Not In My Wildest Dreams (Dream Series) (23 page)

Thank you.

My next text was to Jessica.

8:47pm

I’m going to do some

shopping downtown

tomorrow. Want to

join me? And how do

you feel about the spa

on Friday?

She must have been busy, because I didn’t get a reply for another half an hour. But she was in.

9:16pm

Do bees buzz?

R
eally? The ballet? She knew I didn’t do ballet. Especially when the Giants were playing. Besides, if she’s going all the way to San Francisco, I’d get another night off.

I
tossed my phone on the bed and quickly changed into workout clothes.
We’re going to the theatre again!

Punishing the hotel’s gym, I ran, lifted weights, and then swam until I was exhausted. At least my personal trainer, Brian, would be impressed. Usually when I took trips out of town, my workout routine suffered. Not this week. I would have preferred working out horizontally with a particular brunette.

As I worked out, I reviewed how things had gone with Beth since Monday, and the plan for tomorrow afternoon. This past week of restraint had been brutal, hence the frequent trips to the hotel’s gym. To be staying just a few miles from her and not see her every day was pure torture. I wanted to spend every minute of every day with her.

And now I get to take her to the theatre again. I couldn’t believe my gamble paid off. I mean, I somehow knew that Greg wouldn’t come through for Beth—again, but there was a small part of me that thought the fucker might step up. I would be the one proudly walking with her on my arm to a show. I couldn’t care less about ballet, but Beth did. The way her face lit up with the story unfolding in front of her was pure inspiration. I couldn’t wait to see what she would wear.

Friday would be for all the marbles. It would be our last night together. Playing it cool this week has been tough, but I wanted to show Beth that I wanted her for who she was, not simply for sex. And truthfully, I did want her for her companionship as well as her spark in bed. She was funny, kind, generous and smart. Yes, she was perfectly submissive, but she was strong—so strong.

I was going to woo like nobody’s business and lay out all the cards.

Thursday, I busied myself in the business center of the hotel. I hoped that Beth was shopping for a gown, but to be honest, she could show up in yoga pants, a t-shirt, and flip-flops.

I considered how the date would go. Inspired with an idea, I headed to the quaint downtown and visited a couple of shops, searching for that just right touch to make the night magical and meaningful. I stopped in every shop that might have what I wanted, but they didn’t have anything that spoke to me loud enough. I ran a quick search on my phone and found what I was looking for. And the store I wanted to get the perfect piece was about forty miles away. I hoped into my car and drove to Walnut Creek, California.

At the very special store of quintessential romantic trinkets, I found precisely what I had in mind. I paid the account, tucked the small blue box in my breast pocket, and headed back to Napa, extremely hopeful for what would unfold tomorrow evening.

Friday afternoon, by the time the limo came to collect me and then head to Beth’s, I was climbing the walls. I’d been replaying every memory we’d shared both in New York and here in Napa. And the more I thought about us, I knew she was the one. That all these years, I never settled because I knew that she was out there… for me… to complete me.

The limo pulled up to her house at five minutes to three. I used the time to gather my thoughts. Even though I hadn’t smoked since that first week in Becca’s place thirty-some years ago, I wanted a cigarette so badly right then, I probably would have sold my soul to the devil. I was so nervous. This was it. This was my swan song. Not to mention Beth and me in a limo, our attentions undivided for over an hour as we drove to San Francisco. My mind refused to shake the memories of her on her knees giving me the most rewarding head I’d ever gotten. She wasn’t the most skilled, and the way she took direction was admirable, but that she gave of herself so selflessly was truly humbling. That she gave of herself so completely made me want to be a better man.

At three o’clock sharp, I shook off the nerves and pumped myself up, buttoned up my tux, and stepped out of the car. I made my way to the door, picturing the many dresses at Une Grande Fête. Marie called late yesterday to let me know that there were charges to the account. I shook my head realizing that Beth had chosen one of the more…economical… dresses. Marie wouldn’t spill about the details of the dress that Beth had chosen. She only said that Beth was
une belle femme
.

I knocked on the door and waited. My mouth was dry, my heart was pounding through my chest, and my palms were sweaty. I heard the locks on the door and stopped breathing.

When the door opened, the world dropped away. She stood in front of me, a vision in royal blue. The gown was a simple, floor-length, strapless sheath dress, a slit up her left thigh—not as high as the salmon dress, but just as sexy. The blue complimented her coloring radiantly. She wore the chocolate brown pendant, and it sparkled like her eyes. The smile that adorned her face was enough to make my heart explode. Carefully, she lifted the skirt of the dress and extended her Crystal Caged Bootie foot, for my approval. She had it. From head to toe.

“Every time I see you, I forget all the beautiful things I want to say. All I can say right now is huminah-huminah.”

“Thank you,” she giggled. “You don’t look half bad yourself,” she said running a finger on the lapel of my jacket.

“Shall we?” I asked extending my elbow.

“We shall.” She turned and made sure the door was closed, and arm-in-arm we headed to the waiting limo.

The ride to ballet was a challenge. She spoke filling the silence, talking about the ballet and what she’d learned online. Her enthusiasm was rewarding. I was delighted to bring her such joy. But truth be told, I didn’t hear much. Watching her lips move, coupled with her bare shoulders, and the perfume she wore, I was ready to push her down on the seat and fuck her like the animal I was, especially when she would put her hand on my knee, or let her head drop to my shoulder while she laughed.

I imagined leaning over and licking the line from the back of her ear all the way down to where her neck met her shoulder. I wanted to slip my hand into the slit of the skirt and run my hand up her inner thigh until she trembled as I reached her apex. Then I would slide down on my knees in front of her, like she had done to me on our way to the theatre just a couple weeks ago. I would spread her thighs and run my tongue along the soft, creamy skin. I would inhale her musky, salty, sweet scent and press my lips on to the heat source through her panties.

Oh, her panties… What style would she be wearing? Certainly lace. What color? I imagined hot pink. Then I imagined shifting the hot pink lace aside, licking her from the bottom of her slit up through to her clit, with an extra flick of attention at her love button. I’d clamp my lips around that sensitive nub as I slid a finger into her hot center. She’d writhe with pleasure. That mew she made when she was growing more excited would come from her throat. I’d then plunge a second finger in. I’d crook my fingers, searching for that textured spot. I’d rub, press, and suck until she flooded my mouth with her essence. And I’d lap up every drop. Then I’d kiss her deeply and let her know how good she tasted.

I was pulled out of my musings when she pushed a glass of Scotch into my hand. “You look like you could use a drink. Are you okay?” she asked. She was so good to me.

“I’m always okay when you’re near,” I said, sipping the brown liquid.

Her smile made my heart beat even faster.

Inside the restaurant was even more of a challenge. Watching her eat, I recalled the first day I saw her, eating that steak salad, her tongue catching the dressing at the corner of her mouth, only this time it was béarnaise sauce on filet mignon. And then, there was the matter of the small box in my pocket. My plan was to wait for the intermission of the ballet, but my heart was pounding. Maybe I should try and find a time at dinner? Or do I wait for the intermission at the ballet as planned? Or do I take her for drinks afterward? Was this whole plan a good one?

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked interrupting my crazed thoughts.

“Me? Fine as frog’s hair. Why do you ask?”

“You’re just very quiet this evening, that’s all,” she said off handedly.

“I am simply enjoying your company, Beth. I like to listen to you. Please, continue with Carter’s latest find in Pompeii.”

She poured two packets of sugar into her espresso and stirred slowly, choosing her next words. “This has been my happiest week in California.”

I looked at her confused. Her
happiest?

“You listen to me. You get me. You do things for me that I am interested in,” she stated.

My heart was banging on the inner walls of my chest. I feared I might have a heart attack. After all the working out I’d done this week, a couple remarks from the love of my life would do me in. “I’ve enjoyed every minute.” I took her hand and rubbed my thumb over her delicate knuckles.

“I am a
little
disappointed that you’ve not tried to… you know,” she blushed.

Oh hell!
“Believe me, the thought has crossed my mind…on more than one occasion,” I winked. Maybe I should have gone for broke in the limo. “But Beth, you are so much more than that to me.”
Now? Was this the opportunity?

Just then the server delivered the check, and I checked my watch. “We have to get going! We don’t want to miss the first act.” The box would have to wait.

I quickly paid the check and we hurried to the limo for the thankfully short ride to the War Memorial Opera House with no time to spare. If the ride were any longer, I would have sunk my fingers, tongue and cock into her.

I
don’t know which was more magical, the dancers or the priceless expression on Beth’s face with the costumes, coupled with her laughter at the comedy woven into the story. When she carefully took my hand the moment Prince Charming met Cinderella, and knew they were falling in love, I prayed this was Beth’s signal to me that I was home free… Home with
my
princess. With each musical number, we got closer to the end of the first act, and I rehearsed it all in my mind.

The curtain dropped for intermission and Beth turned to me, beaming. “This is wonderful, Jack. Thank you.”

“Come,” I encouraged, standing and offering her my hand. She took my hand and stood with a suspicious gleam in her eye. “A cocktail for my princess,” I invited.

We wiggled out of the row, and arm-in-arm we headed to the cocktail bar. I ordered her a glass of Chardonnay and a glass of Merlot for myself, since all they were selling were blended Scotches. Meandering through the lobby, and the other elegant, opening-night theatre goers, I spied a hallway with some doors.

Quickly, I whisked us down the hall, searching in earnest for a private room. Spotting one, I walked in and as calmly as I could, collected our glasses and set them on a nearby table. Once our hands were free, I turned and pinned her to the wall, at first with my eyes, and then with my body and mouth.