Getting sexy: Obsession / Getting Some / Getting Even

“Hello, ladies,” she practically sings.

If I’m not mistaken, Lishelle has extra pep in her step. And she’s glowing. Yeah, she’s definitely glowing. What the hell happened to make her so happy?

“That must be for me,” Lishelle comments, reaching for the extra mimosa as she sits beside me in the booth. “Perfect.” She takes a sip. She looks from me to Annelise. “Ooh, Annie. That’s a really nice dress. You’re showing a lot of cleavage. That’s not like you.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve got to do something.”

“I don’t follow you,” Lishelle says.

“I’ve been having problems with Charles. In the bedroom. He won’t…well, he won’t touch me with a ten-foot pole, if you want to know the truth.”

“At all?” Lishelle asks.

“At all.”

“I’m so sorry to hear you’re having trouble again.”

“Again?” Annelise laughs without mirth. “It’s been a constant for nearly fifteen months.”

“Fifteen months?”

“Apparently,” I chime, and Lishelle looks at me in surprise. “She only told me a few days ago,” I point out.

“I know you were having trouble before,” Lishelle says, “but I thought you got past that. You haven’t said anything for what, a year?”

“I’ve been too embarrassed.” Annelise then fills Lishelle in on all she told me earlier in the week.

“And Charles,” Lishelle begins, “is he…reacting?”

“I spent five hundred dollars on new clothes, new bras, sexy shoes—and nothing.”

“Wow.” Lishelle reaches across the table and covers Annelise’s hand. “I don’t know what to say.”

“What can you say? I’m starting to wonder if my marriage is in serious trouble.”

“No,” I assure her. “Charles loves you.”

“Every time he rejects me, it chips away at my self-esteem. A little more here, a little more there.”

“How can we help?” Lishelle asks.

“Just be there for me, I guess. Listen to me whine.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Have you talked to Charles about this?” I ask.

“If I even try to talk about why we’re not having sex, he gets upset. Defensive. Sometimes I’ll ask if he’s upset with me or what, and he tells me he’s busy. Stressed. That my impatience is only making him more stressed.”

“I’m sorry,” Lishelle says. “But if he isn’t having sex with you, don’t you think he’s fucking someone else? Let’s face it—what guy doesn’t want to have sex with his wife? You ask me, that’s a neon sign that he’s dipping his cock in another pussy.”

Annelise reels backward, looking absolutely crushed. I shoot Lishelle a glare. She gives me an “I’m sorry” look.

I’ll be honest—the same thought occurred to me regarding Charles screwing around—but I know Annelise isn’t ready to hear that.

I try a more tactful approach. “What if Charles is having some sort of medical problem?” I offer. “That could explain why he’s acting the way he is. Defensive. Standoffish. Unwilling even to hear any talk about lovemaking. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to start something he can’t finish with you.”

“Oh my God.” Annelise’s eyes light up. “Do you think that could be it?”

“It’s a possibility.”

“It would explain a lot,” Lishelle adds. “Let’s face it, you and Charles were the type who couldn’t keep your hands off each other.”

“Which is what makes all of this even harder to deal with.” Annelise sighs sadly.

“Maybe you should ask him about it,” I suggest. “In a point-blank way. Tell him that you love him more than anything, that you’re there for him, and that if he’s having some sort of problem you’ll still be by his side. You know how guys are—they don’t want to admit that they’re having sexual problems. But if you ask if he’s having some sort of problem, and make sure to tell him you’ll support him no matter what…”

“God, I think you’re right,” Annelise says. “It didn’t even occur to me. I figured it was me who did something wrong, and he’d lost interest. My sister suggested I buy sex toys and sexy clothes—none of which has worked. How can it work if he’s got some sort of medical problem?”

“You won’t know for sure until you talk to him,” I point out.

“I’m going to do that. I have to know. If he’s got some sort of medical issue, I’ll feel so relieved. You don’t know how awful I’ve felt, being rejected by the man I love more than anything.” Her eyes began to tear up.

“I can only imagine,” Lishelle says. I catch the look that I hope Annelise missed—one that says Lishelle isn’t convinced Charles’s problems are medical.

“Enough about me and my problems in the bedroom.” She’s more composed now. “Tell us the latest with the wedding plans, Claudia. Four weeks away!”

I groan. “I’m so stressed.”

“Honey, why? You’ve got that great wedding planner.”

“But there are still a million things to be done. And Adam is seeming less and less interested.”

“When I got married, David was the same way. Could care less about the plans. And the closer we got to the big day, the more he seemed disinterested. I think guys can only handle so much talk about cakes and dresses and food courses. They want to go on the honeymoon already.”

“Charles was actually very helpful, and very interested in all the details—and even he freaked out once and told me he didn’t want to hear another word about colors or food or anything more to do with wedding plans. You remember—that was the weekend he took off and went to Macon to go fishing with his brother.”

I crack a smile. I do remember. And I remember how unhappy Annelise was at the time, how she seemed on the verge of having a breakdown.

Is that the kind of bride I’ve become? Uncool, uncalm and uncollected?

“In other words,” I begin, “you both think I’m freaking out over nothing.”

Annelise and Lishelle nod in unison.

“It’s just the way guys are,” Lishelle points out.

“Okay. I’ll try not to lose my head over this stuff. I have to go to New York on Tuesday for another fitting, and after that, my gown should be ready.” Nerves tickle my stomach. “Wow. I can’t believe May twenty-seventh is coming so soon!”

“And your thirtieth birthday.”

“I’ve all but forgotten about that.”

“We were thinking to take you out that night,” Annelise says. “Do a stagette-slash-birthday-party thing.”

“Before you know it, you’ll be a married woman, on a beach somewhere fucking your brains out.”

I can’t help but crack a smile at Lishelle’s comment, however crude. “That’s a nice thought.”

“I might just have to tag along with you,” Annelise jokes.

Little does she know, the way Adam’s behaving now, he might just be down with that.

Lishelle sighs dreamily, and I can no longer wait for her to blurt out the secret she’s hiding. Because I know she’s hiding something. It’s just like her to get all giddy and silent when there’s something she’s not telling.

“All right, Lishelle,” I say. “What is it? Ever since you walked through that door, you’ve been trying to hide this huge grin.”

“I do have something to share, but I’m not sure this is the right time,” she says coyly.

“Of course it’s the right time!” I exclaim. Now I’m dying to know what’s going on with her.

“Not that I don’t want to tell you, but after you’ve both shared not-so-positive stuff, it’ll seem like I’m gloating to share my good news.”

“Enough already,” I tell her. “Spill the beans!”

“You’re seeing someone, aren’t you?” Annelise’s eyes light up. “Oh my God—you crawled out of bed with him just before you came here!”

“Well…”

“Oh my God,” I utter. “You did.”

A guilty smile spreads across Lishelle’s face. “Yeah, I did.”

I couldn’t be more shocked—or more curious. “Last week, you said you were swearing off dating.”

“I know. Believe me, I’m more shocked than anyone to be in a relationship right now.”

“A relationship?” I ask. “What’s going on?”

“Do you guys really want to hear this now?”

“Yes!” Annelise and I exclaim in unison.

“Okay.” Lishelle is really beaming. I haven’t seen her this happy since—

“I’m seeing Glenn again.”

My stomach sinks. “Glenn? As in Baxter?” The guy who only knows how to hurt you?

“Yes,” Lishelle gushes. “And I know what you might think, but this is it, ladies. Finally it.”

Annelise squeals with excitement. I reach for my mimosa and take a huge sip.

“How did this happen?” Annelise asks.

“He called me Friday night at the station. I didn’t want to, but I went to see him. And we clicked, like we always do. Then, the next morning, I was upset that I’d fallen into bed with him. We got to talking and he said he’s always loved me, that he wants us to be together.”

“And you believe him?” I can’t help asking.

“I do.”

I finish the last of my mimosa. While I want to be thrilled for Lishelle, I can’t help remembering how Glenn has hurt her in the past.

“I’m so happy for you,” Annelise says. “I know how much you’ve always cared for him.”

“That’s the hell of it. I still love him. Isn’t it insane? That’s the real reason I can’t resist him. It’s not just the sex.”

“You sure about that?” I ask.

She turns to me and nods. “The sex Friday night was off the hook. But Saturday morning, I couldn’t detach my emotions from what had happened. I told Glenn we couldn’t see each other like this whenever he got the itch. That’s when he told me he’s in love with me and wants our relationship to work. He was supposed to leave yesterday afternoon, but there was a last-minute change in his schedule. We hung out like friends the whole day. It wasn’t about the sex at all. Until later, of course,” she finishes with a sheepish grin.

“When it’s time, it’s time,” Annelise comments.

“That’s what I think.”

“Look, it takes some guys a long time. Look at Big in Sex and the City.”

“Exactly,” Lishelle gushes. “I always wanted Carrie to end up with Big.”

“Oh, me, too.”

Maybe Lishelle notices that I’m not saying anything, because she suddenly turns to me. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“Me? I’m not…I’m not thinking anything. Just enjoying…” I look at my empty glass. “I need another mimosa. Aren’t they great?”

“Don’t change the subject. You’re thinking that I’m making a mistake. And I hear you. I know why you think that. But this time, it’s different. This time, it’s real.”

I squirm in my seat, sip water and do my best to stay silent. I fail. “You know I love you, Lishelle, and I want what’s best for you, but how can you forget how Glenn has hurt you in the past? I mean, you were dating the guy for two years in college, then you found out he’d been screwing other women. Not just one. Plural. How can you ever trust him?”

“For one thing, college was ten years ago. We were both young. Far too young to be involved in such a serious relationship. You have to admit that.”

“But—” I interject.

“But…enough time has passed for us to mature and know what we really want. We’re in our thirties now, for God’s sake.”

“Once a cheater, always a cheater,” I mumble.

“Claudia,” Annelise says in a tone that indicates I should chill. “Can’t you try to be happy for Lishelle?”

“Yes, please.” Surprisingly, Lishelle isn’t annoyed as she looks at me. She’s still beaming, like a girl in love for the first time. “Just trust me. I know this is right.”

A ragged sigh escapes me. “Okay. I will.” It’s not like I can tell her what to do. “And if you’re happy, that’s what matters to me most. I just want you happy.”

“I know that.” Lishelle gives me a soft smile as she reaches for her drink.

“I guess we’ll be seeing him again,” I say, “if this is serious.”

“Next weekend. I’ve invited him to the charity ball for the Wishes Come True Foundation.”

“Ah.” I wag a finger at Lishelle. “Now I get it. Getting back together with Glenn was all about having a date for the charity ball. Smart.”

“I think she’s onto something,” Annelise agrees, laughing.

“Whatever!” Lishelle shakes her head. “Am I the only one who’s starving here? We haven’t even hit the buffet yet.”

“Sure, change the subject,” I tell her.

We all chuckle as we get up and head toward the buffet.

Chapter Eight

Annelise

As I sit at the desk in my office, I stare at the wall clock, watching the second hand tick by. It’s five minutes after four, and I’m starting to feel like my next appointment isn’t coming. I wouldn’t be surprised. It’s been that kind of day. Two other appointments were no-shows. Potential wedding gigs. The most lucrative of the work I do.

“I can’t make a living like this,” I mutter.

Maybe I need to be doing more advertising. This year, my income has been taking a steady nosedive. The one saving grace is that I’m doing Claudia’s wedding, and her father is paying for a package that’s over ten thousand dollars.

Tick, tock, tick, tock…

The door chimes sing, startling me out of my boredom. Pushing my chair backward, I jump to my feet and force a smile on my face.

In walk a young man and woman, both dark-haired, holding hands and smiling from ear to ear. They can’t be older than twenty-one, twenty-two.

“You must be…” My voice trails off as another man, a Greek God, really, enters behind them. His eyes meet mine, and I feel a zap of raw, sexual desire. It overwhelms me. Leaves me momentarily speechless.

“Sebastian and Helen,” the first man says, moving toward me with his hand outstretched.

I step out from behind my desk. “Right.” I pump the man’s hand, then the woman’s. “So good to meet you both.”

My eyes wander to the man who suddenly has me remembering just how much of a woman I am. A woman with sexual needs not being met.

Earlier, Charles didn’t even notice me in the tight leather pants I bought on Samera’s advice. But this sexy stranger is noticing. And I tell you, it feels amazing.

I offer him a small smile as I say, “If you don’t mind giving me a second to deal with this happy couple—”

“Actually, I’m with the happy couple.”

“Oh.” A nervous laugh escapes me. “I see.”

“My older brother, Dominic,” Sebastian informs me. “He wanted to tag along.”

“No problem.” I glance quickly at Dominic again, and a slow breath oozes out of me when I see that he’s staring at me.

He looks sort of familiar, but from where?

I’m not exactly sure what I’m doing when I slip my left hand behind my back. No, that’s not true. I definitely know what I’m doing. I’m hiding my wedding ring. What I’m not sure of is why.

I clear my throat. “Please. Sit down.”

Sebastian and Helen don’t let go of each other, even as they sit side by side on separate chairs. Dominic stands, perusing the photos on the wall.

“When are you getting married?” I ask Sebastian and Helen.

“September twenty-third.”

I sit behind my desk and jot that information down. Then I go into describing the various packages I offer, starting with the least expensive. “All of the packages are detailed in this brochure,” I add when I’m finished, handing them a glossy full-color brochure that cost a small fortune to produce. “But don’t feel that these are set in stone. I’m willing to tailor a package specifically to your needs. You can use this as a guide and tell me what changes you’d like to make, if any.”

“You do all these photos?” Dominic asks, glancing at me over his shoulder.

Damn, he’s got a nice ass. Honestly, I can’t remember seeing a butt that looked so cute in a pair of Levi’s.

“Yes,” I answer. “I took all the photos.”

“I love this one,” Dominic goes on, fingering the silver frame of a black-and-white photo of a naked and sleeping baby.

“That’s one of my favorites,” I tell him, pleased.

A quick look at Sebastian and Helen and I see that they’re still evaluating the various packages. So my gaze wanders back to Dominic. He grins at me.

Now I know I’m desperate, because that simple and sexy grin has my vulva pulsing. I’m actually shocked. I don’t ever remember feeling this kind of immediate carnal attraction even in the early days with Charles.

And yes, he does look familiar. Where have I seen him before?

For the sake of my sanity, I have to look away from him. I shift uncomfortably in my seat as I face the young couple once again. “Do you have any questions?”

Helen shakes her head. “Not really. Obviously, you’ll do both black and white and color.”

“If you like.”

“Oh, I know,” Helen quickly says. “How much of a down payment do you need?”

“Depending on the package you choose—and you can change your mind anytime before the big day—I ask for twenty percent up front.”

I watch Sebastian’s and Helen’s faces for a reaction. Helen worries her bottom lip.

“Or you can give me ten percent when you secure the booking, if it’s easier, and the final ten percent thirty days before the wedding. Just let me know.” I pause. I hate when the couple isn’t saying much. I always feel as if I’ve lost them.

But, the last thing I want to do is pressure anyone. I don’t believe in the hard sell, though Charles says I should. He tells me all the time that I’d make more money if I were a bit tougher.

But that’s not me. “Take your time,” I tell Helen and Sebastian. “Look around the studio if you want. I have sample albums you can go through, as well. No pressure.”

“We’ll take a look around, but we already know we want you,” Helen says. “We’ve heard such great things about your work. And the photos you have displayed speak for themselves.”

Yes! But I keep my cool and say calmly, “Why, thank you.”

“We can’t leave a deposit right now, though,” she continues. “We’d like to figure out the package we’ll go with, then come back and leave a deposit.”

This is the point where some photographers get aggressive to try to secure the deal, by insisting that a client at least leave some money down. But I hate to scare anyone away, even though I know I might never see them again.

So I say, “Whenever’s convenient. Just give me a call.”

“Thanks so much,” Sebastian says. “It’ll be later this week, or early next week, when we can bring the deposit.”

“There’s always the chance that someone else might come in wanting me for the same date, so for now, I’ll mark your wedding date down. I’ll see you by next week?”

“Yes,” Helen answers.

“I look forward to it. And congrats on your nuptials.” Sebastian and Helen get up and start for the door. I get up, too. Dominic, who’s still checking out my pictures, doesn’t even realize that his brother is ready to leave.

“Yo, Dom,” Sebastian calls out.

Dominic whirls around. “You ready?”

“Uh-huh.”

It’s like an invisible bat hits me hard when Dominic looks at me again. I can’t help wondering why he bothered to tag along with his brother for this visit.

“Did you have any questions?” I ask him. There’s a part of me—a big part—that doesn’t want him to leave yet.

He shakes his head. “None.”

“Okay.” So he’s Mr. Mysterious.

“I think Dom is bored and needs to get a life,” Sebastian tells me. He turns to Dom. “When was the last time you were on a date?”

So he’s single…

And you’re married. Don’t even let yourself go there.

Despite what I tell myself, I do my best to hide my ring as I see them all to the door. I know nothing will come of this, but at least I have someone to think about when I masturbate. Thinking about Charles usually doesn’t work for me anymore, because it’s hard to get off fantasizing about someone who doesn’t fucking want you.

Sebastian and Helen are unable to let go of each other, as if the very act of releasing hands for even a moment would be physically painful. I watch them, feeling a lump form in my throat as I reminisce about my courtship with Charles, how he was the same way, always touching me, always giving me soft kisses on the cheek.

Always letting me know I was loved.

I can’t stand thinking of Charles right now, so I let my gaze wander over Dominic’s tall, muscular frame.

He’s almost out the door when he turns back to smile at me. I smile, too, and wave.

And then he’s gone. The door clicks shut.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I whirl around, close my eyes. Dominic and I barely spoke, yet the way he looked at me has left me feeling like his hands have caressed every inch of my body. My vagina is still pulsing, and my panties are wet.

Is this what Samera meant when she said that dressing sexy makes you feel more sexually alive? If so, then I’m amazed.

The sound of door chimes has me whipping around. There he is again, smiling that charming smile that makes me so hot.

I swallow. “Hi. Did you forget something?”

Dominic walks the few steps toward me. “Actually, I realized I couldn’t leave until I came back in to ask you something.”

My heart slams against my rib cage. What could he possibly want to ask me? Something personal? Of course he won’t ask something personal. He’s thought of something he didn’t ask about my services.

“I knew you’d think of something,” I joke.

He withdraws his wallet, takes out a card. He extends his hand, like he’s going to pass it to me, but instead asks, “Do you have a pen?”

“Yes.” I head to my desk, aware that my walk is different. Sexier. Liberated.

Even the way I stretch forward to reach for the pen, lifting one foot that’s in a cute sling-back as opposed to a comfortable flat shoe, is deliberately orchestrated to tease.

Really, what am I doing here?

I pass Dominic the pen.

“This is my card,” he tells me as he scribbles something on the back. “My office and cell numbers are on the front. And on the back is my home number.”

I scan the card as he passes it to me. “You’re an architect.”

“Yep.”

“Impressive.” Even more impressive, he’s given me every possible way to reach him.

“It’s all right. I work for myself. Have an office at my home. I’m not part of some big architectural firm. That way, I can set my own pace and do the projects I want.”

“I completely get you on that one.”

There’s a glint in his eye, one I haven’t seen in a long time but recognize immediately. It’s hunger. Lust. Lust for me.

“You don’t remember me, do you?”

I knew he looked familiar. “Should I? Have we met before?”

“Well, kind of. A couple of weeks ago. In a store not too far from here.” He chuckles softly. “A Little Naughty?”

Oh my God, I could die! The hottie when I was checking out. My face flames.

“No, no,” Dominic quickly says. “Don’t be embarrassed.”

“Too late.”

“I only mentioned it because I thought you…thought you might have remembered seeing me.”

I can’t meet his eyes. “You did look familiar. I couldn’t remember from where.”

“Please don’t feel bad. And I’d love it if you looked at me. You have the most incredible blue eyes.”

My pulse is in overdrive as I lift my gaze to his. “There,” he says. “I love those eyes.”

Butterflies tickle my stomach. But I don’t say anything. I don’t know what to say.

Dominic is the first one to speak. “Let me ask this before I lose my nerve. I’m hoping we can get together for coffee sometime.”

“Coffee?”

He nods. “Or dinner. Something else…”

Something else. I’d be a moron not to know what he’s talking about.

Am I a moron for being attracted to him? Or worse, am I a dirty whore?

But how can I not be attracted to him? I’m so starved for sex from my husband that the first sexual interest in me from an attractive male has me turned on.

It’s only natural.

But I can’t cheat on Charles.

“I don’t know…”

“Don’t tell me no. Just think about it.”