Kayla Perrin - Getting Some

Then I pull out the vibrator, head off the bed and go to my bathroom to clean up.

When I’m back under my covers, I snuggle against my pillow and try to summon some of the warmth I felt during my orgasm.

I can’t.

Later that morning, after I eat breakfast alone in my kitchen, I decide that I must get out of the house. First, I call Annelise, but she doesn’t answer, so I call another friend, Risha. We’re not extremely close, but occasionally go to the spa or hair salon together where we can spend a few hours gossiping.

Risha is home, and we make plans to meet an hour later at the spa we frequent downtown. I tell her I’ll call the spa to schedule pedicures, and that she’ll hear from me only if we can’t get an appointment.

An hour later, Risha is heading to the building’s steps as I park in an available spot on the street. I toot the horn, and she glances over her shoulder. When she sees me, she smiles and waves.

I finish parking and get out of the car. Risha rushes toward me, her arms outspread.

We hug, air kiss.

“Wow, Claudia. You look amazing.”

“I do?”

“Yes. Really amazing. Your hair—you put auburn highlights?”

“Subtle highlights. I was tired of the jet black.”

“Well, seeing how happy you look, no one would know you so recently broke up with the love of your life.”

It’s exactly that kind of comment that irks me where Risha’s concerned, and one of the reasons I’ll never consider her a close friend. She simply doesn’t get me.

I don’t worry about it, because she fulfills a purpose in my life. I never have to go to the spa, or shopping for designer clothes, alone.

Risha opens the spa’s heavy door, then gestures for me to enter. “After you.”

I walk in. The hostess at the front greets me with a warm smile. “Hello, Ms. Fisher, Ms. Taylor.”

“Hello,” Risha and I say in unison.

“You can come right this way.”

The long-haired brunette leads us around the corner and to the back of the salon, where the pedicure tables are set up. I recognize Alice and Bree, the women who will give us our pedicures, as they’ve worked on us before.

Alice, who’s working with me today, instructs me to take my sandals off and slip my feet into the warm, bubbling water. I do, and beside me, Risha does the same.

“How’s Ryan?” I ask Risha.

“He’s great,” Risha answers. “Passed the Bar, and he’s interviewing with a few firms in Atlanta. Also some in New York.”

“So he might be moving?”

“ We might be moving.”

“He popped the question?” I ask excitedly, my eyes already searching for the rock on her left hand I must have somehow missed.

“No, not yet. But once he accepts a position with a firm, I’m sure he will.”

“Right.” I nod, hoping for Risha’s sake that Ryan is planning exactly that. That he doesn’t turn out to be another Adam.

I glance at Alice, an attractive and plump woman in her mid-forties, who is scrubbing my feet. She grins at me like buffing people’s feet is what she’s happiest doing. I don’t believe it is, though. I mean, it can’t be. I wonder if she’s aspired to greater things in her life, and why she settled on this career path.

The sound of voices has me turning to my left to see who is about to join us in this portion of the salon.

And that’s when my stomach takes a nosedive.

Hell, no! What’s that bitch doing here?

“Who?”

Risha’s question lets me know I voiced my thought out loud.

“Ah, Arlene…” Risha nods in Arlene Nash’s direction, who happens to be the woman who immediately got involved with Adam when our relationship ended—if not before.

Arlene sees me. Flashes me a smug look as she wriggles her fingers in the pretense of a warm greeting.

Risha huffs. “What is her problem?”

“Hell if I know.”

To my horror, the hostess leads Arlene to the far back of the shop where Risha and I are.

“Oh, God,” I mumble.

Moaning in frustration, I look to my right as Arlene is seated in the leather pedicure chair on my left.

Risha’s lips twist in disapproval.

“Hello, ladies.”

Arlene’s nasally voice has always irritated me, that and the way she walks around with her head held higher than everyone else’s, like she’s extra special.

“Hello,” Risha responds, in an exaggerated airy tone— the tone of fake affection she reserves for people she doesn’t like.

For a moment I debate simply ignoring the bitch. I mean, why pretend we’re friends when we’re not? But after a couple seconds, I paste a sugary smile on my face and turn to her— the only greeting I can find it in my soul to give her. Arlene and I were never friends, but after I saw her at my fiancé’s place in a serious lip lock with him only days after we’d broken up, I knew I could never keep up the pretense of being civil to her.

That decision was solidified when Arlene starting flaunting the rock Adam gave her shortly after our own engagement ended.

A minute passes. I pretend to be completely absorbed in the issue of Black Hair magazine I scooped up before I sat down.

“Have you heard from Adam?”

My head turns to my left so fast, it’s a surprise I don’t get whiplash. “Excuse me?”

“I hear he’s spending time in D.C.,” Arlene tells me in a tone that says she’s proud to be sharing information I likely don’t know. “He’s apparently exploring work opportunities. I figure he’ll make a permanent move there, given his political ambitions. Especially since he’s got family there he can stay with.”

“His cousin, Milton. Senate aid. Yes, I know. Adam and I were together for four years , remember?” My tone is testy, but I can’t stop myself.

“Of course.” Arlene plasters a fake smile on her face. “Look, I figured you’d want to know what he’s been up to.”

“Really? And why is that?”

The water sloshes around Arlene’s feet as she shifts her butt in her chair to fully face me. “Because we share a common bond—whether you want to accept that or not.”

This enrages me. Arlene’s gall at acting as if she and I have both suffered equally at Adam’s hands.

As Alice begins to buff my feet, I say to Arlene, “We have nothing in common.”

“He hurt both of us.”

“And you seem like you still want to him back, even though the whole world knows he’s a perverted freak. What Adam does with his life doesn’t interest me in the least. He could be starring in gay porn in D.C. for all I care.”

Arlene’s jaw flinches at my words, and I know I’ve hit the nail head-on. Tsking, she shakes her head. “So bitter.” She pauses. “Bitter enough to spew nasty lies?”

I slam the magazine down on my lap. “Tell me, Arlene—how long were you fucking my fiancé before we broke up?”

I expect shock from Arlene. Instead, her face fills with smugness. “If you’d been able to satisfy him, he wouldn’t have ended up in my bed.”

“You bitch. I more than satisfied Adam.”

Risha grips my arm. “Claudia—”

“Adam was a freak, okay?” I feel everyone’s eyes on me—Alice’s, Bree’s, the stylists’ at the other end of the salon and their patrons—but I don’t stop. “A pathetic freak who liked all kinds of disgusting sex. When I found out about that, I knew I could no longer be with him. But you—how many times have you been engaged again? Three? Four? At least I’m not desperate enough to settle for anyone.”

Arlene glances around uneasily, though her eyes flash fire. “Adam was right about you. You’re bitter because he dumped you, and you started those rumors about him to ruin our relationship.”