"And loverboy decided she was the greatest thing since sliced bread and tried to hook up with her again. Too bad, so sad." Lida gave a hearty laugh and slapped her thigh. "Men can be so dumb."
"So why not look him up now?" Gail refilled her cup.
"Things are different now. Lots different."
"I think you should call him." Pam nodded firmly. "Sex good enough to put a blush on your face twelve years later is good enough to look up again."
"You know, the best sex I ever had was with the computer nerd who came to install my modem," piped up Marla in a dreamy voice. "The things that man could do with his hard drive...."
The room exploded with laughter, and in another five minutes Arden's situation was forgotten as the women began swapping stories again. Relieved to no longer be the center of attention, Arden listened and laughed with her new-found friends, and when the party began to break up just as dawn was streaking the sky, she made her slightly bleary way down the street to her own little house and headed straight for bed.
She paused, one hand on the newel post, her eyes going without effort toward the small closet off the kitchen she'd turned into her home office. The computer was in there, the flat screen iMac that had become her dearest friend in the months following Jason's death. She shopped online, kept in touch online, joined grief support groups, banked and rented movies online. She'd also, more than once, looked up names, addresses and telephone numbers on the 'net.
Her bed called her--her vast, empty bed--and though her eyes drooped with weariness, the thought of sliding between sheets unwarmed by a companion did not appeal to her. The girls were with Arden's parents for the entire weekend, a treat they loved and she tolerated because she knew they loved it. Without the pull of small hands and constant childish chatter she felt more than alone. She felt lonely.
However, Maeve and Aislin wouldn't be home until Sunday morning, more than twenty-four hours from now, and she had no plans for tomorrow other than finishing up a dress she'd been commissioned to sew. She could sleep in tomorrow. The search would only take a few minutes...
Her feet moved before she knew it, and her fingers found the familiar grooves of the keyboard buttons. It took her two seconds to pull up her favorite search engine, to type in his name and their town, and to get a list of possible matches.
She clicked on the first and brought up another screen with additional information on it. Not the right Shane Donner, whose middle initial, she recalled was "N" not "L." Another couple of clicks and she went through the other listings, which were incomplete. She hit the jackpot on her fourth try.
"Bachelor Number Four," she murmured, looking at the screen.
Shane N. Donner, owner/operator Donner's Specialty Construction. The listing gave an address, a phone number...and an email address.
Her fingers flew over the keys, typing out a message before she could think to stop herself. Something simple, bland, non-aggressive. "Hi. How are you?"
"Will you go with me? Yes, No, Maybe, circle one," she muttered, well-aware of how her words echoed in the empty house. "Just like in eighth grade, geez."
She hesitated before hitting send, thought of erasing the message entirely, but again the sting of winter wind slipped across her skin and the taste of smoke and bourbon made her swipe her tongue across her lips. It had been really great sex. If it had ended somewhat sourly...well, they'd been young. It was a long time ago. And there was nothing wrong, really, with just a little note? Just to say hi to an old friend?
Except Shane Donner had never, not exactly, been her friend. He'd been both more and less than that, an enigma, a short-term lover who'd nevertheless rocked her world, made her laugh and made her cry. A man she'd never forgotten.
With determination, Arden clicked send. She sat back and stared at the desktop wallpaper, a montage of film clips from the Matrix film trilogy.
"Keanu, if you're coming for me, you'd better hurry up. I don't think I can save myself for you much longer."
Leaving him to ponder that, Arden went upstairs, let the shower wash away the smoke and booze and her tears, then she slipped into her bed to find a way to make her dreams stop being nightmares.
* * * *
Soft kisses whispered up Arden's thighs, toward the apex of tight curls already moist with anticipation. She shifted to let her legs slide open, to give him access to her clitoris. The moment she felt the brush of his tongue, she moaned. Loud, not even embarrassed. It felt too damn good for her to be embarrassed.
It had been so damn long. She opened herself further, ass sliding on smooth sheets that felt like satin and, therefore, couldn't possibly be hers. It didn't matter. None of this did. In fact, it was better that nothing made sense, that the puzzle pieces didn't quite fit.
She was dreaming, and knowing it didn't change how good it felt. The pleasure radiating upward from her center was better than anything her purple butterfly could give her. She used the vibrator out of desperation, for the times when sexual frustration overtook her and forced her to find release. But she always felt a little ridiculous doing it. The buzzing made her self-conscious.
Now her phantom lover licked slowly at her clit, circling it with his tongue in just the way she loved. He flicked her lightly, making her body thrum with pleasure. Arden arched her back, her head moving from side to side on the slippery sheets, static crackling along the length of her unbound hair.
A finger slipped inside her, then two, stretching. Ahh, that's so, so good. More kisses pressed her flesh, more light tongue flicks sent her surging toward orgasm. Her thighs trembled. Ecstasy coiled between her legs, tighter and tighter, until all she needed was one more kiss, one twist of her lover's hand, and she'd go over the edge.
Unlike in real life, her dream companion was tireless and focused on her without regard to his own pleasure, and in this way the dream was also better than reality.
But then, to her surprise and slight disappointment, the mouth between her legs left the place she needed it most and moved upward, over her belly (blessedly flat and unmarked with the scars of childbirth--this was, after all her dream) to her breasts. Her clit pulsed and throbbed. Her cunt clenched on the fingers still sliding so smoothly in and out of her. She lifted her hips and rolled them.
The time had come to look upon her dream lover's face, to see who was bringing her such ecstasy. It was silly to worry about something like this in a dream, no matter how powerful and realistic, but Arden wanted to look into his eyes when she came.
She tilted her head and smiled down at him as the first ripples jerked her hips and made her belly begin to jump. She expected Keanu's almond-shaped, dark eyes, or Antonio's sultry Latin stare, maybe even Ewan's insouciant twinkle to greet her. A dream man, dream lover, fiction taken directly from the night's big screen adventures into her subconscious.
She'd even parted her lips to laugh at the choice her mind had made. What she saw instead made her gasp so loudly she heard it beyond the veil of sleep and knew her waking self had made the noise. She swam up from the dream's depths and fought waking, her orgasm so close she couldn't bear to lose it, despite the shock her mind had given her.
"Shane!"
His black hair fell long over his shoulders. Blue-green eyes the color of the Caribbean ocean blinked as he lifted his head from her lust-crimsoned nipples to give her the breathtaking grin she remembered so clearly from twelve years before.
"Arden," he whispered in the same husky, rough voice she couldn't forget, "you taste like sunshine."
And then instantly, the way it happened in dreams, his cock thrust inside her and she bore his weight on her chest, while his mouth crushed her lips and his tongue plundered her. Her body clenched and relaxed. His face faded, though the sensation of his penis sliding in and out of her lasted longer. Long enough to tilt her over the edge.
Orgasm exploded through her, and she woke, clit and heart pounding. Had she cried out? Sweat dampened her forehead and made strands of hair cling to her cheeks. Her thighs slid
against each other, aided by the slickness of her arousal. Aftershocks rippled through her in quick succession, almost like a dozen or so mini-climaxes.
Panting, Arden lay back on her pillow, mouth dry in the aftermath. "Wow."
Thank goodness her parents had the girls, so she wouldn't have to explain any strange noises to curious little ears.
Arden rolled to look at the alarm clock that had always been on Jason's side of the bed. "Wow."
She repeated the word with a different inflection, this time, less of overjoyed wonder than amazement.
She'd slept past 11 A.M.. When was the last time she'd done that? College? Arden blinked and yawned, stretched out the kinks in her back and sat up.
No hangover. A rumbling stomach. Clear eyes. And an immense, complete sense of full-body satisfaction she hadn't felt in a long, long time.
Looking at herself in the bathroom mirror, Arden couldn't help smiling. Flushed cheeks. Glowing grin. The restorative powers of good sex were indeed impressive.
She paused, mouth full of toothpaste foam, to look at herself again. Lida was absolutely right. She needed to get laid. She needed more than a solo session with her butterfly or a dream man's cock. She needed real flesh against hers. Real warmth beside her.
The small, framed photo of Jason she'd hung on the wall over the sink caught her eye, and Arden reached to touch her husband's face. "Jay, I think it's time."
He didn't protest, just kept grinning, fishing rod in one hand and trophy-trout in the other. Arden searched the photo for any sign he'd disapprove. Be jealous. Hate her from Heaven or from wherever it was he'd gone.
The picture, of course, could tell her nothing. Only her mind and heart could give her the encouragement and permission to move on with her life. She touched the frame again, then spit into the sink. Rinsed. Put the cap back on in the way Jason had never remembered to.
"I love you, Jay," Arden whispered, but just as he could not accuse her of infidelity, neither could he love her back any longer.
* * * *
Something had happened to her overnight, something so fantastic and strange she had to keep checking her reflection to make sure she hadn't woken with a tattoo that said "Open for business" on her forehead. Men--strangers--made eye contact with her in the grocery store. The gas station attendant gave her an appreciative look-over when she filled her tank. They were flirting with her!
Maybe the man at the gas station had always flirted with her and she'd just been oblivious. Now Arden smiled back at him when he returned her change. She didn't want to date him...but just seeing his interest made her look around with new eyes.
Consequently, it was way easier to get a date than she'd expected. Brian Doyle had been selling Arden notions and patterns since she'd opened the sewing shop. Today, when the jingling bell announced his arrival, Arden saw more than a salesman's smile and a nice suit, or a bag of samples and his usual gift of coffee and doughnuts.
Today, Arden saw an overture. How could she have missed it for so long? The way he lingered to chat, even after she placed her order? The extra samples he routinely included? Brian was hitting on her, and probably had been for months.
"I'm sorry to tell you I won't be back here again." Brian's words pulled her out of her musings.
"No? Why not?" Flirting didn't seem natural, but it was as though now her eyes had opened she couldn't stop the age-old dance that happened all the time between men and women.
Brian leaned on the counter. He dressed really well, she had time to note, feeling stupid she only now noticed. "They've changed my territory. I'm not going to cover this area any more."
"That's too bad." She meant it, too. Brian was a great rep. He'd always been fair...because he'd been hitting on her. That made her smile, and when she did, he zoned in on it like a fly to honey.
"Listen, Arden, I know it's short notice and all, but I was wondering if you were free tonight. For dinner."
He was asking her out. She'd decided to date and here he was, the first offer, like a sign. Arden knew better than to turn it down. She couldn't. She'd lose her courage.
"That sounds great." She thought. "It works out really well because my girls are both with friends tonight until about eight o'clock. Can we make it early?"
Brian squinched his face like he was going to say no, but then nodded. "Sure, if that's the only time you can make it."
She didn't want her first date to be an inconvenience. "If that's not good for you--"
"No, no, it's fine. How about if you meet me at Kendall's over on Walnut Street? Five o'clock?" He smiled.
How could she have never noticed his charming smile before? How white his teeth were? How much Brian looked like a male model?
"Sure. See you later," she called to Brian his way out the door.
"It's a date," he replied.
It certainly is, she thought, bemused and bedazzled a bit by the circumstances.
* * * *
"You have a what?"
Arden had to hold the phone away from her ear to counter the force of Lida's scream. "A date."
"With who? How? When did this happen?"
Arden struggled with her mascara, while she tried to talk on the phone at the same time. "His name is Brian Doyle. He's a sales rep for Bobsin Bitts. He's been coming to the shop since I opened."
"And he only asked you out today? What did you do to him?" Lida broke away from the phone to holler, "No, Henry! Superglue is not for making collages! I swear, it's like the second I get on the phone, all hell breaks loose. Which is saying something, considering the chaos when I'm not on the phone. "
Arden laughed. "It was the weirdest thing, Lida. It's like I woke up today and decided I was open to the idea of dating. And all of a sudden I started noticing men noticing me!"
"The veil has been lifted. Hallelujah!" Lida yelled again. "No! Cats do not need press-on nails! Arden, I have to go."
"You go. I'll call you tomorrow."
"You call me tonight, if you know what's good-- Henry Allen Crowley! Put that Super Glue down immediately!"
"Go," Arden urged. "I'll call. I promise."
She stared at her reflection. What had Brian seen in her eyes that was different today than the last time he'd come into the shop? Arden brushed her hair and applied lipstick, quelling her anxiety with action. Whatever it was, she hoped she hadn't lost it between this afternoon and now.
Then before she knew it, it was time for her to go.
* * * *
"So, Arden"--Brian smiled at her from over their after-dinner coffee--"where do we go from here?"
Arden put down her cup. "I'm not sure what you mean."
"You know. You've been playing hard to get for about five months now." Brian flashed her that charming grin.
"Hard to--" Arden laughed to cover her shock. "No, Brian."
His hand slipped across the table to capture hers. His finger caressed her palm, and Arden shivered...but not in a good way.
"Oh, don't be shy. I could tell you wanted to get to know me better. And hey, it's against my personal policy to get involved with clients. But now I'm no longer your rep..." Brian smiled again, his smile no longer so charming. Now it was full of teeth. Like a shark.
Arden extricated her hand without fanfare and picked up her cup to disguise her trembling fingers. "To be honest, Brian, I didn't--"
"I'm only in town for tonight," Brian interrupted, annoying her. "And I know you have to get back to your...kids."
He said the word like it was distasteful, and her face must have shown her dislike because he again cut her off before she could speak.
"I mean, kids are great, you know? Love the little ankle-biters. And I think a woman with kids knows how to treat a man."
Incredibly, while Arden sat with lips parted in shock, Brian waggled his eyebrows at her.
"Why? Because we're more desperate to keep one?" Arden demanded.
Any sane man would have backed away, but Brian was pure salesman. "Want to come back to my hotel
room with me? I can make it quick."
Arden stood. "I'm sure you can."
Brian got up, too, apparently mistaking her outrage for eagerness. "How about if you follow me? That way, you can scoot out and pick up your kids when we're done."
"I don't think so."
That smooth brow furrowed. "I don't know if I'll be able to drop you off--"
Arden broke into his speech with a laugh. "I'm sorry, Brian. I was being unclear. I shouldn't have said 'I don't think so.' I should have said no."
"No?"
"No." Arden took a step away from him. "Thank you for dinner, but there's no way I'm going back to your hotel room with you."
Fortunately the restaurant was almost empty or Brian's sneering response might have caught more attention. "I'd say that's exactly what you're looking for. All you've done for the past five months is tease me, Arden. You can't tell me you don't want a piece of this."
He stopped short of grabbing his crotch, but his gesture made his intentions clear. Arden's felt her face twist in an expression of distaste so blatant there was no way Brian could miss it. He recoiled, charming smile gone.
"Fine," he said, straightening his tie. "Consider the dinner my parting gift to you."
"Thank you," Arden said again, "but I'll be happy to pay for my half."
Brian slapped down a sheaf of bills on the table. "You'd love that, wouldn't you? Then you could be justified in turning me down. Well, too bad. I took you out, I'm paying for dinner and you can go home with a guilty conscience."
This made her brows lift in amazement. "I have nothing to feel guilty about!"
Brian leaned so close she could smell his cologne. "You led me on."
She felt like she'd been catapulted back to high school and her one and only date with the school jock. He'd tried all the same lines to get into her pants. She hadn't fallen for them at sixteen. She wasn't going to fall for them now.
"Good bye, Brian." Arden tucked her purse under her arm and turned on her heel. By the time she got to the doorway, tiny hitching gasps were threatening to turn into full-fledged guffaws. The situation didn't exactly seem as though it called for laughter, but it wasn't worthy of tears either. She got into her car and stifled a cackle with the back of her hand. Then she looked at her reflection in the rear view mirror.