suddenly propelling my spine straight, I asked, “What did she say?”

“When I told her about our…encounter, I could tell something was wrong. We stayed up until two o’clock talking it out. Let’s just say that my instinct was that you weren’t really the domineering type. You weren’t really my type at all. No offense.” She laughed. “And after the way Lauren spoke about you, I knew to back off.”

“I’m not.” I slouched. “The domineering type, I mean. And no offense, but you weren’t really my type either.”

“What happened today? She was so excited when I talked to her. And she was gone before I woke.”

“Nothing, Monica. And absolutely everything.” I sighed. “But Jack is an ass, I’m a moron, and she should just go back to Vancouver without having to bother with me ever again.” I looked at her briefly, then down again, shaking my head. “I messed up.”

“You didn’t hurt her, did you?”

“Not physically, no. But I’m sure she’s pretty upset. She was crying when I left.”

“Asshole! What did you do?”

After taking a deep breath, I explained the entire situation to Monica and Martin. I don’t know how much of the story I got straight, because to be quite frank, I barely remembered how I’d started each sentence, let alone how I finished them. But by the end of my explanation, she seemed to be content that I hadn’t hurt Lauren intentionally, and that the entire thing was a huge misunderstanding.

There could’ve been some pleading on my part, but in the end Monica gave me a hug and told me not to worry about it. But with that, I merely scowled.

“I’m going to go upstairs and have a chat with Lauren,” she said. “And if I see Jack, I’m going to squeeze his balls until they pop,” she whispered. “I’ll pry the peanut butter M&Ms from her hands and explain it to her.” She gave me a tap on the back and a wink. “I’ll put in a good word for you. Sober up, like Marty said, and don’t come back to your room for about…” Marty walked back to the table, and her eyes raked up and down his body. “….four hours.”

With a hearty laugh, I said, “I just want to make sure she’s okay. She doesn’t want to speak to me, and that’s fine.” I frowned. “Just don’t let her believe any of this was done to purposely upset her. I didn’t intend for this to happen.”

“I believe you, Mike.” Monica nodded. “Lauren might take some convincing, though.”

The crowd parts, the two are reunited, and insta-love ensues.

A little over an hour later, and relatively sober, I was able to look at the situation a little clearer.

Jack’s
intentions were cruel and nasty. I’d fought with my conscience the whole weekend over it; I wasn’t a bad guy, and I hoped Monica had some luck convincing Lauren of that fact as well.

Martin and Monica had left the bar to find Lauren, and a crowd had gathered now that the convention had ended. The service staff, the patrons, and the management all scurried around me like ballroom dancers, and it was difficult to see anyone entering the lounge from where I sat.

I didn’t know what I was doing, still sitting there alone like a loser. But I knew that if Monica had been successful in her chat with Lauren, this would be the first place she’d come to look for me.

I didn’t have a plan of what I’d say to her if she appeared. Everything with Lauren had been unscripted. She liked me for who I was, not for anyone I could’ve tried to be. To me, that meant something. It might have been a simple idea, but it was too farfetched in the beginning for me to consider it.

There was at least one woman in the world that I didn’t have to pretend with.

I glanced up, and the crowd dissipated around her. She stood in a yellow sundress, her skin flushed pink from the sun on the beach that morning, enhancing the small freckles on her nose. Her radiance emanated—even with her squinted eyes—and I swallowed thickly, taking her in.

She probably couldn’t see me without her glasses, which I was thankful for, because it let me watch her as warmth settled in my chest. She carried a small yellow purse that matched her dress, and her chin dropped in disappointment when she didn’t find what she was looking for.

I stood up with a hopeful smile, hesitant to call her name. I hoped she’d look up and see me, and decide that it wasn’t a bad idea to come here after all. And that if she was there for me, she’d come to the conclusion that she could trust me, and that I wasn’t the dick she’d believed I was for the past few hours.

She glanced up, and her face softened when our eyes met. The chatter in the bar softened as a song began to play over the intercom. But for how inappropriate as “Black Betty” was, I dismissed it and let myself focus on the beauty across the room.

Give me another chance, Lauren,
I pleaded in thought. I held my breath in the hope that she’d give me a sign.

She marched toward me and set her purse on the table. We stood eye to eye for a moment, and several expressions crossed her face: first anger, then sadness, and finally, a small smile.

“May I join you?” she asked.

I nodded, never taking my eyes from hers. “Please do.”

I pulled out a chair and she sat gracefully, tucking her skirt underneath her and allowing me to push her chair closer to the table. I sat quickly and leaned in, so that so much as a breath wouldn’t be missed.

I closed my eyes briefly, breathing deeply and pulling every last bit of air between us so that nothing would separate us.

“I’m so sorry, Lauren. I never meant—”

She put her hand up and interrupted me. “I know.” She smiled. “I knew even before Monica came upstairs to confirm it. I put the pieces together. I’m just glad I found you.”

I let out a ragged breath and nodded, grateful that she knew the truth. Thankful that she was as thoughtful as I’d hoped she’d be. And humbled by the sloppy and emotional drunk I’d been just a short while ago, having thought I’d never get to see her beautiful smile again.

“I feel sorry for Jack, though. Monica is out looking for him now,” she added. Her giggle faded, and her eyes wandered over my face and chest, memorizing the moment. As if she couldn’t quite see me clear enough, she asked, “Can you do me a favor? Will you take your glasses off for a minute?”

It should’ve been a strange question to hear, and one that I should’ve asked her about. But I didn’t want to press my luck; I was already shown mercy from the gods of fate when she’d returned to me. I looked around the room, and the clinking of glasses silenced in my head as my fingers adjusted my frames. I slid off my glasses carefully, folded them, and set them on the table.

Her pupils dilated, and she smiled. The room was thick with anticipation, and I waited for her to speak. I cocked my head to the side and flashed a smirk; it was the only thing I could think to do with the unsettled jitters springing alive again in my gut.

“Can I take you away from here?” I asked. “There’s still a few hours left of this day, and I don’t want to waste another minute of this weekend without you. I know it sounds stupid, maybe even cliché,” I laughed, “and I know that tomorrow we’re going to return to our boring, normal lives. But I’ve been miserable for the past few hours thinking my new friend hated me.” I bowed my head, and stood to lean across the table. My lips grazed her ear and goose bumps ignited over her arms. With a small nibble, I whispered, “And I really like her.”

***

The Fisherman’s Restaurant was just below Seattle’s Great Wheel, a large Ferris wheel that took its passengers up over the skyline. We’d seen it from the park earlier that day, but I never mentioned it was one of the places I’d planned to take her.

We bought our tickets for the Wheel and then sat at the bar. What conversation we had was forced, the inevitable night ahead stretching the minutes. I should’ve just taken her back to my room and made love to her, but she was better than that. I wanted more for her, and I wanted her to take back memories of this weekend like I knew
I
would.

There was so much I never wanted to forget.

But no matter how memorable, time and distance made it likely that it would slip away from us. That’s exactly why I didn’t want that moment to fade away.

Her full lips folded over the rim of the wine glass, giving them a brief red stain until her tongue swept across to get the last drop. Her golden skin was tinged pink and glistened across her bare arms and chest like raw silk, calling for me to reach for her. She wore little makeup, just as I preferred, and her perfume had once again hypnotized me.

“Are you ready for this?” She cleared her throat.

I gave her a devilish smirk. “Are you afraid of heights?”

“I guess we’re about to find out,” she laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever been that high before.”

“We have five minutes before the ride starts. Shall we?” I asked, eager to get her inside the gondola, alone, where my intentions were to get my lips onto hers.

“Yes.” Taking her last sip of wine, she then stood and I escorted her outside. With a shiver, she wrapped her sweater around her shoulders and rubbed her hands over her arms for friction. The Wheel was right above us, the ticket booth was in the parking lot of the restaurant, and we walked slowly to the entry.

“Are you still cold? I’m afraid I don’t have anything to offer you except my shirt,” I chuckled. But the smoldering and seductive look in her eyes nearly brought me to my knees, reveling in the thought of being alone with her in a few short minutes.

“Is that what you’re going to do, hero? Offer me the shirt from your back?” We laughed, and I handed the attendant our tickets.

The minutes stretched longer than any two minutes in the history of minutes. Extreme, maybe, but I’d only be looking for her sign of approval before I let my inhibitions go. I wasn’t going to miss another opportunity with Lauren.

We inched our way up the line, one inappropriate thought after another flooding into my mind, and I imagined every possible compromising situation I’d have her in that night, if she’d let me.

The wait was agonizing.

Finally, our gondola got into position, and a man ushered us in. There was room enough for four inside the glass bubble, but since there was no one waiting behind us, he shut the doors and pressed a button to make us rise.

Lauren sat with her long, smooth legs crossed over each other, setting her purse on the seat next to her. She scooted over to the corner, and I sat opposite her. Watching her closely, I hooded my eyes as her anticipation bobbed in her foot and she fidgeted with the hem of her dress.

“If I forget to tell you,” she interrupted my heated gaze, “thank you for today. This is the best weekend I’ve ever had.”

“You’re welcome.” I smiled. “Me too.”

There were no lights on inside the gondola, and as we lifted from the ground the entire city lowered beneath us, giving us an illuminating view of the nightlife Seattle offered. It was a depressing thought to remember that just twenty-four hours earlier I could’ve called that city my home.  I didn’t know if it made me a jackass or proud that I hadn’t taken Jack’s offer, but at that moment and with another glance at Lauren, I knew there was no other place I should’ve been.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, as we reached the peak and started our descent. The sun was beginning to set and the small orange burst lowered into the ocean, little by little. There was nothing to see for miles except dark waters and an occasional fishing boat.

She stood, and with the slight rocking of the gondola, she took a step toward me. I sat casually, my hands crossed over my lap and my feet spread apart.

With one leg between mine, and her knee bent on the bench at my side, she leaned in for a kiss and I hungrily returned it. It seemed she’d had the same intentions as I did before we got there, and I was restless to taste her sweet lips again.

She climbed on top of my lap effortlessly, one leg on either side of me, and folded herself into me. All the while her tongue entangled with mine, and her hips began to glide against me.

“I want you here. Now,” I mumbled, taking my mouth away from hers briefly.

She grabbed a handful of my hair with a soft tug, leaning back in for more.

I brought my hand to the apex of her thighs and another rush of goose bumps ignited across her skin. I was nervous to touch her, but greedy. She was too perfect for a guy like me. I was fumbling idiot most of the time, but with her it didn’t seem to matter.

She rewarded me with a soft moan, coaxing me to continue, and a frenzied satisfaction rolled through me. Sweeping one finger over her cotton panties, I brushed lightly against her sensitive bud, and her hips lowered as she attempted to grind herself against my hand. But I wouldn’t allow this moment to go beyond teasing—not in a place so public and foreign to both of us.

Another helpless groan flew from her mouth, and I smiled against her lips.

We neared the bottom again and I quickly lifted her off of me, setting her at my side. The usher nodded as we passed, and we put on fake smiles to return the gesture.

We’d be going around one more time.

The moment he was out of view, Lauren resumed her position on my lap, her lips returned to mine, and my hand inched below her stomach. “Please tell me I can have you tonight,” I begged shamelessly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more,” she whispered, cupping my hand in hers and sliding them beneath the elastic of her yellow panties. Throwing her head back, she glided my fingers along her wet sex while thrusting her hips into me.

She was so slippery, so sensual, and her nipples poked out from the thin material in her tiny yellow dress. The backdrop was perfect: I had a beautiful woman on my lap, groaning and grinding against me, and the sunset dipped into the ocean with the city lights on the horizon.

She pleaded a soft laugh, “Oh, Michael.” Her hips picked up tempo slightly, and her shaky breath staggered. She brought her nose to mine just as I slipped a finger inside of her. A gasp left her swollen lips and she threw her head back again as her dark curtain of hair swayed behind her.

My need for this woman had been building throughout the day, but it was at a breaking point. And as she thrust herself forward, burying my finger inside of her, she released the breath she’d been holding in the form of a whisper: “Michael.”

Every inch of me ached for her.

But the ride was coming to an end. The gondola shuddered as it started and stopped, letting the people below us off and a new set of sightseers on.

“Lauren,” I spoke softly. “You either come for me now, or we wait until I can get you back to the hotel room. We have about three minutes. It’s entirely up to you.”

She shook her head. “No,” she pleaded. “I don’t want to stop now. But three minutes?”

I laughed. “I promise, once we get back to your hotel room, we can start all over again.”

She swallowed and nodded, hesitantly removing herself from my lap. Simultaneously, we took a deep breath, trying to shake off our hormonal surge, and she sat quietly beside me.

When a woman so fair touches any part of you, the devastation you feel when she pulls herself away is agony. I could only imagine what she’d do to my heart.