Wallbanger (The Cocktail Series Book 1)

BY THE TIME CLIVE finally settled down and stopped his cat screaming, I was thoroughly exhausted and wide awake. I had to get up in one more hour anyway, and I realized I’d already gotten whatever sleep I was going to get. I might as well get up and make some breakfast.

“Stupid meower,” I said, addressing the wall behind my head, and I padded out into the living room. After switching on the TV, I turned on the coffee maker and studied the pre-dawn light just starting to peek in my windows. Clive curled around my legs, and I rolled my eyes at him.

“Oh, now you want some love from me, huh? After abandoning me for Purina last night? What a jerk you are, Clive,” I muttered, stretching out my foot and rubbing him with my heel.

He flopped onto the ground and posed for me. He knew I couldn’t resist when he posed. I laughed a little and kneeled next to him. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You love me now because I’m the one that keeps you in vittles.” I sighed, scratching his belly.

I headed back into the kitchen, Clive at my heels, and poured some food into a bowl. Now that he had what he needed, I was quickly forgotten. As I headed for the shower, I heard movement in the hallway. Like the Peeping Caroline I was quickly becoming, I pressed my eye to the peephole to see what was happening with Simon and Purina.

He stood just inside his doorway—far enough inside that I couldn’t see his face. Purina stood in the hall, and I could see his hand running through her long hair. I could practically hear her purring through the goddamned door.

“Mmm, Simon, last night was…mmmm,” she purred, leaning into his hand, which was now pressed against her cheek.

“I agree. A fine way to describe the evening and this morning,” he said quietly as they both chuckled.

Nice. Another twofer.

“Call me when you’re back in town?” she asked as he swept her hair back from her face. Her freshly done face. I miss that face.

“Oh, you can count on that,” he answered, and then pulled her back into the doorway for what I can only assume was a kiss that killed. Her foot came up like she was posing. I started to roll my eyes, but that hurt. The right one was pressed so firmly against the peephole, you see.

“Do svidaniya,” she whispered in that exotic accent. It sounded much nicer now that she wasn’t caterwauling like a kitten in heat.

“See ya,” he laughed, and with that, she gracefully walked away.

I strained to see him before he went back inside, but nope. Missed him again. I had to admit, after the spanking and the meowing, I was dying to see what he looked like. There was some serious sexual prowess going on next door. I just didn’t see why it had to affect my sleep habits. I pried myself away from the door and made for the shower. Under the water, I pondered what in the world might be required to make a woman meow.

As seven thirty rolled around, I hopped a cable car and reviewed the day ahead of me. I was meeting a new client, finishing up some details on a project I’d just completed, and having lunch with my boss. I smiled when I thought about Jillian.

Jillian Sinclair headed her own design firm, where I’d had the good fortune to intern during my last year at Berkley. In her late thirties, but looking in her late twenties, she’d made a name for herself in the design community early in her career. She challenged convention, was one of the first to sweep “shabby chic” off the map, and had been an early trendsetter in bringing back the quiet neutrals and geometric prints of the “modern” look that was all the rage now. She hired me after my internship was over, and she’d provided the best experience a young designer could ask for. She was challenging, discerning, had a killer instinct and an even more killer eye for detail. But the best part about working for her? She was fun.

As I jumped off the cable car, I caught sight of my “office.” Jillian Designs was in Russian Hill, a beautiful part of town: fairy tale mansions, quiet streets, and a fantastic view from the taller peaks. Some of the larger old homes had been converted to commercial space, and our building was one of the nicest.

I breathed a sigh when I entered my office. Jillian wanted each designer to make their space their own. It was a way to show potential clients what they could expect, and I’d put a lot of thought into my work space. Deep gray walls were accented by plush, salmon pink curtains. My desk was dark ebony with a chair draped in soft gold and champagne silks. The room was quietly distinguished—with a touch of whimsy coming from my collection of Campbell’s Soup ads from the thirties and forties. I’d found a bunch of them at a tag sale, all clipped from old issues of Life magazine. I had them mounted and framed, and I still chuckled every time I looked at them.

I spent a few minutes throwing out the flowers from last week and arranging a new display. Every Monday I stopped in a local shop to choose flowers for the week. The blooms changed, but the colors tended to fall within the same palette. I was particularly fond of deep oranges and pinks, peaches and warm golds. Today I had chosen hybrid tea roses of a beautiful coral color, the tips tinged raspberry.

I stifled a yawn and sat down at my desk, preparing for the day. I caught sight of Jillian as she breezed past my door and waved at her. She came back and stuck her head in. Always pulled together, she was tall, lean, and lovely. Today, clad in black top to bottom but for the fuchsia peep-toe pumps she was rocking, she was chic.

“Hey, girl! How’s the apartment?” she asked, sitting in the chair across from my desk.

“Fantastic. Thank you again so much! I can never repay you for this. You are the best,” I gushed.

Jillian had sublet her apartment to me, which she’d had since she moved into the city years ago. Now she was refinishing a house in Sausalito. Rents being what they were in the city, it was a no brainer. The rent control made the price obscenely low. I prepared to gush further when she stopped me with a wave of her hand.

“Shush, it’s nothing. I know I should get rid of it, but it was my first grown-up place in the city, and for the rent it would just break my heart to let it go! Besides, I like the idea of it being lived in again. It’s such a great neighborhood.”

She smiled, and I stifled another yawn. Her sharp eyes caught it.

“Caroline, it’s Monday morning. How can you be yawning already?” she chided.

I laughed. “When’s the last time you slept there, Jillian?” I looked at her over the rim of my coffee cup. It was my third already. I’d be cruising soon.

“Oh boy, it’s been a while. Maybe a year ago? Benjamin was out of town, and I still had a bed over there. Sometimes when I was working late I’d stay in the city overnight. Why do you ask?”

Benjamin was her fiancé. Self-made millionaire, venture capitalist, and knockout gorgeous. My friends and I had a killer crush.

“Did you hear anything from next door?” I asked.

“No, no. I don’t think so. Like what?”

“Hmm, just noises. Late-night noises.”

“No, not when I was there. I don’t know who lives there now, but I think someone moved in last year, maybe? The year before? Never met him. Why? What did you hear?”

I blushed furiously and sipped my coffee.

“Wait a minute. Late-night noises? Caroline? Seriously? Did you hear some sexy times?” she prodded.

I thumped my head on the desk. Oh, God. Flashbacks. No more thumping. I peeked up at her, and she had her head thrown back in laughter.

“Aw jeez, Caroline. I had no idea! The last neighbor I remember was in his eighties, and the only noise I ever heard coming from that bedroom was reruns of Gunsmoke. But come to think of it, I could hear that TV show remarkably well…” She trailed off.

“Yes, well, Gunsmoke isn’t what’s coming through those walls now. Straight up sex is coming through those walls. And not sweet, boring sex either. We’re talking…interesting.” I smiled.

“What did you hear?” she asked, her eyes lighting up.

I don’t care how old you are, or what background you come from, there are two universal truths. We will always laugh at…gas if it happens at the wrong time, and we are always curious about what goes on in other people’s bedrooms.

“Jillian, seriously. It was like nothing I’ve ever heard before! The first night, they were banging the wall so hard a picture fell off and hit me on the head!”

Her eyes widened, and she leaned forward on my desk. “Shut up!”

“I will not! Then I heard…Jesus, I heard spanking.” I was discussing spanking with my boss. Do you see why I love my life?

“Nooo,” she breathed, and we giggled like schoolgirls.

“Yeesss. And he made my bed move, Jillian. Made it move! I saw her the next morning, as Spanx was leaving.”

“You call her Spanx?”

“You bet! And then last night—”

“Two nights in a row! Spanx got spanked again?”

“Oh no, last night I was treated to a freak of nature I’ve named Purina,” I continued.

“Purina? I don’t get it.” She frowned.

“The Russian he made meow last night.”

She laughed again, causing Steve from accounting to stick his head in the door.

“What are you two hens clucking about in here?” he asked, shaking his head.

“Nothing,” we answered at the same time, then cracked up again.

“Two women in two nights, that’s impressive.” She sighed.

“Come on, impressive? No. Manwhore? Yes.”

“Wow, do you know his name?”

“I do, in fact. His name is Simon. I know this because Spanx and Purina kept screaming it over and over again. I could make it out over the banging…Stupid wall banger,” I muttered.

She was silent for a moment, and then she grinned. “Simon Wallbanger—I love it!”

“Yeah, you love it. You didn’t have your cat trying to mate with Purina through the wall last night.” I chuckled ruefully and laid my head back on the desk as we continued to giggle.

“Okay, let’s get to work,” Jillian finally said, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I need you to land these new clients today. What time are they coming in?”

“Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Nicholson are here at one. I’ve got the presentation and the plans all ready for them. I think they’ll really like the way I redesigned their bedroom. We’re going to be able to offer an en suite sitting room and an entirely new bathroom. It’s pretty great.”

“I believe you. Can you run through your ideas with me at lunch?”

“Yep, I’m all over it,” I answered as she headed for the door.

“You know, Caroline, if you can land this job, it would be huge for the firm,” she said, eying me over her tortoiseshell glasses.

“Just wait until you see what I came up with for their new home theater.”

“They don’t have a home theater.”

“Not yet they don’t,” I said, arching my eyebrows and grinning devilishly.

“Nice,” she appraised and left to start her day.

The Nicholsons were definitely a couple I wanted—everyone did. Mimi had done some work for Natalie Nicholson, blueblood and well heeled, when she reorganized her office last year. She referred me when interior design hit the table, and I immediately started plans for their bedroom remodel.

Wallbanger. Pffft.

“Fantastic, Caroline. Simply fantastic,” Natalie raved as I walked her and her husband to the front door. We’d spent almost two hours going through the plans, and while we’d compromised on a few key points, it was going to be an exciting project.

“So, you think you’re the right designer for us?” Sam asked, his deep brown eyes twinkling as he wrapped his arm around his wife’s waist and played with her ponytail.

“You tell me,” I teased back, smiling at the two of them.

“I think we would love to work with you on this project,” Natalie said as we shook hands.

I internally high-fived myself, but kept my face composed. “Excellent. I’ll be in touch very soon, and we can get started on a schedule,” I said as I held the door for them.

I stood in the doorway as I waved them off, then let the door close behind me. I glanced over at Ashley, our receptionist. She raised her eyebrows at me, and I raised mine right back.

“So?” she asked.

“Oh yeah. Nailed it,” I sighed, and we both squealed. Jillian came down the stairs as we danced about, and she stopped short. “What the hell happened down here?” she asked, grinning.

“Caroline got hired by the Nicholsons!” Ashley squealed again.

“Nice.” Jillian gave me a quick hug. “Proud of you, kid,” she whispered, and I beamed. I freaking beamed.

I danced back to my office, putting a little bump and grind in it as I made my way around the desk. I sat down, twirled in my chair, and looked out onto the bay.

Well played, Caroline. Well played.

That night when I went out to celebrate my success with Mimi and Sophia, I may have imbibed more than a few margaritas. I continued with tequila shots, and I was still licking at the now-nonexistent salt on the inside of my wrist as they walked me up my stairs.

“Sophia, you’re so pretty. You know that, right?” I cooed, leaning on her as we crawled up the stairs.

“Yes, Caroline, I’m pretty. Good grasp on the obvious,” she said. At almost six feet tall with fiery red hair, Sophia was keenly aware her looks.

Mimi laughed, and I turned to her.

“And you, Mimi, you’re my best friend. And you’re so tiny! I bet I could carry you around in my pocket.” I giggled as I tried to find my pocket. Mimi was a petite Filipino, with caramel skin and the blackest hair.

“We should have cut her off after the guacamole left the table,” Mimi muttered. “She is never allowed to drink again without food present.” She dragged me up the last few steps.

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” I complained, taking off my jacket and starting in on my shirt.

“Okay, let’s not get naked here in the hallway, huh?” Sophia shot back, taking my keys from my purse and opening my door. I tried to kiss her on the cheek, and she pushed me off.

“You smell like tequila and sexual repression, Caroline. Get off me.” She laughed and opened my door. As we traveled to the bedroom, I caught sight of Clive on the windowsill.

“Hey there, Clive. How’s my big boy?” I sang.

He glared at me and stalked off to the living room. He disapproved of my alcohol use. I stuck my tongue out at him. I flopped down on the bed and surveyed my girls in the doorway. They smirked in that you-are-drunk-and-we-are-not-so-we-judge way.

“Don’t act all high and mighty, ladies. I’ve seen you more drunk than this on many an occasion,” I noted, my pants going the way of my blouse. Ask me why I kept my heels on, and I will never be able to tell you.

The two of them pulled down the duvet, and I crawled under the covers and glared. They tucked me in so well that the only things sticking out were my eyeballs, my nostrils, and my messy hair.

“Why is the room spinning? What the hell did you guys do to Jillian’s apartment? She’ll kill me if I mess up her rent control!” I cried, moaning as I watched the room move.

“The room isn’t spinning. Settle down.” Mimi chuckled, sitting next to me and patting my shoulder.

“And that thumping, what the hell is that thumping?” I whispered into Mimi’s armpit, which I then sniffed and complimented her deodorant choice.

“Caroline, there’s no thumping. Jesus, you must have had more than we thought!” Sophia exclaimed, settling down at the end of the bed.

“No, Sophia, I hear it too. You can’t hear that?” Mimi said in a hushed voice.

Sophia was quiet, and all three of us listened. There was a distinct thump, and then an unmistakable groan.

“Kittens, lay back. You are about to get Wallbanged,” I stated.

Sophia and Mimi’s eyes grew wide, but they stayed quiet.

Would it be Spanx? Purina? Anticipating the latter, Clive entered the room and jumped up on the bed. He stared at the wall with rapt attention.

The four of us sat and waited. I can barely describe what we were subjected to this time.

“Oh, God.”

Thump.

“Oh, God.”

Thump thump.

Mimi and Sophia looked at Clive and me. We just shook our heads—both of us, really. A slow smile spread across Sophia’s face. I focused on the voice coming through the wall. It was different…The pitch was lower, and, well, I couldn’t really make out exactly what she was saying. It wasn’t Spanx or Purina…

“Mmm, Simon —” giggle “— right —” giggle “— there!” giggle.

Huh?

“Yes, yes —” snort “— yes! Fuck, fuck —” giggle-hee haw “— fuck, yes!”

She was giggling. She was a dirty, dirty giggler.

The three of us tittered along with her as she giggled and snorted her way toward what sounded like one helluva climax. Clive, realizing quickly that his beloved wasn’t making an appearance, beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen.

“What the hell is this?” Mimi whispered, her eyes as wide as apple pies.

“This is the sexual torture I’ve been listening to for the last two nights. You have no idea,” I growled, feeling the effects of the tequila.

“LaughyPants has been getting done like this for the last two nights?” Sophia cried, slapping her hand over her mouth as more moaning laughter filtered through the wall.

“Oh, hell no. Tonight is the first night I’ve had the pleasure of this one. The first night was Spanx. She was a naughty, naughty girl and needed to be punished. And last night Clive met the love of his life when Purina made her debut— ”

“Why do you call her Purina?” Sophia interrupted.

“Because she meows when he makes her come,” I said, hiding under the covers. My buzz was beginning to fade, replaced by the distinct lack of sleep I’d experienced since moving into this den of debauchery.

Sophia and Mimi peeled the covers from my face just as the chick screamed, “Oh, God that’s…that’s —” hahahaha “— so good!”

“The guy next door can make a woman meow?” Sophia asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Apparently so.” I chuckled, feeling the first wave of nausea wash over me.

“Why is she laughing? Why would anyone be laughing while they’re getting done like that?” Mimi asked.

“No idea, but it’s nice to hear she’s enjoying herself,” Sophia said, laughing herself at a particularly loud guffaw. Guffaw my aunt Fanny…

“Have you seen this guy yet?” asked Mimi, still staring at the wall.

“Nope. My peephole is getting a workout, though.”

“Glad to hear at least one hole is getting some around here,” Sophia muttered.

I glared at her. “Charming, Sophia. I’ve seen the back of his head, and that’s it,” I answered, sitting up.

“Wow, three girls in three nights. That’s some kind of stamina,” Mimi said, still looking in wonder at the wall.

“It’s some kind of disgusting is what it is. I can’t even sleep at night! My poor wall!” I wailed as I heard a deep groan from him.

“Your wall, what does your wall have to do —” Sophia began, and I held up my hand.

“Wait for it, please,” I said. He began to bring it on home.

The wall began to shake with the rhythmic banging, and the woman’s giggles got louder and louder. Sophia and Mimi stared in wonder, as I just shook my head.

I could hear Simon moaning, and I knew he was getting close. But his sounds were quickly drowned out by this evening’s friend.

“Oh —” giggle “— that’s —” giggle “— it —” giggle “— don’t —” giggle “— stop —” giggle “— don’t —” giggle “— stop —” giggle “— oh —” giggle-snort “— God —” giggle-giggle snort-snort “— don’t —” giggle “— stop!” giggle.

Please. Please. Please, stop, I thought.

Giggle-sniffle.

And with one last giggle and groan, silence fell across the land. Sophia and Mimi looked at each other, and Sophia said, “Oh.”

“My,” added Mimi.

“God,” they said together.

“And that’s why I can’t sleep,” I sighed.

While the three of us recovered from the Giggler, Clive returned to play in the corner with a cotton ball.

Giggler, I think I hate you most of all…