Baby Batter by Alexis Angel

Author:Alexis Angel [Angel, Alexis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Naughty Angel Publishing
Published: 2017-12-20T18:30:00+00:00

Emily

WineBar’s townhouse seems perfect to me, even for Russian Hill. It’s a classic Edwardian-style house on a fairly flat, easy-to-walk block. In my experience, the area is also nice and quiet without too much traffic.

For whatever reason, that’s not the case as my taxi pulls up to the front of Kirk’s building—or as close as we can get to it. It looks like all the street parking is taken, and there’s a small crowd of people lingering idly in front of Kirk’s front door. I feel my stomach churn faintly, probably from stress.

What the hell is going on?

I step out of the taxi and begin walking toward the townhouse. Everybody outside the front of the building is mingling in groups. Most of them turn to look—or glare—at me as I approach.

This is already a lot different than my expectations. Instead of a small, intimate gathering of loved ones, this is clearly a full-fledged shindig with half the city in attendance. Instead of feeling self-conscious about meeting Kirk’s family, I’m strangely self-conscious about walking in alone at a giant party filled with strangers.

What’s that even about? I can run a room, command all the attention at a party. But right now I’m off-kilter. This whole meeting the family business has thrown me for a loop.

Whatever. Maybe it’s possible that, for business reasons, WineBar can hardly plan any event without a huge guest list. Maybe everyone’s out here and there aren’t actully that many people inside.

I keep my head up, eyes scanning the area as I saunter through the crowd and let myself through the front door.

Okay, yeah, it’s fucking packed.

Even with little open space, Kirk’s house seems larger than ever with hordes of people—strangers—milling around, their loud conversations echoing off the high ceilings.

The air is pungent with the combined scents of midmarket perfume, cologne, fancy beer, and liquors of all kinds. It’s like some hotel bar in Union Square on a Friday night, only with less tourists.

I need a fucking drink.

I point myself toward the rear entrance with determination. I know that WineBar has to be outside, no doubt at the center of the action. I’m almost ready to yell at him, but I fight the urge.

This is his barbecue, after all, and I’m ready to see where this is all going. Without having the floorplan of this place memorized, I find a quick route to the huge wrought-iron doors leading outside.

The crowd’s a bit thinner outside, but the setup’s still elaborate with tables, string lanterns, and downtempo electronica playing quietly from somewhere. There’s also the sound and smell of sizzling food…and there’s the grill.

More importantly, there’s WineBar with his back facing me.

And yes, of course, there are three women flocked around him, all wearing awfully unconservative dresses.

What. The. Fuck.

Maybe I should embrace that urge to yell.

I see WineBar’s face in profile as he turns and says something to the chestnut-haired girl in the black minidress on his left. All three women erupt in laughter, and Kirk has a stupid, fake little smile on his face.

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