Oscar and Sophie sit across from us, and I spot him checking me out. He jerks his gaze as soon as I catch him. Such a man — a beautiful woman by his side, yet he can’t help looking at another one. And all this time, I was under the impression that Oscar wasn’t a player like the rest of them. I was so wrong.
I study my place setting; a large gold charter plate topped with an elegant white plate, shiny flatware, wine and water glasses, and a rolled up linen napkin and menu, tied with red ribbons. No one has touched their menus, but it’s just the five of us right now.
I pull the bow off and peruse the fixed menu. Six courses. Fancy French food I don’t quite understand. My eyes scan the copy and try to make out what it all is. I bet Sophie knows exactly what she’ll be eating. For me, it will be mostly a surprise — that’s kind of fun, I guess. Between the three of us, we deduce that we will be eating garlic bread, snails and calamari as appetizer, a pear avocado salad, duck, and chocolate mousse topped with a berry compote for dessert. I’m thrilled — I love mousse.
I’m suddenly famished.
Mom and Mark walk in, accompanied by my sister, Sarah, who has just flown in. She’s with her friend, Emma. She’s been spending a lot of time with Emma lately, and Mom has been wondering if she’s secretly gay. It would explain the divorce, she says. But I know the reason for the divorce — her ex was an utter asshole. She couldn’t show up earlier because she’s very busy being a family law attorney. Yes, that’s what I have to live up to — she’s probably wearing Louboutins too.
The smile on Mom’s face kills me — she’s so happy, and her whole world is about to crumble. I feel like I hold a terrible secret in my hands, a time bomb which could go off any minute. It’s a horrible feeling. Matt turns to me with a sad expression, as if he’s feeling exactly the same way. He probably is.
They exchange kisses and hugs with everyone, and finally settle down at the table. Mom looks completely flustered, and Mark looks cool as a cucumber. The server pours wine all around,lotsof wine. Oscar and Sophie are making googly eyes at each other. I swig down a gulp of red. I need it. I just know it’s going to be one of those nights.
My mother’s best friend, Natalie, and her husband Gordon show up shortly after, followed by acquaintances and friends of Mark; people I don’t know. Matt’s sister, Samantha, follows, and we’re quickly introduced.
And finally, Nicole makes a fashionable late appearance. Mark’s gaze lingers on her as she takes a seat next to Corrie. He studies the both of them for a second or two.
Yep… probably picturing a threesome.
All together, there are eighteen of us. I wonder how Oscar got Sophie invited… probably the same way I got Nicole invited.
The food is rich and delicious; lots of butter and sauces. I worry that my system might not be able to handle it, because it’s so used to healthy foods. Yet, I can’t help but indulge.
Every now and then, I catch Oscar’s gaze, and we exchange smiles. At one point, Sophie notices us and shoots me the stink-eye. And damn, if she’s not really good at it. Another tidbit I’ve recently discovered: French women are very good at the stink eye.
Seriously? She’s known him about fifteen minutes. I’ve known him over three years.
My phone pings. I quickly dig it out of my small purse; a pretty pink satin evening clutch embroidered with colorful flowers and butterflies. The handle is a string of beads. I got it at a thrift shop for just five dollars. My whole outfit costs just under fifty dollars. My breath hitches when I realize the text is from Oscar.
You look amazing. I’ve seen the dress, but never seen the shoes before. Are those new?
I smile and venture a look up at him. He’s watching me with a playful expression. Sophie is busy chatting with the woman sitting next to her.
Yes, they’re new, I tap away, my heart beating a mile a minute.
Well, they are beautiful on you.
Butterflies, very much like the ones on my clutch, whirl around in my stomach.
Thank you. But they are not as nice as Sophie’s shoes.
I wait for his reply with bated breath. I’m excited as I watch him type.
I disagree. I prefer yours.
I smile as I tap,Thank you,and add a smiley face.
To my surprise,he’s not done. I watch him intently as he taps away. I’m surprised by how excited I am. I wonder what he’s writing me. I bite my lip as I wait impatiently for him to finish. My gaze darts around the room — everyone is in conversation, completely oblivious to our little secret naughty conversation.
Finally…
I’d love to pull those ribbons off your ankles, slowly take off those shoes, and kiss your feet softly… move up the curve of your sexy calf, and lick the inside of your soft thigh, until finally, I’d taste your sweet little pussy.
Holy damn. He’s so, so bad. And I’m so, so turned on. He’s being such a player. Such a man. And I’m done with players tonight. There’s already one I need to deal with (Mark), and that’s enough to keep me busy. I don’t have time for sexy shenanigans.
He watches intently as I tap a reply. His expression falls when he reads it.
Aren’t you on a date with Sophie?
