Page 62 of A Country Kind Of Love
“What are you guys talking about?” Cleo wraps her arms around Peyton.
“Oh, nothing much... Jesse has a third nipple thing on his chest. He’s worried about it, so I told him he should see a doctor.”
A third nipple? That’s the best you could come up with?
“I...” Peyton pleads with her eyes. “I... do have a third nipple?” Jesse clutches his chest.
“Huh, yeah, you should probably get that checked out,” Cleo says.
“On it.” Jesse scowls at Peyton, raises his mug in salute, and retreats tohis bedroom.
?
The seating area with the royal blue chairs, white clinical floors, and grand piano gives her PTSD. It’s the place she first met Cleo which brings her some comfort, but it’s also the establishment that hires a dark-haired receptionist called Mandy, who could be the devil’s spawn. Today she’s traded her red-framed glasses for a more discrete tortoiseshell pair. Her hair is poker straight. There is not one split end and not one curl of hair pointing in the wrong direction. It is perfectly shiny—isshe a robot?
It would make sense. There are stranger things in the world; she could be the first piece of artificial intelligence placed in Nashville to specifically ruin the hopes and dreams of young singers.
“Morning, Mandy.”
“Morning, Cleo.” Mandy smiles.
She can smile?She also doesn’t look completely devastatedto see her.
Odd.
“You’re in room five on the third floor.”
“Thank you.”
She barely acknowledges Peyton. “Why is she so nice to you?”
Cleo shrugs. “Maybe she has a soft spot for me.”
“Hmm, I bet she does.” If it was possible for Peyton’s eyes to change colour they’d be a dark fierce shade of green.
Cleo laughs it off. When the elevator doors open she glances around. There’s nobody in sight. She pulls Peyton inside and hurriedly presses her against the elevator wall. Her breathing deepens. The cold compress of the metal against her shoulders is soon forgotten, and the warmth of Cleo invades her body.
“Ever had sex in an elevator?” Cleo wiggles her eyebrows.
“Erm... no.” Peyton gulps, but she’d sure as hellbe willing.
The small control panel that signals the floor level moves from one to two. There isn’t much time. Cleo kisses her neck. God does she kiss it good. How does she do that? How do her lips send signals into every nerve in Peyton’s body? It’snot normal.
Maybe the elevator will break down, and they’ll be trapped inside the hot metal tin sweating and kissing, and—her mind runs away.
Pleasebreak down.
She would not be opposed to a Bette and Tina style elevator sex scene. However, she doesn’t believe her curls will stand the humidity the way that Jennifer’s did.
A girl can dream.
Cleo reaches up inside her shirt. Her hands are warm and soft. Peyton isn’t sure what to do with herself. Has anyone ever orgasmed from just touching skin? She makes a mental note to Google it when she returns home.
She pulls at Cleo’s jersey bottoms. They’re so loose that they’re hanging off her hips. All Peyton gets is a handful of Adonis belt. She traces the length of Cleo’s hip bone diagonally until it meets her pelvis, and she wants to remove every piece of clothing that keeps her from pleasuring Cleo, but she can’t. She glances up; the floor level moves from two to three.
God damn it.
“To be continued,” Cleo whispers.
