Be My Valentine

Cupid’s & Candy Heart’s - Skylar Pinskey

Who throws a party on Valentine’s day?

Better yet, who goes to a party on valentine’s day?

Nobody.

Me! I do!

Maybe there will be guys there this time. A girl can dream, right? Then maybe I can secure a Valentine for next year.

I program Shake It Off by Taylor Swift to repeat until I get to the party. There is something digging into my butt, making this drive uncomfortable. At the light, I roll down my window and the guy next to me is also blaring Taylor.

We catch each other’s eye and we dance. When it’s over, I ask him for his number. We make eye contact and a head pops up from his lap! I gasp, hitting the gas and running the red light.

Oh my God! How do I keep finding the taken ones?

Zero parking. Shiiiiite. People actually party on V-Day. Pffft. I know I’m late, but Miranda never has people that actually attend her parties. It's usually just us gals.

There's a spot a couple of houses down. It takes three tries to get out. First, my box got stuck on the steering wheel, then I left my purse. Walking to her house in my candy heart costume and heels, I whistle the rest of the song.

Finally. I’m here!

I bounce up the stairs and open her door. My whistling winds down and I stop dead in my tracks. Am I at the right house? I take a quick survey of the place.

Red door, check.

Miranda’s phallic statue on the entryway table, check.

Blue carpet, check.

All eyes are on me. Why is everyone in an eye mask and dressed elegantly?

“Is she the entertainment?” Ouch.

A woman in a red gown and a black lace mask comes up to me. Blue eyes, Miranda.

“Jess, what the hell is that?” I look down at my Sweetheart box with candy hearts costume.

“You said it’s a costume party.” I calmly trace the outline of a candy heart on my chest. Inside, my heart pounds fiercely against my sternum.

“A cupid mask party,” a harsh whisper leaves her lips while she pulls me away. Aaaalll the eyes follow me.

“Take that off,” she shoves me into her room.

I gasp, “I can’t wear my underpants?”

“Those candy heart leggings and shirt will do fine, I guess,” she rubs her temples.

“It’s part of the costume,” she glares at me, “it’s sewed to it!”

“Oh my God, you made that!” She laughs so hard that her makeup runs.

“That’s not funny! I am a seamstress. Naturally, I’d make my costume.” I set my hands on my box hips.

She snorts, trying to stop herself from laughing. I hit her with my custom candy heart handbag, “stop!”

She clears her throat. “So…”

Throwing my hands in the air, I sit on her bed groaning. “I cleared out my trunk too! And you’re half my size. I can’t wear your clothes.”

Miranda’s new boyfriend, Jim, comes into the room. “I had to see it myself,” he laughs, “you made my night!” he kisses Miranda as I glare at him.

I jump up and leave the room. I’m rocking it. Squaring my shoulders, I strut into the living room like a peacock, the c**k of all peacocks.

I curse you, tunnel! What a wasted opportunity! Of course, this happens when it is the perfect place to showcase my designs. My phone lost reception during the call when I entered the tunnel a couple of weeks ago. I even confirmed. She agreed it was a costume party. Where do cupid and costume sound alike? They don’t.

Keep those eyes on me, people!

My feet keep moving towards the drink table.

Act cool.

Blend in.

Fade into the background, you’ve done it for years. Tonight is no exception.

I stop at the group of people chatting and blocking the pathway to the drinks. My finger taps on one of the woman’s shoulders, “Excuse me, would you kindly move so I can pass?”

Her body turns to me with a small smile, and her eyes widen in amusement. Instead of laughing, she clenches her lips between her teeth. She moves to the side, granting me passage. Walking through the narrow passage, I bump into the woman she was speaking to.

Nope, not happening. I have an extra layer of padding that she doesn't have, plus my costume.

The jarred movement forces her to look at me, thankfully she is kind enough to say nothing. “Oops, I’m so sorry.” She moves closer to the guy next to her.

This time, I turn my body to fit through and smash a guy this time. “Hey watch it,” he turns around and his face lights up with laughter.

His rough hand lands on my shoulder, pushing me forward while stepping aside. “Get yourself a drink girly, maybe three.” He whispers in my ear.

Dick on a stick.

I am blending in perfectly, like a red wine stain on a wedding dress’ bust.

Elegantly, I gulp down two martinis. Gulping is definitely elegant. Grabbing my third, I turn around, and my box hits the side of the table. All the drinks clink against each other. I hold on to the table and it stops vibrating. I move back slowly, then turn around, and every pair of eyes is watching me.

You’ve always wanted to be in the spotlight, right? Tonight’s perfect. Minus my attire. Oh well. Let’s roll with it, baby.

I flash my best smile, placing one foot in front of the other like a model I walk away. At least no one is in the way.

~

Miranda is in the kitchen. I walk inside and sit elegantly on a stool, as elegant as one can in a candy heart box costume. I hum another Taylor Swift song.

“Why are you in here?” She steps in front of me.

My finger strokes the rim of the martini glass in my hand. I sigh and look up at her. “They think I’m a joke,” I shrug with a small smile and whisper. I let out a frustrated breath and then continue my humming.

She frowns. I take a gulp of my 5th martini. So, elegant.

“Gosh Jess, I’m sorry. I assumed you were making a dress.” She shakes her head. “Everyone here is single.” My ears perk up.

“But… they already hate me, snobby people,” I groan. I was out there for an hour and everyone would either slowly close me off from their conversations or ignore me.

A light smack lands on my shoulder. I shrug. They are her friends I know, but they are rude, rude with a capital R. She turns on her heels walking out, leaving me to wallow in my misery.

After a while, I scrummage through her wine cellar. My favorite is Kokomo Chardonnay. I grab the one in the ice bucket and walk out. I turn around to shut it, bumping straight into someone.

Large hands grab my hips.

“Woah!” I turn and meet the most beautiful green eyes. “Hands off buddy!” I smack them.

“Butts off!” He grins, extending his hand toward me. “Tom.”

“Jess,” I slide my hand into his large warm hand, and we shake. He jerks back his hand with wide eyes. I pout, then my face drops when he holds up his wet hand.

“Oh sorry, it’s from the wine!” Running to the counter, I set the wine down. It loses balance and wobbles a bit. Trying to catch it I knock it and it slams against the counter, rolling away. I launch myself over the counter, only to push it further toward the edge of the counter. Closing my eyes, I wait for the shattering of glass. Instead, I hear the bottle set on the counter. And those same hands grab my hips and slide me off the counter.

Turning around, I don’t meet his eyes. I grab his hand and wipe it off. Which was unnecessary. My cheeks are a permanent pink from the alcohol and continuous circus act I am starring in tonight.

Peeping through my lashes, he has a wide grin on his face. “Just say it.”

His eyebrows knit together, “say what?”

Walking away, I huff and throw away the napkin. I stand tall to meet him. He’s so close. I hit my head on his chin. “Oh, I’m so sorry!”

He rubs the reddened area. “It’s quite alright,” he steps back a little. He eyes me with a smile.

“I know you want to,” I square my shoulders, “do it, make fun of me.” I’m used to it. Everyone makes fun of me.

“I’d never! I quite like it. It’s refreshing.” He smooths down his blazer. And a smile breaks out on my face.

Subtle, real subtle.

“Your shirt matches my sleeves!” crisp white with little candy hearts.

“Let’s celebrate!” I grab some wine glasses and pour us each a glass.

“Valentine’s day!” I clink his glass a little too hard and it splashes all over his shirt. I gasp, “no!” I grab more napkins and start vigorously rubbing the light yellow stain.

“Don’t fret, it’s fine.” He grabs my wrists.

“No, take it off.” I step back. My wrists are still in his grasp.

He steps closer, pinning me against the counter, and my breath quickens, my neck straining to look up at him. Hmm, he’s tall. “If there is something you want to see, all you have to do is ask?”

Lowering my gaze, I noticed his undone buttons and his hard, exposed chest. Wowzers. I look back at him. His eyes are intense and burning with desire. No one looks at me like that.

I clear my throat, “I… I w-was… w-wanted to clean it.”

“Tom?” Miranda’s soft voice pulls me from our intense staring contest. She walks into the kitchen. Reluctantly, he lets go of my wrists. A curvy woman to her right, breasts spilling out everywhere. I even see some nip peaking out. Another lacy mask, white this time. Tom isn’t wearing a mask!

“Oh, there you are,” she stops, looking at me, curiosity written all over her face. Tom faces her.

“Hi Miranda, it’s wonderful to see you again,” his voice is so velvety smooth, I watch his jaw move as he talks to her. So strong, I wonder what things he can do with that jaw of his. Stop those dirty thoughts, Jess!

“This is Alyssa, the woman I mentioned.” Miranda moves to the side, presenting Alyssa like a steak on a silver platter. With carrots, yes, definitely carrots. Those fancy carrots with the green part still attached and nipped short in a caramelized honey and balsamic glaze.

Yum.

She makes me hungry. He turns to look at me with an amused grin. “Jess?” Miranda looks confused. I slap my hand over my mouth. They definitely heard my thoughts.

“Tom,” Alyssa strokes his arm. “Would you like to go somewhere private to talk privately?” She turns to me with a disgusted look, “Away from… uh… people.”

“I’m sorry Alyssa, I am already sharing a drink with this pretty little thing. I’d like to feed that mouth of hers, too.” Alyssa blinks, a bewildered look on her face. Her mouth is open like a gaping fish. Hmm… fish, yumm.

I quickly grab my wine glass, draining the contents. Men don’t deny Alyssa, she always gets them. This woman literally stole not one, but two of my boyfriends. Both were highly successful CEOs. Once they met her, it was over before she walked out. Not like I blame them. Come on, look at me.

“Alyssa, let’s go find a drink,” Miranda pulls her away. Alyssa sends me a murderous glare before disappearing down the hallway.

“Thanks, but it’s OK. You don’t have to stay here with me.” I look down at my shoes and notice a nick in the left one. Darn it, now I need new shoes!

“You’re right,” I wince. “But I am into you, not her.”

“No? She’s any man’s dream.”

“Maybe some, but she’s only after my… assets.”

“Well, you have remarkable assets,” I shamelessly check him out.

“I mean…,” his head c***s and he grins, “you like my assets?”

I nod and grab my drink again, my face needing something to cool it off. It’s empty. He grabs it from my hand.

“Fill your belly with something that isn’t liquid,” taking my hand in his, he walks us toward the dining room. Oh. There’s food here tonight, not just snacks. Yippee!

“Tom!” Jim motions for him to come over. We make our way to Jim. Jim frowns down at our connected hands.

Looking around for some alcohol, I spot a bottle of champagne on the table. I need more to survive this blasted party. Tom squeezes my hand and pulls me closer. I crash into his side. He looks down at me smiling, “no more, not until you eat.”

“How do you know?” My eyes widen, and now I look like a damned fish.

“I figured Alyssa would be your type.” Jim’s annoyed voice makes me want to poke his eyes out.

“She boring, and-”

“She is only after his assets,” I interject, then I lean toward Jim with my hand hiding my mouth from Tom, “shh don’t tell him but I reaallllyyy like his assets,” that was supposed to be a whisper.

“You have no idea how many like his assets, Jess,” Jim shakes his head at me and laughs. “Enjoy, she’s not boring ever,” he pats Tom’s shoulder. A bell rings. “Ahh, dinner is ready”

Who uses a bell for dinner?

They usher everyone to the table. I notice on each place setting is a card. We have assigned seats!

Groaning, I lean into Tom. “boorring, what are we, a bunch of five-year-olds? Is she going to cut up my steak into bite-size pieces for me too?” Tom smiles at me.

“Does alcohol dislodge your filter, or do you come without a filter?” He pokes my cheek.

“I-”

“Tom, look! We’re sitting next to each other.” Alyssa latches onto his arm and pulls.

“Please excuse me,” he looks at Alyssa prying her talons off his arm, “stay here, don’t move, K?” I nod at him.

Alyssa digs her nails into my forearm. “You listen here, b***h, he’s mine,” she snarls, showing me her teeth like a rat munching on a carrot. Tugging on my arm, she tries to pull me away. I stick my feet into the ground and yank my arm out of her reach, elbowing someone. I turn around and see an irate Tom.

I gasp, “I-” Tom grabs my hand and shakes his head.

“She started it. She called me a twatface,” Alyssa whines pressing herself into Tom. I step back away from the crazy b***h. Tom keeps my hand in his.

“Twatface,” he pauses, I can tell he is trying to not make a scene, “Miranda has assigned a different seat for you, Alyssa.”

“But I always sit next to the head! You’re supposed to be my date,” she straight up stomps her feet, both of them, like a toddler. Miranda should cut up her steak. I really hope we’re having steak tonight.

“I simply agreed to meet you, nothing more. I quite like Jess here, and will pursue her,” he said what now?

She launches herself at me. I screech when she rips a candy heart off my costume. Jim pulls her back, the candy heart still in her hand.

“What did you do? You- you-” RAT FACE I want to scream, but don’t dare offend Tom with such immature name calling. “Alyssa.”

“It’s ugly, anyway, I did you a favor,” her eyes roll back into her head. Nervously, I follow Tom’s gaze to the missing candy heart. My face flames red as a cherry.

“It matches…” a small chuckle escapes his lips.

I used the rest of the candy heart fabric to make a plunge bra, with a white lace overlay. I adjust the costume and cover myself back up.

Hands fly in front of my face, Alyssa used my boob distraction to lunge at me again. Jim is dragging her, kicking and screaming. Tom shakes his head, mumbling something under his breath.

Miranda comes over apologizing to Tom, “I hadn’t realized she was so… vain. I will have to find Mr. Reese a new dinner mate.”

“Mr. Reese, the billionaire is here?”

She nods her head and walks away.

“Did you want Mr. Reese as your dinner mate? He was yours originally…” Tom has his hands in his pockets and he looks nervous.

I wave my hand in the air, “no. No! I like you. I’ve known Mr. Reese before the money. He’s always been pompous.” I puff out my chest and use my deep, fake voice. “Call me Mr. Reese. I will be famous and rich one day.”

Tom chuckles and grabs my hand. Walking over to the table, my shoe catches on something and I trip, ripping my hand from Tom’s. Supermaning directly to the ground, I smash my forehead onto someone’s shoes.

“How did you get there?” Tom’s gentle grip is around my upper arm, helping me up.

~

Dinner was amazing. I ate it all and had champagne, lots of yummy sweet champagne.

Bubblyyyy. I love you!

Tom is going to drive me home. So, here I am standing in the entryway waiting for him to finish up something with Jim. Everyone has gone home. It’s just me and the p***s statue.

Giggling, I pick up the p***s statue. It is a short man sitting down and holding a large erect p***s. The ginormous p***s is longer than he is tall. It is SO heavy. What is it made from? I test the weight, bouncing it, and it slips from my butter hands. The p***s hits the table, snapping in half, and both pieces fall to the ground with a loud thud.

“No!” I gasp. “Shite!”

“What do I do?”

Frantically looking around, I pick up the two pieces. I always have glue in my purse! Yep. I can fix this. Wait, what is this tiny purse good for? Nothing? Fashion, that’s it. Fudge no glue.

Footsteps, I hear footsteps.

Quickly placing the pieces back on the table, I turn around to block the statue and lean my butt against the table. I whistle that Taylor song again.

It’s Miranda. My eyes go wide. She heard the thud.

“I’m off to bed, don’t do anything I wouldn’t with Tom,” she winks at me and pulls me in for a hug. I twirl us around a couple of times and stop so that her back is facing the statue.

“You are excited. I would be too if I landed Jim’s boss and was single.”

I gasp and let her go. “Jim’s boss?”

She gives me her most cunning smile. “But I thought you said it was like filthy rich or something.”

“He is darling,” she walks away.

I stand there, stunned.

Oh, crud monkey, the statue! I turn around and take off my coat. I wrap it around the statue and Tom comes around the corner right as I turn around.

The drive is fun. I dance and sing in the passenger side. He lets me blare Taylor Swift’s Fearless. His car is nice. I don’t know what it is, but it is pretty blue.

I have him park in my spot at the apartment complex. Getting out is a challenge to not drop the p***s.

“Let’s have a sleepover,” I announce, rummaging through my pantry. Tom clears his throat.

“I…erm…”

I pull out the last of my favorite wine! Tom takes it and sets it down. “You need sleep, no more drinking.” He grabs my arm to steady me.

“Then let’s go to sleep together.” I smile and his face turns red. I pull him down the hallway and into my bedroom.

“This isn’t a good idea Jess, you’re-”

“Sleeping together was your idea! What, you don’t want to sleep with me?” I furrow my brows, releasing him.

He frowns. “I do, but…” I let my costume fall to the ground.

“I feel so free!” I jump on the bed pulling back the covers.

“I think you are trying to kill me,” he groans.

I look over my shoulder, his eyes are zoning on my thonged butt. I wiggle my butt. His eyes get darker, and I slap the bed a few times.

“Sleep,” I command him and lie on my back. He pulls off his jacket and shoes and lays down beside me.

The blaring streetlight makes the room bright. I lean up over the headboard and close the curtains.

“Definitely trying to kill me,” Tom mutters. Hmm.. my boobs are in his face.

Laying down next to him, I wrap my leg and arm around him.

He kisses the top of my head.

~~

Pen Name:: Skylar Pinskey

My Books::

INK.ITT

Demi Wolf (Completed)

The Alpha’s Energy (On Going)

Fac.e.book Group:: Between the Covers (Skylar’s Bookies)