The Land of Rabbits (Long Shot Love Duet #1) (3 page)

“Who’s Roxanne?” I ask, no longer staring.

“The woman at the desk. She owns the place.”

“Doesn’t that name always remind you guys of that song by The Police?” Brian starts to sing, sounding more like a man with a head cold than Sting.

“I know, right Brian? Or that movie with Steve Martin and Daryl Hannah,” Jess says.

“I think that song is about falling in love with a prostitute.” Nadine touches her husband’s hand as she speaks. “It’s sexy. You remember the video?”

I rest my elbow on the table and my chin in my hand, expelling an exaggerated sigh. “Am I the only adult here? How can falling in love with a whore be sexy?”

“Yes, you’re the only adult and you should be extremely proud of yourself.” Nadine pokes my foot with hers.

They make light of everything, always ribbing, spirited prods here and there... it’s exactly what they’re trying to revive in me.

“I’m amused that my family—the people who took me in because I was a miserable wreck—have brought me to a place where I’m under-age, but allowed to drink.” I hold up my wine. “And you guys are pressuring me to pay for sex. You’re all off the deep end. A bunch of fucking bad influences.”

“Yes, that’s true too,” she says playfully. “Except I doubt anyone here cares about the legal drinking age.”

“No, we don’t.” Quinn leans forward, filling the waters. His hand slides down to the small of my back, moving his fingers in a gentle circling motion. “As long as you’re eighteen, you can enter the devil’s gate and do whatever the
fuck
you want.”

“Wow.” Jess gawks. “I love the tone of your voice when you say ‘fuck.’ Totally panty wetting. How old are you?”

“Twenty-one.”

The light pressure from his circling fingers is incredible. Slow... tender... I can picture him using them in other places. And his warm breath is back, traveling down the front of my dress, coating my breasts.

“Addie’s twenty. The two of you should hang out tonight. Enjoy each other’s company and relax.” She points at me. “Get drunk, get laid, smoke a bowl, swim naked, have sex a second time. Do all that cool stuff you’re supposed to do at your age.”

“I guess I’m just not
cool
.”

“Pfft.” She flops her hand, dismissing my comment. “Tell me the last time you did the wild hog.”

“What the heck kind of expression is that? You sound like such a dope.”

“When does the fun begin?” Nadine interrupts, looking at Quinn for an answer. “I’m starting to sweat in this dress. My hair’s droopy from the humidity and I’ve got stubble on my legs from waiting so long. Plus the anticipation of... of...”

“Anal beads?” Brian mocks, unbuttoning his lightweight sport coat.

They’re drunk. I can tell by my aunt’s red face, and my uncle—he’d never say anal beads in front of a stranger. No way.

“Yes, Brian.” She leans forward with rosy cheeks. “I’m impatient for my sex toy. And I can tell you’re never going to let me live this down.”

“Never. But I’m sure you’ll be hard on me as soon as you see... when my...” He leans back, his eyes opening wide in amazement. “Hot damn.”

We follow his gaze, seeing a woman dressed in a skin-tight leather cat suit, rocking her colossal hips as she heads our way.

“Holy mother of pearl. You picked a cat?” Jess teases. “That’s such a guy thing. Oh, and do you see those... those gigantic boobs! They’re not even covered.”

“I see ‘em.” Nadine squirms. “They have to hang out so she can breathe.” She adjusts the straps on her formless dress, nonchalantly checking her own breasts in comparison. She’s thin for her age, and this fictional cat who just straddled Brian’s waist is a full-figured animal.

“Meeeow,” she says with a sensuous purr.

Lashes flutter under the cat hood and her long, pointy nails claw at his chest. He’s snatched from the chair, rebounding back for a hurried goodnight kiss and an “I love you” whispered to Nadine, before being led to a table on the opposite side of the patio.

The guests “ooh” and “aah,” desperate for their chosen fantasy to appear.

“I knew he was gonna pick her. I just knew it.”

“Reminds me of that time he told us his comic books turned him on as a kid.” Jess’s eyes dart as one-by-one the giddy women around us are guided by their one-night possessions to private tables. “Lots of testosterone flying through the story in those comics, men fighting and busty women displayed throughout the pages.”

“That’s plenty of information about my uncle’s erotic desires, thank you very much.”

“Do you think the woman Brian picked plays all of the female characters here?” Jess ignores my remark. “And why do men just have white women to choose from? Nothing like our list of sixty potential players—every height, weight, and race are represented.”

“The cat’s black. And she looks sumptuous,” I say, pouring more wine. “I don’t know about you, but I always considered a black cat to be black, unless I’m way off base and tortoiseshell is the new black, then she’s not black at all, now is she?”

“What?” Nadine laughs. “You’re cut off from drinking after that glass... by the way, where’d Quinn run off to?”

I shrug, studying the surroundings. Two servers come and go through the back dining room door, carrying salads and water, their white shirts hanging open. There’s a small outdoor bar built from weathered fieldstone and a bartender covered in tattoos mixing drinks. His laugh is distinct, sinister sounding, like a mocking cackle. I’ve heard it before, but can’t place his character.

I try to keep a poker face as I ask my next question...

“What’s the five hundred dollar upgrade everyone’s been talking about?”

“See, I told you if we kept pushing she’d go for it,” Jess says. “It’s a touch.” Her voice rises in my direction. “No kissing, fondling, rubbing your vagina, jerking off, or penetration. No fluids exchanged. Nothing’s going in or coming out. There’s no cum shot from him and no screaming orgasm from you. Just a touch.” She turns to Nadine. “Get her the upgrade. I’ll chip in.”

“I didn’t say I was going for it... but what do you mean by a touch?”

“A full-body massage with conversation. That’s it. The old-biddy special for women reluctant to go all the way.”

“Ahh, ha-ha!” A crowing laugh from the bartender silences the open air—from the women, to the birds, to the nearby stream and the light breeze—the earth halts.

“You wanna fight, you wimpy fuck?”

Quinn’s in front of him, rolling his sleeves to ready himself, while Roxanne stands off to the side with an entertained smile.

The bartender spits and raises his hands, springing everywhere. One hop left... bouncing... a hop right, then taking two practice swings, coming an inch from his face.

“Let’s do this, fucker. I’m gonna kick your ass.”

He’s a spectacle, stealing the scene with a split lip, short spikey hair, and a chest twice the size of Quinn’s. Tall, muscular, his pants low, pubic hair showing, and that cackle...

“Oh my God.” Jess gasps. “Naddie... Naddie.” She tugs at my aunt’s arm. “He’s mine. That one’s mine. My favorite movie man ever! Look at him. Look!”

“She picked Tyler,” a woman says.

After all that, the fake fight is quick, lasting only a second. Quinn goes down in one punch. On his back and pretending to be out.

“Ahh, ha-ha-ha.” The bartender lights a cigarette, his cheeks sunken when he inhales. With a puff of smoke and a squint, he gives Quinn a swift kick before walking toward our table.

“Who’s getting some of this tonight?” His voice is low and commanding, his walk dominant and fierce. “Who’s gonna take my stiff cock? Two, three, four times. Who wants me?”

Women raise their hands, cheer, whistle, and paw his abs as he walks by. It’s a mad house.

“Whoa.” Jess inhales. “Eeek!” She’s lifted over his shoulder, her red thong and dimpled butt fat surfacing as she’s carried off.

“I won’t be able to walk tomorrow!” she shouts over a crowd of twenty applauding women. “Or a week!”

“She’s a strange one.” I shake my head. “But definitely entertaining.”

“Life would be bland if we were all the same.”

“True.” I lean back as my salad’s served and my wine’s refilled.

“Enjoy the pool and the beautiful grounds tonight, but promise me I won’t wake up and find you passed out at the bar,” Nadine requests.

I nod.

“Promise?”

“Okay. If I pass out, I’ll make sure I’m in my room.”

“Addie.”

“I swear I’ll be all right. I’m not abusing liquor like I used to. I’m better... I’m getting better. I’ll stop after this one. Besides,” I swirl the liquid in the glass, “the guy poured such a small amount. See. Teeny-tiny.”

We hear Brian laugh and Nadine bites her lip to stop a twitch, same as my mom used to do. The Moore women have twitchy lips. Plump, too, but most people are drawn to our broad blue eyes, not the lips.

“Do you consider this cheating?” I question, grimacing at Brian’s hand on the woman’s leg. “I know I would if I were married.”

“It can be to some,” she whispers.

“What about you?”

She offers a weak smile, touching my cheek like I’m too young and innocent to understand. “We love each other. Most of the time, we do. I guess it’s hard for you to comprehend what’s going on. All I can say is we need this. We’ve been married for nineteen years and making love isn’t the same as it used to be. Not terrible, but not exciting either. Think of this trip like buying new clothes and getting your hair cut in the spring—a pick me up.” She looks at Brian. “Sometimes you have to open the curtains and allow the sun to warm your face. You know?”

“No, I don’t know.”

“Well, if I were doing this on my own, or if Brian was, yes, then I’d call it cheating.”

“And because you both agree, it’s not? That’s fucked up.”

She pauses to think of a better response.

“Don’t worry about it, Nadine. I was just curious about your feelings. Hiding the obvious makes me feel unimportant, like you can’t open up and speak the truth in front of me.”

“This isn’t a masquerade. I’m being completely honest with you.” She twists her wedding ring. “Both Brian and I feel that this is part of our marriage. Without it we’d be dried up, disagreeable mutts with no release from reality. Just wait ‘til you’re with a guy for two decades. You’ll see. There’re only a lucky few who are suited to be with one person, and the rest of us wish those fully satisfied princes and princesses would be more open-minded.”

I hit a sore spot. The protruding vein on her neck is a bad sign.

“We do this together.” Her freshly painted pink fingernails tap the table. “No secrets.”
Tap.
“These evenings are planned.”
Tap
.

“Okay.” I observe the couples dining at each table and try to think of a new subject. I don’t want to ruin her night. “You’re next.”

“What?”

“Everyone’s taken. You’re the last one.”

“Huh.” There’s an amplified pitch in her voice and increased breaths. “How’s my hair?” She bends over and fluffs it, jerking her head upward for fuller body. “My lipstick okay?”

I’m amused by her sudden enthusiasm, an instant change. My aunt’s pretty mellow, but becomes crazed when she drinks... and I guess when she’s about to get laid, too. “Your lipstick’s perfect. It matches your fingernails.”

“Makeup?”

“No smudges, fresh and modest. I think you look good.”

She drops her shoulders with an open mouth. “Are you sure? Or do you think I look like a slut?”

“You
are
a slut.” I laugh. “All three of you are.”

“Phweeep!”
Jess whistles, getting our attention then motioning toward the bar.

“Oh boy, my pulse is racing. I can’t turn around. Is he there? Tell me what he looks like.”

“Dark outfit, stylish, clean-cut, and he’s got a gun. Who is it?”

“Shaved head?”

“Uh-huh, did you pick a cop?”

“His name’s Sean. He’s been my fantasy heartthrob for years.”

“Hey, girl,” he calls out, crossing his arms with his feet apart in an assertive stance. “Come talk to me.”

My hand’s patted and under a whale of a breath, she says, “Here goes nothing.”

“Have fun.”

“Lay off the booze,” she orders, slipping a mint into her mouth and fixing a twisted bra strap on her way to the bar. She gets a high-five from Jess and raised glasses from the women she passes. Her smile’s wide, face vibrant, and Sean’s thrilled. He... holy shit.

“Nice!” Jess yells, as he makes a move. No handshake. No hello. Nadine’s hugged and they suck face. That fast. Instant contact.

Her glass slips from her hand, shattering on the stone patio as her black heel lifts behind her back. It’s like a classic ‘40s movie kiss.

“Totally nice!” Jess hoots.

Their lips unlock and the act’s amplified with an overstated fanning of her face, in need of a cool down. He grips her ass and she’s escorted to a table, far away from Brian.

I’m surprised they didn’t skip dinner and go straight to her room to fuck.

Sean’s hypnotism over Nadine is instant, Tyler’s cackle counters Jess’s boisterous laugh, and the black cat’s thigh is shrouded by Brian’s hefty hand. They’ve disappeared for the night. Spellbound. Lost with their play dates.

I’m left with three vacant chairs and an empty bottle of wine, plus Roxanne’s watchful eye—that woman’s starting to creep me out. She’s off to the side, leaning against the building with a cigarette hanging from her mouth, every few minutes flicking the ashes into the darkening sky. Her looming presence makes me uneasy. She blows smoke toward Quinn and the other servers as they come and go through an exterior door—the end of her cigarette glowing with each inhale.

Staring at me.

Her chin is up.

Never turning away.

Intimidating.

She’s a vamp.

“Stop,” I murmur, stabbing the lettuce in frustration. This is so uncomfortable. I push the plate away and lift the empty bottle of wine, twisting it in the air. She needs a distraction and I’d like one final glass for the night. And not a drop like the last serving.
More please,
I mouth.

But the response is from Quinn, searching for a bottle behind the bar.

“Make it quick.” Her raspy, domineering voice instructs, getting no response. “Did you hear me, Quinn?” The cigarette’s smothered under her heel before she heads over and clutches his arm. “She didn’t pay.”