“WAIT! WHERE ARE you going?” As soon as the door closed, the CEO withdrew his glorious erection and began stuffing it back into his clothes. “I wasn’t finished.”
He gives me an “are you fucking kidding me” look, to which I lift my brows in an unspoken, “does it look like I’m kidding?” stare in return.
“Gina, I can’t. I’m sorry. I have to get the fuck outta here. This is too weird for me.”
Horny tears well up in my eyes. “Please don’t do this to me.” Goddamn it. Why do I sound so weak and needy? It’s just a dick, Gina. You can find another, like that. I snap my fingers for effect in my subconscious. But I don’t want another, I argue with myself. I want that one.
Jeff’s eyes fall while his lips twist into a smirk. I can’t tell if he feels sorry for me or is trying not to laugh. “Tink,” he croons, walking over to the dryer and slipping my dress over my head. “Why don’t you come with me? Let’s go grab a drink.”
“Look at you, tempting the lush with booze,” I mock pout. “Such a dad move.”
At that he bursts out laughing. “Most dads don’t try bribing their daughters with alcohol, Tink.”
I shrug. “Well, mine would…but I meant you trying to make me all squirrely by dangling a shiny new toy in front of my face.”
He bites down on his lower lip, looking at me with puppy dog eyes. “Is it working?”
Sigh. “Maybe. I’d much prefer the toy you have dangling between your legs, though.” While running my tongue over my lips, I trail my big toe over his crotch.
“Later,” Jeff says, taking my hands into his and pulling me down from the dryer. “I’m having a little performance anxiety.” He reaches into his pocket, pulling out my suit bottom and presses it into my hand. “Get dressed.”
It’s not hard for us to sneak out unnoticed. Everyone is either gathered in the kitchen for food or out back, in and around the pool. After a quick peek down the hall, we walk right through the front door.
“I’ve always loved this place,” I muse aloud, while admiring the cobblestone sidewalks and huge live oaks.
“Yeah?” Jeff asks, placing his hand at my lower back. It’s warm and feels nice. It’s so strange just walking and talking like a normal couple, which we are not.
And never will be, I remind myself.
“Yeah. I always thought I’d end up here someday, living in my princess castle with the man of my dreams, 2.5 kids, and a fluffy little white dog.”
There’s a softness in his features when he responds, “You could still have all of that, Gina.”
Forcing myself to smile, I swallow the lump that’s just formed in my throat. “Nah. It isn’t in the cards for me. But it’s really neat to come back and revisit my little girl dreams, you know?”
“Yeah,” he answers, taking on a faraway look.
“Shit. It’s getting a little too deep for me, CEO. Take me to the booze!”
His head shakes and he huffs out a laugh. “I thought you liked it deep?”
Oh, the old man’s got jokes.
We catch the St. Charles trolley, getting off at Canal. I let Jeffrey lead the way, curious to see where we end up.
“A Court of Two Sisters?”
“Best brunch in the city,” he answers. “Did you want to go someplace else?”
“No. Their mimosas are great.” I don’t tell him that this seems a little too date-ish for two people who are just fucking. This is such foreign territory for me. I don’t date. I’m not used to being out with a guy unless it’s with a group of friends. I’m breaking all of my rules for this man, and I have a sinking feeling that if I’m not careful my heart may get caught up in the crossfire.
We’re seated outside in the famous courtyard, right near the huge fountain. “Did you know they call that the Devil’s Wishing Well?” I ask the CEO when he returns with his plate overflowing with jambalaya, breakfast potatoes, and eggs.
“I did not. Why do they call it that?” Jeff mumbles through a mouth full of food.
“Ever heard of Marie Laveau?”
“Famous voodoo queen, right?”
I nod. “Well, legend has it that she used to practice in this courtyard and that well,” I say, pointing to the fountain with my thumb over my shoulder, “is named in her honor.”
“No shit?” He shovels another bite of sausage into his mouth. “That’s fascinating, Tink. Ever had your cards read?”
“Uh, no. I have no desire to know when I’m gonna die.”
Jeffrey cracks up. “You honestly think they’d tell you that? They want you to come back. It’s all a gimmick. They’re trying to make a believer out of you, not frighten you half to death.”
“Have you had yours read?” I counter.
“Well, no. It all seems silly. Though it’s not too hard to figure out that they tell you what they need to in order to keep people coming back. I mean, almost everyone I know is all amazed that their card reader was able to tell that they’d lost a loved one…who hasn’t. You know?”
He does have a point. “Well, I still have no desire to have someone digging around in my cards.”
“Here you go, ma’am,” Our server, Gaston, walks up behind me, setting a much-needed mimosa on a little cocktail napkin then reaches back to his tray for Jeffrey’s bloody mary. I cringe to myself, never having been able to get on board with drinking vegetables. “And here you are, sir. Vegetable art courtesy of our head bartender, Marty. Sometimes he likes to get fancy.”
Sticking out of his drink is a long, curved green bean with an olive attached to either side, impaled by a toothpick to hold the sculpture together. “It’s a dick!” I shout, unable to stop myself from reaching out and touching it.
“Did you just flick my—” Jeff looks at me incredulously.
“Totally just flicked your bean, CEO.”
He sucks in his lips, shaking his head. “Just keep your mouth away from that shaft. I have plans to drink this thing.”
My cheeks flame. “I was seasick.”
My date eyes me skeptically.
“I’ll have you know my gag reflex is nonexistent, mister. I’m a professional.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“The fucking boat shifted, and your dick was practically in my stomach. I need a chance to redeem myself.”
“Yeah,” he says with an exaggerated dry heave, “not interested.”
By the time I’ve finished stuffing myself on the best primavera pasta and apple cobbler I’ve ever eaten, and sucking down a few cocktails, I’m ready for bed. It’s not even two in the afternoon.
“Mmm,” Jeff moans over a forkful of salad. “Have you tried the balsamic?” he asks after chewing and swallowing. “It’s so good.”
“It’s literally vinegar, Jeff. How good can it be?” And where the hell does he put all this food? He’s got to be on his fourth plate by now.
After the waiter finally brings our check, we make our way out into the bustling streets.
“Where to now, boss man?”
“Lady’s choice.”
All of the dirty places I could take this uptight daddy start rolling through my head. “You sure you wanna hand the reins over to me?”
“Do your worst,” he says, gripping my chin in his forefinger and thumb and placing a chaste kiss on the tip of my nose.
My body goes haywire. How can a simple touch stir up such a frenzy? This is the moment I realize that I’m in big, big trouble with this guy.
