Taming Theresa (20 page)

Theresa headed toward them, “Chris? Chris
Owen? I don't remember any Chris Owen on Vicky's guest list...”

“Uh huh, that’s right,” he said, studying the
bottle in his hand.

Diane sipped her wine. Terry must know him.
Chris has to know someone in her family.

Theresa opened her mouth and a delicate belch
slipped out. She covered her mouth and giggled, “Oh dear, excuse
me.”

John put an arm around her protectively and
gave Theresa a squeeze. "She just wants to make sure you're having
a good time. Isn't that right, Babe?"

"You're right. I want all our guests to enjoy
themselves." She burped again, frowning. “I still don’t remember
your name though. Wait a minute, now I remember who you are.”

"Terry! Cut it out. Chris didn't crash the
wedding. Right Chris?" she asked, laughing.

He studied the wine label, as though it
fascinated him. “Actually I’m a friend of your dad’s,” he said and
put down the bottle turning his attention to the room behind
them.

Following his gaze, Diane saw Vince coming in
the back door. With him was a dark, slim woman. She wore a stylish
black dress with a neckline that plunged nearly to her waist,
revealing most of her high round breasts. Under the short skirt,
her shapely legs balanced on very high, narrow heels. She paused,
chin held high, surveying the room until her cool gaze fell on
Chris, and she frowned. She whispered something to Vince and then
strode rapidly toward their table. The coal black eyes seemed to
bore right through her and Diane gave a shiver.

The dark eyed woman rested her hand on
Chris's shoulder, bending to whisper in his ear. He rose quickly
and smiled at Diane. “Excuse me, I’ll be right back. Hey. Save me
another dance, okay?"

"Sure," she muttered.

"Diane, I promise, I’ll be back in a minute.
I have to take care of something.” Without further explanation, he
followed the woman's tight little butt, threading his way through
the crowd. Vince joined Chris as they followed the strange woman
rapidly out the back door.

Rose sat down next to her. “Oh my god!
Theresa, John, did you see that tramp? Just look at her. Who
dresses like that?”

Diane sat stunned, staring into space, toying
with the stem of her wine glass.

Waking up on the morning after the wedding,
Theresa felt absolutely wonderful. Relieved that the reception had
been a success and it was all over, she snuggled her cheek on a
warm muscular chest. Nestled in mounds of crisp cotton sheets and
lacy pillows, she sighed with pleasure. The strong arm wrapped
around her shoulders, holding her close felt so warm and safe.

Wait a minute. Puzzled, she peeked through
her lashes and froze when she saw her hand was draped possessively
over very male, very naked, hips. Oh my god. She squeezed her eyes
closed, and slowly opened them again.

Not quite wanting to, but needing to know,
she looked up at the man. "Oh my God!” She whispered hoarsely. "I'm
in bed with John."

Oh my god, what did I do? A confusion of
anger, fear, and giddy delight filled her. How could this happen? I
went to the wedding, Vicky and Jack were so happy. The reception
was awesome, even though that bastard, Tony, showed up with his
puttanna, Maryanne.

Panic overwhelmed her as she remembered
making love with John, not just once, but several times throughout
the night. It'd been amazing. Oh god, I'm such a slut. I hardly
know him! Thank God, he's still asleep.

Ever so slowly, she pulled her arm away and
inched back, putting some distance between them. She looked around
franticly. What do I do now? I can't leave here naked. Maybe I can
hide in the bathroom until he leaves.

Theresa slipped from the bed, grabbed at a
blanket and struggled unsuccessfully to tug it loose. She paused
and looked down at John, remembering his passion as he'd tenderly
made love to her.

Look at him. There he is, the bastard, still
sleeping with a smile on his face. Oh, god, I've got to get out of
here, she thought, whimpering as she struggled with the
blanket.

A gentle rapping on the door caused her to
jump and shriek, the blanket sliding ineffectually to the
floor.

"Good morning, Babe." John grinned at her
from the bed. "Come on back here," he said, patting the blankets at
his side.

Theresa grabbed for a pillow and tried to
shield herself from his lecherous gaze. "Turn around! Stop staring
at me."

"You're kidding, right?"

At the door, the knocking came again.

"I mean it! Turn around, please," she
begged.

"Babe, don't you think it's a little late for
the shy routine?" His eyes twinkled with amusement. "There's not an
inch of you I didn't...

"Just shut up!" she hissed. "Get out."

John shrugged, "Okay, okay." Throwing the
covers off, he stood up presenting her with a view that made her
mouth run dry. She swallowed. He was gorgeous.

"Go ahead, look all you want. I'm not
shy."

She blushed, "Shut up, I'm not looking at
anything, you bastard."

"Whatever!" He bent over and located his
pants, tugging them on.

A voice called through the door, "Good
morning you love birds. We have a little something special to start
your day."

"Terry, please come back to bed, while I see
who's at the door." John gave her a sultry smile that made her
knees go weak. "I'd love to crawl back into bed with you.
Please?"

"Are you freakin' crazy?" She looked around
helplessly, still clutching the pillow. "Where are my clothes?"

"I don't know. Where did you leave them?"
John shrugged, turned to the door, and called out, "Is that you
Denny? Come on in."

Theresa screamed and dove back into bed and
pulled the covers up over her head. "Get rid of him," she
hissed.

"Make up your mind, woman," said John
reaching for the button on his fly.

“Stay out there! Don’t you dare get back in
this bed!”

"All right, all right, I'll get rid of
him."

The door swung open and a teacart rattled
slowly into the room, followed by a grinning Denny.

"Good morning," he sang out. "And best wishes
to the happy couple." Steering towards a small table spread with a
pink damask cloth, placed artistically in front of the window, he
stopped when the front wheel snagged on a heap of red puddled in
the middle of the floor.

Theresa peeked out from beneath the covers,
looking pale as Denny peered around the cart and giggled nervously.
"Oh my. Somebody's clothes on the floor."

John walked over to the teacart and studied
it with interest, one hand scratching a hairy chest and the other
vainly attempting to straighten bedraggled hair. Surrounding a pink
vase holding a single rose, there was a pair of delicate china cups
and saucers, a carafe of coffee, and a plate of fresh fruit and
tiny muffins.

"Wow, breakfast. This looks awesome, Denny."
He leaned in fascinated. "Are those chocolate dipped strawberries?"
The aroma of coffee rose to meet him and his stomach growled
audibly.

Denny looked at John confused, but continued
with his prepared speech. "This is just a little treat for you
newlyweds. Danny and I wanted to express our thanks to you both for
choosing to spend this special night with us at The Scarlet Pippin.
We hope you'll return many times in the years to come. If you'd
like, please join us downstairs for our full breakfast. With a
flourish, he pulled a Champaign bottle from an ice bucket and began
working at the foil and wire covering the cork.

John glanced at Theresa, and gave her a
devilish wink. He said, "Denny, we'll do that. It'll be romantic to
return to this very room and do it again."

Theresa slipped down, pulled the covers over
her head, and groaned.

"Is she feeling all right?" Denny asked,
looking worried.

"Aww. She's fine." John leaned over to
whisper confidentially, "I think maybe I was a little too much for
her last night. Know what I mean?" He nudged Denny and grinned.

"Oh my." The little man stared at John as
realization dawned. "Oh dear, you're John. I wasn't expecting....
Well, I thought that Jack and Vicky were...," He was so startled
that he entirely forgot about the Champagne, as his hands worked at
the cork. The stillness was shattered by a loud pop as the loosened
cork flew into the air. It ricocheted off the ceiling, bounced on
the bed, and came to rest at Theresa's feet.

"I think a little breakfast will be very
nice," said John, taking the bottle from Denny.

A strange moaning growl came from under the
covers.

Denny looked worried and whispered. "I hope
she's all right, she sounds angry."

"I can assure you, she's wonderful," said
John.

Theresa lowered the covers just enough to
glare out at them.

Denny looked around uncertainly, his gaze
finally settling on the bathroom door. "Are Jack and Vicky perhaps
in the next room?"

"Nope, Jack and Vicky are on a plane on their
way to the Virgin Islands."

Denny shifted nervously as John scratched and
studied the contents of the cart. "All right, I guess," said Denny
hesitating. "You know, I was so certain that it was Jack and Vicky
in this room. I must have gotten it wrong. I am so, so sorry. I
didn't know, didn't think, certainly never would have...," he
stammered beginning to back out of the room.

John looked up. "Well that's all right.
Thanks for coming."

"Danny and I thought a little surprise for
the newlyweds would make everything just that much more special,
but we had no idea... Please excuse me." Denny tugged the bottle
from John's grasp and thrust it back in the ice. "Excuse me; I'd
better go check with Danny." As the flustered little man began to
reverse himself, he realized the cart was still snagged on the pile
of clothing.

"Oh dear," mumbled Denny. "I'm so so terribly
sorry. I thought, I didn't realize. Oh my heavens. How terrible."
He bent down, examined the wheel, and pulled until the red
bridesmaid dress came loose. He held it up and looked at it
thoughtfully and then over at Theresa and then down to the under
things still wrapped tightly around the wheel.

"Oh. Oh, dear me. This is all wrong. I'm so
sorry. I didn't know. Oh my, this is simply dreadful." He bent down
again and tugged on the underwear in an attempt to disentangle
it.

John came to his rescue pulling the bra free
from the wheels of the teacart, but the tiny red thong was wrapped
firmly around the axle. "No problem Denny, I'll get it." He quickly
snapped the elastic and came up with most of the satin triangle.
"These things always break so easily."

"Oh my god, you bastard!" Theresa sat up and
screamed, her full breasts spilling over the covers. "Now what'll I
wear?"

Mumbling, "I'm outta here." Denny retreated
rapidly with his rattling cart down the hall, the red elastic
flapping with each turn of the wheels.

John found himself in the middle of the room,
holding Theresa's dress, bra, and the remains of her thong.
Chuckling, he placed them on the foot of the bed, ignoring her
angry glare.

"Babe, we definitely need to talk. Just as
soon as I can get some coffee. And food." John sighed. "He could've
at least left the cart."

"I am not your 'Babe'!"

As he entered the bathroom, John could hear
Theresa moving around the room, muttering to herself. I'm probably
in a shitload of trouble, but I don’t care. Last night was
incredible. He found the miniature bottle of shampoo and bar of
soap on the vanity and stepped into the shower. Turning the water
on full blast, as hot as he could stand it, he luxuriated in the
spray for a few minutes before beginning to scrub. A chuckle
escaped him as he lathered shampoo into his hair. Man, talk about
getting lucky. She's so hot. Did I turn her on? Was it the wedding
that did it? Or the martinis she drank while bitching about that
idiot, Tony? Whatever it was, I want some more of it. Then,
remembering the look on Denny's face when he realized they weren't
the bride and groom, John laughed aloud, as he reached for a
towel.

Back in the room, he bowed to her and
announced, "It's all yours, Babe."

Theresa stormed past him and slammed the
bathroom door.

As he heard the shower starting, John called,
"Why don't you have a nice soak in the tub instead? I'll bring the
wine and candles." Something hit the door with a loud thump. I
wonder what that was. She can't still be mad, can she?

Am I in love with her, or is it lust? Maybe
it's both. If Theresa enjoyed last night half as much as I
did...man. He grinned at himself in the mirror over the dresser.
The memory of her moans of pleasure as she writhed beneath him
played and replayed in his mind. One thing's certain. I'm not going
to let her slip away, back to New Jersey. I'm going to see a lot
more of Theresa Buonadies.

He waited for a while after the shower turned
off. Listening at the door for a moment, he knocked softly. He
waited for a full minute before raising his hand to knock again,
but the door opened.

She wore the red bridesmaid dress. It was a
little rumpled, but he thought she was beautiful. His heart skipped
a beat and he stared, unable to speak. He was gazing into the face
of an angel, but the angel wasn't smiling.

"Would you like some breakfast?" he finally
managed to croak.

"John, about last night..." she began.

He recovered his composure. "Please. Let's
not talk about last night. Not yet. We can do that later. Right
now, I'm starving and I desperately need some coffee. I know you
must be hungry. You hardly ate a thing yesterday." He looked at his
watch. "Denny said they serve breakfast until eleven. It's now
after ten thirty. How about some coffee and then we'll talk?"