Hilary Fields - Bliss

“When there’s nothing to lose, and there’s nothing to prove…,” crooned Billy.

Nothing to lose, indeed. But perhaps quite a lot to prove.

“Fuck it,” she growled.

Sera grabbed the nearest dildo—a massive, fleshy pink dong studded with what she assumed were pleasure nubs, though they looked more like alien warts. She cranked up the volume on her iPod as high as it would go and started belting out the words to the song.

Using the wiener as a microphone.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh!” she yelled along with Billy, making a brat-punk face. And again, “Oh, oh, oh, oh!”

And suddenly Serafina was dancing. With herself.

The shop’s newly cleared floorboards served as her stage, and Sera let her freak flag fly. She strutted and whirled, doing her best Billy Idol impression. Lip curl: check. Head bob: check. Fist pump: oh hell yeah. It was just her, Billy, and the empty store, having a private moment. Sera’s chin-length hair flew about her sweat-dampened cheeks as she rocked out with her cock out. Dust rose in little puffs around her despite the sweeping she’d done, and the sun, breaking out from behind the clouds, speared in through the front window, giving Sera her own personal spotlight.

She shimmied her shoulders, raised her fists, and pumped her arms above her head until she was sweating as her Idol commanded. Billy reached the chorus, rasping and growling into her ears, reminding Sera she didn’t need anyone’s approval; she could meet her own needs. “With my record collection and the mirror’s reflection…,” she howled into the dong.

At the mention of mirrors, Sera’s glance caught the one along Pauline’s back wall. She strutted over to it, channeling Billy’s mojo, wailing the words of his hit into her improvised mike.

Its reflection, however, showed she was not dancing with herself. She was performing for an audience of two.

Or at least, one human, and one very curious puppy.

Asher and Silver were arrested just inside her doorjamb, both sets of eyes wide, both jaws unhinged.

“Ahhhhhhhh!” Sera screamed as she spun to face Asher. The dildo, sweat-slicked from her impromptu performance, slipped the bonds of her surprise-slackened fingers and went sailing across the store.

Smacking her landlord—bull’s-eye!—right in the chest.

Plunk! With a rubbery plop, the dong bounced off Asher’s pecs and landed on the floor. Silver—who seemed to have grown at least six inches since last she’d seen him—growled and pounced on it with delighted fury, grabbing it in his tiny teeth and gnawing for all he was worth. His husky head shook happily as he did his doggy damnedest to subdue his prey.

Sera yanked out her ear buds and came to a crashing halt in the middle of the store. Her hands flew to her lips in horror. Of all the ways she’d envisioned her next encounter with Asher Wolf occurring, this hadn’t even made the top five hundred.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Asher said mildly.

“Jesus, Asher,” she swore, “don’t sneak up on a girl like that!” Her cheeks bloomed with color, as they seemed so wont to do in his presence. She slunk over to where Silver was enjoying his unexpected snack. “C’mere, boy, drop the weenie,” she cajoled, but the pup was having none of it. He growled again and bared his teeth around his prize, backing up behind Asher to ward off her incursion.

Sera gave it up as a bad job. No way was she going to have a tug of war over a wiener with a half-pint puppy in front of her gorgeous—and too damn kissable—landlord. She pushed her unruly hair out of her eyes and dared a look up at Ash. He appeared to be biting his lip to keep from cracking up. An answering grin snuck up on her own lips. “Aw, shaddup,” she said finally, though he hadn’t spoken. “Let’s just pretend you never saw that, okay?”

“I’m not sure I can ever forget such an… impassioned… performance, Bliss,” he said, crossing his arms as though to keep the chuckles contained within his chest, “but I’ll do my best to keep it to myself.”

“Fair enough. You want something to drink?” she offered, heading behind the counter to give herself some space and let her blush die down. Her heart was hammering, and it wasn’t just from dancing. She felt giddy and awkward at the same time; less embarrassed about the performance Asher had just witnessed than the kiss on Friday that had sent him fleeing into the night. Still, on the whole, she had to admit she was glad to see him. “I’ve only got bottled water, unless you’re into Big Mama…”

She had to smile at his quick, alarmed shake of the head. He was hatless today, his old-gold hair cropped closer than it had been last week, very butch. Her fingers itched to test the fuzz on the back of his neck, feel the rough/smooth texture of that buzzed cut. “I’m fine, thank you, Bliss,” he said, crossing the room to stand closer. Only the mahogany cabinetry kept them apart, and he narrowed the distance by leaning his hip cozily against it. Lucky cabinet, Sera thought.

“I’d offer you a seat, but I’m afraid they’re all taken,” Sera apologized, gesturing at the armchairs that were occupied with the boxes and bags she’d packed up. She grabbed a bottle of water and guzzled to cool herself down, wetting a paper towel and running it across her cheeks to calm the fires raging there.

“No problem. I shouldn’t stay long in any case,” said Ash. “I’ve got a special order to finish for a customer who’s coming by this afternoon.”

“Oh,” she said, trying to keep the disappointment from her voice. She leaned her elbows on the worn countertop. His mirth at her Billy Idol imitation notwithstanding, she could tell Asher was uncomfortable with her today. He wasn’t meeting her eyes the way he used to. And she had no doubt about the cause. No way am I bringing up our kiss. Or his freaked-out reaction. Let him stew over it, she thought. I’ve got nothing to apologize for.

Apparently, Asher felt he did. “Bliss…” he began. Like a sudden storm cloud obscuring the sun, his expression grew somber, the light fading from his eyes. He looked harsher, older. He also looked more awkward than she’d ever seen him. Sera’s stomach clenched.

“Yeeesss…” she drawled when he didn’t continue. She tried to keep her teasing smile in place, but she had a feeling it was about to be dashed.

She was right.

“I’m sorry I kissed you,” Asher blurted out. He pushed away from the counter and started pacing, running a hand through his hair. “I should never have done that.”

Ow.

“Don’t worry,” Sera said through lips that had gone stiff. “I didn’t have any expectations.” She was shredding the paper towel unconsciously between her fingers. “I’m sorry for asking you to dance. It was inappropriate and you probably didn’t feel you could say no…”

She looked away, desperate to be anywhere but here, reminded of how much she was lacking as a woman. She recalled how she’d clung to Asher during their kiss, and how he’d been forced to gently but firmly disentangle himself from her clutches. Apparently, one kiss from her was enough to send her landlord racing for the hills, if his pained expression were to be believed.

By the open door frame, Silver whined, locked in a death match with the dildo. He’d wrapped his front paws around the dong and had the head in his mouth, while his back legs kangaroo kicked the shaft. I know a certain shithead chef I’d like to see receive that treatment, she thought, momentarily distracted. But thoughts of Blake only sent her mood crashing further. He’d always said she was a lousy lay—a lousy everything, except when it came to pastry. And it seemed he’d been right. Asher had found her kiss repulsive.

Tears burned behind her eyes. She clenched the damp paper towel in her fist, crushing what was left of it. She wished he would just leave. She wished a drink—or several—were still an option for her.

Asher ceased his pacing, his gaze arrested on her face. It must have been showing something of what she felt, because he lurched forward without a hint of his customary grace. Before Sera could react, he was catching her surprised hands in his rough, callused ones. Sera dropped the paper towel as her heart thundered.

“No,” he said. Forcefully. “No.” More gently this time. “Bliss, I don’t know what you are thinking at this moment, but whatever it is was not my intention.”

“I…” She didn’t know how to continue. His intentions, her perceptions, both were in a muddle and she wasn’t sure how to find her way back out. “Asher, I don’t know what to say here…”

“I had no idea I would upset you so much.” His hands tightened around hers. “I knew I shouldn’t… but I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t realize how badly it might affect you. Damn it, I can’t believe I took such advantage!” One hand left hers to spear through his hair again, as if forgetting he’d shorn it short. He looked ready to tear hanks out.

“Advantage?” she ventured. Sera couldn’t fathom what that meant. She’d never met a man who was more of a gentleman than Asher Wolf.

“Yes. It was wrong of me to impose upon your good nature. You were merely fulfilling your friends’ dare by dancing with me, and I had to take it further and ruin everything by kissing you. It was inexcusable.”

“Inexcusable? C’mon, Ash, it wasn’t that bad of a kiss—was it?”

“Because of our respective positions here,” he explained, seeing her befuddled expression. “And no—it wasn’t bad at all, Bliss. In fact”—the hand that still covered hers moved in a caressing gesture that sent streaks of sensation up and down her arm—“it was just the opposite. For me, at least. But I should never have taken such advantage.”

Sera was catching on. “Because you’re my landlord?”

“Just so.”

“And you think I felt obligated to—what, put out?—because of that?”

His lean cheeks reddened. “Well…”

Sera burst out laughing.

Really, really hard.

Maybe it was the relief that he hadn’t hated her kiss, but she could not seem to stop ha-haing and ho-hoing, especially when she saw the chagrined expression that spread across his handsome features. Typical macho male.

“Oh, Ash,” she said when she could breathe again. “Don’t worry about it—really, it’s no big thing. And believe me, if your kiss had been unwelcome, I wouldn’t have accepted it—and reciprocated the way I did. I’m a big girl. I’d have made my boundaries clear if you were crossing them. You were a perfect gentleman, every step of the way.”

“You made it hard to be,” Ash admitted. “It was the first time…” He broke off, eyes turning inward. “Anyway, the first time in a very long time that I’ve had such a delightful evening with a woman. I’m glad to know I wasn’t trespassing into inappropriate territory.”

You can trespass like that anytime you like, Sera wanted to say. But she didn’t quite have the gumption.

“So… we’re good?” she asked instead.

“Yes, I believe so,” Asher agreed. He dropped her hands abruptly. He seemed to be scrambling for a neutral topic. “So, ah… was your weekend… pleasant?” He winced a bit, as if aware his segue left something to be desired.

Sera had a moment of schadenfreude at his discomfort. It was such a novelty to be the one not left tongue-tied in their interactions that she took a second to savor it, having a feeling she’d be back to blushing and stuttering before long. “Nice enough,” she allowed. The change of subject was welcome. “I spent a lot of time on the phone, chasing leads about contractors, actually.”

“And did you find one?” Ash asked politely.

“I’m thinking of going with your friend Malcolm. I meant to ask your feelings on the subject, since it’d be your walls he’d be tearing down and your floors he’d be ripping up. It’s the reason I wanted you to come by today.” Not because I wanted another taste of those freakishly delicious lips.

Whatever Asher might have said on the subject was drowned out by a shriek coming from the courtyard.

“Oh my gawd, what is that thing?” a woman’s nasal voice pierced the still-damp morning air. “It’s growling at me! I think it’s going to attack! Don’t let it near me, Stanley!” Another high-pitched shriek. “What is that in its mouth?!?”

The absence of puppy in the shop registered with Serafina and Asher simultaneously.

“Silver!”

They ran for the door. Skidding to a halt on the porch beside Ash, Sera took in the scene. Asher’s little husky had cornered a couple of tourists by the fountain, new chew toy firmly wedged in his drooling muzzle. Tail wagging frantically, he was the picture of friendly curiosity. But apparently Stanley and his wife were getting a different impression. The lady, a woman in her early sixties with a weathered face and a lot of black eyeliner and brittle dyed black hair, was visibly trembling and clinging to her husband for support at the sight of Silver, who didn’t come up even as high as the top of her posh leather cowboy boot. Her husband, short and pudgy, with ears as whiskery as the pooch’s, looked closer to fainting than she did.