“What?” Melinda hissed.
Henry’s brows arched and he waved his hands around which I think meant boobs and curves.
“She’s real familiar too.”
“You think you’ve seen her in a porn movie?” Melinda asked in all seriousness.
“Mom.” Ellie groaned. “She’s a wedding planner, not a porn star.”
“But dad says she has curves,” Melinda protested.
“Doesn’t mean she’s been in a porn movie,” Ellie whispered as we heard heels clicking again.
“I don’t think so, honey,” Henry said, frowning. “I’d have remembered her. Although, it could be the one we watched last week with the woman who masturbated every time she saw a fire fighter.”
“Oh god,” Ellie groaned. “Kill me now.”
“It was quite a good story, actually,” Melinda replied. “Not all porn is bad, sweetheart.”
“Guys,” I warned and cleared my throat as the door into the den pushed open.
A woman with long, lustrous hair in about three shades of brown, stepped inside and I almost fell backward. Henry was right, she had fucking curves to die for. She was a walking, talking hourglass. Her boobs were big, and a fucking amazing cleavage peeked above the V-neck of the tight red jersey dress she was wearing. Her hips flared out from a slim waist, but she had a small curve to her stomach that showed me she wasn’t one of those women who just ate salad. And, when my eyes travelled down to her legs, I had to swallow back a groan of appreciation. They were long and tanned and on her feet were the highest pair of black shoes I’d ever seen.
“Well, well, well,” she said in her hot as fuck voice. “It is you.”
I looked up, finally taking note of the plump red lips, smoky eyes, a perfect little upturned nose and the beauty spot on her right cheek. I thought my eyes were going to pop out of my head as it suddenly hit me who was standing in my den looking like my wildest wet dream ever.
“Kitty?” I asked, taking a step closer to get a better look. “Kitty Carmichael?”
“Norm’s niece,” Henry cried. “Kitty from high school.” He pointed at me and then back to Kitty. “You two… shit.”
I felt my cheeks heat up, but to her credit Kitty appeared as cool as a winter frost. She had been my first real girlfriend, and when she and her family moved to Florida, when we were fifteen, I’d been heartbroken for about a month; then Sarah Beckett offered me a blow job at my sixteenth birthday party, so…
The reason my cheeks were burning though was because Kitty had been the girl that I’d lost my cherry to. She’d been hot then with quite a rack for a fifteen-year-old but now she was fucking spectacular. If I recalled correctly, and I knew I damn well did, even then, after our first pretty sketchy attempt at sex the other couple of times before she left town had been awesome. For two fifteen-year-old kids we had one helluv an idea of what to do.
“I guess you’re thinking what I’m thinking,” Kitty said, leaning closer to me. “And yeah, you’re right, I am even better now.”
