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“I also had Larry pick up two salads. This is their signature: blueberries, apples, spinach, and candied walnuts.” Then he reached into the basket. “Also, I had to get this cheese. It’s Humbolt Fog, made close to here.” She scrunched her nose as he pulled the cheese and a small box of crackers from the basket, setting it down on the thick, wooden board Larry had placed on the blanket as part of the setup. Jake’s face shifted as he noticed her expression. “Listen, just try a bite or two. It’s unlike any cheese you’ve ever tasted; it’s a unique goat cheese. Just a bite, Sweets,” he urged, assuring her as if coaxing a small child. Then he added, “It’s protein, and there’s a chicken curry salad plus fresh strawberries for dessert. Oh, and you have to try this,” he added, grabbing a brown box from the picnic basket and a fork. He cut something in the box, then said, “Fresh heirloom tomato and feta tart. The California heirloom tomatoes make this sumptuous.” He spoke as if he was tasting it.
Staring at the tart, the flaky crust with feta cheese and delicious-looking tomatoes, her mind went back to her mom’s garden where she’d grown Bumley Bounty tomatoes because they were easy, but she also had Red Figs and Blue Beauties. “My mom used to make tomato tarts like that, but with homemade focaccia bread and goat cheese, with these tomatoes called Blue Beauties because their skin is purplish-blue. They have a sort of sweet, almost fruity taste, superb.” She felt his eyes searching her face as she talked about her mom, and she stopped. No way would she open herself up to Jake’s follow-up questions, so she redirected, “I definitely need to try the tart.”
“What else did your mom grow in her garden?” Jake spoke tentatively as if he was opening a box carefully because the contents were unknown.
Ignoring his question, she moved onto all fours, her eyes on him. “I need a bite of that tart, now,” she said, crawling a couple of feet toward him, opening her mouth coyishly.
Instead of using his fork, he took the piece he’d cut off in his fingers. “Open wide, this is a big bite.” She tried to ignore the calorie counting that ticked in her head, to relish this moment, the breeze, the droplets of sun spilling through the branches, the wine working its magic on her nerves. Jake fed her the tart; the creamy feta, the buttery crust mixed with the acid from the tomatoes, slid on her tongue. Jake’s fingers grazed her bottom lip after he put the piece of tart in her mouth. She clamped her lips around it as she closed her eyes, savoring the taste that had exploded on her tongue and was disintegrating in her mouth. Then she felt the edge of a glass against her lip and heard him whisper, “Sip.” Her eyes sluggishly opened, taking in his knowing grin; she sipped from the glass he held, the crisp wine with the essence of grapefruit and green grass washing the remnants of the tart down her throat. “Good, huh?” he murmured, obviously pleased with himself.
She opened her mouth again. “I need another bite. More, please.” Still on all fours, she chuckled to herself when she noticed him working to keep his eyes on her face, not the cleavage she could feel bursting against the yellow cotton fabric. “That was so delicious.” With the second bite, her senses luxuriated in the taste once again. He insisted that she try the Humbolt Fog cheese on a cracker with a tab of fig spread. She knew she should object, but at this moment, everything felt too perfect, like there would be no consequences for all the pleasure she was soaking up. “Yes, okay,” she said, sitting back and moving closer to him, letting him feed her. “That’s so, so amazing. I think the closest cheese is maybe Valencay. Have you tried it, the pyramid-shaped one?”
“Yeah, I know it. I think I like this better.”
“Me too, maybe. I need to try them side by side,” she commented before draining her wine glass. He poured some of the cabernet into another glass and offered it to her. He reached into the basket, moving his hand around, and said, “There it is. I wanted to give you your birthday present somewhere that you’d never forget.” He handed her a small box.
She stared at it; the size of the box meant jewelry. She thought, please don’t be like all the other rich men who buy expensive gifts that are meaningless…gifts for their wives and girlfriends to appease them while they spent time with the women they paid to bed, and gifts for the escorts as a token of apology. Their message: I can’t really be with you, you know that, right? She wondered if she would ever escape those years, if she could build a future where her years as an escort would be forgotten, those experiences no longer her default reference.
“Go ahead, open it,” he said, tapping her arm, his voice animated like a kid who’d just painted a rock with a heart for his mom and couldn’t wait for her to see it because he knew she’d act like it was the best damn thing she’d ever received.
“Jake, I don’t want you to…”
“Just open it, I designed it, and I’ve been thinking about the perfect time to give it to you.”
She pulled the lid off the top and stared at the simple bracelet. “Oh,” she said, picking it up. “It’s so different.” She kept inspecting the bracelet, a band of gold and silver that looked to be hammered metal. The two bands were parallel, with half an inch between them, and then they intersected and twisted together until they reached the clasp where they formed a heart.
“Sooo, I thought this was us,” he explained, pointing at the origin of the silver strand and gold strand, “but then we intersected and…well, the heart is just a symbol of where we are going. I’m obviously not a jewelry designer, but one of Melissa’s best friends from high school started a jewelry company. She’s impressive,” he said, picking up the bracelet and opening the clasp.
She lifted her wrist and watched as he put it on her. “Jake, well, this is beautiful. I think it’s the best gift ever. I love that you designed it.” She touched his cheek. “This may be the best birthday I’ve ever had.” She always thought her twelfth birthday had been her best, the year her dad had surprised her with Snowbird, her first horse. That memory had become tainted, and now she saw it differently because of the life lived since then. Would this birthday celebration with Jake, on the edge of a vineyard, the sun shining above them, the faint breeze tickling her skin, wine buzzing through her, seem different one day, not like the idyllic dream that played out right now? She pushed that thought away; there was no way to know if the future would change how she saw this day, but for today, she wanted to soak it in, pretend it would last forever.
She dropped back on the blanket and asked, “How much time do we have here?” She spread her arms on the blanket, bending her knees, the yellow fabric of her skirt slipping down her thighs, folding around her pelvis. She watched his eyes travel to the apex between her legs, aware that he could see the yellow lace of her thong.
He cleared his throat. “We have time. What do you have in mind, Sweets?” He was straining to speak as if his mouth were filled with gravel.
“I’m not sure,” she cooed, her hand traveling to her knee; then her fingers crept down, then the inside of her leg toward her crotch, keeping her eyes fixed on him as he watched her hand. She dipped her finger under the lace, pressing it into her wet slit. “Mmm…” she whispered, eyes fixed on his open mouth. “Maybe I could be dessert,” she said, pushing herself up, sliding her moist finger from her pussy. “You said you liked cream.” She touched her wet finger to his lips, inserting it when he opened his mouth. She snatched it back, jumped up, and said, “But you’ll need to catch me first.”
His eyes sprung wide. “Not sure you want to play this game.” He stood, watching her back away. “I’m the fastest quarterback in the league. Haven’t you been listening to the sportscasters?”
“Not sure about that, Mr. Skyler. They reported just a few weeks ago that Noah Hill from Miami had more running yards than you.” She stepped back again, watching him approach her, with a wicked smirk on his face.
“Because…I’m trying to be a team player and not hog the ball.” He took two large steps forward. “Do you want a head start, you little gazelle, or just wanna…”
She turned, sprang forward, and ran around one of the massive trees, laughing, the wine making her head fuzzy. She giggled watching him sprint toward the tree, and before she could take another step, his hand gripped her elbow. “Got you, just like you wanted me to.”
Her breath caught in her throat as he moved her against the tree, “Ahh…Jake…”
“Shh, hush while I get my fill. Spread your legs.” He grabbed both her hands, placing them above her on the tree. “Don’t move,” he growled, going down on his knees in front of her, his head going below her skirt, just before she felt his nose nuzzling against the moist strip of fabric between her legs.
“Oh Jake, I…” rushed from her mouth as she felt his hand move her panties to the side, his tongue dipping into her pussy. She moaned, feeling the heat pool between her legs as speckles of sun danced on her skin.
Chapter Twenty
The weekend that started off stormy in every way ended up being perfect, except for my nagging headache. I had only myself to blame for that. I had insisted we visit Merryville, the Cheers of Napa Valley. The crew there made a point of getting to know the customers. I’d brought other women there because the staff always made the wine tastings an experience, plus the tasting room had a cozy vibe.
When we’d walked in, I recognized the guy behind the counter, waved at him, and he came over to meet Rakell. I introduced her as my girlfriend, and he raised an eyebrow, commenting that he’d seen her face somewhere. She didn’t respond, but I’d wanted to jump in and tell him to be ready to see it more. I knew this girl was going places, yet I loved that she was humble about it, as if she didn’t realize the meaning of being on the cover of Sports Illuminated’s spring addition. Now, they were putting her on the cover of the winter ski edition that would be released in the fall.
I popped a couple of aspirins and downed a half bottle of water, trying to chase away the cobwebs from the over-pours at Merryvale the night before. I suppose it didn’t help that after a round of drunk sex, which she giggled through, she’d confessed that she’d never had drunk sex, explaining that escorts were strongly discouraged from overindulging when working, which would leave them open to be taken advantage of. When she told me that, my mind still buzzing with wine, I had asked a stupid question: “Do you ever miss it? I mean, the experiences….” I wanted to know more; better understand her world as an escort. I’d always been like that, the kid who wanted to know the history of everything and everyone, and with her, I felt like it mattered, that somehow, it would matter to our relationship.
“Um,” she murmured, “do I miss it?” She rolled from her side, where she’d been looking down at me, shifting to her back, her eyes now on the ceiling. “Well, I guess I miss knowing exactly how I am supposed to act. You know how sometimes I piss you off?” She laughed.
