Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
There was a gate that let us in out front, as well as two security guards, but I can’t help but still do a safety check glance around the grounds as Paul and Rachel step out of the car. I guess it’s just habit now that I can’t shake.
I notice two matching fountains on either side of the driveway, framed in by perfectly manicured hedges.
“Took almost a full year to get those put in,” Paul says as we walk to the front door. “And that was paying extra to expedite the job.”
“Well, it looks fantastic,” I say, nodding with approval. “Everything looks great.”
“Are you two going to stand outside all night?” Rachel calls from the door. “Or are we going to have those drinks?”
Paul looks at me and smiles. “We can talk fountains and shrubbery later.”
“Right.” I grin back.
Paul and I take the steps up to the door where Rachel is kicking off her heels. She prances across the marble foyer, tosses her arms into the air, and lets out a very satisfied sound somewhere between a moan and a sigh.
“So good to be home!” She giggles as Paul shuts the door behind us. She spins like a ballerina and turns to face us. “Don’t you agree, honey?”
“I do.” Paul nods. “And what a wonderful job you did putting together this evening’s exhibit.”
“Thank you, sweetie,” Rachel replies. “But what about this exhibit?”
She twists and starts gyrating her hips as she walks backwards toward a door leading to what looks like a living room. She moves with incredible sensuality, like she’s a private dancer that Paul’s hired out just for the two of us.
I glance over at Paul, expecting for him to be giving me a look like don’t-touch-my-wife or avert-your-eyes or something, but he’s not even looking at me. He’s just watching his wife as she continues to move.
“That’s a great display, baby,” Paul says with a smile, walking after her. I stay where I am, standing in the middle of the foyer, until he turns and looks back at me. “You coming?”
What in the world is going on right now?
I follow them into a living room that’s larger than the entire ground floor of my house with a wet-bar on my left. Paul steps behind it and starts going through bottles.
“You a whiskey man, Jake?”
“Uh, sure,” I reply, feeling slightly off-balance. Rachel is standing in front of a fireplace now with a remote in her hand. She thumbs it, and flames spring to life.
“Fancy,” I say. “I have to actually light mine by hand.”
Giggling, she turns around to face me. “It’s crazy you don’t have a woman, Jake. Isn’t it crazy, Paul?”
“It sure is, baby.” Paul smiles as he starts mixing something behind the bar.
Rachel takes out her phone and thumbs it, and some very chill, very sensual music starts to play. She starts dancing by the fire, swaying her hips, running her hands through her hair, the whole time her eyes fixed on me.
I have no idea what’s going on right now. Rachel hasn’t even had a drink, but you could almost mistake her for being drunk if you didn’t know better. And all that coming on to me she did in the car ride back from the museum? What are these two up to?
“Hey, Jake, I’ve got your drink ready,” Paul says.
“Hmm? Oh, yeah,” I reply, turning away from Rachel. I go over to the bar and take a heavy glass from Paul containing some kind of whiskey cocktail. I take a sip. Whatever it is, it’s good. “Thank you.”
“You like it?” he asks.
“Yes, thank you,” I reply.
“What about my wife?” he asks. “What do you think about her?”
What did he just say?
I glance back over my shoulder to see if Rachel has moved from her spot by the fire to listen in on our conversation, but she’s still there—still dancing sensually like before.
When I look back at Paul, he’s staring at me expectantly. He picks up his own glass and takes a long sip from it.
“I’m sorry, what?” I ask.
“My wife,” he repeats. Yup, he just said what I think he said. “What do you think about her?”
He must be pissed. Clearly he picked up on the way she was acting on the ride back, and it doesn’t take a genius to see how she’s behaving now. And now he’s pissed.
See, this is why I shouldn’t have accepted her invitation to come inside for a drink. I knew better, and yet I still came inside. What is wrong with me?
“Listen, Paul, I wasn’t trying to come on to your wife or anything. If that’s what you think–”
“Jake, relax!” Paul laughs, putting a hand on my shoulder. “That’s not what I’m implying. I’m just asking you—do you think she’s pretty? Do you think she’s sexy?”
Seriously, what the fuck is going on now? How do you even answer in this situation?