Ditching The Dream (Dream Series) (41 page)

His hand came up my inner thigh with excruciating patience. My body started to vibrate with anticipation. As his fingers dipped into my folds, I trembled. For the next few minutes, he explored my slit and teased my nub, never giving full satisfaction, just enticing me. His finger then slid up my lubricated crack and teased at my forbidden entrance.

Gently he dipped his finger into that opening. He continued his ministrations on my clit, relaxing and exciting me simultaneously, and started to actually find myself enjoying the sensation in a region no one had gone. It was taboo, and maybe that was the appeal.

“I’ve got something for you. It’s new, never been used. It’s a beautiful glass anal plug. A small one. Do you want to see it?”

I shook my head. I took a relaxing breath and wished for a stiff drink. I felt something cool and hard at my rear. “It’s a stunning glass piece. But not as beautiful as your ass.” I shuddered at his words. I knew what they looked like from the catalogue that came with the vibrator Jess had sent me. Suddenly I found myself wanting this. At the very least, wanting to please him, but selfishly I was hoping I loved it.

Gently I felt pressure. Jack took it as a dance of two steps forward, one step back with the plug. Bit by bit, I felt the plug gain purchase in my most private of places. After a few moments, he bent over my back and whispered in my ear.

“Last push, Beth. Relax.” With a breath, I forced myself to relax and felt the widest part of the plug find its home.

“Bbssshhhh,” I grunted on an exhale as the plug came to a rest. Initially there was a near blinding slice of pain, but as quickly as the sting shot through me, it warmed into something different. An erotic fullness. My core was afire.

“Hmm. No cursing?” he teased. Rubbing a hand over my backside, he whispered, “It is exquisite.”

Next, he ran his finger up and down my slit, rubbing over my clit.
Both?
was the startling thought running through my head. Surely he was kidding. But he wasn’t. I heard the familiar foil tearing of a condom packet. Next I felt the head of his cock at my entrance.

His hands ran up and down my back, sliding over my ass and teasing the plug that sat proudly in place.

“Beth, I’ll give you once choice. Hard and fast or gentle and slow?”

Oh,
now
he was asking?
To be honest, I was incredibly turned on. I wanted this to happen. I wanted this to be as incredible a flame as was burning on my insides.

“More,” was all I could say. That was a good word. More. I wanted more. I wanted all he could give me.

“AAAAhhhhhh! FFFffffffuuuu –” I cried as Jack entered me in one felled push. The double pressure was sublime. I was incoherent in my head. If I had to form a sentence, I would fail miserably.

“Yes, that’s right.
Fuck.
It’s so tight! Say it, Beth.”

He slowly moved out and back in a few times before finding a rhythm to gain speed with.

“Shit!” I whispered as he picked up speed.

“Give into it, Beth. Don’t hold back. This is for you.”

I started to push back at him as harsh as he was slamming into me. Jack brought a hand around and pressed a finger over my clit, I felt as if a freight train were running through me. My body shook. I felt my insides clench around Jack’s cock. Even my ass was enjoying it. And the orgasm wasn’t stopping.

“Fuck!” I shouted as my legs shook under me. If I had been standing, I would have fallen on the floor for sure. My body was singing. Jack kept on driving on even harder. Several thrusts later, he growled his climax.

My chest collapsed onto the bed. My breathing as labored as if I had run a marathon.

Jack rolled us to our sides, still embedded deep inside of me.

“Thank you,” I breathed.

“You amaze me, Beth, in so many ways,” he said. He undid the knot at the back of my head and pulled the blindfold off. “And it is I who owe you the gratitude. Thank you.” He gently kissed my shoulder, and pulled out of me, but with the plug still in place, I still felt full. “I’ll be right back.”

I watched as he walked in his spectacular naked form to the bathroom. Hesitantly, I reached around and touched the bit of the plug that remained outside of me. I was so shocked that it was there, and how good it felt.

Jack returned after cleaning his own parts and and then helped remove the plug and clean me up. We curled up and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

I
spent the night wrapped in Jack’s strong arms and slept as peacefully as an old lady in church. Saturday, I didn’t wake up until nearly noon. I rolled over and pulled Jack’s pillow to my nose and took in his scent. Spicy and sultry and sexy.

Jack made me lunch and we chatted as if we were an old married couple. We talked about news, movies, and work. It was a comfortable companionship. I wondered — if we were married, would we be so amicable? Would he hang around and watch me eat when he could be doing other things? The way things were with Greg?

Scolding myself for not packing an overnight bag, I went home in a pair of Jack’s sweats and T-shirt. I loved how they were scented like him, and I planned to keep them.

Showered and ready for the Saturday dinner shift, I left for work at three-thirty. I was really getting used to Anand driving me around, but I declined his offer to drive me to work. I enjoyed walking down Lexington Avenue, people watching, passing the pet store with the little puppies in the window, and stopping in the coffee shop to grab a quick cup of coffee for my shift.

It was a crazy shift, but I was on it! Tom and I worked together as well as Shelby and I did. We were quite simpatico.

Around ten, I was crouched down in front of the small fridge that held the bottled beer, re-stocking. Tom was in the kitchen dealing with a botched appetizer order.

“Excuse me, can you tell me if Elizabeth Fairchild is working tonight?” a man’s voice asked.

The familiar voice startled me so much that I dropped the bottle that was in my hand. It hit the rubber floor and the impact was enough to shoot the cap off and I got a Heineken shower. As quickly as I could, I grabbed the source of my dousing and dumped it in the trash. Without turning around, I grabbed the bar towel and started to dry off. I wasn’t going to turn around. I couldn’t turn around.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Shit! Fuck! Shit – Fuck – Shit!
Glancing in the mirror that backed the liquor bottles, I looked for him. I couldn’t see him clearly, but the voice was unmistakable. After twenty-four years you know someone’s voice.

“Elizabeth?”

Go away!
I shouted in my head.
I must be dreaming. No. This is a nightmare.
He must have seen my reflection on the wall of bottles.

I gathered every ounce of confidence I’d gained in my short three weeks here, and turned to face him.

“Hi, Greg. What are you doing here?” My voice shook. I didn’t know if it was from fear or anger.

He was not the same Greg I’d left. His sandy blonde hair was unkempt. He hadn’t shaved in the past few days, maybe even a week. His shirt wasn’t even ironed. His light blue eyes were hollow. In fact, he looked like he’d lost several pounds.

“I came to see you. I had to see you. What happened to your hair?”

My hand flew to the back of my head. This was his introduction to my new style. I’d chosen the spiky look today. I couldn’t tell from his expression if he liked it or not. But then I realized that I didn’t really care. I knew he loved my long wavy locks, but I never really cared for the long hair. Several times I’d talked about getting a short cut, but Greg always ‘talked me off that ledge.’ And I didn’t just love it because I looked fantastic with the style. I loved it because it was a symbol of my new self.

“I love it. Thank you for noticing.” My heart was racing in my ears. I didn’t even hear myself speak. I scanned the bar nervously. Where was Tom? I felt naked. I needed my friends.

“Can you take a break?” he asked. “We need to talk.”

“I know.”
How do I get out of this?
Glancing at my watch, I saw that it was only ten-fifteen. “I still have another hour and half at least.”

“You look good.” Greg searched my face and my body. He looked me over as if he didn’t recognize the woman in front of him. “You look so healthy and happy. Were you really so miserable at home?”

Home.
The word was a sucker punch to my stomach.

Tom walked back behind the bar. “Hey, Lizzie. You’ve got a table,” he said brightly, with a wink. “I’ll take care of this fellow for ya. Whoa, did you lose a battle with the beer?”

“You could say that,” I said, forcing a smile. Tom wasn’t privy to my sordid history. Shelby was the only one at work I had confided in. Not that Tom wouldn’t understand or support, I just felt that the fewer people that knew, the better off I’d be.

“Shelby’s got extra shirts in her locker. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you grabbed one,” he offered.

“I just might just take you up on that. Thanks.” I rushed out from behind the bar, intent on hiding in the back room for as long as I could get away with.

On my way, I stopped in my tracks for a second time. And now I knew why Tom winked. The bar had just shrunk to the size of a closet.
What the fucking hell was going on here?
My new table was Jack. I should have known better. He said he’d stop by tonight. And god, did he look good. A snug black T-shirt and jeans.
Fuck!

Stepping up to the table, Jack snaked an arm around my waist. I longed to have him touch me again, but not with husband standing on a few feet away.

“Stop!” I hissed, rotating out of his grasp. I went to stand on the opposite side of the table.

“What?”

“My husband is at the bar,” I whispered in the most serious tone I could make. Jack’s eyes scanned the bar. It was obvious who my husband was. It was the guy who was shooting daggers at Jack.

“What is he doing here?” he asked, poker-faced. I was suddenly very uncomfortable. I’d always had a good guess at what Jack was thinking or mood by his eyes and expression.

“He wants to talk.”

“Are you going to?”

“Jack, I have to. I owe it to him.”

Jack’s lips drew tight and he swallowed hard. He stared deeply into my eyes. He wanted to say something. I could see it. I didn’t want to hear it.

“What can I get you? Macallan?”

He nodded. “A double.”

“I’m going to change my shirt first. If you can’t wait, I’m sure Tom wouldn’t mind getting it for you.”

I raced off to the back room. Inside, I shut the door and sat on a stack of boxes. I choked back tears and the bile that was rising in my throat. I was half sad at seeing how broken Greg was, and half pissed as hell that he wasn’t giving me the space I’d asked for, that he said he’d give me.

Inside Shelby’s locker, I found one of her back up shirts. A knit top with a low cut V. Not one I would have chosen, but I really didn’t have a choice. Behind her shirts, I spied a bottle of Johnny Walker Black. I recall her mentioning that it was in there one afternoon when she was completely frustrated with her ex’s non-stop calling. I knew she wouldn’t mind and would totally understand, so I snatched a paper cup from the water cooler, and poured myself a double. Letting the burn get to work at cooling my nerves, I returned to the bar.

Passing Jack’s table, I noted that he’d not had Tom get him his drink. I smiled weakly at him and went to pour him a glass. Behind the bar I poured Jack his scotch, avoiding eye contact with Greg by any measure. I delivered Jack his drink, who gave an approving once over at my “new” shirt, then I checked in on my other 3 tables. I kept myself as busy as possible, not wanting to give Greg any ground to advance. By the time eleven rolled around, I was a bag of nerves.

Tom was rather loud when he announced that I was officially free to go, drawing the attention of both Greg and Jack. I clocked out and headed to the back room. I sat there for a good five minutes, trying to get my bearings together. What had possessed Greg to come all the way here? I asked for space. This was
not
space. But then again, he came here. He came after me. That had to count for something, right?

When I opened the door, Greg was standing guard. I dropped my head and surrendered to his pursuit.

“So, you want to talk?”

“I think we need to, Elizabeth. Don’t you? Or is it over? Do you want that other guy in the bar?” He stopped and searched my face for an answer, clenching his jaw. “Are you seeing him?”

I looked into his eyes that were welled up with tears. What was I doing? I hadn’t come here to hook up with a guy. I came to be independent. For the most part I was, but I was also behaving like a stupid college kid.

“Greg,” I said, putting a hand on his chest. “I just worked a seven hour shift. I’m desperate for a shower and my pajamas. Can we do this tomorrow? I work the lunch shift, but I’m off at four. I can meet you at eight?”

He placed a hand over mine. “Eight. That will work. Can I come pick you up at your apartment? Phoebe gave me the address.”