Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
You are party animals, he replies. But really, what are your big plans?
I’m actually excited to share them with him. I’ve done a lot of research to make sure Kate and I hit up all the best spots this weekend. I feel like I’m hopelessly unhip, so it’s become like a little research project for me. Back when I was waitressing, I never had enough money to go anyplace cool; I just went to the local whole-in-the-wall bars around my neighborhood. But tonight, we are going all out. $20 drinks. Live DJ. Appetizers that all have one ingredient too many and one ingredient I’ve never heard of before.
Check this out and tell me what you think. I send him a link to the club I chose, Le Bain, a popular club at The Standard hotel in the meatpacking district.
As I wait for his reply, I shimmy into my silver cocktail dress. It looks amazing. Better than it did when I bought it in college. I guess all that swimming is really paying off. I open my nightstand drawer and start digging around for two earrings that match. Luckily the only pair I find suit my look perfectly. Thin gold hoops with small turquoise beads. I decide to leave my hair down because the only hairstyles I know how to do are messy buns or brushed. So brushed it is.
Ping.
I walk over to my laptop and see WildCaptain’s message:
What are you, a rockstar? Pretty swank, but I know you’ll be the hottest one there.
You’re a charmer tonight. Well I’m glad it passes the WildCaptain test. I imagine you only go to the hippest places on your world travels.
“Weaver? Are you ready yet? You’re already gorgeous, get your ass out here.” I hear Kate’s voice calling from down the hallway.
“Finishing touches. I’ll be right out!” I call back.
Gotta run. Kate’s up and ready to P A R T Y! Chat soon. xoxo
As soon as I hit send, I regret that xoxo. What the fuck was I thinking? I’ve never done that before. I mean, the guy has seen all of me lots and lots of times, an xoxo isn’t exactly amping up the intimacy, but why did I do it? I once hung up the phone with the dentist and said, “I love you.” Is the xoxo just a weird social hiccup like that? This situation with WildCaptain is getting murkier and murkier
“Weaver, these cocktails need to be sipped yesterday!”
“Coming,” I say, leaving my laptop and xs and os behind.
Kate is in the kitchen in a cocktail dress of her own. By the looks of it, it’s from Paris. Dark blue silk, with dramatic lapels. Kate look sophisticated and refined. Right off the Paris runway.
“Oh la la,” I whistle when I see her. “Très, très chic, mademoiselle.”
“Cut it out,” she laughs, punching me lightly in the arm. “You have to taste this. It’s a specialty cocktail I’ve been serving at L’Arc en Ciel. Let’s call it L’Orgasm. It’s that good.”
She hands me a tall, deep purple drink, garnished with thin slices of apple and lemon. I take a sip. It’s spiced with cinnamon, clove and maybe ginger. It tastes like winter. And it tastes like vodka. A lot of vodka. It is delicious.
“This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” I tell her. And it’s the truth. “L’Orgasm doesn’t disappoint. My panties are wet. You never did well in any of our libation classes. Picking up new skills?”
“Well, it so happens the bartender I hired is a pretty good teacher,” she says, taking a sip. I notice a slight blush on her cheeks.
“Kate?” I say. “Dish.”
“Well, his name is Perry and he is very, very fine. That’s not why I hired him, of course, but it does make it more fun to hang out at the bar when he looks so good.”
“And…?” I prod. “That’s the whole story of Perry the hot bartender?”
“Unfortunately, yeah,” she laughs. “I have no time for dating. Business south of the border is closed until further notice. And I’ve never executed a successful one-night stand. Maybe you can give me some tips.” She winks at me in the most adorable way.
“Tips from me?” I say. “The only action I’ve seen in months is when my doorman accidentally brushed my ass when he was helping me into a cab. And he’s seventy. What makes you think I could be your one-fuck-and-done mentor?”
“Weaver, we all saw you leave my restaurant with Chris. And even though you are every ounce a lady and didn’t give me details, well I know there’s only one thing to do with a man that looks that fine. And it’s not crossword puzzles.”
Oooh, Paris. My “last-hurrah” sexy stranger, Chris. It feels like a lifetime ago, walking down the twinkling Paris street that night with Chris. From the moment he and I left Kate’s restaurant, until the next morning when I slipped out of bed and left him behind, I had a smile plastered on my face. It seemed that night like the universe was giving me a tremendous gift, a wonderful memory that would fuel me for a year of solitude and hard work. It was a gift. A sexy gift of kisses, and nips, and slow touches. A gift I’ve savored ever since, remembering him fucking me in that small Paris studio, my breasts pressed up against the window, the lights along the Seine spread out in front of me like I was in a movie.