56 - The Last Night

Jon was once again behind the bar, and he was beginning to wonder if he was on the verge of becoming an alcoholic.  It seemed like he was spending an awful lot of time drinking lately.  Of course, Petey Diehl could  drive anyone to drink.

He didn’t typically think of himself as a weak man, yet she’d bulldozed his resolve last night with nothing more than a little piece of velvet, a feisty attitude and some empty threats.  Even as he shook his head with self-reproach, he couldn’t help but smile around the rim of his glass.  It had been a good night.  Probably their best.

That’s why he was here, once again waiting for her to come knocking on his door.  The preparations had been made for this, the last night of Kinkapalooza, and he was pleased with what lie in store.  There was kink, but there was enough softness waiting to temper it.  He was eager to have the sounds of her pleasure filling his ears when he shared it with her.

Jon’s eyes slid to the brightly wrapped package sitting in Petey’s chair.  It somehow felt like a parting gift, and that wasn’t sitting well.  Not because he wanted to hold onto this… inexplicable relationship they had.  That wasn’t it at all.  His work had been neglected as of late, and that was all her doing.   It had been an enjoyable diversion, but it had never been intended to be more than a brief moment in time.

The first order of business, when he got back to business, would be to buy stock in Jack Daniels, Jon thought as he drained his glass. 

But she’ll be gone and the craziness will be over.  You won’t need to drink.

The distilled comfort sloshed angrily in his stomach, prompting him to put his hand up to rub absently at it.

Of course, you’ll already have an ulcer, so the damage will be done.

The ice clattered noisily into the small metal bar sink as he turned over his near-empty glass and placed it inside as well.  He was just checking his watch and wondering where the hell she was when the doorbell rang.

Petey arrived on the doorstep of the penthouse feeling a bit of melancholy swirling into her excitement.  She was anxious to see what was waiting for her inside, but knew whatever it was would be the last thing Jon would have waiting for her. 

This was it.  The last night.

She’d gone into this with nothing but reckless abandon and hormones.  On the other side, she was emerging with no regrets and priceless memories.

And something else?

Sure.  A sexuality that had been awakened and wasn’t ready to go back to sleep.  It turned out that she liked sex – a lot.  When this was over…  Well, Petey had some heavy thinking to do.  Did she go back to the solitary self-pleasure of the past three years, or did she take the part of her that had blossomed and move on to another mutually satisfying sexual encounter?

That damn stomach acid was still in residence, and it was rearing its angry head at the indecision.

I can worry about that tomorrow. Tonight I’m not going to focus on anything but him.  On us.

She frowned in annoyance as she pushed the buzzer.

There is no us.

“Evenin’, Sugar.”  The smile was nothing short of sinful invitation, but it was only natural considering that the rest of him was more of the same.  He was wearing jeans and the blue t-shirt that turned his eyes the color of the Caribbean. His feet were bare and the tiniest shiver moved her.  There was something about bare feet and jeans…

“Hi.” 

She returned his smile, and Jon memorized the unique dimples that made her fresh-scrubbed face even cuter.  As he took her jacket and she tucked her bag under the table, he noted with amusement how tiny she was.  The heels she’d been wearing lately had almost made him forget her vertical challenge, but the little black shoes she had on tonight were completely flat and offered no height incentive.

Jon’s eyes skimmed over her tight leggings and snug tee – both in the appropriate shade of black.

Imp wardrobe in place.

“Can I get you a glass of wine?” he offered over his shoulder, thinking that he could at least tolerate the pink contacts.  They were better than the red ones.  The cork had already been freed from the bottle when she gave her affirmative reply.  He’d known she would.

“So.”  Petey casually swirled her glass after taking that first drink and climbing onto the bar stool.  “Which room in your home are we going to defile tonight?”

His eyes crinkled up at the corners with the intensity of his grin, and she silently thanked whatever Interpersonal Skill Deity that been swooping past and took pity on her.  Saying just the right thing wasn’t something she did, but she must’ve done okay this time.

“You know,” he mused, stowing the wine bottle and picking up his own glass.  “I spent a while today trying to decide.”  Jon climbed onto the adjacent bar stool and spun her so that they were face to face, one of her knees positioned between his open ones.  “I almost chose this.”  He nodded at the shining mahogany surface of the bar.  “Feels like we’ve spent almost as much time here as we have in bed.” 

It did seem like all they did here was drink or have sex, she thought with a slight wince.  Or fight.  They should really get out more.

Don’t go there, Petey.  Don’t ruin your last night.

“But it’s too narrow,” he was saying.  “I am not gonna try and explain a broken leg acquired by falling off the bar in the middle of kinky sex.”

She ducked her head, laughing.

“So I chose something else.”

She lifted her eyebrow and her glass simultaneously.  “Which takes me back to my original question…”

“Patience, woman.  I’m getting there.”  Jon could’ve sworn she just flinched, but she recovered so quickly that he couldn’t be certain.  “Tonight we shall defile all of New York.”

Petey snickered.  “That would take far longer than tonight and, really, why bother?  It’s all been defiled on multiple occasions.”

He curled his fingers around her wrist and tugged her close, until their noses were almost touching.  “You are a brat.”

“No,” she corrected breathlessly, leaning back to restore a more acceptable distance between their mouths, at the same time willing her heart to slow.  “I have it on good authority that I’m an imp.”

His free hand slid into her hair and he gazed at her with bemusement.  “That you are, Sugar.  That you are.”

There was a staccato rhythm beating in her chest.  Her mind wasn’t reciting the Declaration, but it felt like her heart was sending it out in Morse code.  She scooted out of his grasp and hastily gulped the remainder of her wine while he chuckled quietly.  

He found it oddly endearing that he could still fluster her so easily with a simple touch after the things they’d done.  Would she fluster when she opened the gift he’d gotten her?  Jon suddenly itched to find out.

Easing his empty glass onto the bar’s surface, he patted her knee and slid from the stool with, “Stay there.”  A few concise strides and he returned from the seating area with her package.  He smiled at the rosiness that crept into her cheeks upon spying the red and green polka dot adorned gift.

Petey felt her eyes go wide when he returned to place a gift into her hands that was the size of a lingerie box.  She’d never expected a gift.  Why would he get her a gift?  Was it something kinky to wear for tonight?

‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house…

He waited for her to put her glass aside and passed the box into her hands, leaning forward with a soft kiss on her cheek, murmuring,  “Your lips are moving.  This isn’t anything, really, so there’s no reason to panic.”

Clamping her mouth shut, she tipped her head back and saw that he was thoroughly amused at her discomfort.  Even if her cheeks hadn’t already been warm, Petey knew without a doubt that they were now flaming.

“Thank you, but you already got me lotion.  This was really unnecessary.”  She fiddled with the metallic red curly ribbon that rioted all across the top of the box.

“All the better to smell you with, my pretty,” he teased.  “Seriously though, this is just something I saw when I was shopping for Steph.”  Jon’s broad shoulder lifted carelessly.  “I couldn’t help but think of you.”

Well that should rule out kinky lingerie, Petey thought.  Now.  Did that relieve her or disappoint her?  She couldn’t positively identify that pang in her stomach.

“Open it,” he was encouraging her while he retrieved his drink.

With a  dip of her head, she eased the ribbon off  and laid it carefully on the bar.  Then she began to methodically slide her finger under the pieces of tape holding the paper together.

“Oh, God,” he groaned.  “You’re one of those that tries to save the paper, aren’t you?”

Her tension eased just a bit and she found enough internal fortitude to wink at him.  “It’s kind of sad that I’m not, because it clearly makes you nuts.”  To prove her point, she ripped the paper haphazardly down the center, exposing a plain white gift box.

The wineglass hit the counter with a snort.  “Baby, you drive me plenty nuts already.  There’s no need to poke the bear.”

Wrapping paper fully removed, it joined the ribbon and she succumbed to an uncommon urge for sexual innuendo.  Blinking innocently at him, she remarked, “I’d rather the bear poke me.”

His bark of laughter made her glad she’d stepped slightly out of her comfort zone.

“Just open the damn box,” he ordered playfully.

Petey obligingly bent her head to the task, while smothering a smile.  It spooked her a little that the desire for him was still this overwhelming after four days of intense sex.  Her interest should be waning, not getting stronger.  After all, this was the last night.

“Hey.”  He tipped her face up to his.  “Why’d you get so solemn all of a sudden?”

Forcing a smile onto her lips, she told him, “I’m just worried that there’s an exorcism kit in here.”

His grin was heartstopping.  “You’re safe.  They’re on backorder until after the first of the year.”

It was her turn to bark out a laugh.  That damn sense of humor snuck up on her every time.  She loved that about him.

Pushing the errant thought aside, she carefully eased the lid from the box and put it on the bar alongside the discarded wrappings.  White tissue paper was folded neatly over the contents and it crinkled softly as Petey flipped back each side to reveal what lay beneath.  Anticipation lit her from within as she pulled the black baby doll t-shirt free and added the bottom of of the box to the discard pile.

Holding the shirt aloft, she allowed it to unfold, revealing the screen printed front in its entirety.  There, in sassy white ink, was the same bunny that graced her ‘Cute But Psycho’ shirt.  This time, he had no straitjacket.  He was just a cutely innocent looking rabbit until you got to the snarky inscription below the image… ‘like I need your approval’.

“I love it!” 

The look of enchantment in her eyes and the intensity of her dimples only lent credence to her words.  Jon was inexplicably pleased with himself.

“Like I said, it’s not much, but it made me think of you.”

“But it is me!”  The shirt crumpled into her lap and Petey launched herself forward.  Pressing her lips soundly to his cheek, she willed herself not to cry.  When was the last time anyone had gotten her a gift they thought she would like, as opposed to what they thought she should have?  It struck a sentimental chord in her, and her voice was thick when murmuring, “Thank you so much.”

Without another word, she threw the shirt over her shoulder and slid from her stool, making a beeline for the front door. 

“Hey!  Where are you going?” 

“Sit still,” she waved him back into his seat.  “I’ll be right back.”

Jon frowned, and instead of sitting, circled to the business side of the bar for a refill.  He’d panicked for a minute, thinking that she was running for the hills over a stupid rabbit shirt.  He’d barely finished swallowing the first drink of the Pinot Grigio when she returned without the rabbit shirt, but with another gift in her hand.

“What’s that?” He eyed the bright blue paper warily.  The shiny silver bow on top complemented the snowflakes scattered across a box that was the size of a CD case, only thicker.

“I had the same thing happen to me,” she explained, handing it to him with a bashful smile.  God, she could be cute.  Cute should not cause an erection, but it was trying its damnedest.  “I was finishing up my Christmas shopping and saw this in a store window.  I felt sort of silly buying it, but now I’m glad I followed the impulse.”

He felt funny accepting the package.  All the goofy little gifts he’d been given by hundreds of people throughout the years and he still felt awkward opening them.  Even when he absolutely loved the contents, he still had trouble expressing his gratitude sincerely and came off like a condescending ass most of the time. 

God, don’t let me hurt her feelings.

He was far less particular in removing the ribbon and paper than she was, and tossed the wadded ball of embellishment into the small trashcan under the bar.  The plain white gift box gave no clue as to its contents, but he’d noted that it was surprisingly heavy to be so small.

“Listen…”  Jon cleared his throat, hand splayed over the unopened box.  “I’m really bad at accepting gifts.  I just want you to know that, no matter what dumbass words come out of my mouth when I open this, that I sincerely appreciate it.  Okay?”

“Just open it,” she laughed, ignoring the growing pains of that soft spot in her heart.  Nerves weren’t something she’d expected out of him, and they chipped away at his omnipotent façade, revealing a little more of the man that lived inside. 

He frowned briefly and dipped his head before finally lifting the lid.  Petey held her own breath as he stared into the shallow depths of the cotton lined box. 

She knew what he saw:  a round, crystal paperweight with the image of a poker hand etched into it.  This poker hand happened to be a royal flush, but that didn’t matter.  It wasn’t intended to be historically accurate, but to act as a memento of their poker game – Bare Naked.

“I hope you’ll remember that night as fondly as I do.”

Relief swept through her as the corners of his mouth curled up into a naughty smile.  Without a word, he replaced the lid and emerged from behind the bar to stand before her.  His blue eyes bore into hers, a dark indigo shade that she’d come to recognize well.

“I want you.  Now.”

Petey’s heart flipped and all those girly places south of the border threw their panties at the stage with a resounding, “Yes!”

“Funny,” she murmured, reaching for his hand.  “That didn’t sound dumbass at all.”