She snickers. “Up in the hotel room. He says he’s going to plunder his booty when I get in there.”
Tilting my head back, I burst out laughing. “Okay, then. That’s nice to know.”
Jordan winks. “It’ll be fun. With all the sex we’ve been having I’m hoping to get pregnant soon.”
I tap her glass of wine with my finger. “You could already be. Might want to stay away from the alcohol.”
Her eyes widen and she hastily hands me her wine. “True. I need to be careful just in case.”
Now I have two glasses of wine. The last time I drank on the job, I ended up in a hotel room with the sexiest man I’d ever laid eyes on. What’s crazy is I have no clue what his face looks like, only his eyes. They were gray with a gold rim around the pupils. His mask covered his forehead and down over his nose and right cheek, almost like the phantom in The Phantom of the Opera, but made completely different. It was all black and elegant.
I finish off one and set the empty glass down on the high-top table. Jordan giggles and places a hand on my shoulder. “I’m surprised you haven’t been bombarded with men tonight. You’re looking sexy as all get out right now. Who are you? Daisy Buchanan?”
I look down at my shimmering silver flapper dress and smile. I even pinned my long red hair to make it look like a bob. “I didn’t really like her in The Great Gatsby, but the woman has style.”
Jordan nods. “That she does.” She bumps me with her hip. “All right, I’m going to make some rounds and talk to people. Will you be okay here all alone?”
I hold up my glass of wine. “I’ll be fine by myself. Go have fun and mingle.”
She disappears through the crowd just as the DJ plays “Thriller” by Michael Jackson. The crowd goes wild and rushes to the dance floor. I’m curious to see if anyone knows the actual dance. Some of them are close, but others flail around in their attempts. It’s the funniest thing I’ve seen in a long time.
“Having fun?”
I’m so engrossed in watching the dancing I didn’t realize someone had come up beside me. The guy is dressed as Ferris Bueller, complete with the gold and black vest and a tan jacket over top of that. Instead of wearing a mask, he has on sunglasses. I have to say, he nailed the look.
“I am having fun,” I tell him. “Are you?”
He shrugs. “I would be if you dance with me.”
Over the years, if you pay attention, most people become more knowledgeable about others. Take for instance, first impressions. I’ve gotten to where I can tell if a guy is a dirtball by his demeanor and the way he speaks. I’m definitely getting the sleazebag vibe from this guy. My mother always says to trust my instincts, they’ll never steer me wrong. My instincts haven’t let me down yet.
“Thanks, Ferris, but I don’t think so right now. Enjoy the party.”
His smile falls and he backs away. I’m thirty-two-years old and still single. Granted, I’ve dated a lot, but none of those men had the full package. Some might say I’m picky, but after being with my mystery man last month, I doubt anyone will ever compare to him. I haven’t been with anyone since. I’ve had a few lovers in my lifetime and none of them come close. It’s a little discouraging to think that way, but it’s the truth.
Once I’m done with my wine, I walk around the outskirts of the room. In a way, I’m envious of how much fun everyone is having. Most of the guests look to be in their early to mid-twenties, still young and full of life. All of my friends are married and having kids right now. On the weekends, if Jordan and I aren’t hosting a party, I find myself just sitting in my living room with a movie and a tub of raw chocolate chip cookie dough.
There’s a dark corner just behind the DJ station so I go over there to stand. The Batdance song by Prince comes on and it’s strange because everyone starts to move away from the center of the dancefloor. That’s when Batman comes into view. I’ve seen the line dance on video, but never before in person. Whoever the guy is on the dancefloor is a hoot. Everyone watches him with utter fascination.
“You either have to have a lot of guts or just be outright insane to do what he’s doing.”
My breath catches in my lungs. That voice. I know I’ve heard it before. Slowly, I turn my head and there he is, wearing the same mask he wore a month ago and staring at me with those gray eyes of his. His gaze roams up and down my body. “Guess I chose right being Gatsby. I see I’ve found my Daisy.”
He’s a very sexy Gatsby, indeed. His suit fits him perfectly. His slicked back hair in a high comb over was a popular hair style for men in the twenties. “I wondered if I’d ever see you again,” I say. His smile makes everything inside of me tighten. The need to have him is real and intoxicating. Maybe it’s because it’s been a month since I’ve had any kind of release.
“Same,” he replies, edging closer to me. “I have to admit, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.” His eyes fall to my left hand. “I don’t see a ring. Hopefully, that means you’re still single.”
“I am,” I breathe. “And with you being here, I’m assuming you are too?”
He backs me up to the wall, his body so close to mine. “I am.”
“So, what are we going to do?” I ask, whispering the words across his lips.
His
