Page 168 of Broken Brothers

“Relax,” I said. “It was just a joke. Let’s have some fun, OK?”

She nodded, kissed me again, and walked hand in hand into the theatre.

Layla was more than accomplishing her mission by the time intermission rolled around—we were about three glasses of champagne in, certainly not enough to get drunk off of but enough that surface-level inhibitions were removed, resulting in me realizing even more that I just wasn’t bothered by being backin this place. Yes, I could look at individual spots in the adjoining banquet hall or in the lobby and see where individual events had happened.

But those just didn’t matter. It wasn’t like Edwin Hunt was going to pop up, haunted house style, and ruin me again. The only surprise of the night was going to be where we went next, not who I was with or what their intentions were. I could just let new memories form, as Layla had said, and let the rest fall into place.

And it helped that when the musical ended, there were no great betrayals, just an overcoming of tough situations.

Layla led me out, her hand still in mine, to the same limo.

“So where to now, my wonderful planner?”

“Planner, huh? Is that what I’ve moved to?”

“Hey, you’re the boss tonight.”

They were words that I “regretted” immediately. I felt such “shame” that I had given so much power to Layla. This was going to end so “badly” for me.

Oh, the “horror!”

“Is that so?” she said, a seductive smile coming over her face. “Better be careful. You never know what a boss is going to tell you to do. That’s why you formed your own company, right?”

“Uhh… yeah…” I said as she strummed her fingers on the inside of my thigh, coming mighty close to my stiffening member.

But before she got too close, she pulled back and leaned against me.

“Can’t do anything like that too early,” she said. “Not where we’re going next.”

I did not get the chance to ponder what that would be, because the limo driver stopped right then. I looked out the window and laughed.

“This place, huh?”

“I thought we could do a better job of making sure our stay was a bit… cleaner, let’s say,” she said. “I’m not just in the business of under the table favors, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” I said, even though coming back here made me hard every time I saw it, thinking about how good Layla stroking me had felt.

If the previous place had required me to overcome the emotional remains of being scarred, this would require me to overcome the emotion of lust. That almost certainly meant that while Layla was more flirtatious at the theatre and lobby than our first rodeo there, she probably wasn’t going to be flirting as much here as before.

Damn,I thought, snapping my fingers in mock disappointment.

We went down into the speakeasy, where, just like last time, we had the place almost entirely to ourselves. I saw the booth where all of the erotic release had taken place and immediately grabbed a seat while Layla went to the bar. Seeing me there, she just rolled her eyes with a grin before turning her attention back.

When she came back to the table with two gin and sodas, she deliberately sat across from me, so far away that her hands could not possibly reach me.

“So I guess it’s going to be a foot job today, huh?” I said with a wink. “We’re gonna try everything here?”

“Chance,” she said, just enough of a tone in her voice that I knew I had to drop the sex talk. “You know how I am. But I brought you here so we could just talk. Nothing more.”

Though no man liked to hear a woman downplay his sexual advances and moves, most especially a woman that he had already spoken to and slept with, I understood this wasn’t rejection so much as it was gently pressing the brakes. The light was turning yellow, but only so that it could eventually cycle back to green.

“Understood,” I said, holding out my drink. “To new beginnings, eh?”

“To new beginnings,” she said, clinking her glass against mine as we gently pounded the table and took a sip of ours.

Then, almost running counter to what she had just said, she scooted over to me. I began to course with excitement and arousal as I contemplated what might be about to happen. My skin crawled with anticipation, hoping, begging, yearning for her to touch me there as she had before.

And then she touched my thigh, and though I’d never come before in my pants from a mere touch, I’d be lying if I said that the thought didn’t occur to me or that I had seemed to come mightily close to that happening right there.