The Cocktail Club (8 page)

Like that sometimes.

Bet that.

GN.

K. don't hurt nobody.

Can't make any promises on that.

Bet that.

When I saw the smiley face, I felt better about the exchange. Our exchanges were always quick and brief, but still they brought me joy, and I couldn't explain it. I drained my flask, got up from the sofa, and stretched.

I hoped Kevin wasn't too out of it. I needed a serious, toe-curling orgasm, and I didn't want the kind that my battery-operated friends produced.

PETA

I
had done some dumb things, but driving while I was tipsy was one of the dumbest. I wasn't drunk-drunk, but I felt
real
nice. I was probably less than one drink away from a bad situation if I had been pulled over by the cops. As I drove, all of the lights seemed blurry. I could read the street signs as long as I was right up on them. That was not cool, and I knew it.

When I finally turned the corner to enter my subdivision, I let out a huge sigh of relief. Usually, after happy hour, we'd go to another spot like Sugarhill or Club 21. That second spot gave us time to work off the alcohol, but that didn't happen tonight.

I was right on the edge. I felt good, more than a little tipsy. One more drink would've done the trick. That's why I'd have another taste once I made it to the privacy of my own house, but first, I had to make it there in one piece.

Once I got in the car, I had rolled down all of the windows so that the alcohol fumes from my breath wouldn't make me feel sick. The breeze also helped me to sober up as I drove. I even sang along with the songs on the radio.

“I've got to ease up a bit on Thursdays, especially when the party ends at happy hour,” I muttered to myself as I turned onto my cul-de-sac. Relief washed over me. I was home, safely.

I hiccupped hard and loud as I turned the car onto my street. I
brought it to a sudden, but careful, stop right before I swung into my driveway to find Kyle's car parked there.

“What in the hell?”

Visions of the last knockdown, drag-out verbal brawl with Kyle came to mind. He was pissed merely because I chose to go to happy hour, instead of having what he considered an important discussion. As I eyed his car, it pissed me off even more. I had told him time and time again not to pull into my driveway when I wasn't home.

He knew damn well that he had no parking privileges, but he simply didn't want to listen. If he thought discussing his important issue tonight was a good idea, I had news for him. I cursed as I threw the car into reverse, and backed up. I had to settle for a spot on the street. Now, I was really pissed. My high-heeled shoes were never made for actual walking, especially while drunk.

After I parked, I rolled up the windows, and turned off the car. I sat for a moment, trying to get my mind right. My heart raced as anger burned deep inside me. I was in no mood for the fight I realized awaited me.

I didn't understand how Kyle could spend so much time at our house without his woman having a fit. If he had focused on home like this while we were married, maybe we'd still be together. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, and shook me to my core.

I grabbed my purse, and fumbled my way out of the car. When I hiccupped again, I nearly lost my balance. I dropped back against the car, and swallowed the bile that threatened to come up. The cool, fresh air felt good, but it reminded me of how much I had overdone it. After a few minutes, I found my balance and attempted to make my way up the shrub-lined walkway that led to my front door.

On Thursdays, Kendal knew to leave the porch light on. I generally came home tipsy, and would struggle to find the right key in the dark. I was disgusted when I staggered to the door, and realized it was pitch dark.

“Shit!”

I stumbled a bit as I pulled my bag open, and rummaged through all of the junk inside. It was hard since I couldn't see a damn thing!

“Shoot, dammit! Hate big purses! Where are the doggone keys?”

There was no question. I was pissy-assed drunk, and mad as hell. I couldn't find the damn keys!

I felt like crying until my front door suddenly creaked open.

“This shit has got to stop!” Kyle whispered angrily, through gritted teeth. The low, sensual sound made my insides tingle. Instead of allowing me inside, he squeezed through the opening, stepped outside, and pulled the door closed behind him. “Do you realize how drunk you are?”

I wanted to say,
“Yeah, mofo, what do you think I was doing at the door? Playing with myself? Of course I was drunk, but your bitchin' is about to mess up my high.”
Instead, I held my tongue, and thought before I spoke.

“Ain't nobody drunk!” I said.

Unfortunately for me, my denial sounded more intoxicated than I actually felt. I quickly pulled my hand up to my lips, but that did nothing to stop another hiccup. Kyle grasped my arm, and pulled me close.

“What kind of example you setting for our daughter? You leave her every week to go get drunk and rowdy with your trampy girls! I'm tryna tell yo' ass that ain't a good look.”

Even though he hadn't raised his voice, the heat of his breath assaulted my face, and his sharp words cut deep. I wanted to reach out, and slap the shit out of him, but I'd probably lose my balance
and wind up on the ground.

“You don't own me; you can't tell me what the f-f-fuck to do anymore!” It was a weak comeback, but it was the best I could do.

“I don't want to own you! My daughter is looking at you to teach her how to become a woman, and the shit you showing her right now is foul!”

His face was so close to mine that I smelled the mint from his breath. I shuddered at the thought of what mine must've smelled like.

“You drinking and driving and shit! What if you were pulled over?”

I stared at him, and cocked an eyebrow.

“I ain't drunk!” I tried to jerk away from him, but lost my balance, slipped, and nearly fell. Kyle grabbed me. And maybe it was the way he clutched me even closer, but something in me stirred again.

He had to have felt it, too. The next thing I knew, his mouth cupped mine, and our tongues began a vigorous wrestling match. My heart raced. I couldn't get enough of his taste, so I sucked and sapped like his mouth held the key to all of my problems.

We kissed and sucked. He reached behind his back, and opened the front door. We stumbled into the house, and picked up right where we'd left off.

This time, I didn't want to pull back from the kiss. I didn't want him to see the lust that burned in my eyes. That was the thing about Thursday nights. When I got drunk, and sometimes even just tipsy, I'd get horny as hell. Sure, I had done some questionable things, and all of it could be blamed on the alcohol. It made everything feel that much better.

Kyle pulled away, and eyed me for a second. I felt so naked as his eyes bore into me. I didn't know if the look on his face was regret, disgust, or plain lust.

“Listen, Kyle—” I was breathless.

“Shhh!” He put a thick, sausage-like finger to his lips. Then he pointed toward the ceiling, indicating that Kendal was asleep in her bedroom upstairs. We needed to be quiet.

“C'mon,” I whispered.

“Where're we going?”

“Follow me.” I stepped out of one shoe, then eased off the other as I led him toward the hallway. I opened the door, and tugged him in by the arm.

“In the damn bathroom?” he asked.

“Shhh!”

Once inside, I kissed him more aggressively, and yanked at my top. The moment I pulled out my left breast, he pounced like a magnet drawn to metal. When he reached down and tugged, seemingly about to unbuckle his pants, I raised my hand to stop him.

“Leave 'em on,” I whispered, and grinned wickedly.

“W-w-what?”

I grabbed his waist and pulled him closer. My heart raced with anticipation as I unzipped his fly, and dug in to feel his stiffness. His dick felt magnificent. It was warm and hard as it throbbed in my hand. It was as if it had a mind of its own. “Here. Sit on the toilet. You got a condom?”

Kyle could've been a magician. Out of nowhere, a gold and black Magnum wrapper appeared. That, plus no mention of whatever the hell he wanted to discuss earlier, and I was in heaven.

IVEE

“I
am such a filthy slut!” I declared, and cracked up with laughter into the phone. My head still hurt a little from cocktails the night before, but it was nothing major. When we went hard on Thursday nights, I usually worked from home the following day. Last night was minor compared to the way we usually got down, but I needed to play it safe anyway.

“What did you do? And when did you do it? We wrapped up early last night,” Peta reminded me.

“Well, let's just say it ain't always how much time you've got, but how wisely you use it. Last night was a perfect example of maximizing limited time to the fullest.”

“Umph, well, I don't want a damn summary. I want details, so get to dishing,” Peta said.

Before I could start the story, my other line rang. I rolled my eyes, and sighed heavily. It was the office. I had already told Jessica that I would be working from home, so I didn't understand why anyone would call me.

After about the third ring, I told Peta we'd have to catch up later.

“Girl, it's work, but I'm gonna get with you. Maybe we can do lunch or something like that. I gotta take this call.”

“Ivee Henderson,” I greeted. I did nothing to hide my irritation until the voice rang out in my ear.

“Ivee, this is Geneva JoHarris.”

My motor skills and reflexes weren't as sharp as they normally were. That quickly changed. At the sound of her voice, my spine instantly stiffened. Without even trying, my body snapped to full attention.

“Uh, Geneva? Hi, how can I help you?” I hoped my voice sounded professional enough. Instantly, my eyes scanned the room for any files that were near.

“I understand you are working from home today, but I need a face-to-face. If you'd like, we can meet at a restaurant,” she offered.

Geneva was fearless. In the male dominated field of media consulting, she had built both a solid and ruthless reputation. She was known for doing anything necessary to get the job done. Rumor around the office was that she had breastfed a client's infant once, in order to close a deal. When the client brought his screaming kid to a board meeting, nothing would shut the kid up. Each time the father started to say something, he'd stop midsentence to try and stuff the pacifier in the baby's mouth.

According to legend, right after they'd negotiated the terms and length of the contract, the kid's cries filled the room. Geneva snatched the baby, walked outside, and moments later, he was quiet. She and her team left with a signed contract in hand, and the father's complete support. Later, when asked how she had quieted the child, Geneva turned and said he was a breastfed baby, and that a bottle or pacifier wouldn't do.

No one had the heart to ever ask her about that, but that urban legend floated around the industry, and spoke volumes about her dogged determination when it came to closing deals.

Before I could answer the question, Geneva had spoken.

“I'll see you in my office in thirty,” she said.

My mind began to race with all sorts of wild thoughts. Was it
Carson Liam's account? Had I missed anything pending? I rushed to get ready, but all sorts of worst-case scenarios ran through my mind.

Despite feeling severely hung over, I hauled ass, got dressed, and rushed to the office. The moment I got there, I was ushered into Geneva's sprawling office.

Sitting with my back to the door, I didn't even need to turn around to tell she had entered. Her scent always announced her arrival.

Geneva was a tall, statuesque powerhouse. Her mere presence commanded attention everywhere she went. She was one of those women who always looked her very best. Her copper-hued skin looked like she had just received a facial. Her shoulder-length, brunette hair was always slick and in place. Her birth certificate might have put her at sixty-five, but her body, her passion, and poise could rival any forty-year-old.