The Unidentified Redhead (1) by Alice Clayton Page A

just said.
    Too early, Grace.
    “Wait, don't I get to lay any claims tonight?” he protested.
    Maybe not too early…
    “None of my claims are getting laid tonight, but go ahead.”
    “You're not allowed to sleep with anyone who has ever watched a reality show on MTV,” he continued in a silky voice.
    “So there is, like, an after midnight clause?” I teased.
    “Don't tempt me, Grace, or I'll comb every club in West Hollywood looking for you, starting at the stroke of midnight,” he stated matter-of-factly.
    My toes curled. I still needed that second shot of Hamilton.
    “Heh heh, you said—” I started.
    “Stroke. I know, I said, 'stroke.' I'm on to you, Sheridan,” he reminded me.
    Please be on to me…at least on me.
    “OK, Holly's wearing a hole in the carpet outside my door. I need to get going. I'll speak to you soon?” I hated to get off the phone, but I couldn't take much more of this. The next time we bantered, I hoped it was with seriously less clothing on.
    “Yes, I need to meet up with my mates. I'll call you tomorrow. Don't put too much sparkle on your boobies. They look great, by the way. Nice robe.” He chuckled.
    “Thanks. I, wait, how did you know I'm wearing a—”
    “Night, Grace,” he whispered.
    I sat for a minute on my bed.
    What the fudge?
    I heard a snicker and looked toward the door. There was Holly with her camera phone. On the screen was a picture of me just a few minutes ago. My robe had fallen open just enough that you could see the tops of my yahoos, to say nothing of how high it was open on my legs.
    The worst part was that she had taken it when I was screaming after he said “shrimp on the barbie.” I looked like I was in a porno.
    She danced away from my lunge and said, “Never throw your loofah at me again. I know where it's been.”
     

The_Unidentified_Redhead

Chapter Nine
    The night was fun. Holly and I met up with Nick at a club in West Hollywood. They were having “decades” night and we danced all night in the 80's room. I didn't mention to Nick the fact that I had been engaged in a back-and-forth with Jack. First, I knew how big a crush he really did have. Second, he worked in the industry too, and that was just too tempting a rumor.
    After the hangover from the other day, I made sure to restrict myself to a two drink maximum, despite Nick's best attempts to get me wasted and on stage with a drag queen. It was not going to happen—the getting wasted part. I did dance on the stage…
    I packed my tired ass into bed sometime after three—well past my bedtime—and was asleep almost instantly, although not so instantly that I didn't spare a thought to the Brit, and wondered whether he was home yet or not.
    ***
    Only a few hours later, after some much needed power sleeping, I decided to go for another run in Griffith Park. As I drove through the canyons on the way, my phone rang. It was the Brit.
    “Hey there,” I chirped merrily into the phone. I was happier than I wanted to be to talk to him.
    “Hey, Nuts Girl. What are you up to?” he asked, his voice deliciously thick. He sounded like he'd just woken up.
    “I'm going for a run. You?”
    “I'm still in bed, trying to decide if I can talk the girl at Starbucks into making a home delivery. Is it too pretentious to ask if she's a Time fan?” he asked, already knowing my answer.
    “Yes, it is. Don't you dare,” I chided.
    “Where are you going for your run?” he inquired, setting me up. I let him.
    “Griffith Park, why?”
    “Oh, that's really close to my place. Pity I don't know who that unidentified redhead was. I bet she'd get me some coffee.”
    “Maybe if you ask really nice and then you kiss on her for awhile, she might consider it,” I teased, loving where this was leading.
    “That's a deal. When I see her, I'll kiss on her until she tells me to stop.”
    “Who says she'll tell you to stop?” I hinted.
    “Well, then you better get your sweet ass over here so I can begin the kissing,”