The Fling Read online

  “Everything you ever wished for?” Oksana asked after some time. Annie glanced up and met Oksana’s eyes before settling her gaze on Oksana’s tight stomach. She started tracing the pattern of the birch bark tattoo on Oksana’s right side. They hadn’t discussed cuddling, but she didn’t want to move. She was warm, and Oksana’s touch along her shoulder was just as soothing as it was unexpected.

  “Yes,” Annie answered truthfully. “And just so you know, because of its awful placement, I think we’re obligated to fuck on that desk.”

  Oksana’s body shook as she laughed again. “We can do that.”

  Annie sat up and bit her lip. “Let’s do it now.”

  *

  A text alert pulled Annie out of a deep sleep. She rolled over in the unfamiliar bed and the night, the whole night, came rushing back to her. She smiled and stretched, rubbing her thighs together and contemplating getting herself off just once before she headed to work. She had plenty of mental material to work with now.

  Her cell went off again. Annie reached for her phone then smiled at the words that lit up the screen.

  No fantasy should have an awkward morning after. I’ll see you soon. And yes, I had a great time.

  Chapter One

  The Reality…Slightly Altered

  by Several Glasses of White Wine

  Drunk didn’t feel right, but it suited Annie’s mood. She took another gulp of her chilled Moscato, swirling the fruity wine around in her cheeks as she pulled up Jeff’s itinerary on her BlackBerry. Dublin, Amsterdam, Berlin, and then a few days “drying out” in Paris before heading back to the states. Four more weeks before her fiancé was back in town.

  If only she could stay drunk the entire time.

  As it stood, Annie was nine months into what her mother insisted be a yearlong engagement to photographer Jeff Treeder. That engagement had been the start of this whole messy situation, and ultimately, the cause of this evening’s intoxication.

  They’d met years ago, when Annie was fresh out of USC. She was a production assistant on some B movie, and Jeff had offered to do the stills for free to build his portfolio. The first day, they’d chatted while balancing their lunch plates on their knees. Two days later, Jeff walked Annie to her car and kissed her. A week after that, they spent the night fucking on her new futon.

  The weeks and months between their first time together and the sunny July afternoon when Jeff proposed to her on the beach passed so quickly, so easily. They never fought, gave each other space and freedom. He was her best friend and the best lover she’d ever had. Not that she’d been with a ton of people before him, but Jeff was definitely the one for her. She proudly wore the ring he’d slipped onto her finger.

  Thanks to her mother’s thirst for extravagance and her maid of honor’s freakish talent for organization, their wedding ceremony would be King James traditional and the reception Martha Stewart perfect with a Laguna Beach twist. It had been Annie’s idea for the two of them to do one thing that her mother had no control over. There would be no bachelor or bachelorette parties. Those functions were lame and outdated. At least that was Annie’s justification for what she really wanted, and her future hubby was completely on board with her proposed alternatives.

  Instead of getting wasted in Vegas, Jeff opted for thirty days traveling around Europe with some buddies on the promise that Annie wouldn’t ask any questions once he was back. Her bridesmaids—Megan, Shane, and Feather—thought she was nuts, letting Jeff go off to do God knows what while she sat at home. But Annie hadn’t let herself get screwed out of the fun. She’d taken full advantage of her freebie.

  One night where she would allow herself to indulge in her longtime fantasy. No veils covered in little plastic dicks. No oiled guys in G-strings. Just one perfect night, just for Annie.

  In the beginning, she didn’t know where to start. Craigslist couldn’t be trusted, and she wasn’t sure if she actually wanted to hit the bars. She had a few gay acquaintances, but none she was attracted to. None but her trainer, the very woman assigned to trim Annie down for said wedding.

  Annie wasn’t surprised by how beautiful her personal trainer was. It was Los Angeles, after all. Head shots were attached to résumés at McDonald’s. She and Annie were nearly the same age, right on the cusp of thirty, but where Annie had traded on her traditionally Anglo good looks, Oksana’s exotic appearance grabbed your attention, whether you wanted it to or not.

  Minutes after meeting her, Annie had to ask where Oksana was from and who had donated the DNA to her light brown skin and her vibrant eyes that reminded Annie of fresh clover. Oksana kept her hair buzzed close to her head, but after seeing it grown out a bit, Annie had to know how someone with her gorgeous skin tone ended up with brown hair that seemed to radiate with wisps of blond in the sunlight. The answer had been a Russian mother and a West African father, but knowing the science didn’t diminish the effect she had on Annie. It took three sessions for Annie to get over what was going on from the shoulders up and a few more to get over the intimidation created by Oksana’s body.

  Her breasts were perfectly shaped, and Annie now knew, deliciously pierced. Her waist seemed impossibly small and her hips and her butt round in a way that could make other women and Barbie dolls worldwide jealous. Oksana was one of those people who shouldn’t exist. It wasn’t fair to all the plain girls out there to have to compete with her for attention, but she didn’t resent Oksana’s beauty. In a weird way, Annie was drawn to it, long before they’d come to this agreement. Weeks before she knew Oksana was gay.

  Oksana had whipped her into shape in no time. Annie didn’t have much to lose, but now thanks to their bi-weekly sessions, her stomach was super flat and her arms flab free for the bouquet tossing. And in that time they’d become sort of close. Annie didn’t know a lot about her, but she liked their sessions together, even if they were grueling. She liked the occasional quick phone call they shared. The silly texts here and there.

  Annie didn’t have a real confidant. There were certain things you couldn’t just come out and say to your boyfriend. She could tell Megan anything, within reason, but not this. Megan wasn’t homophobic exactly, but she wouldn’t understand what Annie wanted and why. She wouldn’t understand it was possible to be genuinely bisexual. Like a good hairdresser, though, Annie felt like she could share this little secret with her personal trainer. She trusted Oksana, and boy, was she glad she did. She was nervous the day she blabbed her plan to Oksana. Annie wanted to spend one night, one perfect, sex-filled night with another woman.

  It wasn’t cheating. She and Jeff had agreed that whatever they did on their night of freedom, or month in his case, was a complete and utter pass. Oksana was shocked at first, but she warmed to the idea quickly, even applauded Annie for wanting to do something different from the typical night of drunkenness with her girlfriends.

  That night after their session, Annie walked to her car, her stomach flopping anxiously as she heard Oksana call her name from across the parking lot. She was glad she’d told someone, but she was no closer to finding a playmate, no closer to actually executing her plan. She’d turned to see Oksana jogging in her direction.

  “Annie,” she breathed as she reached Annie’s Prius. “I’ll do it.”

  “Do what?” Annie had asked, shocked because she knew the answer.

  “I’ll be…the one. If you want.”

  “You’ll sleep with me?” They had laughed. It sounded crazy out loud. Who the hell planned these sorts of things? Annie did, that’s who. She had no interest in picking out flowers and nailing down a DJ for the reception, but she still liked her own plans to be tight and flawless. Her mother had taught her that much.

  “Yeah.” Oksana shrugged. The confidence she usually had in the gym was gone, replaced by this raw eagerness. To Annie it was so sexy. “Could be fun.”

  “I think so,” Annie had replied, trying not to choke on her tongue. Oksana was perfect. Beautiful. Nice. Gay. She wasn’t a murderer. She’d seen Annie
sweating her ass off and hadn’t been completely repulsed. She was willing. And most importantly, she didn’t hate Annie for having this idea in the first place. Annie knew how it sounded. That she was just looking for some easy gay girl to try out her bi-curiosity on, but that wasn’t it. She wanted someone who wanted her, just for that night and someone she would want too. Mutual, consensual fun.

  “Okay.” Annie beamed up at her. “Let’s do it.”

  So they decided, after giggling some more at Annie’s last choice of words. Oksana requested the night to fit with her morning training schedule. Annie booked the room. And a week later, twenty-four hours after Jeff flew out of LAX, Annie found herself four stories above downtown L.A. in a junior suite of The Hilton Checkers Hotel, the perfect place for their sexual rendezvous. A safe distance from Oksana’s stomping ground of West Hollywood. Miles away from Annie’s home in Venice.

  The night had been flawless, hot, and intoxicating. In the end, all Annie wanted was more time to explore Oksana’s body, more time to drown in her kisses. That should have been the first sign. This whole affair was meant to last one night. One night only, but almost a full day later, Annie couldn’t get Oksana out of her mind. The text messages they’d exchanged throughout the day weren’t making things any easier. She had plenty to distract her, but all those distractions revolved around a certain wedding. A wedding for some reason she was suddenly dreading.

  Annie swallowed hard as the thought and the emotion and the flood of anxiety that rushed over her skin like an eerily cool breeze all met in the pit of her stomach. The mix sent the kung pao chicken surfing in her gut.

  Another glass of wine sounded like a super idea, and then as she poured well to the top of the glass, Annie thought it would be best to play another round of the blame game. With a flick of her thumb, she pulled up their text conversation. For this portion of the tournament, the judges found that Oksana was at fault. Oksana had sent the first text of the day, and even if it had been somewhat of a “see you later-good-bye-ish” text, if Oksana hadn’t sent that stupid thing in the first place, Annie would have never replied with: Not awkward at all. You should have stayed.

  Then Oksana never would have replied with: O rly?

  Annie never would have giggled like a fool as she walked to the hotel shower and she’d never have texted back as she waited for the water to warm up. Rly. The shower is pretty big.

  Maybe next time was the returned text that made Annie freeze, one step away from the sink. There was not going to be a next time, but at that moment, Annie knew a next time was exactly what she wanted. And now a good way to being shitfaced, sitting on her couch surrounded by take-out and bridal magazines, Annie mumbled the same thought that had passed through her head earlier that day.

  Why did she text Oksana back?

  That moment, that text, was the text that should have ended this part of their relationship. Annie should have brought them both back to reality, back to their respective roles as client and trainer, a professional relationship that was due to end in exactly two and a half months. Maybe a full three if Annie kept burying her sorrow and confusion in whole bottles of wine and Chinese food. Not to mention the Ben and Jerry’s she’d been hoarding for her next cheat day.

  She scrolled through the list of electronic bits of forbidden lust. Lust was the right word. Not love. Only pathetic virgins and desperate teen boys fell in love with the person—or in this case, the unearthly angel of beauty and cardiovascular fitness—who’d popped their cherry. Annie was not in love, but she was certainly pathetic. So pathetic she was actually considering texting Oksana again. Why stop now, right?

  Back and forth all day, through payroll, through Annie’s lunch break, the Single Dads scheduling meeting, and immediately after a brief call with her mom. Annie assumed between Oksana’s other training sessions, they couldn’t seem to stop with the texting. Oksana’s nightly dinner with her grandmother and her little sister was the only reason they weren’t swapping messages now.

  Oksana had only mentioned her small family of three a few times before. Like a good trainer, she kept most of their conversations focused on Annie, but that hadn’t stopped Annie from wondering every now and then what the grandmother and the kid sister were like.

  The image flooded Annie’s mind—the sweet, understanding old woman who loved Oksana for exactly who she was, tattoos and all. And the adorable little sister, fourteen years old or so, perked up in her chair, passing dinner rolls to Oksana as she gleefully recounted her day at school. It wasn’t middle America perfect, but it was Oksana perfect, and Annie realized that she was fucking crazy for dreaming up Oksana’s personal life and even crazier for maybe, a little bit, wanting to be a part of it.

  Annie squinted at the lilac polish on her ring finger and the diamond below then shook her head trying to blur the thoughts away.

  Jeff. Jeff was the focus. His rugged good looks. His adorable hipster flare. His gorgeous brown eyes and sweet smile. Jeff had tattoos too. Sexy tattoos that Annie loved. She knew what each one stood for. The Joker on his shoulder showed his dedication to his favorite DC villain. The orchid on his chest was in honor of his late aunt, and the enormous dragon on his back was a commissioned piece from his favorite local artist. Some of the other smaller pieces on his arms and legs were a little silly to Annie, like the Road Runner on his calf (his best friend sported Wile E. Coyote on the other leg.) Okay, the Road Runner was really stupid and kind of unattractive, but it suited the whole Jeff package. A package Annie would love unconditionally until death do them part.

  Oksana’s tattoos were similar in a way. All tattoos were. Annie didn’t have any, but she thought maybe one day she would get one, if she could find some symbol to commit to for life. One like Oksana’s that mixed with her femininity. Oksana was definitely femme.

  Annie paused for a moment. Femme was the right word. Or was it lipstick lesbian? It didn’t matter for this particular conversation, but except for her shaved head, Oksana had a very feminine, almost dainty air about her. That femininity made her hard-edged tattoos that much more intriguing.

  The large Cyrillic letters (Annie had looked that up as soon as she got to work) that ran up Oksana’s left side, the cutout of the heart on her hard bicep that followed a dashed trail over her armpit then over the curve of her breast and stopped at its exact match, right above her heart. The heart didn’t have the typical bulbous curves or the anatomical structure of some of the heart tattoos Annie had seen before. It was all hard lines. Two boxes at the top converging at a pointed base.

  See, Annie wasn’t that drunk. “Converging” was still part of her vocabulary. She still had her words. There were sunflowers too, in gray and black, and that really cool birch bark that blended into her skin on her right side. More words, more pictures, two silhouettes of grizzly bears on either wrist, and the inner workings of a clock, but the heart had intrigued her the most. She never got a chance to ask about it. Her mouth had always been full of some part of Oksana, blocked by her own screams of pleasure. Oh, it had been one perfect night for sure, but not enough to wipe out the lifetime she had planned with Jeff.

  Annie rolled her head off the back of the couch and eyed the clock on the DVR box.

  A lifetime is a long time.

  “Ugh!” Annie groaned, pounding the sofa with her fist. “Anne. Please get your shit together. You are marrying Jeff. You are marrying Jeff. You love Jeff.”

  In twelve weeks, she would be walking down the aisle toward an amazing guy. They hadn’t exactly discussed it yet, but eventually they would have their own cute kids. No doubt much cuter than any Oksana-related little sister. Jeff wasn’t much for sentiment or sit-down dinners, but he would make an excellent father. An excellent father and an excellent husband. Twelve weeks and Annie would have her happily ever after.

  And in the meantime…

  Annie glared at her phone. In the meantime, Annie would become an alcoholic. Or find a new trainer. Yeah, the new trainer thing was a great idea. A gu
y trainer. An ugly guy trainer with an ugly face and a killer body. A gay guy trainer with a really ugly face that Annie would never, ever considering sleeping with whether she had an agreed upon ho pass from Jeff or not. That would solve all her problems. New trainer, never see Oksana again, never have to look at her beautiful supple mouth again. Work off all this take-out and the seven thousand calories of wine, keep it off, then marry Jeff.

  “You’re a genius, Anne,” she slurred cheerfully, holding her glass up in the air.

  A moment later, her cell phone vibrated in her other hand. Annie closed her eyes and prayed this spiraling nightmare would just end already.

  “Please be Megan. Please be Megan.” She opened one eye, then the other, and calmly set her wine glass down on the table. Then she looked down at her phone.

  It wasn’t Megan.

  I have to call it an early night. Sweet dreams. Annie could almost hear Oksana breathing the words.

  “Sweet dreams, my ass,” Annie grumbled, sneering at her phone.

  That’s when it dawned on her. This was a test. A test from the matrimony gods. She worked in television, and movies before that, and not once had she given in to random advances from crew guys and grabby producers, not even the cute ones, because she had Jeff. No other guy compared to him in her eyes. But Oksana presented something new and fresh. Unexpected. Oksana was different, her body a different kind of temptation. Oksana had boobs and killer legs. If Annie could sleep with someone like Oksana, if she could let Oksana kiss her, let her soft hands explore every inch of her body, she could surely turn the other cheek, figuratively of course, and walk right into a peaceful, long marriage.