Prelude to Love--Richard/Lainey 02

"He is not." Miranda flushes with pleasure, knowing her friend is right.

"He is," Lainey insists. "Anyone can see he's in love with you. I saw the way you were hanging onto him at the movie," she says slyly.

"It was scary. You know I don't like scary movies."

"Whatever, Miranda. I'll see you tomorrow. I've a sex god to text."

******

(Richard)

His phone buzzes with a text and he pulls it out of his pocket, glances at it. He's beginning to regret giving that chick his number. This is the third text in as many days.

Hey, Richard! It's Lainey (again)! Just wanted to say 'hi' and ask if you've ever tried that little coffee shop on Palmer? Wanna meet?

She's certainly persistent. Her other texts were similar, peppy greeting followed by a casual invitation. He hadn't answered the others, and nearly blocks her number. Then he thinks about the coming weekend, the emptiness of it, and changes his mind.

Hi, Lainey-I have been to that coffee shop a few times. When would you like to meet? I can take my lunch anytime, just let me know.

Cheers! R

The reply comes, and he smiles a little at its swiftness. She seems awfully eager, which is a good thing. Why not get a little thing going with her? She's attractive, enthusiastic, and they have some things in common. He shuts down his computer and heads for the door, mind already on Lainey.

Janelle darts out of her office and falls into step with him, her heavily made up face twisted in anger. Millie watches, her eyes wide, mouth an 'O' of surprise.

"Why are you ignoring my messages, Richard?"

"Everyone's watching, Janelle," he tells her calmly, and it's true; some associates have even stood up from their chairs to get a better view. Janelle falters, glances around the office, her face coloring.

"It's not over, Richard," she hisses, and flounces back to her office. What a mess. But he knew it would be.

Lainey waves to him from a table near the window when he enters the sandwich shop. It makes him smile; he'd figured she'd be there first. He orders his usual (venti coffee, black) along with chicken salad on a bagel.

She watches him approach, bare legs tucked up beneath her chair, long red nails tapping her water glass. Her hair is a blonde wave flowing down her back. He remembers how it felt in his fingers, silky soft, like her skin.

"Hi," he says, sitting down. She's quite pretty, if ordinary. Blonde and blue-eyed, nothing special there. Except for the way she's looking at him, like she wants to eat him up.

"Hi, Richard. How's your day been going?"

"Better now," he says, and her eyes brighten. Anything would be better than staying in the office and having Janelle shooting daggers at him.

"I hope I wasn't too annoying, texting so much. I don't usually do that--but Miranda told me I should."

"She did, huh?" The chicken salad is good, just the way he likes it with lots of stuff in it, kind of spicy. Miranda. He wonders if he can manufacture a problem with his phone so he can see her again. Too bad Chris got there first. Well, he's not opposed to sloppy seconds if the opportunity arises.

"Yep. She said you were probably busy and that's why you hadn't called me yet." The words are light, but there's nothing light in the way she looks at him, waiting for him to speak.

He's got two choices here: blow her off or turn this into something more. His feelings for her are ambivalent; she's sexy and smart, knows what she wants. He's just not sure he's ready to get involved with someone so soon after the thing with Janelle. But if he did, it would be a way to show her he's serious about breaking it off.

"Miranda's a smart woman," he says, and is rewarded with Lainey's brilliant smile. "Persistence is a trait I admire."

Her cheeks flush with pleasure and he feels her foot touch his leg. "I was a little worried I was being a pest."

"Nah. No worries." She smiles, sucks in a big breath which makes her chest rise, which he can't help looking at, and she giggles.

They chat now about the housing market, about annoying clients, and Richard decides he likes her laugh, likes the long fingernails that will soon be scratching along his skin.

"So, are you busy tonight?" Lainey asks, white teeth biting her red lip.

"No. What did you have in mind?"

"I think you know," she says coyly, and giggles when he grins. "I guess the question is where, yes? Where do you live?"

"I'd love to get to know you better, " he says, gathering up his trash. "We could grab something to eat first." Her eyes widen in surprise before her smile lights up her entire face. He holds the door for her on the way out, kisses her cheek as they separate.

******

(Chris)

"Hey, Miranda," I say into my phone, conscious of Richard's amused smile. I get up and walk over to the window. "How's it going?"

"Not good."

"What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Michael. He just left--for a strip club. Is...is he cheating on me, Chris? Is there someone else?"

I blow my breath out in a rush. It worked. "I don't think we should talk about this over the phone, Miranda," I say, shooting a glance at Richard, who's listening very intently.

"Okay. Can you--can you come over? I really don't want to be alone."

Excitement rushes through my body, and I give my friend a thumbs up. "Sure. I'll see you in a bit."

"You are such a dog," Richard grumbles, pulling his cigarettes out. "What happened? Did she finally realize her boyfriend's a jackhole?"

I laugh a little. "She just asked me if he's cheating on her."

"No shit? Is that why you're grinning? What did you do, Chris?"

"Well, I may have exaggerated a little when I told him about seeing a movie with her. You know, made it seem like we had something going on." I shrug. "Told him we'd been texting, that kind of thing. You know. Plus, I introduced him to that dancer, Bambi, at Babydolls. The one with the big tits, remember?"

Richard stares at me in amazement. "Wow. And here I thought I was the devious one."

My cheeks heat a little. "I want her for myself. I know you can understand that."

"I can," he says slowly, tapping his cigarette on his knee. "It just seems like building on a lie. If you're looking for a relationship with her, I'm not sure this is the way to do it."

This pisses me off. "It's not the same as what Isobel did to you, Richard." Yeah, I went there, invoked She Who Shall Not Be Named. Instead of blowing up, he looks at me instead, brow furrowed.

"Yeah, it is. But I'm not going to argue with you." He gets up, unlit cigarette hanging from his lip. "You've already got your mind made up."

"Fuck your judgmental attitude, Richard."

He stops, his hand on the slider, then slowly turns back to face me. His expression is ugly. "You're goddamn right I'm judging you. You're starting something with her on false pretenses and I guarantee it's going to come back to bite you in the ass."

"Give me a break. As if you've never done the same to a woman you wanted to sleep with."

"Yeah, when I was sixteen, Chris. Fuck! Miranda doesn't deserve this." Richard shoves open the slider and goes out on the balcony.

He wants her for himself, I suddenly realize, recalling the way he'd stared at her at the cookout, even at the movie theater he'd looked at her a little too often, a little too long. Despite having that beautiful friend of Miranda's on his arm, dying to jump into his bed.

Fine. Whatthefuckever. I've got better things to do, like Miranda.

***

(Miranda)

She's beginning to have doubts. She doesn't really know this guy, and she's going to be alone with him. What if--no. Quickly, she grabs her phone and texts Lainey.

Chris is coming over. I'm a little nervous because I don't know him. Do you want to come over? Maybe bring Richard?

Not that she wants Richard in her home but having Lainey here would make her feel safer. Luckily, her friend comes to her rescue.

We'll be over in a few. Party time!

Relieved, Miranda quickly sets out wine glasses and puts together a tray of crackers and cheese and sets them on the coffee table in the living room.

Chris arrives soon after, wine in hand. He looks hot, muscular arms and chest prominent in his tight shirt, blue jeans and a friendly smile. Now she feels silly for not trusting him, because of course he's a nice guy, protective, even.

"Hi," he says, leaning over and kissing her cheek. Okay, a little much, but she can't deny the little thrill of having his mouth so close to hers. And he smells good.

"Come in, Chris. Thank you so much for this. Really."

"Of course," he says, handing me a bouquet of flowers. "You sounded really upset, so I wanted to cheer you up."

"Oh, they're beautiful," she gushes, the bright pink blooms making her tear up.

"What's the matter? Are you allergic or something?"

"No, I just--it's been a long time since anyone gave me flowers, that's all."

His face takes on a smug look--an interesting expression she doesn't expect. She goes into the kitchen for a vase, acutely aware of his presence behind her. She crouches down to look in the cabinet beneath the sink, finds a vase and stands back up.

His face is right there, and she has barely any time to wonder why he's so close, because then his mouth comes down on hers, his hands sliding around her waist, pulling her against him.

The vase slips from her hand to shatter on the tiles.

"Oh, my god," she bursts out, pushing him away. "Why did you do that?"

"I wanted to," he says, surprised.

"Well, maybe I didn't want to." Her shoes crunch glass when she goes over to the pantry for the broom and dustpan. Flustered, she can barely look at him, suddenly glad she'd asked Lainey to come over.

"I'm sorry," Chris stutters, taking the dustpan from her. "I thought you wanted me to do that."

Miranda gives him a stony look. "I didn't." The doorbell rings then, and a look of annoyance flashes across his face.

"Are you expecting anyone?"

"Yes, I am. Please go let them in." She continues to sweep, resolutely not looking at him. She can't believe he did that. It seems so unlike him. Disturbing, even. He'd grabbed her like--like he owned her. Where did the shy and friendly guy go?

"Wow, what happened in here?" Lainey's welcome voice makes her nearly cry in relief. "Oh, my god, Miranda. What's wrong?" She sets two plastic bags on the counter and then hurries over to put her arm around Miranda.

"He just--he just grabbed me and kissed me, like it was his right," she says, tears filling her eyes.

"You want me to have Richard make him leave?"

Miranda takes a deep breath, banishes the tears. She's stronger than this. "No. They're friends, he wouldn't do that. Anyway, you're here now, and I can do this. He just caught me a little off guard, that's all." Yes, that's it. Just a misunderstanding.

Lainey frowns but says nothing. She helps her friend finish cleaning up the glass, then gestures at the bouquet resting on the granite counter. "What about those? You got another vase somewhere?"

Miranda looks at the blooms, any excitement they generated gone. "No. Leave them."

"They'll wilt unless you get them in water."

"I don't care. I need a drink."

"You're in luck, then. Richard tells me he makes a wonderful margarita if we can use your blender."

Not quite ready to face Chris, Miranda digs out the blender while Lainey chats about her day. What a great friend she is, Miranda thinks, watching her bustle around getting everything ready for the drinks.

"You're a great friend. Thank you."

Lainey grins. "I know. And you're welcome." They both laugh as the two men come into the kitchen.

"Hello, ladies," Richard greets. "Ready for the best margarita you've ever tasted?" He kisses Lainey's lips, but he's looking at Miranda, his blue eyes dark and hungry. Lainey twines her arms around his neck, pressing herself against him. His hands slide down from her waist to cup her buttocks briefly before she giggles and twists out of his grasp.

Chris hasn't said anything yet, just leans against the counter, arms folded across his chest while Richard provides a running commentary about his drink-making skills.

"Be careful, ladies," he warns, pouring in the booze. "Clothing has been known to fall off after a few of these." He laughs, turns on the blender, blue eyes sparkling with mischief. Lainey's face is bright and happy, and it makes Miranda smile to see it. If only it wasn't Richard. So tacky of him to put his hands all over Lainey like they're alone.

"Are you going to be okay?" Lainey asks in her ear. "Seriously, if you want him to leave--"

"No, I'm okay. I'll give him another chance. But thank you." Taking a deep breath, she goes over to stand beside Chris. He lowers his arms, heaves a sigh.

"Look, I'm sorry for being so pushy. I just--I've wanted to do that since we met."

"It's fine," she says, not really meaning it. "You just startled me, that's all."

She smiles at him, and he returns it, looking relieved. Drinks finished, they carry their glasses out to the living room and sit.

Miranda and Chris take the couch, while Richard pulls Lainey down onto his lap in the overstuffed chair. Michael's chair. Miranda takes a big drink, the coldness making her head hurt.

"Where's the remote?" Chris wants to know, and when he finds it, clicks on the huge flat screen Michael bought last Black Friday. It had been a source of contention between them, Miranda wondering why he needed a new, bigger tv when the one they already had was fine.

"Because I want it," Michael told her, whipping out his credit card.

"How about some porn," Richard suggests, smirking. Lainey rolls her eyes at Miranda. Chris laughs, chooses a dumb slasher flick, and turns off the lamps. In the light from the television his eyes seem to glow.

Richard and Lainey start kissing even before the opening credits. It's a little awkward sitting on the couch beside Chris while they do that. She's not sure about him, still a little leery of what happened in the kitchen.

"Damn. Maybe you two need to go find a room or something?" Chris finishes his drink, pours another from the rapidly emptying pitcher. Some of the margarita sloshes down the side of his glass to spread across the mahogany coffee table Michael bought.

"I think we're okay right here," Richard says. "Lainey needs another one, though. She's got too many clothes on." She giggles, accepts the dripping glass from Chris, who watches, grinning, while she tries to drink. It's too full, and she gasps as the cold slush drips down the front of her, wetting her low-cut top.

"I spilled it all over myself, Richard. Lemme find a towel or something." Her voice slurs a bit as she struggles to rise.

"Let me," he says, getting up and kneeling in front of her. He kisses her lips, then her chin, then her throat. Lainey shivers, closes her eyes as he moves lower, now between her breasts. He pauses to unbutton her top, exposing her black lacy bra. "I think you spilled some right here, Lainey." Reaching around, he unfastens her bra and pushes it out of the way, then begins to lick her bare breasts, sucking on her nipples, making Lainey moan and writhe beneath him.

"I can't believe this," Miranda mutters, then catches a glimpse of Chris's face: he's watching the spectacle, his eyes dark with lust. He doesn't seem surprised or shocked. Not like Miranda; she's never been in this situation ever before and is not certain what to think.

Lainey moans again as Richard's hands slide up and down her white thighs and then, to Miranda's absolute shock, he slides all the way down to the floor and thrusts his face beneath her skirt. "Oh, my god," Lainey bursts out, grabbing his hair, her knees squeezing his head.

Miranda goggles at the display, turned on despite her disgust. Chris leans back on the couch, reaches over and puts his hand on her leg, his fingers kneading her flesh.

"Is this okay," he asks, eyes probing hers. 'This' being a tentative kiss, very different from the one he offered in the kitchen. She touches his cheek, lets the kiss deepen, leans into him and now when she feels his hands on her waist, she welcomes it, her fingers digging into his shoulders. He slides a hand up, fingertips brushing her breast, setting her on fire. And yet...she is unsure. Does she want to do this? Just because Michael's cheating, does that make it right for her?

"Look at them," he says in her ear. "So fucking hot." The laughter in his voice makes her glance over and she can't believe what she's seeing.

They're having sex, right out in the open! In her house! The light from the television illuminates the two of them in the overstuffed chair. Lainey straddles Richard, his hands on her hips, moving her up and down, her skirt rucked up around her waist. He notices Miranda watching and licks his lips, his blue eyes at half-mast. Unable to tear her eyes away, a surge of pleasure begins low in her belly.

Chris's hand cups her breast, and she stiffens. "I can't do this in front of them," she murmurs, and feels his smile against her mouth.

"Sure you can," he whispers, that hand squeezing, sliding around to unfasten her bra. Her head swirls from the booze, his kisses, the sensations his hands are sending through her body, but the thought of doing anything in front of Richard shuts everything off.

"No. Let's go upstairs," she says, pulling away. "Chris, let's go upstairs." Obviously disappointed, Chris nods and she leads him out of the living room and up to her bedroom.

***

(Chris)

"What does she look like?" Miranda's soft voice intrudes upon my thoughts, and I stretch in the sheets, satisfaction making my limbs heavy.

"Who?" I lightly run my fingers along her arm, desire stirring again. She was as amazing as I'd imagined, giving and taking--perfect.

"The woman Michael's sleeping with."

I blow my breath out noisily. "You really don't want me to answer that."

"I do," she insists, shoving away my questing hands. Shit.

"She's just a whore using him for his money," I say, and she believes me, is even a little relieved. "You're much prettier than she is."

"Then why? Why is he doing this? I thought--I thought he loved me."

How did I get myself into this? I'm lying with her in another man's bed, have just made love to that man's girlfriend, and now I'm having a conversation about why he's cheating on her. Oh, the irony. Richard will laugh his ass off when I tell him.

"I don't know," I tell her. "I just know that I love you." Her face brightens and she moves into my arms, all thoughts of cheating left behind.

Later, I go downstairs and exchange a grin with my best friend when I see the drunk woman sprawled across his lap. His hand is on her bare stomach, her breasts barely covered by her unbuttoned top. Her bra is on the floor, along with the scrap of her panties. Her navy-blue skirt is pretty much covering nothing, and when she notices me looking, she opens her legs wider.

"Like what you see?" she slurs, and Richard pushes her legs back together, smiling a little.

"No more of that, Lainey," he tells her, and she grabs at his crotch, and for a minute I think there will be another show, but Richard gently grasps her wrist and brings her hand up to his mouth, kisses her fingers.

"Another time, darling," he tells her, and she pouts. He lays Lainey carefully on the couch and pulls her skirt down, making sure she's not exposed.

"Bedtime for drunk young ladies," he says, producing an ugly afghan from somewhere, a vivid mess of purples and greens. He covers her with it, pulling it up to her chin. "Good night, dear," he says, kissing her cheek. Lainey mumbles a few words, then is out.

The coffee table is a mess of glasses and spilled booze, and I think maybe we should clean up.

"No, let Michael see the mess and wonder," Richard says, and he's right. Miranda will have to explain, but I'm not worried. It will only work in my favor.