Pieces For You (26 page)

“Oh, I love it when you talk shopping…such a turn on,” I said, only partially teasing.

“Is it now?  Let’s test that claim—Chanel.  Gucci.  Prada.”

I loved this playful side of him and I moaned loudly, encouraging him.

“That’s right, talk dirty to me.”

And he did while once again proving himself a man of his word—he proceeded to rock my world again, and this time I returned the favor.

Morning dawned and I awoke in Griffin’s bed, the smell of bacon calling me from the kitchen.  I rolled out of bed and grabbed my robe, following my nose.

“God bless you,” I said dramatically when I found Griffin in the kitchen adding bacon to a plate that held scrambled eggs, fruit salad, and an English muffin. 

“Your coffee is on the table.  Take a seat and I’ll have your plate in a minute.”

I obediently followed his directions, excited for my balanced breakfast—okay, I was excited about the bacon.  Bacon was one of those foods I only ordered occasionally when dining out.  It was a greasy mess to cook and I inevitably burned myself every time, a sad reality since I adored the salty, crispy deliciousness.

Griffin set the plate before me with a self-satisfied smile.

“It was my turn.  I didn’t want you to think I couldn’t work the stove.”

I chuckled because I was beginning to suspect exactly that.  I didn’t need to taste the meal to know the man could cook.  The eggs were the perfect shade of yellow, fluffy and moist without being wet.  The bacon was evenly cooked and perfectly crisped.  I sampled a bite of everything on the plate before officially offering my praise and gratitude.

“I’m glad I could impress the resident chef,” he said.

“Do these skills translate beyond breakfast foods or is that the extent of your repertoire?”

“Nope, this is just the tip of the iceberg.  I am a master of lunch and dinner if it includes pub food or grilling.  Kind of a job requirement.”

Right, I had forgotten he would be familiar with the kitchen due to the bar. 

“You’ve been holding out on me,” I complained lightheartedly.

“Not exactly.  My skills are limited to the menu at The Stop, and after eating the same food regularly for the last ten years, I’m sick of it.  With the exception of a few seasonal specials, we have never changed the menu.”

“The food is good and consistent.  Customers know what to expect; it’s risky to switch it up.  You don’t want to lose your base.”

“Exactly, but it would be nice to expand our offerings and maybe grow our lunch crowd.  I’m not complaining, but I don’t want to become complacent.”

I nodded my agreement.  I would grab a menu and look at it with new eyes the next time we were at The Stop…actually, I had a better idea.

“Why don’t we invite Ev and Hunter to join us for dinner tomorrow night?  We can have dinner at The Stop and give you feedback.  Maybe shoot some pool afterwards.”

“Sounds like a plan.  I’ll text Hunter today.  I assume you’ll tell Ev at work?”

“Yep.”

I helped with the dishes and hurried to get dressed (after giving Griffin my best ‘thank you’ kiss) so I wouldn’t be late.  Luckily, the fickle, often cruel local traffic was in my favor and I arrived with three minutes to spare.  I ducked behind the counter while tying my apron.

“What has you so chipper this morning?” Meg asked with a smile.

“I am chipper, aren’t I?” I replied happily.

A chuckle announced Ev’s approach.

“She took another trip to O-Town,” Ev said, certain she was on point.  “Am I right?  You don’t have to tell me, I know I’m right.”

Per her instructions, I said nothing, just smiled.

“Well, tell me!” Ev demanded.  She could claim I overshared as much as she liked, but Ev was the first in line to get the dirty details.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to be too graphic.  Let’s just say I had a lovely morning.  Then there was last night…but you don’t want to know about all that,” I taunted Ev mercilessly.

“Bitch, you usually say every dirty thought that passes through your head and now you have dirt I’m dying to know and you’re holding out on me?  Spill!”

I laughed at her determination.  I had every intention of singing like a canary, but it was fun to make her work for it.

“I have officially renewed my membership to the ‘O of the Century’ club.  Griffin’s skill with his hands is nothing compared to what his mouth can do.  I forgot my own name he was so mind-boggling.  His body is spectacular and all those muscles…he’s got the moves and the strength.  I actually experienced the fabled standing 69—another item crossed off my sexy bucket list!”

“You have a sexy bucket list?” Meg asked with astonishment.

“Don’t you?”

“No,” she said hesitantly.

“That’s it, I’m buying you a journal for Christmas so you can start your list,” I said resolutely.

“You don’t have to do that,” Meg insisted.

“Oh yes I do.  Every girl needs a sexy wish list.  You just have to be nice ‘til Christmas so Santa will bring you someone to be really naughty with.”

Ev laughed, but I could see the cartoon bubble pop up over her head with Hunter wrapped up in a big bow.

“No, I really…don’t,” Meg sighed.  “Can I be honest?”

Ev and I both nodded.  Meg was so serious and reluctant, neither of us wanted to discourage her from sharing. 

“I—” Meg began before abruptly stopping to assess us again.  “I don’t get it—all the hype.  I’ve done it, of course, but I still don’t get it.  I used to think girls were just talking it up to be cool—like the musical ‘Cats.’  Everyone tells you to go see it, so you do, and when the curtain falls you’re left scratching your head wondering if you went to a different play, but you tell everyone you loved it because it’s expected.  Is there something wrong with me if I hated ‘Cats’?  Does it make me a bad person?  Is there something wrong with me?” she asked with desperation.

Ev and I looked at each other with the same shocked and dismayed expressions.

“Um, Meg, honey…that may be one of the saddest things I have ever heard.  I doubt there is anything wrong with you other than your shit choice of bedmates.  How many men have you been with?” Ev asked calmly.

“Two.”

“
Really?
  That’s hardly a broad enough sample to draw the conclusion that sex is overrated.  You just need to find the right guy…a man who
knows
what all of his parts are for and how to work all of yours,” Ev tried to comfort her.

“Maybe, I don’t know.  The guys seemed happy and said how amazing it was, but all I really thought was ‘I missed five minutes of
The Voice
for that?’  I would have been closer to getting off from watching Blake Shelton’s sexy ass nestled in that big red chair.”

“Blake Shelton is hot,” I said, as Ev chimed in with, “Screw that…Adam Levine is sex on a damn stick!”

Ev and I shot each other menacing looks over our longstanding feud about the hottest judge on
The Voice
.  I wanted to stick up for Blake, but Meg needed my help more at the moment.

“Five minutes?  Really?  The only time that’s acceptable is if you’re in public,” I said, now that it was clear what her problem was.  Meg was one of those unfortunate women who had only encountered bedroom duds and what she needed was a stud—a tried and true stallion with a proven record.

“You
have
taken the magic carpet ride to the Taj Mah-O at some point though, right?” I asked.

“Only when flying solo,” she said, a blush tinging her cheeks.

“Okay, then it’s not you…you are able, your collaborators were just incompetent.  Let’s face it, a few in-and-outs is all it takes for men to find the Promised Land.  You need a man who doesn’t want to take the trip unless you are along for the ride; his pleasure needs to be rooted in yours as much as his own.  If Hunter found his before me, he wouldn’t rest until I was screaming his name—he just wouldn’t be content otherwise,” Ev said, a satisfied smile tipping her lips at the thought of Hunter’s prowess.

“Same here.  Griff would use every weapon in his vast arsenal to make sure I detonated.  And let me tell you, what that man can do with his mouth—”

“Please, continue to rub it in.  My sanity was growing tedious anyway,” Meg interjected dryly.

“Sorry,” I said sheepishly.

“You’re a free agent right now.  Are you looking for the real deal or just a little fun?” Ev asked.

“I’m taking a break from the whole relationship drama.  All I want right now is a wild, commitment-free, scream-filled ride on a champion bull.”

“Maybe we can run a promotion—50% off all beverages for hot, single men,” I suggested.  It would attract a new crop of potential broncos for Meg to consider.

“Not a brothel!  How many times must I remind you,” Ev scolded me.  “I’ll keep my eyes peeled for you, Meg.  I embrace any project that requires me to scope out hot guys.”

“Don’t knock yourselves out.  I’m resigned to a life where the hottest sex I experience is in the books I read.”

Meg excused herself to collect supplies from the back—clearly ready to escape the conversation.

Now that was just sad!  Poor Meg needed her own Griffin or Hunter to set her world on fire.  I silently promised to look for the right man to deliver her first hands-free orgasm.

“By the way, do you and Hunter want to join us for dinner at The Stop tomorrow?”

“Sounds good.  Pool tourney?” Ev asked.  The pool shark in her was dying to go for a swim.

“You know it.”

"There are only two tragedies in life: one is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it."  -Oscar Wilde

Wednesday proved to be a continuation of the day prior at Higher Yearning.  Meg and I spent our shift scoring male patrons on their overall appearance, and I enlightened her about the indicators for optimal bed buddies.  I resorted to using the education degree system, in case we were overheard by customers.  So far we’d had a handful with a Master’s and one potential Ph.D., the rest were Bachelor’s or the dreaded GED.  I insisted Meg set her sights on an aesthetic eight or higher with at least a Master’s degree in mattress sciences.  I did concede, however, that a seven with a Ph.D. would be acceptable.  Yes, it was shallow, but our goal was her satisfaction for a tryst…we weren’t husband-hunting.  An entirely different paradigm was necessary for life mates.

Meg felt my benchmark was set too high, which I found comical.  The girl was naturally gorgeous, unassumingly and effortlessly so.  Her straight, chocolate-colored hair had volume without overwhelming her beautiful face, which was a blend of the girl-next-door and a hint of exotic.  Her hazel eyes shone with kindness, balancing her wide, welcoming smile.  She was tall, probably five feet nine inches, and her slim body possessed curves men longed to touch—like a Victoria’s Secret Angel.  Yet, Meg had no clue she was naturally a nine, and with any effort she would be off the charts.  She thought even an eight was too high for her.  It wasn’t that she was insecure, she just didn’t see her appeal the way an objective observer did.

I kept my predictions to myself, but was confident she could land a ten if she exhibited any interest.  Meg was the type of girl who attracted men with her outer shell, but could keep them glued by her inner beauty.  She was the rare girl who could inspire a man to change because she was so damn good.  However, I knew it would be a waste of my breath telling her any of that.  Like most people, she would readily believe every negative comment thrown at her, but would shrug off genuine compliments.  Why was it so much easier to accept the hurtful remarks?  We humans were a messed up lot.

As my shift drew to a close, I realized my gym bag was in the car.  I preferred to change at work rather than the gym’s locker room, so I headed out to grab it.  Dusk had painted the sky a myriad of pinks, purples, and oranges, so breathtaking it caused me to pause and soak in the majesty.  It was these little moments of wonderment I collected to remind myself of the splendor of life. 

I was still marveling at the sunset’s beauty as I approached my car and therefore was unprepared for the black mass that sprang from a crouched position near my rear tire before running past me, nearly knocking me off my feet in the process.  What the hell?  I turned back to my car and noticed the flattened tires.  Whoever that son of a bitch was slashed my tires!  I rounded the far side of the car, only to be greeted by more of the same.  I was going to need another ten sunsets to balance my current anger.  I checked my windshield and sure enough, tucked beneath my wiper was another folded piece of paper.  I snatched the fluttering page and opened it.