Free Borrowing Trouble by Mae Wood

now.”
    “Trip, I really want you here,” I moaned, complying with his requests.
    “And I’ll be there tomorrow night. Now tell me what you’re doing.”
    “I’m sliding it in and out of me.”
    “Is it one of those rabbit things where it can touch your clit at the same time?”
    “Your knowledge of vibrators is beginning to creep me out a little. And no, it’s not. It’s just a little red wand.”
    “Pull it out, put it where it feels good and come for me, Marisa. Oh, Marisa,” he groaned. “We are going to have so much fun tomorrow night. I’m going to lick you and fuck you over and over until you don’t remember your own name.” The thought of Trip’s tongue on my pussy sent me over the edge, my body lurched and I called out his name in a stupor. “Baby, I’m right with you baby, oh, fuck, Marisa. I fucking love you.”
    I fell limp on the bed. “Hmmm. Please come home,” I muttered, entirely spent and barely able to muster the power to switch off the vibrator.
    “You make me so happy, Marisa. Okay, I’ve got to get cleaned up before my business dinner. You girls have fun. If you want dinner or drinks at Pig and Barley, you know it’s on the house.”
    “Oh, Pig and Barley would be great, but you don’t need to buy us dinner or drinks. Just snagging us a table at the last minute would be awesome.”
    “Marisa, there are many things I don’t need to do, but I want to do for you. And to you. So, please, let me buy you dinner and get you and Erica liquored up. It’s the least I can do after surviving lunch and shopping with my mother.”
    “Trip, you are spoiling me.”
    “Few things make me happier. See you tomorrow night. I’ll be back around nine. I’m flying commercial.”
    “Okay, I’ll see you at your house.”
    “That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day. I mean that.”
    “And I hope you know I mean it, too.”
    “Now go put me in the poorhouse. I’ll let Bert know you’re coming.”

 
    Chapter Twelve
     
     
    I hopped off the trolley and strolled the final couple of blocks to Pig and Barley. Pushing through the rough-hewn wooden doors into the warmly lit restaurant, I spotted Erica dressed in her Left Bank chic skinny jeans, ballet flats, and a well-worn slim brown leather motorcycle jacket. She was seated at the bar, curled around a highball glass and staring into the middle distance.
    “Hey, chicka!” I called, dropping onto a highly polished reclaimed wood stool next to my best friend. “What’s good?”
    “Well, Bert has kindly directed me to something he’s calling the ‘The Sound and the Fury.’ I’m not sure what’s in it, but it’s got bourbon and a hell of a kick. This is number two,” she mused, bringing the glass up to her mouth and draining it.
    “Sounds like I’m behind you. I need to wet my whistle, too.” I caught Bert’s eye and he greeted me with a hearty handshake across the bar.
    “Hey, Runner Girl. Good to see you back. I’ve got a bottle of wine with your name on it and a table coming open.”
    “Thanks, Bert. This is my friend Erica.” After introductions, we chatted happily for a bit about the restaurant, which he co-owned with Trip, and his latest tattoo – a bike chain encircling his firm left calf. After giving us a guided tour of his tattoos that were ‘fit for public viewing,’ in his words, he sauntered off in search of the promised wine.
    “Well, we’re not moving to a table.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “We are eating at the bar where I can enjoy your company and the excellent view.”
    I glanced around the bar, following Erica’s line of sight to Bert’s exposed muscular and heavily tattooed forearms working a corkscrew. “You’re in an interesting mood, my dear. You want to drink or talk?”
    Erica brought her eyes back down to her glass and clinked the single large ice cube against its sides. “Drink. Can’t talk, but I can listen. And I want to hear about shopping.”
    “That was the clumsiest