THE SECRET IN GAVIN'S CLUB

His fingers found the clasp at the front of my bra, unhooking it with practiced ease, yet his eyes, though, never left my face.

He eased the fabric aside from my left breast first, his hand tracing the curve with deliberate care. I let out a loud moan as his fingers found my nipple, circling and teasing before gliding to the other breast, my bra falling away on either side.

He finally looked down, and my breath caught, I worried he wouldn’t like what he saw. I didn’t have the kind of body those women by the pool flaunted, but the way he looked at me, like I was the only thing he wanted, made me forget that.

“Exquisite,” he murmured, lowering his head, and before I could even draw breath, his mouth was on my nipple; hot, wet, consuming.

A louder moan escaped me. My eyes fluttered shut, but I fought to keep them open. I wanted to keep my eyes open, to see him close to me, every breath and movement sending ripples of warmth through me.

His tongue and his hands consumed me, biting my nipple, sucking it, rolling ans tugging; every movement drawing me closer to the edge of control until I could only gasp beneath him. My body tensed, caught in the edge of something overwhelming that refused to let go.

Just as I was about to lose all pride and start pleading, he pulled back. A groan of pure frustration escaped me, funny, if it hadn’t felt so desperate. He lifted my chin with a finger, guiding my gaze to meet his. Our eyes locked, and he held my gaze as his touch drifted lower my stomach, sending a shiver through me...

Wait!! Let me take you back to the beginning of my story, the day I met Mr Hot Guy.

“Psst, Carrie, don’t look now, here comes a gorgeous guy at three o’clock,” Krissy murmured, nudging me with her elbow. The sport bar had music playing, loud enough to set the mood but soft enough for us to still talk.

At once, the four of us turned our attention to the guy who had just taken a seat at the far end of the bar, about thirty feet away.. He seemed to be in his late twenties, with dark hair and an outfit that struck a balance between casual and stylish.

It was late Friday afternoon, and the place hadn’t filled up yet since happy hour had only just kicked off. Here and there, couples and groups mingled, clinking glasses in easy celebration of the weekend’s arrival. My three best friends—Krissy, Leslie, and Dena; were with me.

We all worked at the Law Office of Webster and Steinberg, among the most prestigious firms in New York City, We’d been in work mode all week, fun was the least we could do.

And that guy? Fun might as well have been his middle name.

“Umm, not gonna lie, he’s hot, that shirt suits him,” I replied.

“Wow. The shirt’s what got you?” Leslie repeated as she flipping her bright red curly hair over her shoulder.“What in the world is wrong with you, girl? I have a feeling what is under that shirt is hell way more exciting. Carrie, why don’t you go chat with him? Find out the secret behind that awesome shirt.”

Leslie let out a snort of laughter, drawing the attention of a couple two tables away. She was forever the noisy one.

“Ha ha, Funny, really funny,” I replied flatly. "I’m definitely not going over there to talk to him. I can not afford to get caught up with a guy, no matter how insanely hot like that.…oh damn! Uh -oh He is looking straight at us."

I tilted my head down, as though I am fascinated by the sugar-rimmed Lemon Drop martini in front of me. Stupid, stupid—why did I have to react like a teenager caught sneaking out?

“Girl, quit hiding,” Krissy teased, nudging my foot under the table. “That man is checking you out. Like, full-on, no-mistaking-it staring. You gotta go over there and say something. ‘Nice shirt’—boom, conversation starter.”

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “Please. He is totally not. From what I can tell, he could be gay, married or engaged to someone."

Honestly, I just could not make room for a relationship. My days were swallowed up by work and reading at night for my Masters degree; there was no time left for anything else.

I honestly couldn’t tell you the last time I went out with someone, or even caught a movie. The thought made me pause. When was the last time? Suddenly, I remembered. It happened back in Alabama, during my Christmas visit. Greg was the one who took me out. I was pretty sure it was mostly out of pity. Going on a date after being best friends since high school? Yeah, it was awkward. Actually, worse than awkward. We laughed it off and vowed never to try that again. I was seriously grateful we hadn’t had sex.

My sex life? You’d have to rewind more than a year to find it. I have not had sex with anyone since... hmm... last spring, if my memory serves me right. A week before that, I caught Gale, my now-ex asshole boyfriend, having sex with Delia, the girl next door. Wow, that was a while back.

“Nope, he’s not gay… and definitely not married,” Krissy said, bringing my focus back. “No ring on his finger, and my gaydar’s never wrong, at least, not yet. But the only way to be sure is to ask.” She glanced around the table with a sly smile. “How about we play a little game?”

I let out a sigh. Krissy and her little games again. She was always the one coming up with party games, and somehow I always wound up losing. Some things stayed the same since that very first day as an new student in college year, when I got stuck sharing a room with that loud, intense girl from Chicago. Six years down the line, Krissy Jensen and I were still living together in a cozy little apartment in Manhattan.

“Oh, I have got a genius idea: let’s absolutely not do that.”I said.

“Come on, Carrie, don’t kill the vibe,” Krissy laughed. “Let’s do this instead. Pen and paper, anyone?”

Looking at her smile, I guess I could know her true intention. But so what? Once Krissy set her mind to something, it was hard to stop her.

And the guy was still looking.