Operation One Night Stand (11 page)

“I’ll do it.”

“You’ll what?”

“I said I’ll do it.
I need to prep a bit though.
We need lunch and I need drinks.”

I’d avoided Jim the rest of the day, hoping for a bit of spontaneity.

At sundown, the girls and I headed out for our fancy French dinner.
We were dressed to kill.
We watched the wedding from the terrace.
It was beautiful.
I saw Jim in the requisite island wedding attire—khaki shorts and a white button down—standing beside his brother.
I watched as the bride and groom kissed and my belly dropped.
I used to want marriage with Steven.
I used to want children, a house in the suburbs, and a minivan.
At that moment, on Thanksgiving eve, watching two people get married on the shores of Jamaica at sunset, I had no idea what I wanted anymore.

Melody and Sarah kept sneaking not so subtle glances in my direction, probably wondering if I would go through with it.
When I saw the bridal party begin walking off the beach, I summoned the lady balls I’d grown last Saturday and chugged back a half glass of wine.
I waited until I saw Jim semialone, eyeballed the girls, and made my way over to him.
I not so accidentally brushed up against him.

“Oh, excuse me.”

“Caroline!”

“Jim?”
I pretended I didn’t know what I’d done.

“You look—wow.
You look great.”
He took my hand before kissing me on the cheek.
From the smell of it, he was half in the bag with me.

“So do you.
So, your brother got married, huh?”
I looked around at the intimate gathering of what I assumed to be family and a few very close friends.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t want to intrude.
I’ll let you get back to them.”
I turned to walk away and he grabbed my wrist.
I played coy, but inside my stomach was doing somersaults.

“You aren’t intruding.
As a matter of fact, my brother and his wife are probably going back to their room.
And everyone here is just going to continue drinking.”

“Oh, well—”

“Are your friends here?
I can introduce them to my friends.”

I looked around and noticed the two girls were already laughing with the pair of young men I’d met earlier.

“Looks like they’ve introduced themselves.”

I made sure to make steady eye contact and slow blinked the way Melody taught me.
It felt dumb and uncomfortable but it seemed to work.

“Looks like it, huh?
Wanna go somewhere?”

“We’re on an island, there aren’t many places to go.”

“We could just, I don’t know, go for a walk and see where that takes us.”

“I’d like that.
Let me just let my friends know.”

“I’ll grab you a drink.
What would you like?”

“Wine is good.
White, please.”

I hurried over to Sarah and Melody, who were half watching with obvious interest.

“We’re going for a walk.
Don’t wait up.
Is there anything in my teeth?”

Sarah inspected.
“Nope.
You’re good.”

I handed her my shoes and kissed each one on the head before hurrying back over to Jim.

“Thanks,” I said as he handed me a plastic cup, full to the top, of wine.
I looked at him and cocked my head.

“I figured plastic was better than walking around with glass.
I can change it for you.”

I took a sip.
“Nope, this is fine.”

We stood in front of each other for minutes in silence.
The longer the silence stretched, the more I drank.

Just as the situation was about to get awkward, he downed his cup of liquid courage, grabbed a towel from a beach bag, and took my hand, sliding his fingers between mine and tilting his head toward the beach.

Finding a semisecluded spot on the beach under a tree, we laid out the towel and flopped down.
I stretched out my legs, flexing my feet.
Jim scooched forward, took my right foot in his hand, and began massaging it.

He dragged his fingers between my toes, pushed his thumbs into the arch of my foot, and kneaded the pad of my heel with his knuckles.
I leaned back against the tree and closed my eyes.
It was heaven.
Until my eyes shot open when he put my toes in his mouth.

I didn’t know whether to cringe or moan in excitement.
I couldn’t pull it away.
There was nothing I could do but shift uncomfortably, lean back, and close my eyes again.

I felt his tongue slowly leave my toes and move along the top of my foot.
Much better.
That was something I could get used to.
His mouth played along my shin as his hands massaged my calf.
Definitely something I could get used to.

His mouth reached my knee and the butterflies returned to my stomach.
With every lick, the tingling between my legs grew.
As his hands gently pushed up my dress and found their way to my inner thighs, I exhaled the breath I’d been holding.
I could feel the scruff on his chin delicately rub against me.
Tangling my hands in his hair, I pushed his head farther into me.
His breath was cool against my rising heat.
His tongue was soft against my firm clit.
He licked and sucked until I all but passed out.

Quickly, he grabbed me by the hips and pulled me down underneath him.
His mouth crashed on mine and the tongue that had explored my leg now explored my mouth.
With one hand behind my head, he used the other to unbutton his pants.
I reached down and pulled my dress up to my waist then gripped him, guided him where I wanted him to go.
Shifting my panties over, he pushed deep into me and I cried out.

He was insatiable.
The rhythm was quick, our mouths moved, frenzied with want.
He bit my lip and pulled as I sank my nails into his firm ass, pulling him farther into me.
He pulled the straps of my dress down so my breasts were exposed.
Hungrily he took a nipple in his mouth and sucked hard until I thought I would scream in pleasurable pain.

I felt the familiar vibration rise inside me and I came harder than I ever had before.
Gripping my hair, he thrust more forcefully until he emptied himself.

Breathing heavily, we lay still for a long while.
He nuzzled my neck and nibbled on my earlobe.
I was still quivering from the aftershocks when he suggested we go to his room.

The next morning, I tiptoed back into my room, hoping to make a quiet entrance.
No such luck.

“Well, look who’s rolling in.
Did the walk of shame, did we?”
Sarah wiggled her eyebrows.

“Looks like she’s the only one of us who got lucky last night.”

“Shut it.
I’m starving.
Let’s get some breakfast.”

At the small café, I saw Jim and his family having breakfast.
We locked eyes over coffee, fruit, and a dozen people I’d never met.
He took a sip of his coffee, tilted his head toward the beach like he did the night before, excused himself from the table, and walked away.

“I’ll be right back.
Or not.”

“Where are you going?
You’re not going to finish eating?”
Sarah asked.

Melody looked toward Jim and smiled.
“Just don’t forget we leave tomorrow.”

O
n Monday, I woke up before my alarm.
I rolled out of bed, looked out my window, noticing a thin dusting of snow covering the sidewalk, and sighed.
The sun of Jamaica suddenly seemed so long ago.
Thankfully the throbbing between my legs had all but disappeared.
First-day jitters were on high alert.
I fell asleep the night before alternating my thoughts between Jim, Ryan, Brian, and my new job.
Maybe Sarah was right; there was more to life than singular focus.

In time
, I thought to myself.
I’d spent the better part of the past five years lost in what I thought was a perfect relationship.
It wasn’t until I took a step back, wallowed in vats of hot fudge sundaes, and shed tears over every chick flick and romantic comedy that my vision had cleared.

Steven and I weren’t perfect.
Far from it.
But we projected perfection and that, in the end, is what kept us together.
Our relationship made his family happy.
Honestly?
I think the breakup was a rebellion on both our parts.
I was tired of dinner parties and galas and client meetings.
Steven was tired of holding his daddy’s expectations on his shoulders.
Of course, that still doesn’t excuse him from shoving his dick in the nearest undergrad he could find and screwing her in the bed where I slept.

I shuffled, still tired from tossing and turning all night, into the bathroom.
The water, a few degrees below scalding, cleansed extraneous gunk from my thoughts.
Jim.
Ryan.
Brian.
Sex.
Steven.
Sore vaginas.
Everything slowly slipped down the drain, at least for the time being.
Train schedules and anxiety—but good anxiety—took over.
Where would this job take me?
Who would I meet?
Will I love it?

I shook my head.
None of it mattered.
Today
, I thought,
I am starting over.

“Care!”
Sarah’s banging on the bathroom door slammed me back to reality.
“Don’t use up all the hot water!”

“Sorry!”
I called back before quickly rinsing out my conditioner and forgoing the armpit shave.
It was winter, it wasn’t like I was going sleeveless.

I stepped out, wrapped a towel around myself, and opened the door.

“You know, ten minutes means you’re clean, any more than that and you’re jerking off,” Sarah said as we did the enter-exit dance.

“Girls don’t jerk off!”
I yelled back as I walked to my room.

“Okay, technically they jill off.
Your battery-operated boyfriend proves that.”
Sarah giggled before closing the door.

I stood staring at the clothes hanging in my closet.
Pretty much everything I owned was business attire.
I wasn’t sure if the new job was as strict in their company dress code.
I wasn’t a lawyer at the law firm but I certainly dressed like one.
An assistant editor job spoke, to me, of something more laid back, casual but not sloppy.
Stylish, not stuffy.

I threw shirts and dresses and pants and suits all over my room until I settled on a pair of very cool gray skinny jeans, a blousy white top, and a black blazer.
I popped my thick black frames on my face after I’d applied enough makeup to sufficiently erase the lack of sleep the weekend provided.

In the kitchen, I found Sarah sitting at the table with dry toast and a huge cup of black coffee.
I grabbed my mug from the dish drainer and filled up.
After copious amounts of sugar and cream, I sat across from her, reaching for a piece of toast from her plate.

“Morning.
You’re up early.”

“Morning.
I have to meet with the science department before school starts.
I think they’re changing the curriculum.
Again.”
She shrugged.

“The trials and tribulations of a high school science teacher.”

I loved the fact that we were so different.
In college, my nose was stuck in the classics like Voltaire, Dickinson, and Shakespeare, while Sarah was memorizing the periodic table and dissecting pigs.

She lifted her eyes from the notes she was looking over.
“The
hot
high school science teacher.
You look cute.”

“Thanks.
I didn’t want to look too stuffy.
You think this is okay?”

“I don’t see why not.
What are you going to be doing all day?
Reading manuscripts and fixing them up to become best sellers?
I figured all you’d need is some comfy jammies and my grampa’s recliner.”

“I am pretty sure there is more to it than that.
Eventually.
Right now, I think I’m basically a secretary to the editor.”

Sarah looked down at my bare feet.
“What shoes are you wearing?”

“I don’t know.
What do you think?
Heels?
Boots?”

“Well, not that you’re an intern”—I cringed at the word—“but you’ll be working with some kids right out of college, right?”

“Not sure.”

“Well, sweetie, I think assistant is just a formality.
You have loads of experience working PR at the law firm, writing briefs, all kinds of things.
I think you need to walk in there with shoes that say ‘That’s right, bitches.
I will own this joint.’
I say heels.
Ooh, maybe that cute patent leather pair you bought right before we left for Jamaica.”

I stared at her a beat.
“I’m going to have to concur.”

I downed the last of my coffee and jumped up from the table.
I heard Sarah mutter as I walked away, “That’s right, bitches.”