Bliss (17 page)

Oh, Mom,
she thought, aching.
What I wouldn't give for one of your hugs and pigtail pulls right now.
Sera's eyes stung with sudden longing, but she refused to cry and ruin her eyeliner. She'd wept for her parents long enough—so long she'd missed a good portion of her freshman year, and been so mute with grief even after she returned to school that she'd barely managed to make friends. Things had slowly improved and, Sera hoped, were about to get even better now that she'd been noticed by one of the most popular boys at school. She couldn't afford to mess this up.

But Sera didn't know how to ask Pauline, who had been born bursting with sexuality, what she wanted to ask. So she just blurted it out.

“Aunt Pauline, what do I
do?
”

Pauline's hawklike features crinkled in surprise before realization set in. “You mean, when you're with the boy? Oh, that's simple. You do what you
want
to do, Bliss. No more, no less.” She touched her niece's cheek fondly. “You don't need a refresher on our safe sex talk, do you?”

Sera frantically shook her head. That'd been one conversation she wouldn't soon forget. Souvenirs from that discussion had included a rainbow assortment of condoms, a semester-long self-defense class, and a prescription for birth control pills Sera had no intention of filling until she was in college.

“Don't forget you're a strong, confident, beautiful young woman,” Pauline reminded her, resettling Sera's denim jacket collar so that it lay properly against her neck. “You deserve the best. After all, kiddo, you're
my
niece.” She drew Sera into a fierce, patchouli-scented hug. “Go get 'em, Tiger.”

But it was Robbie who turned out to be the tiger, growling and nuzzling her neck like a wild animal the minute he'd shuffled her through their obligatory first dance. In an alarmingly chaperone-free corner of the gymnasium, he boxed Sera in and began smothering her surprised mouth with deep, slurping, porno-inspired kisses. In the background, Hanson's “MMMBop” played at deafening volume, further nauseating Sera.

Sera pulled back. “Robbie—Robbie, whoa!” She grabbed his hand, shocked, and yanked it away from where it was crushing her breast. “What are you
doing?
” Robbie's fingers abandoned the battle for her boob and swooped down to make a grab for her butt. Before she could so much as gasp her shock, he'd gotten a handful and squeezed—hard. His mouth dive-bombed her neck, sucking in a way she was sure must leave hickeys.

Hickeys!
she thought, horrified.
God, everyone will see!
She'd always found love bites revolting when girls walked down the halls proudly displaying them like brands of possession by the strutting, preening boyfriends who strolled beside them. And though most girls at their school might kill to sport a Robbie Markham™ hickey, Sera was becoming surer by the moment that she wasn't one of them.

Robbie began pressing his lower body against hers, and Sera grew even uneasier. There was a hardness there, poking her, and she didn't think it was his belt buckle.

“Robbie, stop it!” she cried, pushing against his chest. It took almost all her strength to create some breathing room between them, and his hand was still kneading her ass like a baker with a vendetta against his dough. “What are you doing?” she asked again. She swiped a trembling hand across her slobber-spattered lips.

“What's wrong, babe?” he asked glassily.

Sera had already tasted the stale malt liquor on his breath, so she guessed he'd been hitting the forty ounces from the corner bodega pretty hard.
Maybe if he'd offered
me
a forty,
she thought,
I'd be enjoying this more.
What was wrong with her? Shouldn't she be thrilled to have the hottest boy in school mauling her—and what's more, mauling her in public where everyone could see? But she wasn't. “Skeeved out” was the term that came to mind. Of all the romantic fantasies she'd entertained—Robbie parading her down the halls proudly, Robbie dipping her expertly in a dance—
this
definitely hadn't been one of them.

“Um… could we, just, you know… slow things down a little?” she squeaked.

Robbie looked confused. “Why would we want to slow down? Speeding up is the fun part.” He bumped his crotch against hers illustratively. Those dreamy brown eyes—eyes all the girls sighed over—were glazed over in a way Sera didn't like. “I know
you
know what I'm talking about.” He smirked. “Don't worry, babe. I'm all about giving a girl like you what she needs.”

“A… girl like me?” she sputtered.

“Yeah. A girl with
experience.
” He squeezed her butt meaningfully, trying to move in close again.

“Experience?” Sera's brow furrowed. “What the hell are you talking about?” she demanded with a bit more heat.

Robbie's confused expression was darkening to sullen as the wheels turned visibly in his mind.
Why did I never notice how
dumb
he is?
Sera wondered. “Come on, babe,” he pouted. “Don't go all frigid on me. Everyone at school knows you're that sex professor's kid. Bet she taught you some
hot
shit. Show me what you got, sex kitty,” he muttered, making little
“meow”
sounds Sera found revolting. “Give me what I came for. C'mon, kiss me.” His lips loomed, wet and reddened.

Sera shoved harder. “Get
off
me, Robbie,” she hissed. She looked around, not wanting to call attention to her predicament—the whole school would be gossiping about it if they saw her wrestling with Robbie like an outraged virgin—
never mind that I
am
an outraged virgin,
Sera thought hysterically—but hoping for a chaperone who could break things up without making it her fault. Then his words began to really penetrate.

“Wait a minute, what do you mean, what you
came
for?” she asked. She tried to make her voice firm, but it wouldn't fully obey her. She pried his hand off her ass and took a step sideways, out of his grasp. “I thought…” Sera wasn't sure how to finish that sentence. She darted a glance her date's way, and her stomach clenched. Robbie looked pissed. No, he looked
thwarted,
and from the tightness in his face, it wasn't an experience he was used to. When Robbie Markham made a pass, girls were supposed to swoon.

“What, you thought I
liked
you?” he sneered, looking her up and down disdainfully. Sera felt every imperfection cataloged in that stare, from her short stature to her less-than-skinny frame and hair that just wouldn't “do the Rachel” no matter how hard her stylist tried.

Then Robbie did something that hurt worse. He started to laugh.

He guffawed in big, incredulous whoops that began to draw looks from across the dance floor. “You thought—what, that you were going to be my girlfriend now? Oh my God.
Seriously?
Get over yourself. I don't even remember your name, freak show. I just want what you give up for all the guys.” He grabbed her crotch, and Sera's mind went blank with horror. Her knee, however, had absorbed Pauline's lessons in self-defense well, and it gave Robbie Markham's balls the kiss he'd been asking for—times a hundred.

Sera left Robbie squealing on the gymnasium floor, clutching his family jewels and encircled by a crowd of gawking classmates.

Returning to school on Monday was the hardest thing she'd ever done. She'd spent the weekend avoiding her aunt's avid questions about her date and obsessing over whether she'd committed social suicide as badly as she feared. But all seemed well; no one harassed her or even mentioned the incident…

Until she opened her locker after third period.

Only to be deluged by a hard rain of dildos.

Dozens upon dozens of them poured from the small space out onto the linoleum floor, bouncing and rolling as, behind her, Sera heard her fellow students howling with laughter. Her face flamed bright red and she spun around.

Robbie stood surrounded by a gaggle of his groupies, arms folded over the front of his letterman jacket. What felt like half the school had gathered in that third-floor hallway, apparently alerted ahead of time that something was afoot. Some of them were laughing so hard they had tears running down their cheeks. But Robbie just glared at her. “Figured these must be more your style, freak show,” he taunted. “Well, have fun with them. Sure as shit no boy at this school's ever going to ask your frigid ass out again.”

For the rest of her high school career, Sera had been known as
The Ball Buster,
and true to Robbie's prediction, no one had asked her out. She had, however, delighted her girlfriends with buckets of delicious, perfectly formed caramels.

She had also developed a lifelong aversion to sex toys.

Just then, Sera's iPod took it upon itself to start playing Billy Idol's “Dancing with Myself,” jolting her back to the present—the store, Santa Fe, the fact that she was twenty-nine years old and no longer thought Betsey Johnson the height of fashion. It was a good feeling. Hell, it was the best feeling ever.
That's not me anymore,
she reminded herself.
I'm sober, I'm strong, and no asshole guy's ever going to intimidate me like that again.

Ba-dadadadada-DA-da…

The old familiar guitar riff spiked her adrenaline.
Damn straight. I'm a woman of substance, about to be a small business owner. And Robbie Markham is probably fat, bald, and addicted to Cialis.

Without volition, Sera's head started bobbing and her shoulders started wiggling. As she rose to her feet, her toes tapped in the scuffed combat boots she'd worn for cleaning today—grandchildren to her old high school clompers. She started humming along with the lyrics.

“When there's nothing to lose, and there's nothing to prove…,”
crooned Billy.

Nothing to lose, indeed. But perhaps quite a lot to prove.

“Fuck it,” she growled.

Sera grabbed the nearest dildo—a massive, fleshy pink dong studded with what she assumed were pleasure nubs, though they looked more like alien warts. She cranked up the volume on her iPod as high as it would go and started belting out the words to the song.

Using the wiener as a microphone.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh!”
she yelled along with Billy, making a brat-punk face. And again,
“Oh, oh, oh, oh!”

And suddenly Serafina was dancing. With herself.

The shop's newly cleared floorboards served as her stage, and Sera let her freak flag fly. She strutted and whirled, doing her best Billy Idol impression. Lip curl: check. Head bob: check. Fist pump: oh
hell
yeah. It was just her, Billy, and the empty store, having a private moment. Sera's chin-length hair flew about her sweat-dampened cheeks as she rocked out with her cock out. Dust rose in little puffs around her despite the sweeping she'd done, and the sun, breaking out from behind the clouds, speared in through the front window, giving Sera her own personal spotlight.

She shimmied her shoulders, raised her fists, and pumped her arms above her head until she was sweating as her Idol commanded. Billy reached the chorus, rasping and growling into her ears, reminding Sera she didn't need anyone's approval; she could meet her own needs.
“With my record collection and the mirror's reflection…,”
she howled into the dong.

At the mention of mirrors, Sera's glance caught the one along Pauline's back wall. She strutted over to it, channeling Billy's mojo, wailing the words of his hit into her improvised mike.

Its reflection, however, showed she was
not
dancing with herself. She was performing for an audience of two.

Or at least, one human, and one very curious puppy.

Asher and Silver were arrested just inside her doorjamb, both sets of eyes wide, both jaws unhinged.

“Ahhhhhhhh!” Sera screamed as she spun to face Asher. The dildo, sweat-slicked from her impromptu performance, slipped the bonds of her surprise-slackened fingers and went sailing across the store.

Smacking her landlord—
bull's-eye!
—right in the chest.

P
lunk!
With a rubbery plop, the dong bounced off Asher's pecs and landed on the floor. Silver—who seemed to have grown at least six inches since last she'd seen him—growled and pounced on it with delighted fury, grabbing it in his tiny teeth and gnawing for all he was worth. His husky head shook happily as he did his doggy damnedest to subdue his prey.

Sera yanked out her ear buds and came to a crashing halt in the middle of the store. Her hands flew to her lips in horror. Of all the ways she'd envisioned her next encounter with Asher Wolf occurring, this hadn't even made the top five hundred.

“Don't stop on my account,” Asher said mildly.

“Jesus, Asher,” she swore, “don't sneak up on a girl like that!” Her cheeks bloomed with color, as they seemed so wont to do in his presence. She slunk over to where Silver was enjoying his unexpected snack. “C'mere, boy, drop the weenie,” she cajoled, but the pup was having none of it. He growled again and bared his teeth around his prize, backing up behind Asher to ward off her incursion.

Sera gave it up as a bad job. No way was she going to have a tug of war over a wiener with a half-pint puppy in front of her gorgeous—and too damn kissable—landlord. She pushed her unruly hair out of her eyes and dared a look up at Ash. He appeared to be biting his lip to keep from cracking up. An answering grin snuck up on her own lips. “Aw, shaddup,” she said finally, though he hadn't spoken. “Let's just pretend you never saw that, okay?”

“I'm not sure I can ever forget such an… impassioned… performance, Bliss,” he said, crossing his arms as though to keep the chuckles contained within his chest, “but I'll do my best to keep it to myself.”

“Fair enough. You want something to drink?” she offered, heading behind the counter to give herself some space and let her blush die down. Her heart was hammering, and it wasn't just from dancing. She felt giddy and awkward at the same time; less embarrassed about the performance Asher had just witnessed than the kiss on Friday that had sent him fleeing into the night. Still, on the whole, she had to admit she was glad to see him. “I've only got bottled water, unless you're into Big Mama…”

She had to smile at his quick, alarmed shake of the head. He was hatless today, his old-gold hair cropped closer than it had been last week, very butch. Her fingers itched to test the fuzz on the back of his neck, feel the rough/smooth texture of that buzzed cut. “I'm fine, thank you, Bliss,” he said, crossing the room to stand closer. Only the mahogany cabinetry kept them apart, and he narrowed the distance by leaning his hip cozily against it.
Lucky cabinet,
Sera thought.

“I'd offer you a seat, but I'm afraid they're all taken,” Sera apologized, gesturing at the armchairs that were occupied with the boxes and bags she'd packed up. She grabbed a bottle of water and guzzled to cool herself down, wetting a paper towel and running it across her cheeks to calm the fires raging there.

“No problem. I shouldn't stay long in any case,” said Ash. “I've got a special order to finish for a customer who's coming by this afternoon.”

“Oh,” she said, trying to keep the disappointment from her voice. She leaned her elbows on the worn countertop. His mirth at her Billy Idol imitation notwithstanding, she could tell Asher was uncomfortable with her today. He wasn't meeting her eyes the way he used to. And she had no doubt about the cause.
No way am I bringing up our kiss. Or his freaked-out reaction. Let
him
stew over it,
she thought.
I've got nothing to apologize for.

Apparently, Asher felt
he
did. “Bliss…” he began. Like a sudden storm cloud obscuring the sun, his expression grew somber, the light fading from his eyes. He looked harsher, older. He also looked more awkward than she'd ever seen him. Sera's stomach clenched.

“Yeeesss…” she drawled when he didn't continue. She tried to keep her teasing smile in place, but she had a feeling it was about to be dashed.

She was right.

“I'm sorry I kissed you,” Asher blurted out. He pushed away from the counter and started pacing, running a hand through his hair. “I should never have done that.”

Ow.

“Don't worry,” Sera said through lips that had gone stiff. “I didn't have any expectations.” She was shredding the paper towel unconsciously between her fingers. “I'm sorry for asking you to dance. It was inappropriate and you probably didn't feel you could say no…”

She looked away, desperate to be anywhere but here, reminded of how much she was lacking as a woman. She recalled how she'd clung to Asher during their kiss, and how he'd been forced to gently but firmly disentangle himself from her clutches. Apparently, one kiss from her was enough to send her landlord racing for the hills, if his pained expression were to be believed.

By the open door frame, Silver whined, locked in a death match with the dildo. He'd wrapped his front paws around the dong and had the head in his mouth, while his back legs kangaroo kicked the shaft.
I know a certain shithead chef I'd like to see receive that treatment,
she thought, momentarily distracted. But thoughts of Blake only sent her mood crashing further. He'd always said she was a lousy lay—a lousy everything, except when it came to pastry. And it seemed he'd been right. Asher had found her kiss repulsive.

Tears burned behind her eyes. She clenched the damp paper towel in her fist, crushing what was left of it. She wished he would just leave. She wished a drink—or several—were still an option for her.

Asher ceased his pacing, his gaze arrested on her face. It must have been showing something of what she felt, because he lurched forward without a hint of his customary grace. Before Sera could react, he was catching her surprised hands in his rough, callused ones. Sera dropped the paper towel as her heart thundered.

“No,”
he said. Forcefully. “No.” More gently this time. “Bliss, I don't know what you are thinking at this moment, but whatever it is was not my intention.”

“I…” She didn't know how to continue. His intentions, her perceptions, both were in a muddle and she wasn't sure how to find her way back out. “Asher, I don't know what to say here…”

“I had no idea I would upset you so much.” His hands tightened around hers. “I knew I shouldn't… but I couldn't help myself. I didn't realize how badly it might affect you. Damn it, I can't believe I took such advantage!” One hand left hers to spear through his hair again, as if forgetting he'd shorn it short. He looked ready to tear hanks out.

“Advantage?”
she ventured. Sera couldn't fathom what that meant. She'd never met a man who was more of a gentleman than Asher Wolf.

“Yes. It was wrong of me to impose upon your good nature. You were merely fulfilling your friends' dare by dancing with me, and I had to take it further and ruin everything by kissing you. It was inexcusable.”

“
Inexcusable?
C'mon, Ash, it wasn't
that
bad of a kiss—was it?”

“Because of our respective positions here,” he explained, seeing her befuddled expression. “And no—it wasn't bad at all, Bliss. In fact”—the hand that still covered hers moved in a caressing gesture that sent streaks of sensation up and down her arm—“it was just the opposite. For me, at least. But I should never have taken such advantage.”

Sera was catching on. “Because you're my landlord?”

“Just so.”

“And you think I felt obligated to—what, put out?—because of that?”

His lean cheeks reddened. “Well…”

Sera burst out laughing.

Really, really hard.

Maybe it was the relief that he hadn't hated her kiss, but she could not seem to stop
ha-ha
ing and
ho-ho
ing, especially when she saw the chagrined expression that spread across his handsome features. Typical macho male.

“Oh, Ash,” she said when she could breathe again. “Don't worry about it—really, it's no big thing. And believe me, if your kiss had been unwelcome, I wouldn't have accepted it—
and
reciprocated the way I did. I'm a big girl. I'd have made my boundaries clear if you were crossing them. You were a perfect gentleman, every step of the way.”

“You made it hard to be,” Ash admitted. “It was the first time…” He broke off, eyes turning inward. “Anyway, the first time in a very long time that I've had such a delightful evening with a woman. I'm glad to know I wasn't trespassing into inappropriate territory.”

You can trespass like that anytime you like,
Sera wanted to say. But she didn't quite have the gumption.

“So… we're good?” she asked instead.

“Yes, I believe so,” Asher agreed. He dropped her hands abruptly. He seemed to be scrambling for a neutral topic. “So, ah… was your weekend… pleasant?” He winced a bit, as if aware his segue left something to be desired.

Sera had a moment of
schadenfreude
at his discomfort. It was such a novelty to be the one not left tongue-tied in their interactions that she took a second to savor it, having a feeling she'd be back to blushing and stuttering before long. “Nice enough,” she allowed. The change of subject was welcome. “I spent a lot of time on the phone, chasing leads about contractors, actually.”

“And did you find one?” Ash asked politely.

“I'm thinking of going with your friend Malcolm. I meant to ask your feelings on the subject, since it'd be your walls he'd be tearing down and your floors he'd be ripping up. It's the reason I wanted you to come by today.”
Not because I wanted another taste of those freakishly delicious lips.

Whatever Asher might have said on the subject was drowned out by a shriek coming from the courtyard.

“Oh my gawd, what
is
that
thing?
” a woman's nasal voice pierced the still-damp morning air. “It's growling at me! I think it's going to attack! Don't let it near me, Stanley!” Another high-pitched shriek. “What is that in its
mouth?!?
”

The absence of puppy in the shop registered with Serafina and Asher simultaneously.

“Silver!”

They ran for the door. Skidding to a halt on the porch beside Ash, Sera took in the scene. Asher's little husky had cornered a couple of tourists by the fountain, new chew toy firmly wedged in his drooling muzzle. Tail wagging frantically, he was the picture of friendly curiosity. But apparently Stanley and his wife were getting a different impression. The lady, a woman in her early sixties with a weathered face and a lot of black eyeliner and brittle dyed black hair, was visibly trembling and clinging to her husband for support at the sight of Silver, who didn't come up even as high as the top of her posh leather cowboy boot. Her husband, short and pudgy, with ears as whiskery as the pooch's, looked closer to fainting than she did.

Not dog lovers then, Sera surmised.

“Mister, is this your animal?” the man—Stanley, it seemed—called out.

Silver shook his little head, sending doggy drool flying.

The woman squeaked and clutched her husband's arm tighter. Asher started down the porch steps. “I have that honor,” he said lightly. “He won't harm you.”

Sera snickered. The worst Silver could do to the tourists would be to cover them in puppy slobber.
But then, if I were wearing a brand-new full-length hand-embroidered shearling that still had the price tag dangling from it, I might consider that a calamity, too.

Asher stepped forward to defuse the situation. Sera watched admiringly from the porch, resting her elbows on the railing.

Silver, however, wasn't done playing. As Ash reached to scoop him up and away from the treed tourists, the puppy scooted out of reach, barking around his latex prize and wagging ever more furiously. He glanced back at Asher, inviting pursuit. Asher had no choice but to oblige. Enthralled with the game, Silver took off. Asher broke into a lope, even as Sera broke into a grin. Her landlord's lean musculature was a pleasure to watch as he dodged and wove in his impromptu rugby match with the husky. She knew she should help him, but really, it was so much fun to watch…

She wasn't alone in her sentiment, she saw. Across the courtyard, she glimpsed Aruni poke her head out of Tantrastic to see what the yelling was about. The class she was teaching had given up all pretense of maintaining mountain poses or sun salutations or whatever they were doing, crowding the plate-glass window to watch the goings-on. On the
placita
's opposite side, Mr. Yazzie, who ran a sculpture gallery that specialized in fantastical—and fantastically expensive—glassworks, had also emerged, squinting to see what was up. He pulled his baggy maroon cardigan closer around his stocky body, nodding in response to Sera's friendly wave. Pauline had introduced her to the gallery manager her first week here, and she'd found the older Native American gent very kind and charming, especially when he shyly confessed a penchant for sticky buns. Sera had assured him they'd be on her menu. Now she saw he had a bit of a sense of humor, too. “Five dollars on the puppy,” he called. “Care to match it?”

“I've gotta go with the Wolf, George,” she shot back. “And make it ten.”

George gave her a thumbs-up gesture of acknowledgment.

Asher was rounding the fountain again, Silver in the lead, while the tourists yelped and plastered themselves against the porch railing of Asher's shop. A series of joyous barks erupted from the doghouse, where Sascha and the other pups rested, and the terrified couple squealed and backed away. Sera covered her mouth to keep from giggling.

Silver was barreling toward the
placita
's entrance, and Sera had a moment's fear he'd get out into the street. He disappeared into the covered archway, Asher steps behind. She heard a yip of doggy dismay, a Scottish-accented “Gotcha!” and then a bark of a laugh. Seconds later, Asher emerged,
sans
puppy but with a huge grin on his face. Behind him, a red-faced Malcolm McLeod trailed, puppy tucked firmly under one arm and dildo pinched gingerly between two fingers.