Taking Back Beautiful (7 page)

“No I don’t,” I chuckle. “It’s every day.”

She shakes her head, “I can’t believe you’re my son. You’re more incorrigible now than you were at sixteen.”

“Yup,” I laugh.

We’re having brunch at the Hotel Del Coronado in San Diego. We sit at an umbrella covered table on the Sheerwater Restaurant patio. Just past the green grass and the brick path, the waves of the Pacific roll up onto the golden sand of the beach which runs along the west side of the hotel.

“Your father was never a wildcat like you.” Her smile fades to sadness. “I miss your father.” She stares at me with wet eyes.

“Me too.” I choke out the words.

We both stare at the ocean for a long time.

“This was your father’s favorite place to take me.” Her words are thin and whispery.

“I know. He always told me if I was ever going to propose to someone, I should do it here.”

Mom stares at me sideways, “Are you thinking about proposing to this new girl?”

“This one is special.”

“How many times have I heard that before?”

I roll my eyes. She knows my history. “I’m serious, Mom. She’s not like any of the other girls I’ve ever been with. She’s one of my clients.”

“Is that a good idea? Mixing business with pleasure?” She’s always trying to mother me.

“It’s fine, Mom. I’m not crossing any lines.”

She arches an eyebrow.

“Okay. Maybe one line. But that’s all I’m going to cross. I promise.”

“And does this one have a name?”

“Yeah,” I grin. “Daphne Bowman.”

#b#b#b#

DAPHNE

“How are things with Apollo?” Lynn asks over lunch in the courtyard several weeks later. “Still hot and heavy?”

“I wouldn’t say that. But things are definitely perfect,” I grin.

“Have you advanced the physical relationship?” She winks over her sandwich.

“Sadly, no. Another trainer quit two weeks ago, so Apollo had to pick up the slack.”

“Are you two still having dinner after every training session?”

“Yup,” I smile.

“Any more of those steamy after-dinner make out sessions?”

“No,” I giggle. “I think he’s tired from working so many hours. But I don’t mind. Things started off a bit too quickly. I’m good at this pace.”

“He’s not pressuring you for sex?”

“Nope. But I think we’re generally heading in a bedroom direction.”

Lynn’s eyes blow up. “My tender little flower! Are you going to let him punch your V-Card?”

I blush, “Probably. Did I tell you I’m a year older than him?”

“No! Younger men are always hot!”

“It’s only a year.”

“Still. I can’t tell you how happy I am for you, Daphne. He sounds like a really great guy.”

“He is.”

“Any more squat fucking?” she chuckles over her sandwich.

“No! Mmmm, not yet, anyway.”

“You know you want to try it for real. Without clothes.”

“Lynn!”

“I would!”

“Is Matt still not into it?”

“Are you kidding? I never told him! He’d never stop pestering me if I had. Ever since having the boys, I don’t think I have the energy for something like that. Matt and I are strictly missionary these days. So you better get any squat fucking done before you get married. That way you can fill me in on what I’m missing.”

I roll my eyes. “I’ll keep you posted.”

“Do that.” She chews on her sandwich and swallows while staring at me. “Is it just me, or are you losing weight?”

“I think I am. All of my clothes feel loose for the first time since I can remember.”

“Well, good on you, girl! Take me with you when you go wardrobe shopping. I need some me time. Preferably with someone fun like you.” She shakes her head, “I swear, my boys are driving me crazy. Dylan got in another fight at school.”

“He did?! What happened?!”

“Oh, get this…”

Chapter 11

DAPHNE

Apollo says, “My mom’s in town this weekend. Do you want to meet her?”

I do a squat. “Sure.” The bar on my shoulders has a 25 pound plate on each side. My form is good: back arched, butt out.

Apollo doesn’t even have to spot me. But he stares at my crotch in the mirror every time I go down. He bites his lower lip, “I really like how that looks.”

I almost blurt,
Why don’t you get under me then?
I don’t. But I want to. It’s been months since we met. Over ten official dress up dates. More if you count all the casual dinners we’ve shared. We’re up into the thirties at this point. I know the old school rule is sex on the third date. After thirty dates, I think it’s safe to say I should be ready. And considering I turn 30 in a few months, it’s probably about time I lose my virginity. But Apollo still hasn’t made a move. I lock eyes with him in the mirror. “You like this?”

“Yeah,” he smirks.

I squat as low as I can. “Phew! This bar sure is heavy,” I lie. It was way back on my first day here, but not anymore. I can squat it easily. “Gosh, I don’t know if I can lift it all the way…” Do I sound like a damsel in distress? I hover near the bottom of my squat, my thighs quivering, my sex clenching. Working out with Apollo ogling me always turns me on. “I might need your…
help
. Do you think you can…
spot
me?”

“Sure,” he smiles and squats behind me. “Do you need me to give you any help to start?”

“Yeah, give it to me good,” I flirt.

“You can do it. You’re only at ten reps. I’ve seen you do twenty easy.”

I bump my butt against his crotch.

He doesn’t seem hard.

What happened to his hard on? I miss it. The last time I felt it was at our first dinner date at ReaXion. Has it been that long? Months? I mutter, “Is something wrong?”

“I’m good. Are you good? Do you need me to take the weight?”

“I need you to take me!” I hiss.

Our eyes meet in the mirror.

He looks surprised.

That’s odd.

“What’s wrong, Apollo?”

He whispers, “There are people around!”

“So? That didn’t stop you the first time.”

“That was different. I didn’t know you then. Now I… I don’t want anyone looking at you. Like that.”

“Like what?”

He continues whispering, “Like all sexy and turned on. Look around! This is a weight room. It’s filled with dudes who are constantly checking out every woman in tight lycra. Including you.”

How does he manage to always make me feel like a super model? He really is perfect.

My thighs are really shaking now. I try to press up to standing, but I can’t. “Help! I can’t lift it!”

He instantly hooks his arms under mine and we stand together. He takes the bar off my shoulders, pressing it over his head and mine like always, and sets it on the rack. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I exhale. “Fine.” I grin at him, “Maybe if you don’t want people looking, you should invite me someplace private instead of yet another restaurant.”

“Okay. How about tonight I cook you dinner at my place?”

I thought he’d never ask.

#b#b#b#

DAPHNE

Keys jingle in the door lock of Apollo’s apartment as he opens it for me. “Inside. Quick. I don’t want to let the cat out.”

I shuffle into the dark apartment. “You have a cat?”

He closes the door behind us and flips on the light in the small but surprisingly clean living room.

“I have to meet your cat,” I grin, looking around the room.

He groans, “Don’t tell me you’re a cat lady.”

“No. Not yet. I was hoping you could save me from that.” I wink back.

“You picked the wrong guy.”

“Why? Because you have cats?”

“Just one. He’ll come out when he’s ready. Have a seat.” He motions toward the black leather couch. It’s very masculine like the rest of his furniture. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Water’s fine.” I don’t think I’ve drunk a single soda since I met Apollo. That’s a record for me.

“That’s my girl.”

While he pours water from a pitcher in the kitchen, I glance around his intimate living room. “You don’t have a TV.”

“Nope.”

“How do you watch movies?”

“On my laptop.”

“But no TV?”

“Nope. I prefer books anyway.” He nods to the right.

I twist behind me and see a bookcase packed full. I stand up and examine the spines. “Shut up! You have every Harry Potter book! And the Chronicles of Narnia! Crime and Punishment?! I haven’t even read that. Sense and Sensibility? Have you read all these or are they just props?”

He chuckles as he hands me a glass of water. “Yeah, I’ve read them.”

“But you… you’re…”

“What?”

“Guys like you don’t read Young Adult novels or classic literature.”

“Really?” he sounds genuinely surprised. “Shit. What was I thinking?” He winks at me. “Drink your ice water. Before your brain melts.”

I take a sip and sit down on the couch. “I absolutely love Harry Potter. What about Lord of the Rings?”

“Didn’t read it but I saw the movies. They got kind of boring by the last Hobbit.”

“You saw the movies?!?! WTF, Apollo! Where have you been all my life?!” I laugh.

“Right here.”

“We could’ve gone to the Hobbit movies together! I went by myself because my friends have kids who are too young.”

“Sorry. Maybe we can go see the next Star Wars together when it comes out. Or see The Force Awakens again. You have seen it, right?”

I stare at him. “Are you real?”

He flicks his big finger against my arm.

“Ow!” I rub it.

“I’m real.”

“That was a rhetorical question.”

“No it wasn’t,” he laughs. “You were really doubting yourself there for a minute.”

That he knows what rhetorical means is the icing on the cake of his perfection. I’m still rubbing my arm, “You have hard fingers.”

“That’s not the only part of me that’s hard,” he grins.

I giggle nervously. We’re all alone in his apartment. This might be the moment I lose my virginity.

“There he is,” Apollo purrs as he reaches over the side of the couch. He picks up the fluffiest golden-eyed brown Maine Coon kitty I’ve ever seen. It starts purring immediately and curls into his arms.

“Oh my gosh! That is the cutest cat ever!”

“Not so loud. He already has a huge ego.”

I grin as I reach out to scratch the cat’s head. It’s eyes close and it nuzzles up against my fingers. I’m good with cats.

Apollo lifts one of its paws and waves it at me. “Say hello to Daphne, Stink Foot.” He says it as if he just called his cat Sweetie or something reasonably normal.

I raise my eyebrows a mile high. “Ummmm… is your cat really named Stink Foot?”

“It was either that or Shit Foot. Or Poop Foot. It took a while to decide. But I think he likes Stink Foot best.”

“And why on earth do you call him that?”

“Because when he uses his box, he steps in his own turds.”

“Don’t you clean his box?”

“Yeah. Every day. Twice a day. But he always manages to step in it. So he’s always tracking it around the apartment and I’m always cleaning it up.”

Either that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard from a man or the most disgusting. I grimace, “How do you possibly put up with that?” I look around the apartment, expecting to see little brown cat paw prints everywhere.

“He only does it once in a while, but after the first time he did it, I dubbed him Stink Foot.” He shrugs, “Love makes you do crazy things.”

“Wait, did you just say you loved your cat?”

He smirks, “It’s not like that makes me gay. It just means I like pussy,” he winks.

“You did not just say
any
of that,” I laugh.

“It’s all true. I’m not gay, not that there’s anything wrong with that, and I like pussy. Both kinds. The smelly kind and the furry kind.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” I plant my fists on my hips and glare at him. “Which kind is the furry kind and which is the smelly kind?”

“That depends.”

“Depends on what?”

He grins, “Depends on what kind you have.”

My eyes pop. “What? Me?”

“Yeah, you. Hairy or shaved?”

“What?! I’m not talking about my kitty cat!”

“Why not? We’re talking about mine.”

“But he’s a cat! Mine is—”

“Hairy.”

“Shut up!” I slap his arm. “Ow!”

“That’s supposed to be my line,” he smirks.

“Are you made of granite?”

“Back to the question. Shaved or hairy?”

“Would you stop asking that?! And stop saying hairy! It’s grossing me out!”

“Furry?”

“That’s worse! It reminds me of those animal costume fetish people! The ones who dress up like animals before having sex!”

“Are you into that?” he asks casually. “It’s okay if you are.”

“No! Are you?!”

“I’m into anything that involves you. The furrier the better.”

“Stop!” I laugh.

“I’ll stop when you answer my question. Furry or shaved?”

“Furry, all right! Now would you stop asking already!!”

“Now we can proceed.”

“What?” I’m completely confused.

“I was going to say, regarding our little pal Stink Foot here—” he lifts the cat’s front paws and the cat just purrs, “—considering you’ve got fur—” he winks at me, “—which I love by the way, and I call my cat Stink Foot, I think it’s pretty obvious.”

I shake my head, “Wait. What was pretty obvious? I’m completely lost.”

“Your pussy is the furry kind I love, and I love my smelly furry cat Stink Foot.” Apollo grins from ear to ear.

I scrutinize his face. “That better all be true. Or not true. Whichever isn’t offensive. Because I can’t figure out which is which.” I shake my head and wrinkle my nose, “You are making me crazy!” I laugh.

He chuckles, “It’s all true. And you’re in good company because I’m crazy too.” He turns to his cat. “Isn’t that right, Stink Foot?”

The cat purrs and tips his head back against Apollo’s chest, causing his little mouth to open and his purr to come out louder.

I wince, “Is his name really Stink Foot?”

“No. When I adopted him, they told me it was Stanley.”

“You adopted Stanley?” I coo.

“Yeah. From the Humane Society. But call him Stink Foot. He likes it better than Stanley.”

I frown, “I don’t see how that’s possible.”