3 #Cookies

The rustle of fine linen filled Teddi’s ears when her head twisted from one side to the other. 

She was close. 

So close. 

The unmistakable flush of anticipation simmered on her skin.  The warm fire in her belly built.  The flames were licking lower, intent upon consumption, and her thighs quivered their plea for relief.  A plea that was answered in the span of a sharp breath.  She arched and welcomed the blissful tumble of tremors into her limbs, willing it to last just a little longer. 

Because this nirvana was her clandestine addiction. 

Orgasms allowed her to appreciate the wild beat of her heart instead of despising it, for the pounding wasn’t borne of irrational fear.  Her body’s behavior in these moments wasn’t betrayal but a faultless response to intense physical pleasure.  For these few fleeting moments at a time, Teddi was without flaw, and she reveled in the perfection.

It was part of the reason she had such a keen appreciation for sex.

Truman had been enamored with her overzealous libido during the early days of their marriage, but sometime after their third anniversary he’d lost interest, claiming that she was too “intense”.  She presumed that meant sex with her required more than the quick and purposeful missionary-style coupling he preferred, so she couldn’t argue the point. 

Maggie was right.  Teddi had passion in her soul.  She was just very particular about how that passion found release.

Even so, Truman ended up limiting their marital relations to once a week, saying that if she needed more, then she could find alternate arrangements with his blessing.  

As though that was an option.

Extramarital sex would open her up to the possibility of social ridicule and family scorn, neither of which she wished to endure.  Therefore, Teddi contented herself with Truman’s weekly limitations until his death, and then abstained from everything but self-pleasure until she’d gone through an appropriate grieving period.  

Her sexual appetite wasn’t quite as voracious by then – at least in its frequency.  She was still “intense” and found an outlet for it without the need for socialization.

“You good?” Pierce breathed, rolling away.

“Mhm.” 

Without further comment, he rose to go and dispose of the condom that they both insisted upon.  He’d been with her often enough to know that idle chitchat wasn’t required or desired.  Their interaction was meant to be nothing beyond physical, and his respect of that was something Teddi appreciated. 

Especially now, when she could still close her eyes and feel the weight of Jon Bon Jovi’s hand at the small of her back.  It was the imagined feel of his touch in other places that provided tonight’s satisfaction, and the man flushing the hotel toilet was merely an instrument to carry out her vision.   

Pierce was a skilled and competent lover.  He always fulfilled her needs, or she wouldn’t request his company every other week.  His wholehearted acceptance of her intensity provided a sense of freedom that only money could buy, but the tongue that lifted her to unprecedented heights this evening didn’t belong to him.  Rather than the salted dark head between her thighs, it was the thought of a rumpled silver one that lit the fuse on Teddi’s first firecracker. 

Lying here with her lids closed, she could almost hear Jon’s lazy “sweetheart” remark all over again.  It took some concentration, but she could almost imagine the scent that wrapped around her along with his arm when Maggie had manipulated the two of them into standing for a photo. 

It was a defining moment, because Teddi didn’t meltdown as her cousins had predicted.  She’d known it wouldn’t happen but was still delighted that Jon’s casual embrace produced only a giddy warmth in her tummy.  The gentle dig of his fingers into her shoulder was sensual instead of terrifying, even with her family grinning like loons when Jon’s hip settled flush against hers. 

Being tucked into his side…  

Tranquil euphoria was an oxymoron but also the only terminology she could use to describe it.  Teddi was so smitten with the feeling that she wasn't even mortified when Kizzy pushed a pen and paper at him to request a birthday autograph on her behalf.  His easy smile and remark that fifty was the new thirty made it seem perfectly normal, and the group photo John Shanks took afterward showed her as curiously relaxed and happy.

Both the solo and group pictures would be treasured memories and displayed on her desk by the end of tomorrow.  She would find another special spot for the autograph.

“You want me to stay?”

Teddi’s eyes snapped open to meet Pierce’s quiet inquiry while pulling the sheet over her naked form.  He was an unquestionably handsome man with his smooth chest, sculpted arms, dark eyes and well-groomed beard that bore the same dusting of gray as his head.  Any woman would love to roll over to find him sleeping on the other side of the bed, and she was ordinarily tempted to accept, but memories interested her more than an encore. 

“Thank you, but not tonight.”

His expression didn’t change, as it was her customary answer.  Pierce only nodded slightly and reached for the khaki slacks he’d draped over a chair back. 

As he was buttoning the waistband, coffee-tinted eyes slid to Teddi with interest.  “Everything okay?  Things seemed a little different than usual.”

Pushing a hand through hair that slid forward when she scooted into a seated position against the headboard, Teddi offered an apologetic frown.  It never occurred to her that Pierce might sense Jon’s presence in her mind, and she regretted it to a certain extent.  

“I was still preoccupied from dinner with my family.  Please forgive me.”

A head that looked as good mussed as styled was bent over shirt buttons, but he flicked a reassuring gaze her way.  “No apology necessary as long as you’re satisfied.  Are we still on for the end of the month?”

That sounded like it should be in line with their regular schedule, but right now, she couldn’t recall the next time Pierce was slotted into her calendar.  He was exceptional at keeping up with his own calendar, however, so Teddi nodded trustingly. 

“I believe so.  I’ll make the usual confirmation beforehand.”

“Sounds good.  Oh.  I almost forgot.”  He shoved bare feet into loafers and while simultaneously scooping his messenger bag from the desk.  Folding back the flap, he withdrew a lingerie box wrapped in glossy beige paper and tied with a darker taupe ribbon.  

“Happy birthday.”

“Thank you.”  She accepted the package with a little frown.  “However, that’s completely unnecessary.  I didn’t mention the birthday dinner as my reason for coming into the city in order to get a gift.”

“I know.”  He bent to buss her forehead with a kiss.  “But you’re not just a client.  I’ve come to think of us as friends.”

After five years of regular appointments through the escort service, Teddi supposed she thought of him as a friend, too.  He was one of the handful of people outside the family who had been to her house, so at the very least, he knew there was something to her beyond well-honed manners and sweater sets.  That was more than she could say for ninety percent of her acquaintances.

“That’s very kind of you, and of course we’re friends.”  She was going to have to remember to call the agency tomorrow and find out his birthday – or peek in his wallet the next time they were together.  One shouldn’t accept a gift without reciprocating at the appropriate time.  “I’m sure I’ll cherish it.”

“It’s a scarf,” he scolded with a laugh.  “Hardly cherish-worthy, but it reminded me of your bedroom.  I thought the colors might look nice with beige.”

The room to which he referred wasn’t her bedroom, but he didn’t realize that and correcting him was unnecessary.  What he spoke of was a vibrant room whose window dressing, bedding and accessories were as colorful as Maggie’s dress this evening. 

By contrast, the room she claimed as hers was almost colorless and looked very much like the gift in her hand.  The taupe, pale beige and ivory were soothing and conducive to sleep, while the flowers on the nightstand offered a feminine touch that would meet Grandmother Peabody’s approval.  It was perfectly befitting a woman of Teddi’s age and socioeconomic background.

“How very thoughtful,” she commended graciously, knowing if the scarf was as bold and bright as the room Pierce mentioned, it would likely never find its way out of her lingerie drawer.  Lively colors drew eyes and Teddi preferred a neutral and unnoticed existence.  Perhaps she’d use it as a covering for the lamp in the bedroom he’d mentioned.  It would please him to see the gift used, and she would enjoy it in that setting. 

When she looked up to thank Pierce again, everything but a waving hand had disappeared out the door.

It closed quietly behind him, and Teddi’s lips compressed together in a pang of remorse before she chided herself.  It was the same exit he always used and had nothing to do with sluggish appreciation of his gift.  

She dismissed her faulty manners and reached for the nightstand, exchanging the package for her phone and scrunching down into the pillows. 

A single press of her thumb had the screen flaring to life, and one more brought up the photos from dinner tonight.  The first glimpse of his arm around her with a smile that wasn’t “that” smile – the one that was nothing more than a baring of teeth – had Teddi grinning fondly at the screen. 

Her life-long crush was a painfully handsome, pure 100% Jersey (or New York) male.  Swagger was evident in the cock of his hips, but that was all the arrogance she’d seen in him tonight.  In personality, he was gracious, kind, funny and warm in the way Teddi had always known him to be.  

Looking at these photos and reliving the memory bolstered the peace she'd long-ago made with herself.  It was okay that she'd never see one of his concerts live, and that there was every chance in the world she’d never encounter the man himself again.  Teddi had already received more than a recluse had a right to hope for. 

She would be quite content with these pictures, her memories and YouTube. 

Swiping to the left, her smile faded into the subdued Mona Lisa variety as she pinched out the screen until his face and sparkling eyes were the only thing that filled it.  

This photo…  It was the one she would hold dearest, even though her cousins were all crowded into the frame with them.  The picture itself wasn’t the real treasure.  She would just forever associate it with what happened in the seconds after the image was captured.

Under the ruckus of Maggie, Cat and Kizzy demanding that Stef take a picture of them with John Shanks, Jon Bon Jovi had lightly latched onto Teddi’s arm.  It prevented her from returning to her seat, and when she turned an inquisitive look on him, one corner of his mouth tipped up endearingly. 

“You smell like cookies.  Makes me want to skip dinner for dessert.”

The scent had nothing to do with cookies.  It was just vanilla shampoo and almond blossom lotion.  She might’ve told him that if her mind hadn’t dropped straight into the dirty gutter.  

His comment seemed innocent enough unless you were a fan who’d read and watched every interview of the last two decades, at least one of which revealed Jon’s weakness for cookies.

Eating cookies. 

Teddi’s hand slipped down her naked torso under the covers, sneaking between her thighs as she peered into crinkled blue eyes. 

She’d like very much to be his cookie. 

To be eaten by him. 

Devoured, in fact.