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“Now that I couldn’t tell ya. Entertainment purposes? A little added disorientation?”
“She’s already digging through a pile of fake flowers blind-folded!”
“True. But you know…a little extra drama never hurt… made her wobble around more on all fours. Sure you don’t wanna be next?” he asks, shooting his eyebrows up in a suggestive way.
I laugh and elbow him gently in his cavernous ribcage, then boldly interlace my fingers in his and pull him toward the next group. But almost immediately I’m balking again. They’re doing a timed trivia game where you have to come up with the name of an incredibly obscure flower within ten seconds. Personally, I think faster than most under fire. But not tonight. Between the cocktails and the man in the boots, I’m distracted beyond all mental function.
Nonetheless, Bo looks fascinated by the game and stalls to watch for a while.
“Would you like to join us? We’re about to begin a new round,” a woman calls out with a smile and a beckoning hand.
I begin shaking my head, just as Bo responds. “Sure thing, ma’am,” he says. “I think we’re up for a little challenge tonight, aren’t we?” he asks, looking at my apprehensive face.
I smile and nod along, pretending to be a sport. But after she ushers us over and slaps a tacky-ass nametag directly onto my dress, I politely bow out.
“I’ll be your cheerleader,” I assure Bo when he shoots me a disappointed look.
“Suit yourself sweetheart,” he says. “I’m gonna ace this game for ya.”
I grin at him, feeling foolish, wondering why my stomach flutters when he calls me sweetheart. I’ve never been one to respond to traditional pet names, but words have a different sound and meaning when they’re rumbling out of Bo’s mouth.
The woman begins holding up illustration cards, first for the guy competing against Bo and then for him. The other guy struggles through the first three, one right after the other, failing to name them in the allotted time frame, while Bo gets everything right…card after card after card. My jaw is now gaping because, seriously, I’ve never heard of most of these flowers in my life. Apparently Bo is a genius. He must have a photographic memory. How and why anyone would know these freakish flowers is beyond me. Once he gets to The Rothschild Slipper Orchid, I’m so proud that I’m almost teary eyed…yet I feel quite a bit dumber than before. After completing a round of five, they put him up against another contestant…and he proceeds to crucify her as well. Eventually he grows weary of toying with these poor sods, grabs my hand, and retreats back into the crowd. I must look like a bimbo as I stagger away with him in a state of slack-jawed wonder, but then I’m pretty certain everyone else at that table reacted the same way.
The party’s beginning to wind down; the room thinned out a lot while we were immersed. I scan for Maxine until I spot her in the middle of a group of ladies. She appears to be the center of attention…perhaps they’re fans of her now famous headdress. Satisfied that she’s well taken care of, I turn to Bo with a hungry look, wishing he’d drag me away right about now.
Reading my mind, he says the magic words. “What do you say we get on out of here and make ourselves comfortable?” Newly elated, I smile and nod with the enthusiasm of your average everyday hussie.
I don’t exactly want Bo to read me as easy, since I’m not, but I’ve also never before experienced the desire to sleep with someone I just met. I’m inexcusably eager to get alone with a man I can’t even have a relationship with.
“Wanna tell Maxine we’re takin off?” he politely asks.
“Nah, she’ll figure it out. Look at her…she’s having a great time,” I reply, glancing in her direction and finding her well engaged. “Let’s go,” I request with an energetic smile.
Bo interlocks his tremendous fingers in mine, and escorts me out of all the frantic noise and movement. It feels wonderful to be rushing down the halls again, swinging our arms and laughing together. Every moment with Bo makes me feel like I’m about to board a roller coaster…nervously excited, giddy and giggly, thrilled to be terrified.
As soon as the heavy door of his room slams shut behind us, he looks at me like a bull at a rodeo…his body radiating nuclear heat, his nostrils slightly flared. Bo’s level of total focus wipes the smile off my face and causes me to go weak in the knees. He quickly whips off his button-up to reveal the white muscle shirt underneath. Momentarily he fists his hands, causing the bolderous muscles of his arms to tighten and flex. His chest looks like it’s about to rip out that undershirt.
During what has to be a solid minute, Bo inches closer and closer while I inch away…until the backs of my thighs finally hit the mattress. In another second he closes our distance and scoops me into his arms, literally sweeping me off my feet, then gently lays me across his bed like Sleeping Beauty. I find myself flailing in a way that’s alien to me. Hyperventilating from the exertion of my breaths, my arms and legs are writhing with no direction, my mid-body scooting and wiggling downward to scrunch up my dress. I desire Bo with a dysfunctional urgency that defies all common sense.
I watch the way his suit pants stretch and crease over the contours of his leg muscles, as he straddles me and hovers. Staring downward with fire in his eyes, growling just a little…like a lion over its kill. I reach up and run my fingers along the shapes of a gorgeously ornate tattoo sleeve that extends down one arm. It’s floral but decisively manly on Bo, an intricate garden of multiple types of blooms in black ink.
Bo then peels off his tank and tosses it, revealing the full view of his long, toned torso I didn’t get to see during last night’s encounter. My hands trace from his biceps to his moderately-haired chest, then follow the trail down to his hard packed abs. I shiver as I take him in with my eyes, astonished by the way my luck has turned. Once more, I find myself gulping for air as I notice the size of him, pushing against his slacks with barely containable force. I want to keep going with my hands, to get a feel of his incredible fixture, but I resist…waiting in suspense to see what he’ll initiate next.
Chapter 16
Bo
Of all the things I’ve ever accomplished, the decades of physical labor and hard work I put into making the farm somethin my parents would’ve been proud of, I’ve never felt more powerful than I do right now…as I hover over this magnificent woman, Fiona Turner, writhing beneath me in a helpless state of desire. Her face is my inspiration, her eyes my motivation, her body my muse.
As badly as I want to ravage Fiona, all I can do is look at her, mesmerized, and fight off the temptation. I can sense she’s an eager woman; she would not resist if I were to take her. But her mental tightness has her locked into a world where we can’t be together, due to the simple impracticality of it. Of course I know that’s nonsense and two adults can do anything they darn well please, but this conference has hardly been the time or place to work on convincing Fiona of that. And she may not fear the repercussions of a one-night-stand, but I do. There’s already no turnin back for me. I will find a way to get her to see. I’m just not too sure that a full-blown seduction is the right way to secure her sense of attachment. She may act like a wild woman, but everyone with a heart has vulnerability. It’s a delicate situation. I force myself to bail off of her and regain some bearings.
Fiona’s already managed to wiggle her dress skirt up to her hips, leavin her exquisitely shaped legs stretched to the end of the bed. She watches in a state of mild dismay as I walk around to her beautiful, perfectly formed feet and take them into my hands. I could see her disappointment when I got up, but now she’s meltin like butter as I stroke deep into her insteps with my thumbs. Her left leg bears a gold chain that glistens brightly against the skin of her delicate ankle. She closes her eyes and purrs as I take each foot and press it to my lips, kissin my way across her toes and licking her arches. Her increasing gasps and moans make it damn near impossible to resist her, but I’ll stretch this night out as long as I possibly can.
Her dress has worked itself all the way up to the apex of her legs, and I can see the tiniest peak of her panties…a translucent, netlike fabric that slightly reveals the dark tuft of curls beneath it. I’d like to imagine Fiona was anticipatin me when she packed these things, and I have a hunch she was. The skin of her Barbie Doll legs is soft and smooth, supple and ageless beneath my hands, as I stroke up and down the length of her calves and work my way to her thighs.
She looks at me through half closed eyes, her mouth open, her arms splayed out. When I get to Fiona’s hips, I turn her onto one side so my big mitts can access her beautiful derriere. Feelin her muscles melt against the warmth of my fingers, I stroke her languidly through the soft fabric of her dress. My heart pounds as I gaze down at her. She’s all I’ve ever wanted…what more could a man need? Yet I have a powerful intuition that she’s not fully receptive, not ready to give herself to me. And what’s an old boy like me to expect anyway? I’ve been seeing her in visions my whole life, but she’s only just met me. I can tell she’s smitten, but perhaps not enough for me to lay everything I feel and want out on the table in one weekend. I’m gonna have to be more strategic than that. She may seem like no delicate flower, but all women truly are…deep down underneath.
Carefully watchin every response, every nuance of her face, I untie her waist sash and begin to slip the dress upward. She eagerly raises her arms to facilitate me, and I toss it unceremoniously onto the nearby chair…a lovely puddle of white and yellow daisies on a bright blue background. The full site of her body in nothin but underthings, raises my temperature another twenty degrees. Fiona’s wearing a strapless corset-style bra that matches the see-through panties, and she’s givin me a look that says I was intended to see her like this.
