'WHAT IS SHAKING, sweet thing?' Jeffrey leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. His normally cocoa brown lips were a pearlescent pink.
'Are you wearing ... lipstick?' 'Gloss,' he corrected. He straightened his deep mauve pinstriped shirt and shot his cuffs. 'I have to look my best for the bevy of beauties that Marilee promised me.'
I scoped the room. There were an awful lot of pretty, well-dressed, well-groomed men in the room. I was either surrounded by a sea of metrosexuals or Marilee had spiked her post New Year party with some yummy gay men. 'Looks like you've got your pick.' My cell buzzed and I reached into the pocket of my long brown velvet skirt and pressed the button. Fast.
'What's that about? And what is this? This is yummy. You look like someone dipped you in chocolate and you just need a hungry man to lick you clean.' 'You are the dirtiest person ever,' I said, eyeing the readout. 'True. But you know it sounds good.'
I smiled, kissed him again. He smelled like cinnamon and cloves. 'Yes, it does sound good, but I have yet to find even one of these fabulous, fuckable, flirtatious men you told me about last week.'
'Don't worry. There's one here.' Jeffrey poured himself a punch and topped mine off. 'Seriously, girl. Where'd you get the skirt?'
'Used and Abused.'
'Thrift wear!' Jeffrey clutched his broad, hard chest and feigned a swoon.
'Shh!' I grabbed his arm. 'Tell me it is not the most gorgeous velvet skirt ever.'
He fingered my skirt and I blushed. When Jeffrey touched your clothes it was almost like a molestation of fabric. 'It is pretty spanking fine,' he admitted.
My phone buzzed again and I killed it instantly.
'Who is it? Is it that fucktard Darrell?' He frowned and I saw the menace my best friend was capable of. Lip-gloss or not, Jeffrey was six feet, three inches of lean, mean, black man. And he did not like people fucking with his friends. He'd kick your ass, steal your gloss and wear your Jimmy Choos home after the fight.
'No. My mom. Now about that guy. How can you tell he's here? Is it your sixth sense?' I snorted.
Jeffrey is a go-go dancer in an all male review and on the side,
he's a psychic. A very, very fake psychic.
'I can smell him. I don't need a sixth sense. I just need one of the original five. Someone in this room is wearing Drakaar.'
'And?'
'And only a straight boy would do that.'
I rolled my eyes and silenced my phone for the third time. Jeffrey snatched it before I could wrestle it away. 'It's your mom!'
'I know. I just said that! And it's why I am not answering it.'
Marilee was making her way over, her big, fuzzy sweater that sported a penguin hugging a polar bear was probably visible from space. Jeffrey shivered at the sight and I followed suit. 'Eegads.'
'Why? Why is Mom calling? Quick! Before she hits.'
'Hey, y'all. Give me big hugs,' Marilee called, waving madly as if we were at a huge festival instead of in her living room.
'Something with Jack. I don't know. She gets me on and she goes on and on and on but never
tells me what is actually wrong. I am lacking the emotional fortitude to deal with it anymore–'
I got cut off by a fluffy warm woman in a fluffy warm sweater who smelled like eggnog and oddly, Old Spice. 'Oh, my God. You look fab. Have you lost weight?'
'A little,' I admitted, suddenly feeling deflated. I had lost weight. Since Darrell.
'Enough of that, enough,' Jeffrey stepped in, hugging Marilee to him. 'How are you, my ripe little plum?'
Marilee giggled and turned a smashing shade of plum to match her nickname. One of the few women who adored being a bit plump, I said more power to her. And she really was adorable. 'Sorry, Carina,' she mouthed over Jeffrey's shoulder as he squeezed her so hard she turned as red as her festive tablecloth.
I waved her off. Shook my head. 'No worries,' I whispered.
I was lying, but we'd call it a day. I reached for a chip and
aimed for the dip. Where my knuckles banged painfully hard with another, bigger set. 'Damn it all to hell–'
He had grabbed my hand and was wiping dip off with a red paper napkin. 'Sorry about that, I didn't mean to–'
Then he looked at me, I mean really looked at me and he smiled. Really smiled. And I had a hard time swallowing. There was something lodged in my throat; judging by the feel of it, it was my stomach. And it was full of butterflies.
Tall and fair-haired, big brown eyes, just the most fashionable spattering of stubble. He rocked his crisp white shirt, his dark grey trousers, and even the fancy-schmancy black leather loafers. He smiled, showing me white teeth just crooked enough to make the smile adorable.
'I am so ...'
'So?'
I blinked. That little shiver shake in my belly and much lower had not appeared for ages. After
Darrell I never thought it would. I shook my head. He was still holding my hand. 'Sorry?' I asked.
'Don't be. My fault. Ham handed and all.' He wiped my hand again but there was nothing to wipe.
Jeffrey had set Marilee on her plump little feet and was slinking close. I watched him, nervous and on the verge of giggling inappropriately. He leaned in, his big black shaved head coming close to the man's throat, his nose
almost touching and then he snorted in a huge sniff like he was smelling wine at a tasting. His brown eyes found mine and he grinned. 'Drakaar. Told ya,' He laughed.
Still holding my hand, the hunk turned and looked at me quizzically. 'I'm sorry?'
'Oh, child, don't be sorry.' Jeffrey backed up and eyed the cutie's butt. 'Do not be sorry at all.'
I hung my head. What a mess. The phone beeped again and
Jeffrey snatched it away, doing a wild ballet leap through the crowd to keep me from grabbing it back. 'You two get acquainted, I'll talk to Moms!'
I looked at the heart-throb. 'Shit.'
'That's not language befitting a beautiful woman,' the hunk said. In that one sentence I felt mildly scolded and stroked all at once. Instinctively, I wanted to do better.
'I mean, "Hi, I'm Carina".'
'Hi, Carina. I'm Stefan and I
work with Marilee's man, John.'
I nodded, staring at his mouth. It was full and red and when he spoke I got flashes of white teeth and pink tongue and I wondered, for the span of three heartbeats what that mouth would feel like on me. What his fingers would feel like holding my thighs open as he pressed his tongue to my –
'Are you in there, Carina?' Stefan had leaned in so that a bare inch of air separated us. 'Where did you go in your pretty head?'
I sure as hell couldn't tell him
the truth. Right? I shook my head. 'Sorry. I have a tiny bit of stress, I guess I was wool gathering.'
Stefan took my wrist in his hand. A hand so big my arm looked small in his grip. 'I think you went to a very dirty place,' he said, leaning in so that we looked to be talking but his lips pressed to the hair that fell across my ear and cheek.
I had been warm, stuffed in the room with tons of sweater-clad people, but that fast, I had a shiver and I made a small noise I'd never heard come out of me before. 'I ... well, yeah. I did have just a flash of ...'
'Maybe we should go upstairs? I heard that Marilee and John redid the guest room. I did promise to go and spot their handiwork before I left. Would you like a tour?' The way he said tour and then smiled made the skin around his eyes crinkle just enough to make me feel like I was being turned inside out.