Ditching The Dream (Dream Series) (14 page)

“He’s a jackass. End of story. What would bring that up?”

“But what did he do to Jenny that had you guys calling him a jackass?” I pushed.

“Ugh. He was dating Jenny, but at a party just before our senior year he made a pass at me. I turned him down, of course. But I’d been drinking at that stupid party and let my guard down, and I told him that I wanted to date Jenny, not him. So he suggested a threesome with Jenny. Not to mention other kinky shit he was always trying to convince Jenny to try. An all-around asshole. Why do you need to know this?”

“Well, I kinda ran into him here in New York.”

“You’re in New York? And where would you come across Jackass Jack? Under a bridge? A worn out druggie when his fifteen seconds of fame faded?”

“Not exactly.”

“Whatever, kiddo. He’s not worth the space he occupies. Go back home to Greg. You’re making a huge mistake. Greg might not be much in the personality department, but that man would walk on broken glass for you,
unlike some people
,” that last part wasn’t really spoken to me. I assumed that was for Cassie. “Look, I have to go. Call Mom, tell her we talked. Please. I need the southern bitch off my back. And tell her you’re going back home. Then – go back home.”

“Suze, you don’t –” And then the line was quite. She hung up on me. I couldn’t believe it – well, yes I could. She never did give me the time of day. As far as big sisters went, she was a dude – I mean dud.

I shoved my phone back into my purse and thought about what I’d just learned. So, Jack was a typical horn-dog kid in high school, and thought it would be cool to have a threesome. Was that such an awful thing? I mean, not that it was something I would participate in, but most guys had that fantasy, right? For all I knew, Greg might have done that back in his glory days. And it dawned on me. Greg and I never really did talk about his partners before us, other than he’d always worn protection. And his comment last night came rushing back to me.
“Before we met, I had been with several girls, and women. In high school and college.”

But then again, the thought of Greg with any other woman was nearly laughable, let alone two women. I mean, he was good looking, but he never gave me the impression that he was a player. And the more I tried to get the thought out of my head, the crazier the scenarios popped into mind, until I lost my battle with the giggles and let them roar as Anand stopped the car in front of my building.

Safely in my apartment, I poured myself a serving of my Macallan 12, my mind still whirling from Jack’s hallway. As the delicious Scotch hit my tongue, I wondered what it would taste like on Jack. His lips, his tongue. His skill that weakened every fiber of my decency. Greg had never made me feel like that, not that I could remember anyway.

Letting the Scotch run through my body, I felt myself start to relax a little. And I considered Greg’s proposition. Should I? Could I? Was Jess right? Was it really cheating if my husband told me to do it? Maybe I could learn a thing or two, I mused. Jack certainly did things I’d never experienced with Greg, and we hadn’t even started to scratch that itch.

I finished my Scotch and headed into the bathroom. I dialed up the shower and while the water warmed, I stripped down, tossing my steak scented clothes into the full hamper, making a mental note to do my laundry tomorrow. I caught my reflection in the mirror and paused to see what Jack had seen.

For an almost forty-three year old woman, I wasn’t half bad. Jessica and I had joined the gym to occupy our days once our youngest had left for college. We had a blast in the kick-boxing and yoga classes, and spent several hours a week at the gym on the treadmills and nautilus equipment. I hadn’t noticed how all the exercise had paid off until just now.

My body was not skinny, but toned. My breasts were not too big, nor too small, but a generous C. Scrutinizing my body, I recalled Jack’s hungry gaze as his eyes raked over it only an hour ago. And how his eyes
felt
on my body. It felt intense. It felt sexy. It felt right.

I stepped into the shower to try and clear my head. I quickly washed and conditioned my hair, letting the rosemary mint scent soothe and relax me. The soap on my hands loosened my rings causing them to slip off my fingers. Perhaps I’d lost weight this past week? I set my rings on the small soap shelf, and filled the palm of my hand with peach body wash, and started to lather my arms then moved to my breasts.

Images of Jack’s hands and mouth on me consumed my mind, and my hands went to work mimicking Jack’s. I savored the memory, massaging them and tugging at my erect nipples. I moaned involuntarily, wishing that we hadn’t been interrupted… wondering how far things would have gone.

Surprising myself, one hand snaked down my lathered and slippery body to between my legs. I gasped as my fingers brushed over my clit.
What would Jack’s hands feel like down here?
I wondered. I’d never really been one to indulge in masturbation, but then again, I don’t think I’d ever felt so aroused by another man. Greg made me feel safe,
not
like this.

My slippery, soapy hands continued their assault with a mind of their own. Faster and harder they worked, my mind flashing with images of Jack’s eyes, his smile, his chest, his V and curious of all that lay below. Climaxing, my moans echoed off the tile wall and were swallowed by the falling water.

Feeling weak in the knees, I leaned against the tile wall, the cold tiles on my back, doing little to cool the inner fire that continued to rage, and bringing another sensation to my body that was still hungry. I knew that what I was needing was a man. My fingers wouldn’t be enough.

After I dried off, and dressed for bed, I brushed my teeth and climbed into bed. Exhausted from a very busy Monday, and the calm that I didn’t have to work the next day worked together, helping me drift off to sleep.

I
woke up the next morning around nine, but wasn’t very rested. I’d not slept well with images of Jack’s smile and eyes dancing in my mind. I also wrestled with my conscience over what had transpired at Jack’s place last night. I had to do whatever it took to resist Jack the next time we were together.

I also felt guilty that I’d not worked out in the past week. Recalling the conversation Tom and I’d had the night before about gyms in the city, I opted to go for a run in Central Park to clear my mind. Downing my coffee, then eating a quick yogurt and toast for breakfast, I cleaned up, slipped on some running clothes and headed out.

At the elevator bay, I pressed the button and started to stretch for my run, twisting and bending. To my horror, a slow cat call whistled behind me. I quickly stood up, making me slightly dizzy and I wobbled almost falling over, but fell into strong arms instead.

I looked up into Mr. Country Western’s clear green eyes and was enveloped in the gorgeous scent of
man.
And here I had been shoving my derrière up into the air.

“I’ve gotcha,” he sang.

“S-sorry. Thanks,” I stammered as he stood me back on my feet, holding on as I regained my balance, and then his hands rested on my waist just a bit longer than was probably necessary. I felt myself flush in a way that was completely inappropriate, but his hands were so – strong. And his smile was so – bright. And his –
Stop it, Elizabeth!
I scolded myself.
Enough thinking about other guys! Greg isn’t right!

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” I choked out as the elevator bell sounded. He gestured for me to step into where we first met the other night. My eye was drawn to his arm. He was wearing a long sleeved T-shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. On his left arm I could see tattoos peeking out under the cuff.

Briefly I considered taking the stairs, and decided that would be rude, so I stepped in, with Mr. Country Western stepping in right behind me. Suddenly my mind was flooded with elevator scenes in the popular mommy porn we’d been reading in book club. Christian Grey and Gideon Cross and Jesse Ward with their sultry elevator manners… Mr. Country Western reached over and pressed the Lobby button, giving me a nice whiff. He smelled amazing. Lavender, juniper, ginseng, cardamom, and sandalwood.
Have mercy.
I’d have to figure out what cologne that was.

“Sure you’re okay?” he asked with a tone of genuine concern.

“I’m sure, thank you.”
Get a grip, Elizabeth!
Oh, but that hair, and that smile… those eyes… And he smells so good. I mean, he was clearly younger than me but…

“Lizzie – I mean, Elizabeth, right?” he asked, interrupting my thoughts.

“Um, yes. Good memory.”

“Necessary skill in my line of work. You call a seventh grader by the wrong name and it can ruin their whole day.”

“Don’t I know it,” I replied, recalling the many days with Phoebe when even a compliment would send her spiraling into an emotional tornado. “I’m sorry, I can’t remember your name.”

“No trouble. It was pretty late the other day. It’s Kevin. Kevin Parker.” He stuck out his hand which I shook.

“Nice to meet you, again, Kevin.”

“So, you headed for a run?” he asked, looking me up and down. Suddenly I wished I’d grabbed a T-shirt instead of the tight spandex tank top I’d chosen.

“Um, yeah, was going to run the path in Central Park. A co-worker recommended it.”

“Great path,” he replied and the doors opened into the lobby. I almost started running right there, and not sure if it was toward him, or from him. Why was I so nervous around this guy?

“Well, see ya,” I said as we exited the door that Dominic was holding for us. I turned left, Kevin turned right.

“Um, you said Central Park, right?” Kevin called out a moment later.

I turned to see him standing by the front doors, smiling curiously. “Yup. Take care,” I smiled, waved, and kept going.

“Well, you’re going the wrong way.”

“Oh.”
Shit!
“Right. Thanks.”

I turned and started in the direction he was indicating. He started walking along with me. “I don’t want to inconvenience you. Thanks for getting me turned around.”

“No inconvenience what-so-ever. I was actually heading over in that general direction.”

“Small world,” I said sarcastically. “So, you’re a teacher? Don’t you have to teach today?”

He shook his head and that toe-tingling smile spread across his face. “Spring break.”

I nodded my understanding. “What do you teach?” I asked, feeling the need to keep the awkward silence away.

“Middle school Spanish.”

“Ah, si.”

“
¿Hablas español?
”

“Um, sorry, ‘si’ is the extent of my Spanish knowledge. French student here.”

“I’ll forgive you. Or teach ya,” he joked, raising one seductive eyebrow.

As we walked, I watched his easy gait. He was very comfortable with who he was. A subtle confidence, not cocky like Jack. Crossing Third Avenue, he’d gotten ahead of me a few paces to help a woman with a stroller (his southern manners have no bounds!) which gave me a remarkable view of his backside. His broad shoulders, trim waist, tight buns. He obviously worked out. I found myself wondering what he looked like under that shirt and those cargo shorts. How much ‘cargo’ did he have?
Stop it!
I told myself.

“So, where in the south are you from?” I blurted, pulling my mind out of the gutter.

“San Antonio.”

“Your family still there?”

“Yes’m. My mom’s a dentist and my dad teaches at the business school.”

A dentist,
I thought. That explains the teeth.

“My mother is from Guadalajara and my dad’s family is from England. My dad was a teaching assistant at the University of San Antonio in my mother’s accounting class. I have a brother who teaches biology and sister who is an artist. They both are still in the south, my brother in Dallas, my sister in Tennessee. I get a lot of ribbin’ for bein’ up here in New York.” God his drawl was sexy. “And what’s the story of Elizabeth?”

Yes, exactly. What was my story?
I’ve run away from my husband?
Instead, I opted for, “I’m from Napa.”

“Beautiful country out there. And you choose to come to gritty New York? Can’t imagine making that choice. Are you here for work, then? A steakhouse, right?”
Damn, he remembers everything!

“Yup.” If I only answered the last question that would be enough, right?

“How long have you been in town?”

“One week yesterday,” I replied with a cheery lilt. I was really proud of how far I’d come in such a short time. Gotten a job, after not having a ‘real’ job after more than twenty years, and renting an apartment. I was really proud of my accomplishment.

“So, do you know many people in town?”

“Just my co-workers really, and now I know you.” Did that sound flirty? It definitely sounded flirty. Why did I say that?
Please don’t take it the wrong way, please don’t take it the wrong way, please don’t take it the wrong way.

“If you’re not doing anything tonight, it’s a friend’s birthday. Would you like to go with me? I was actually thinking of not going because I would be the only one without a date.”