Shake Down the Stars Read Free

recurring dream that I can somehow get ahold of a mere quarter of his earnings and give it to the fledging school district where I teach.
    I hear a cautious knock at the door, and assuming it’s the troll, tell him to come in. When he sees me in my shorts and T-shirt, he gawks as though I’m wearing a negligee. “You look amazing.”
    â€œCould you do us both a favor and drop the gigolo act?”
    â€œWho’s acting? You look good, girl.” He claps his hands together and steps farther inside. “Nice digs. I likes.”
    He wears a patterned silk robe and brown slippers; his calf muscles bulge beneath the black trim of his robe as he struts around. “I try to work out at least four times a week,” he announces before disrobing. He flexes his muscles. He’s naked except for the slippers and a pair of black silk boxers. “May I?” he asks, eyeing the various bottles of booze on top of the antique bar.
    â€œHelp yourself.”
    He pours a shot of bourbon and downs it with a quick shake of the head and smack of the lips. He then flicks off his shoes and leaps kiddie-style onto the bed, giving the empty space beside him a few pats. “We don’t have much time, baby. I want you to experience what many have said is the best love they’ve ever had.”
    I take a sip of my own drink, and then another. “I’m sure I’m about to experience something.”
    I keep my eyes trained on the ceiling as he kisses me. He’s a surprisingly good kisser, but I realize I’m not drunk enough to do what we’re about to do, and all too soon his tongue feels more like a wet mass of wiggling flesh, and my own tongue, horrified, begins to retreat.
    â€œWhat’s wrong, baby? You seem a little tense.”
    â€œI think I need another drink.”
    â€œYou don’t need another drink; you need to relax. Why don’t you smile for me? If I see that kilowatt smile of yours, I’ll be able to turn on the magic and you’ll feel good in no time.” He snaps his fingers to a beat only he can hear. “You wanna have a good time, don’t you?” he says, going into his James Brown. “I say, ‘You wanna have a good time?’” When he juts his elbows out and starts bobbing his head, I smile. He actually has a sweet face. Nice long eyelashes. Big brown eyes. Soft lips.
    â€œThere’s that smile.” He grins. He stares down at me and touches my chin with his finger. This time when we kiss, I find myself thinking about a certain activity that would help me relax even more. I turn away so that he can no longer kiss my face. I then push his shoulders, nudging him southward.
    It doesn’t take him long to get the hint, and he begins to wiggle his way under the sheets like an excited seal. He stops just before his head is about to disappear. “I’ve been told I’m the best there is when it comes to certain oral delights.”
    â€œYou certainly talk a lot.”
    He gives me a wink and disappears under the blankets. I’m feeling better and thinking that things just might work out, when there’s a tap at the door followed by Margot bursting into the room without the prerequisite “Come in
.
”
    I immediately use my thighs as a vise, willing Selwyn not to budge. I then quickly tuck his robe behind my pillow and rearrange the blankets into a huge mound over my knees, clutching a second pillow to my chest for good measure.
    â€œI can’t believe this weather,” she says. “Why me? Why today?”
    One good thing about narcissism: Margot doesn’t notice my erratic behavior for a second; nor does she notice the pile of blankets. Honestly, she’s just that self-centered.
    â€œHaven’t you ever heard of waiting for permission before walking into someone’s room
?”
I give my thighs a firm squeeze and speak loudly enough that Selwyn will get the point—
Do not