Chapter 4

Thank god for Peter's wrist alarm otherwise, neither of us would have made it out on time the next morning. He actually kissed me goodbye on the way out the door.

"Fag," I said with a slight smile.

"Pussy," he teased back.

Half an hour later, I was frantically dialing his cell.

"I got two minutes. What?"

"What do you wear to a manicure?"

"Excuse me?"

"Ame gets pissy about how I dress. She's got a manicure this morning. What should I wear?"

"Hmm, tricky," he mused. "Yeah, that is a tough one. Oh wait, I know. Clothes." He hung up.

"Asshole," I muttered at the dial tone.

I picked something and got to Ame's dorm early. I was waiting in her lobby when she got off the elevator. She didn't actually greet me, but she almost cracked a smile.

At the spa, she greeted the receptionist in what I guess was either Korean or Vietnamese. I didn't speak either — well, not more than a few words, at least. Ame paid up front then we were ushered in. There were more Asian women; I was the only guy of any group.

"Ok, so I'm gonna find a coffee shop or something..." I started but she cut me off.

"Sit down over there."

I sighed silently and sat in the indicated fancy massage chair. One of the women got it started for me. Then she started taking off my shoes.

"Whoa, whoa! Not me, uh, her!"

Ame gave a frustrated gasp, "Take your shoes off and put your feet in the soak." She was doing the same. My feet actually felt pretty good in the bubbling jets. Ame had tiny feet — a proportional match for her delicate features and small frame. It was unexpectedly intimate; the first bit of her I'd seen naked. I sat back and watched as another woman began rubbing and buffing Ame's feet. Very erotic. So much so, I didn't complain when I felt them start with mine. I hoped this qualified as foreplay 'cause if they had uh place, I could make time.

I watched as the woman applied bright pink polish to Ame's toenails and glanced down to see what they were doing to me. She'd already applied the same color to half my foot.

I almost kicked her in the face trying to pull my foot away, "Hey! Hey! What the fuck..."

Ame hit me with the magazine she was reading. "Sit back or you'll smear it and she'll have to start over."

I looked at her, mouth open to argue. She looked back with her usual nearly blank expression.

Then I felt it. The same warm tingly feeling I got when Peter made me do something embarrassing but secret. Like wear my collar and leash under my shirt all day. Or the extensive lingerie collection he had just to fuck with me. My dick lurched as I sat back and watched the woman apply bright pink polish to the rest of my toes.

I had been marked. It was not permanent, but it was very visible.

"How long is this gonna last?" I asked her.

"A month or so. Unless I re-apply it." She almost smiled again.

I concentrated on keeping my breathing level, on not letting on how much it turned me on. Peter didn't mark me for two years and even then, I had to beg him for it. Of course, that one was permanent. This was ... different. A bit emasculating, which from her was... ?

Hot. Very, very, very hot.

When they finished with our feet, they gave us a pair of flip-flops and sat us at separate manicure stations. This time I paid close attention as the woman massaged, cleaned, moisturized, trimmed and filed my fingernails. When she reached for the polish, I pulled my hand firmly away. "No." After a brief hesitation, she put the polish down and picked up another tool. Warily, I gave her my hand back and she buffed my nails 'til they shined. It didn't look like polish, but my hands did looked Polished. Now I knew what to give Peter on his next birthday; he'd love that kinda shit.

I sat at the nail drying station and only waited a couple of minutes — flipping through an old issue of Cosmo — before Ame joined me. Her nails were a delicate, pale peach. "Pretty."

"I thought so. Ngoc is very talented. Hands?"

I showed her my hands and she got her approval.

"Are you actually reading that?"

"No," I laughed, "I'm a pain slut not a sissy."

"You won't be spending much time with me if you cannot be less vulgar."

"Ah. Right. Sorry." She was stuck sitting with her finger spread under a heat lamp. "Can I get you anything?"

"No. About tonight. Amanda will be attending with Foster who is her fiancé — despite the behavior you witnessed from her. He is black. I trust you have no racial issues?"

"What, you mean with the Asian girl I'm chasing or my black grandmother?"

"I hadn't realized."

"Yep." I pulled out a photo of my redneck grandfather and dark black grandmother. "Got married as soon as it was legal."

She nodded as if this news met with her approval. "My mother was Vietnamese so Father is very concerned about race relations. It's still a very large issue in Alexandria."

"That where his council seat is?"

"Yes."

I nodded. "Your mom gonna be there?"

Her body went stiff and a fleeting look of pain crossed her face. "No. We don't discuss her," she hesitated before adding. "She died in childbirth when my sister and I were born.

"Oh. Uh..." Of all the thoughtless ... she even said 'was'.

"You needn't panic. You couldn't have known. It was a perfectly reasonable question."

"Yeah, but still, I'm-"

"Please. Drop it." I closed my mouth and nodded once.

"Thank you. Now, Foster has political aspirations so he and father will get mired in the topic. Please don't feel obligated to join in — I'd rather you remain silent than be drawn into a debate you are ill equipped for. Father is a football fan so if the opportunity comes up feel free to discuss sports."

I listened to her go on. Uncle Julius made sure that we were all versed in politics and I did actually read a newspaper on occasion. I didn't know how stupid she thought I was but I hoped I'd surprise her.

"Do you dance?" she asked suddenly.

"Oh we square dance up at the holler..." I started but her look stopped that.

"Not cute. I will ask again, do you dance?"

"Yeah. I mean formal stuff. I was — ok, don't laugh — I was on my high school Ballroom Dance Team." My Gold Cup high school team to be exact.

Her look changed to one of disbelief. "Really? Waltz? Tango?"

I shrugged. "It was on a bet with Peter." I remembered Leigh and smiled "Then my girlfriend joined and it kinda stuck."

"Good. The restaurant has a live combo. I was hoping to dance with you rather than Foster. Foster, I should warn you, is what Father expects in a son-in-law so expect comments to that effect from Amanda. Is there anything else you need to know?"

I shrugged. I didn't need to know any of what she'd said so far. "What to wear, where to be, what time."

She made me write those details down. Then she surprised me and asked about the fishery. I glossed over the physical labor and when into detail about the front office stuff - just 'cause it bored me didn't mean I didn't know how the company works or how much we pulled in. But I figured Ame would care more about how many dollars than how many fish.

After twenty minutes or so, she checked her nails. "I'm dry," she said over me. "We may go."

"Ok." I had to admit, being ignored was beginning ta bug me. It was threatening to outweigh my attraction to her. I drove her, silently, back to campus. She opened her own car door.

"You will pick me up, here, at 6." she walked off and I debated standing her up just to teach the rude bitch a lesson.

Instead, I was in her lobby, properly dressed, at 5:45 - feeling like a complete pussy. With pink fuckin' toenails under my designer wingtips. At six on the dot, she stepped off the elevator and nodded to me. I opened all the doors, drove where she told me to and hung her coat when we got there.

"By the way," I said as I got the coat check tag, "you look lovely." She'd look great in a sack but the suit's cut was perfect and flattered her figure. I'd been checkin' her ass every chance I got.

She tilted her head at me, "You mean that, don't you?" I shrugged; I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it. "Thank you."

At the bar, I saw Wilson, Amanda and a guy the size of the Viking defensive line — not one player, the whole freakin' line. Ame greeted them cordially. I shook hands with Wilson.

"It's a pleasure to see you again, Sir."

"Mac." He looked surprised to see me. "Good to see you as well." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Amanda whisper something to Foster but I had one thing to take care of first.

"Actually, Sir, 'Mac' is an Ame thing. My name is Alex."

"And no one calls you Mac?"

I glanced at Ame and nodded. "No one."