Vanilla On Top (3 page)

Marcus looks in our direction, his stare a little too assessing for my taste. His knowledgeable gaze meets mine with a slight snigger of humor tilting his mouth. “I…uhh…” A lump forms in my throat as a man walking behind Heather checks out her ass and legs, almost running into someone during his distraction.

I grab her arm and drag her to the stairwell, unwilling to have her ogled by everyone in the lobby while I try to sputter out a coherent thought. “Hey!” she protests. I let go of her arm and turn to her in the empty space, hoping to stem any justified anger before it starts.

She has an expression of shock on her face, but it seems to be more for the spilled coffee on her hand than my impulsive actions of pulling her toward the stairwell.

“Sorry about that.” She whips her hand out to shake off the spilled droplets. Tension leaks out of me now that I’ve found her. What has this woman done to me in so short a time? “I wanted to talk to you…alone.”

She looks around, unafraid and slightly annoyed. “You’ve got it. Now, what do you need?”

Could she not have been thinking about me after last night? Do men pleasure her on patios all the time? A slow burn boils in my gut at the thought of other men touching her like I did. I want more of her, plain and simple, but what if she doesn’t feel the same?

I try and calm my raging heartbeat by taking a deep breath. “I enjoyed last night.”

A smile forms on her oval face, a small dimple appearing in her left cheek. The innocence of the dimple contrasts strongly with the heat I see deep in her eyes. “I did, too.” A pink pointed tongue darts out to wet her lips. “I thought my enjoyment was obvious.”

“I’d like to see you again,” I say, stepping closer and touching a lock of her shiny hair.

She holds her coffee out to the side and moves one step closer, running her free hand down to cup the growing bulge behind my fly. “Would you now?” She gently kneads my expanding flesh. There’s a rush through my veins as all the blood in my body hightails it to my crotch. Damn, she
’
s so freaking hot.

I lean down to kiss her dark red mouth and she tilts away, refusing me.

Perhaps I should have asked. “May I have a kiss, please?”

Her lips touch mine in a gentle brush, more of a tease, and pull away. My prick stands at full mast as she leisurely trails her fingers up and down the length. “That will have to last you ‘til the weekend.”

“The weekend?”

“I’ll call you tomorrow and give you the details.” One last squeeze and she steps back, hunger in her eyes as she checks out my tented pants.

She turns and leaves, the door whisking shut behind her.

Damned if that woman doesn
’
t know how to make an exit.

Chapter Three

Heather

Carla and I meet for an after-work cup of coffee—decaf for me this late in the day. I finish relaying my previous night’s antics with Tony while she listens with slack-jawed amazement.

“I’m not so sure about this, Heather.” Carla pushes away her empty coffee mug, a doubtful expression on her face. “It sounds like the patio escapade was sexy as hell, but what if he didn’t go for it?” I look away, unable to voice what I’m feeling inside at her lack of support. “He could have laughed at you and walked out…or maybe he’s some pervert and public sex is his thing.”

The noises of the crowded café hum in the background, distracting me from the stab I feel at her comments. I stare out the window at the growing darkness and search for a way to reply. How can I explain the power I experienced in those stolen moments behind the bistro? The look of sheer desire on Tony’s face was all the encouragement I needed to keep going.

I stifle a sigh and return my attention to my lusty-looking friend. I doubt Carla’s ever been told she was a cold and distant lover.

Still, her words don’t sit right with me, even if she didn’t intend to be hurtful. I screw up my courage, channeling a little of the woman I pretended to be last night—and this afternoon. “Don’t you think saying he’d laugh at me is a little harsh?”

Carla has the grace to blush as she realizes what she said. “I’m sorry, hon.” She reaches across the table and grabs my hand. “I just don’t want to see you hurt again.”

“Being my normal self hasn’t won me any proposals.” My lonely apartment and dying plants seem to mock me whenever I step across the threshold alone…again. “You’re the one who convinced me to go.” I stare into my best friend’s eyes. “Did you only want me there to make you look better?”

A startled gasp spills from Carla. “Seriously? What kind of friend would that make me? A pretty bad one, if you ask me.”

I shrug and look away, pulling my hand out of hers. “You’re not too supportive of me right now. And aren’t you the one who suggested I try something new for a change?”

“You’re right.” She sighs deeply and slumps in her chair. “I certainly have no room to talk when you actually do it. I’m worried about you. Ordering a guy around isn’t like you…at all. And let’s face it—you don’t know anything about this man.”

“When do we really know any guy?”

Carla shrugs, looking uncomfortable with my antagonistic question.

Carla glances at her watch. The time for her exercise class must be getting close. She fidgets in her chair, looking unsure at the silence. A part of me wants to let her sit and stew. So, I do.

Instead of jumping in to placate her feelings, I focus once more on the absolute rush that coursed through me last night against the damp brick. When I awoke today, I was able to ignore past fears and relive only the pleasure—the thrill of having a gorgeous man focused on
my
needs for a change. Reluctant to have the fantasy end, I laid in bed and relived the experience all over again, touching myself like Tony had the night before.

Getting dressed this morning, I felt like a new person. Perhaps starting the day with a massive orgasm helped. I picked my shortest skirt and even put on the red lipstick I bought for New Year’s two years ago. That night Rick hooked up with another woman on the dance floor, right in front of me. Arrogant prick. A month later, I heard he’d caught something from her. Serves him right. I bet Rick wouldn’t have done that to the
new
Heather of last night.

No sirree. Tony listened to
her
. I coasted on the satisfied air of our risqué encounter all the way to work. The reality of my life closed in when I stepped through the advertising firm’s doors and had to deal with my job. But for a little while, I felt like a woman in charge of her sexuality. And damned if I didn’t enjoy it.

Carla starts to gather her things like she’s about to leave. I was silent for too long in my own thoughts, but I haven’t told her everything about Tony yet. “I saw him again, earlier today.”

“What?!?” She flounces back in her seat, an eager look on her face. “How could you leave that part out? Dish, girlfriend. Did you call him right away or what?”

I smile at her enthusiasm, thrilled we’re on better ground again. “I ran into him, of all places, in the lobby of my building. Can you believe it? We may have been working a few dozen floors apart for years and never knew it.”

“Well, it is a damn big building with thousands of people coming and going each day.” She leans onto the table with her elbows, clearly hoping to hear more. “Did he spot you first? What did he say?”

“He stepped in front of me after I bought my afternoon latte.”

“Uh-huh, and?”

“He seemed nervous. Nothing like he was when he sat down at the bistro to meet me.”

Carla laughs loudly, drawing attention to us, and reaches for my arm. “I bet not! Certainly not after you ordered him to eat you out and then walked away, leaving him hanging!”

Several male heads turn our way. “Shh…” Warmth heats my cheeks and I resist the urge to fan myself. “What are you trying to do? Broadcast my exploits to the whole coffee shop?” My God, maybe I
’
ll think twice about telling her stuff next time, assuming there is a next time.

My friend sobers, instantly contrite. “I’m sorry, Heather. I got carried away. Lord knows I’ve never done anything so exciting.”

A surge of pride sings through me. If my parents were alive I’m sure neither of them would be patting me on the back for my behavior last night, but getting even a modicum of approval from Carla works wonders for my self-esteem.

I sit a little straighter and notice a man glancing at us over his iPad. I smile at him, embracing a boldness I’ve never had. He returns my smile and I feel a glow inside me at the attention. He could have overheard Carla and thinks I’m a bit of a slut, but I’m going to choose to ignore that possibility and bask in the simple joy of his response.

I relay the rest of our chance meeting, finishing with telling her about how I cupped his balls through his pants and then tossed out my invitation for the weekend.

“Wow! I’m not sure what to say. Normally, I’d be the one giving wild sexual advice, but you don’t seem to need it. Where has all this come from, Heather?”

I open my mouth to answer but nothing comes out. Do I tell her about the erotic novels I’ve been reading the past few months? We share everything, but she’s never been much of a reader and I didn’t think she’d share my new racy tastes. “I… uhh…”

“It sure as hell can’t be from your last lover, that two-timing prick, Jimmy.”

I shudder as the whoremonger with the predilection for hitting on anyone with a vagina under the age of fifty pops to mind. “No, Jimmy didn’t teach me much—except how to cry.”

Carla’s face crumbles. “Oh, geez. I’m sorry for bringing up that rat bastard’s name.”

I pat her hand to reassure her. “No big deal. I’ve certainly picked more than my share of jerks the past six years.” Carla and I met in the advertising firm when we were both fresh out of college. She was a natural in sales and went on to head her own accounts at a smaller firm while I stayed with the same company, slowly working my way through the ranks to my current position as assistant to the CFO.

My old friend wiggles her eyebrows, possibly looking to change the topic. “So, what do you plan on doing this weekend with Tony? You gonna go out and buy a bunch of sado-masochistic toys and do up your spare bedroom like some freaky-ass
Fifty Shades of Grey
scenario?”

“No!” Horror wizzes through me at the mention of the popular book. “I’m willing to try some new stuff and step out of my comfort zone, not take on a whole new lifestyle.”

“I dunno, this high-powered corporate guy might be into all that whips and chains shit.”

I doubt Carla has read the book, and neither have I, so I refrain from commenting any more. “There’s got to be a middle ground.” I reach around in my mind and debate explaining some of the passionate scenes I’ve read and have dreamt of trying with someone I trust.

Carla still doesn’t look convinced. She glances at her watch. “Sorry, but this time I really do need to jet. I’m going to be late for my spin class if I don’t hurry.”

I nod and rise to give her a hug goodbye. She flounces toward the door with her normal effervescence, attracting attention from men as her golden head weaves through the tables.

In a moment I’m alone, staring into my cold coffee. How far am I willing to take this game with Tony? His nervous reaction today was a complete surprise. It enabled me to slip into the act much more easily than the night before.

Telling him I planned to call him tomorrow puts me in a new quandary. What the hell am I going to do with him this weekend? Is this all about sex and me fulfilling some fantasy he might be having? Or do I invite him on a normal date?

Gathering my belongings, I decide to walk the five blocks home. Maybe inspiration will hit me on the city streets. The smiling man with the iPad glances up as I pass. He’s in his mid-thirties and quite handsome. He raises his cup and tips his head to me before allowing his eyes to travel down my figure, lingering on my exposed legs. His bold stare swells my chest with confidence.

Could he really have heard the part Carla said so loudly about the patio? I hold my head up and decide I don’t care. I arrange my features in a pleasant expression, giving him no invitation to go further and keep moving toward the door, emboldened by the attention.

The elation lasts a few blocks and I pause outside a small bodega, eyeing a grouping of fresh strawberries. In a book I read last month, there was an intimate picnic for two where they fed one another and then boinked like rabbits on the checkered blanket. Hmm
…
I could do a bunch of finger foods in my living room and we could see where it leads.

Do I want to have sex with him this weekend? I cross the suggestion off my mental list of possible developments. It
’
s too soon.

A chill of hesitation wraps around my heart. If I perform any scenario as myself, he might not be interested. What better place to dress up and try slipping on a new skin than in the privacy of my own home? That way, if I mess up no one will witness my humiliation except me.

Well, me and the man I
’
m with. But who am I to kid myself? I have no doubt he
’
s in this for the sexual thrill. Not because he wants me for me. Heck, how could it be for anything else when we don
’
t even know each other? If he doesn
’
t like what I try and he leaves then I
’
ll know this whole idea is a wash. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

I fill a basket with fruits and vegetables, a clear plan forming in my mind of what I can prepare to serve him. And maybe
,
if I steer the night exactly like I want, I might be able to pull it off. There’s one more store I want to hit and then I’ll be ready for Saturday.

It’s Friday, minutes before five o’clock. I’ve let him stew long enough. If he’s like anyone I’ve known who was even remotely interested in a person, he’ll be thinking I changed my mind by now. I practiced what I’d say over and over until I had the tone and inflection exactly as I want. After two sessions of deep breathing into a paper bag, I’m calm enough to call.

I shut the office door, grabbing my cell phone off the corner of the desk on my way. I settle deep into the leather chair and take a huge lungful of air. I can do this. I dial his number and hit send, mentally shoving the butterflies in my stomach to my lower intestines.

Tony answers the phone on the second ring, his greeting distracted and preoccupied.

“Have I called at a bad time?” I ask, my voice as deep and sexy as I can manage and still sound like myself.

“Heather? Is that you?”

Elation at hearing his voice zings through me. I hear a shift across the line, like he’s either shuffling the phone or moving to another room. “Yes, it’s me. Were you worried I wouldn’t call?”

“If you want the truth, yeah. I wondered if you were going to blow me off.”

I laugh, the practiced sultry sound riding the airwaves between us. “Not anytime soon—and only if you’re
very
lucky.”

He pauses a moment. Perhaps my double entendre has thrown him off balance. Good. That
’
s what I hoped for.

“We closed a huge deal this afternoon.” His tone sounds more confident now. “I feel like celebrating. Would you like to meet for drinks or dinner tonight? Maybe where we met?”

My heart skips a beat. He’s been thinking about me more than I thought if he’s that eager to get together—and suggesting the same place we met. Who knew being an emotionally unavailable bitch would be such an aphrodisiac for some men?

“I’m busy tonight,” the lie trips easily from my lips.

“Oh, okay. I’d like to take you to dinner tomorrow night then. Your choice, anywhere you’d like.”

“No,” I say.

“No? But I thought you said…”

I cut him off, eager to put the conversation back in my playing field. “I’d like you to come to my place. I want to cook for you.”

“Really? Wow, okay. That sounds great.”

I give him the time and my address. “Come casual, but be prepared—you will not be getting lucky, nor spending the night.”

“What?”

“It’s never polite to assume.” I grin, pleased with how I handled the call. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Saturday evening arrives sooner than I expected. I spent the entire day cleaning my small apartment, preparing food, and physically primping for the night. I may have said he wouldn’t be getting lucky, but I shaved the lower half of my body and lotioned every inch of skin in preparation for the activities I hope will come to fruition. It’s a good thing the walls are thick, or the neighbors might have wondered who I was having a one-sided conversation with all damn day while I practiced my lines.

I fuss over everything one last time, examining the arranged trays, the wine, and the inviting room with its subdued lighting, soft music, and comfy floor pillows. It’s not lost on me that I’ve unconsciously made a picnic in my living room. That steamy scene stuck with me more than I thought. Well, it will either work, or it won
’
t.