“Hey, I’ve had casual hookups,” I reminded her, giving her a push back.
“Yeah, and you married this one, so…”
She had a point. But I wasn’t going to marry Gena.
I was going to do dirty, naughty, unspeakably graphic sexual things with her. And my body was one-hundred percent on board with that.
CHAPTER TWELVE
A week later, I was getting ready to have sex with Gena. On our own, for the first time. Not in front of our partners, although that encounter hadn’t really been for their benefit, since we’d completely forgotten they were in the room. Still, I wanted this time to outdo that time by a thousand.
I was going to have to show her the Pavillon Français.
I dressed in a tight blue dress with off-the-shoulder straps and sculpted my hair in Agent Carter waves. I put on some gorgeous earrings, dahlia blossoms styled in gold and slivers of pearls. I’d gone light on my eyes to offset the bright red lipstick I’d carefully slicked on. I looked so good I grabbed my phone and did a mirror selfie.
I didn’t want to seem eager, but I was waiting in the formal living room when the bell rang, and I high-tailed it for the foyer before she could press it, again.
“Couldn’t wait to see me, huh?” she teased when I answered the door out of breath and teetering in my royal blue pumps.
She looked gorgeous, but I felt overdressed. She’d come in a long black maxi skirt and a dark tank top, her hair loose, the curls straightened. She looked like an art student.
Which I suppose made sense, since she
was on this whole new, artistic life.
“You look fantastic,” she said, her cheeks reddening. “I’m really sorry, I should have made more of an effort.”
I motioned her inside and shut the door behind her. “Listen, this is the first time in a long time that I’ve felt remotely hot. Let me go all out.”
“I am not complaining.” She looked around the foyer and rocked on her heels. “So…”
“Yeah, so.” And then, I walked straight to her, pulling her into my arms. She held my face as our lips met, as our tongues slid together hungrily. My hands wandered down her back, over her butt, bunching up her skirt in my fists.
Were we going to make it out to the Pavillon?
I pulled back. “Wait, wait!”
“Oh, right,” she said, flushing from neckline to hairline. “I can’t believe I forgot.”
She fished around in her purse and pulled out a few folded sheets of paper. “This is from a month ago. I haven’t been with anyone since then, but I don’t know what kind of precautions you want to take.”
“Oh, um.” I hadn’t thought about this part. “To be honest, it’s been a while for me. I’ve been with Neil and with our lover, and neither of them have been with anyone else, but it’s really up to you.”
Was it weird and self-destructive of me to want to say “to hell with it” in regards to protection? Or did I just feel safer because she had a vagina, even though I knew that had nothing to do with it?
“Do you want to just be bad?” Gena asked, clearly on the same track that I was.
“I do. I trust you, and I trust myself.” I shrugged. “And, to be honest, this feels like a risk. A safe one, but still. Being a tiny bit reckless feels good, right now.”
She took a step toward me, clearly leaning in for another kiss. I put my hand on her chest to stop her. “Not yet. I had something special planned.”
“This is pretty special,” she breathed. Then, she squinted at me. “Oh, my god, your lipstick hasn’t budged.”
“Long-wear. It’s Maybelline, but don’t tell anyone or I’ll lose my rich fashionista cred.” I motioned to the door. “Do you mind driving? We’re not going far.”
She raised an eyebrow but nodded, and we headed to her car.
“Go that way,” I said, motioning that she should follow the circular drive around. “But don’t go all the way over to the main road. Take that smaller one to the left.”