I grab the drink menu and fan myself. “I’m fine, I swear. It’s some kind of hot flash. I’ll be OK.”
Russ snaps his fingers at a passing waitress, but not in a nasty way. She stops, a look of concern on her face. “Everything OK here, Sheriff?”
“Stacy, Miss Vita here is feeling flush.” He says these words discreetly and politely. “Could you bring us a bucket of ice so I can make her up a little cold pack?”
Stacy smiles at him, then me, then him again. “Sure thing, Sheriff.” And she’s off.
“It’s really fine,” I say. “I’m sure it will pass and that ice won’t be necessary.”
“Maybe so,” Russ says. “But it can’t hurt to be prepared.” Then he shoots me another look of concern. “Are you not hungry anymore? I would completely understand if you’d just rather go home. And of course, you can’t drive yourself. I’d be happy to take you.”
Well, that won’t do. I might be in some kind of swoon-induced fever at the moment, but I still remember my goal here. So my answer is, “No, I’m starving. Really. I’m dying for a steak.”
Not exactly a lie. I do love my meat. But I can’t let him take me home again. That defeats the whole purpose of the date. Which, despite the traitorous reactions in my body, was to make him less interested, not more.
But everything about this night is wrong. I’m the one who is infatuated with him, not the other way around. He’s not looking at me like I’m a sexy piece of meat. In fact, he’s looking at me like… “You think I’m weird, don’t you?”
His smile never falters. “I like your brand of weird, Pie. I find it intriguing. I’m curious, though—”
But I don’t hear the rest, because I’m so focused on his mouth—hyper-focused, like tunnel-vision focused on his perfect lips, on the way they might feel against mine—that the next thing I know I’m kissing him.
No. That’s not what happens. That’s not even close to accurate.
I have climbed into his lap, my fingertips mussing up his thick head of hair. My eyes trained on his. Searching for the passion I know is in there. Then I’m pressing my mouth to his and squirming my lady bits against his thickening dick underneath those tight pants. I’m panting, breathing so heavy, I might pass out. And then I pull the neckline of my dress down, exposing my bra, and I place his hand there, making him squeeze me. All the while I’m writhing in his lap, sticking my tongue down his throat, then pulling back to dirty talk. “I want to suck you. I want your fingers inside me.” Squirming, and wiggling, and twisting, and quivering. Trying my very best to make myself come, right here in the—
“Pie?”
The delusion fades and I’m still sitting in the booth next to, not on top of, Mr. Sheriff here.
I blink.
He’s just about to ask me if I’m insane when Stacy the waitress appears with one of those legit cold-pack thingies you only see in cartoons. The round kind, made of plastic, and they come with a cap. “Here you go, hon. Put this up to your head.” Then she looks at the sheriff. “She can take that home, Sheriff.”
Russ takes the cold pack and places it up against my forehead. “Thank you, Stacy.”
It does help. But only the feverish part of my new… disorder.
What? No! I can’t afford to have another disorder. I’m already afflicted with hallucinations, curses, and love spells. What more can this world throw at me?
There is a bell ringing somewhere.
I look around, but we’re so secluded in the back, between these massive potted trees, that I can’t get a clear view of anything.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to take you home?”
I’m just about to answer him when that bell starts ringing again. And I don’t know why I think this, but it feels like a summoning bell. The kind of bell you ring when you need service.
“Pie?”
“Do you hear a bell ringing?” I ask him.
He pauses to listen like a reasonable person, then presses his lips together and shakes his head. “Nope. Do… you hear a bell ringing?”
I sure can. But I’m not gonna tell him that now that I know that I’m imagining it. “Can you excuse me for a moment? I have to use the restroom.”
“Sure.” Even though I can scoot out of my side of the booth, Russ gets up with me like a trained gentleman.
I smile at him. He’s really nice. And handsome. And his pants are so tight, I can see the entire outline of his dick.
I look away quickly and head towards a hallway that has a sign for the restrooms over it. I’m probably imagining his big dick. It’s probably leftover delusions from Pell.