One Year Stand

I was sullenly slurping my bubble tea as wedding frolickers danced their merry dances to happy songs. I'd noticed that all the other girls in the room had been asked to dance at least once, mostly because Sherry invited fewer girl guests, and Jeff didn't have many unwed lady friends, mostly at Sherry's "polite" request.

"Does no one want to dance with a lonely cucumber?" I sniffled plaintively. I thumped my chin down on the table and pouted.

"No." Damn warm fuzzy man. I stuck my tongue out at him while still avoiding eye contact.

"Not because you're not cute though. Didn't you see the note at the bottom of the menu?" He sat down next to me and passed me a menu.

"WHAT?" I grabbed it and frantically flipped through the elegantly contoured pages. There.

"Thou shalt not dance with the cucumber," I read. It was hidden in the salad page. Damn Sherry, she knew I wouldn't be even reading through the salads.

I looked around maniacally, searching for that killjoy sister of mine. I spotted her, and was about to storm off, when that warm hand enveloped mine.

"You really don't think anything through." He pulled me back down, and pointed at her.

Through my instantly fuzzied haze, I vaguely noticed that Sherry and Jeff were dancing to a slow song, dreamily staring at each other.

"You know you don't want to spoil that."

"How do you know what I want? You don't even know me."

"Well, I saw you sobbing through three hankies during the ceremony."

"Stalker."

"Nonetheless, it was cute that you care so much about your sister, even after she stuffed you into this dress." He reached over and pinched my cheek. No, I wasn't blushing. I have a hyperactive circulatory system.

He leaned back and enjoyed the music, closing his eyes. I took this opportunity to fully check him out. Let's start at the top.

Black, somewhat short, mussed hair. My favorite. Yum.

Sharp angled features, some stubble, strong chin. Yum times two.

Wearing the hottest, black button-up I've ever seen, with a few buttons on top open. Yum times three. Chest hair! Bonus Yum.

Very nice biceps, and ooh la la, large hands.

I skip over the, erm, waist area. Very good choice of shoes. Armani. Obviously well off.

Then it dawns on me. This guy could be my one night stand.

"Done checking me out yet?" His eyes were still closed.

I blushed furiously and blew a raspberry. "Egomaniac. Hey, did you know that your forehead is a little large? That's a sign of balding."

His eyes opened perceptibly. I could sense his fingers itching to check his hairline, but his manly ego was stopping him. "I don't quite believe you."

I faked a few coughs to cover my laugh. "I'm a family physician. During medical school we learned about the signs of aging. That large forehead definitely wasn't that large before was it?"

He opened his eyes. "I still don't believe you."

"Well how old are you? 40? 50?" I felt my entire slightly shake with the struggle of not bursting into laughter.

I had pushed the right manly ego button. "I'm 30." He growled.

"Oh, well, being a police officer naturally takes a few years off your life. It's the stress of danger. Don't worry, in a few years you'll probably be given a desk job, and you can have donuts and coffee while you sit your large butt in your comfy chair."

He whirled around and stared at me intensely. Hard eyes driving straight into mine. Shivers ran down my back, but I glared back. I was going to win this.

He continued to stare, unblinking.

I blinked.

He slowly raised an eyebrow. I squirmed.

He narrowed those dark brown orbs.

I broke.

Snickering slightly, I admitted, "Okay okay...You look perfectly fine for your age. No, you're not balding."

He snorted and turned back to watching others dance.

Silence.

I got worried. Maybe he has a phobia about getting old? Should I apologize? I mean, I guess maybe police really do get retired to desk jobs at 30. He's not really even balding, in fact his hair looks really healthy. The type that just wants a hand to run through it. I guess I should apologize. I was being mean.

I cautiously stuck my arm out to poke him. Before I could touch him, my hand was suddenly captured. As I stared at the hand over my own, shivers ran up my body and warmed special parts of me.

"Did you want to say something?"

I swallowed. "Uhmm, I just wanted to say that I was sorry for scaring you. I mean I really shouldn't have. It was mean and totally unnecessary. I'm sorry again."

He removed his hand.

Did I do something wrong? Maybe he doesn't like girls that apologize? What kind of idiot doesn't like girls that apologize?

His hand rose up. Was the bastard going to hit me? I got ready to dodge.

His hand landed softly on my head, slightly pushing it down while mussing my hair. A warm feeling spread. He liked me!

Wait. But he just messed up my hair.

"Do you know how long it takes to arrange my hair like this? Half an hour. Do you know how long it takes to arrange my hair after it gets messed up? Two hours. That's because after the hairspray has set in, and you mess it up again-"

He stuck a spoonful of cake into my mouth. Yummy. I was sent into sugar heaven and momentarily forgot where I was. Sugar is infinitely better than an orgasm.

He turned back to watch the dancers. I shrugged and did the same while shoveling quantities of sugar, icing, and carbohydrates into my mouth.

Then an idea hit me. I realized that as a cucumber, he probably wouldn't want to dance with me. But maybe I could get his number and get him for a one night stand when the wedding was over.

So what do I start with?

'Give me your number' sounds desperate, 'what's your number' sounds corny, and 'want to call me?' is just horrible.

Ok I'm just going to start by saying hi.

I take in a breath...and let it out. Maybe I should ask him his name in the same breath. I mean don't even know his name and I'm planning to get him for a one night stand. I'm such a slut. Ok, so Hi, what's your name. So here goes...

"Want to get out of here?" He casually glanced over.

"What? Hey, unfair." I wasn't making much sense.

He just looked at me.

"I was about to say-"

He raised an eyebrow.

I picked up my bag. "Sure let's go."


We took the elevator down. It was really awkward. I fiddled with the buttons on the elevator.

"If you keep doing that you'll-"

I accidentally pressed the button for the 8th floor.

"It was an accident!"

"If you didn't play with the buttons it wouldn't have happened."

"It's not like it matters anyway, we're going to the first floor."

"Well the next guy that comes on will have to stop at the eighth floor."

"So? Who cares about the next guy?" I stuck out my tongue and started pressing all the other buttons. It was fun.

He cursed and grabbed my arm, pulling me against him. The elevator doors opened, and Sherry's boss at the law firm she worked at was there. She eyed me and cop boy and shook her head disapprovingly as I slunk out of the elevator. She got in the elevator, took a look at the buttons, and sighed loudly with a distinct air of disapproval.

When the doors closed again, I punched him.

"What did you do that for?" He asked.

"You got me in trouble."

"I didn't do anything missy."

"You started it."

He groaned, "You are so immature." He led me as he hunted for his parking space.

"I'm not your dog. You don't have to pull me around."

He ignored me and kept walking.

"Don't ignore me." He ignored me.

I started to drag my heels. He kept pulling me. Apparently, a 5 foot 1 girl isn't too hard to drag around when you've gone through police academy.

"There it is. Get in." He let me go.

My jaw dropped. It was love at first sight. His car was a black BMW Z4, my favorite. I had always wanted it, except it was a little inefficient for carrying hurt patients, for the few cases where I did need to take one.

He stood there, with a slight smirk on his face, watching my reaction.

I squealed and ran forward, throwing myself on the nose of the car.

Silence.

He cleared his throat.

"Shhh, I'm hugging your car."

Silence.

"I can't believe I'm starting to get jealous of my car."

"What?"

He was staring at me. Below me. I looked down. I was showing him a very nice view beneath the cloth bag that was my dress. I jumped up and crossed my arms over my chest.

"Pervert."

"At least my car's happy." He slid into the driver's seat.

"No fair. Let me drive!"

"How is it fair to let you drive?"

"Because I'm the guest."

He rolled his eyes and waited.

"I'm not getting in unless I drive."

"Ok." He revved the engine.

I gave in. That was one sexy purr. However, I'm not doing it without a fight.

I hopped in. "Ahhhh Sparky's just so cute. How old is he?"

He stared at me aghast. I grinned, "Yes. Sparky. Your car." I patted the armrest.

I gloated over my win.

But he merely put the car in drive. "Well then, let's go. Strap down Bunnies or they might start bouncing around during the ride. We don't want that do we?"

Bastard.

With a magnificent, satin purr, Sparky pulled out of the parking garage. I reveled in the total hotness of it. The sun was setting right then, and I leaned back to enjoy it all.

"I see Bunnies is trying to enjoy the sun as well."

Perv. I punched him and crossed my arms.

"Realize that if you ever get kidnapped, your punch will be completely, utterly and absolutely ineffective."

"I know. But that is why if you really piss me off, I have a can of mace in my bag."

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "You brought mace to your sister's wedding? Are her friend's that bad?"

"That reminds me. Who are you?"

"That actually reminds me. You're sitting in my car, we're driving at around 80 mph on the highway, you have no idea who I am, where we're going, and no one knows that you're with me." He threw a devilish glance at me. "I'm your worst nightmare."

"If you're trying to convince me you're a rapist, you're definitely failing."

He glanced over, "Oh? What makes you so sure?"

"Well first of all, rapists all have long bushy mustaches, caterpillar eyebrows, and carry evil curved scimitars."

"What if I shaved my mustache, plucked my eyebrows, and have my scimitar stashed in the back somewhere?" I could see he wanted to smile.

"Well, any guy who would pluck his eyebrows is most likely gay, and even if he weren't, he doesn't need to be a rapist because he'd care enough about his appearance that he could get laid without having to force himself on anyone."

He merely chuckled and drove.

Ha. No comeback.

I enjoyed my win for a while, then I realized that I didn't know where we were going. Not to mention, I still didn't know his name.

I poked him.

He ignored me.

I poked him again.

"It's not safe to distract the driver." He didn't turn to look at me. I still felt ignored.

"Where are we going?" I whined.

"My house."

Eeek. Was I really going to go have a one night stand?

I cautiously poked him again, and hung on for dear life as he swerved crazily.

"What the f-" I looked at him. He looked calm and composed.

"I told you it wasn't safe."

I stuck my tongue out at him, and amazingly, I was ignored. Yet again.

He turned Sparky onto a road surrounded a tunnel of trees. It was breathtaking. I've always been quite fond of trees. Then I noticed that the houses we were passing were all big. Not big. Big describes one of those larger single houses. These were mansions. Not McMansions, but huge, ginormous, specialized mansions.

I turned to him, mouth agape, "Who are you?"

This time, I wasn't ignored. "Kevin Lee." He turned and grinned.

Holy shit. "I thought you were a police officer!"

"I lied." We pulled into the driveway of the largest, most elaborate, most beautiful house on the entire drive.

I was going to be having a one night stand with a mafia boss.


Author's Note: I'm falling in love with this guy all over again :D