“Do you mind if I put the air on?” I nervously asked, while hoping when I got out of Eric’s car I wouldn’t look like I’d pissed myself. I was wearing a new dress I’d bought just for our date tonight that – at the time – made me feel like a jewel. It even met the four C’s.
The pale blue color set off my eyes.
The cut of the neckline set off my cleavage.
The clarity of the shimmery fabric made it appear damn near see through.
And the carat, well…unless Eric worked at a carnival at some point, I wasn’t too worried about him guessing my weight.
When I met him at the front door ten minutes earlier I truly felt hot, seeing his appreciative eyes trailing over my body. But now all I felt was the sweat trailing down my sides because now – for the first time – we were all alone.
Had I started to go through menopause already?
What in the hell had I been thinking? Eric Northman could get any woman he wanted. I was just some used up mom with questionably behaved kids. And he – he – was like a wet dream come true. He was a filet mignon and I was ground chuck.
Ground chuck wrapped up in a – once nice but now sweaty – pale blue shimmering package.
How would Eric feel about me once he saw my boobs weren’t as perky as they’d once been? Or the silvery stretch marks that ran across my abdomen like a Rand McNally map of lower Manhattan? Having two kids back to back when I was thirty years old had taken its toll on my body and even though I knew I shouldn’t be worried about that right now, I couldn’t help it.
So to keep myself from throwing my body out of the car and test how well my dress would stand up against the blacktop, I tried to ease my anxiety by mentally reminding myself this was only our first official date and Eric shouldn’t have an EZ-Pass to gain access into my tunnel anyway.
Not tonight, at least.
“No, of course I don’t mind” he replied, with his voice pulling me back from the brink of hyperventilation while he reached out and turned the A/C on himself. But then he nearly put my heart into AFib when he added, “Sookie? Are you feeling alright?”
“I’m fine,” I lied.
Not as fine as you are Mr. Only-Gets-Better-Looking-As-He-Gets-Older.
We were probably around the same age and at one time that was an added point in his favor, but now I didn’t know how to feel. Maybe it was thanks to my earlier assing of myself when I’d assumed Pam and her friend were his dates, but he hadn’t looked out of place dancing with either one of them. He could easily walk around with a woman half his age on his arm and no one would think twice about it.
I looked like a mom.
A tired mom.
A tired sweaty mom.
So what did that make me? Not a cougar, but…what do you call a woman who dates a man similar to their own in age, but one who could easily get a much younger version of said woman?
A menace to the Generation Y Society?
Somewhere in between the two?
But when he took my hand and I looked over to see his concerned face staring back at me it was enough to break me out of my mini mental breakdown. So I tried to find that sassy bitch – the one who was still hiding underneath my stretch mark covered yellow belly – and answered his unspoken question by admitting, “I’m just a little nervous I guess.”
Looking a little shocked, he asked, “Why?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I nervously chuckled. “Could it be because this is the first real date I’ve gone on since I was a teenager? Or maybe because you look like you just walked off of the cover of GQ and I feel like I should be doing a commercial for estrogen replacement therapy? Or how about it’s been so long since I’ve been with someone that I could very well be a born again virgin?”
And I felt my skin flush even hotter thanks to my diarrhea-tic ramblings.
Way to go Sook! Why don’t you just shit all over his leather upholstery and call it a night?
I couldn’t meet his eyes now feeling like I’d flushed our date away, so I didn’t know we’d pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant until he shifted the car into park and pulled my chin up.
It only served to remind me he would have to pull my boobs up too if he ever got the chance to release them from their underwire fabrication.
Talk about A Fib.
He stared back at me – guessing my weight, maybe, because this night couldn’t get any worse – but before I could become too concerned he might have led a carnie life at some point, he leaned over the center console and kissed me. It was sweet and gentle and the longer it went on the more relaxed I became, until I was a puddle in his bucket seat.
A puddle both literally and figuratively, with a combination of bodily secretions mixed in with a multitude of emotions.
When he finally pulled away, he looked back at me and smiled saying, “You’re an idiot. Beautiful, but an idiot.”
“Thanks?” I panted, trying to uncross my eyes.
But my legs weren’t afflicted with the same problem because they were slowly parting like the Red Sea and his name was Moses.
At least I could blame the excess moisture on that.
His smile only grew as he softly shook his head and said, “You’re welcome. Now let’s go inside before I end up acting like a teenager and drag you into the backseat to try and convince you to let me take your born again virginity all over again.”
It came out as a question because I wasn’t so sure which one I was saying okay to.
Both options seemed viable at the moment.
And by the lustful look in his eyes, I would guess he was wondering which one I was agreeing to too. But because he was being a gentleman – instead of using his aspergillum to make the sign of the cross across the weeping angels in my panties before he christened my born again little man in a boat with his holy cum – he got out of the car and walked around to my side to open the door.
I really was going to hell. In fact I was feeling so sinful at the moment, I would probably burst into flames had he led me through the front door of Church’s Fried Chicken.
At least I’d have Hadley there to keep my foul ass company, if not the equally sinful fried fowl.
For now though we were seated at a cozy table for two in a swanky restaurant I hadn’t been to before, so I tried to tame my inner Whore of Babylon and only said, “This place is nice.”
“Is this your first time here?” he asked and at my nodded reply, he added, “I’m surprised. They’ve been open for business for a few years now and have a great reputation.”
“So I’ve heard,” I smiled and then chuckled, “But can you imagine Jason and Trey in a place like this?”
I could already picture them trying to add their own flavor to the ambiance of the place by having a silent farting contest and telling the unsuspecting people passing us by, “Eat this.”
Looking around at the nearly full restaurant, he turned back to me and grinned saying, “Actually, I can.”
Even Helen Keller would’ve been able to tell how gorgeous Eric was, but the fact he genuinely seemed to like my twin terrors made him inexplicably hotter to me. The very few men I’d gone out with over the years had always seemed uncomfortable with the fact I had kids and I was sure subconsciously it had colored my view of them. But Eric had seen them – not at their worst, but close – and he still seemed charmed by them. And he genuinely seemed to like me too, so instead of worrying any more about sagging bust lines, the map of SoHo across my lower Manhattan, or the fact only fifty percent of our kids were in favor of our relationship, I decided to relax and just go with the flow.
And I vowed to not bring up one hundred percent of our kids in any conversations again tonight. This night was for me and Eric, so I refused to say another word about the unholy trinity of testosterone waiting for me at home.
My mouth kept tripping over the words my brain tried to muster, but the only ones my mind could form had to do with how beautiful Sookie was.
And she was beautifully idiotic if she thought I was somehow out of her league.
She was smart. And beautiful. And sexy. And beautiful. And ambitious. And beautiful. And down to earth. And beautiful.
So once our server left with our drink orders, Sookie smiled back at me from across the table, when all I’d done so far was stare at her because I still couldn’t believe she actually agreed to date me, and said, “Penny for your thoughts.”
And not only was she beautiful, she was thrifty!
And since I’d already called her an idiot and admitted to wanting to do very bad things to her in my backseat, I figured I had nothing to lose by admitting the truth and said, “You’re beautiful.”
Her laugh was music to my ears – and an aphrodisiac to other parts further south on my body – when she replied, “I’d blame my magic mascara wand, but you’ve already seen me do my impersonation of Jim Carrey in ‘The Mask’, so thanks.”
“Then I guess what I should have said was I think you’re sssssmokin’!” I grinned, doing a little Jim Carrey impersonation myself.
“Keep it up,” she snickered and added, “And I’ll think you’ve been sssssmokin’ a little something else. For glaucoma maybe? It would explain your wonky eyesight.”
“Maybe you poked yourself in the eye with your magic mascara wand,” I countered. “It would explain why you can’t see what I see.”
But it wouldn’t explain why she was still single. Not that I was complaining.
Not one bit.
But anyone else could see how beautiful she was. There were currently three other fuckers in our immediate vicinity who couldn’t take their eyes off of her and were ignoring their dates to do so. And if they spent five minutes talking to her, her personality would only make her even more so.
Not that they would get the chance to.
Smoking marijuana would do nothing to help restore their eyesight when I ripped the orbs from their skulls.
But since I didn’t want to hog ‘the bail fund’ all to myself, I ignored them and my murderous tendencies and asked, “So how was the rest of your week?”
When we’d parted ways Wednesday night it took all of my willpower to not follow them home. And even though – technically – it had only been a day since I’d last seen her, it had felt much longer than that.
“It was good,” she smiled. “I managed to snag a meeting with Russell Edgington over lunch on Monday to put in a bid for the new Performing Arts Center, but since our company has mostly only done residential building, I’m surprised he even agreed to meet with me.”
“You don’t say,” I smiled in return. Russell Edgington was a huge deal in Shreveport and getting the contract to build something like the Performing Arts Center was an even bigger deal. The project would cost millions and would net the chosen contractor a hefty fee, so I really hoped she got it. I’d known Russell professionally for years and now knowing that our paths could be crossing in business as well, I added, “I designed it for him.”
What I really wanted to say was I’d put in a good word for her, but not knowing how she might take my unsolicited help, I kept it to myself.
What Sookie didn’t keep to herself was her suddenly shoeless foot when I felt it slide up my calf underneath the table as she smiled seductively and repeated my words of, “You don’t say…” But before I could get too turned on – and before I could make a grab for her ankle and pull it the rest of the way up my leg – her foot disappeared as she laughed out, “I can’t do it. I was going to make a joke and ask if you wanted to tag along to be Russell’s date for lunch – because I know I do nothing for him – but I can’t.”
“Moral compass won’t allow it?” I smiled, while hoping like hell if that was the case, it wouldn’t extend to what she would be willing to do with me. But at least she’d done her homework on Russell.
God knows he’d been playfully offering to ‘expand my horizons’ for years now.
“Not at all,” she smiled. “I’d pimp out my own cousin in a heartbeat if I thought it would get me the contract.” But then her expression turned more playfully subdued when she added, “But I won’t share you.”
“Good,” I immediately replied, sounding just as subdued so she would know I wasn’t playing around. Instead I was glad to see we were both on the same page and happy to be getting it out of the way now, so I added, “Neither will I.”
I knew it was technically only our first date.
And I knew our kids only thought of us as ‘dating’.
But I knew it would feel like a punch to the gut if Sookie told me she wanted to remain free to be able to date other people.
I wouldn’t know how to react to something like that when I could already feel her chain around my balls.
“So does that mean you’re my boyfriend now?” she asked, looking both unsure and amused at the same time.
It came out more like a question since Sookie didn’t look like she was so certain anymore.
But before I could panic about us suddenly being on separate pages, she chuckled, “Aren’t we a little old to be calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend?”
Now knowing where her hesitancy stemmed from, I waved her off and smiled, “The Magic 8-Ball has already declared it to be true.”
“And you can’t argue with The Magic 8-Ball,” she smirked, while gently shaking her head.
“How could you?” I asked. “It has no mouth.”
“Oh, it has a mouth alright,” she laughed. “I bet if we listen really hard, we can even hear it from here.”
Speaking of hard…
Watching her eyes dance made my dick dance around in my pants, trying to move and shake its way closer to her. But now that she was officially my girlfriend that was allowed now.
Not only did she make me feel like a teenager again with my constant erection in her presence, but she also managed to make me feel like the gangly pimply geek lusting after the head cheerleader.
But in a good way.
And thoughts of Sookie jumping around in a tight sweater and a short skirt, waving her pom-poms in the air weren’t helping my other-kind-of erectile dysfunction.
But feeling the presence of someone coming to stand at the side of our table saved me from making a fool of myself by asking Sookie to play with my pom-poms and I looked up, expecting to see our server, so I was surprised to see someone else.
Someone who had offered to serve me numerous times.
Herself on a platter.
“Eric,” she smiled and reached out, putting her hand on my shoulder. “Fancy meeting you here. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon when I left your house earlier.”
The way she’d said it made it sound like we’d met up for an afternoon tryst and my eyes darted to Sookie, hoping she wouldn’t read into anything before I could explain. But instead of looking pissed, Sookie only looked amused, so I looked back at Sophie-Anne and said, “That’s funny because I could’ve sworn I mentioned I would be taking my date out to dinner here tonight when you stopped by unannounced and offered…”
I paused then because she’d actually come right out and offered to fuck me, but I was trying to be a gentleman and didn’t want to say it out loud right there in the restaurant. Sophie-Anne was acting like Sookie wasn’t even sitting there and didn’t acknowledge her presence at all, so she didn’t see the cause for my sudden laughter.
Because she didn’t see what I saw when I glanced at Sookie and watched her pump her closed fist next to her cheek, with her tongue pushing out her opposite cheek in unison, and wearing an inquisitive look.
Sign language for asking if Sophie-Anne had offered me a blow job.
But since my eyes hadn’t left Sookie, I was able to see her quickly drop her hand and put an innocent smile on her face when I heard Sophie-Anne ask, “So I take it this is your date?”
“Yes,” I managed to say. My laughter was easily controlled hearing her disbelief that Sookie was my date, so I ignored Sophie-Anne to look back at her and explained, “Sookie, this is Sophie-Anne, my neighbor.” And glancing back at Sophie-Anne, I added, “This is Sookie, my girlfriend.”
It made no difference the title was only minutes old. She could just consult her own fucking Magic 8-Ball to ascertain the truth of my words.
“Your girlfriend?” Sophie-Anne asked, with a horrified look.
“I know,” Sookie smiled back at her, seemingly unbothered by the unwarranted cattiness she was being subjected to. I’d never even touched Sophie-Anne, so there was no cause for her attitude. “It sounds pretty ridiculous at our age, but calling him mine just sounds a little cunt-ish. You know what a cunt sounds like, don’t you?”
“What?” Sophie-Anne hissed, likely reading – correctly, I assumed – into Sookie’s inference.
And Sookie confirmed my suspicions when she smiled affably and said, “Yes, it sounds just like that!”
At the sound of his voice, Sophie-Anne quickly rearranged her features and I looked past her to see Quinn walking towards us. Seeing me he smiled and offered his hand to shake, adding, “Hey Northman. Fancy seeing you here.”
“That’s what Sophie-Anne said,” I smiled in return.
Among other things.
And after making another round of introductions, Quinn led his wife away to their table, so I looked back at Sookie and apologized, “I’m sorry about that. She’s been…uh…”
“Doggedly pursuing your bone?” she giggled.
“Yes,” I chuckled.
“Well then maybe her husband needs to put her on a shorter leash,” she offered and grinned adding, “I would hate to have to pee all over you to mark my territory, but I will if I have to.”
“She does need to learn her boundaries,” I smiled. “But before you do anything drastic maybe you could just bring Jason and Trey over so they can push hers.”
“A full on assault,” she nodded and then leaned forward, giving me an ample view of her ample cleavage, as she said, “I like the way you think.”
I blamed the view from high above the mountaintops into the valley below for short-circuiting my brain/mouth filter from the lack of oxygen when I automatically replied, “If that doesn’t work, I can think of something else you can cover me in to mark your territory.”
Smiling innocently, she asked, “Like ‘Property of Sookie’ labels sewn onto all of your clothing?”
“Not quite what I had in mind,” I smiled in return.
“Hmm,” she playfully pondered and then leaned forward even more so she could whisper, “Or were you thinking along the lines of something more cunt-ish.”
The air flowing around us turned electric. There had always been an undeniable chemistry between us, but now it seemed physically tangible and I found myself whispering in return, “Exactly.”
And there was now a ramrod straight line whispering against the crotch of my pants thanks to her dirty innuendo.
Our server returned before I could cross a fuckton of lines by pulling Sookie across – and then underneath – the table to see if her moral compass was in line with the one in my pants. Setting our drinks down in front of us, he turned to face her and asked, “Have you decided yet?”
Neither one of us had even opened our menus, but every part of me – some more than others – agreed with her wholeheartedly when she answered with a smile, “I have.”
Her sparkling eyes never left mine, as her bare foot returned to stroking my calf, when she added, “I’ll have the check.”
And as we left the restaurant hand in hand a few minutes later, I could only hope I hadn’t blurred the lines and inferred incorrectly why we were leaving so soon. But considering I was barely seated in the car when Sookie leaned over and began nibbling on my ear, the two Magic 8-Balls in my pants gave me the answer to my unspoken question.