Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Yep, karma’s on my side when I’m able to get a taxi right away on one of the craziest nights in New York. “The Waldorf-Astoria, please.”
“Traffic’s bad. Just letting you know ahead of time.”
I hand him a fifty. “If we can cut some time off, that would be great.”
“I know some detours.”
Leaning back, I check my phone. There’s a text from my mom: Your dad has been fondling his balls for days. Should I be worried?
Me: What?
Mom: I bought some silver balls last time I was in the city that came in a cute Asian fabric covered box. I was told they would help spice up our love life. So far, he plays with them all day, instead of me.
Me: No. Not having this conversation. Happy New Year.
Mom: Happy New Year, Hardy. Dinner this Sunday. You’re bringing Virginia.
Me: Yes, Ma’am.
Next message is a photo from my dad with the message: Your mother got me these hand massagers for Christmas. You manipulate them around your hands with your fingers. I think they’re helping my arthritis. If you need a Valentine’s Day gift for Virginia, you can find these cheap in New York.
I’d bang my head on the plastic shield dividing me from the driver, but I don’t want to catch some disease, so I reply to him instead: Dad, those aren’t hand massagers.
His reply: What do you mean?
I’m not in the right state of mind to explain what Ben Wa balls are tonight. It’s a Big Richard downer. I type: I can’t do this over text. Let’s have a drink later this week. Come by the bar. Happy New Year.
Dad: Sounds good. Have a good night, son. Happy New Year.
The driver pulls over, and announces, “The Waldorf-Astoria.”
I pay the cabbie, and work my way through the hotel. When I find the party, I search the ballroom for a red dress, but come up short. I step farther in, and let my eyes adjust to the low lighting. In the middle of a room of traditional black tuxes stands my beautiful girlfriend in a holy-shit-that’s-short-glittering-gold-dress with the red soled fuck me shoes, as if seeing her long legs wasn’t enough of a fantasy fulfiller.
Her dress might be shiny, but my smile far outshines it. That’s my girl. That’s my sexy as all get out woman. I make my way through the party and through the sea of suits. I reach through the pack, and ask, “May I have this dance?”
When she turns, her smile is kilowatt bright. Her long, dark hair is pinned back on one side with gentle waves rolling down the other. She might be a champagne cocktail tonight, but she’ll always be my Paloma. “Of course,” she replies, taking my hand. The suits part for her and she’s in my arms in an instant. My lips are on hers, a fiery passion ignited. My hands are on her ass, because why not stake the claim for her whole company to see. I swing her out and back again as a slow song begins to play. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too.” I lean in to whisper in her ear, “Nice dress. What there is of it.”
“Thanks for noticing.”
“Every guy in this room has noticed. There’s no mistaking it anymore, V. You may be the only woman in your department, but you most definitely are not one of the guys.” We spin slowly around and I look into the eyes I’ve fallen in love with. “You look gorgeous.”
“Thank you, Hardy. You look pretty damn delectable yourself.”
“Speaking of, how much longer did you want to stay?”
“It’s not midnight yet. I thought we’d kiss as the clock strikes twelve and all that traditional stuff that couples do.”
“I was thinking we’d do something else.”
“I’m open.”
“That’s part of the plan.”
A devious smirk accentuates her red lips. “I’m liking the sound of this plan. Should I say my goodbyes?”
I send her a wink. “You should definitely say your goodbyes.” Stepping back, I add, “Meet me at the elevators in ten minutes.”
“I’ll be there.”
I could stand here all day, watching her sway through the crowd, but there’s no way I’m missing this very important date. Screw the lesson plan, this is a date with destiny.
The elevator arrives just as she does. When we step on, she asks, “Your place or mine, big boy?”
“Mine,” I reply, referring to the apartment and the girl.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Thirty minutes until midnight. The countdown is on and the door is open. I had only enough time to do the basics, but I think she’ll like it. When we walk into the large apartment, her mouth drops open. “This is all yours?”
“Yes.”
“You own the entire fourth floor?”
“I own the entire building.”
She does a double take. “Guess I chose the right bartender then.”
I chuckle. “Guess so, but I think fate had us locked up long before we met.”