The Sweetest Revenge
Sure enough, when I approach the party, there’s a plastic tub filled with ice off to one side, and I help myself to a tall boy. It’s not a classy drink, but I pop the top with a hiss, and then take a long swig. The taste is slightly bitter and I cringe, but at least the cold helps me feel better.
I spend the next couple hours walking aimlessly around the party, talking to our neighbors with a smile on my face. Fortunately, sanity reigns, and after downing half the tall boy, I decide to cut myself off. Alcohol is not the answer, and besides, the image of my mom and Eddie is beginning to fade from my mind. My ex was no catch, and neither is Denise. Maybe they’re better off together, come to think of it.
Instead, my mind begins swinging towards the night that I shared with Jack Straithmore. Why hasn’t he called? Was I supposed to reach out? My heart pulses and suddenly, I realize that I don’t actually care that Eddie was sleeping with someone else. He never treated me well and being with him wasn’t much fun for me either. Instead, now I’m interested in his father, and the question is: how do I convince Jack Straithmore that I need a repeat of that wonderful night?
6
Dakota
* * *
Jack’s handsome face fills my mind and I catch myself smiling. I know it was wrong for me to use him as a part of my haphazard revenge scheme, but I can’t bring myself to regret it. Every part of being with Jack was amazing, whereas with Eddie, things never felt right, and I never enjoyed myself when we tried to be intimate. Eddie is selfish and obviously, I never climaxed, not even once when we were in bed together.
But with Jack, it was utterly different. I bite my lip remembering how the older man took his time with me. Everything he did from the start was about making me feel good, and “good” isn’t really the best descriptor. The alpha male was commanding yet gentle, and he made my body light up in ways I didn’t even know were possible. Frankly, in contrast to his hapless son, Jack is a real man. A man who knows exactly what he was doing and knew how to make love to a woman until she’s senseless with pleasure. By comparison, Eddie was nothing but a boy who literally didn’t have the right tools to make things happen.
My stomach starts to grumble, successfully pulling me out of my fantasy, and I remember I only had that popcorn earlier this evening. I spot a hot dog cart with a gay striped umbrella on the other side of the street and make my way over.
The plump hot dog is delicious and tangy, and slathered in just the right amount of ketchup and mustard. I smile sourly to myself thinking about how my mother would disapprove if she saw me right now, but you know what? I don’t care what Denise thinks anymore. Obviously, my curvy figure was enough to seduce a real man, even if she doesn’t know it.
I take another big bite of the hot dog with relish, and a huge blob of ketchup squirts onto my cheek. Simultaneously, someone places a hand on my shoulder from behind, and I turn to see who it is, dabbing at my face with a napkin. Of course, it’s Jack.
My breath catches, and my heart starts skipping around in my chest. I can’t swallow fast enough.
“Jack… Jack,” I stammer while trying to look for a trash can to toss the rest of my snack. “What are you doing here?”
Jack brings his thumb to the corner of my mouth and wipes at the red smear. “That looks good,” he says with a lazy grin, and I feel myself blush. “This is a neighborhood party, sweetheart, and I live in the neighborhood. Don’t you remember? Speaking of which, I think I’ll have a hot dog with you.”
He pulls out his wallet, orders his own dog, then then grins at me again. “Would you like another?” he asks.
“Oh, no, I’m good,” I stammer, holding up the other half of my meal. “Haven’t finished mine yet in fact.”
He grins and after getting his order, he takes my hand and we sit down at a set of picnic tables near the other vendors. It’s a beautiful evening, and the block party organizers have strung up colored lights overhead. The band, to my surprise, is playing light jazz instead of the usual thumping beats they have at these things. Jack casually edges closer to me on the bench, his muscular form massive. He’s so near that I can feel his body heat, and I can hardly breathe.
“You should finish eating,” he grins, pointing at the remains of my hot dog sitting on the table. It glistens attractively but I shake my head.