A Grand Seduction (19 page)

The answer was worse than she’d imagined, and the last word in Ridelle’s sentence shot her head straight up off the pillow. “Oh honey, no. You were a virgin? But why?”

The other girl gave a sardonic laugh. “Why was I still a virgin, or why did I do it anyway?”

“
Why did you give away something that meaningful for this?”

There was a pause. “It’s not like my virginity was some sacred calling. Losing it just never happened. I knew the first time was kind of a big deal, but I didn’t think it would be a
really
big deal. It was long overdue, and I’m a modern girl. But now I feel kind of sick, and a little sad.”

Twyla crossed her legs Indian-style. “Of course it’s a big deal, sweetie. You should have told us. No one would have asked this of you if we’d known.”

“
Which is exactly why I didn’t say anything. I mean, who else could do this for Fran? You’re married. Dominique and Bruce don’t get along. And they were right about me—I was something Bruce wanted for a long time. He admitted that tonight. So I was the natural choice.”

Something icy dropped low in her stomach. “Did he hurt you?”

The sniff on the other end sent a pang of sympathy straight through her chest. “Yes.” The word made her sound almost like a little girl. “It hurt a lot. Now I’m just sore. Raw, actually. I bled a little. Is that normal?”

She pulled the covers tighter around her, grimacing at the thought. “I wouldn’t think so at your age, but I imagine it’s possible. A little pain at first, yeah, but you’re raw? He was too rough. Let me guess—you never told him, either?”

“
Not up front, but he figured it out right away. I guess guys can tell.”

Twyla curled her lip. “If he knew, he should have been gentle with you, not rough.”

Another pause. “I don’t know if he was rough, really. It’s not like I have anything to compare it with. But he actually did it harder after he found out.”

“
Ugh.” The icy lump twisted in Twyla’s stomach, prompting a sting of tears. “That’s disgusting.”

“
Yeah, well, hearing he’d gotten a virgin seemed to get him real fired up. Said it turned him on so much that he couldn’t hold back.”

Anger flared in her throat. “What a pig. A vile, smarmy, self-absorbed bastard. I’m so sorry, Ridelle. I wished I’d have known. At least I could have offered some advice.”

“
I know. It was stupid of me not to say so, but I was embarrassed. It’s over now.”

“
Right. Frannie has her proof and can nail that asshole’s nuts to the wall. Then you can find yourself a nice guy to have a second first time with. Okay?”

“
Uh, about that.” Ridelle let out a deep breath. “That’s the other reason I called. I didn’t get the pictures.”

A breath caught in Twyla’s throat. “What? Why? What went wrong?”

Another sniff. “At first, I was too caught up in the moment. It was harder to manage than I thought it would be.” She gave a dramatic sigh. “Once I had the remote in my hand, I just couldn’t go through with it.”

Twyla blinked in confusion. “You can’t be saying you didn’t want Bruce to get what he deserves?”

“
Oh, no. Don’t get me wrong—it’s not that I didn’t want Bruce to pay. I just couldn’t stomach the thought of having those kinds of dirty photos of my very first time.”

Before Twyla could respond, her friend gave a bitter laugh. “I know it sounds crazy. It’s not like agreeing to screw him in the first place makes me some saint. I just felt dirty enough as it was.”

“
You’re not dirty. You were trying to help a friend get away from a creepy bastard. Nothing wrong with that.”

“
Yeah, some help. I decided to have my first time in privacy, then get the photos the next time. But that was before I knew how bad it would hurt. By the time he was ready to go again, all I wanted was to get him out of my apartment. I was too sore to have him jamming me again. God, why didn’t I just snap the damn photos? How could I be so stupid?”

An unpleasant tingle crawled up Twyla’s spine, breaking out in beads of sweat along the back of her neck. Who could blame Ridelle for not wanting nasty photos of her very first time?

“
Sweetie, I want you to listen to me. You don’t have to do it with him again, okay?”

“
I have to. I’ve gotta get those photos for Fran, or all this was for nothing. I’m going to invite him over again tomorrow.”

“
No! Don’t do that.”

“
Why not? If I don’t get those pictures, this shit was all for nothing.”

Twyla’s heart pounded with sick dread. She wanted to tell Ridelle the real reason, but she just couldn’t. Not now. The girl had been through enough for one night.

“
Twyla? You still there?”

“
Just wait a couple of days, okay? You need a chance to heal. Talk to him if you want, of course, so he doesn’t suspect anything’s wrong. I just don’t want him causing you any more pain.” Which was true enough.

“
I suppose. It’s not like I’m in a rush to get pounded again. I’m just in a hurry to have this over with.”

“
I am too. Call me again if you need to talk, okay?” A thought dawned. “Oh, and Ridelle?”

“
What?”

“
Talk to me first before you invite him over again. I can try to give you some pointers so it won’t hurt as much next time.”

“
I will. Thanks for hearing me out on this. I didn’t think Dom would quite get it, and I sure as hell wasn’t about to call Fran.”

The bedside clock read eleven-fifteen when they clicked off the call. Twyla stared at the handset, replaying the conversation in her mind. Before Ridelle changed her mind and got herself into bed with him again, the group needed to talk.

Twyla smacked the touch lamp on and dialed Dominique’s number. She’d know what to do.

Rain wept war tears over Quakertown when a knock came at Ridelle’s door two days later. Her three friends huddled under trench coats and a pair of black umbrellas, the latter shaken out with vigor and left standing against the wall of her front stoop before the women entered.

The dark attire, somber expressions, and ominous weather seemed more suited to a wake than an impromptu meeting, though they hadn’t exactly gathered to discuss casserole recipes and needlepoint.

After depositing wet rain gear on a coat rack in the small tile entryway, the group followed the scent of freshly brewed coffee to the kitchen. Snapping up mugs that were already laid out, Twyla and Dominique helped themselves while Ridelle took a seat at what might be considered the head of the table, were it not perfectly square. Fran came around and sat directly across, setting a black leather saddlebag purse on the floor beside her. Was she avoiding eye contact? Ridelle couldn’t tell.

“
None for you two?” Twyla tapped her mug, voice brighter than her gaze.

Ridelle shook her head. “I’m jittery enough, thanks.”

Fran, half-distracted by drops of rain water that had found the front of her ash knit tunic, responded in kind. “I’ll never sleep tonight if I do.”

Twyla shrugged, sipping experimentally at the brew as she took the seat backed against the living room. Her mug was white and proclaimed her a lover of New York. Dominique, in a wine pantsuit, was close behind.

Far from the usual buzz of idle chatter and gossip, the foursome sipped and stared in relative silence for an almost teeth-gritting span of time before Dominique finally set down her mug.

She fastened Ridelle with a gaze. “I guess what we’re all wondering first is whether you’ve talked to him since the other night.”

“
He called yesterday.” Ridelle’s attempt to keep herself from tossing a glance at Fran as she replied failed. The woman’s hair was fast becoming a post-rainfall frizz, but the eyes that met hers in return were unruffled and determined.

Dominique pressed on. “And?”

Ridelle tugged on the hem of her royal blue velour jogger. “And, he wanted to see me again.”

Twyla held her mug in both hands, peering over the brim as she blew gently into the steaming cup. “Did you?”

Why did Ridelle have the sudden feeling that she was on trial? She shook her head. “You said to wait until I talked to you before I did. So I told him to come by tonight.” She tried, but didn’t quite succeed in keeping a sarcastic edge from her voice as she added, “That good enough?”

Fran leaned forward, breasts clad in the ash scoop neck spilling onto the table top. “That was fine, honey.”

Ridelle shot her a questioning gaze, but it was Dominique who stepped in. “Tomorrow would have been better, but this works out okay. He’ll think everything between you two is still on the up and up when Frannie confronts him tonight.”

“
Tonight?” Ridelle reached up to tighten her slipping ponytail.

Fran nodded, arms crossed on the table in front of her. “The big showdown is just hours away. The night I earn my freedom.” The smile that followed overlapped scheming with genuine relief.

Ridelle frowned at each woman in turn. “I don’t understand. What are you planning to confront him with? You have to wait until I get the photos so you’ll have proof.”

Twyla developed a sudden, intense interest in her coffee cup. Fran glanced at Dominique with raised brows.

Dominique sipped twice at her mug before replying. “Fran’s already got the proof she needs.”

“
How? Do I just have to testify or something?”

Twyla sat back in her seat, playing with a gold filigree locket Ridelle knew contained photos of Andy and the kids. She rubbed the surface in a way similar to how Bruce had thumbed Ridelle’s diamond necklace.

Fran broke the moment’s silence with a sigh. “I’ve got photos of you sleeping with Bruce.”

Blood pounded in Ridelle’s ears, loud enough to where she thought perhaps she hadn’t understood Frannie’s words.

“
It was Dom’s idea,” Twyla said. “In case something went wrong.”

Breath cut off from Ridelle’s lungs. “You guys were spying on me?”

“
It wasn’t like that,” Dominique said. “None of us were actually here. You wanted privacy, and we respected that.”

“
I don’t understand.”

The woman reached a manicured hand to smooth a complicated French braid that didn’t require it. Not so much as one rain-frizzed hair dared visit this woman’s head. “It was felt that, should something go wrong with your equipment or ability to operate it, a backup plan should be in place.”

Ridelle folded her arms firmly under her bosom. “You mean, if for some reason I became unwilling to cooperate?”

Plum colored nails clicked the table top in some sort of unidentifiable Morse code. “Don’t be defensive. Look, this whole plan depended on getting viable proof. Shouldn’t we have made sure we had a redundancy system on hand, just in case? It’s not like you could have yelled ‘Cut!’ and asked for another take if the camera didn’t work or something. We did it to help you.”

“
To help me.” Her gaze wandered the table and found Twyla nodding a bit too vigorously.

“
And it did help you,” Fran said. “Almost as much as it helped me.”

“
Really? Guess I’m not seeing the pig picture, then, because I don’t get how my so-called friends sneaking behind my back taking pictures of something very private was done to help me.”

Fran snorted. “Private? Funny, I thought it was a very well-rehearsed, well-discussed moment between four women.”

Ridelle’s sigh was impatient. “I made the decision to allow myself privacy because it was my very first time. Ever. How would you feel if photos of you losing your virginity turned up in some skanky lawyer’s office? Jesus. Not exactly shots my parents want to put in my First Moments photo album, you know?”

The redhead appeared unconvinced. “If you’d have told us you were a virgin in the first place, things would have been a lot different.”

Ridelle threw her hands in the air. “How? Would you not have lied to me and invaded my privacy?”

“
Ridelle.” Dominique’s calm voice sounded even quieter against the rising tide of the other two women’s. “I know you’re surprised by the news. But let me explain.”

A retort died unsaid as the girl turned a stony gaze her way. “Knowing you were a virgin wouldn’t have changed the decision for backup, no. But it would have altered the entire plan from the beginning. We never would have asked you to go through with this.” Before Ridelle could make the same argument she’d given Twyla over the phone, Dominique held up a quieting hand. “But had you still been determined to proceed, we could have helped prepare you. We could have discussed your feelings about postponing the photo op. The point is, you made the decision to sleep with Fran’s husband without getting the photos
and
to withhold the fact that you were a virgin all on your own. We had no input.”