Providence (The Velvet Series Book 2) Page 13

  “Yeah, all good. You going to answer my question though? I won’t go if you don’t want me to.”

  “You should, I think it’ll be fun.” I also think about who else is likely invited and realize something that does not sound like a lot of fun for me. “Besides, if you don’t come I’ll probably be the only single person at dinner.”

  “I take it your date Sunday night didn’t go well.” We continue circling one another, each waiting for the other to make a move. Remembering the disastrous date distracts me momentarily. Arranged by one of the anesthesiologists, I grudgingly agreed to meet his sister if for no other reason than to get him to stop pestering me about it. He booked a reservation for us at a nice Italian restaurant for Sunday evening. I arrived a few minutes early, while she arrived fifteen minutes late. Already annoyed by her inability to show up on time, it quickly became apparent that we had next to nothing in common. We both quickly ate our meals in silence and split the bill. I don’t think either of us could get out of there fast enough. I focus again just in time to see Katrina coming at me. I have little time to react. I attempt to backpedal but end up tripping over my own feet, taking myself down. I’m not sure if she tried to catch me or if I trip her as well, but somehow I find myself laying with my back against the mat, Katrina on top of me with my legs locked around her, just above her hips. She squirms in an attempt to break the leg lock, and every nerve ending in my body ignites as she inadvertently grinds against my sex. I audibly inhale through my clenched teeth, my back arches upwards into Katrina and I feel my eyes roll back and close of their own accord. When the sensation passes, I open my eyes to find Katrina’s face a few inches from mine, staring at me. She knows what just happened. Her silver eyes bore into me, and I stare back at her. My now throbbing sex is demanding I close the short distance between our lips and try to get some more of the attention it so desperately craves. My brain is sounding alarms like it’s at Defcon 1, telling me taking it any further might be one of the worst ideas in the history of mankind. Katrina’s eyes search my face, and I see her bite the inside of her lower lip. I wonder if her mind and body are fighting the same war that mine are. I feel Katrina’s hand tap against my thigh, and instinctively unlock my ankles to release her. She carefully elevates herself off of me before standing up. She helps me to my feet, but I can tell that she is avoiding making eye contact with me.

  “I gotta get going, a lot of stuff to get done at the house. See you Friday night?”

  “Won’t you be at class tomorrow night?”

  “Tomorrow is moving day remember?” I did remember because I had tried to clear my schedule to help her, but she insisted that I not, that the movers were going to do all of the work anyway.

  “I remembered,” I say as I watch Katrina jog up my basement steps. A few seconds later I hear the front door close. I stand in the basement dumbfounded, unable to sort out everything that just transpired. Katrina? Really? Have I been ignoring some building attraction to her or did I simply consider kissing her because of proximity and sexual frustration? Are things between us doomed to be forever awkward now?

  *****

  Friday night I find myself filled with anxiety as I shower and prepare to meet everyone for a night out. I haven’t heard from Katrina since she left Wednesday evening, nor have I tried to contact her. I nearly called her to see if she wanted to share a ride, but chickened out as I stared at her contact information on my phone.

  The driver deposits me near the entrance of the restaurant, and I find myself standing outside staring at the door, hesitant to go in. I finally dial up my courage and head inside letting the hostess know that I’m here for the Waters party. I follow her, as requested, and am glad to see that they have placed us in a private room, knowing we have a tendency to get a little loud when we all get together. I look around to discover that only Catherine, Alex, Taylor, and Nikki are present, thus far. For some reason I feel a sense of relief settle in, Katrina’s actions when she arrives will speak volumes about where things stand between us. I walk around the table and take a seat opposite the door, near Catherine and Alex. I order a margarita and watch the door anxiously.

  “A tequila kind of night?” Most people who know me know I tend to stick to whiskey, so the question doesn’t surprise me.

  “The weather is warm and I plan on dancing later. Why not?”

  “Why not indeed. Shots then?” Taylor’s suggestion actually sounds like a good idea. When the waitress returns with my margarita, I order a round of Patron shots for the five of us. We finish our toast, and I’m in the middle of taking my shot when the hostess escorts Katrina into the room. I nearly choke as I fight to properly swallow the sharp flavored liquid. She’s wearing a form-fitting shirt with an extremely plunging neckline. I follow the neckline down to its end, showcasing the top of her breasts, which seem to be threatening to tumble out at any moment. My tongue reflexively runs over my lips. The sound of someone clearing their throat brings me back to earth. I look away, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

  “You alright?” Alex leans in and whispers so only I can hear. I nod that I am, still waiting to see where Katrina sits. I see her do something on her phone before she makes her way around the table and sits next to me, that plunging neckline monopolizing my peripheral view. Taylor shoots me a look from the other side of the table, but I ignore her, refusing to be goaded or add to the tidal wave of emotions I feel myself starting to drown under. Catherine catches my eye and gives me an inquisitive look. That’s when I know that they all saw my reaction to Katrina’s entrance. The hostess returns with Katrina’s drink, and I take advantage of the opportunity to ask where the restroom is, even though I’m quite familiar with this establishment. I stand up and excuse myself.

  “Want another shot, Sara?” Catherine practically purrs as she asks the question.

  “Sure,” I answer as I walk out the door. I don’t need the bathroom, just a few minutes away from the knowing looks I’m getting and the distracting view of Katrina in that shirt. I can still clearly picture it when I close my eyes. I turn on the cold water and splash some on my face, happy that I never wear makeup. I feel my phone vibrate as I’m patting my face dry. The message is from Katrina, asking if we’re ok. I send her a response that I think we are and head back to face the firing squad. Abby, Blake, Derrick, Dahlia, Shannon, and Kevin have all joined us in my absence. So has the next round of shots. I take my seat as Katrina checks her phone, probably reading my response.

  “Did you drive?” I can feel her eyes on me and see the distracting view in my sideways glance.

  “Took a Lyft. You?”

  “Same.” We hoist our shots and toast to having a great night. I open my menu and immediately search for carbs, something to soak up the bottle of alcohol it seems I’m going to be drinking tonight. I feel a mounting pressure for things to be normal between Katrina and me, I need to start a conversation with her, to not feel awkward talking to her.

  “How did the move go?”

  “Good, I’m mostly settled into the condo. Somehow the movers and the cable guy all showed up on time. I finished unpacking late last night. Slept half the day today.”

  “I meant to message you but…” I trail off realizing I should have come up with an excuse before I opened my mouth.

  “Yeah, it got a little…” Ok, this officially feels awkward, something I’ve only felt around Katrina a few times. “It wasn’t intentional you know. I was trying to break the leg lock when I saw your reaction. Full disclosure, I wasn’t sure what to do. I’ve been so concupiscent lately that I thought about trying my luck. But then you were looking at me, and I realized that you had seen the look on my face, I was sure you had read my thoughts, so I had to leave.” I chuckle, unsure if knowing we were having the same thoughts makes this any less awkward or not. “Why are you laughing?”

  “No reason. Concupiscent isn’t a word you hear every day. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard it used in a sentence actually.” We both start laughing the
n.

  “What are you two whispering about over there?” Derrick’s voice carries across the table, all other conversations stop, waiting for our answer.

  “Just one of those had to be there moments.” It isn’t a lie, but I’m not sure I want anyone else to know. Katrina starts laughing again, and I can feel the air between us shift back to the familiar atmosphere we shared before the incident in my basement.

  It’s still relatively early when we arrive at Velvet, meaning it’s easy for us to procure one of the few tables the place offers. Unable to drink, Shannon claims the table for our group as the rest of us line up at the bar to order. “Do you play pool?” Katrina asks as we step away from the bar.

  “Sure.” We head upstairs and find one of the empty tables, the rest of our group electing to pass. “Traditional game, 9-ball or something else?” Katrina eyes me warily. “Traditional it is. Who’s breaking?”

  “All yours.” She racks the balls properly, earning an unspoken kudos from me. I chalk the tip of my cue and place the cue ball in my preferred breaking spot. The crack of the cue ball making its connection is music to my ears. I watch as the balls scatter around the table and see the 14 drop into the corner pocket. “Stripes are yours.” I assess the situation before me, trying to think at least three shots ahead. Confident in my game plan I align my shot on the 15 and call the side pocket. I gently tap the cue ball with the proper English to send it in the down the table toward the 10. I watch the 15 drop and head around the table to line up on the 10. I call the far corner and line up to strike with back spin, trying to ensure I’ll be in place to play the 11 next. I take my shot and watch as the cue ball heads to where I hoped it would. “I’m in trouble here aren’t I?”

  “Maybe, I’ve never seen you play.” I line up my next shot and call for the corner that Katrina is standing at. As I draw back my cue, she bends over, flaunting the view of the plummeting neckline at me. I lose my focus and hear the embarrassing sound of my cue glancing off the cue ball. “That was dirty of you.”

  “Maybe, but you never told me you’re a hustler. Gotta use the weapons you’ve been given.” Touché I think to myself. I watch as Katrina goes to work, easily sinking the 3, then the 6, followed by the 2. Who was she calling a hustler? I scramble to think of a way to turn the tables and finally remember how she looked at me the morning she saw me in my basement those many months ago. Luck would have it that I’m already standing near the pocket she calls for her next shot. I wait for her to lean over and line it up then slowly lift the lower edge of my shirt, revealing my toned abs. She catches me a split-second before her cue makes contact, her movement enough to change the angle of her strike. Neither of us watch as the ball caroms off of the side rail. Katrina’s silver eyes gaze hungrily at my abs, and I stare lustfully at her cleavage. The alarms in my head go off again, so I lower my shirt and silence them with another drink. “Who’s the dirty one now?”

  “You said it yourself, gotta use the weapons you’ve been given.” Why am I flirting with her? Sure she’s attractive, smart, kind and a hundred other great things, but we’re just friends. I’ve never thought of her as anything other than a friend.

  “Touché,” she replies. Is she flirting back? What the hell is happening? I focus on the table, needing this game to be over. My dry spell, the memory of the near miss two days ago and that plunging neckline have me wanting to take Katrina on top of this table. I dial in, using all the focus I have in my body. I quickly sink the 13, followed by the 11, and then the 12. Katrina tries her dirty trick again, but I see it coming and block it out. I watch the nine ball roll into the corner pocket and line up on the eight. Admitting defeat, Katrina steps back and watches as I end the game. “Well played, next drink is on me.”

  “Thank you. We should check in downstairs, be a part of the party.”

  “Sure,” she says, sounding a little dejected. She crosses the room to the bar and buys our next round. Her fingers brush against my hand as she gives me my victory drink. I feel that light connection course its way to places that it shouldn’t. I’ve sparred with her several times, our sweaty bodies connecting in all sorts of places, and have never felt this response before. I need to stop this, now. Katrina leads the way down the steps to join our friends on the main floor. I follow her, but break off to head to the bathroom without saying a word. I lock myself in the stall furthest from the door and lean against the wall. I’m wound so tight that I could scream. A short-lived debate takes place in my head before my throbbing sex claims its victory. I unbutton my jeans and slip my hand inside my black lace panties and start to massage my outer lips. The music grows louder as someone enters the bathroom. My hand stills as I worry about getting caught, but I decide to turn that risk into a fun game, the danger adding fuel to the fire. I massage my outer lips over my clit in a slow circular pattern. The response is immediate, my body begging for more. Knowing I can’t be gone for too long, I give in, parting my lips and rubbing my first two fingers up and down the inside of my folds. The sensations reverberate through my body, I know I’m ready for more. I slide my fingers further back and gently circle the tip of my middle finger around my opening as my palm massages my pulsing clit. I slip my middle and ring fingers inside and start moving slowly in and out, grinding my clit against my palm with each movement. My breathing is heavy but quiet enough I’m confident no one knows what I’m up to. The door opens again, and I hear Katrina call my name. I freeze for a second, my fingers buried deep inside myself, until the image of Katrina in that shirt flashes into my mind, followed by the sensation of Katrina grinding against me the other day in my gym. It’s all I need. I focus on those images and get back to working myself. A moan escapes me as I approach my climax. I flip myself around, resting my weight on my forearm against the wall. Knowing I can’t hold back much longer I bite down on the supportive forearm and work myself into a frenzy. My inner walls contract as I fuck my own hand, thinking of Katrina the entire time. My impromptu gag works well enough to silence the noise as I finally climax. When the spasms finally stop, I pull my hand out of my pants, wiping my juices on some of the cheap toilet paper. I relax for a minute before cleaning myself up and exiting the stall to wash my hands. My flushed face greets me as I look in the mirror. I splash some cold water on it for the second time this evening and hope that the dimly lit bar will hide the discoloration until it fades.

  I exit the bathroom trying to come up with an excuse to explain my absence. I know I’ll be questioned. “What happened to you?” I barely make it back to the table before Derrick begins the interrogation.

  “Ran into a former patient.” I hate telling the lie, but it’s the safest one I can come up with, knowing that I won’t be obligated to introduce them to this imaginary person.

  “I tried to find you, must have just missed you somewhere.” Katrina eyes me, I can see the speculation written all over her face. She looks me over and her eyes freeze, locked on my forearm. That’s when I remember bitting down on it to stifle any noise. I look down to see the imprinted outline of my teeth still clearly visible. I try to nonchalantly cover the mark with my right hand but when I do Katrina looks back to my eyes, a knowing smile playing at her lips. I feel my face flush as I look around the bar, like I’m searching for the rescue boat to throw me a lifeline. The bar is filling up and people are starting to dance.

  “I’m going to dance,” I announce, hoping to escape the situation. I quickly down my drink and turn for the dance floor.

  “Finally, someone else is ready.” Taylor, Nikki and Alex get up to join me. I have no idea what song is playing but it’s up tempo and has a good beat. The four of us easily carve a space on the dance floor and forget everything else as we start our carefree movements, smiling and laughing. Song after song we dance as the sweat starts to seep out of our pores. I sneak glances back at our table when I can. I see Catherine hungrily watching Alex dance while the rest of the table seems to be having a good time laughing and joking around. A few songs later I see Catheri
ne rise from her seat and stalk towards the dance floor, her eyes never leaving her target. She skirts her arms around Alex from behind and pulls Alex’s ass into her hips. They fall into a seamless rhythm, giving everyone watching a glimpse of what their sex life is like, not caring where their hands land or who might be watching. I decide to take a break as the music changes to something slow. I head to the bar and order a drink and a shot.

  “Buy a lonely lady a drink?” I turn toward the voice to see Katrina standing next to me.

  “I’m not sure how much of a proper lady you are in that top, but sure. What’ll it be?” She smiles at me and I cringe inside, chastising myself for flirting with her again.

  “I’m glad you noticed. Whatever you’re having is fine.” I ask Sandra to double the order and give her the cash and a nice tip. Katrina and I step to the side and take our shots before heading back to the table. “I didn’t know you can dance.”

  “I didn’t know you were watching.”

  “Is there anything you aren’t good at?”

  “Plenty.” I down half of my drink in one go, wanting to dance as soon as the music changes. I notice Katrina’s eyes examining my arm again and look down to see the faint bruising occupying the space. I quickly down the rest of my drink and head to the bathroom without a word. The music switches to something up-tempo again while I relieve myself, meaning I can head straight for the dance floor and avoid sitting through another song at the table. I rejoin my friends and continue dancing the night away. The music has a little more sexual energy, but I’ve had too much to drink to care. I dance with my friends, with a few random women who join us, former clients, and by myself. At some point, Katrina joins our little dance party. I try not to watch her, by forcing myself to focus on any and everything else. The song switches to something slow and sexual, so I turn to leave the floor to get another drink. The sensation of someone pushing up against me and a pair of hands on my hips stop my escape.