Page 96 of Touch Me

Brent smiled, that glorious, wonderful smile that made me so happy.

I stood, stepped back into my dress, did up the side zipper, and smoothed down my crumpled skirt. I threaded my halter-neck straps over my shoulders and turned my back to him. “Would you mind?”

Brent’s fingers on my neck drove shivers across my breasts. “You also have wonderful hands,” I said.

“Oh, really? Thank you.”

“You’re going to make some woman very, very happy.”

I gathered my things off the floor and slipped my shoes back on. By this time, Brent had also re-dressed, and he sat on the bed watching me. He rubbed his chin, and judging by the wistful look on his face, he may have thought I was an apparition.

I was happy with that. Maybe he’d remember me forever, too. Satisfied that I had all my bits and pieces, I blew him a kiss. “Have a great day.”

“I will now.”

As I made my way back to my apartment, I could still feel Brent’s marvelous tongue on me and in me. After a long, hot shower, I sat on my bed and reached for my diary.

At the top of the page for 25th March, I wrote Mr. Brent Neilson, room 21 - My Gorgeous Geek. I wrote down all the glorious details of the first full-blown sex I’d had since my fiancé had cheated on me. It was cathartic writing every detail. . . rather like an unexpected waterfall washing away years of caked-on mud.

I also noted the coincidence that the thirteenth man in my sexual journey this year was the man I’d lost my casual-sex virginity to. Ever since I’d moved into room thirteen in the Hot Horizon Hotel, I’d always considered thirteen as my lucky number. This cemented my conviction.

I put my diary back on my bedside counter and went in search of food. I was famished.

I moved out onto my balcony and as I ate a packet of corn chips and celebrated my achievement with an enormous glass of wine, I savored both the memory of my first-ever sex with a complete stranger, and the picture-perfect scene before me.

For three years, I hadn’t felt the touch of a man on my body, and yet so far this year, I’d had thirteen experiences. It was impossible to comprehend the change in my situation.

My life had taken a magnificent turn.

I, Plain Jane, was looking forward to each week and the endless possibilities that may be presented to me.

The corn chips were good. The wine was delicious. My scenery was spectacular.

Life was fucking fantastic.

But the big question was, now that I’d had sex with a complete stranger, should I continue with this crazy challenge?

Or should I quit before my crazy double life gets me into serious trouble?

Chapter Twenty-Six

I knew Savannah’s seventh birthday party would be noisy with twelve squealing seven-year-old girls in one room assaulting my ears. With all those girls and Lolita blasting Singstar music, the noise became downright torture.

None of the other women at the party seemed to notice. They all maintained conversations as if they were the only humans in the place.

Maybe once a woman had a child, she somehow became oblivious to noise.

I wouldn’t know. But I couldn’t stand it anymore.

With Lolita distracted as she set up another song, I snuck out of the party onto Lolita’s back patio and slid the glass door closed behind me. The change in volume was an instant relief, and the ringing in my ears nearly drowned out the blasting music I still heard through the door. Nearly.

With my wine glass in hand, I made my way out to one of the wicker deck chairs by the pool and eased onto it. I closed my eyes and tugged my skirt higher so I could enjoy the sun on my legs. It was lovely, not too hot that I’d need to cover up in five minutes, and not too cold. Queensland weather was perfect at this time of year.

“May I join you?”

I jolted and swiveled to the man’s voice. He was already opening the pool gate. “Sure.” It seemed I didn’t really have a choice in the matter.

“The noise in there is doing my head in.”

I smiled at the kindred spirit. “I agree.”

“So, which one is yours?”

I frowned at him. “Sorry?”

“Which one of the girls is your daughter?”

“Oh.” I chuckled. “None. I’m Lolita’s friend, Jane.”

“Oh.” The way he said it made me wonder if he was Lolly’s husband’s single friend that she’d wanted me to meet. I tried to ignore the way he looked at me but couldn’t. It was like he was sizing me up for a ball gown.

For three years, no man had looked at me. Nada. Zip. Zero. Zilch.

But now, men seemed to be coming out of the woodwork like an army of termites. Not that I was complaining; it was a pleasant change.

“And you are?” I made a show of eyeballing him up and down.

“Sorry.” He grinned and held his hand forward. “That was very rude of me. I’m Clayton.” His honesty was refreshing, and I quickly forgave him as he took my hand in a firm shake. “It’s just that when Lolita mentioned you, I imagined someone different.”

“Oh.” I cringed as I wondered what exaggerations she’d conveyed. “What did she say?”

He shifted in his seat. “Well, she said you were single and hadn’t had a date in three years.”

Great. Just great. I’m going to kill her. “Okay. And what exactly should a single woman who hasn’t had a date in three years look like?”

He cleared his throat and squirmed some more. “I umm . . . I don’t know exactly. But I didn’t picture a woman as gorgeous as you.”

I blinked at him, wondering if the ringing in my ears had messed up my hearing.

“Oh, crap. That sounded totally like a line. Sorry. I’m not used to this kind of stuff.”

My head spun. Clayton was handsome. The epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, actually. He had thick, ebony hair that had a slight wave. His dark eyes, nearing the color of a perfect hot chocolate, were framed with long black lashes.

“What stuff are you referring to? We’re just two people trying to escape that bedlam inside.”

He chuckled. It was a nervous chuckle, and I wondered what else Lolly had told him. If she’d even hinted at my dirty little secret, I was definitely going to kill her.

Clayton gulped his beer. “Yes, you’re right. Just two people chatting.”

Now I really was convinced Lolita had told him more. “Okay, go on. Tell me what else you know about me.”

Cringing, he said, “All right, let me see.” He rolled his eyes to the clouds. “She said you were twenty-eight?” He said it as a question, and I answered with a nod. “She said you’d moved to the Gold Coast after, and I quote, ‘your cheating bastard ex-fiancé slept with everyone in your small country town who had a vagina.’”

I burst out laughing. How could I not? Lolita had described my previous love life perfectly.

Clayton grinned, and his shoulders relaxed. “Did I get that right?”

“Yes. Exactly right. So, it seems you know everything about me. How about you tell me about you?”

“Okay. I’m thirty-one.”

He looked at me as if seeking approval for his age. In light of the variety of ages of the men I’d experienced recently, age was no longer important. I refrained from reacting, and he carried on. “I manage a jewelry store. Paradise Jewelers at Broadbeach. Do you know it?”

I shook my head and wriggled my unadorned fingers at him. The most expensive piece of jewelry I’d ever owned was my engagement ring, and I’d thrown that from my balcony weeks ago. Hopefully, it was someone else’s prized possession now.

“I play squash twice a week.” He grinned again. “Oh, I love to cook. Italian is my specialty. I make my own pasta?—”

“Daddy. Daddy.” A little girl came running toward us. “Come on, Dad, it’s cake time.”

I swept my gaze from the cute little girl in a pink and yellow sundress to Clayton, whose cheeks had flushed maroon in an instant.

He glanced at me and then turned his attention to his daughter. “I’ll be there in a second, sweetheart.”

The little girl dashed off.

“I’m also a single dad,” he said.

Surprised, I blinked at Clayton, expecting him to elaborate, but instead, he silently stood and followed his daughter into the house. I waited until he’d disappeared through the glass sliding doors before I rejoined the party.

Homemade birthday cakes were another one of Lolly’s abundant skills. If I’d never met Lolita Bell in person, I’d never have believed a woman like her existed in real life. She was beautiful, athletic, smart, funny, a great mother, could hold her own in a room full of politicians, a green belt in karate, and to top that off, she was the best friend a girl from the country could ask for.

Savannah’s cake was a replica of a fairytale castle, smothered in what promised to be delicious pink icing and decorated with sweets and hundreds of colorful sprinkles. After Savannah blew out the candles, the cake was carved, and as it was dished out, her cake received the praise it deserved from everyone in the room, including me.

Beneath the delicious icing was a rich white-chocolate mud cake. Although I forked aside some of the icing, I would have been prepared to lick the plate for mud cake crumbs if it had gone unnoticed.

With overflowing sweet bags in all the little girls’ hands and dramatic air kisses from the immaculately dressed women, the guests vanished in a matter of minutes. Clayton gave me a fleeting glance before he hugged Lolly and left, holding his daughter’s hand.

Lolita, Savannah, and I were the only remaining people when the dust settled, and my ears were grateful. Savannah ran off to the sunroom where her abundant selection of new birthday gifts was on display.

I collected the plates off the table. “I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted.”

“It was fun though, don’t you think?” Lolita looked like she could do it all again, ten times over. The woman was a machine.

“It was fun. Loud, but fun.”

“Pfft, you think that was loud. Wait until Maddox’s party. Boys are way worse.”

“Where are Calvin and Maddox anyway?”

“Cal took Maddox to his mate’s place. Savannah didn’t want her stinky brother at her party.”

I could picture Savannah demanding that. For a seven-year-old, she knew how to get her own way. Much like her mother.

I filled the sink with water.

“So,” Lolly said, “what did you think of Clayton?”

“Thanks for that.” I ensured there was sufficient sarcasm in my voice.

“What? Oh, Jane, what’s wrong with him? He’s gorgeous.”

“He’s a single dad.”

“So? Open your horizons, babe.”

“I have opened my horizons. In fact, they’re so far open I’ve fallen into some weird wonderland.”

Lolly laughed so hard her boobs threatened to shake out of her sunflower-yellow strapless dress. “You’ve had a man twice your age.”

I rolled my eyes at her. “I didn’t ‘have him,’ as you put it.”

“But you would have.”

Would I have? Yes, probably. “That’s different. And you know it.”

“What’s wrong with a single dad?”

I scrubbed icing off a plate and rinsed it under the running tap. “I’m just not ready for that.”

“Well, what are you ready for, babe?”

I sighed. “I don’t know yet. But I’m enjoying finding out.”

“You are, huh? Still on track?”

I nodded, hardly able to believe it myself. “Thirteen men in thirteen weeks.”

“Holy shit, babe. And you haven’t actually had sex with any one of them. That’s gotta be a Guinness record or something.” She held her hands up like she was reading a giant banner. “Gold Coast Woman Pleasures Herself with Multiple Men. No Penetration.”

“Lolly!” I slapped my wet hand on her shoulder, and she doubled over laughing.

I couldn’t hold back my chuckle either. Maybe it was some kind of record.

“Actually . . .” I drew the word out.

Her eyes bulged. “Holy fuck! You’ve had sex and you didn’t tell me.”

I couldn’t hold back my excited grin.

She turned to the fridge, plucked out a bottle of bubbles, then clutched my wrist and dragged me toward the table. “Details, babe. I want all the juicy details.”

She plonked me down amongst the demolished birthday cake and hundreds of colorful sprinkles, and then she dashed across the open-plan room to the kitchen to fetch fresh glasses.

“Tell me all about it. Was it hot? Was he hot? Did you get your fucking rocks off?”

I glanced around at all the remnants of the cute seven-year-old girl’s birthday party and decided this wasn’t the time or place to divulge my naughty little romp. Lolly wasn’t going to be happy.

I looked right into her beautiful blue eyes. “I’ll tell you all the details, but not now.”

“You can’t?—”

“Today is for Savannah,” I interrupted, something I rarely did to Lolita. “Tuesday you’ll get it all, and trust me—I won’t leave out a single thing.” Except for the name I’d invented for my naughty twin, that is. If I told her that, she might think I really had gone crazy.

Her frown deepened, and the way her eyes drilled into me, I was certain she was reading my mind. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

I shook my head, ready to deny it, but she had an uncanny ability to sniff out a lie.

I’d hate to be her kids.

“Maybe, but just one thing.” I scrunched up my nose. All of a sudden, the name I’d chosen was embarrassing.

“Tell me.” Her eyes nearly jumped out of their sockets.

My shoulders slumped; there was no getting out of it now. “Don’t laugh.”

She cocked her head. “I can’t promise that. Come on, spit it out.”

“Oh, all right. You know how my favorite song is Marc Cohn’s ‘Walking in Memphis?’”

“Yeah.”

“Well, the name I use when I get into my disguise is Memphis.”

Lolly covered her mouth, but laughter twinkled in her eyes.

She began chuckling. “Oh, that’s golden. Memphis! That’s the name you used when I picked you up at the gym that time. And none of the men question it?”

“None so far.”

“Fools! And it’s April Fools’ Day today. Maybe you can snag another fool tonight.”

I frowned at her. “They’re not fools.”

“I know, babe. I’m just messing with you. You know that, right?”

I nodded. Lolita was the closest thing I had to a big sister. If I hadn’t met her when I arrived on the Gold Coast just over three years ago, I probably would have gone back home.

I checked the clock on the kitchen wall. Forty-five minutes until my shift started. “I better get going. Sorry, I can’t help clean up.”

“Do you want me to drive you home?”

“No, don’t be silly.”

We hugged and said our goodbyes. I walked to the station and caught the tram to Florida Gardens.

The trip took just fifteen minutes, yet I was certain I spied at least four men looking at me during that journey. I was beginning to wonder if I had pink icing on my hair or something.

All of a sudden, men had taken to checking me out. It was getting weird.

Maybe I was giving off horny single-woman vibes.

It was eleven p.m. and two and a half hours into my shift when my ‘fool’ showed up. I mentally slapped myself. He wasn’t a fool, but he was a jolly fellow. An Irish jolly fellow, to be exact. He laughed as he entered the lobby.

Maybe he saw me grinning at him, but for whatever reason, he approached the counter.

“G’day, I’m Finn Hanson.” He laughed again. With his Irish lilt, his G’day sounded ridiculous. Maybe that’s why he laughed, as if what he’d said was the most hilarious thing in the world.

His laugh was wickedly funny, and I giggled too. “How can I help you, Finn?”

He drove his fingers through his strawberry blond curls. “I’m beyond help, apparently.”

I shifted my gaze, running my eyes over his crumpled blue business shirt and pausing on his chest at the Penoptic Solutions insignia. I’d never heard of it. “Looks like you’ve had a fun night.”

“Nope,” he said. “Bloody boring. Had to drink myself silly to enjoy it.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Not really. My boss is an ass, but he was paying the bill, so I just kept drinking.” He roared with laughter.

I could one hundred percent appreciate his plan. My boss was a complete loser, but if he ever bought rounds of drinks, I’d probably do the same.

He pointed his finger at me. “Guilty.”

I blinked at him. I was definitely guilty, but I wasn’t sure what guilt he was referring to. “Pardon?”

“You, madam . . . know exactly what I’m talking about.”

I swallowed. “No. I’m not sure I do.”

He slapped his palm on the table. “Your boss is an ass, too. Am I right? I’m right. Aren’t I?”

Relief washed through me, and I nodded. “Yes, you’re right.”

“I can smell a shithead boss a mile away. Lord knows I’ve had enough of ’em. Say, how about you join me for a drink? Don’t worry; I won’t tell your boss.” Finn’s smile was a cheeky one.

His idea was very tempting. But I couldn’t; I’d already risked too much with my secret rendezvous with hotel guests. “Sorry, I’m working.”

He held his hand across the counter. “Well, it was a delight to meet you?—”

I reached across the counter, and we shook hands. “Jane.”

He gave me a salute and swaggered away. When he reached the entrance to the Triple H Bar, he clutched the doorway like it was a stripper’s pole. “Jane,” he yelled across the lobby, “Have a great night.”

I giggled as he slinked off the wall and disappeared.

Yay. Finn Hanson had just volunteered as my fourteenth pleasure partner.

He just didn’t know it yet.

It was an eternity before the morning sun finally slithered across the white lobby tiles, announcing both a new day and nearly the end of my shift.

I wrapped up the last of my duties and was more than ready to leave when Needledick finally arrived fifteen minutes late. Scowling at him, I did the shortest handover ever and quickly left reception before I punched my asshole boss in his nose.

In my room, as I showered and applied my makeup, I thought about the Irishman waiting for me three floors up. Well, not exactly waiting for me—when I’d seen him roll from the Triple H Bar to the elevators at about one o’clock this morning, he’d looked close to passing out. The chances of him being awake when I went to him were minuscule.

That didn’t bother me. I think half of the men I’d selected this year were asleep when I knocked on their door. None of them complained.

Deciding that my Irishman would get a giggle out of my costume, I chose the French maid outfit again. I selected hot pink matching lingerie and a pair of Christian Louboutin black shoes with a pink ankle strap and pink heels. The shoes were a gift from me for my birthday last year, yet this was the first time I’d worn them.

At least today, they’d have a lovely memory to go with them.

My reflection in the mirror always surprised me. It was like looking at a sexy stranger. The fact that it was me still didn’t register, even after three months of dressing in this disguise. I checked that my blonde bob wig was secured and glided on the final touch—Pinky Promise lipstick.

With my trusty black trench coat on and my bag over my arm, I strode from my room, leaving Plain Jane behind. By the time I was in the elevator, I was in Memphis mode and so ready for whatever my morning held with Finn Hanson.

On the sixth floor, I strode to room thirty-four and stopped to listen. Nothing. I knocked and quickly plumped up my boobs as I waited.

The door opened, and I stepped back. Wow!

Finn did a double-take when he saw me, and I did the same.

I’d expected him to be drowsy after the drunken state he was in late last night, but instead, Finn’s bright eyes and quick grin showed the opposite.

“Hello, hello. Have I died and gone to heaven?”

I chuckled and made a show of looking him up and down, admiring the half-naked body that had been hidden in his work shirt earlier. Finn’s chiseled torso was a pleasant surprise. “No, you haven’t.” I ran my tongue over my lip. “May I come in?”

He glanced over his shoulder as if looking to someone else for approval, then he stepped aside. “Of course.”

As I strode into the room, I undid the belt on my trench coat and glided it off my shoulders. I tossed it over the chair, ran my hands over the skirt of my French maid costume, and turned to Finn.

The door clicked closed behind him as he whistled, then clicked his fingers. “April Fool’s joke, right?” His gaze drifted from me to the bathroom door and back again.

Lolly’s comment rolled around my head. “No. No joke.”

He tucked his thumbs into his blue-check boxer shorts and adjusted the elastic. Once again, he glanced at the bathroom, and I wondered if he needed to go or something.

“I have a little problem.” I reached down and unhooked the ankle strap from my high heel.

“Mmmm, doesn’t look like you do.” He grinned and nodded with ridiculous eagerness.

“I’m horny, and I hate being alone when I feel this way.” I was getting good at this.

“Holy shit! Okay.” He swallowed loud enough for me to hear him and once again, glanced at the closed bathroom door.

“So, do you like to watch?”

“Hell, yes I do.” There was movement in his shorts.

“Yes, I think you do.” I made a show of looking at his groin. “We’re not going to have sex. Okay?” I felt the need to lay down strict ground rules until I assessed the situation. “And I can leave right now if you want me to.”

“Nope. No need to go. But what do I do?”

“Just watch.” I bent over so he could get a good look up my skirt while I undid my second shoe. Once removed, I flicked the heel toward the first one.

Finn still stood halfway between the front door and me. I clutched a handful of my skirt and lifted my dress up over my head, careful not to remove my blonde wig with it.

But as Finn’s hungry eyes traveled from my half-clad body to over my shoulder, I sensed a change in the room and turned.

My blood drained.

A beautiful young woman strolled from the bathroom toward the bed.

I shoved my arms over my breasts in a feeble attempt to cover myself.

The woman wore sexy pale-blue French knickers.

Just French knickers.

She walked with bold confidence, and her perky breasts moved very little as she sashayed across the carpet.

“I’m sorry, I thought . . .” I grappled with my costume, trying to work out top from bottom.

“No need to be sorry.” She flicked her long amber hair over her shoulder. “I hear you’d like us to watch.” Her voice was a seductive melody.

My heart exploded in my chest. I held my dress over my torso. “This is a mistake.”

“No, it’s not. Don’t worry. We won’t touch you. Will we, lover?” She patted the bed.

Finn’s eyes, greedy with lust, traveled between the two women in his room, and his cock was a full-blown pole, ready to burst from his shorts.

Finn strode to the other woman, and as their mouths met in a heated kiss, I was unable to pull my eyes away. My face flushed, and the heat between my legs inflamed. His hands were on her breasts, manipulating them with eager fingers.

Their heady breathing matched my own as Finn’s shorts were lowered by the woman. His cock bounced out and aimed toward her, seeking attention. She wrapped her hand around his cock and glided her delicate fingers up and down his solid shaft.

As if choreographed, they stopped kissing and glanced at me together.

“Are you watching?” The woman sounded so sweet and genuine.

I nodded, completely lost for words. I knew I could leave. Should leave.

And yet, for some inexplicable reason, I wanted to stay.

I’m in so much trouble!

To be continued. . .

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