The club pulsed, the movement as elegant as it was primal. To Jennifer Hart's eyes, it was an indistinct miasma of light and sound, an impressionist landscape of muddled colors rendered even more indistinct by smoke and the afteraffects a single tequila shot.
She wasn't drunk, not yet, but she wasn't entirely sober either. The kaleidoscope of color and sound shifted dizzyingly so Jennifer resolved to stick to champagne and tried to focus on the conversation at her table.
"He loves it when press that soft spot between his…you know." The bride, Monica, blushed prettily. She and her bridal party were all at least twenty years Jennifer's junior, giggling and toasted. The topic, she noted, hadn't stopped being sex since they sat down. Not a surprise considering it was a hen party, but Jennifer was reluctant to participate. With enough alcohol in her system, she was liable to say something she'd regret come sun-up. Especially without Jonathan present to keep her lips otherwise occupied.
Instead she kept one ear on the raucous conversation, sipped her drink and thought of Jonathan, and how she wished she'd stayed home with him. Although he wasn't home alone. He and Max were hosting Paul's stag night, which was supposed to consist of artery-clogging food, lots of dark alcohol, cigars and poker. Jennifer wasn't naive enough to think there weren't also strippers currently entertaining them, either. While she had no concerns about Jonathan, Max was another story as he would likely adopt them all. The gruff old man had countless nieces and nephews scattered across the United States. She thought there might even be one or two in Canada.
"What do you think, Jennifer?" The other Jennifer - known to the group as Jenny - watched her intently. Jennifer was startled to find all eyes on her.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I've missed the question. My mind was wandering."
"To Jonathan, I'm sure." Monica tittered. Jennifer smiled indulgently at the young woman, who wasn't entirely wrong. Monica's tiara was slipping off her curls and, like the rest of the inebriated party, her makeup was smearing. They were all so terribly, terribly young.
"Is it true? Does sex really end after marriage?" Jenny asked bluntly.
It had to be the Patrón that had Jennifer scoffing out loud, especially when she hadn't intended to answer at all. The group shattered into giggles and Jennifer felt a wash of maternal affection for the girls around her. They were silly and sweet and trying so hard to engage with her. She didn't have any siblings, but she imagined this is what it would feel like to be a big sister.
"You don't have to say, Jennifer." Monica was apologetic. Among her friends, Monica was bright and bubbly but she maintained the sweetness Jennifer saw in her the first time Paul introduced them. So much younger than the rest of their friends, Monica's appearance at Paul's side had been a scandal. Paul, rounding the corner on sixty and a widower of nearly ten years, seemed to be a confirmed bachelor…until he began showing up with a woman young enough to be his daughter. It caused enough friction that wives steered their husbands away from the couple, a petty snub that obviously wounded Monica deeply. Jennifer took it upon herself to welcome the younger woman, showing her the same kindness and acceptance she bestowed on everyone. There wasn't a woman alive at the Beverly Hills Country Club who would dare act out against someone sponsored by Mrs Hart herself, so the dust was mostly settled. Monica was, if not warmly welcomed, at least no longer ostracized. And she had attached herself to Jennifer with a little something like hero worship in her eyes.
Jennifer reached out to pat Monica's hand consolingly and chose to answer honestly. "It certainly does not."
"Not with Jonathan Hart, at least." Said another woman; Jennifer couldn't quite recall her name. "He's a hunk."
She could only grin and shrug because…well. Her husband was still a fine figure. He was sexy in both the obvious ways (handsome with a sweetly devilish smile, a firm body, a thick head full of hair…) and the quieter ones too. He desired her, of course, but he also cherished her. His touch, even 20 years into their marriage, told her how much he loved her and his words were the same. He was her safety and her desire, all in one magnificent package.
That evening as she'd prepared to leave the house she caught sight of him helping Max set up the game room. He was wearing an old pair of jeans, faded and soft from decades of wear, and a Rams t-shirt that did nothing but accentuate the biceps he worked so hard to keep toned. Desire flooded her, as sharp and hot as the single tequila shot, and nearly as potent. She just wanted to sink her teeth into him. He'd caught her stare and immediately translated her look.
"You have to go." He said the words, unconvincingly, because he was drinking in her appearance too. Skirts were shorter these days and the midnight leather was buttery and supple, something she picked up on their last trip to Milan. She chose silk to wear beneath the matching jacket, white and sheer enough to allow the red of her bra to ghost through. She might have been heading out to a club, but she dressed solely for him and the outfit hit the mark. He scanned down to the impossibly high stiletto pumps and back up, gaze lingering on her thighs long enough that Jennifer actually clenched them together.
"Don't have too much fun without me," He teased, but there was enough gravel in his tone to tickle the nape of her neck.
"I wouldn't dare," she promised, licking her lips. All evening she found herself considering the many ways they might make it up to each other later that night. Now she let herself imagine it again, the hot, firm heat of him pressed against her. His erection in her hands as she winked up at him, her blouse pooled at her elbows and his gaze firmly on her breasts. The mental images surfaced even easier with tequila to lubricate the way, and Jennifer realized everyone was staring at her.
"I'd give anything to know what you're thinking right now." Jenny said, her eyes narrowed with wicked glee.
"Grown up things," Jennifer assured them and the group dissolved into giggles again. That odd maternal sense was there once more and she shook her head at the offer of another round. She couldn't shake the idea that, in spite of the fact that the women were all adults, they needed looking after.
Well beyond midnight the party began to wind down and when Jennifer got up to use the ladies room, the horizon tilted a few alarming degrees before settling. Thankfully their rescue had been plotted in advance, just in case. It was Jennifer and Jonathan's job to make sure both bride and groom and their attended parties didn't overindulge...or were at least back in there hotel rooms before dawn. Everything was calculated so that, at 1:30, Jonathan would arrive to help her herd the ladies into a limo. Max would pour Paul and his groomsmen into their own limo for safe delivery to the hotel. If they could get the bachelorettes into their own car, the driver would be sure the ladies made it safely to theirs.
A glance at her watch told Jennifer that her husband was likely already on his way to rescue her, so once back at the table she gave in to the pleading and joined the girls in another drink.
"No shots." She was adamant and grinned when a vodka martini was set in front of her instead. The girls whooped with glee when Jennifer knocked back the cocktail with a deft flick of her wrist. It was very dry, and burned all the way down.
Laser lights cut through the hazy fog, filling the air with a variety of lights that made the dancers appear as if they were in a stop-motion film. Was time slowing, or was the vodka hitting her system like an atomic bomb?
Her teeth were dragging the olive from her toothpick when she spotted Jonathan, the crowd parting before his striding steps. Even dressed down he commanded a room.
"Ladies," He reached the table and his charming, wide smile had everyone fluttering. He didn't wear jeans nearly enough in Jennifer's opinion, a fact accentuated when he bent to press a kiss to Monica's cheek.
His eyes locked with hers and she bared her teeth around the toothpick. At that moment, Jennifer had three concurrent thoughts. One, her husband was the sexiest man alive. Two, she wanted to wrap her lips around him more than she wanted her next breath. And three, she was very, very drunk.
If the earlier shot had been a bad idea, the countless glasses of champagne capped with the martini following were an epic mistake.
An inebriated Jennifer, her husband once told her, was a sight to behold. Something that Jonathan enjoyed and feared in equal measure. His expression shifted, clocking just how far gone she was.
"Oh my gawd." Yelped Theresa, Monica's maid of honor and older sister and Jennifer knew they were staring at her husband. He, in turn, only had eyes for his wife.
"Who is that?" Kate - or was it Carrie? - asked and Jennifer recrossed her legs, noting with pleasure that Jonathan remembered how very short her skirt was.
"Darling?" Jonathan had to almost shout over the din, holding his hand out to Jennifer. Her expression must have been just shy of feral because even in the pulsing lights she could see her husband flush.
"Jonathan!" Monica trilled, and he nodded to the group. "This is Jonathan Hart. Jennifer's husband."
There were low whistles and high pitched giggles when Jennifer took his hand to stand up.
"You look like a walking felony." He murmured against her ear as she stood. His words chased a shiver across her overheated skin. She'd abandoned her coat on the back of her chair and the heat of the club had caused her to open a few extra buttons on her blouse. Enough that a tasteful amount of lace peeked out below the diamond heart pendant she always wore. She could only imagine the state of her hair, which had started twisted up in an elegant knot. Jonathan's jaw twitched as he snatched up her coat and slid it over her shoulders.
"Are you ready?" He said louder, but Jennifer stalled him with her palm on his belly. She felt his muscles clench beneath her fingertips and she looked up at him through her lashes.
"You look ready." He dropped his chin and his octave, the double meaning of his words catching her right at her core.
"Oh, you have no idea." She promised. "But we need to make sure these ladies get into their limo safely. If I'm drunk, they're absolutely plastered."
Jonathan's chuckle followed his fingertips up her spine. "You're gorgeous when you're being responsible."
Jennifer hummed and hooked her fingers in the waistband of his jeans, as much to steady herself as to tease him. "You should see me when I'm irresponsible. If you're very very good now, I will be very very irresponsible later."
He squeezed her elbow, conveying his intention to hold her to that promise, and they began to gently usher the unruly crowd up and towards the door. It was not unlike juggling jello and it took far longer than it should have to make sure they all had their coats and purses and goody bags.
Jennifer gasped in the relative cool of the LA night. It wasn't cold, but the warmth of the club contrasted wildly with the brisk breeze. Jennifer felt slightly more alert as they stood waiting for the car to be brought around.
"Did you get any lap dances tonight?" She asked, resting her head back against Jonathan's shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her abdomen, drawing her snug against him. It was supposed to be a quiet night of poker, but Jennifer wasn't an idiot.
"Not from anyone who mattered." He admitted against her hair, swaying them slightly. He buried his nose against her neck. "You smell so good."
"The night is still young." She laid her hand over his, scratching her nails lightly over the back of his fingers. "You might get lucky yet."
"Really. So how drunk are you?" Jonathan asked, his tone impish. If she turned to look, she knew just the twinkle that would be in his eyes. God, she loved him.
"How drunk are you?" She parried, knowing he wasn't, not even a little. He wouldn't have driven to get her if he had been.
His thumbs made little circles on her hip bones and even that small touch felt intensified ten fold. The ache she had for him all evening was becoming unbearable, especially because he was standing close enough that she could feel his heat against her entire back. His cologne had faded away and the musky scent of him wrapped around her. Tempting her.
"Hmmm" Jennifer turned suddenly, one hand clutching his hip for balance. The other tunneled into his hair and drew his face to hers. She swallowed his sharp surprise, lips closing over his gasp roughly. There was a dull clamor behind her, but Jennifer didn't care. She was with her man. She slipped her tongue into Jonathan's mouth, crushing herself against his chest. He was warm and solid and so very male, her every fantasy come to life. She tasted whiskey and cigars and desire, a heady combination for a woman already compromised.
Jonathan didn't hesitate and returned her kiss with equal fervor, sucking her tongue and curling his palms over the soft leather of her skirt. His thigh was hard between her legs and she gave a subtle thrust against it.
The kiss was messy and inappropriate but it was only the need for oxygen that stopped them. Jennifer dropped from her tiptoes to sway in front of him, both of him, her palms framing that devastatingly handsome face and holding it steady.
"Oh." His grin was all teeth, wolfish and hungry and so very dear to her.
"I love you," She meant to say it quietly, but the words came out more or less a shout. With every passing second she felt drunker and she wasn't sure if it was because of the alcohol or his nearness. She suspected it was the intoxicating mixture of both, along with the security of his proximity. Nothing bad would happen in Jonathan's care.
"I love you, too." Jonathan clutched at her hips and stared at her in bewildered astonishment while the bridal group continued to hoot and chatter loudly behind her.
"I think I had an orgasm just watching that." One of them cackled to the absolute glee of the rest.
"Jennifer, how did you stay quiet all night? The stories you must have had to tell…" Another sounded very disappointed.
It might have been enough to snap Jennifer back to reality, except the limo pulled up.
"Remind me to tell you all about the time we were in jail." She said to the group before turning out of Jonathan's arms. "And I made Jonathan strip for the female guard."
There was a pause, as if the girls weren't sure she was kidding, and then the laughter effervesced into the night sky. It took a few tries to get everyone into the limo but with two taps on the roof, Jonathan eventually sent them on their way back to the hotel.
It was quieter in the party's absence and Jonathan reached to lace their fingers together. Everything she wanted to do to him must have been evident on her face, because he tugged her forward with the obvious intention of kissing her again.
"Sir, your car." The valet appeared beside Jonathan holding out his keys. Jennifer's heart sank at the vehicle at the curb. Jonathan opened the door for her and caught her expression.
"What?" He asked, bewildered. Jennifer shook her head and slipped inside the small front seat of the Porsche 911 she's given him for his 60th birthday. It was a sexy car, but it was a car not particularly conducive to sex. Jonathan didn't drive it often and she was absolutely devastated to find he'd chosen tonight of all nights to bring her out.
She'd had plans.
Jonathan got behind the wheel and gave her an odd look. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"This is the wrong car." She explained, but the words were mournful. She felt like she was going to cry, which was definitely an overreaction.
"The wrong…car." Jonathan was very confused.
"Wrong." She smacked at the console between them, clearly dividing the bucket seats, as if that was all the explanation required.
"You…you bought me this car."
'I know." She said mournfully. "But it's the wrong car. For tonight."
"For tonight?" He, of course, was not at all drunk and the twisting turns of her logic and mood wer a bit more than he could follow. He didn't know that she'd had thoughts all night of scooting close beside him before settling her head in his lap. She wanted his hands twisted in her hair, his body straining for the release that only she could grant him. She planned to wait until they were in the driveway at home (she wanted to be a little irresponsible, not the kind that sent them back to jail) but now that fantasy was moot.
"Should have bought you another Jaguar." She mumbled fitfully. There was a time in the distant past, in his old Jaguar… the backseat was a tight fit but had worked out all right. Jonathan blushed every time they took it out, and he'd been unaccountably sad when it came time to sell it.
She'd dazzled him in that car, newly engaged and only just discovering the carnal delights of one another. She wanted to dazzle him again. Had been plotting it since she slipped out of the house, even before she'd had her first drink. If they didn't get home soon, she was certainly going to end up trying to relieve some of her own tension, and she didn't want Jonathan wrecking the car. Even if it wasn't the right car.
"Let's go home." She said, resting her forehead against the passenger window. "I'll think of something."