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“Then make a move he can’t refuse,” Lavinia says, smiling.
“Like what?” I whisper when I realize I have no moves.
For the next ten minutes and a fourth margarita, I listen to them give me the most scandalous ideas, until the front door opens and a burst of cold-ass air blows in.
“Yay, the husbands are here,” Miriam says, jumping up from her seat and into her husband’s arms.
“Huh?” I ask, confused.
“That’s the condition of girls' night. Our husbands get to pick us up and take us home. Fair trade really, but it’s the ride home that’s the best,” Ada whispers.
“Oh,” I say, deflating.
“Don’t worry, girl. Your man is here. He must have heard about this from Paul. They’ve been best friends since Paul moved here from Florida a few years ago.”
“What?” I ask, looking up. My eyes meet Fletcher’s from across the room as he strides toward me.
“Hello, wife,” he says when he reaches me and pulls me up to my feet.
“You’re here?” I question.
“Of course. For six months, I’ve heard about ladies night and I finally have mine to pick up. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”
“Let’s get out of here,” I whisper when he bends his head and buries his face in my neck. When he kisses my pulse point my legs go weak.
“You got it, Red,” he says, taking me by the hand and leading me toward the door.
“Bye girls. See you later, “ I say after turning back to face them. I get some hoots and hollers, but that doesn’t matter. I’m gonna get my man tonight. “Wait!” I all but shout as we pass the bar. I tug my hand free of Fletcher’s and jog toward the end of the bar. I walk up behind Mr. Picard and tap him on the shoulder. He swivels in the barstool but doesn’t speak. Without thinking, I throw my arms around the man’s neck. He smells like Brut aftershave, like my own grandfather, and Tide. “It might not seem like it now, sir, but everything will be okay.” He doesn’t move, but doesn’t stop me either. “I’m Florence Blake, it’s really nice to meet you Mr. Picard. You don’t have to say anything, I know it’s nice to meet me,” I say, immediately blaming it on the alcohol, squeezing him tighter before letting him go. He stares at me for a minute then bursts out laughing.
“You’ve got yourself a little firecracker, Fletcher,” he says.
“I am beginning to see that, Walt.”
“Don’t you go worrying about me, Florence. You go on home now with your husband. I’ll be fine.”
“Alright, have a good night.”
“You too, darlin.”
“Oh, I plan to,” I say, turning back to Fletcher’s, whose eyes widen.
The ride home is silent and filled with a kind of tension I’ve never known.
As soon as we walk in the front door, I’m on him. Our lips meet and I feel like I’m flying. At first my back is against the wall, my skirt rising high on my thighs, but I switch our positions so that his back is to the wall. I drop to my knees in front of him and fumble with his belt in a way that I hope is sexy and not off putting.
“Baby, slow down,” he says gentling my hands.
“I want to see your cock,” I moan. I’m so wet, I can feel it sliding down my thigh.
“How much have you had to drink,” he asks, gently pulling me to my feet.
“Just a little, not a lot,” I say, reaching behind me and pulling the zipper of my dress down until my dress pools at my feet. I slip out of my heels and step out of the pile as I pull my bra off. Fletcher just stares at me, eyes wide.
My panties are sticking to my pussy in an obscene way. They are so uncomfortable, I need them off of my body, so I do just that.
“Tell me what you want, Florence,” he growls, advancing on me. He’s still fully dressed, but he’s so hot, all I want to do is strip him down and jump him, but I don’t.”
“I want you to kiss me,” I say and he moves toward me. When he lowers his head toward mine, I shake my head. “Not there.”
