He was peckish but didn’t want to eat if she was feeling nauseated. When she’d suggested smoothies he’d leapt at the idea. It concerned him that she’d thrown up both her breakfast and brunch. How the hell did pregnant women get any nourishment if they were vomiting up everything all the time? He didn’t want to have to explain why his new bride had been hospitalized on their honeymoon for fuck’s sake.
Their honeymoon. Grey wanted to groan out loud but managed to suppress the urge. What in hell would they do all week? He’d toyed with the idea of dropping Maggie off and letting her have a week of vacation on her own, but he knew his mother well enough to know she’d check up on them. She’d expect to see on their bill that they’d eaten at the restaurant and visited the spa and ordered lots of poolside drinks and room service, lots and lots of room service for two. And with the way Maggie could barely manage to even eat like a bird he figured he’d better stick around and do his part and order the appropriate amounts of food and drink and other things that would help their mini vacation pass, on paper, as a romantic getaway.
His mother had winked and told him that the Manager of the resort was an old friend of hers, as was the Daytime Concierge, so he shouldn’t hesitate to ask for anything his heart—or Maggie’s heart—desired. So he was trapped. He needed to go, and stay, and be there, and pretend to be having a great little honeymoon. For his mother’s sake.
He felt a powerful surge of rancor toward Maggie that seemed to make his bones vibrate. He could use a drink.
He saw the sign for the next exit and quickly glanced over the advertized eateries.
“The next exit has a smoothie place.” He felt triumphant. He hadn’t been confident that they’d be able to locate one and the sight of the pink and yellow sign served as a balm for his stormy mood. Maybe he was hungrier than he thought.
He glanced at her and she gave him a sweet smile. His brain seemed to slow down, jam-up. How could such a life-sucking bitch be so fucking adorable? He dragged his eyes from her earnest little smile and made himself focus on driving.
What the fuck were they going to do with themselves all week?
He checked the gas gauge. He’d filled up at the last stop and he still had just over half a tank so he decided to head right for the smoothie place. “The bathroom’s probably nicer here.” He commented as they pulled up to the brightly colored little building.
She laughed. “It would almost have to be.” She said playfully.
He got out and went around to open her door for her but she was already stepping out. He offered her his hand, a gesture which gave her pause. “I’m not that pregnant yet.” She said with a small laugh. “I can manage.”
He pulled his hand back awkwardly. He hadn’t been doing it because of her condition, he realized, he’d been doing it because it was the right thing to do. Because his father never failed to do it for his mother. He shoved his hand into his pocket and silently cursed himself and his Dad with equal venom.
“Thanks though.” She said as she closed the car door. She looked like she regretted saying anything.
“No problem” he covered smoothly. “Do you know what you want? I can order while you’re in the rest room.”
“Um.” She looked thoughtful as they walked to the door. Automatically he moved ahead and pulled it open for her. They looked at eachother for a minute and she laughed. “Thanks.” She said and crossed into the smoothie shop. Fuck. He liked the sound of her laugh. He didn’t want to like it at all. “No, I can’t decide.” She said, a little antsy as she stared at the overwhelming menu that hung over the smoothie bar.
“Go ahead,” He said, nodding toward the sign for the restrooms “You won’t be able to think about it with a full bladder.”
She flashed him a genuine smile and scooted toward the bathrooms. He watched her disappear behind a bright pink door before turning his attention to the menu above the counter. He stood there, running his eyes over the cutesy names of blended drinks and sincerely wished they might add vodka or rum to his.
“D’you know what you want?” Piped a high, sweet voice from behind the counter. Grey’s eyes fell from the description of a “Funkee Munkee” and he saw the teenage girl to whom the voice belonged. She was smirking at him and her eyes were rapacious. He swallowed. His pulse quickened. And he smiled a very charming smile.
“What do you recommend?” He asked in a liquid baritone, his eyes narrowing just a little his smile deepening handsomely.
The girl tossed her hair over one shoulder and then the other, arched her back to better display her small, perky tits and bit her lower lip in an exhibit of deliberative pondering. Grey’d put her at about seventeen. At most. Maybe sixteen. But he knew immediately that she wasn’t a virgin. And he knew she wanted him. Which was appealing.
“Do you like cherries?” She asked doing a slow blink and fixing him with a meaningful stare.
Oh, subtle, he thought and squashed his instinct to roll his eyes. “Very much.” He answered smoothly, but lightly. He stepped toward the counter as she leaned over it just enough to show what cleavage she possessed to better advantage.
“There’s a Berry Cherry Surprise that’s really really good.” She said in a kittenish purr.
“What’s the surprise?” He heard himself asking her reflexively, in a low, playful tone.
“Maybe you should taste it and find out.” She said brazenly and smiled wickedly.
He knew, in that moment, that he could have her. That she would take her fifteen minute break on the spot and let him fuck her in the back of his BMW or up against the wall in the rest room.
She looked him up and down and then cocked an eyebrow at his hands. “Is that a wedding ring?” The idea seemed to enflame her open desire rather than douse it.
He looked down at his hands and was a little startled to see he’d been absently spinning the band on his left ring finger with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. He wasn’t used to jewelry.
“It is.” He said, more to himself than to her as he gazed at the plain gold band. It wasn’t at all to his taste, as far as wedding rings went. He’d walked into the jewelers asked for a standard pair and walked out with this traditional thing and the smaller, matching one for her finger. He’d had to guess at the size on hers.
“You seem kinda young to be married.” She flirted shamelessly. He heard another girl giggle in the back where she was wiping down surfaces with a damp rag. On another day he might have tempted them to put out the “Back in Ten Minutes” sign and had a quickie threesome with them both right there in the store. He stared at her, his smile lopsided now.
Had she seen him come in with Maggie? He believed she had seen, had watched him walk in with someone, and yet she still came on to him relentlessly. He realized he behaved the same way when he saw something he wanted. He’d walked out of parties with other men’s dates more than a few times in his life and hadn’t given it a second thought. He enjoyed it, in fact.
The girl looked over at the sound of the squeaking hinges of the pink bathroom door and then flicked her eyes back at Grey suggestively. “So what can I get for you sir?” She asked, not bothering at all to change the bedroom quality of her little-girl voice.
Grey stared at her for a long moment, even after he felt Maggie approach and come to rest by his side. He openly ran his gaze down her slim, barely-ripening body and had a fairly good idea of what she’d look like underneath that horrible pink polyester uniform that she’d pulled tight and pinned in the back in an effort to make it look more stylish, more cute. He lifted his eyes back to her face then and decided she was wearing far too much eye makeup. Decided that the fuck would be quick and eager but not terribly satisfying. Decided that there would be nothing remotely surprising or even interesting about her when she spread her legs for him. He might as well jerk-off if he wanted that kind of release.
Still holding the girl’s gaze he spoke to Maggie: “Anything look good to you here?” He asked.
Maggie didn’t speak right away. “Does anything look good to you?” She responded in a tight voice.
“Not as good as I thought it would.” He said with a smirk at the girl across the counter. “I’m not sure the fruit is fresh enough here.”
The girl’s mouth dropped open.
He smiled charmingly and then turned to Maggie. “How does a milkshake sound instead?” He asked her. He wanted to get out of there.
She looked at him for half a moment, then looked back at the girl. “Do you have milkshakes?”
“Yeah, we do.” The cloying little voice answered a tad flippantly.
“Maybe a vanilla milkshake.” Said Maggie uncertainly.
“You should add the protein shot for fifty cents.” Said the girl in a tone that made Grey’s skin crawl.
“Oh, should I?” Asked Maggie artlessly, turning to look at Grey.
“Yeah, every woman should get a good protein shot.” Said the girl snidely.
Grey reached over and took Maggie’s hand firmly in his own. He couldn’t say why the girl’s heavy-handed innuendo had made him so angry but it had. “I saw an ice-cream parlor a block back.” He said decisively. “Let’s go.” He shot a brutal glare at the little slut when he reached the door—he was inexplicably furious with her for speaking that way to Maggie and it took all his self control not to say something insulting and he held the door open for his wife. Maggie sailed by him with a murmured ‘thanks’, an expression of mild bewilderment on her face.
“Have a nice day.” The girl said in a tone that belied the sentiment.
Grey exited without another word and lengthened his stride so that he would reach Maggie’s car door before she did. He held it open for her and closed it gently after she’d settled herself within. He groaned quietly as he walked around to the driver’s side of the BMW. What the fuck was he going to with himself for a week?
No comments:
Post a Comment