"Is the make-up a requirement to make that, um...happen?" I have no idea why I still get nervous with Brett. There isn't an inch of my body that he hasn't touched. It may have something to do with his lack of commitment.
It's been almost two months, and since that first night in the beginning, we have never had a single conversation about our relationship. It weighs on my mind, and as the weeks go by, it’s starting to invade my dreams too. Last week, I woke up twice in a cold sweat. They start off hot enough, it's always Brett making love to me, but then it all goes wrong. Every time, Sarah swings open the door, at the most inopportune time and starts screaming at me to get off her husband. Okay, maybe I have a few issues with Brett still being married, even if it isn't a real marriage.
"Why, gorgeous, what are you trying to suggest? Would you like it if we tried a little something new tonight? Don't be shy with me, tell me what you want, babe. I'm open to anything with you. Well, almost anything. You're not a closet kinkster are you? I'm not sure I can get down with whips and chains. Although, now that I'm thinking about it, the idea of you in a leather get-up is doing wicked things to my imagination. Perhaps we should try something new right now? You know, save us both the torture of having to wait until tonight." He lifts a sexy eyebrow questioningly. As tempted as I am to take him up on his offer, the oven timer goes off, reminding me that we need to get to my mom's ASAP.
"Sorry, big boy, you're just going to have to wait." In a random moment of boldness, I spin around in his arms leaning over to pull the pie out of the oven, and rub my butt against the zipper of his pants. I hear him groan, as I step out of his grasp. "Don't just stand there, let's go," I say, heading to the door.
"Fuck." He adjusts his pants and follows behind me.
Steps before we hit the door, he pulls the pie from my hands and pushes me into the wall. Using his long arms to hold my famous apple pie away from us he says, "Gorgeous, I hope you know what that little stunt back there bought you. It's going to be a long night for you, so I suggest you drink a few beers after dinner. You know, loosen up a bit," he winks, pulling open the door and guiding me out. It's a miracle I can even walk after that.
WHEN WE arrive at my mom's, I'm thrilled to see that Eric isn't there yet. After the incident between he and Brett at the bar, I know today is going to be a little tense. The next day, after Brett tried to have Eric arrested, I got a call from my mom asking a million questions. Apparently Eric really is a twelve year old because he called my mom first thing the next morning to tattle. Mom was more concerned with who I was dating than anything that happened at the bar. When I told her Brett would be coming to Thanksgiving, she got all excited and rushed off the phone to order a bigger turkey.
I've never brought anyone home before, so to my mom this is a really big deal. I need to get to her though and make sure she understands that Brett and I are not all that serious yet, before she starts asking him about kids and picking out china patterns. That is a conversation that would be much easier without Eric adding his stupid two cents.
When we get to the front door I don't bother knocking and just head inside,
"Mom?"
"In here, JJ." I hear my mom call from the kitchen. I peak around the corner to see her holding a huge turkey in the sink, stuffing it with spices. "Little help here?"
"Holy crap, mom! That turkey is huge."
"I know we need to hurry and get this thing in the oven or it won’t be ready until Christmas." I leave Brett standing by the counter and rush over to help before my mom drops the giant bird on the kitchen floor.
"Why did you buy one this big?" I grunt trying to pull the slippery turkey into the roasting pan.
"I heard your man was a big one, so I figured I needed a big turkey to feed him," she says, washing her hands and wiping them dry on her old school apron.
I roll my eyes and glance over my shoulder to see Brett chuckling to himself.
"Mom, this is Brett Sharp. Brett this is my mom, Rachel Clay."
"Ms. Clay," Brett steps forward offering a hand, but I know my mom, and a handshake isn't going to cut it.
"Brett, please call me Rachel, and get that hand out of my way. I'm a hugger." She reaches up on her tip toes and slings an arm around his neck.
This time it's me laughing as Brett's eyes go wide in surprise. I might be shy, but that was one of the few things I didn't get from my mother. She has no problem speaking her mind, and hugging anything that happens to walk past her.
"Now, I've heard a few things about you from Eric. Most of them are not so great. So tell me about yourself. Prove to me what my arrogant son said was all wrong."
"Mom!" I scream embarrassed. This is worse than when I thought Eric would be here. She didn't beat around the bush at all.
"Did you just call me arrogant?" I hear Eric walk into the kitchen. Fantastic!