Chapter 9 #2
“Well, what does it say?” Henrietta persists.
“They’re from Dorian,” I say, tucking the card into the back pocket of my jeans.
“Well, of course they’re from that delectable, sexy as fuck, gangster,” she replies. “Aren’t you going to see what’s in the gift bag?”
“Gangster?”
I can feel Elizabeth’s eyes boring into the side of my face, and I grimace. “Ignore Henrietta. He’s not a gangster. She just has an infatuation with them. I blame it on the books she reads.”
“First, you read those books too, and second, he’s definitely a dangerous man, especially when it comes to Edie’s vagina.
Isn’t that right, Edie? I wish Logan was the same, only he seems to be more concerned for my safety than filling me up with his cock—” Henrietta chokes back a laugh when I glare at her.
“Wait, who’s Logan? And what’s all this talk about gangsters?
Please don’t tell me you’ve got involved with another morally corrupt arsehole, because if you have, Edie, I’m going to have to stage an intervention,” Elizabeth says, looking between us both as though we’ve lost her minds. Which, to be fair, we probably have.
“Okay. Look. Just calm down. There’s no intervention needed because one, I’m your older sister by three years and more than capable of making my own decisions, and two, Dorian hasn’t filled anything up with his cock, least of all my vagina.”
“More’s the pity,” Henrietta says, winking at me. “But please tell me you’ve had another part of his anatomy inside your vagina.” She wiggles her fingers knowingly and I feel heat spreading up from my neck and across my face.
“Jesus Christ, Henrietta, enough of the dirty talk. There are little ears listening next door,” I say, throwing up my hands in dismay.
Elizabeth waves her hand towards the room where Nina is currently singing along to some random cartoon. “Nina can’t hear anything. Spill it, sis.”
“Oh, so now you want all the details, sis?” I retort, rolling my eyes so hard I swear I can see into the back of my head. “You’ve changed your tune. A minute ago, you were pissed Nina caught me kissing Dorian, and now you want all the details.”
“A minute ago, I was in ‘protective mum mode’. Now I’m in ‘intrigued younger sister’ mode. So, fess up.”
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“Damn right she’s not. Besides, you haven’t told me all the juicy details, and I’ve been dying to know,” Henrietta pipes up. So much for being my best friend. I’m not sure I like being ganged up on.
“What about you and Logan? What happened after we left the other night? I figured you’d spent the weekend with him since I haven’t heard from you in two whole days,” I accuse, trying to deflect.
“I’ll tell you what happened, which isn’t much, honestly. But first, let us see what’s in that gift bag.”
“Fine,” I snap, then grab the gift bag.
Inside are several items. The first is a square black box.
I open it up and pull out a small portable fan, the ones you can hold in your hand.
It’s not one of those cheap plastic ones either.
It’s a sleek, matte silver fan, made of the lightest metal.
Engraved in the handle are the words: ‘To keep my hot woman cool.’
I smother a smile. That’s surprisingly thoughtful.
Elizabeth pulls a face, unimpressed. “He bought you a fan?”
“Hot flashes,” Henrietta and I say in unison.
“What else is in there?” Henrietta asks, clapping her hands in delight as I slip the fan back into its box and rest it on the counter.
Next I pull out one of those lavender filled eye masks, the ones that supposedly help with sleep. I lift it to my nose, breathing in. It smells heavenly.
“Oooh, that should help a little with your insomnia,” Henrietta says, taking it from me and sniffing it.
“Insomnia?” Elizabeth questions.
“Catch up, Beth. Your sister is in full-blown perimenopause. Sleep is hard to come by these days.”
Elizabeth pulls a face. “Oh, of course. Sorry.”
Reaching inside the bag, I pull out several sheet face masks, the ones embedded with gold leaf that I’ve always walked past in Sephora because they’re too expensive for someone on a teacher’s salary. I lay them on the table, glaring at Henrietta when she tries to sneak one into her bag.
“What? You’ve got like eight of them, and these cost a small fortune.”
“Fine. Take it. But the rest are mine.” I’m not sure if I should be offended or grateful, but deciding that this is Dorian being thoughtful, I push my insecurities about our age difference to one side.
“Is there anything else?”
I pull out a bottle of vitamins, specifically made for women at my time of life. A little note is tied around it with a ribbon. ‘To keep your strength up on account of all the deviant things I intend to do to you.’
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” Henrietta says, when I hand her the bottle. Elizabeth snatches it from her hold and mutters something under her breath.
“There’s something else,” I say, folding my fingers around another sleek, black, rectangular box nestled in the bottom of the bag. I pull it out, sliding out the internal tray. The second my eyes land on the item resting inside, I gasp.
No. He did not.
Inside is a beautifully detailed dildo that, from my recollection, is a replica of Dorian’s dick, piercings and all. Resting on top is a small handwritten card that says, ‘For when I’m not available. Orgasms are great for easing headaches.’
“What is it?” Henrietta asks, looking from me to the box and back again.
I quickly slide the tray back into the box, my cheeks heating like an oven on full blast.
Henrietta, ever the observant one, grins inanely. “Please tell me he brought you a sex toy.”
“No way,” Elizabeth chokes out, her eyes widening comically.
I nod, completely lost for words.
Henrietta whistles, then bursts out laughing. “That man is a keeper.”
“That’s just perverted,” Elizabeth remarks, shaking her head with disgust. After a moment of stunned silence, Elizabeth waves her hand at me. “Well, this is all very eye-opening, but you were about to tell us about Dorian…”
I nod my head. “Yes, right. Back to that,” I say, then proceed to tell them both everything, starting with my first encounter with Dorian, right up until what happened the other night. By the time I’ve finished, they’re both staring at me, eyes wide and mouths open.
“You’ll catch flies,” I comment.
“Well, damn,” Henrietta whistles. “That’s hot.”
“You think Dorian dismissing me after making me come in the front seat of his car is hot?”
“Well, not that part. That was kind of douchebag behaviour…” she says, flicking her gaze to the flowers. “But at least he sent you flowers, and a dildo to apologise. He did apologise, right?”
“Yes. He did,” I say, huffing out a breath.
“Well, that’s certainly better than ninety-nine point nine percent of men. I’ll give him that much,” Elizabeth concedes. “Then again, it’s pretty poor behavior to react like he did over a little blood if you ask me. Even if he did, you know, make you…”
“Come? You can say the word, Elizabeth. You won’t suddenly burn up in flames,” Henrietta remarks, smirking.
“It was so humiliating,” I mumble.
Henrietta reaches over the kitchen island and pats my hand. “Don’t you dare feel bad about what happens naturally. Besides, Dorian doesn’t strike me as the type of man who’d let a little blood put him off. I’m sure that wasn’t the reason he left so abruptly.”
Elizabeth scoffs.
“I know you don’t like men, Beth, but sometimes they’re worth getting to know if only to scratch that itch. We all deserve an orgasm or five-hundred,” Henrietta says. “Dorian certainly seems to think so too,” she adds, eying the rectangular box. I slap her hand when she tries to reach for it.
“I don’t dislike men. I’ve just yet to meet one that isn’t a disappointing prick,” Elizabeth says.
“And after what Edie just told us,” Henrietta smirks. “I know Dorian doesn’t have a disappointing prick.”