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Playin' DoctorPublic Disgrace at THE CLUB

Playtime with Sera
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Playtime with Sera

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BLURB

A voice mail from her hubby, Marc, informs Sera that he and an old school chum are going out for drinks, and he wants her get all spiffed up and meet them at Christo’s for dinner and a night of dancing.

At the restaurant, she takes a hard right into the lounge and bangs into Marc’s school chum, Jack, who also happens to be her fabulous-looking lady killer, ex, Jack. The unlikely situation prompts a degree of discomfort for all.

As the night wears on, it becomes apparent to the ex-husband and wife that although the bonds of matrimony were severed, their original burning attraction was as strong as ever. This forces Marc to make a decision a husband should never have to make.

Is this a case of fuzzy math where one plus one equals three?

EXCERPT

It all started with a phone message. “Hi baby, it’s me. I ran into an old buddy today who I haven’t seen since college. We’re going out for a couple drinks at five, and well…I’d like you to meet Jack. Why don’t you get all fixed up like you do? You know—good enough to eat—and meet us at Christo’s for dinner. I’ll make reservations for seven at three, umm, better make that three at seven. I love you.” He finished with a kiss.

Sweet man, Marc. A real find, though he’s always saying he got the best of the bargain. Others said so too, though she didn’t buy into that. True, he’s not quite as good looking as her first husband.
Hmm…She cupped her chin. His name was Jack, too. God, that man could send her into orbit. Problem was, when they weren’t floating through the heavens just above their bed having glorious, hot, erotic sex, they’d argue and fight like a couple of spoiled kids. Truthfully they had nothing in common except sumptuous, erotic sex. Moreover, his looks were a magnet for women. Her best friend even went after him. After their divorce, she took a new job and moved to Phoenix, after which her ex and former best friend got married.

Oh well, Marcus was rock steady, nice looking, great in bed, too, and—and this was a big one—he made her laugh. Life was fun with Marc. She missed him already. She had better go and make herself pretty like he asked.

At six-fifteen, she pulled up to the valet. She took a quick look in the rearview mirror and reassured herself she looked good. She did. She should. Beauty was her business. She was a fashion model.
She wore her long light-chestnut hair up, curled, and tied at the back with a white ribbon. Three loose ringlets hung beside her lightly blushed cheeks, the way Marc liked it. Her deep brown eyes were lightly shadowed in a silvery blue blend. And of course her full lips gleamed with her trademark crystal peach lipstick. She topped that off with a low cut, black and white, full, above-the-knee cocktail dress plus wrap, open toed, three-and-a-half-inch heeled white sandals with a bow. She looked good enough—as they say—“to die for.” After the valet picked his jaw up from the ground, he opened the door of her six-figure Mercedes convertible. She got out and strutted into Christo’s as if she didn’t have a care in the world, which she didn’t…yet.

She knew Marc had made the reservations for seven o’clock, so she turned right and headed straight into…eek, Jack.

“Excuse me, I didn’t see you…Sera? Is that you? You are fucking gorgeous.”

Oh, yeah, she forgot. Jack had a foul mouth. “I’m meeting my husband and a friend. What the eff are you doing here?” To be fair, she’d been known to throw a few F-bombs around, too. “Don’t tell me you’re the friend?”

His eyes grew wide in realization as he inquired, “Marc?”

She nodded earnestly and grabbed his arm. “Let’s talk in the foyer.” She jerked him toward the reception area. When out of ear and eyeshot from the lounge, she turned to her ex. “All right, buster. What the eff is going on?”

With his eyes still wide open, he shrugged. “I ran into Marc at a business meeting this morning. We were roommates at college for three years, right here at ASU. God, Sera, you look good enough to eat.”
“That’s the idea.”

“What?”

“Nothing. I always look good. I looked good for you, but you only notice what you don’t have.”

He stepped away. This man, who could start a fire in her belly with a glance, stroked and titillated her body with his searing brown eyes as his gaze wandered over every inch of her, and some places twice. He hadn’t changed. He was still Adonis incarnate, and she was ready to melt. She staggered and his arms reached out in support, but not the kind of support she needed. With his large strong hands wrapped around her bare arms, her pulse shot skyward and her heart pounded so loud she felt it in her ears.

“Boy, did I fuck up,” he admitted.

God help her. In the eighteen months she and Marc had been married she’d never even thought about another man. Now, a little incubus whispered in her ear, “Lift up your skirt, pull down your panties and say, ‘Take me, I’m yours.’”

“Beth didn’t hold a candle to you.”

The mention of Beth allowed her to regain some measure of composure. She felt her jaw tighten. Through gritted teeth, she snarled, “and just how is dear, sweet Beth?”

“Oh, that’s one of the things Marc and I are celebrating. My divorce became final the day before yesterday.”

Jesus, the man is on the prowl. Can it get any worse?

“You know, I’m really sorry about the foul up with the hotel reservation. I promise I’ll keep such a low profile, you won’t even notice I’m staying with you for the three-day weekend.”

The man she was ready to disrobe for right there was going to be staying with them? This can’t be real. She pinched herself. Oww! It was real all right. How could she get out of this with her honor intact? Is suicide honorable? “Let me get this straight. My ex-husband divorces my ex-best friend and my husband and I are going to help you celebrate? Why would we do that?”

He cocked his head with a silly smile gracing his sexy lips, stuck his palms out to the side face up, and shrugged. “You wouldn’t. Marc says we’re going to find me a girlfriend. A nice Arizona girl.”

“Good, I can dig that, but what are we going to do? Marc would die if he found out the jerk I was—”

“What do you mean jerk?”

“That’s what I call you—jerk. I think having an affair with my best friend and then marrying her qualifies you for that title. Don’t you?”
He scratched his wavy dark hair. “Yeah, I guess. Seeing you again makes me realize what a jerk I was.


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