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“Oh, nothing. Just a good weekend.” A perfect weekend. The best weekend of my life, actually.
She points at me with her manicured finger. “Me and you. Tomorrow. Gym and brunch. I won’t take no for an answer; I need the deets on this new mystery man.”
“Who says there’s a man?” I deflect, popping a piece of nicotine gum in my mouth.
“Nobody wears a turtleneck unless they’re hiding a hickey,” she informs me. “And they’re in high school.”
I stick my tongue out at her.
“You’re proving my point for me.”
I flip her off. “Better?”
She nods. “Much.”
“Fine, I’ll meet you at the gym tomorrow at ten.” If anything, I need to get in better shape to keep up with Fabio; the man’s stamina is something else.
“There’s that dreamy smile again. Spill,” Taylor demands.
“You gonna strong-arm me into working out, then you can wait for the juicy stuff when I have a mimosa in hand,” I inform her, walking to the door.
“You tease,” she calls after me.
I drive home and unlock my apartment. My nose catches a whiff of something delicious, and I flip on the light. There’s a takeout bag on the kitchen counter. Walking over, I pull out containers from the bag that has Fabio’s restaurant logo, along with a note.
Something came up at work. I’m sorry I can’t make our lessons tonight. Eat, and get some sleep, Kitty Kat. I’ll play with you soon.
~ Fabio
While the pressing question is how he got inside my condo, that doesn’t concern me as much as the sinking feeling in my stomach. Which is ridiculous. The man runs AC for the Parisi family; it’s not exactly a nine-to-five job, and I’m sure things “come up” all the time. But I can’t deny my disappointment.
That’s why I got so pissy about him disappearing from the beach house: I’m afraid he’s going to pull a Houdini, except with my heart.
Sighing, I dig into the pasta I told Fabio was my favorite. I take it back: maybe the man’s already pulled one.
The next morning, I stretch my arms over my head and wince; I’m still sore as hell from my weekend with a sexy Italian. Annoyed that I’m thinking of him first thing in the morning, I decide to make my problem his problem.
I strip out of my tank top and panties, setting the photo timer on my phone before crawling naked onto the bed on my hands and knees.
My picture’s snapped, and I scramble off the bed to check it out. At this angle, you can’t see my face due to my extremely unruly hair, but it’s a nice little peek at my nipple and part of my ass. I send it to Fabio, along with a message.
Thanks for taking care of your pet’s needs last night. Kitty Kat just wishes her owner were here this morning to take care of her other needs.
There. Busy or not, now he’ll be thinking of me.
Damn, Katerina. How am I supposed to work with a raging hard-on? I’m whipping that naughty pussy the next time I see you.
Didn’t know I’d be into that, and yet here my pussy’s tingling at the threat. Smiling, I text my reply.
Promises, promises.
He replies immediately.
I’ve gotta go before I nut all over myself.
Wait, send me a pic.
Turnabout’s fair play, after all.
