Kayla Perrin - Getting sexy - Obsession / Getting Some / Getting Even

He breaks the kiss and asks, “Should I take that as a yes?”

“It took you long enough, you big jerk.”

I can’t believe the words that have come out of my mouth. I can’t believe what’s just happened. And so easily. But Glenn’s warm smile makes me feel entirely comfortable. Makes me feel this is right. That it’s finally our time.

“I know,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re going to have to make it up to me,” I tell him. “Right now.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you have in mind?”

I spread my legs and wrap them around his waist. “There’s only one punishment that’s fitting,” I tell him as his penis hardens against my stomach. “Do me, baby,” I whisper hotly in his ear. “Do me good.”

I feel as if I’m going through hell with the wedding plans, and honestly, Adam isn’t helping. Before, I thought his I’m-a-man-I’m-totally-clueless routine was kind of cute, but right now it’s just plain aggravating. There’s still so much to do, and I need a break from it.

That’s why, as I approach the front door of Liaisons this Sunday morning, I feel a burst of happiness, knowing that I’m going to see my dearest friends.

Only Annelise is seated at our booth when I walk into the restaurant just before one o’clock. Every Sunday afternoon, Annelise, Lishelle and I have brunch at this restaurant in Buckhead, which serves the best brunch in the city as far as I’m concerned. We’re so regular, the hostess saves our table for us.

It’s a time for us to sit back, relax and catch up on each other’s week while enjoying great food. Even though we talk quite a bit during the week with each other, during our brunches we really get to let loose.

“Hey,” I say in a singsong voice as I reach the table. An-nelise shoots to her feet, a wide smile on her face. She gives me a long hug.

“How are you, hon?” she asks.

“Ugh, stressed. This wedding’s killing me.”

“I know the feeling. I’m stressed, too.”

“Oh?” I slink into the booth’s soft leather. “Your wedding plans giving you grief?”

“No.” She flashes a sugary smile. “But I’ve had a shitty week at work. Two customers canceled on me, and I was counting on that cash.”

“Oh no.”

“Lots to tell, but only after you get your first cup of coffee.”

“I was thinking more like a mimosa today.”

Annelise’s eyes light up. “Thank God. I didn’t want to be the only one.”

She raises a hand to flag down the waitress, and moments later, Sierra, a petite Asian woman, comes to our table.

“Hello, Claudia,” Sierra greets me. “How are you?”

“I’m great,” I tell her. “You?”

“Busy. Taking a summer course in physics.” She rolls her eyes. “What can I say?”

Despite the fact that Sierra has worked here as a waitress for the past two years, she’s studying to be a doctor. I’m impressed. And a little envious. I’ve always wanted to go to med school. My father is a top neurosurgeon, and the profession fascinates me. But despite my schooling, I knew I’d never pursue a career. That’s the way it is for a self-respecting society woman like myself. The average woman today doesn’t understand that concept, that a woman in my position doesn’t actually work outside the home. She supports her husband in his aspirations, does volunteer work for worthy causes, raises children, works the society circles. One day soon, Adam will be in the political arena, and I’ll need to be by his side. He’ll need a full-time wife to support him.

“Two mimosas,” Annelise is saying to the waitress when I tune back in to the conversation.

“Lishelle’s not coming?” Sierra asks.

“You’re right, make it three,” Annelise decides. “If she doesn’t show up anytime soon, I can always drink hers.” Annelise makes light of her statement with a smile, but I know she’s serious. Which means she really must have had a shitty week.

“Help yourself to the buffet whenever you’re ready,” Sierra tells us. And then she’s off to deal with more customers.

I glance at my watch. It’s now one-ten. “Have you heard from Lishelle?”

Annelise shakes her head. “But I assume she’s coming. I mean, she’d call if she weren’t—right?”

“Right. It’s just not like her. She’s usually the first one here.”

“She’s probably stuck in traffic.”

“Yeah, probably.” Sierra suddenly appears with a tray of drinks. “Wow, that was fast,” I tell her. Both Annelise and I sip our drinks, then Annelise looks up.

“Speak of the devil…”

I turn. There’s Lishelle, gliding toward the table.

“Hello, ladies,” she practically sings.

If I’m not mistaken, Lishelle has extra pep in her step. And she’s glowing. Yeah, she’s definitely glowing. What the hell happened to make her so happy?

“That must be for me,” Lishelle comments, reaching for the extra mimosa as she sits beside me in the booth. “Perfect.” She takes a sip. She looks from me to Annelise. “Ooh, Annie. That’s a really nice dress. You’re showing a lot of cleavage. That’s not like you.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve got to do something.”

“I don’t follow you,” Lishelle says.

“I’ve been having problems with Charles. In the bedroom. He won’t…well, he won’t touch me with a ten-foot pole, if you want to know the truth.”

“At all?” Lishelle asks.

“At all.”

“I’m so sorry to hear you’re having trouble again.”

“Again?” Annelise laughs without mirth. “It’s been a constant for nearly fifteen months.”

“Fifteen months?”

“Apparently,” I chime, and Lishelle looks at me in surprise. “She only told me a few days ago,” I point out.

“I know you were having trouble before,” Lishelle says, “but I thought you got past that. You haven’t said anything for what, a year?”

“I’ve been too embarrassed.” Annelise then fills Lishelle in on all she told me earlier in the week.

“And Charles,” Lishelle begins, “is he…reacting?”

“I spent five hundred dollars on new clothes, new bras, sexy shoes—and nothing.”

“Wow.” Lishelle reaches across the table and covers Annelise’s hand. “I don’t know what to say.”

“What can you say? I’m starting to wonder if my marriage is in serious trouble.”

“No,” I assure her. “Charles loves you.”

“Every time he rejects me, it chips away at my self-esteem. A little more here, a little more there.”

“How can we help?” Lishelle asks.

“Just be there for me, I guess. Listen to me whine.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Have you talked to Charles about this?” I ask.

“If I even try to talk about why we’re not having sex, he gets upset. Defensive. Sometimes I’ll ask if he’s upset with me or what, and he tells me he’s busy. Stressed. That my impatience is only making him more stressed.”

“I’m sorry,” Lishelle says. “But if he isn’t having sex with you, don’t you think he’s fucking someone else? Let’s face it—what guy doesn’t want to have sex with his wife? You ask me, that’s a neon sign that he’s dipping his cock in another pussy.”

Annelise reels backward, looking absolutely crushed. I shoot Lishelle a glare. She gives me an “I’m sorry” look.

I’ll be honest—the same thought occurred to me regarding Charles screwing around—but I know Annelise isn’t ready to hear that.

I try a more tactful approach. “What if Charles is having some sort of medical problem?” I offer. “That could explain why he’s acting the way he is. Defensive. Standoffish. Unwilling even to hear any talk about lovemaking. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to start something he can’t finish with you.”