For the party food I make an array of cupcakes, as well as some savoury finger foods. I cook some delicious bacon strips dipped in honey, chicken wings with garlic and chive dip, deep fried jalapeño poppers, and dainty little sandwiches skewered with cocktail sticks. A heart attack waiting to happen, in other words.
I might have gone a little overboard, but I'm not exactly sure how many people Nicholas has invited. He did mention that he'd asked Dorotea to pop by, which is why I have decided to wear the most flattering dress I own. It's tight, black and silky, with short lacy sleeves. It also shows my cleavage in the best possible light. I clip my curls up in a messy French twist, with lots of tendrils falling down.
I am asking for trouble by dressing like this, and I know it. But I'm feeling a little spurned over how easily Nicholas seems to be keeping his hands off me these days. It might be a touch evil, not to mention irrational, but I want to torture him.
Harry and Sean drop by the apartment like I'd asked them to, because I need them to bring the food next door and set it up for me while I get ready. Harry stands in my bedroom doorway and lets out a low whistle. I'm making my eyes all smoky with some black eye shadow, to really bring out the gold notes in their hazel colour. I'm going for broke. These have been a shitty, nervy two weeks, what with the whole Aaron thing going on, so I just need one night where I can feel good about myself.
“The trays are all in the kitchen,” I tell him. “Be careful with the chicken wings. They're still pretty hot.”
“They're not the only thing that's hot tonight. Fred, I'm worried I'll turn straight if I keep staring at your boobs much longer.”
“Good to know,” I laugh. He winks and goes to sort out the food.
A few minutes later Nora comes in to see if I'm ready. She's wearing a nice beige shift dress and brown sandals. I notice her give my appearance a sharp look.
“You never make this much of an effort. What's going on?” she asks shrewdly.
“Is it too much?” I ask back, biting at my fingernails out of nervousness.
“You look like a wet dream and you know it,” she rolls her eyes at me. “I was just wondering why. I thought you and Nicholas were never going to happen, at least that's what you've been saying this past week or so. A little too fervently might I add, like you're trying to convince yourself more than anything else.”
I shrug and let out a long sigh. Nora's completely right. I have been trying to convince myself – and failing miserably. “Remember the Italian woman he slept with?” I finally ask her. Nora nods. “She's going to be at the party, so getting dressed up is helping me to boost my confidence.”
“Well I hope it works,” she replies drily, before we lock up our apartment and head next door.
Phil, Nicholas' friend and manager of The Glamour Patch, answers the door to us wearing a blue shirt with glittery shoulder caps. I've gotten to know him quite well over the past two weeks, and he just might be the funniest person I've ever met. He's managed a ton of different clubs over the years, including one in San Francisco, and has some of the most entertaining anecdotes you will ever hear.
“Fred look at you, hot to trot, come in. I've just been munching on your chicken wings. They're to die for,” he leads us into the living area and I take note of who's here.
Sean, Harry and Harry's brother Colm are chatting on the couch. I could kill Harry for bringing Colm along, because I know I'll have to fend off his lecherous advances once he has a few drinks on him. Nicholas is standing in the kitchen with Dorotea and her hairdresser friend with the mullet.
He looks amazing in a midnight blue shirt, a thin black tie and dark slacks. Staring at the tie makes me want to loosen it up and pull it off him (like a temptress in a sexual thriller movie from the early nineties). Other than that there are a few faces I recognise as employees from the club, as well as the other members of Sean's band, The Wilting Willows.
Phil leads us directly to the kitchen and hands us each a glass of wine. Somebody must have brought their karaoke machine along, because there's one all set up in the corner of the living area. Wonderful. I know I'll think it's a good idea to get up and start singing later on. “Starman” by David Bowie is currently playing through a pair of ipod speakers.
Nicholas' eyes catch on mine as I pass him by, and good God do they burn. I feel a blush spread all over my body at how intensely he's staring at me. Like he could devour me. His gaze blazes a fire all along my body, from head to toe. He leaves Dorotea and approaches me. I don't fail to notice Dorotea giving me a look. I roll my eyes at her, and her lips go tight with a scowl. Nora has hopped over to join Harry. Hopefully Colm will set his sights on her tonight instead of me.
I turn around and pretend to be admiring the new painting Nicholas bought to hang up on his wall. It's modern art, so I can't really discern what it's supposed to be, but it's a good distraction. I feel his hand touch lightly on my hip. His warm body is too close behind me.
“I like your dress,” he tells me huskily, “and your hair looks beautiful up like that.”
I take a sip of wine. “Thank you,” I answer, barely a whisper. What the hell is wrong with me? His voice is so dark and sexy right now, I'm having a hard time keeping my cool.
“Dorotea's not happy that you've left her to fend for herself,” I comment with a glance over my shoulder, clocking the Italian sex bomb and her friend sizing me up.
“Fuck her,” he growls low in his throat. I widen my eyes at his vulgar expression.
“You already have, but why the venom? I thought you two were best shagging buddies.”
Nicholas discreetly massages my hip with his fingers. “She's been calling me non-stop looking to come over. It's driving me insane. Phil mentioned to her that I was having this party when she dropped into the club the other night. She proceeded to call me up and complain that she hadn't been invited. So that's why she's here.”
I turn around then, slightly pissed off at his explanation. “Well it serves you right. I mean, look at yourself Nicholas, you're handsome and charismatic. You can't just sleep with a woman and then expect her not to want to see you again.”
On the inside I'm wondering if this is how he would have ended up treating me should we have slept together. Would he speak of me so callously, as he has just spoken of Dorotea?
“I'm twenty-eight Freda. I've had lots of experience with clingy women over the years. It doesn't mean I have to like it. But let's rewind a moment, you think I'm handsome and charismatic?”
“You know you are,” I answer him with a sigh. “Maybe that's the problem.”
He bends down so that his lips graze my ear. “The admiration isn't one sided. I think you look completely fuckable in that pretty little dress.”
“Are we back to this again?” I ask, feigning boredom, though on the inside I'm feeling quite triumphant that the dress has done its job. “I thought you'd gotten over your attraction to me. You've been very well behaved.”
“I was trying to respect you, but I also don't want to hurt you. You're my friend, and I could see how I was upsetting you, so I stopped. That doesn't mean I don't think about your mouth every night, about how you felt against my hand, how you moaned when I made you come.”
“Nicholas, shut the fuck up,” I whisper.
Before he can respond I hear Harry calling us over to the living area. I step away from Nicholas and go to sit down on the couch, while he follows and sits beside me. Nora is sitting on the chaise longue beside Colm. Yes, that chaise longue. I can't even glance at the thing without blushing.
“Fred, you're looking well,” says Colm, shamelessly eyeing my cleavage. Harry's brother has light brown hair and is wearing a black shirt with grey trousers. I can smell his designer aftershave even though I'm more than four feet away from him.
“Piss off,” I mutter under my breath while I sip on my wine. When I look at Nicholas I notice him trying to contain a smirk, since he heard what I said. Harry heard too. He gives me a look of warning. He has this
weird hero worship thing going on with his older brother. Even though Colm is a complete and total wanker, Harry seems to think that the sun shines out of his arse.
“Be nice,” Harry mouths at me soundlessly.
“Fine,” I mouth back, before turning to Colm. “Thank you, you're looking quite dapper yourself.” He doesn't notice I'm using a sarcastic tone, which only further reinforces my negative opinion of him. He thinks so highly of himself that he doesn't even consider it a possibility that someone might be mocking him.
“Do you think so?” Colm asks with a grin, before standing up and coming over to sit in between myself and Nicholas. He just barely manages to squeeze himself in, and I have to bite back my laughter at the bemused look on Nicholas' face.
Sean, Harry and Nora continue with whatever conversation they had been having, and a tall good looking guy comes to sit down beside Nora. He's a bartender from the club, but I don't know his name. Nora turns to shake his hand before giving him a flirty smile.
“It feels like I haven't seen you in ages,” Colm says beside me. “When was the last time?”
“Um, Harry's birthday I think,” I mutter, knocking back the wine. Perhaps alcohol will make him more bearable.
“Oh I remember now, you were wearing this great pair of jeans,” he waggles his eyebrows at me suggestively. Oh good fuck. Here we go.
Nicholas turns to his side to fully take in the awkward exchange.
I need him to go away, so I say, “Viv, would you mind putting together a plate of food for me? I'm starved.”
He smiles wickedly. “Not at all, I'll be right back.” He gracefully slides off the couch. When he's gone I feel a little better. There's just something about having him witness Colm trying to chat me up that makes me feel ill.
“You call him Viv? I thought his name was Nicholas?” Colm asks in confusion.
“It's a pet name,” I answer quietly, watching as Nicholas piles food onto a plate for me. His shoulders look really nice in that shirt. In fact, the whole outfit renders him something of a work of art. I'm so distracted by him that I realise I've completely blanked out on whatever Colm had been saying to me.
“So, what do you think?” he says, as I turn to look at him.
“Sorry, what did you say?” I ask, just as Nicholas returns with the food. This time he sits on the other side of me, in effect turning me into a very uncomfortable human hot dog.
“I was asking if you'd like to come to a dinner party my company is holding next Saturday?” Colm reminds me.
“Fred works with me on Saturday nights,” Nicholas interrupts. He holds one of the tiny sandwiches up to my mouth. “Open wide,” he says in a low voice. I take a bite out of instinct before I have the chance to fully comprehend what's happening. He's feeding me? Is this situation for fucking real right now?
“Oh, yeah,” Colm glances at Nicholas in annoyance for a moment, before quickly wiping his expression clean. “Harry mentioned something about your new job. Couldn't you take the night off? I promise you won't regret it.” There go the flirty bloody eyebrows again.
“She can't I'm afraid. Saturday nights are the busiest. I wouldn't be able to spare her,” Nicholas answers for me. I stare at him in awe, taken aback. He has a pair of balls on him, that's for certain. I have no intention of saying yes to Colm, but I'd almost do it just to put Nicholas in his place.
I finish the sandwich he's holding out to me, and fake bite at his fingers as a warning for him to back off. Unfortunately, this only seems to excite him. His eyes brighten with mischief.
At exactly this moment Dorotea and her friend come over to join us. Dorotea perches herself on the arm of the couch, leaning in really close to Nicholas. Her friend stands before us with a glass of red wine in her hand. Colm eventually takes the hint and scooches over for her. Now it's an even tighter squeeze. Nicholas surreptitiously pinches me on the thigh and I return the favour by elbowing him in the ribs in warning.
“Freda that's a beautiful dress,” Dorotea chirps with a small hiccup. Somebody's had a few.
“Thanks, the same goes for your suit,” I reply politely.
She's wearing an all white lady suit with big shoulder pads, like the one Madonna wore in that video she did with Britney Spears a couple years ago. She looks like she should be holding a high powered business lunch in the eighties. That or attending a Saturday Night Fever themed disco. She's still hot though, despite the fashion faux pas. “You didn't happen to bring your furry friend along with you tonight?” I ask.
She leans even closer into Nicholas and slurs, “Is she propositioning me, do you think?”
Jesus Christ.
“She's talking about your ferret Ollo,” he explains to her slow drunken brain.
She slaps a hand on her thigh and bursts out laughing. “Oh Ollo! My mistake, I thought you were making a double entendre Fred. No, I left him at home.”
I hold in the reply that's on the tip of my tongue. I want to tell her that I've been given a first hand account of how not-furry her little friend is. But I keep that one to myself. Is it wrong to internally snicker at your own unvoiced joke?
“Aw that's a shame,” I say to her, as I happily note that Colm has turned his attention to the mullet lady on the other side of him. He brings a new meaning to the term any hole will do.
“Nicholas,” Dorotea purrs, “would you help me in the bathroom for a moment? I spilled some wine on my sleeve and if I don't rinse it out it's going to stain.”
“I'm sure you can handle it yourself,” he answers her dismissively, before standing up to go and refill his whiskey glass. I take the plate of food from him and begin picking at some chicken wings.
Dorotea huffily makes her own way to the bathroom. There's a knock at the door and Phil rushes to answer it, letting even more people in. It's a good thing I went a little overboard with the food. I didn't expect there to be this many guests.
Nicholas gets swept up talking to the new people who have arrived. I slide further away from Colm and the mullet lady to sink into the corner of the couch. It's awfully anti-social of me, but I always seem to find myself doing this at parties at one point or another. I'll slink off into the background and stuff my face with whatever food is on offer, just watching the others interact around me.
I give myself a little imaginary pat on the back for how well I did with the catering. I always tend to veer more towards comfort food as opposed to haute cuisine. Perhaps when I'm older I'll have enough money to open up my own little rustic café in a village in the country. People will flock from far and wide to taste my cupcakes and my home made stews, I muse.
Dorotea has returned from the bathroom and is insinuating herself into a conversation Nicholas is having with a group of men I don't know. They must be more workers from the club. She slips her fingers through Nicholas' and rests her head on his shoulder. Judging from his posture, he seems a little uncomfortable with her touching on him, but he's not pulling away. Perhaps this is just for the sake of good manners.
I force myself not to watch them any longer and instead focus my attention on Nora and the tall guy she's still chatting to. I'm hoping he's straight, because Nora hasn't seen much action with men for a while and she deserves to be swept away by some hunk. It's like watching a movie. I work my way through three chicken wings, two jalapeño poppers, several pieces of bacon and two more glasses of wine, while I observe her flip her hair, touch him flirtatiously on the shoulder, subtly pout her lips etc.
I give her an encouraging wink when I manage to catch her eye. She blushes at being caught pulling out all the stops. Harry and Sean fiddle around with the karaoke machine and before I know it Harry's belting out “I Will Survive” at the top of his lungs. Like me, he hasn't got a note in his head. The guests gather round and cheer him on. I decide this is my cue for a toilet break. I slip inside the bathroom and do my business.
When I'm washing my hands I notice the door handle turn.
“I'm in here,” I call out, but whoever it is
still continues coming in, the rude git.
I look up to discover Nicholas standing behind me. He maintains eye contact as he reaches back and turns over the lock on the door. Something I should have done before coming in here.
“Um, ocupado, occupé, occupato – any of those ring a bell?” I joke. I continue nervously scrubbing my hands and trying my best to ignore the way he's looking at me.
“I apologise for barging in, but I've been dying to get you alone all night Freda,” he breathes.
He approaches me and presses the front of his body flush along my back, bracing both of his hands against the sink to pen me in. He reaches around me and shamelessly caresses my breast, right before he pulls down the front of my dress to bare the nipple. It all happens so quickly.
“Exquisite,” he says, as he stares at my reflection in the mirror, one tit spilling out over the silky fabric.
Suddenly he's flipping me around, leaning down and taking me into his mouth. I gasp at the sensation of his hot tongue flicking at my bare nipple.
“You're not playing fair here,” I protest, straining against him.
He comes up for air long enough to bite back, “And you are? Look at this dress, you might as well have a sign over your head that says fuck me.” His gravelly voice sends a tingle shooting through me and a blush covers my cheeks.
His mouth clamps back onto my nipple and I moan instinctively. His hand wanders beneath my dress and violently slips past my knickers to plunge right inside me. I hold tightly onto his shoulders and my body goes more limp with each thrust of his hand. He releases my nipple and buries his face in my neck.
“We've been dancing around each other for two weeks. I can't take it much longer,” he sinks another finger into me, moving rhythmically in and out. “God you're so tight and soft Fred, I want to lick you all over.”
“You're scandalizing me Viv,” I manage to breathe with a smirk. He smirks right back at me.
“I told you I like to corrupt, and you are the perfect candidate with those innocent fucking eyes of yours.”