The American Princess - Best Love Story Ever (39 page)

"At least let me check my messages," she
said. "Maybe a nice man has called me for a date."

He laughed. "Easy now, hurricane Betty-Jo.
Keep thinking about the vow you made to obey me."

"I'm not a hurricane!"

"Perhaps not, but you've reminded me of a
joke."

"And I'm not in the mood for a joke."

"'How is a married woman like a hurricane?'"
She scowled at him. "'In the beginning, there's a lot of blowing
and sucking. And in the end, they take your house away.'"

Annoyed as she was, a smile escaped her. Then
it was retaliation time. "You know, Brad," she said, "people have
the right to be insufferable. But you abuse that privilege."

Brad poured a glass of Earnest and Julio's
finest red, and retrieved her favorite honey and garlic chicken
wings from the fridge. He gave her a sip of wine, and put a chicken
wing up to her lips, but she was only able to get a nibble before
he took it away. "Keep your hands behind your back," he said as she
made a grab for the retreating wing.

"Brad, I want to pose for Playboy. Why don't
you want me to be the December centerfold?"

"Why do you think?"

"I don't know." She tried not to look
petulant.

"Let's come at this from a different angle.
Why do you want to pose for Playboy?"

"I think it would be interesting. That's
all." Of course she knew that 'interesting' was not the real
reason.

"Tawny Cat, the bad girl that was running
around inside you has stopped running. Now she's causing trouble. I
never should have set her free. She's fallen in love with being
loved. When I told you last week that you were responsible for
making thirty million men arrive, your eyes lit up like the lights
on a Christmas tree—the flashing kind. Now you want to get to any
men you may have missed on your first pass."

She hung her head, and bit at her lower lip.
He's right. But how can I admit to something like that? "'Keep
talking Brad.'", she said. "'Eventually you may say something
intelligent.'"

"I'll do my best to say something intelligent
right now. You, soon-to-be Ms Chance-Raiden, have me concerned. You
want to do poor Goldilocks out of a job. Dressed only in your tawny
locks, you want to cavort with the three bares, or perhaps it's
Rudolph's job you're after. You'll be the Tawny Spirit of
Christmas, butt-naked out in front of Santa's sleigh. Why can't you
let the red nosed reindeer guide the sleigh and bring joy to the
little girls and boys? Don't you have enough to do bringing joy to
the big boys on the tennis courts?"

"That's intelligent? Have you taken your meds
today?"

He hugged her. "It's marvelous that you're
having fun turning on America's men, but you can't get carried away
with it. You have to learn to pick your spots, and you have to
develop a better understanding of men."

"I understand—without naming names—that some
men are insufferable!"

Brad laughed at her. "True," he said. "But
the important things that you need to know about men appear to have
escaped you. Men love and want what they can't have. Down at the
local convenience store there are racks of magazines full of
butt-naked women. Sadly, men have tunnel vision when it comes to
naked women. What they want to know is what Betty-Jo Chance looks
like au naturel—how close does the real thing come to their
fantasy? So they send their emissary, Playboy, Penthouse, or any
other men's magazine, to get what they want."

She smiled at Brad. "And they could have it
if you weren't wedded to wuss."

"Playboy is offering you a million bucks. But
you're driving so many men so crazy that I'd be surprised if they
don't up the anti to two or three mill before they give up."

"That's the first intelligent thing you've
said all evening. We'll hold out for more money."

"What doing a spread for a men's mag will
cost you is twenty, thirty, who knows how many millions, from
companies that want you to endorse their products while looking
like a sexy replica of the girl-next-door."

"Let me do the Playboy shoot, and your sexy
girl-next-door replica will give you a nice reward." She moved her
hips suggestively.

"You've been given a golden egg-laying goose,
and you want to trade your goose for a for a few bucks so you can
be naked in a centerfold. Mind you, it's possible that more money
is irrelevant to you. As Hobart Brown said, 'Money doesn't always
buy happiness. People with ten million dollars are no happier than
people with nine million.'"

"That Hobart guy is a laugh and a half."

A Tawny
Exhibitionist

"You know, Tawny Enchantress," Brad said,
"Cupid may be responsible for your exhibitionistic desires. He's
fouled up before."

"What are you talking about?"

"I have a story for you—a story with a
moral."

"I hate stories with morals."

"Even if the moral pertains to you?"

"Especially if it pertains to me."

"Do you know what Cupid did to Echo and
Narcissus?"

"No. But it sounds as if you're about to tell
me, and unfortunately, since I've promised to obey you, you have a
captive audience."

Brad Tom Cruise grinned her. "Cupid was
careless at times. One warm summer's day, he shot one of his arrows
at a pretty nymph named Echo, as she was strolling through the
woods. Then he went off in search for other lovers, forgetting that
he had to find a mate for Echo."

Betty-Jo interrupted. "Reminds me of the time
Cupid fouled up with Psyche, when he pricked himself with his own
arrow."

"Echo had a peculiar affliction. She couldn't
speak until somebody first spoke to her, but once spoken to, she
couldn't remain silent."

"I knew I shouldn't have spoken to you about
the Playboy offer."

He ran his hand over More Fun. "Echo came to
a wide stream. On the other side was a gorgeous eighteen year old
boy named Narcissus—she immediately fell in love with him."

"Like I fell for you?"

"Even quicker. Echo waded across the stream
to declare her love, and her desire to marry Narcissus. But there
was a problem—Narcissus didn't love her."

Betty-Jo frowned. "Cupid is beginning to
annoy me."

"And Echo was beginning to annoy Narcissus.
She was madly in love with him, and refused to leave. Before long,
Narcissus was fed up. 'Go away. Why should I love you?' he shouted.
Echo replied, 'I love you, I love you'. Narcissus yelled back, 'I
would rather die than let you marry me!' Echo echoed his words.
'Marry me, marry me'. The echoing made Narcissus even angrier, and
less inclined to love Echo." Betty-Jo frowned again. "Don't frown,
Tawny Cat." Brad smoothed her forehead with his fingertips. "It
wrinkles your natural beauty."

She gave him an even fiercer frown. "Why do I
get the feeling that your story has an unhappy ending?"

"Because Cinderella isn't in it?"

"Could she be?"

He kissed her, and carried on with his story.
"Fortunately, Cupid remembered that he had neglected to find a mate
for Echo. So back he went, and there was Echo, fawning all over
Narcissus. He, of course, was ignoring her. Cupid quickly shot
Narcissus with one of his arrows, and flew off, satisfied that all
was well."

"And all was well. Narcissus and Echo were
married, and lived happily ever after."

"Hush, Tawny Cat, I'm telling the story. All
was not well. Unfortunately, Narcissus was bending over a pool of
still water when Cupid's arrow found its mark, so the first person
he saw was himself—his own refection in the water."

Fire danced in Betty-Jo's eyes. "Narcissus
fell in love with himself, and you're implying that, like
Narcissus, I've fallen in love with myself!"

He grinned at her. "You've always been a
quick study." She glowered at him. "So do you want to hear the
ending?"

"No!"

"As you've pointed out, vow practicing cat
that you are, you're a captive audience. I think I'll continue.
Echo eventually realized that Narcissus was so in love with himself
that he could never love her. So she left him, and then she died of
a broken heart. She just became thinner and thinner, until all that
remained of her was her echo."

"You have a talent for butchering what could
have been a wonderful love story."

"On occasion, when you shout, you'll hear
Echo reply. She still can't shut up."

"Shut up, shut up!" Betty-Jo echoed.

Brad brushed back her hair, bit her on the
nape of the neck, and carried on with his story. "Narcissus,
meanwhile, couldn't leave the pool, because on days when it was
calm, he could see the love of his life—himself. He also starved to
death."

Betty-Jo made a face at Brad. "Your story
sucks," she said.

He turned her around, and ran his hands over
her. "Look in the mirror," he said. "You are sexy, hot and
wonderful, even more so inside than out. And I'm thrilled that you
like yourself. But there's a potential problem."

"I'm not in love with myself!"

"Not yet. But do you remember when it used to
embarrass you to watch me play with you?"

"You have a point?"

"It doesn't embarrass you now."

The fire was alive and well in her eyes.
"What is this? True Confessions time!"

"No. It's a pendulum that could swing you out
over a pool of still water."

"Where, like Narcissus, I'll fall in love
with myself."

"It won't happen if you remember your bear's
name."

"I Love Only You Brad," said a chastened
Betty-Jo.

"Do you still want to do the centerfold
shoot?"

"No."

"Good—because now I can tell you the real
reason why I don't want you to undress for Playboy. I don't want my
soon-to-be wife revealing to the world what I want exclusively for
myself."

She was pleased for the first time since the
beginning of the centerfold discussion. "So you don't want your
neighbors coveting your ass? That ass being me," she said.

"It's a little late for that. Not only my
neighbors, but almost every man on this planet covets you—ass and
all. There's a poem about a showgirl that describes what I want to
guard against:

Her body was marvelous:

a miracle had fused it.

If I didn't know better, I'd swear that
Joseph March was writing about you. But then he goes on to say:

The whole world had seen it—

And a good part had used it.

It's there that you and the showgirl have to
part company. Only I get to see all of you, and use you."

"You are one self-centered, possessive...

Brad put his hand over her mouth. "Tawny Cat,
I don't want a home with a mutual driveway, so why would I want a
wife with one?"

"You know I don't have a mutual drive! Next
you'll be telling me you don't want a wife with a freeway
either!"

"Only for me. What I want is an express lane,
that only I get to travel."

She smiled a little. "Well that's what you
have."

"Good. But perhaps you should practice your
vow to obey me a while longer. That way I can enjoy watching you
while I get the wine and chicken wings."

* * *

Darn you, Brad, Betty-Jo thought, as she
studied herself in the mirror. Everything she was wearing said
Tawny Cat Chance belongs to Brad: her gold TC—for Tawny
Cat—earrings, her gold wafer necklace, with the T-CAT imprint, her
black velvet choker, Brad's initials in the heart-shaped tattoo
around her beauty spot, and her flawless diamond and emerald
engagement ring. 'A flawless beauty should have a flawless
diamond,' he'd told her.

I'm a Brad Raiden billboard, she thought, a
standing here naked declaration that I love and belong to him. She
suddenly understood that Brad had dressed her—or more accurately,
undressed her—the way he had on purpose. I will always love only
Brad, and give myself only to him. And I do want to be obedient.
But a perfectly obedient Tawny Cat is certain to be a boring Tawny
Cat. I should never have made that vow. I'll bet that even his
hockey stick isn't obedient all the time. Then she came to her
senses. Nobody made you promise to obey him. And you'd better
remember what your daddy taught you—a Tiger who makes a promise, is
a Tiger who keeps a promise.

Payback
Time

"Draper! Please don't hang up. I'm sorry.
You've been so good to me. I know I never deserved you. I won't
call you again, but I need my clothes. May I come over and pick
them up?" Felicity wasn't interested in clothes, but she was very
interested in sleeping with Draper Greely one last time.

"When?"

"Is this evening okay? Say six-thirty?"

"Sure. But make it quick."

"Thank you, Draper."

She arrived at Draper's apartment, dressed as
provocatively as possible, and told the cabby to leave. Draper
opened the door, and favored her with some I'm-too-good-for-you
attitude.

"Why all tarted-up?" he said.

"I have a date at seven-thirty, and I'm
afraid I wont have time to change for it."

"I have a few minutes to kill, so I've
decided to give you a goodbye jump. You'd like that, wouldn't
you?"

She would, but not for any reason Draper
could have imagined. The guy makes pond scum seem inviting, she
thought. "Thank you, Draper. That would be nice."

Draper took her to the bedroom, and had her
kneel on the bed. Then he flipped up her skirt, and yanked down her
panties. "Spread your legs and brace yourself," he said.

I love it when he sweet-talks me, she
thought, as Draper came at her from behind.

When he was finished with her, he shoved her
onto the floor. "It'll be sloppy seconds for your date tonight," he
said.