Plantation Read Online Free PDF

wheels. Not even a headboard. Big deal.
    Suddenly I wished I had the time and available cash to run to Laura Ashley and cover my bed in beautiful white linens and lacy pillows. I dug through my linen closet with a fury, pulling out everything and anything that would even mildly suggest virginity.
    This search bore little fruit, but I did manage to find a set of sheets with scalloped edges I had forgotten about, and a deep rose, soft wool blanket. I plumped the bejesus out of my four sorry-ass beat-up pillows, sprayed them with cologne, and decided it would just have to do. In a moment of sheer brazenness, I turned the bed down. Nap, anyone? I laughed out loud and looked at my watch.
    Six-fifteen. Forty-five minutes until kick-off. Okay, shower, shave, and moisturize.
    Fifteen minutes later I heard the doorman buzzer. My hair was wet, I was wrapped in a towel, and Richard was early. Shit! What could I do? Nothing. I opened the door and there he stood.
    “Am I early?” he said, handing me a bouquet of the deepest red roses.
    “Oh! Thank you! Heavens to Betsy, no! Come on in! I was just, I was just, oh hell, did we say six-thirty? I’m sorry.” My temperature rose to about one hundred and seven from embarrassment as I shut the door.
    “I don’t remember,” he said, “forgive me. Caroline?”
    “Yes?” We were staring into each other’s eyes, my knees were inexplicably rubbery, and I felt like I was free-falling into space.

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    D o r o t h e a B e n t o n F r a n k
    “I never dreamed someone could be quite so fetching in a towel,” he said in a low quiet voice.
    God damn. He sounded like James Bond again. Then I looked down at my bare feet and recovered immediately. “Doctor? Please allow this Magnolia a few moments to find her hoopskirts! Better yet, why don’t you put on some music and open the wine?”
    “Ah! God knows I love a woman with wit! Where’s the corkscrew?”
    “Second drawer on the left of the stove.”
    I put his flowers in the sink and hopped by him to escape. He couldn’t resist tugging on my towel and I yelped and laughed. I did, however, lock the door to my bathroom while I did the fastest makeup and hair job of my life. I threw the proverbial sleeveless little black dress over my head, creamed the hell out of my legs and arms, and slipped on a pair of low-heeled black suede sandals. One gold bracelet, fake diamond studs. No doubt about it, I was going to have my way with him. He probably wouldn’t even put up a fight.
    When I showed up in the kitchen doorway, he handed me a goblet of red wine and exhaled. We clinked glasses, took a sip, and our eyes never left each other’s face.
    “I need to cook dinner,” I said. My voice was husky and uneven.
    “Would you mind terribly if I kissed you first? I’ve had the shape of your mouth on my mind all day.”
    I gasped. I couldn’t help it, but I gasped in surprise. Some seductress I was. “You have?” Oh, yeah, Miss Groovy strikes again.
    He moved in closer until I could smell his breath, which bore the unmistakable traces of toothpaste.
    “Yes, I have,” he said and put his hand in the crook of my back, pulling me closer to him.
    “I smell mint,” I said and then chastised myself for saying something so stupid.
    He held me back for a moment and smiled. “Are you allergic to mint?”

    P l a n t a t i o n
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    “Hell, no,” I said, opening my eyes wide, knowing that each syllable I uttered made me sound more and more like a perfect moron.
    “Do you like mint?” he said. I guess he thought torturing me was fun.
    “Yes!”
    “Because I have cinnamon gum in my jacket and I could chew . . .”
    “Richard?” I pretended to faint, falling backward in his arm.
    “I’m dying here!”
    “Come here, pussycat, Uncle Richard wants to tickle your whiskers.”
    That was the end of that nonsense. By the time his mouth covered mine we had tasted each other’s breath, teased each other’s mind, and kicked the ball to the thirty-yard