Libido - 1 : instinctual psychic energy that in psychoanalytic theory is derived from primitive biological urges (as for sexual pleasure or self-preservation) and that is expressed in conscious activity
2 : sexual drive
*
Robyn sat alone on the railing of the massive sun deck and heaved a sigh of general discontent. Attending the engagement party of a fellow college alum while accompanied by your own future mother-in-law was certainly not her idea of a hot summer Saturday at the Jersey shore.
Robyn had never been one of those young women to revel in these 'girlie-girl' type celebrations, anyway, although Robyn herself wore a nearly two-carat diamond engagement ring on her own left hand. She had known her fiancee, Kevin, since their freshmen year in college, but it wasn't until he had procured the prestigious job on Wall Street with one of the leading investment houses in the country after commencement that she had shown Kevin any interest, feigned or otherwise.
She had known that Kevin had always had the hots for her, and once she met his family and saw their estate in Darien, Connecticut and the expansive beach house in Ocean City, New Jersey that was worth millions, the same house on whose deck she was now perched, well, she thought this just might be a family worth joining. At least for a few years, until the alimony became payable, she mused.
Robyn was unlike the other twenty-something women at the party in most ways, and she took not the slightest offense that the others found her aloof and snooty. In fact, Margaret Owens, the bride-to-be, was one of the few women that could tolerate Robyn, mainly because they were both so competitive, having been teammates on their school's basketball team for four years. Margaret's mother was also best friends with Robyn's fiancee's mom, Karen Richmond, who was hosting this party, and that was perhaps the only reason that Robyn felt compelled to even make a compulsory appearance at today's event, which Robyn considered a complete travesty.
Robyn was quite used to getting pretty much what she wanted, at least when it came to men. She was a tall, lean blonde stick of sexual pyrotechnics, who just happened to have a very discerning fuse. Money usually lit her fussy fuse, which was partially the reason that she still maintained a part-time job as an exotic dancer in the nations' capital, close to where she lived in Rockville, Maryland, despite working for a leading commercial real estate office in her full-time job.
Good Guys was one of those all-nude, BYOB joints that allowed Robyn to surreptitiously rake in well over seven or eight hundred dollars for one busy evening's work. She always found it sweetly ironic that, if she chose to, she could make more in a year with her body that Kevin could with his MBA and his Wall Street gig.
Maybe it was the third Seabreeze that she was sipping, or maybe because Kevin chose to go golfing today rather than attend this event with her, or maybe it was knowing that Kevin's mom, already more than wary about welcoming Robyn into the family, was watching Robyn's every move, but Robyn's always naughty libido was cresting in the warm mid-day sun. As she nibbled coyly on one of those teeny straws with the umbrellas on top (another pretentious charade associated with this party, Robyn thought) Robyn continued to peer behind her designer sunglasses at the only man at the party who attracted her attention.
She had asked Margaret about this older man, who was perhaps in his late forties or early fifties, and had the tanned, handsome look of a yachtsman, or certainly someone who spent a lot of time near the ocean. Robyn had always had a bit of a thing for older men, and there was more than one professor at the university who had exhaustedly scribbled an 'A' next to Robyn's name after a rousing skirmish with her hot little cunt, partially explaining her own summa cum laude honors at graduation.
Joe Quinn was his name, Margaret had said, a forty-something attorney from Northern Virginia, and a family friend of her fiancee's dad from childhood. What Margaret told her next surprised Robyn immensely, especially coming from the ultra-conservative, always politically correct and socially aware Margaret.
"And if you don't fuck him, I just might, for one last fling. He's so goddamned sexy."
That was all it took to set off Robyn's competitive desires. She took it as the veiled dare that is was. For four years in college she had outscored Margaret on the basketball court, and after graduation, it had been an unspoken but very real contest as to who would score the most affluent husband. Granted, Robyn had ventured into their post-graduation contest using different tactics than Margaret, who had just recently completed her own law degree, and had in turn landed a prominent partner at a firm Margaret had interned with. It was Margaret's brain against Robyn's body.
Margaret had no chance, Robyn smiled to herself, noticing that Joe Quinn was heading her way. She inched her butt up a little higher on the railing so that more of her shapely thigh was exposed beneath her pink sundress.
He smiled the brilliant smile of a man who was used to charming the panties off of women and the preferred verdicts out of juries. "Hi," he said, extending his hand. "I'm..."
Robyn held up her manicured hand in a time-out gesture. "Don't tell me, lemme guess." She dropped her sunglasses down her lightly freckled nose and scrunched up her brow as if deciphering hieroglyphics. She gave him the once over, her gaze lingering a nanosecond longer than it should have when it reached Joe's crotch, and she held her hands to her temple as if in a Carnac-like trance.
"Your name is..wait a second....I'm getting vibes....they're strong..stronger. Weaker now, you don't look like a Bubba, that can't be right...." Joe smiled at her insouciance, playing along.
She continued, pleased that he was game for the game. "Ishmael, no, nope, doesn't fit.....wait, I got it! Joe, your name is Joe, and I'll bet you sometimes go by Attorney Joe, am I right, am I right?" She held her hands together, ready to clap and squeal with delight, except that she wasn't prepared for the cunning linguist's own retort. Never parry with an attorney, she was about to learn. Never challenge a pro at their own game.
He gave her a rather condescending smile of his own, immediately establishing the power order in this one-on-one match-up of wits. "Bravo, Robyn, you are correct, indeed." Her smile froze on her face, however, at his next words.
"And you are Karen Richmond's daughter-in-law to be and you dance at Good Guys on Wisconsin Avenue on Thursday nights." He took a slow, measured swig of his beer.
Robyn's jaw hit the ground as if her team had just been beaten by a half-court buzzer-beater.
Joe went on, unsmiling now, his green eyes piercing into Robyn's, the ultimate barrister preparing to coerce his heretofore smug witness into damaging testimony. "And you are one red hot piece of ass, young lady, if I may say so myself. That little panda bear tattoo next to your pussy is way cute."
Robyn's face was now the shade of a blazing crimson sunset. She frantically scanned the crowd, and just her luck, Karen Richmond, mother-in-law-from-hell-to-be, was watching Robyn's and Joe's conversation intently while simultaneously holding a conversation of her own across the massive patio deck.
Joe moved closer to Robyn, so close that Robyn had no choice but to open her legs a bit to allow Joe's torso to invade her personal space, but moving at an angle that served to block Robyn from Karen Richmond's view. He tugged at his brew mug with his full lips, and could detect the barely discernible scent of Robyn's arousal emanating from between her open thighs, wafting with the ocean winds and her sweet perfume and body lotions.
Robyn had rarely, if ever, felt so exposed, so vulnerable, yet at the same time, undeniably and unequivocally turned on by the confidence and power exuded by this handsome older man.
Joe nearly whispered into Robyn's ear, he was so close now. "Don't worry about Karen, your dirty little secret is safe with me, for now, at least. Attorney-client confidentiality privilege, of sorts." Robyn breathed a small sigh of relief. But only until Joe's next words. "Of course, there's this little thing we refer to in the legal profession called 'quid pro quo', Robyn, are you familiar with the term?" Robyn's had bobbed up and down ever so slightly, enough to let Joe knew she knew. "You do something for me in return, Robyn, is the way it works, OK?"
