Posted by triciaandersen
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The club was packed even at this early hour. Very much unlike the warm pub where they had spent Gordon’s birthday this club was metal cold. A plate metal staircase descended into the club from the entrance door. The stainless steel bar curved to encompass two slate gray walls lined with colored translucent bottles of liquor. Cool blue neon radiated from beneath the steel countertop. Hard black seats mounted on steel poles comprised the club’s barstools. Booths with hard black plastic upholstered bench seats were inset into the wall. Metal tables and chairs were scattered around a concrete dance floor. The place was cold and sterile. It made Abbey very uncomfortable.
Abbey felt Sloan’s fingertips caress her lower back as he directed her to the booth closest to the bar. He motioned her to sit then strode off with Gordon, Bartholomew and Robert in the direction of the bar.
Abbey watched the life that happened around her. It was quickly evident that she wouldn’t have gotten into this place on her own. Everyone in the club had to have a minimum of seven figures in their bank accounts or was with someone who did. Abbey recognized several of the women who passed her table. Their pictures were regularly in the society pages of the discarded newspapers Abbey read at the diner. By the looks of disdain Abbey received she could sense they instantly knew she didn’t belong.
Abbey searched the crowd for Sloan. He was leaning against the bar with the other three men waiting for his drink. Abbey felt a knife twist in her stomach as she watched one woman after another – model-like women, rich women, women dripping in diamonds, perfect women – flock to Sloan’s side. They pressed against Sloan as they talked to him. Even from the distance Abbey was sitting she could feel the seduction rolling off the women in hot and heavy waves.
It made no difference to Abbey that Sloan didn’t seem to respond to them. He had a laugh with Bartholomew and Gordon as he did his best to discourage, or at least ignore, the women rubbing against him like cats in heat. Abbey felt hopelessly inadequate and desperate. Very desperate.
Sloan gathered the bottle of beer and glass of wine in his hands and returned to the booth, wading through the sea of leggy socialites. He set the glass of wine before Abbey then slid into the booth next to Abbey. He laid a strong hand on her thigh.
“My clients aren’t here yet,” he informed her.
Abbey nodded in acknowledgement. She was still focused on the women. Their glares were daggers aimed at Abbey declaring an all out war against her. The victor got to cuddle naked with Sloan tonight.
Abbey was past her breaking point. She looked up at Sloan sweetly. “I need to use the restroom. Can you show me where it is please?”
“Certainly,” he replied.
Abbey took the hand Sloan offered to help her slide out of the booth. She obediently followed him as he led her through the crowd past the bar and down the black painted hallway. He stopped her as they reached the restrooms, the womens to the right and the mens to the left.
“Here you are.” Sloan swept his hand towards the door to the ladies room. “I will wait for you here until you are finished.”
Abbey didn’t budge. Confusion etched across Sloan’s face.
“Abigail, what is it?” he demanded.
Without a word, Abbey wrapped her fingers around Sloan’s black silk tie, drawing his face to hers. She pried his lips open with hers caressing his tongue with hers. She smiled as she heard him moan.
Abbey tugged on the tie like a leash as she stepped backwards into the mens restroom. Sloan stopped in the open doorway, digging his heels of his Italian leather boots into the cement floor to stand his ground.
“Abigail, what the hell are you doing?” he demanded.
Abbey stared at him stunned for a moment. She tugged him to her and dug another deep, wet kiss against his lips. She felt his hands, as well as his resolve, slip as he let go of the doorframe. The restroom door closed behind him.
Abbey wasted no time. She tugged the tie loose then unbuttoned several buttons on his linen shirt. Her fingers trailed to his belt as they fumbled to unlatch the buckle. She sighed as she felt his pants fall open.
Sloan pulled from the kiss. “Abigail, stop.”
Abbey noticed that, despite his objection, his hands still caressed her breasts. “Why? Don’t you want to?”
Sloan groaned. “Oh, hell yes Abbey. But I don’t have any protection with me.”
Abbey crushed herself against Sloan feeling the very convincing evidence of just how much he wanted her throbbing against her hip. “Please, Sloan?” she pleaded breathlessly. “Please?”
Abbey’s whimpers blew away whatever self control Sloan had. With a growl, he spun her around and shoved her against the cement wall with his own muscular, powerful body. The cool paint against Abbey’s cheek and bare chest was a severe contrast to her hot flushed skin. She gasped and trembled as she felt Sloan’s fingers skim her thighs as he grasped the hem of her skirt and tugged it up.
About triciaandersenI am the author and illustrator of the children's book "The Peculiar Princess". I am also the author of two adult fantasy romance novels, "The Sorceress of Savon" and "The Woodcutter King of Muladin". Along with being an author I am married to a wonderful guy and have three beautiful children. I coach youth track and field, sew and chase my children around to their various activities.
Posted on July 3, 2012, in author, books, fiction, novel, romance, story, Uncategorized, writing and tagged airplane, author, baseball, beatles, beer, black, books, boyfriend, brownsville, candle, cars, cell phone, chevy cavalier, childrens, coffee, coffeshop, courthouse, diner, engage, fiction, fiction writing, girlfriend, husband, iowa, irish, jet, kiss, love, manhattan, mom, New York, night club, novel, office, phone, propose, pub, publish, relationships, ring, romance, roses, serial, story, strawberry fields, waitress, wedding, wife, writer. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.