Everything I'm Not

He was shaking his head no as I arrived.

"Hi, guys, what's up?"

Betty gave Eric a disgusted look. "I'm trying to talk some sense into this lunkhead. He says he's not going to the Halloween Ball the Chamber of Commerce holds every year. It's a big deal, and the proceeds go to charities. It will be a great opportunity to do a little networking. He won't go because it's sponsored by your bank and because that's where he first suspected the sl...er, wife of cheating the first time."

I had already been told my attendance was mandatory. I had been doing a lot of the face time for the bank, so I was pretty well known. My boss was full of suggestions for a costume.

"They like you because you're young and hot, and you don't look like a banker. Wear something that makes you look like a slutty virgin. Think you can pull that off?" He walked off laughing.

I just rolled my eyes at his back. Why does family always have the ability to piss you off and get away with it? He was a second cousin.

I decided to use my feminine wiles to get him to go because they had been working so well on him lately. Not. "Come on, Eric. My boss is making me go. Please? It'll give me someone to talk to."

He laughed. "I doubt you'll lack for conversation, especially from the gentlemen."

"That's just it. I have to protect the reputation of the bank. I need someone to protect me. I'll say pretty please."

"Well, I admit it, I love to hear a woman beg in public, it makes me wonder what she's willing to do in private."

Betty burst out laughing while my cheeks glowed. I retorted. "You have no idea what I can be capable of. Be my date at Halloween and maybe you'll find out."

Everybody close had stopped talking and was listening with interest.

I nearly had a heart attack when he dropped to one knee and took my hand. "Miss Susan Johnson, would you do me the honor of allowing me to escort you to the Halloween Ball?"

Not to be outdone, I curtsied as well as I could. "Yes, Mr. Eric Summers, I would love to accompany you to the Halloween Ball. Have your carriage pick me up at seven. I expect fine dining before we attend."

He stood, and in an exaggerated expression of gallantry, kissed my hand. "Until next Saturday, Miss Johnson."

*****

I drove myself crazy trying to figure out what to wear. It didn't help that he wouldn't tell me what he was wearing. Finally, he sent me a text. "Wear something that has a bodice worth ripping."

I went bright red. How was it he always knew what to say to make me blush?

I settled on a Spanish dancer costume. Long flowing black skirt that went almost to my ankles, soft leather boots with spike heels, an off the shoulder white peasant bodice that showed off my girls pretty well and was gathered tightly around my waist, a black shawl, an elaborate hairdo held in place with tortoiseshell combs, and an intricate but tiny black mask. I looked in the mirror and wanted to take myself to bed.

I had been ready ten minutes when the knock came. I checked my makeup one more time and opened the door. I almost didn't recognize him.

Black tights that clung to him like a second skin, shiny black boots, a white translucent shirt with lace at the collar and puffy sleeves, unbuttoned almost to his navel, showing off his chiseled body.

But what threw me for a loop was the long, silky, shoulder length hair that spilled into his eyes.

I stood, my mouth hanging open until my brain kicked in. "Who are you supposed to be?"

His white teeth gleamed as he smiled. "Isn't it obvious? I'm the hunk you always see on the cover of those old romance novels. What do you think, can I pull it off?

Indeed he could, it made me want to pull things off both of us. He kept grinning, I felt like he knew what I was thinking. I blushed. Again. He started talking.

"Why do you think I asked you to wear what I did? And I have to tell you, that bodice looks temptingly rippable."

I didn't think I was capable of blushing any deeper, but I was wrong. Instinctively I touched the top of my blouse. His grin got deeper. He held out his hand.

"Come, we have reservations. And blame Betty for the costumes. She said watching us is like reading a trashy romance novel. I thought it was a good idea."

We went to Exclamation Point. There were no words on the building, just a very large '!'. It was Gaston's, one of the chefs we were working with. He came out to greet us and oohed and ahhed over our costumes. He especially liked Eric's, literally drooling. He refused to let us order, saying he was handling the menu tonight and gave us his best table. I teased Eric after he left.

"I think Gaston would be happy if you switched teams."

It didn't embarrass him at all. "Yes, he tries to persuade me of the error of my ways about three times a year. I decline, politely of course. He thinks if he has enough time, he can convert me. I have to admit when he's dressed as a woman he's quite attractive."

Damn it, why can't I stop blushing?

People were staring at us. There were others there in costume, but in all modesty (like I have any), there wasn't a better-looking couple in the place.

The food was divine, and of course, most of the vegetables came from his farm.

"Is this where your produce goes, high-end restaurants?"

"Not as much anymore, I mostly mass market to some local grocery chains, but I started out selling at the farmer's market. My stuff is grown without chemical fertilizers and pesticides, something that appealed to them, so my business grew."

"So you're organic?"

He frowned. "I can't say organic unless I pay the federal government a massive amount of money and jump through all kinds of hoops, fill out endless paperwork, and allow all kinds of inspections. Not worth the money. If I were to say the O word, and not be certified, it's a ten thousand dollar fine. What I can say is that my produce is 'traditionally and sustainably grown, without the use of chemical fertilizers and pesticides' and be legal."

"But isn't that the very definition of organic?"

He grinned again. "Not according to the U.S. government."

I sighed. Farming was a lot more complex than I ever imagined.

Just before we left the restaurant a lady that looked to be sixty approached the table. She had been staring at us all evening. "Eric, is that you?"

He looked up, a smile of pleasure on his lips. "I was wondering how long it was going to take you to recognize me. How are you, Miss Martha?"

"I'm as fine as a foolish old woman can be these days. And who is this lovely creature?"

"Forgive my lack of manners, Miss Martha, this is Miss Susan Johnson. I'm escorting her to the Halloween Ball."

She eyed me critically. "Excuse the interest dear, but you look very familiar."

Before I could answer Eric interceded. "She should. She's been on the television a lot lately, between her job at the bank and doing the publicity for Feast In The Field. It's going to be the best one we've had so far, I believe. Will you and Jerome be attending?"

"Of course we will, we haven't missed one since you started. I love the food and the cause, and Jerome never misses a chance to press the flesh, especially rich flesh."

She seemed hesitant, then asked if she and her friends could have a photograph done with him. "That way we can tell outrageous lies about the male stripper we captured as our toy."

She said it with a cheeky grin. Three more ladies, all about the same age, came over at her urging. He posed with them individually and as a group.

Making sure they were ready, he grabbed Martha and dipped her, planting a big kiss on her lips, holding the pose for thirty seconds while the rest snapped away. He stood her back up and watched as she glowed. "There you go, Miss Martha, that should make believers out of anyone who doubts your story."

Half the restaurant was openly laughing or smiling.

"No fair!" whined the youngest of the group. If you looked up cougar in the dictionary you would find her picture. Let's just say she had a little work done and leave it at that. Nobody that age still has boobs that defy gravity. It's not natural.

So, in the spirit of things, he dipped and kissed them all. It didn't bother me until Ms. Cougar grabbed him and tried to give his tonsils an exam with her tongue. I was about to pry the bitch off when he stood up. She grinned and licked her lips, flicking her tongue across her teeth.

I was close enough to hear her whisper, "There's a lot more available if you're interested."

Mentally looking up the number of the attorneys the bank used, hoping they had a hotshot that could get me out of elderly abuse charges, I opened my mouth, but Gaston saved me from embarrassment and jail time by showing up at that exact moment.

"Eric, shame on you! If one of these MATURE ladies has a heart attack, who do you think would get sued? Me. No more public displays of lust, unless it's for me. In that case, I'd make an exception."

Before anyone could react, Eric pulled Gaston down in a dip and planted a big smooch right on his lips. Cell phone flashes went off all over the dining room. When Eric let him go, he was flushed and looked suspiciously like he was weak in the knees. He turned to the diners.

"I want those pictures!" he declared ominously. "The best one gets a free dinner for two! I'm having it blown up and hung on the wall. After all, how many times in your life are you going to get a kiss from such a hunk?"

Diners were laughing as he went around looking at the photos.

The cougar bristled at the 'mature' remark while the rest of them laughed, thanking Eric for making their night memorable.

Damn it, why was he kissing old ladies and gay guys when I had a perfectly fine set of lips that would actually enjoy being kissed, as Rhett Butler said, "Hard and often?"

He told me on the way over to the ballroom that Miss Martha was the wife of the three-term U.S. Senator.

Martha and her posse were also going to the ball and apparently had sent photos ahead. The little old ladies and the sluts were packing up on me, trying to monopolize his time. During a break, I reminded him of the old Southern expression, "Dance with the one what brung ye."

He apologized just before Ms. Cougar grabbed him and swept him away. For an old bitch, she sure was strong. I sat and fumed, before accepting a dance offer from one of my co-workers. It felt good to see him frown when we twirled past him.

I decided to get a little revenge and put my P.R. degree to work. I talked the bandleader into giving me a microphone when they went on break.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for coming out and helping support the charities this gala funds. We're going to have a little impromptu fundraiser right now. Ladies, how many of you have an old romance novel lying around your house that has a half-dressed hunk on the cover? Most of you, if you'll admit it."

There were grins and a few giggles, especially from the older ladies. Eric was watching from the table, frowning slightly.

"Well, we have our very own hunk here tonight. Eric, come up and take a bow."

The spotlight hit him, and he had no choice but to stand beside me. I grabbed his hand, the most contact I'd had with him all night. "Couldn't you just eat him up?" I asked.

The ladies, many of them under a three drink or more handicap, clapped and hooted.

"Well, here's your chance. For a mere twenty-dollar donation, Mr. Hunk will be available for a kiss and a photo."

I held up a twenty-dollar bill to the crowd. "I'm first!"

Before he could react, I kissed him, putting as much passion and promise as was humanly possible into it. I don't know how long it lasted, somewhere between the blink of an eye and eternity, but when I finally had to breathe, the room was quiet. My heaving chest was really making my girls dance, and the men were noticing.

I held up the microphone. "That was a girlfriend kiss, so don't expect quite the same passion from him. The line will start out in the foyer in just a few moments."

He was mobbed and practically dragged off the bandstand. He gave me a withering look as he passed me, and I blew him a kiss and then stuck my tongue out.

My little stunt bit me in the butt. Someone had to take the money and I got elected. I found out there were three hundred eighty women at the ball, and every one of them got a kiss, most two or three. Ms. Cougar went through the line five times. Finally, it was over, just as the band took another break.

We sat back down, and I asked how he felt.

"Like I need industrial-grade lip balm, a gallon of mouthwash, and a car buffer run over my teeth. How much did that little stunt make for the charities?"

"Not sure, but over six thousand, at least."

I was wrong, it was just over eighty-nine hundred.

He was grumbling and I was laughing at him. "Serves you right. If you had danced more with me, I wouldn't have done it."

He was smiling like he just discovered he was fresh fruit and the entire female population of the world had just sworn off refined sugars. I really didn't like that smile.

"What?" I said, challengingly.

"Just thinking, there's another old saying that covers this situation."

I would have exploded if I hadn't asked. "And what, pray tell, would that expression be?"

He leaned in, nibbled my ear, and I was distracted enough for it not to process what he'd whispered until he had dragged me up on stage. "Payback's a bitch."

It was his turn to hold the microphone. "Ladies, thank you for that fun and inspired way to raise money. My lovely companion and I were talking and realized we had rudely excluded half our companions. In the interest of fairness and more money for the causes, Miss Susan Johnson has graciously agreed to do the same. Now, boys, she's with me tonight, so I don't want ungentlemanly behavior."

"That being said, kisses from this beautiful Spanish dancer will commence in ten minutes, at the same terms. But first..."

He snapped a twenty for everyone to see, dipped me until I was almost horizontal, and kissed me hard, twirling his tongue sensually, before breaking and nibbling down my neck.

I was glowing as I was led off the stage by Betty and Martha. Eric blew me a kiss and stuck his tongue out just before I passed through the doors.

I thought I did well. An hour later Betty told me it had to be over ten thousand.

"How do you feel now?" he asked, all innocence and smiles.

"Bruised and mauled. I thought I was kissing men, not fighting a group of octopi. I was about to ask for handcuffs to keep their hands off me."

Betty made us go on stage and share another kiss as the totals were announced. Once again I was light-headed before the finish.

We made the papers, the social and business sections. I was dipped, my girls proudly on display, my face partially obscured by his long hair.

I'd like to say we went back to my place and I ripped his wig off while we made mad passionate love, but the drinks started flowing and I ended up smashed. Glimpses of me fondling his massive arms and chest, kissing him repeatedly, him carrying me into my apartment and onto my bed flitted through my brain as I nursed my hangover the next afternoon.

I woke to my bodice ripped almost in two, my strapless bra nowhere to be found, and when I staggered to the bathroom I discovered I had lost my panties.

I was pretty sure nothing had happened, it just didn't feel like it. Still...

He called about four, his cheery voice asking how I was.

"I feel worse than awful. What happened?"

"Well, after the kissing incidents, we made peace and spent the remainder of the evening dancing. I lost count of how much champagne you consumed, but there were three empty bottles and one half-empty when we left. Betty doesn't drink, but her husband made up for it. I ended up carrying her husband to the car. I only had a few, widely spaced over the evening. Driving, you know."

I groaned. "No wonder my head hurts. I didn't do anything really stupid, did I?"

There was silence for just a second. "Well, there was one tiny little incident. Veronica [Ms. Cougar] tried to cut in once too often and you told her if she came close to me again you'd rip those fake tits out and beat her to death with them."

"Oh God! What did she do?"

He was almost laughing now. "She took one look into your eyes and ran like hell."

There were about thirty seconds of silence before I spoke again. "Um, Eric, when I woke up this morning my top was ripped in two and my underwear was missing. Did we... you know... maybe... make love?"

He sounded really hurt. "You don't remember? And I thought it was special. Thought you really meant it when you said you loved me. I guess I just didn't make much of an impression on you."

"ERIC! Say I didn't really mention love. Oh God! You must think I'm a real slut."

"Susan, please. How could I think that about the future mother of my children? Could we maybe negotiate the number? Six is a bit more than I had in mind."

I was on the edge of tears. I could hear his voice choking. What had I done? I was trying to find the right words to say when the choking turned into snickers, and the snickers turned into roaring laughter.

"Gotcha! None of what I said was true except for the amount of alcohol you consumed and what you said to Veronica. You took your underwear off in the car, to tease me. I found your bra this morning under the seat, but not the panties. Then again, you were holding them out the window trying to twirl them. I carried you into your apartment, and after several very nice kisses, you insisted I rip your blouse. When I wouldn't you tried to do it yourself. I finally relented and was going to tear it just a little. Sorry, I thought it was much stouter material."

"When I ripped it you kissed me again, then stepped back and cupped your breasts and shook them at me. Very nice breasts, I have to add. Then you said,

"Get ready lover, I'm going to rock your world..."

"Oh no! What did I do then?"

"Your eyes rolled back into your head and you passed out cold. I stayed with you for a little while, got a glass of water and some aspirin out of your medicine chest and put it on your nightstand, covered you up, and went home."

I was mortified. Finally, I started apologizing. He cut me off.

"Don't! I had one of the best times of my life last night. Had a great meal with a beautiful woman. Got kissed by 381 women and one man about nine hundred times. Danced the night away. Almost got lucky. I could never thank you enough. Think of me first if you want to do something like that again."

I started to apologize again when it hit me. Did he say beautiful? I suddenly felt worlds better.

"Well, actually, Eric, our Christmas party is in seven weeks, and I don't have a date yet. I probably won't get as wild in front of my bosses, but that means the night might end up better for it. Would you take me?"

Suddenly I felt frost over the phone line. "I'm sorry, Susan, I'm busy that weekend. Perhaps we can do something another time. I have to go now, I was just checking to see if you survived last night. Goodbye, Susan."

I stared at my phone, wondering what just happened.

*****

Betty helped me solve the dilemma the next day.

"I'm going to give you a history lesson on one Eric Summers. He loved your stupid cousin, deeply. It's the only way he knows. He would have done anything for her. She knew, the bitch, and took advantage of it.

"Things were already getting tense, I'm almost positive she had already started her affair when he lost his job. There was really nothing else out there, so he assessed his options.

"He had his family farm, owned with his brother, almost forty acres. An avid gardener since a child, he did research, went to some small acreage seminars, and decided to try farming on a small scale, to see if it was profitable. His brother was happy to sell him his half of the farm, as long as it remained in the family.