Friday Night

Venice Beach, CA

April Valenzuela wasn’t going anywhere. No matter how pissy and bad tempered her cousin Richie got, she was staying right where she was--seated at the ridiculously well-lighted, stage-side table in the otherwise dimly lit club. It was Richie who had suggested the table. In fact, it had been Richie who’d suggested this entire night of bar hopping in the first place. He’d dragged her all over the LA Basin, hitting one sleazy nightspot after another, finally landing them here, at this mostly forgettable Venice Beach dive where April had at last discovered something--make that someone--yummy enough to make the whole sorry evening worthwhile.

The lead guitarist of the band currently reigning over the bar’s small stage was easily the best thing she’d seen in at least the last year and a half. Even scruffily dressed in a faded black T shirt that accentuated broad shoulders and a nice pair of pecs; and torn jeans that molded enticingly around the impressive bulge at his crotch, he was breathtaking. With his tall, sinewy build, devilish smile and angelic, golden curls, he took hot to a whole ‘nother level.

And the way he played! Well, that was taking April to another level, as well.

She wasn’t sure how he did it. Maybe it was the way he held the neck of his guitar. Maybe it was some complicated picking technique. Whatever it was, it was fan-fucking-tastic. She sat mesmerized, watching his fingers coax music from the strings, feeling every one of those delicious notes as they vibrated deep inside her, making her clit throb and her nipples bead tight. She’d bet anything it was intentional.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Richie whined again.

“Not a chance.”

You couldn’t really climax simply from listening to someone play guitar, could you? The longer the god of grunge rock played, the less certain April became. For the sake of research alone, she owed it to herself to stay and find out. She gestured at the empty glasses on the table in front of them. “Look, Richie, if you’re that restless, why don’t you go get us some fresh drinks? It’ll do you good to stretch your legs.”

“I don’t want another drink,” Richie protested stubbornly. “And you should have had enough by now too.”

But he really ought to have known her better than that. April would decide for herself what constituted enough. And never in a million years would she admit to the faint wooziness that made her legs feel like rubber. Yet another reason not to try and navigate her way to the door right now. “Richie. Go.”

Scowling furiously, Richie pushed away from the table. “Bitch,” he muttered under his breath as he headed for the bar.

April shrugged. “Wow, how original.” She was a bitch, damn it, and even though she wouldn’t be caught dead wearing one of those flashy gold necklaces that proclaimed it to the world, she was proud of it. It was a quality she’d developed young, it was what helped her survive the cut-throat family politics she’d had to endure following the death of her parents. It was precisely the reason her grandfather had chosen her to inherit the bulk of his estate when he died six months ago, much to her remaining relatives’ continued dismay.

So, if Richie didn’t like it, he could kiss her ass. She had no illusions about why he’d invited her out tonight. No doubt he was hoping to hit her up for money. It was the same ploy his father had used only last week, inviting her to lunch with him at his club, and then asking for a loan.

“It’s not really a loan, though, is it?” she’d pointed out. “I mean, that would imply you were planning on paying me back.”

“I suppose that’s true,” George had replied dryly. “However, I didn’t think you’d be as amenable if I’d called it a gift. Still, I can’t imagine that my favorite niece would really want to see me lose the business I’ve poured my heart’s blood into, simply because her grandfather didn’t understand the ramifications of what he was doing when he drafted his will.”

George’s favorite and only niece smiled sweetly. “I guess we’ll never know what Papi had in mind, will we?”

In all likelihood, April knew that her uncle was right. Her grandfather probably would have bailed him out of trouble. But then, April was also pretty certain that George would never have dreamed of subjecting his father to the continual humiliation to which he’d treated April during the last few years. Her love affairs scrutinized. Her most casual dinner dates subjected to background checks. Not to mention the embarrassment of having her lovers confronted--usually in flagrante delicto--with the evidence of their perfidy.

“I know you don’t like me to rush into anything, Uncle George. Not without investigating it first. So, I’ll get back to you after I’ve had a chance to check things out.”

A little turnaround. That’s only fair play, isn’t it?

Fair or not, George hadn’t taken being turned down well, and most likely Richie wouldn’t like it much either. But that was just too bad and, come to think of it, if that’s how it was going to be, they could both kiss her ass. She’d allowed them to maintain their comfortable quarters in the family mansion because they were family, because she knew that’s what Papi would have wanted, and because, frankly, it suited her to do so.

The thought of living all alone in that big house, with no one but the servants for company, was almost enough to give April hives. As far as family went, George and Richie weren’t much, but they were all she had. Still, enough was enough! She was at least as smart as either of them and she was through being played for a fool.

Just then, the guitarist launched into another of those wicked little riffs that practically had her coming in her seat. She squirmed restlessly as heat pulsed inside her, then gasped in surprise when her pussy clenched. Damn. Almost. When she raised her gaze to his face, the sultry smile that lit up his eyes only reinforced what her own intuition had already told her. He knew just what he was doing to her, and loving every second.

Not that she wasn’t enjoying it even more herself, of course. Her eyes narrowed down to tiny little slits as she felt her labia soften and swell. Heaving a sigh, she reclined in her seat, the better to feel the sensations as they washed through her.

Since this was all the enjoyment she was going to get from him, April decided to make the most of it. “Ooh, yeah, bring it, baby,” she murmured as she stretched, arching her back, raking her fingers through her hair. The movement caused her breasts to strain against the sheer burgundy fabric of her blouse, riveting his gaze.

That’s better, she thought, smiling slyly, watching as his eyes grew dark. You like that, do you? Good. Let’s see what you think of this. As her fingers traced the neckline of her blouse, skimming lightly over the curves of her breasts, she longed for the courage to slip her fingers beneath the filmy silk, to massage their aching tips. Or, better yet, to slide a hand between her legs, and help things along. But she wasn’t that brave.

She would have liked to take her new playmate home with her, too; to strip him out of those clothes and find out how much of that bulge was for real, to dig her nails into those broad shoulders, to test her teeth against those taut pecs. But all of that was out of the question. She knew only too well what would happen if she tried it. She supposed she really ought to thank her uncle for that insight.

It didn’t really matter how hot this guy was, or how good they might be together. One look at the manse, and he’d find himself falling madly in love all right--but with April’s money, not her. She’d been there before, too many times, and she’d learned her lesson well. Now, she restricted herself to dating only the equally wealthy. It was safe, if boring, and it led to her spending far too many nights alone, which was the main reason she’d accepted Richie’s invitation.

“Here.” Two glasses slammed down on the table in front of her. Her cousin directed a venomous scowl toward the stage as he regained his seat. The guitarist turned away, engaging the bass guitarist in a musical duel. Disappointed, April sat up straight, letting her hair fall forward, hoping to disguise the flush in her cheeks.

“Thanks a lot,” she muttered as she reached for her glass. The suspicious gleam in Richie’s eyes as he studied her face surprised her. What was that about? Could he sense her arousal? She sipped her drink and nearly gagged at the caustic taste. “Omigod, what is this swill? It’s awful!”

“Tequila Sunrise,” Richie replied waspishly. “Given the hillbilly ambience of this place, I figured you’d appreciate the irony.”

“Well, they need to open a fresh bottle of orange juice, or something, because this stuff has turned.”

Richie raised an eyebrow. “Really? Mine tastes fine. Why don’t you try it again, maybe it’s you.”

April gazed at her cousin doubtfully. Since Richie was even more of a food and wine snob than she was, the sight of him guzzling yet another mixed drink, with apparent pleasure, seemed just a little surreal. If there was anything even slightly off about the taste of his drink, everyone in the bar would know it by now. She pursed her lips around the straw once more, and tried again. The drink still tasted strange, but perhaps it wasn’t the orange juice, after all. “Can grenadine go bad?” she asked her cousin.

Richie shrugged. “How would I know? Just drink it, okay? And then let’s get out of here.”

“Mmm. Not just yet,” she murmured. She had finally succeeded in making eye contact with the guitarist once again. She ignored the faintly unpleasant taste of her drink and the tingling numbness in her mouth. It felt like her tongue had been coated with plastic, but she sucked greedily, pausing now and again to lick her lips--just to give him ideas.

He smiled appreciatively, but with a faint shake of his head he let her know that playtime was over. By the time April’s glass was empty, she was pouting.

“Now can we go?” Richie asked as she put her empty glass down with a frustrated sigh. Before she could answer, her cousin’s cell phone rang. He took it from his pocket and glanced at it. “Shit,” he muttered as he got to his feet. “I gotta take this. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Frowning, April turned to watch her cousin as he headed for the door. Something was up. She’d recognized the number. Richie was a little old for a curfew, so why was he getting calls from his father at this time of night?

Scattered applause from the surrounding tables alerted her to the fact that the band had finished playing. So soon? She glanced toward the front just in time to see the guitarist hop from the stage and head straight for her table. Her heart started to pound and, all at once, an odd, dizzy feeling came over her. Her vision blurred. What’s going on, she wondered, as she swayed in her seat. I can’t be that drunk, can I?

“So,” he said as he pulled out the chair opposite hers and sat down. “What’s it gonna be? Are we gonna play by the rules? Are you going to make me ask for your phone number, wait a few days, call you up and invite you out on a date? Or do you want to save some time and cut through all that crap? Leave with me now and let’s go someplace where we can carry through on some of those promises we’ve been making each other all night.”

The room seemed suddenly airless and what seemed like several minutes passed before his words filtered into April’s brain. She felt herself frown. “Promises?”

He flashed a dazzling smile. “That’s how I see it. Between what your eyes have been saying to me and my fingers have been doing to you, I figure either we owe each other a real good time, or we’re just a couple of teases. And, baby, I don’t know about you, but if there’s one thing I’m not, it’s a tease.”

April smiled back, faintly, trying to remember what she’d planned to say if he approached her, but her thoughts slipped lazily away. Did it really matter? He was here, he was hot, and leaving with him... was there a problem with that? None that she could see. “Okay, sure. Let’s go.”

His eyes widened first, then his smile followed suit. “Well, all right. You, uh...think you might need to say something to your date first? Like, Sayonara, or...”

April frowned. “My date?”

“Yeah. Guy you’re here with? Sour looking dude?”

“Oh!” She couldn’t help giggling at his description; maybe that’s why Richie hadn’t noticed anything wrong with his drink. “You mean my cousin? No, he’s gone away somewhere. Besides, we’re not really that close.”

“Your cousin? Well, all right, then.” Still smiling, the stranger got to his feet. “Shall we?” He held out his hand. April stared at it for a moment, waiting for understanding to dawn. Then she took it, and let him haul her to her feet.

He glanced at her in surprise when she stumbled and almost fell against him. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Mm-hm,” she murmured, blinking up at him.

“Yeah? You sure? You gonna be all right to ride on the back of my motorcycle?”

What nice eyes he has, April thought. His eyes were the purest sea green she’d ever seen. But they gazed at her questioningly, as though he were waiting for her to say something. “All right,” she repeated, smiling encouragingly. “Let’s go.”

“Okay,” he said as he helped her into her jacket. “If you say so. My name’s Zach, by the way.”

“April,” she replied, reveling in the touch when he placed a warm hand against the small of her back and propelled her toward the bar’s back door.

He shook his head. “Hold on, I can’t hear you. Wait ‘til we get outside.”

Cool, night air, fresh and slightly misty, wafted over April as they stepped through the door. She sighed blissfully as she breathed it in. Looking around, she was vaguely surprised to find herself in the alley where Richie had parked his Porsche. Where’d he go, she wondered, but without much interest. Is he still on the phone? Then Zach pulled her into his arms and kissed her, and she stopped thinking altogether.

His lips were warm, firm, oh-so-right. It had been too long since she’d been kissed, too long since a man had held her like this. How long, she wondered, but her thoughts felt muddled and hazy, and she couldn’t recall.

Zach was breathing hard when he broke off the kiss. “I still don’t know your name?”

The glow of the streetlight gilded his hair ‘til it blazed like a halo as it framed his face, and the heat in his eyes when he smiled at her left her dizzy. He looked like an... “Angel,” she murmured as she snuggled against his chest, hoping for another kiss.

Suddenly, an engine roared to life. Headlights blazed, all but blinding her. Her hands clenched in the fabric of Zach’s shirt. “Watch out!” she screamed as a car rushed toward them.

He pushed her hard, shoving them both from the car’s path. April felt the hot wind as it passed them, and then she was falling. Arms flailing, she reached for Zach but missed. The back of her head connected with the metal dumpster. Stars exploded inside her skull, entire galaxies spinning out of control.

“Ow,” she muttered as the pavement rose to meet her. And then the stars winked out, slowly, one by one, and she was left in darkness.