pressed in the code on the elevator, which turned off the cameras, and pressed the HOLD button, which stopped the elevator’s ascent. Then he slammed her against the wall. And just as Yvonne had predicted, Sal was all over her breasts: licking and sucking and squeezing. She lifted her dress: she purposely wore no panties, and began grabbing his belt, and undoing his pants. And then she pulled it out, got on her knees, and began to give him the best oral she could possibly give to him.
Sal stood upright and braced himself as Yvonne went down on him. He expected a quick cum. He expected to do her in her mouth the way he liked it, and be done with her.
But his cum wouldn’t come. He tried to focus. He tried to give it his all too. But nothing was happening. The harder she tried: the licking and jerking and putting it in her mouth and going all the way down, the limper his penis became. She kept glancing up at him, wondering what she was doing wrong, and began to panic, but his eyes were closed.
The problem wasn’t Yvonne. The problem was his own mind. Because, in the back of his mind, it wasn’t what Yvonne was doing to him that dominated this thought, but what Gemma could do to him if she was the woman in this elevator with him. And he couldn’t resolve it. He couldn’t figure out why he would settle for what at best was going to be a low-level cum with Yvonne, when Gemma Jones had the capacity to shoot him to the moon. And that moonshot was too much of an enticement for Sal. He pulled his dick out of Yvonne’s mouth, tucked it back inside his pants, and zipped the hell up. What Tommy had said was true. Why the hell did he keep settling?
But Yvonne was mortified. She rose to her feet. “I was just getting started, Sal,” she said nervously.
“Not anymore,” he said. “It’s over. Fix your clothes.”
Yvonne put her clothes back in order as Sal turned back on the cameras, removed the HOLD on the elevator, and pressed the Lobby button instead of any up keys.
“But what about the restroom?” Yvonne asked.
Sal looked at her. Was she stupid? That needing to use the bathroom talk was code for she wanted to fuck. She knew that. Didn’t she understand that he knew it, too?
But whether she understood or not was of no consequence to Sal. He rode her back downstairs to the lobby where he found her, escorted her out of his cousin’s building, and then got into his Mercedes and drove away. He could kick himself for going down that road with her in the first place. Tommy was right. He deserved better, and Gemma sure as hell did.
Gemma Jones looked at her Caller ID. When she saw that it was Trina Gabrini, she smiled and answered. “Good evening.”
“Is he there yet?”
“Not yet, Tree.” Gemma was sitting in a booth seat in Miff’s, a Vegas bar. She already had her drink and, before the call, had been reading a text message.
“He’s late, right?” Trina asked. “I’ll call and see where his butt is.”
Gemma smiled. “Don’t you dare! He’s not that late. If he doesn’t show up in a timely manner, I know how to get my ass up and leave. There’s no need to call him. If he wants to be here, he’ll get here.”
“Girl, you’re a better woman than I am. Because if Reno pulled that late shit on me early in our relationship, we wouldn’t be married today!”
Then Gemma’s smile left, as she thought about it. “And that would have been an awful thing,” she said.
There was a pause on the other end. “You are so right. Um! I never even thought of it that way.”
“I’m learning myself,” Gemma said.
“Learning what?”
“To stop expecting too much from these men. I mean, I have my standards and plan to keep them. But I can’t keep letting the perfect become the enemy of the good. If I find a good man, and I’m not saying in any way, shape or form, that Sal Gabrini is that man, I plan to do all I can to keep him.”
“You deserve a good man, Gemma,” Trina said. “And I can say, in every way, shape, and form, that Sal Gabrini is that good man.”
Gemma laughed. “Oh, please.”
“You’ll see. Time will prove me right.”
Gemma thought about it. In a way, she hoped so.