14
Josie
Renna and Mel are super excited about the outdoor fundraiser this evening, but I'm not convinced this is going to work. The Delmont Cultural Center has a big event every spring to bring in new donors and volunteers. I know Mel and Tilly have both volunteered with different programs there since it opened two years ago.
Renna visited the local gymnastics club earlier this afternoon to scope out talent for the university—one of her friends owns the place. She let the kids there know she'll be at the fundraiser event tonight. She says that'll be enough.
I'm picking Florence up from her house at seven.
But when she answers the door, I step back in shock.
She's dressed to the nines in a gorgeous crimson evening gown.
"You like it?" she asks, slowly turning around for me to see the low cut in the back.
I raise an eyebrow. "It's stunning," I say drily, "but it's not exactly appropriate for the evening. I look down at my own gray slacks and blue blouse, then back at her. "Let's see what you've got in your closet. We've got to get you out of this."
She chuckles. "I didn't expect to hear that from you until we got home later." She shakes her head and leads me to her room. Her walk-in closet is huge—it must be half the size of my bedroom. "I still need to look the part of consummate professional," she reminds me.
"You're not there in an official capacity. Remember, this is supposed to be a casual outing for us to support the local community. We don't want everyone's attention on us."
She turns around and stares into my eyes. "The whole purpose of this," she steps toward me, backing me against the wall, "is for people to notice us."
I rest my hands on her hips to keep her from crashing into me. "Yes, Florence. But the way you dress for an event like this is not the same way you dress for an event like your charity gala. You can dress up and stand out in a good way without going over the top. This—" My hands slide up her back, fingernails lightly grazing her bare skin. "This will make you stand out in the wrong way."
She steps closer, leaning her body against mine. Her fingers are warm as she caresses my cheek. "You shouldn't touch me like that if you're not going to do something about it," she whispers.
"You like that, do you?" I look into her hungry eyes. I could fall for those eyes if I let myself. I drop my hands to her ass and yank her body hard against mine. "What do you want me to do?" I ask, sliding my thigh between her legs and pressing into her. I rake my nails up her thigh.
"Josie," she growls, her breath coming faster. She rolls her hips against me hard, desperate.
My nails trace along her panty line. "Tell me what you want, Florence." I lick my bottom lip, wondering for the first time what she tastes like.
Her mouth is suddenly on mine, hungry and bruising. "You," she growls against my mouth. "Please."
I pause just long enough to meet her eyes. "Are you sure?"
"Yes." She pulls the dress over her head, standing in front of me in nothing but a black lace bra and panties.
God.
She's stunning.
The lace is delicate and beautiful, and I take her round breasts in my hands. They're a perfect fit. I lean over, biting roughly through the thin fabric.
"Josie, I want you." She grabs my head, fingers tangling in my hair. "Fuck," she moans as my mouth wraps around her nipple.
"Florence, are you still home?" Marin's voice rings through the open bedroom door. "I thought Josie was picking you up half an hour ago."
Florence closes her eyes. "I'm going to kill her," she mutters.
"We're in the closet," I call. "Florence needed to change, and we're… deciding… on what she's going to wear."
The door swings open. Marin glances at us—Florence half naked, her dress on the floor, my mussed hair—and shakes her head with a chuckle. "I'm glad you answered, or I might've had a heart attack." She hands me three business suits, skirts and all, hanging in their dry cleaner bags. "Be a dear and hang those up for me. I'll leave you to finish."
"Oh. My. Fucking. God." Florence bends down to pick her dress up off the ground and turns away from me. Her hands shake as she fumbles with the hanger.
"Hey." I squeeze her shoulder reassuringly. "Do you want to wear a dress or pants?"
"Dress," she answers, taking a shaky breath.
I scan her closet, honing in on the more casual dresses. This woman has a lot of clothes. "This." I spot a velvet burgundy dress. "Casual, chic—and it'll complement me perfectly." I pull it off the hanger and hold it up against her flushed skin.
"You mean you'll complement me," she teases, finding herself again.
I unzip the back of the dress and pass it to her. "Either way, we'll look good together."
"That we will," she says, slipping it over her head. "Now zip me up so we can get out of here."
She's quiet in the car on the way to the fundraiser—unusually so.
When I pull into the parking area, I turn to look at her. "Are you okay?"
She blinks rapidly. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"
I raise an eyebrow in surprise. "Because I almost fucked you up against the wall of your closet, and you've been acting like a teenager who got caught in the backset of the car."
She blushes. It's an adorable look on her. "I don't normally lose control of myself like that. That's all. I'm sorry."
I fight back a laugh. "You didn't hear me complaining." I study her for a second. "Florence. It's okay. Don't get awkward about this." I cup her cheek, brushing my thumb softly against it. "When we get out of this car, we're a couple. When we get home later, we can talk about your feelings. I promise. But I also promise that we're okay." I trace her bottom lip with my thumb. "Now will you kiss me?"
"Do you want me to?" she whispers.
"I do." I want her to do more than that. It's been so long since I've touched someone who made me feel this alive. I was actually disappointed the other day when she said she needs an emotional attachment.
She cups my face and kisses me gently. "Let's go find Renna and make this thing public."
I text Mel to let her know we've arrived. She responds right away; she and Renna are on the north side of the grounds, where Renna's signing autographs for the fundraiser. She has a stack of photos and books from her championship season.
"How did she organize this so fast?" Florence asks me, tentatively taking my hand as we head that way.
"She keeps boxes of photos and books at home. She always pushes for free copies when she signs new contracts. Or rather, her agent does."
As we round the corner, a big bulky guy steps in front of us. "Ladies. You'll have to get in line with everyone else."
I blink. "Oh, we're not here for autographs. We're here with Renna and Dr. Hardy—Mel."
He frowns, but before he can respond, Florence lights up. "Fabio!" She turns to me. "He's on my security detail when I go to public events."
"Ma'am?" He still looks uncertain.
"Florence. Pietra." She straightens her posture.
"Oh. Of course, ma'am. I didn't recognize you in street clothes."
"This is my fiancée, Fabio. Josie Mueller. She teaches brain surgeons at the medical school."
"Neurology," I correct her.
"Which is what brain surgeons study," she says pointedly, taking me by the elbow. "Renna and Mel are expecting us. Go verify. We'll wait here."
Before he has a chance to, though, Mel is already coming over. "It's fine, Fredrick. They're with us." She gives him an exasperated look. "I am not calling you Fabio."
He grunts in amusement. "Doctor." He motions for us to pass.
Renna jumps up to give us quick hugs before turning to the line of about twenty girls, most with a friend and a parent or two in tow. "You've met my soon-to-be wife, Mel. These are our friends Josie—Dr. Mueller—and Florence Pietra. Ms. Pietra runs the University Hospital. If any of you are interested in business, you should talk to her. If you're interested in neurology or becoming a doctor, talk to Dr. Mueller."
A little girl near the front frowns. "What's nurlogy?"
Renna grins and taps her temple. "Do you know what's inside your head?"
"Her head is empty," calls the girl next to her, a few years older than her.
"Is not! My brain is in there. That's what helps me think. It helps me remember my times tables, too. Too bad yours doesn't work as well as mine." She sticks her tongue out at her sister.
Renna laughs. "You're right. Your brain is in there. That's Dr. Mueller's specialty—the brain. That's called neurology."
A teenage girl, maybe fourteen, approaches us after getting her autograph. She looks shyly at Florence. "Are you really the boss of the whole hospital? My moms were talking about you at dinner the other night."
She nods. "I am. What did your moms say about me?"
The girl beams. "That you're really smart. And if you can be the boss of all the smartest people in Delmont, I can do anything I want, too."
Florence softens. "What do you want to do when you grow up?"
The girl drops her gaze to the ground.
"Hey." Florence gently places a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Tell me your biggest, wildest dreams."
The girl takes a breath. "I want to go to the Olympics. And I want to be like Serenity and compete as a Delmont Demon, and I want to be a cancer doctor for kids."
Florence nods. "If you work hard every day, I bet you'll be a Demon. Being a doctor is hard work, but if you decide to do it, nothing will stop you."
I crouch to her level. "Going to the Olympics is a really big dream. What's your name?"
"Denisse Hernandez."
"Well, Denisse… the Olympics might be the hardest part, but never stop trying," I tell her. "Even if you don't make it, you'll have incredible experiences along the way."
"Mom says it depends on if the GoAT retires. But even if I don't make the team, we can still go and watch it." She suddenly frowns at me. "If you teach doctors, does that mean you're a doctor, too?"
"Yes, I am a doctor."
"Are you a lesbian, too?" she asks.
I glance up at her mom, who just shrugs, amused.
"Yes, I am. And you know what? Lesbians can be doctors or gymnasts or business women. We can do whatever we want to. You can, too."
Mel leans in. "Renna's almost done with autographs. A bunch of the girls want photos. We're going to do group shots with all four of us."