Page 4 of Two Tricks

Smiling, I backed up and took a look at the piece before me. Even though it was unfinished, you could still see it was a man and woman wrapped in the throes of passion, unable to tell where one started and the other began.

“Girl, you are way too sexually frustrated if you are painting this shit. Good thing I can help you fix that,” Harper said, bumping me with her hip.

How Harper and I became friends was beyond me. If I hadn’t been forced to be her roommate freshman year, I don’t think we ever would have crossed paths. She was a fellow art student, but she was into fashion and everything feminine. Her long blonde hair was curled into soft waves with one side tucked behind her ear, showing off dangly earrings. Personally, I always told her she should have been the model for all the clothes she made instead of putting them on everyone else. Being a whole foot taller than me with the perfect size two body, it would have been a done deal.

“Please tell me you’re not gonna drag me to another model-infested club for one of your designer friends,” I groaned.

Harper linked arms with me and dragged me to my bedroom. “Not quite. This is a newer friend of mine that’s hosting a house party. She has an amazing beach house in Malibu, right off the PCH.”

I looked at Harper, really wanting to say no and just spend the night working on my painting. I hadn’t had inspiration in weeks, but after the meeting and argument with Wes, I was full of emotions. Seeing that I wasn’t sold on the idea, Harper pouted her glossy bottom lip, her eyes pleading.

“Ugh, fine. I’ll go, but if it sucks, I’m gonna leave your ass there,” I said, causing her to squeal and clap her hands.

“Okay, so knowing you as well as I do, I brought you something to wear,” she announced, pointing to the garment bag on my bed. “Now go shower and see if you can manage to find yourself under all that paint.”

“Don’t go organizing my room—you know I hate that shit,” I grumbled as I stomped off to the bathroom.

Scrubbing every inch of myself until I knew Harper would deem me clean, I toweled off and set to work on my hair and makeup. As an artist, doing makeup came naturally to me. I might not do it often, but I could create with some kick-ass looks when I wanted. Plus, I knew if I didn’t match up to Harper’s standards, I would be forced to wash it off and start over. I learned a long time ago to just do it right the first time if I didn’t want to be strapped down to a chair. Don’t get me wrong, in the right circumstance I wouldn’t mind being tied up—just not for makeup.

“How are things coming along?” Harper asked, poking her head into the bathroom.

“Almost done. Just finishing up with some mascara,” I answered, looking over my smoky eye that made my almond eyes look more dramatic.

“Here, use this lip color. It’ll complement the dress,” she offered, handing me a dark burgundy color. I hardly wore lipstick since my lips were already on the fuller side. I felt like it made me look like a Kim Kardashian wannabe, but Harper kept telling me that it wasn’t the same because mine were real.

Giving myself one final check, I headed to the bedroom to see what contraption Harper had designed for me to wear tonight. She loved all of my tattoos and tried to show them off as much as she could, so they often had unconventional designes.

I slipped on the dress, and I didn’t hate it as much as some of the others.

It was a deep plum color that set off the pale skin beneath my ink. The skirt went to mid-thigh, molding around my ass and making it look like I had more than I did. The back was completely open, and the front crisscrossed before meeting behind my neck in a halter, leaving a bare triangle of skin that started under my boobs and stretched to my waist. Not having to worry about having large boobs made outfits like this possible and worry free. A handful was all I had, and they were going to like it if they wanted to get lucky. Finishing off with some wax to style out my hair, I was ready.

Harper came to stand next to me in my full-length mirror, taking us in. Her silky emerald-green dress clung to her in all the right places, making it look more obscene than it was. Gold chains held it to her body around her neck and low back.

“Girl, we are going to break some hearts tonight!” Harper crowed.

Shaking my head, I slipped on my black studded heels, the only pair I owned. “Come on, let’s get going before I change my mind.”

“You want me to drive?” she offered.

“Hell no, I know better than that. You always seem to find someone to go home with. I want a ride out of there if I need it.”

“I don’t always find someone to go home with,” Harper mumbled.

Making it down the two flights of stairs, we reached the main level and found Wes in the kitchen cooking. My stomach grumbled at the smell of whatever masterful meal he was making himself. I wandered over to scope it out, and my mouth watered at the shrimp scampi. Reaching out, I made to steal a shrimp, but my hand was smacked with a wooden spoon.

“Fuck! What was that for, asshole?” I yelped.

“The shrimp isn’t fully cooked yet.” Wes smirked and added some lemon to the dish.

“Maybe next time we could use our words instead of lethal force, ya dick,” I grumbled.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be sticking your fingers in someone else’s dinner.” Setting down the spoon, he leaned back on the counter and took me in. “You’re going out?”

“You don’t mind if I steal her, do you?” Harper asked, batting her lashes at him. “I’m dragging Dax to a party at a friend’s place.”

She always flirted with Wes, even after all these years of rejection. I knew she didn’t really mean it, but who could resist a walking sex-on-a-stick like Weston?

When I bought this house and Wes moved in with me, we made a deal that we wouldn’t allow sleepover guests. It was our safe place, and neither of us wanted to fear intruding on the other… It could also be that I got insanely jealous when Wes was with a girl. I chalked it up to being overly protective of him. Other than being his best friend, I didn’t have any claim on him. Never once had we brought up being anything more.