I had to switch gears, a safer subject. Asking her if she missed me seemed like the right direction to go.
Wrong, again.
When she wrapped her arms around me and pressed her curves into my body, what should have been an innocent hug became my ultimate fantasy. I wanted to rub my hands all over her plump round ass, pulling her into my erection; I wanted to kiss the spot right below her ear, I wanted to claim every inch of her. Right here, right now, in this coffee shop. Screw going someplace private, my need for her is too great.
I need to get myself under control. Damn, this girl and the fact that I haven’t been laid in while is making control impossible. I fail miserably at keeping my body in check.
Pulling her back so I can behold her is my final mistake.
I love her glasses. They were so thick they magnified those brilliant eyes but without them, I can see all the spectacular color bursting in her eyes. Colors the lenses hid. Her brown eyes are not only chocolate they’re a spectrum of greens, golds, and browns all surrounded by a dark brown ring. They’re mesmerizing and put me under her spell.
Thank god, a customer came in or I was going in for a taste. I hadn’t tasted her since Christmas. The imaginary line she has drawn making us friends, is blurring and disappearing. I want her. I need her. She is the next breath I want to take. I’m done being in the friend zone. I will start the New Year with Tensanne Craig as mine.
Chapter Seventeen
“Size Matters”
—sticker seen on the back of a car, true statement.
Tensanne
MY DRESS FITTING on Tuesday was amazing. I never believed I could feel so beautiful, so comfortable, in my own skin, but I did. I can’t wait for Kohl and Ronnie to see this dress. Plus, the shoes Mrs. Brandt gave me are straight out of a fairy tale, only I’ll make sure I don’t lose one at midnight.
Today is the day.
Ronnie is on her way to get me so we can beautify ourselves, as she puts it. I’ve never been to a spa; I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. A text alerts me she has arrived. I grab my purse and coat heading out the door to the awaiting Uber. Only there is no Uber waiting in the circle drive. Searching the area confused, I grab my phone to text Ronnie when a horn honks, bringing my attention to the parking lot across from the dorm.
Ronnie’s waving her arms with a huge smile. Walking across the street to meet her I ask, “What are you doing? Where’s our ride?”
Waving her hand at the vehicle she is standing next to, like a Price is Right girl offering up the next prize, “This is our ride. My Christmas present from Daddy,” she exclaims.
Looking to the SUV she is displaying I gasp. A candy apple red Tesla Model X.
“Isn’t she pretty?” she asks. “Daddy spared nothing, check this out,” she says pressing a button on the remote making the back doors open toward the sky and out away from the vehicle, Falcon Wings is what they are called. Her eyes sparkle when she explains, “Plus, it’s obnoxiously fast; it goes from zero to sixty in two point nine seconds. No more Uber’s, Ten,” she says with glee. “What do you think?”
“I’m speechless, it’s so pretty and space aged.”
Hurrying me into the vehicle, she says, “Come on, come on. We’re going to be late for our appointment.”
Opening the passenger door, I slide onto the black leather that’s soft like butter and inhale the new car scent. I notice my seat is toasty warm on my cold legs. “Bun warmers,” Ronnie answers sensing my confusion. “We never have to sit on cold seats again. This pretty baby has seat warmers.” Giggling she puts the heaven on wheels, in reverse, backs out of her parking space, puts it in drive and presses the gas throwing my head back against the headrest and zooms out of the parking lot.
Pulling into the only parking spot available, we exit the nice warm vehicle, my legs protesting as the cold air meets the warmth ‘the bun warmers’ left behind, we make our way into Hand Job Spa and Salon.
I kid you not, that is what the place is called. Small towns, got to love them.
“Hello, Welcome to Hand Job,” a receptionist greets. I cover my mouth to hide the snicker that bubbles to the surface. Yes, my mind is like a fourteen-year-old boy.
Nudging me with her elbow to stifle my giggles, Ronnie greets, “Hello, we have an eight o’clock full treatment.”
“Great,” the receptionist says, “What would you like to start with? Spray tan, nails, hair, waxing or makeup?”
Wait, what? Did she say waxing?
Ronnie whispers to me, “Close your mouth,” bringing my gaping jaw to my attention. I correct myself while she tells the lady, “We’ll start with the waxing, please.”
“Wonderful, follow me,” the nice lady responds.
Walking down the serene hallway full of waterfall sounds and soothing relaxation rocks, Ronnie leans over and whispers, “You will thank me later for the waxing.”
Gritting my teeth with a grim smile, “I doubt that,” I respond.
“Is this your first time?” the receptionist asks, entirely too chipper for someone leading me to my doom. She leads me into a room and directs Ronnie into the room across the hall.
“Uh, yes,” I say, my voice quivering.
“Relax, it’ll be over before you know it and you’ll be so happy with the results. Undress from the waist down and cover yourself with the cloth,” she assures me, patting
