He was silent.
He reached down and ran his fingers through my hair—slowly and gently, making my heart beat ten times faster. He leaned in like he was going to kiss me—tilting my chin up so my lips could touch his, using his other hand to caress my neck, but then he suddenly stopped.
He stepped back and sighed. “What time does your birthday party start tonight?”
“Nine...” I could barely hear my own voice.
“Well, I have a last minute meeting tonight so I might be really late. I’ve been looking forward to it all week.”
Silence.
I looked into his eyes and he looked back into mine. There was palpable tension in the air and I wanted him to slice through it. I wanted him to step back over and kiss me until I was out of breath, to rip my clothes off and—
His cell phone started to ring, breaking us out of the spell.
“Hello?” he answered, keeping his eyes on me. “Yeah...by noon on Monday. Okay...Okay, I’ll be right there.” He headed for the door. “I’ll see you tonight?”
“Yes...” I waited until the door closed and slipped out of my chair.
I stood in front of the bathroom mirror at Havana and tugged at the end of my dress. It was a red haltered dress that ended near the middle of my thighs and accentuated my br**sts—the type of dress I would prevent my daughters from wearing until they were twenty one.
“You don’t think this makes it look like I’m trying too hard, Sands?” I turned around and frowned at the low deep cut in the back. “This is a bit revealing...”
“Trying too hard to do what? You look good, Claire! If I had your legs, I would show them off all the time. Is your boss still coming?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. He said he had a late meeting.”
“Well, I hope he comes. I have to see the man that makes you blush.”
“He does not make me blush!”
Sandra pursed her lips and gave me her “whatever you say” look. It still shocked me that she’d never found someone to settle down with. She was pretty, had her own practice, and seemed to charm every man she met. Unlike me, she’d embraced her age—forty one, and swore that she’d rather be forty than twenty any day.
“Are we going to stand in here all day, Claire? You know Helen can only sit by herself for so long.”
“Right.” I looked myself over one last time and followed her back out into the lounge.
We walked over to our reserved table, but Helen wasn’t there.
A man in a white tuxedo stepped in front of us. “Are you ladies a part of Claire Gracen’s party?”
“Yes. I’m Claire Gracen,” I said.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Gracen. Come with me.” He smiled. “We’re sorry we didn’t upgrade your table as soon as you arrived. Please forgive us.”
I shrugged my shoulders at Sandra and followed the man onto a glass elevator, up to the balcony level that overlooked the marble stoned dance floor.
He led us over to a luxurious VIP table in a corner where Helen was downing a Cosmo and smiling.
“I told you two not to spend that much money for my birthday.” I sat down, looking back and forth between her and Sandra. “Why would you—”
“You think either of us would spend thousands of dollars on a VIP table for one night?” Helen scoffed. “I think they mixed your name up with someone else’s, but I’m going to drink as much as I can before they figure that out.”
“Me too!” Sandra picked up a glass. “Cheers to Claire for finally joining the forty club! The best club there is!”
We clinked our glasses together and laughed.
As we talked, the waiters continued refilling our glasses and bringing over trays of delicious h’ordeuvres—insisting that we try out the exotic specials that were only available at the bar across the room.
I kept asking them about the price of the drinks and the amount of the tab, hoping it wouldn’t be too much at the end of the night. Yet, each time I asked, they would laugh and say, “Don’t worry. It’s been more than taken care of.”
“So, last week I had sex at the zoo.” Helen put down her drink. “I think I could have lived without that one. I’m not sure if being pounded right in front of the giraffe exhibit was as exciting as I thought it would be.”
I spluttered my drink back into the glass. “Could we not talk about your sex life for one day? Just one?”
“Oh Claire honey, what’s wrong? Are you still suffering from ‘dick withdrawal syndrome’? It’s okay. It only lasts for as long as you let it last. Although you should know that you’re currently in your sexual prime. Seeing as though you haven’t had sex since—God, I can’t even think back that far so—”
“Okay, Helen. You’ve made your point.” I sighed. “Tell us the damn story.”