CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Owen
“What are you wearing?”
Tabby snorted on the other end of the line. “Could you be any more unoriginal?”
Chuckling, I sank onto my bed and looked at myself in the mirror hung above the dresser on the opposite wall. I looked happy, radiant almost. The sight actually embarrassed me, and I quickly diverted my gaze to the floor instead.
I grinned into the phone. “Hey, it’s not my fault you left and stuck me with a never-ending erection.”
Though I couldn’t see her, I knew Tabby was rolling her eyes. “You know, if it lasts longer than four hours, you’re supposed to go to the doctor,” she told me with faux seriousness. “I’ve read stories about guys having to get their penises drained and all kinds of horrible things because they just can’t get it down.”
I cringed. “If you were trying to kill the mood, I’m pleased to tell you you’re successful beyond your wildest dreams.”
While I hadn’t really had a hard-on for the entire two weeks since Tabby returned to Chicago, it felt like it. Every night, I fell asleep with a thick throbbing in my groin as images of her body tangled in my sheets floated across my mind. Attempts to remedy the situation alone hadn’t been any help, and though the cybersex sessions we’d engaged in over Skype alleviated my restlessness in the moment, I quickly reverted back to feeling unfulfilled when we said our goodnights and disconnected. There simply wasn’t a replacement for Tabby, virtual or otherwise.
It wasn’t just her body that I obsessed over. Throughout my workdays, I found myself reaching for my phone to send her a text just to get back a message laden with snarky comments and pearls of wit. Arturo had made me a pancake breakfast a couple days ago, and the smell of the syrup made me long to hear her sleepy groans again as I tried to wake her up. Driving through the French Quarter on the way to my office was dismal, and even visiting Maw brought with it tiny pangs of wistfulness. I wanted to be able to capture a glimpse of her smile at any moment’s notice, or watch the excited awe take over her face as she snapped picture after picture, or feel her hand wrapped in mine.
I missed her.
It was a sobering fact. I hadn’t missed anyone since I was a young kid and my parents went on their first and only couple’s trip, a week in Atlantic City. There had been times, especially initially after leaving home, that I’d wished to be waking up in my own house rather than in a dormitory with a bunch of people I didn’t know, but I hadn’t felt that true hollowness of yearning for many, many years. I did now, and I didn’t care for it, but there was also something comforting in knowing I was able to miss someone.
Although, I didn’t just miss someone. I missed Tabby. The distinction was important.
“A tank top and boxers.”
I looked at my phone, unsure if the line had broken up or if I’d actually heard her correctly. “What?”
“You asked what I’m wearing. A tank top and boxers,” she said.
“Huh.” An image bloomed in my mind, and a tent pitched in my pants. “Those boxers better be mine.”
“Yep. I stole them out of your hamper. I find dirty underwear has a much more pungent smell than clean.”
I almost wished she was telling the truth. The idea of Tabby curled on her bed in a pair of my boxers was surprisingly sexy. “You really have a thing for taking the sensual and twisting it into something grotesque,” I informed her.
“Well, you accused me of thieving your underpants,” she dodged. “If you must know, I got them out of a discount bin at Walmart. Boxers are way more comfortable than panties for lounging at home.”
This piqued my interest. “Does that mean you’re naked under those boxers?”
“Yes, it does,” she replied, mimicking my sneaky lilt.
I groaned. “It would be so easy for me to just slip a hand up one of those wide leg openings and make you come until you soak my wrist right now.”
She couldn’t hide her tiny gasp, but she sounded as coolheaded as usual as she said, “If you have an arm that can stretch a thousand miles, pick several locks, and somehow find my leg openings, you are in the wrong business, my dear.”
“Hold on,” I interjected. “I have to find my sheet.”
“Your sheet?”
“My tally sheet.” I grinned into the phone. “Your smart remarks are adding up at an exponential rate, sweetheart. If these were projections for next year’s sales, I’d be writing my biggest check yet.”
Again, I caught an intake of breath from her side of the call, and my dick twitched. What I would’ve given to hear that breath in my ear at that very moment. “You just used investment humor on me,” she pointed out. “I hope you realize you’ve sunk to a new low.”
“I haven’t even begun to sink,” I quipped. She gave a soft laugh, and a thrill raced down my spine at the sound. “Goodnight, kitten.”
Her voice softened. “Goodnight, funny man.”
I ended the call with a stupid teenage grin on my face and a lightness in my stomach. Since her departure, we’d been in the habit of texting all day every day and either calling either via phone or webcam every night, but I still had that same sensation of elation when we hung up like I did in high school after getting off the phone with my crush. It was so embarrassing, I couldn’t even face my own reflection before bed anymore, but it was worth it.
A knock sounded on my bedroom door, and I looked up in surprise. It was going on eleven. The staff never bothered me this late. Getting up, I strode to the door and opened it to find Dieter.
“Pardon the interruption, Mr. Driscoll, but you have a visitor,” he said apologetically. “I advised her to leave a message with me and perhaps get in contact with you in the morning, but she is insisting upon seeing you.”
My heart jumped into my throat. I’d just spoken to Tabby, but it had been on the phone rather than a video call. Had she been fooling me into thinking she was at home in bed when she was actually in New Orleans, waiting for me downstairs in my foyer? It was a thought too good to be true, but I was eager to find out.
“No problem,” I assured him, excitement blossoming in my stomach. “I’ll see her.”
He nodded and stepped aside, allowing me to pass him and make my way down the hallway to the staircase. The moment I reached the landing, however, all hope dissipated from my being.
It wasn’t Tabby. It was Pippa.
“Look at you,” she said admiringly as I descended the steps. Her eyes roved my shirtless chest and loose-fitting lounge pants. “I’ve never seen you so casual.”
“What do you want?” I asked coldly, crossing my arms and walking just near enough to her to have a relatively quiet conversation.
“You,” she responded without flourish.
I stared at her unflinchingly. “So?”
“So, here I am.” She put her hands on her hips and twisted from side to side, making sure I saw how tightly her sequined dress clung to her swollen ass.
“Yeah, look, I’m not interested,” I said, not bothering with niceties.
She scoffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. I noticed several small but unblended streaks of spray tan on her neck. “Why, because you think you’re all set with that plain Jane you brought to The Club a couple weeks ago?” she jabbed. “Please. You know as well as I do that she can’t do it for you. I know what you like. I know how to give you what you need. You can’t tell me she can give you what you want the way I can.”
My blood started to boil. I actually felt it simmering in my veins, burbling and popping with searing heat. Pippa could say whatever she wanted about me, that I liked prostitutes or any other slander she could muster up, but hearing her speak so foully of Tabby sent me into a tailspin of rage unlike anything I’d experienced in recent years.
“Actually, you never gave me what I need,” I snarled. “You were like off-brand chocolate. Second choice, but it had to do in a pinch.”
Her falsely-bronzed face started to redden, but unlike Tabby’s cheeks when they turned pink, I found the image repulsive rather than alluring. She took a step forward, the click of her platform heel bouncing up to the ceiling and reverberating back down again. “You know what? If you want to spend your time banging a gremlin and destroying your reputation, be my guest. I just figured I’d do you a favor and throw you a lifeline. You know everyone at The Club is talking about your bitch, right? It’s only a matter of time before the money and the glamour gets to her and she dumps you for one of them.”
“Get. Out.”
I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t even speak at a normal volume. My tone was low, and my words were coarse, but the command echoed through the foyer as if I’d bellowed at the top of my lungs.
Pippa stared at me for a second, sizing me up, then scoffed once more. She turned and stormed from the house, not bothering to close the door behind her. I watched her retreating back and her swaying hips, and for the first time in my life I felt disgusted by my association with The Club.