Page 5 of Riley

“Hey,” I say and smile, offering her my arm. “You look radiant.” She slides her arm into mine, and I admire the colorful butterfly tattoo near her elbow. She has an eclectic collection of ink, actually, and it’s as interesting as it is beautiful. I see words in ancient languages, mixed in amongst butterflies and flowers and so many symbols that I can’t even begin to explain. It flows together in a spectacular work of art on the canvas of her body.

“Thanks,” she replies with a smile. “You clean up pretty well, too.”

I grin and open the passenger door, helping her inside and closing the door behind her. We headed downtown, where I made a reservation at my favorite club. It’s an intimate venue with live jazz and private booths, not to mention the impressive appetizers. We pull up to the valet and leave the car, and security quickly ushers us in. Since it’s strictly reservation only, there’s never much of a line. Just the occasional hopeful that rarely gets in.

The joint has a hazy and mysterious atmosphere, a little romantic, a little sexy, and right away, Riley seems to love it. I see her looking at the original artwork on the walls and admiring the hand-carved wood on the booths. The owners have extraordinary taste and a precise vision for this place.

Once we are shown to our booth, I order a sampler plate of some of their best-selling snacks, and surprisingly Riley and I both order an Old Fashioned to drink.

“You don’t strike me as a whiskey drinker,” I say when the waiter leaves.

“What? Did you expect me to order a beer? Or maybe some fruity cocktail?”

“I don’t really know,” I reply honestly. “I just don’t know many women who like Old Fashioneds at all.”

“Hm, well, gender doesn’t determine what kind of alcohol a person likes. Or anything else for that matter.”

I sense a sore topic and quickly change the subject.

“So, tell me about life in New York.” Our drinks arrive, and she takes a long sip before speaking.

“New York was a dream. The energy is like nothing you’ll ever experience anywhere else. Oh, and the food… God, I already miss the food,” she pauses and takes another drink, then continues. “I went there to pursue art, you know? Originally I was going to try and get into Parsons, but almost everyone in that school got in because they had connections, and honestly, I didn’t want to be in that kind of environment. So, I found some groups of local artists, got a regular nine-to-five job, and spent my evenings making art and attending every show that I could.”

“It sounds like a lot of hard work and sleepless nights,” I say.

She laughs a bit. “Understatement of the century. It was so worth it, though. I learned more about myself as a person – and an artist – in the first year than I had in the first eighteen years of my life. I didn’t think I was ever going to pack up and leave the city.”

“So why move back then?” I ask. “I mean, I know you came back to help your family, but why decide to make it permanent?”

She swirls her drink and knocks the rest back. My eyes widen a bit; she doesn’t even flinch. The waiter hurries over and takes her glass, and Riley orders another. After the waiter leaves again, she continues.

“Honestly? When I came back to visit, I realized how much I miss my family. And how much I miss Krista. Seeing everyone again reminded me how nice a close-knit community can be. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my fast-paced life in New York, but you get so caught up in work and that lifestyle that you forget to create meaningful connections sometimes. At least, I did. I have friends there, of course, but nothing like Krista or my sisters. And it got me thinking: If I want to settle down and maybe have a family someday, coming back home might be the best way to do it.”

After she’s finished her second drink and I’m still only halfway through mine, she starts looking a little tipsy. She reaches across to touch my hand when she thinks I say something funny or bumps my foot with hers under the table. She’s a handsy drunk… Fun.

“So after I finished med school,” I wrap up my story of why I became a doctor. “I decided instead of getting into practice; I’d rather take on emergency medicine for a while and volunteer my time at some of the low-income clinics. Honestly, I’m a bit of a workaholic, and sad as it sounds, I use it as an escape from my lonely life.” I knock back the rest of my drink and nearly choke when I feel her bare foot caress my thigh under the booth. Yeah, I’m in for an exciting night.

5

Riley

“Y

ou want to get out of here?” Adam asks with a hooded stare. The whiskey has me a little tipsy, but luckily I’m not drunk. A bit of a buzz for courage never hurt.

“Yeah, let’s go,” I agree and grab my purse. Adam pays for our drinks, and then we make our way out of the club.

“I ordered a taxi,” he says. “I don’t think either of us should be driving tonight.”

I stand close to him and lean lightly into his side. He slings an arm over my shoulders and rubs my arm a bit.

“Are you cold?” he asks, and I move in closer.

“Only a little. I’m sure you can figure out a way to warm me up back at your place.”

I feel him jerk a little in surprise before his arm tightens around me, and he lets out a shaky breath. The car pulls up then, and Adam opens the door, ushering me inside before sliding in next to me. He confirms the address, and as soon as the car leaves the curb, I can’t control myself any longer. I lean in close and run my hand up his thigh, brushing my lips lightly against his ear.

“You’re less of a pain in the ass than I remember,” I say and giggle. “You make me so hot, Adam. I want you so much,” I whisper against the shell of his ear. I watch in fascination as his erection grows through his jeans. The rigid outline gives me a pretty good idea of what he’s packing, and I can’t wait to get my hands on it. The driver clears his throat, and I realize that we’ve stopped. Adam glances out the window and blushes.

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