“You too. Say hi to Jamie and the other guys.”
He looked at me for a moment. “You really mean it?”
“Of course.”
He shook his head and laughed.
“Hey,” I said, “I’m straight, not narrow.”
He laughed again, and it reached his eyes this time.
“Take care, man. But I gotta run. Call me sometime!”
“I was thinking…,” Wren said at dinner that evening, “we’ve all been working like crazy and could use a break.”
“Amen,” Trip said. “What d’you have in mind?”
“Well, Halloween’s on Monday, so I was thinking—”
“It’s a school night,” I warned.
She gave me a cross look. “I know. Which is why I was thinking of a party on Saturday. Does that work with your busy school schedule?”
“A costume party would be fun,” Christy said.
“Exactly,” Wren said in a much lighter tone.
The fix was in, I realized, but I wasn’t going down without a fight. “Do we have time to get costumes and decorate and all?”
“You are just determined to be a wet blanket, aren’t you?”
Yes. “No.” I sulked.
“It’s okay,” Christy said. “Not everyone can be sunny all the time. Well,
except me.”
“What? You’re as moody as I am!”
“Am not! And if you say so again I’ll pout.”
“Children,” Trip said. “Behave.”
“Yes, Dad,” Christy and I said at the same time. Mine was sullen and contrary. Hers was upbeat, and her good mood wore me down.
I reluctantly cracked a grin, and hers turned into a radiant smile of triumph.
Wren watched the whole thing, of course.
“You were saying…?” Trip prompted her.
“Right. Well, I was saying… I think we should have a party this weekend. I’m pretty sure I can throw everything together in time, food- and drink-wise.”
“Paul and I can do the decorations,” Christy volunteered.
“And I’ll start making Halloween mix tapes,” Trip added. “And we’ll need to party-proof the house. Start by finding the keys for the bedroom doors.”
“Good call,” I said.
“Have you thought of costumes?” he asked Wren.
“You’d look good as Han Solo.”
“Yeah, I would. Cool. That was easy.”
“And I was thinking…”
I almost laughed as she let the pause draw out so we’d look at her. She was a performer, all right.
“I want to make a Princess Leia costume. You know, the metal bikini one?”
“It’s pretty skimpy,” I said. “You definitely have the body to pull it off.
But still…”
“You’d look awesome!” Christy said. “What’re you thinking, Paul? For a costume, I mean.”
“No clue.”
“You know…,” she mused, “you’d look cool as the guy from Risky Business.”
“Tom Cruise?”
“Yeah! When he does the dance in his underwear, with those rad sunglasses.”
“Wayfarers,” Trip said. “I have a pair you can borrow.”
“You’d need tighty-whitey underwear,” Wren added.
“That’s what you said the last time we had a costume party,” I said.
“When I wore a toga. Remember?” I looked from her to Christy and back again. “Hold on a sec… This was your idea, wasn’t it? The Tom Cruise costume.”
“What if it was?” Wren said mildly.
“What’s it matter?” Christy said. “You totally look like him. Except…”
“Except what?”
“Well, your legs and butt are nicer’n his.”
Wren burst into laughter at my expression. “I swear I didn’t tell her to say that!”
“Say what?” Christy said. “I really do think they’re nicer.”
“Thank you,” I told her with exaggerated politeness. Then I glared at Wren again. “You’re insufferable.”
“Yes.” She wiped the corners of her eyes and couldn’t stop smiling. “I am.”
“So… what?” Christy said. “Don’t you like the costume idea?”
“I love it,” I told her.
“I just thought you’d look nice.”
“I think so too. Thank you.”
She smiled but was still a little confused.
“What’re you going to wear?” I asked her.
“Alice in Wonderland.”
“Your idea too?” I accused Wren.
“I think it’ll be cute!” Christy objected. “Lots of frills and ruffles. Even better, I have the perfect shoes. They’re cute patent leather Mary Janes. I’ve been dying to wear them, but I—”
“Hadn’t found the right outfit yet?” I chuckled.
“Are you going to start making fun of me again?”
“Yes. No. Maybe.”
“Hell hath no fury…,” Trip began.
“Like a pint-sized woman scorned,” I finished.
Christy’s eyes blazed. “You’d better watch out, mister. I could take my brothers out, and I’ll do the same to you.”
“Sure, in a battle of cuteness.” I smiled to take the edge off. “I’m only kidding. You are cute though, especially when you’re riled up.”
“And don’t you forget it!”
“Better watch out, Paul,” Trip said with a laugh, “she’s a feisty one.” He poured the last of the wine into her glass. “Here you go. Facing down bullies is thirsty work.” He turned to Wren. “Want me to fetch another?”
“I think we’re good,” she said.
“Would you get one for Paul and me?” Christy asked.
Wren’s eyebrows shot up.
Mine did the same.
“Oh, come on. Seriously?” Christy said. “We’re going to the studio.
We’ll be working.”
“In that case,” Trip said, “I’ll fetch the ice bucket.” He returned a minute later and handed it to me.
Christy swept up her wineglass. “Come on, Mr. Cute Butt. Let’s get to work.”
Christy drew just as well with a buzz. But the wine lowered her inhibitions, and she forgot to act like a schoolgirl. She didn’t turn into a brazen seductress, but she wasn’t as reserved as usual. She wasn’t as modest, either, which was both good and bad.
Good, because I enjoyed the view.
Bad, because I enjoyed the view.
She was wearing one of her thin bras, and her nipples showed through her light sweater. She was also wearing a tight pair of stirrup pants. My imagination didn’t have to work very hard to picture her without them.
Worst of all, she needed a lot of close-ups and detail sketches. She sat on the floor by my knee, and her sweater fell away from her body whenever she leaned forward. I had a clear view of her small, firm breasts. Her bra was sheer enough that I could see the outline of her areolae. They were dark, almost brown. I could smell her perfume, too, and it was driving me crazy.
I finally lost it when she frowned at one of her sketches. She unconsciously touched her mouth as she studied it. My vision seemed to zoom in on her perfect pink lips. They parted in slow motion. She ran her thumb along them. They closed around it, and she sucked gently.
Blood rushed to my penis so quickly that I actually felt lightheaded. I lost my balance and caught it against the couch.
It took Christy a moment to realize something was wrong. “What…?”
“I’m okay,” I lied. But my dick was already semi-hard. And judging by the spots in my vision, it wasn’t going to stop until it diverted my entire blood supply. “Just a little dizzy.”
“Oh my gosh. It’s probably low blood sugar. Happens to me all the time.”
She stood up abruptly. Her crotch was at eye-level, and I could see through the triangle gap at the top of her thighs. “I’ll be right back. Wait here.”
Where’m I going to go? Out for pizza?
I climbed onto the couch and grabbed one of the pillows to cover my erection.
Gee, that won’t be obvious.
My head was fine by the time Christy flitted up the stairs and thrust a glass of orange juice at me.