Click here to read excerpt from 2ManyCooks.
PROLOGUE
I can always get what I want; it’s a talent I come by honestly. I was the precious girl child whom everyone adored. I was raised with four older brothers, one father, one mother, one grandmother and one aunt who might have been nothing more than a waste of skin except that she provided my ticket out.
As I grew I learned how to manipulate any situation to my advantage. No matter how cute, smart and deferential I was my family was blind to my special talent. I became fluent in many cultures: male and female, old world and new, west coast Canadian and transplanted Greek. My parents thought they were raising Vancouver’s next great Greek Orthodox bride-to-be but their expectations did not and will never apply to me.
I could have been a Greek diva but my friends put a stop to that before I turned six. Liz, Catherine and Erinlee, my sisters beyond blood. The kindergarten mafia.
I have become a superb real estate agent, one of the best in the city. I make my clients feel as though they are all that matters, every waking minute. I know what that looks like. I know what that sounds like. I know what that feels like.
I know how seductive that can be.
ONE
The girls would crucify her but she couldn’t possibly walk away from that bouncing penis. The ancient Greeks had it right: there were so many things to ponder in the naked universe. Jason wiggled his hips so his cock whapped back and forth in time to the seductive jazz music that blared from the hotel channel. It flapped, again and again, between his left thigh and his right.
Whap, whap, whap, whap, whap, whap, whap.
She should have been dressed and out the door by now but she was mesmerized. Her body thrummed toward calm in the aftermath of a delicious orgasm. She stretched across the luxurious sheets, her eyes on the man she had first fallen for more than twenty-five years ago.
Both of them had aged well. His body was muscular. He was forty now and yet he still had a full head of walnut brown hair, hints of gray at the temples. His dark green eyes still had that McCartney-esque puppy dog quality that drew her in.
They were comfortable together. Their bodies fit and they knew the secret places that thrilled one another. Jason understood her body, which at almost forty was still pretty damned toned. He knew to kiss her thighs at first. He knew to touch everywhere but there. And then, oh and then, he knew how to lick lazy butterflies around, up and over toward a most satisfying climax.
Too bad it couldn’t last. It would take all her strength to give him up.
He abruptly ended his lewd dance. “And now the amazing Jason performs his death-defying leap.” He bounded from the floor on to the foot of the bed.
She looked up at him, her eyes hooded. “And what will the amazing Jason do for his next trick?”
“Behold!” He assumed the cheesy pose of a bodybuilder.
She giggled and assessed his scrotum which dangled enticingly but, overall, not much to write home about. Why were men so obsessed with testicles, anyway? What had they ever done for her? He turned around and wiggled his bottom. There was another body part she appreciated if only on an academic level. What was she going to do with his butt beside the odd slap in the heat of the moment? His penis, on the other hand, was magnificent and made her very happy.
Jason Urquhart was the ideal man in nearly every respect. Easy to look at. Handsome in a business pretty kind of way. And most appealingly, he didn’t encroach on her life too much.
He did have one serious flaw, a fatal flow, and for that she would have to let him go. It was all for the best. She wanted more out of a relationship and he couldn’t offer more. The truth was she didn’t want it.
Jason began his own unique version of a hula-dance. Georgia feigned interest and reviewed her to-do list for the busy day ahead. But he was on to her. He noticed her disinterest and lay beside her, his head against her feet. Georgia twinkled her cherry red toe nails.
“I’m going to miss you,” he said to her left foot.
“You, too.” For a lot longer than you think. She wrapped her arm over his muscled legs. She loved the manliness of his hairy leg. In that respect and that respect alone, she was a good Greek girl. None of that sissy-boy hairless leg crap for her.
“What’re you up to, today?”
“Nothing special.”
He scrolled his knuckles along the arch of her foot and kissed the tips of her toes. She lay back and ran through all the things she had to get done before she moved into Cornwall Towers:
Pick up those rubber do-hickies for the kitchen cupboards
Confirm meeting time with the cable TV tech
Double check about timing for Internet hookup
Call the painting contractor
Confirm the details of her move with the concierge at her
old building
Confirm the details of her move with the concierge at the
new building
Confirm arrival time of the moving van
Look for that guard thingy for the bottom of the shower door
She liked what Jason was doing to her feet but she was even more excited about the move. It seemed impossible that after waiting for more than two years she would actually be living there tomorrow.
Damn. She still had to write a memo to the developer. Some joker had stuck a cracked piece of marble on her brand new fireplace. The repair job was comical except that it was at her expense. The inspector told her she was being unreasonable when she asked for it to be replaced. She’d been called worse. The marble would be fixed. After all, she was Georgia Elias, the realtor who had just completed eleven sales at Cornwall Towers.
Ka-ching, ka-ching, ka-ching. Over the next twenty-four hours the money would fly through the banks and when it settled she would be mortgage-free. The thought soothed her and all the little irritants faded away. She sighed.
Jason sighed in reply. His fingers continued to tickle and massage the ball of her right foot.
She would start life anew at Cornwall Towers. No more sneaking around. No more secret rendezvous in hotel rooms. It was done. Over. Finished. She shouldn’t have spent the night with him. Last hurrahs were always a mistake. Affairs were always a mistake.
For the first time in her adult life she was ready for an authentic relationship. She no longer wanted a man who offered nothing more than a brief diversion once every couple of months. A healthy public fully committed relationship. That’s what she wanted; the very thought made her smile.
Jason smiled in return. His attention to her feet gathered urgency.
She knew something inside her had shifted; she craved something permanent. Before now, she had one foot out the door no matter who she was with or where she lived. She liked to say in love and in real estate she had an exit plan the day she moved in. Cornwall Towers would be the first home where she wanted to stay. Besides, this time there was no need to flip the property for a quick profit.
All that remained was to find the lucky man who would settle down alongside her. She planned to celebrate that fact with Catherine, Liz and Erinlee later this week. She couldn’t wait to show them her new home and tell them she finally wanted stability. They would be shocked at her change in attitude. She pushed away the little voice that added, And they’d be shocked if they knew you were having an affair with your old flame Jason. They would never forgive her for that.
Jason rubbed her calf muscles. Georgia half-heartedly stroked the hair on his legs and collected her thoughts. What else? There was something else she had to do today. Something fun.
Right. She was meeting Mac for a drink later this afternoon. That would be her treat at the end of the day. Mac McPherson was the best co-worker a realtor could hope for. She hadn’t actually seen him for weeks, but they were on the phone together every day, sharing news and confidences. After she gave up her space at the main office, they got into the habit of calling one another several times a day. They were loyal colleagues and in a competitive business like theirs, that meant a lot.
For instance, she could rely on him to serve her demanding clientele while she moved into her new condo. They shared the same approach, the same attention to detail, the same work ethic. Georgia had taken care of his clients just a few weeks ago when he took his new girlfriend, Trinity, to Maui for Christmas. But that was back when the market was slow; now things were heating up. She was asking a lot of him – Stop it, Georgia. Mac could handle it.
She sucked in her breath and told herself to let it go.
“MMmmmmmm,” Jason moaned in response. He slithered his tongue between her toes.
“MMmmmmmm,” Georgia replied. She actually enjoyed this particular maneuver. What did that say about her? It said she had to leave right now. She didn’t have time for more sex right now. She would get out of bed right now, shower and change, and break up with Jason on her way out the door. She tried not to think of the slow slip of her tailbone which seemed to have a mind of its own.
Go. Right. Now. She shot a look at the radio alarm clock. Seven o-five a.m. Ten more minutes. Jason Urquhart scratched an itch, that was all.
What was it she had been thinking about? Mac. She would not think about … she would think about …
Jason swirled his tongue around her baby toe and sucked it in and out of his mouth. Intellectually, of course, the act was absurd but Georgia had no control over her body’s reaction. Her tailbone continued to slyly buck and her hips threw in the odd wiggle.
Damn it to hell. Seven o-six. Okay, fourteen more minutes and that was it. She would end the affair. Her lost year would be over. No one would ever know that she had been seeing a married man and, even worse, lying to her girlfriends about it. She hated herself for what she had done. Jason had a wife, two kids and a fine life in Toronto. She had been a fool for thinking she could compartmentalize. A woman who behaved like this was no better than – Trinity.
What did Mac see in that idiot, anyway?
Jason took her big toe in his mouth. Of their own volition her hips wiggled from side to side, her backbone slipped up and down. It felt that good. She could no longer concentrate on Mac, her dislike for Trinity, cracked marble or her plans to bounce Jason from her life.
Her big toe was now fully inside his mouth. The sensation was incredible. She quickly discovered she could take that feeling beyond incredible when she imagined Mac literally at her feet. Mac was off-limits. Mac was taboo. She had a rule: no dating of co-workers allowed. Plus Mac was already in a relationship. As was the man she was in bed with right now.
She sighed at her remarkable moral flexibility.
Jason sighed his reply and turned his charm toward each of ten toes. It felt good but not as good as when he concentrated on her big toe. Was it possible that she had become a toe- sucking connoisseur?
He wasn’t into feet back in high school. Things had been quite innocent when they were in their mid-teens – lucky for him. If her brothers had caught on to their budding romance Jason might not have lived long enough – or retained the essential body parts – to marry, move to Toronto and sire two kids. He wouldn’t have a penis, butt or testicles to whap, wiggle and hula for her.
He kissed her ankles and she relaxed back into her to-do list. She absolutely had to call Catherine, Liz and Erinlee today. They needed to get together to plan their fortieth birthday trip and she had already cancelled out on them twice. All the subterfuge around her affair with Jason had turned her into a very bad girlfriend. That was about to change. She’d invite the girls over to see her new place. She’d take them out to Provence, her favorite restaurant, to celebrate. They would never ever find out that she had been sneaking off to the Wedgewood for secret rendezvous with the star of their high school soccer team.
Jason’s teeth grazed the pad of the big toe on her left foot. He had been her refuge from loneliness, one business trip at a time. After each of his visits she swore she would never see him again. It was wrong. If the girls found out – she shuddered to think what would happen to their friendship. They all had baggage. Erinlee was always fretting that her husband was sleeping around when he was on his business trips. As if Ed Meyers could attract anyone, living or dead. Liz’s husband Hiroshi was a cutie pie but he was not the type to fool around. He respected Liz – unlike her first husband, that adulterous creep. And Catherine’s husband was a lush. Georgia doubted he’d be able to do anything more than be the harmless letch she’d seen at the New Year’s Eve party.
Her toe disappeared into Jason’s mouth. She needed to spend more time… She needed… She wanted balance in her… She wanted to regain control of…
All thoughts vaporized in the wiggle of her hips, the slip of her tailbone and the arch of her back. She surrendered her body to his insistent butterflies. It would be so difficult to let him go.
Georgia walked briskly along Hornby Street, each step putting more distance between herself, the Wedgewood Hotel and Jason. She had so much to do before she moved into her new place – her new two thousand square foot waterfront condo in Yaletown. It felt as though all of Vancouver was under construction but Cornwall Towers was a jewel, one of the most prestigious buildings in the city. Georgia had snagged one of the best condominiums in the complex back when the project wasn’t even a hole in the ground.
The day she had signed the contract to claim it as her own, the price had taken her breath away. How had that little suburban girl grown into a woman who could do such a thing all by herself?
The usual way, the Georgia way, through sheer effort. She had a blazing career selling luxury real estate in downtown Vancouver. Big price tags, big profits. Her life now exceeded every one of the goals she had set for herself twenty years ago. Naturally, it meant sacrifice along the way. She had moved more than a dozen times, each home more impressive than the last and she had steadily increased her net worth. That kind of hard work ate into a girl’s playtime.
She gulped in the chilly morning air and walked against the tide of business suits heading north toward their offices. She checked her watch. There was more than enough time before her bank opened. She ducked into her favorite coffee shop, The Coffee Pot, a throwback to the fifties that Mac had introduced her to, and caught up on her messages.
The first voice mail was from Mac. “Hey, Georgia. I’m calling to say if you need any help with your move tomorrow, don’t call me. I’ll have my hands full taking care of your clients. See you at The Coffee Pot at five.”
She laughed. How much of her life had she spent conducting million-dollar deals in this little dive? Her current client roster was particularly high maintenance. There was a couple from London who wanted a fourth home in Vancouver; a family from Houston looking for a “little toe-hold in Vancouver” to suit their four children and a nanny; and a sun-baked Australian who had made his money in diamonds. He was a control freak who loved to use the term, “Money is no object.” Yeah, right. In her experience money always mattered. It was the object.
She knew Mac could handle them all. She appreciated his low-key approach to life, the way he heard what she didn’t say so she never had to explain herself. He was quite possibly the most perfect co-worker ever created. They had worked together long enough to read each other’s tones and twitches. Their relationship was strictly professional, except for that one minor slip at the Christmas party.
She returned his call. “Hey Mac.”
“How goes the battle?”
“Not so hot. That deal on Trafalgar fell apart yesterday.”
“One hour, sweet pea,” he said. “Wallow in your misery. Then move on.” Classic Mac. Trinity was one lucky woman; the very thought irritated her to the tips of her recently-thrilled toes.
“I’ll give that some serious thought,” she said, dryly. “See you at five.” Mac was a gem, a diamond. Trinity was Zircon through and through . What exactly did he see in her? At the company Christmas party Trinity’s only contribution to the conversation had been her weekly manicure. She was against acrylic nails. She believed in gel nails all the way. Georgia had stuffed down the urge to ask about her other beliefs. Santa, for instance and the Easter Bunny. Trinity, we’re dying to know – what’s your position on the Tooth Fairy?
Mac was positively gorgeous that night. Tall, rumpled, comfortable and cute Mac had been polished into something she hadn’t noticed before: he was actually handsome. Instead of the usual tan pleated slacks that screamed I’m over fifty! he was wearing form-fitting dress slacks. Black, flat-front. And that cashmere sweater emphasized his square build and his blue eyes. When he invited her onto the crowded dance floor for a slow dance Georgia felt a slight hesitation. He took her in his arms and she felt the heat rise.
Their hands were in the right places, their bodies a dignified distance from one another but she could not convince herself that this was just an innocent dance. She went home early that night and did some serious soul-searching about her life. She didn’t like the woman she saw in the mirror. Even if Mac was interested in her – and he wasn’t – she didn’t deserve him. That was the night she made the decision to get her priorities in order and become a better human being.
Nice thought, but here it was, four weeks later, and she still hadn’t broken things off with Jason. Honestly, what was wrong with her? If her brothers found out they’d kill Jason but if the girls found out they would kill her. She could imagine their disappointment. The thought of losing their friendship chilled her. Catherine, Liz and Erinlee were more family than family.
She tapped out a text message to Jason: No more. There. It was done.
2ManyCooks
Before you begin to cook,
treat yourself to a couple of
Appetizers
CINDY
He looks me up and down. “Cindy. You look good.”
When will it not feel strange to be around the man who was my husband for sixteen years? Too late, I realize I’m not wearing any makeup. And I haven’t changed out of that figure-annihilating combo I tossed on this morning – a white cotton cable knit sweater of uncertain vintage over a pair of baggy-ass grey sweats.
I can do this. I can be an adult. I can ignore the woman sitting in his car. “Do I detect a bit of sarcasm?”
“Hell no.” He appraises my body as though I’m up for auction. “How much have you lost?” Ever the self-possessed smooth talker.
I remind myself that our children are here. The boys, it’s all about the boys. They’re looking forward to a month with their dad. Away from everything familiar. Just the three of them, crammed into Blair’s tiny apartment. I take a deep breath. “So tell me what’s happening. Ben just said something about you guys going to Florida?”
“I’m glad you know about that, Cin. Remember I told you that my cousins in Tallahassee were planning a family reunion?
A family reunion? Not a glimmer of recognition. You’d think I’d remember a plan to take our children clear across the continent. But, nope. Nothing. What I do remember, however, is seventeen years ago, on the way home from our honeymoon in Bermuda, we visited Blair’s relatives in Tallahassee. And now he’s taking her.
“Well, everything fell into place and it looks like we’re going to Florida. Y’know, what the hell, if we’re in Tallahassee, I might as well take them to Disney World, right? And the Kennedy Space Center and Cape Canaveral…NASA, whatever the hell they call it these days.”
The air goes still. “How long?” I whisper. I know the answer but I have to ask. It’s like looking at the corpse splattered on the sidewalk and asking, Is she dead?
“Probably the month. Actually, yes, about four weeks.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets with practiced carelessness. “We leave Monday night and get back on the thirtieth.”
“You get back on the thirtieth? The thirtieth?” My hands fly up as though they belong to someone else. “I won’t see the boys for the entire month? Are you serious?”
My head will not stop shaking its no no no no no.”
You can’t always get what you want
But if you try sometime
you just might find
you get what you need
–Mick Jagger and Keith Richard
THERESA
Last night Jim came home at 6:45.
He immediately changed his clothes. Off with the black suit, white shirt and ruby red silk tie. A quick shower, then on with his signature chocolate brown golf shirt and olive khakis. His reappearance in the formal dining room, where Taylor and I were already seated, signaled the start of dinner at 7:05.
As I had instructed, Jasmine prepared Jim’s favourite meal. Beef bourguignon. Because Lord know we can’t have beef stew. The only difference between the two, as far as I could tell, was the addition of a little brandy and red wine. Not too much wine, of course, because Jim had a rule for that, too. Never more than one glass of wine on a weekday.
He swirled, inhaled and sipped his burgundy. It took him thirty-five bloody minutes to drink that single glass.
He asked me about my day.
He asked Taylor about her day.
We talked about my most recent purchase. An apartment building. When I shop, I shop big.
We talked about Taylor’s social studies project on polar bears.
We talked about Jim’s day at work. He was gaga over some upcoming auction. Canadian art. The theme was something like Inuit art or landscape. It could have been the Greats of Finger-painting or Masters of Macaroni and Glue for all I cared.
At 7:58 he went to the family room where he flipped on the business news channel. He read The Economist and reviewed spreadsheets from the auction house. He sent a few e-mails from his laptop. My multi-tasking man.
At 10:39 he returned to our bedroom where he changed once again. Off went the chocolate brown golf shirt and olive khakis. On went the pyjamas. Only the pyjama bottoms, never the pyjama top. He stopped by the bathroom mirror where he made love to his well-toned torso. I would give him that. For a man of nearly fifty-four he still had the kind of build that made a woman look twice.
Even me.
By 11:06 we were in bed together. His hands roamed my body with infuriating accuracy. I don’t know what time it was when he disappeared beneath the sheets and brought me to a climax that had me weak, shuddering and utterly his. And when he entered me, I wanted him.
That son of a bitch.