Confessions of an Alli Cat (8 page)

“You know what, Sophie?  I’d like for you to do some laps for endurance.  I want to see you swim twenty laps, then do ten of the drills that I showed you earlier.  I should probably sit down with your mom and explain my training plans with her.”

Sophie looks at me, waiting for my approval.  I nod and she turns away, diving back into the glistening water.  I stare down at her swimsuit clad form, wavering beneath the rippling turquoise water. 

Shade/Colby takes my elbow and leads me into the kitchen.  He pushes me gently into a chair in my kitchen and walks straight for my fridge.  He pulls out a bottle of wine that I had re-corked last night and pours me a glass.  He shoves it into my hands and sits down across from me. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

I gulp at my wine, draining it in three gigantic gulps. 

“I don’t know,” I tell him honestly.  “I let my friend talk me into seeing you the other night and now I find you in my pool training my daughter.  I don’t know if a good mother would let that happen.”

“Why?” he asks in surprise.  “Because of my other job?  I can assure you of this:  When I’m on Utopia’s clock, I’m Shade.  Any other time, including when I’m in the pool with your daughter, I’m Colby.  And I’m very good at both of my jobs.  I am completely professional.  Your daughter will never see Shade.  I’m not a pedophile, Alli.”

I stare at him, at the way his brow is furrowed right now as he frowns at me.  At the youthful tilt to his face.  At the muscles that are still damp and are gleaming under the sun’s rays which are pouring in through my kitchen windows.  My heart pounds a little, remembering how those muscles had lifted me the other night and had bent me around until he was fucking me from behind.

I swallow hard. 

“It’s just strange.  I was shocked. And now I don’t know what to do.”

Colby grins and with that ornery curve of his mouth, I see Shade come out. 

“I told you before…I think you need for me to tell you what to do. You seemed to like it the other night.  And I’m telling you right now.  There is nothing inappropriate about me training your daughter.  I’m an excellent swimmer.  I swam four years at the college level and won several state championships.  I know what I’m doing, I promise.”

“Oh, I know you do,” I say wryly.  “I just… I don’t know.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” Colby/Shade says.  “Give me five minutes of your time in here as Shade.  Then come outside and watch the rest of my lesson with Sophie.  If you don’t see that I can totally and completely separate my two professions, I will gladly find you another swim coach for Sophie.”

I look at him doubtfully.  “You think you can convince me in five minutes?”

He looks smug. “I’m sure of it.”

My chin lifts.  “Fine.  Challenge accepted.”

Colby/Shade walks to the door and glances outside.  “Okay.  Sophie is still doing laps.  Where is the closest room with a lock?”

I motion to the laundry room which is just off the kitchen.  He drags me there and locks the door behind us. 

“Five minutes,” I remind him.  He nods.

“Five minutes.”

Without preamble, he quickly pulls down my skirt and stockings and lifts me onto the washer.  He bends and with his cobalt blue eyes never leaving mine, his tongue fills me up.  I gasp and arch against his mouth. 

I’m self-conscious because I’ve been in stockings all day, because I haven’t showered since this morning and because my daughter could walk into the house at any given time.

But the door is locked.

And this feels so freaking good.

“Relax,” he says, his mouth hovering just above my skin. “You taste delicious.”

He is a master with his tongue.  And very, very good at his job. 

I come in three minutes.  I come quietly, without screaming, since I don’t want Sophie to hear and come running.  Shade watches my face as I come and I see satisfaction on his. When I am done convulsing (which takes approximately another thirty seconds), he slides me off the washer and against him. 

His penis is hard and the velvety tip is pushed against me.  I gulp.

He covers my mouth with his and I can taste myself there.

Holy cow.  I’m such a freaking vixen,
I think. 
Or maybe I’m just a freak.  Either way, there is freakiness involved. 

He pulls away. “Did you taste yourself?” I nod. 

“You taste so fucking good,” he tells me.  “I’d like to fuck you now.  But I won’t.  Because now, I’m going to be Colby and I’m going to go coach your daughter.  But if you decide that you still require my services, you can call and make an appointment and I’ll finish this.  Alright?”

I nod. “Alright.”

“Also, just so you know, you don’t look nearly old enough to have a teenage daughter.  You’re gorgeous.”

He pulls his swim trunks back on and he’s gone before I know it. 

I am utterly relaxed now, both by his compliment and his…um…services.

I lean against the dryer, trying to still my breathing for a second before I pull back on my skirt.  I toss my stockings in the dirty clothes and smooth my hair down before I make my way out to the pool to watch the rest of Sophie’s practice. 

I recline on a pool lounger, soaking up the sun as I watch.

He was right.  He’s perfectly professional and he knows exactly what he’s doing.  And Rick has already paid for him.  I have no good reason to say no. 

At the end of the lesson, Sophie goes inside to get dressed and Colby comes and sits next to me.  And it is clear that he is definitely Colby out here.  Droplets from his wet hair drip onto my leg and I wipe them away.

“Well?” he grins.  “What do you think?”

I shake my head.

“Fine.  I can see that you are professional. And I have a horrible time saying no to Sophie.  So, alright.  You can continue.”

Colby looks at me, his blue gaze glittering.  He casually towels off his back.  His wide, strong, sexy back.  I restrain myself from watching. I seriously continue to amaze myself with my fortitude.

“I can continue as Sophie’s coach?  Or I can continue as Shade… for you?”

He watches me, waiting for my answer. 

I glance at his rippling chest, as his bulging tanned biceps, at the dimple in his left cheek.  And then I remember his erect penis pressed against me in the laundry room and sigh. 

“Both.”

He grins because he knows that he has won.

And I program his cell number into my own phone that evening.

I’m probably going to burn in hell for all of eternity.  But when I do, at least it will have been worth it. 

Chapter Eight

(Or: To Hair or Not to Hair?  It’s not even a sane question)

“You’ve got to be freaking kidding me,” Sara exclaims, staring at me from across the table.  We’re at lunch again, at our usual table in the park between our office buildings.  “And you didn’t think this was important enough to call me about last night?  What is wrong with you? This breaks like every rule in the BFF handbook!”

“I know,” I sigh, picking at my turkey on whole wheat.  “I just felt exhausted.  I didn’t even want to re-hash it.  It makes me feel like a horrible mother.  First I had sex with a gigolo. Then the gigolo ends up in my pool with my daughter.  Then said gigolo performs oral sex on me while my daughter swims laps, then I agree to let previously mentioned gigolo continue training my daughter while I continue using his sexual services.  Am I insane?”

Sara nods. 

“Yes.  But in a good way,” she rushes to reassure me.  “You’ve been too uptight for too many years.  You saw for yourself- Colby can be Colby with Sophie and he can be Shade with you.  Trust me.  As Sophie’s godmother, I would never steer you wrong on this topic.  I love that girl. And not even one fine looking piece of dick will sway me from doing what’s right where she’s concerned.  In my opinion, you’re just fine.  Keep an eye on it. And if anything seems inappropriate, fire his amazingly sexy ass.  Until then, enjoy him.  Enjoy the scenery when he’s in your pool. Then bang his brains out when you see him on the weekends. That’s my final answer.”

She folds her arms over her chest as though she is the Great and Powerful Oz, and the Great and Powerful Oz has spoken.  I roll my eyes.

“Well, I’m glad that’s cleared up,” I say wryly as I reach for my lemonade.  I find myself wishing that it contained vodka.   Sara glares at me.

“I’m serious,” she says.  “You’re fine.  Now, changing the subject…  I need you to date Brian.”

I almost break my neck as I gape at her. 

“Have you lost your mind?” I ask.  “He’s as boring as a plain white button-up.  I can’t date him.  I’d want to slit my wrists within the first thirty minutes.  No lie, Sara.”

She sighs, as though I have tried her patience for the last time. 

“First, it would depend on who is wearing the white button up as to how boring it is.  And second, Brainy Brian will be great practice for you in the dating world.  I need for you to get your date on.  And I need for you to do it well.  I am not having you moping around anymore, staying home on weekends alone when Sophie is at her dad’s.  More importantly, I can’t be babysitting you every weekend.  There are places for me to go and people to do.”

I stare at my best friend, wondering if aliens have taken over her body. 

“Do you even know me at all?  Wasn’t it me who went to Utopia with you last weekend?  And Sophie is hardly ever at her dad’s.  And you don’t babysit me!  Do you? What is with you?”

Sara shrugs as she takes an elegant bite of her bean sprout wrap. 

“I just feel a certain responsibility to get you back out on the market.  My experiment with Shade went so much better than expected.  And speaking of, since you are keeping Shade’s…services, it’s going to work out very well now that you’re dating.”

“I’m not dating!” I practically shout at her.  The couple at the nearest table look over at me, startled.  I settle myself down.  “Not yet, anyway.  Do you even listen to me?”

Sara levels a stare at me, unflustered.

“Not usually.  Anyway.  As I was saying, you’ll be able to date without the added pressure of whether or not to have sex with your date now.  Isn’t that perfect?  You can polish your dating skills without having to worry about the question of ‘will you or won’t you sleep with the guy at the end of the night’?  You can take out your sexual frustrations on Shade, because you’re paying him to sleep with you.  It’s a perfect arrangement.  And I think you should begin your dating life with Brainy Brian. Because he’s easy and safe and won’t break your heart.”

I seriously want to pull my hair out.  Or her hair out.  Except hers is too short to really get a good grip on.  We’re back to my hair.  I sigh. 

“Sara, I work with Brian.  I don’t think it’s a good idea to date someone who I work with.  Especially when I know that I’m not interested in him for the long term.”

“Good Lord, Alli!” she snaps.  She’s quickly losing patience with my arguments, I can tell.  “Don’t you get it?  You’re not going to settle down with anyone else for a very long time.  We got that out of our system with Rick, didn’t we?  You’re going to have fun.  But in order to do that, you have to learn how to interact with the opposite sex.  You’ve forgotten how to flirt, my sweet.”

I rub the middle part of my forehead because it is rapidly growing a headache. 

As I do, my phone buzzes.  I look down and find a text from Shade.  My eyes widen and I snatch up my phone to read it. 

Do you want me yet?

I must look dumbfounded because Sara starts questioning me. 

“What?  Who is it?  What’s wrong?”

I shake my head, laying my phone back down in my lap. 

“Nothing’s wrong.  Shade just texted me.  I wasn’t expecting this kind of interaction with him.  That’s all.”

Sara wrinkles her forehead.  “A text?  Really?  That’s sort of strange.  Chaz doesn’t text me except to confirm dates and times and whatnot.”

I’m puzzled.  “Maybe he’s just flirting with me to make sure that he keeps me as a customer,” I speculate.  “That’s probably it, actually.  It’s good for business, right?  He wants to keep me interested. It’s good sales strategy.”

“I don’t know,” Sara muses.  “Life does not consist of sales strategy alone.  But you might be right.  Who knows?”

“Yep.  Who knows,” I repeat. 

I text him back. 

Of course
. 

Because it’s true.  I do want him.  I’m a wanton, wanton, middle-aged sex fiend.  Does that make me a cougar?

I turn to Sara.  “Does this make me a cougar?”

She laughs a maniacal laugh, one that makes me instantly afraid.  I look at her. 

“Well, am I?”

“Oh, my dear little Alli.  I think the common definition of a cougar is an older woman who seeks out younger men.  I think.  And I don’t know if you are old enough to technically be considered a cougar.  But, in my opinion, a cougar is a sexual woman who is comfortable in her skin and knows what she wants.  And if she doesn’t know what she wants, then like you, she is working hard on figuring it out.  She’s sexy and she’s confident and sometimes, she might happen to have sex with a younger man.  Because she’s confident and anything goes.  That’s what I view a cougar to be.  And so yes, I think you might be one.”

I gulp.  Both at the name and at her definition. 

“Okay,” I nod.  “I’m a cougar.  That’s alright.  I’m okay.”

“Are you?” Sara asks, the barest hint of concern on her perfectly made-up face.  “Are you trying to convince me or you?”

“Um, me, obviously,” I snort.  “But it’s fine.  I’m fine.  I’m a cougar and I’m fine.”

Sara shakes her head.  “You’re saying
fine
too many times.  It’s a sign of insanity.  Oh- I forgot.  Be ready for our appointment to get waxed tomorrow evening.  6:45.  I’ll pick you up. Don’t wear jeans—wear something loose. Like a skirt.  Trust me, you won’t want any pressure on your cootch afterward.”

I roll my eyes.  “Cootch? Seriously?  Could you think of a more disgusting word?”

“Probably, if you give me a minute,” Sara answers, picking up her trash.  “Just be ready when I pick you up.”

She stands up.