Ayooooogah!
I suddenly realized I’d been standing there in just my beige push-up strapless bra, a tiny pair of panties, lace-top thigh-high stockings… and garters. I figured it was a special occasion, so what the hell.
Trip’s tongue rolled across the floor and back up into his mouth as he regained his composure.
He perched a hip against the dresser and crossed his arms over his naked chest. He looked so gorgeous standing there in just a towel, with his intentionally mussed hair and his calm, commanding stance.
A smirk decorated his face as he said, “Lay, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I can afford stuff like this now.”
“It’s too much.”
“Not by a longshot.”
“Well, I’m just going to return it.” I crossed my arms over my chest. See? I could be stubborn, too.
Trip dropped his arms and came over toward me. He put his hands on my shoulders and implored, “Look. Please don’t deny me the pleasure of buying you things. Besides, you can’t return it. It’s already been altered.”
“You could feed a small country for the price of that dress!”
“Babe. I give enough money away to feed some very large countries. Don’t get all guilty on me. It’s okay to spoil yourself every now and then. Just let me do this, okay?”
I pursed my lips and squinted at him, but didn’t answer. He knew he was winning me over. Because honestly? I really freaking loved that dress.
“Besides, it’s a big deal for Siobhan to see her stuff strutting down the red carpet. When you’re asked who you’re wearing, don’t forget to add where you got it. Got it?”
Okay, I admit it. I was wrong. Fairytales do exist. I suddenly had a new appreciation for Pretty Woman, because all I could think at that moment was that I was Cinderfuckinrella. There he was like a kid on Christmas, so excited to unveil his surprise and I was yelling at him for it. What was I going to do for an encore? Kick him in the nards?
“Fine. Okay. Yes. Thank you, Trip. This is really an incredible thing to do. I’m blown away.”
He was smiling as bent his head to plant one on me, saying, “You can show me how grateful you are later.”
Our lips met, and my fingers immediately went to the back of his still-damp hair. He slid his hands along my backside, pulled me tighter against his hips, and groaned against my mouth. I was feeling a little dizzy from his… enthusiasm, and wrapped my arms around his shoulders, raising up on my toes and pressing into him. Just as things started to get interesting, he tore his lips from mine with a grunt and said, “Shit, Lay-Lay. We’d better get dressed. The car will be here any minute.”
*
Trip was sitting in an armchair in a corner of the foyer when I met up with him. He looked positively drool-worthy, lounging out casually in his formalwear, his fingers against his temple, waiting for me.
I stood in front of his knees, gave him a twirl and asked, “How do I look?”
He didn’t break his pose, but appraised me with a scandalous perusal along my entire body. “I don’t know, babe. It hurts to look right at you. Gorgeous, in any case.”
Then he got up from his chair, wrapped an arm around my waist, and pulled me to him. “Stop smiling at me like that. It makes me want to blow off this whole night and just take you back to bed.”
I almost let him.
I was a nervous wreck in the limo on the way to the Kodak Theatre. Trip kept his hand on my knee, and he must have been nervous, too, because his fingers never slipped any higher. The limo had a bar alcove with a few decanters of liquor, and I wondered how many times he’d taken advantage of such perks in the old days.
We made it to our destination in decent time, but had to idle in a queue of similar cars, waiting for our turn to pull up to the main entrance. That was the hardest part of the whole evening, I think. Just having to sit there and sweat it out, the raucous cheers of the crowd pouring through the closed windows in an oppressive deluge of sound. Despite the waning sun, the strobe-like flashing of hundreds of cameras punctuated the sky. Up ahead, I could see the sentinel of monstrous Oscar statues, their heads glowing a fiery gold, lining the entrance to the red carpet.