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“Okay, whatever. I just need some Anthony time. Soon.” She doesn’t sound convinced and I know I need to end the call.
“Hey, I'm getting in the shower. Go eat.”
“Why are you showering? It’s like six thirty. Did you and Kevin just fuck?” She snickers.
“You are so crass, Adelaide. I have to go. Go eat,” I snap.
And without giving her a chance to say anything else, I hang up.
I can’t help but laugh as I get in the shower.
If only she knew.
* * *
* * *
Milly walks into Claudia’s ten minutes past seven. And the minute I see her, I forget about the time. Milly knows how to make an entrance.
She is wearing a red dress, it’s only closure, a zipper that runs from top to bottom in the front. It fits her like a second skin. It is long sleeved and hits her right below her knee.
She turns around to say something to the hostess, and I get a view of her back. There is a wide, exposed zipper that is open from the middle of her shoulders up. It was so tight she couldn’t possibly be wearing any underwear beneath it.
My mouth water
s as I think about her immaculately groomed pussy. The deep V in the front of the dress lets me see she's wearing the chain with that pendant and my ring hanging from it.
She strides toward the table where I'm sitting, her eyes never leaving mine. Her hair, rather than being up as I requested, has been blown into pin straight strands which shimmer with every step she takes.
She looks like Hera descending Mount Olympus. She's more beautiful than Helen of Troy, and I would be willing to battle an entire nation for her. And unlike that poor schmuck Paris, I would fucking win.
I stand as she approaches our table and walk toward her. The restaurant is crowded. The bar is standing room only and between the background music and the conversation, it’s loud.
Yet, as I cut through the crowd and tables that are separating us, our eyes never leaving each other, she's the only person I notice.
“Red, you’re beautiful.” Is all I say before I lay my lips on her and kiss her. It’s not a deep kiss, but it’s claiming and hungry. She leans into me, her scent—roses—is intoxicating.
She moans when I pull my lips away. Her eyes are hooded. And I remember the Milly who had always thought public displays of affection to be tacky. But tonight, right now, it’s obvious she doesn’t care.
Our eyes hold and I smile down at her. “Come. Let’s sit down and eat.”
I take her hand and lead her back to our table. It is away from the crowded bar area, and more of a booth than a table. I let her slide in first and then sit down next to her.
Our waitress appears almost immediately. She orders a glass of white wine, while I order a whiskey.
“So, how was your week?” She turns so she's facing me. I put my arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to me.
“It was rather ordinary. How was yours?”
“Busy. I had a lot of meetings this week, but my Friday is turning out to be a real winner.” She grins.
Her grin is infectious, and I find myself grinning back.
Our drinks arrive at the table and she immediately takes a long sip. And then she looks at me and says, “Tell me about your fiancée.”
It’s not what I am expecting her to say. I know my expression changes and she must see it, too. Right away. I feel the mood at the table shift from lighthearted to tense.
“Never mind. I'm sorry. It was a stupid thing to ask. I didn’t mean to ruin the mood,” she says quickly before I can respond.
