The Next Best Thing (17 page)

After leaving work, I headed straight over to McCormick & Schmick's Restaurant, where Vincent was already waiting for me in the lobby. Once we were seated at a table, and had ordered cocktails and appetizers, I pulled out my notes and started painting a vivid picture of my vision for Dawn's Old Hollywood–inspired sweet sixteen party.

I planned to recreate a 1930s supper club in the same historic country club mansion where I was to have had my wedding reception. The kids will be dressed to the hilt in elegant eveningwear. I envisioned the birthday girl dripping in diamonds, with marcel waves, and a fur stole.

There will be a red carpet, klieg lights, dozens of photographers, and a fleet of antique Rolls Royce limousines for the guests to arrive in.

Inside the venue, roving waiters will serve hors d'oeuvres, while a live band plays onstage. Soft lighting, tons of cream satin, and a special VIP room for Dawn and her closest friends.

“There should definitely be a classy, sit-down dinner, and even restroom attendants offering gum, mints, lotion, and perfume,” I said.

As I talked, Vincent stroked his goatee and nodded his approval as he could see it all playing out in his head.

“It's going to be very Gatsby-esque,” I assured him, taking a sip of my mojito.

“That all sounds good, Tori, and I'm sure Dawn is going to love it,” he said, caressing my legs up under the table. “But you know something? I'll bet you haven't had multiple orgasms since the last time I gave them to you.”

Cocky bastard. With Nelson being the exception, the sad part is, Vincent is absolutely right. Roland wasn't bad in bed, but let's just say that being older, Vincent has much more
experience
, as well as a special talent for going downtown.

“I see you still consider yourself God's gift to women,” I retorted, having a flashback of the way he rolled his tongue like an ocean wave and used the tip of it to tease my clitoris with light feathery licks.

“Not
all
women, but I am God's gift to you.” Vincent grinned with confidence. “And what's more, I would really like to eat you out right here, right now.” He moistened his lips with that extremely long tongue of his, and despite vowing to never have any more sexual dealings with this man, I felt my honey pot getting hot and moist with the anticipation of Vincent's familiar touch.

The chemistry between us was so strong that nothing else needed to be said. I finished what was left of my mojito, while Vincent left more than enough money to cover the bill. We practically raced each other towards the exit.

Vincent left his car at the restaurant, and rode with me for the short drive over to my place. We got in my Navigator and before I could even buckle my seat belt, his hands were all over me and his tongue was swirling around in my right ear.

Vincent ripped my leopard-print Donna Karan blouse open, and went to work nibbling on my breasts as if they were two long-lost friends that he was extremely happy to see again.

I wasn't worried about anyone seeing what was going on inside my vehicle because my windows are tinted, but I was concerned about getting into a car accident.

“We're almost there,” I said, pushing Vincent away while trying to stay focused on the road. “Can't you wait?”

“No…” Vincent said, putting a hand up my skirt and going straight to my clitoris, which he gently massaged with his fingers. “Tori, you just don't know…I have been dreaming about being with you again for so long, that I would fuck you right in the middle of rush hour traffic if you would let me.”

“We can't do that,” I moaned, as he plunged his fingers deeper inside me.

McCormick & Schmick's is less than five minutes away from my building, but it seemed like it took an eternity to get from the restaurant up to my condo. Once there, we started stripping off each other's clothes right in the foyer. I grabbed Vincent's penis with eager anticipation, and was alarmed to find that there was no magic in his magic stick. Instead of being rock hard and standing at attention, his penis was shriveled as a prune, and as soft as pudding.

“Just let me taste you,” he said apologetically. “That should have me ready in no time.”

Vincent did his thing, and his skills brought on the multiple orgasms that are his specialty, but he never did get it up. Hot oil massage, pleasure balm, honey dust—nothing worked. I was so embarrassed for Vincent that I didn't want to embarrass him further by asking him the cause of his impotence.

Instead, I was understanding and supportive.

“Don't worry about it,” I said, rubbing his back. “I'm more than satisfied.”

Truthfully, I was hugely disappointed.

I'd had a couple of explosive orgasms from the foreplay, but damn it, I wanted to close the deal. Especially after all of that anticipation.

Vincent admitted that he had purposely sought me out, and that he wanted to be back in my life for the long haul.

The timing was wrong before, but maybe we could make it work at this point in our lives.

“I'm so happy to have you back in my arms again,” Vincent said, while lovingly caressing my face.

“I'm happy too,” I said, wrapping both arms around him and squeezing him tight.

And we stayed that way for a couple of hours, until I took him back to the restaurant to get his Jaguar and we parted ways from there.

I see us in a real relationship this time.

Minus the game playing, the wife at home, and all the lies. Just him and me. Straight up, with no chaser.

Two weeks after Vincent and I became reacquainted, Yvette, Nadia, and I met for happy hour at the Kona Grill to unwind and catch up. Unfortunately, Simone couldn't make it because she was working one of her many jobs.

The latest is that Alicia is down in Atlanta, loving college life, and after eighteen years of dedication and service, Yvette will be out of a job soon because more cutbacks are on the horizon over at AT&T.

Nadia is progressing steadily with Terrell, aka Mr. Steroid, despite the fact that he said in the latest issue of
Sports Illustrated
that he considers himself to be “very single and looking for that one special woman.”

“That's like a slap in the face,” I told Nadia. “Essentially what he is saying is that you are good enough to screw around with, but not good enough to marry, or at least introduce to the public as his girlfriend.”

“It's not that serious,” Nadia said, immediately digging into the appetizers that had just arrived at our table. “Terrell just said that to make himself more popular with his female fans. I know where his heart is.”

Yvette and I looked at each other and shook our heads. Clueless should be Nadia's middle name.

“I wish Simone was here,” Yvette said to Nadia. “She would be all over your ass right now.”

“I know,” Nadia replied. “And I wonder what she would say about Terrell offering to pay to get my boobs done.”

Yvette and I gasped in unison.

“That's not a good sign,” Yvette said. “I mean, you practically just met this man and he's already trying to change you.”

“He's a boob man, and if I want to land the big fish, I gotta do whatever it takes to make him happy, right?” Nadia sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than Yvette and me. “Besides, I was already thinking about getting them done anyway.”

Ever since I've known Nadia, she has always been self-conscious about the small, A-cup mosquito bites she has for breasts. But still.

“Nadia,” I said. “I know you're hoping that somewhere down the line Terrell will ask you to marry him, but it's not smart to make such a drastic change at the request of a man that's not your husband.”

“That's right,” Yvette chimed in. “You're trying to be a trophy wife, but the shelf-life for trophy wives is extremely short. Once things start sagging, wrinkling and not looking so cute, it's over. On to the next young babe.”

“And now you're talking about mutilating your body?” I asked Nadia, feeling deeply sorry for her. “Whatever happened to being happy with how the good Lord made you?”

“You hypocrite!” Nadia said, wagging her finger in my face. “Tori, you're forever complaining about saddlebags and cellulite. Now you want to front like there isn't anything about yourself that you'd change.”

“There isn't!” I said. “Especially not if I had to have surgery to change it. Now, if I could just get a shot or pop a pill, then yes, I'd try something. But do you actually know how breast implant surgery is performed? Girl, they cut your nipples off and put them on the table!”

“Ewww!” Yvette said, covering her breasts as if they hurt from just the thought of it.

“Well, I don't really care,” Nadia said. “As long as they look good afterwards. I think I'm gonna go with like, a 38 Double-D.”

“Oh, you're going for the stripper tits,” I said, snatching up the last piece of calamari before Yvette could finish off the whole platter by herself.

“That's right,” Nadia said. “Go big or stay home.”

“Well, I don't see anything wrong with cosmetic enhancements,” Yvette said. “But I would never get breast implants, though. I've heard way too many horror stories.”

“That's easy for you to say,” Nadia retorted. “You already have big, bodacious tah-tahs.”

“Yvette's a size eighteen,” I said. “She's supposed to have big boobs.”

“I'm a sixteen now,” Yvette snapped. “Thank you very much!”

“All I know is that if you keep this weight loss up, you're not going to be able to get into Club Heifers anymore,” Nadia told Yvette.

“And that's just fine with me,” Yvette said, striking a model pose. “They're just gonna have to be one heifer short!”

“Okay, okay,” I said between bites of my Maui taco. “Who's got the dirt?”

“Ooh! I do! I do!” Nadia said, like a sugar-crazed third grader.

I rubbed my hands in anticipation. “Well, let's hear it.”

“Well,” Nadia said dramatically. “A certain somebody who shall remain nameless, but is sitting at this table, has recently been spotted in the company of a handsome, older gentleman who creeps in and out of her place at all times of the day and night.”

Damn that Nadia with her nosy ass.

I gave Yvette a puzzled look. “Is it you?” I asked.

“Shit, I wish!” Yvette said. “I could use an old sugar daddy in my life, especially with Alicia's college tuition bill kicking my butt the way it is.”

Silence fell over the table for a few minutes.

I kept my eyes on Yvette's face and could almost see the wheels turning in her head.

“Wait a minute…So if it's not me or Nadia,” said Yvette, slowly putting two-and-two together, “that leaves you, Tori!”

“Bingo!” Nadia said happily, sipping her sangria.

I was nowhere near ready to discuss Vincent with anyone just yet and certainly not Yvette, who hates him with a passion because of the way he treated me back in the day.

All eyes were on me and inquiring minds wanted to know.

“So what's his name, girl?” Yvette asked me, all excited.

“That's not important right now,” I said, glaring at Nadia. “I didn't bring it up to you guys because the relationship is so new, I don't want to jinx it.” I busied myself trying to fish the maraschino cherry from my Long Island iced tea.

“What does this guy look like?” Yvette asked Nadia, suspiciously.

“He's on point, I'll tell you that. He's tall, good looking, and built solid for a man in his forties,” Nadia said. “
And
judging by that red Jaguar and the way he dresses, the man definitely has his bank account up.”

“You better say it ain't so,” Yvette interjected, looking like she wanted to reach over and slap the taste out of my mouth. “Just please tell me Nadia is not talking about who I
think
she's talking about.”

“Who, Yvette?” Nadia asked, excitedly.

“Just some ole no-good married sonofabitch who drug Tori's heart through the mud for a couple of years and then stomped on it.”

“Oooh!” Nadia said. “Scandalous!”

“Don't you think you're jumping the gun a little bit?” I asked Yvette. “I mean, the man in question could be someone entirely different for all you know.”

“Is it Vincent?” Yvette asked me, almost threateningly. “Yes or no? It's a simple question.”

“Okay! Yeah,
and
?” I said. “
So
?”

“
So
what the fuck are you thinking?” Yvette said loud enough for people to turn and stare. “You have got to be stuck-on-stupid and double-parked-at-dumb to get hooked up with that bastard again, Tori. Have you forgotten all those times I sat with you while you cried enough tears to drown in, over his sorry ass? Because I sure haven't.”

“Look, that's all old news, okay? Now can we please change the subject, because really, when it comes down to it, it's no one else's business.”

“Bull
shit
!” Yvette snapped. “The people I love are my business and somebody needs to pull your coattails until you get it through your head that you don't dip back,
ever
.”

“Even I go by that philosophy,” Nadia agreed, giving me a
shame-on-you
look.

“That's right,” Yvette said adamantly. “When it's over, it's over.”

“Oh, that's rich as hell coming from Miss I'm-still-sleeping-with-my-ex-husband-even-though-he-divorced-my-ass-and-married-someone-else,” I said to Yvette.

“No you didn't!” Yvette said. “You don't want me to get started on your situation, Tori.”

Meanwhile, Nadia was shocked. “You and Ant still get busy from time to time?” she asked Yvette.

“Me and Andre have a daughter together.”

“So that entitles him to a lifetime supply of coochie anytime he wants it?” I asked.

“Look, I cut that creeping-with-my-ex shit out a long time ago,” Yvette said. “And Tori, if you're smart, you'll do the same thing and not let that sneaky son of a bitch worm his way back into your heart and your panties again.”

Yvette was so upset that I didn't have the heart to tell her that Vincent had already done just that.