9781618857569GettingitAllStorm (17 page)

She shifted in her seat and started on the second glass of wine,
feeling like a traitor, or at least a disloyal buddy, but at least they were
all pretty much on the same footing now.
More or less.

“Has any of that changed? That you want him and that you want us to
fight for him?” She was tired of waiting for Christy’s next pronouncement.

“That’s past history.” Christy waved an airy hand.
“Can’t
change that.
What is new is that you have entered the game, Ms Dorothy
with your click-worthy red slippers and quite frankly I didn’t think you would…
could…
had the guts to. No offence, sweetie.”

“You and Matt had a date?” Lucy looked from Christy to Dorothy and
back again, trying to keep up. “That’s great.”

“Not exactly.”
Dorothy felt the heat begin to rise. She was
already moist at the first mention of his name. Now her breasts and earlobes
began to catch up. “But we are…on better terms.”

“The word from the beauty parlor security cameras is that he came to
see you. He looked you up. And you two had a very private conversation out
back, from which you came away seeming very satisfied. A picture being worth a
thousand words, which you have chosen not to share with us, the evidence is
that you two are definitely on better terms. So I figure when you do start
dating in earnest you’re going to try for even better terms.”

She didn’t know, Dorothy’s rattled mind thought.
Christy did not know she and Matt had already had…relations.
Sex.
Glorious mind-blowing three orgasm
sex out behind the vans.
Up against the metal, Hot
Dot.
How tacky. How…mind-blowing.

As if an epiphany, suddenly for the first time in their lives Dorothy
felt out in front of Christy. She knew it was more than likely the beautiful
white-blonde cougar would leave her in the dust eventually, but since time
before Beau, for the first time in years, she felt she might be, if not exactly
master of her fate, at least she might have a hand in deciding it.

“So now I’m beginning to feel my buddies-in-bedding-Matt
aren’t
being straight with me.” Christy’s voice took on a
sharp edge.

“What do you mean?” Dorothy didn’t like the hard look. She glanced at
Lucy who was also suddenly quiet and on alert.

“Champagne for you ladies.”
One of the attractive wine stewards appeared
with a bottle, cradling it in its linen napkin as if it were a precious gift.
“From the gentlemen at the bar.”

Christy didn’t like having her dramatic announcement interrupted,
Dorothy noted gratefully, but once she had quickly swung her glorious
white-blond crowing glory around to check out the guys, instantly became her
old self.

“Isn’t that sweet,” she cooed, inspecting the label. “That’s a great
year, but I’m so so sorry we have to decline.” The young man looked slightly
flustered. “No. Let me.” She gestured toward the grinning, nicely suited guys
at the bar, waggling her finger. “Naughty. Naughty.”
Then
curled the elegant digit to beckon them.
The two men bolted toward their
banquette.

“Christy, what are you doing?” Dorothy gasped.

“Oh, my.
They are really good-looking,” Lucy beamed at the new adventure
presenting itself.

“You gentlemen are the greatest,” Christy began her apology as the two
sleek, young businessmen approached. “Move over ladies and give the
guys
room. But we were just getting ready to leave and we
couldn’t possibly turn down such a lovely gesture without at least saying,
‘hi.’ I’m Christy.” She offered an elegant hand.

Whatever frost might have dropped over their table at Christy’s prior
accusation was instantly replaced by the heat she generated when faced with the
possibility of new conquests.

The men were Darren and Brad, financial buddies all the way up from
Wall Street out for the evening, who insisted on the steward opening the bottle
for a quick farewell taste for the ladies. They wanted to try the label
themselves and would sadly finish it alone but wanted to be sure they were able
to toast one of the most beautiful
table
of women they
had the pleasure to come across in a long side career of wine bar hopping.

Christy was in her element, glowing and radiant. Lucy was adorable,
streaked locks bouncing and eyes sparkling with excitement. Dorothy felt as if
her sentence had been reprieved.

“C’mon guys,” Christy eyed the men slyly as the three women prepared
to leave. “There are two of you and three of us. How did you plan to do the
math?”

Brad was the big, square-jawed secure one. “There’s no math to do.
It’s done.” He indicated his grinning partner, “the D-man and I would be more
than happy to see to it that all three of you beautiful ladies had an excellent
time.”

Dorothy drew a sharp intake of breath. Lucy’s eyes grew bigger and her
pretty little mouth dropped open. Christy sighed contentedly.

“My, all five of us, together
,
enjoying ourselves. And that wouldn’t be a problem? That does sound like an
exciting evening. I’m so sorry we have another engagement. If you ever plan to
be in the area, do give a call.” She produced a card. “Perhaps we would be
available. We would love to help you check out new labels…and vintages.” She
did the elegant fingers through the glorious mane as a farewell enticement.

It worked. The guys were all over them beaming and complimenting as
they bade farewell to the charming candle-lit atmosphere, Christy taking a
moment to drop an extra bill on their steward.

“Who would have thought,” she wondered quietly as they paused together
outside before dispersing to their various cars, “such a nice little place is
also a high-class pick-up joint. I must not have been paying attention last
time I was here.”

“Probably paying too much attention to the wine guys,” Lucy offered
seriously. “If they see you’re interested in somebody else, sometimes guys
won’t even make an effort.”

Christy bent to kiss the young woman on the cheek. “You’re absolutely
right. I’ll be much more aware of what’s going on next time.” She threw Dorothy
a very direct look. “Thanks for the advice, Lucy. Okay, I’ll see you guys at
the apartment. Everybody knows where they’re going, right?”

Dorothy knew the way to Christy’s apartment. She wasn’t at all sure
she knew where she was being led though.

Not too many minutes later, she and Lucy were obediently following the
running instructions of their hostess, setting the dining room table, tearing
up various lettuces for the salad, pulling out “the good stuff” and bringing
their plates filled with chicken a la something to do with mushrooms and white
wine to their respective places.

With her guests settled, Christy lit the candles and poured them all a
glass of champagne.

“We could have taken the champagne those guys from New York offered us
and just scooted,” Lucy giggled. “Oh, this is good.”

“Then they would have known not to mess with us big-boned country
girls. Is that what you’re saying, Lucy? This is delicious, Christy, and this
chicken looks and smells wonderful. Somehow I don’t think of you as the
domestic type.”

“Well, Dot, whatever
do
you think of me as?”
She stuck out her glass for a toast. “Cheers to the terrible threes.”

Dorothy had walked right into it. It took her a moment before she
could sip.

“Never mind.”
Christy took up her knife and fork. “Eat
first, confess later, or is it the other way ‘round? I think of all those poor
wives of Henry VIII and the protocol of chopping their heads off. Which came
first, the chicken or the ax?”

Dorothy chuckled. Maybe if she could get drunk fast enough the evening
wouldn’t turn out so badly. “This chicken is delicious, Christy. At least for
us we know which is coming first.”

“I love that series,” Lucy dug into her food. “The clothes are so
unbelievable and the people are so beautiful. I bought the set. I watch it
whenever I’m feeling kind of, you know, drab.” She gave her head of streaked
auburn waves a slight shake. “But I haven’t been feeling that way much, lately.
I wanted to thank you both.”

“Oh?” Christy cut a small piece of sauce-covered fowl and lifted it to
her mouth. She ate in the European fashion keeping her fork in her left hand.
No excess motions, Dorothy thought, switching her utensils. Conserve your
energy for the important stuff.

“I know you and Matt are like dating all the time, and I’ve only had a
couple with him, but if it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t have had those dates
at all. They’re something I’ll always treasure.” Lucy sniffled.
“Oh, dear.
I guess I shouldn’t have brought that up while we
were eating.”

Christy reached over to touch the arm of the young woman dabbing her
face with her napkin and gave Dorothy a look to indicate she should do the
same.

“We both have a lot to be grateful for as far as Christy is
concerned,” Dorothy said, wondering at this point whose side she was supposed
to be on. “I suppose now is as good a time as any to toast that gratefulness,
instead of waiting until we’re all soused at the end of the meal.” When they
might all
be
at each other’s throats. “At least, this
way I’ll know I meant it, rather than wondering later if I was just too drunk
to know better.” She
grinned
broad, fake.

Lucy wasn’t listening. She was, what, five, ten miles away in Matt’s
bed, getting her one and only shot at pure joy, Dorothy surmised. Or had she
been taken behind some barn someplace too?
Maybe in the
backseat at the overlook.

Christy, on the other hand, knew exactly what Dorothy was talking
about.

“Well, before any of us do any major confessing to something the
others might not even care about,” She continued to eat and drink heartily.
“I’d like to do a little confessing, myself. And since I’m the hostess with the
mostest
, I’ll go first.”

Lucy got up to find a tissue to blow her nose and returned to the
table. “Confess?
About what?”

“Well, maybe confession isn’t the word,” Christy paused in demolishing
her meal and sat back to inspect the bubbles in her champagne flute.
“More a new attitude about our little fun and games with the
loveable Matt Bartholomew.

“I was beginning to have doubts about how I was feeling about the
whole thing which is why I called us all together tonight in the first place.
To sort of clear the air.”

Dorothy and Lucy continued quietly eating.
Waiting.

“The nice, hunky, financial gentlemen from New
York in the wine place, sort of helped settle everything into its proper
perspective.”
She
took up her fork and knife again.

“I would miss that opportunity.
Making out with
fresh meat on a regular basis.”
She waved a forkful of chicken. “As you
see,
sur
cette
table is not
where I get my meat. And, tonight’s French cuisine notwithstanding, I am a meat
and potatoes girl…
dans
ma boudoir.”

Lucy giggled. Suddenly she sat up straight, concerned. “What are you
saying, Christy? I got the French part. What’s the English part?”

“She’s saying she wants to have Matt and eat her Frenchmen too,”
Dorothy said, warily. Something was not quite translating.

“No, no, no, no,
mes
cheries
.” Their hostess swirled her champagne and
finished off the flute. “Well, at least half ‘no, no.’
You
got the ‘eating her Frenchmen’ part.” She took a moment, and then announced,
“I’m thinking of conceding and turning our local hunky lad over to you two to
battle over.”

Dorothy and Lucy both stared at Christy and then at each other.

“But that’s…?”

“How can you…?”

“Why?” they asked together.

“Because he is easily replaceable.”
She waved an elegant hand. “Okay, not
‘easily.’ No one like Matt is easily replaceable, but it dawned on me, because
of a little chat Dorothy and I had recently, what you two want from Matt is not
what I want. I’m getting what I want.” She shrugged. “And I don’t necessarily
want more.”

“What little chat?”

“Dorothy and I have been friends for a long time, Lucy. She felt you
were beginning to get the upper hand with Matt, and rather than letting me
discover this for myself and lose our little wager, she wanted to apprise me of
how things stood.”

Lucy was stricken. She had been ganged up on by friends she trusted.
Dorothy felt a sinking in her gut that did not help the chicken a la whatever.
“Lucy, I…”

The young woman buried her face in her hands. “I just had one real
date with him.” Her tiny despairing voice cut through Dorothy like a kitchen
knife…badly wielded.

“Sweetie, sweetie.
I never meant—” But she had. She had meant
for Christy to rev up her making out with Matt and completely cut out her young
friend and Christy had certainly done her part. What she didn’t expect was for Matt
to get all upset. But if he hadn’t, he might not have broken through
Dot’s…whatever it was that was holding her back from fighting her own fight for
his attention. He certainly had her attention now.