Printer-friendly version

Blue Moon 9.5

by Donna Lamb

The security man did a very neat double-take as Jo trotted down the stairs from the upper floor calling, "Richard? Richard?" He looked up once from the panel full of wiring he'd had open, then looked back and up again.

Jo noticed the reaction and enjoyed it. Her fiery red wig seemed to glow, the waist-length curls swinging around her. Her beige, brown and cream ensemble set off her peach complexion against the red hair in a way that could only be called illuminating. She'd spent the last several minutes moving things she thought she might need into the absolutely perfect purse: brown and cream leather with a wide orange stripe that matched her wig. But she worried that Richard had got annoyed waiting for her.

"He's -- uh -- he's downstairs, Miss -- uh -- Miss Thierry?" The technician flashed her a nervous smile. Even though he did a lot of work in the homes of the beautiful people, something about Jo unnerved him. He felt so under dressed in his typical Southern California winter clothing, tan pants, white shirt and green windbreaker. It seemed like he should have worn a suit or at least have had a tie on.

Jo paused at the bottom of the stairs from the upper floor, "Thank you," she said smiling at him. Oh, my, he blushes. She rushed on down the next set of stairs, making the turn on the wood-floored landing as if she always trotted down steps wearing three-inch heels. She didn't giggle til she reached the lowest floor. He's old enough to be my dad, she thought.

Through the big windows, she saw Richard sitting in the Mustang. When he saw her, he got out and went to open the door for her, showing his dimples in a big smile. I guess he isn't mad, after all. Probably used to his girlfriends keeping him waiting. God, could he be any better looking? That thought almost stopped her.

Richard opened the door and stood aside, "Got everything?" he asked in a cheerful voice.

"Uh, huh?" she managed to say, trying not to think about kissing him.

"Uh, huh?" Richard grinned. "You don't sound so positive about it. Where are your glasses?" I should kiss her, he thought. Damn it, she's not Joel.

They paused for a moment in the door, their faces inches apart.

"In my p-p-purse," she whispered. Jo felt a wanting inside her completely outside Joel's experience. Even with her heels, Richard towered over her -- well, he always had -- but she'd never known that his masculine strength had a palpable force to it. If I touch him, we're going immediately back upstairs, she thought. Move, Jo, before you turn to jelly.

"Good," said Richard. What the hell were we talking about? How can she smell so damn good? How can she pick out something to wear like that after less than a day? If I kiss her, will we ever get to this appointment? "Where are your glasses?" Green eyes with golden sparkles, magic eyes.

"In m-my p-p-p-purse," she repeated.

After another moment, they both felt the need to breathe.

Richard stepped back, Jo stepped through the door and Richard closed it behind her then strode around the car to hold the already open right hand door. "We have to go, traffic is unpredictable this time of day."

She felt his eyes on her legs as she crossed the concrete apron, heels making a hollow tocking sound. He looked up into her face just before she would have felt annoyed at her legs getting all his attention. Something hot and bubbly burst inside her and ran down to her new female parts under the short skirt when she brushed his arm. "You're not m-mad about me taking so long?" she asked to distract her from her own sensations.

He laughed deep in his throat. If she looked any better, smelled any better, sounded any -- sexier, I would have choked to death on that laugh. "Nah. All girls take longer than they think they will."

She giggled, taking his hand to steady her as she seated herself in the car, as graceful as if she were dancing. His hand felt cool and rough against hers, hard and strong.

Her fingers are so soft, her hands so small, thought Richard. Jo's hands were well proportioned for a woman her height, longer than average, in fact, but slender.

They let their hands drop, not letting go but allowing gravity to pull them apart. Richard shut the door and raced around the car. Inside, Jo gulped in air and wondered if she might have inherited a weak heart with Melody's weak eyes. Richard took a deep breath before opening the door and sliding in.

"Where's your glasses?" he asked.

"In m-my p-p-purse," she answered.

Richard pulled the door closed and started the engine. He looked at her. She patted her purse. He backed up the long driveway so suddenly, she made a squeaking noise in alarm.

She tried to frown at him for making her squeak but he showed his dimples and she forgave him. How does he do that? she wondered.

I love it when she makes that noise and then pouts at me, thought Richard. He put the car in gear and away they went.