The Science of Loving (28 page)

“A bit of advice, sweetness.” He pulled up to the valet stand in front of Mr. A’s, one of San Diego’s poshest restaurants, “Stay away from poker.”

“Yeah, like I haven’t heard that before,” I replied, my eyes rolling with false bravado.

I slid out, when the valet opened my door, trying unsuccessfully not to flash my garters, my face reddening as he discretely checked me out. But he backed away quickly enough when Mat laid a proprietary hand on my back that branded me all the way up to the penthouse restaurant, and a remarkable view. Beyond the ghostly reflections of the patrons and candles shining off the glass walls, silent city lights spread out, wrapping around the bay to be swallowed up by the distant blackness of the Pacific Ocean.

“Our table’s ready.”

I looked up, feeling his heat, even before he touched my elbow. A slow smile stole into his glittering grey eyes then he quirked an eyebrow—
oh, God, how long had I been staring
—he was always compelling, but tonight he was stepping up his game, and I was hopelessly mesmerized. So I gave myself full marks for remaining upright. The fact that his ready hand was the only thing keeping me from stumbling—again—was irrelevant.

We followed the host who was waiting patiently for me to return from La La Land, to a table tucked into one of the coveted glassy corners looking out over the city and sea. Mat motioned the host aside, and pulled out my chair; waiting until I was settled before sitting next to me. In a blink, there was a flurry of hustling servers filling water glasses, removing empty settings before disappearing just as quickly. One stayed behind, politely describing the night’s specials and seasonal offerings. Then he too, discreetly left.

“Do you know what you want sweetness?” Boy, do I. Unfortunately, that wasn't on the menu. I checked.

“Um… Not really, it all looks good. I think I might leave it in the Chef’s hands.”

“Good idea.”

Our waiter was back as soon as we laid down our menus. “Have you decided?”

“Yes, we’ve decided to put ourselves in the Chef and Sommelier hands.”

“Very good sir, I will let them know. Enjoy.”

Reaching over, Mat stopped my nervous fidgeting a moment too late to save a fork from tumbling off the table—I didn’t want that one any way; I had a bunch more—he kissed my knuckles, his eyes laughing, anticipating my next blunder.

“Sooo… How was your day?” Okay, so it wasn’t the most original icebreaker, but at this point, I considered stringing a whole sentence together a victory.

“Not great, but looking up. We terminated Max’s partnership. He wasn't happy.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m actually relieved. He’s been a major source of stress for some time now.”

“Still, it’s sad when things don’t work out.”

“The thing I dreaded most, was unraveling all the legal stuff. I didn’t realize what a great job Mom did putting our partnership together until it needed to be dissolved. So, Tom and I will continue together, and Max is free do his own thing. What about you, what’s up with those sexy flies?”

“They’re good. Works good. Had a talk with Bob. We’re good.” I smiled. “I think Bob may be crushing on Les.”

“He’s a braver man than I.”

“Come on, you let her polish your noggin.”

“And it hasn’t been the same since.”

Mat leaned back as our glasses were filled with a light white wine, and our conversation was temporarily suspended while the first course was served: Lobster bisque and some kind of salad with beets and feta. Delicious. And so was every course that followed, our wines going darker as the meal progressed—crispy duck, tender, herb-coated lamb, familiar vegetables exotically dressed—everything heavily seasoned with romance and my own addle minded lust.

“Oh, God, I’m stuffed.” I said, finishing the last bite of dessert, an amazing ice cream confection of chocolate, chilies and mangos. “I’m going to pay for that last bite, but it was so worth it.”

“Don’t worry sweetness; I know just how to work it off.” Pulling out his phone, he checked the screen and grinned. “Danny and Brett want us to come play with them at The Waterfront.”

“I guess we could for a little while, but we can’t stay late, I have work tomorrow.” I cringed, knowing I’d just jinxed myself. Now, we’d probably be out until last call.

Inspiration struck on the way to the restroom. After taking care of business, I settled more comfortably on my throne and composed a text.
“Hey evil minion, what’s shaking?”

I was washing my hands when Les replied.
“Nothing much… hands… naughty babies… B.O.B’s rod of purple passion… whoop there it is…”

Not going to ask. Nope don’t wanna know. Shit. I have to, or it’s going to drive me crazy.
“Bob’s rod?!?”

“B.O.B. Battery operated boyfriend. Not that you need one. Bitch… I mean boss.”
Alrighty then.

“We’re meeting Mat’s sister at The Waterfront. You in?”

“Sure. B.O.B.’s purple-p is used to being blown… off that is.”

“Do you want me to invite Bob? The chromatically challenged one, with the beating heart?”

“Why not, maybe I’ll get lucky, and B.O.B.’s always up for a little kink.”

I wasn't so sure about Bob, but I texted him anyway.
“Bob… Angie… meeting up with Les at The Waterfront.”

The Waterfront, situated near Little Italy, about two blocks from the actual waterfront, was billed as San Diego’s oldest bar, but was more accurately, San Diego’s oldest
legitimate
bar. Opening right after prohibition’s repeal, it had bragging rights to the oldest liquor license in town. It was narrow and dark; its walls plastered with historical photos, bar signs and stuffed fish. Think upscale dive filled with a mixture of local color and tourists.

“Yo Biggie!”
Sweet.
Danny and Brett had commandeered one of the few small tables in the always busy bar.

“Hey Inspector Gidget, how was dinner?”

“Oh, my God, better than sex.”

“Hey now.”
Oh, sweetness you're in for it now
.

“Damn Biggie, I guess you’re gonna to have work on your A-game.”

“She hasn’t seen my A-game… yet.”

Angie kept watching the door. “Expecting someone?”

She nodded. “Les and possibly Bob. I texted them before we left Mr. A’s.” Danny and Les in the same room, shit, all we needed was my Mom and we’d have an apocalyptical trifecta.

“Les the Shriveler?” Danny bounced gleefully on her bar stool. “Oh goody!”

Brett and Angie both looked to me for an explanation. “Don’t ask. Guinness babe?”

Angie was waving to someone as I made my way through the crowd, trying not to slop beer on people’s heads—
well fuck me if it wasn’t good old Bob—
he waved before holding up a finger and pointing to the bar.

A surprise slap on my ass almost landed Angie’s beer in her lap. “Hey you, let me polish that knob, shine your chrome, gimme some head, slip me some noggin… You’re noggin believe the day I’ve head…” Les was grinning ear to ear.

“Les, my wonky weirdo, are you quite finished?”

“Yeah, shot my entire load.” Did she realize Bob was standing behind her? “One glimpse of that shining pate and I’m a slave to my impulses.” Her head dropped in mock remorse. “That twelve step program, wasted.” Then her grin returned, filling her face with mischief. “I only blow my wad like that with you. It’s because you’re so special. Well that’s what my exes always told me right before they started to snore.”

She was funny. Returning her grin, I nodded at Bob behind her, then handed her my head, “Yeah, I bet you get that a lot.”

“More often than I’d like,” she muttered, shining my chrome. “Now if I could only see you naked I’d die a happy woman.”

“Yeah, die laughing,” Danny piped in, to which I flipped a response. Who said my vocabulary was limited.

“Hello Dr. Jacobs,” Bob said dryly. I did enjoy watching Les squirm.

“Well hey, look who’s behind me. Dr. Tate, fancy meeting you here.” Her wide smile said she knew he’d been there the whole time.

“Bob, Les… my sister Danny and her dismal paramour Brett. Guys meet Doctors, Bob and Les.”

“Doctor, Doctor.” Danny reached over to shake hands. “You spies like us?”

Bob looked baffled. “Big Chevy Chase fan,” I told him.

“Ah.” He nodded as if that explained everything.

“So Biggie, How’d the big powwow go?”

“Ugly. But we won in the end. Can you believe Max invited Avery to sit in?” I stood in the cramped space behind Angie, hugging her luscious bod. The barstool placed her at the perfect height to rest my chin.

“Why?”

“You know, I asked myself that same thing.”
Shit.

“Came up empty?” She smirked. Brat.

“Yes, it was very Zen.” I returned dryly.

Danny turned to Les. “So you gonna come with Angie when she gets her piercing?”
What the hell?

“Oh, I’m so there. What’re you getting done you masochistic bitch? Maybe I’ll let them do me too. I could seriously use some fierce doing. God, it’s been so long, things are starting to fossilize.”

“This is news to me.” Angie shrugged, before adding. “Last I heard Mat was the one getting poked.”
Oh, she did not just go there.

“Really? Do tell.” Les looked speculative, then brightened. “No wait… An apa? Please, say you’re getting an apa.”

“That was the plan, but the big baby won’t cooperate.” Danny pouted. “Wimp.”

“I don’t know what’s more frightening.” Bob regarded Les. “That I don’t know what an apa is or that you do.”

“Oh Dude.” I shook my head. “Back away from the freak and guard your junk.”

“Keep your whiny-assed opinions to yourself, Lurch.” Danny turned with a feral smile to Bob. “An apa is short for apadravya. Basically it’s a piercing towards the end of the penis, right behind the glands into which a barbell is inserted.”

“Ouch.” Bob winced.

“Exactly,” I said, touching his raised glass with mine. “And you, my exotic flower, don’t let the Spawn-of-Satan pressure you into doing something you don’t want. Your sweet perfection doesn’t need any additional adornment.”

“Very smooth.” Les nodded. “Now let’s get back to your cock.”

“Oh, my God, it’s D.D.’s evil clone. I find your obsession with my genitalia disturbing; first, my nuts, now mini-me.”

“Mini-me?” Angie coughed, no she was laughing. “Wait… Les, is there something wrong with Mat’s nuts?”

“Hey, can you not discuss my junk when I’m standing right here?”
Shit, that came out wrong
. “In fact, my junk should never, ever be a topic of conversation… Ever.”
Better.

“Yeah Les, how would you know the state of Mat’s tiny balls? Oh, that’s right; you work with microscopes… My bad.” Danny was enjoying herself way too much.

“One: My junk’s awesome, thank you. Something, I shall demonstrate privately for Angie’s edification to dispel your vile aspersions; and two: No talking about my junk.”

Les took a breath, holding up a finger. “One: a hard on doesn’t count as personal growth. And, two: this isn’t Fight Club and I’ll talk junk all I want.”

“Nice.” Danny grinned, high-fiving her. They’re bonding. Shit.

Bob listened with morbid fascination, his head swiveling back and forth, while Brett remained strangely quiet, the coward.

“Why, dear sister of mine, are you so interested in modifying my member, when you’re boyfriend has a perfectly fine one to play with?” Shit, apparently, I was suffering from hoof and mouth disease because my foot was spending more time in my mouth than on the floor.

Danny looked at Les, who smirked back, nodding a regal assent. “While it warms my perverted little cockles that I have your approval to play with Brett’s ‘
perfectly fine member.
’” She air quoted. “Regrettably, his member-ship in our armed forces, constrains certain types of member-play and member-modification.”

“Yeah traitor, my dick belongs to Uncle Sugar. Any changes would be considered destruction of government property.”

“You know, fascinating as this banter is. It’s already past my bedtime so I’m going to have to call it a night. I guess I have Dr. Jacobs to blame for the nightmares I’m sure to have.” Bob drawled, looking at Les coolly.

“Cool, he’s dreaming about me.” She sighed as he walked away.

“Les, I always knew you were a closet romantic.” Angie laughed.

“So is it your nipples?” Les was relentless.

“What? No…”

“Well what?”

“I’ve seen her in a bikini.” Danny considered. “I think we should do her bellybutton.”

“Really? All of us?” Les affected fake shock.

“You’re right; she’s not ready for that my licentious new friend. She’s led a sheltered life.” Definitely bonding… Shit.

“So, how does that work?” Angie pulled my arms more tightly around her. “Bellybutton piercing?”

“It’s no big deal, you lay on your back, we clamp a pinch of skin, poke a needle through it then fill the newly made hole with your jewelry. Something simple while it’s healing; you can fancy it up later.”

Angie looked thoughtful. “Does it hurt?”