Shelter in Place: Quarantine Romance Collection Includes New Novella

by Jamie Knight

  Mitch Peters didn’t call unless something big was happening, so I picked up every time my phone rang with his number. He had yet to steer me wrong and was a large part of the reason that the firm was worth as much as it was. I couldn’t leave him hanging. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

  “What’s the good news?” I asked, having dispensed with the pleasantries and preliminary bad news.

  “The good news is I have Whitman on the hook.”

  “Ulysses Whitman?”

  “The same. He’s wiggling a bit, but I think I can reel him in.”

  “Geez, someone likes their morbid fishing metaphors.”

  “Yes, I do. Though the fact remains, he would be one of our biggest clients to date if only we could bag him.”

  “We’re bagging now?”

  “It’s just a turn of phrase,” Mitch explained calmly.

  “Turn it back.”

  “Smart-ass.” “That's why you love me,” I beamed.

  “That and the money,” Mitch amended, “the meeting is later today.”

  “So, what do you need me for, O golden one?”

  “Now, now, there is no call to be a meanie pants. I am just feeling a bit fatigued at the moment and could use some back up.”

  “I’m your Huckleberry,” I said, putting on my best Georgian accent.

  “Glad to hear it. The meeting is at two in room 213 of The Atrium.”

  “The Atrium?”

  “Is there an echo in the line?”

  “Prick,” I smiled.

  “And that’s why you love me.”

  “As well as the clients,” I amended.

  “A match made of conscience and mutual benefit.”

  “Which is why it works,” I agreed.

  “What are you up to?”

  “The usual brilliance and innovation,” I said, the very picture of modesty, “I’ve actually had a fairly brilliant idea about how to boost our client list even higher.”

  “Only fairly brilliant? Dear me, you must be slipping.”

  “It’s called modesty.”

  “Can’t say I’m familiar,” Mitch confessed.

  “I’m even asking for outside input,” I beamed, greatly proud of my humility.

  “I’ll be back in a minute, okay?”

  “Why, what’s happening?” I inquired curiously.

  “I’m just gonna pop over to the window and check if the apocalypse has started.”

  “Only in my heart, dear boy.”

  “I’m a year older than you.”

  “Only chronologically.”

  “Tell me, oh wise one, who is the enchanting maiden who hath beguiled thine heart?”

  Generally, I would have been cautious about revealing my heart, but Mitch and I had known each other since kindergarten. He was like the brother I’d never had.

  “Carrie,” I said, after a pause for effect.

  “Your assistant?” Mitch clarified.

  “The same.”

  “I can’t say I’m surprised.”

  “You're not?”

  “Of course not, I’ve seen the girl. I might have thought she was a bit young for you but follow your heart. Just not under the age barrier.”

  “Good rule for life,” I agreed.

  There was no problem there. I knew for a fact that Carrie was 19. Nearly 20 really. Well past the legal threshold. Besides, I was hardly a candidate for a dirty old man, not even out of my 20s yet.

  Give it a couple of months and we would be in the same decade of life. Carrie at the beginning and me at the end, but it still counted. Not that it mattered anyway. Beyond what was illegal, it all came down to personal opinion and everyone could keep theirs to themselves as far as I was concerned.

  I was a great supporter of Mill and his ideas about personal freedom in which that anyone of the age of reason should be allowed to do as they like as long as they don’t hurt anyone who does not freely choose that path. A dominant could whip a willing submissive with no issue.

  Outside those kinds of arrangements, it got into the territory of forfeit of rights. Namely that one could not infringe on the rights of another without giving up their own. A notion which had a heavy influence on Anton LeVay and his Seven Tenets. Particularly number three, “The body is inviolable and subject to one’s will alone.” A nice tweak of Mill, that.

  Things were looking up. Murphy’s Law was the other governing doctrine of my life, leaving me looking for disaster wherever it might lurk, like a ravenous beast in the darkness. Whitman was a big catch, right up there with some of the big players. If we got him on board not only would we get his money, which should be considerable, but the clout that came with having him as a client, would lead to promotional opportunities galore.

  Glad I took the call, I remembered what I had given up to take it. I hadn’t seen it. There was no way I could have heard it, but still I knew. I had made Carrie cry. I couldn’t really blame her either. I had just gotten up and walked away like she was nothing. She wasn’t nothing. She was everything and more.

  She haunted my days as well as my nights. An ever-present dream. It wasn’t that I thought about her every minute of every day, but even when I couldn’t see her, I knew she was there. Sitting in some corner of my mind just out of sight, waiting patiently for me to look her way.

  I couldn’t help it. I knew what the results would be, terrible as they were, yet I went ahead anyway. Unable to stop the train of thought once it was out of the station, nothing short of a full-scale derailment would really be able to help me at that point. It was off and chugging, picturing all the things I would like to do to sweet little Carrie in crystal clear, high definition.

  She was in the master bedroom of my townhouse, dressed only in a pure white, silk kimono. I knew she was naked under it because the front plunged down, the heavenly cloth covering her luscious tits and coming together at her belly in a way that made it clear that she was not wearing a bra. The garment was cinched so tight around the lovely hips that I surely would have seen panty lines, were there any present to detect.

  I simply stood for a moment, leaned against the door frame, drinking it all in. Memorizing every inch of her. Committing every detail of the scene to my internal vault for later reference.

  Pushing off from the door frame and using the momentum as a head start, I approached the bed. Carrie flinched ever so slightly, no doubt hearing my footfalls on the hardwood floor. Still, she kept looking down. She sat with her back straight, her palms pressed flat against the bedspread just like I had told her.

  I stopped just short of her, my legs inches from hers. I reached out with a steady hand, tucking it under her neck, making her look at me. Her eyes were still closed for the first few seconds until she realized that I wanted her to look. Then it was all she was able to do.

  Moving slowly as not to startle her, and respecting the vulnerability of her position, I kissed her softly. Just her lips at first, sweet and supple, letting her know the nature of my intentions, before slipping her my tongue as well.

  She accepted the gift happily, even greedily, sucking on it with enthusiasm that seemed to surprise even her. I placed my hands on her hips and let her at it. The hums she was making let me know it was something she really enjoyed. Soon, she let me do the same to her.

  As I sucked her succulent little tongue, I moved my hands ever so slowly inward to untie the belt of her kimono. The front fell open as the belt fell away. I ran my hand along her luscious young body from her cheek, down her neck, along her chest and between her tits, over her belly and across her smooth pelvis. I finally ended my sojourn on her tender girlhood. Her legs uncrossed and opened as I approached.

  The gasp was soft but distinct as I pressed against her, her sweet, pink pussy lips warm under my hand. She was already quite excited. Still, she was still pretty young and oh so very tight and would need a bit more relaxing before I tried anything too drastic.

  My mouth followed the path already traced by my hand. I kissed my way
down to her pussy and planted warm, wet kisses on every inch of exposed skin from her forehead to her thighs. Finally working my way back up to the final destination, I moved my hand out of the way as I did so. I put it to another, better use, spreading her lips as I came in for the first lick.

  Carrie seemed to know what I was thinking and leaned back a little more, her hands still flat against the bed. Her legs opened even wider, giving me all the room, I might need to do whatever I might like to her tight little pussy. I was honored by her trust in me and made the first lick intentionally light and sensuous. It coaxed a deep, long moan, drawn up from somewhere in the depths of her soul.

  After several more long, lingering licks with the gentle flat of my tongue, bringing her to the very gates of joy, I started going a little faster, stroking her thighs as I did. Her breath quickened in kind, becoming gasps and moans of desperate pleasure that only got more intense the faster I went.

  Then as they turned into moans and wails of sheer ecstasy, I went in hard. I circled my tongue directly on her inner lips, hitting her hard little clit with each pass, working the inside of her tight little pussy with two fingers as I went.

  Finally, she relented and the orgasm that had been building within her for the last several minutes took wing, carrying messages of compliments and deepest thanks to the goddess of love and devotion. Her body trembled to a placid stillness as I smothered her pussy in light, loving kisses.

  Taking my perfect dream lover by the arms, I gently guided her back up into a sitting position. I carefully replaced her hands to their former position on the bed, which really was where I preferred them. With two fingers inside her up to the second knuckle, I unzipped my suit pants and unfurled my massive cock, relishing her expression of delighted surprise.

  She looked to me, pleading for permission. I nodded my ascent, sending her diving down on my swollen member, sucking enthusiastically using nothing but her mouth. She moaned softly as I continued to finger her, working within her silken folds, bringing her back to the rain-slicked precipice of pure, sounding joy.

  As I deftly massaged the inside of her beautiful pussy, the walls squeezing tighter all the time, she gently rocked her hips in time with my movements. It was something I hadn’t actually given permission for but decided to let slide. I didn’t object to it in any way and it seemed to give her so much joy.

  There was plenty of forewarning. The tremors started as tiny trembles rippling gently through her from shoulders to feet. The vibrations from her deep soulful moans made the blowjob even better as she continued to suck my cock as though my cum contained the secret to eternal life.

  We came in beautiful unity, Carrie underwing against me as I unloaded into her mouth, filling it up with cum which she happily swallowed down. She licked her lips to make sure she didn’t miss a single drop.

  Kissing her deep, to express our burning attraction in a physical way, I took her gently by the shoulders and guided her down on her back, her legs still open. Taking her lightly by the ankles, I planted her feet on the edges of the bed. Moving in closer, I then lifted her legs, so her ankles pressed against the tops of my shoulders. Her palms were still flat against the bed.

  Properly in position, I began to stroke the warm head of my cock against her sweet little cunt, making Carrie moan with joy. After a few moments of teasing that made her squirm with anticipation, I finally did what we had both wanted for so long. I slid my massive, throbbing cock into her tight little cunt. Carrie let out a moan as I did. My cock stimulated her clit so hard I thought for a second that she might be a virgin reacting to her first time.

  “You okay, sweetheart?”

  “Fuck yes!” she gasped.

  I kept pushing in, making sure to pay attention for any signs of pain or discomfort, But I saw none. Carrie took my entire cock like a total trooper. I was so proud of her that I paused for a moment to plant a gentle kiss on her forehead before starting to move. As my cock stroked her sweet little pussy, hitting her clit and her g-spot at the same time, she almost screamed with orgasm.

  But that wouldn’t start until I started going faster. I worked my way up bit by bit until I was fucking her at a steady, moderate rhythm. I dared not go any harder for fear of hurting her.

  “H-h-harder,” she managed to gasp between ecstatic screams.

  Taking her gently by the ankles, I pushed her legs back, so her feet were pointed up towards the ceiling. I used the extra leverage to go even harder. Pounding my cock deep inside her, my balls tapped against her sweet ass as her wails filled the room and I filled her up with my massive load.

  Chapter Three - Max

  The grumbles were low but persistent. My stomach protested its empty state.

  It would clearly not relent until the situation was rectified. The fates smiled however and one of Manhattan’s dozens of pizza places came into view. I was more of a donair guy, but I wasn’t sure about the location of the nearest Greek place and time was of the essence.

  I wasn’t surprised at the rebellion. I hadn’t even touched my sandwich back at Ariba and wasn’t about to go back for it. Carrie was able to wound me more with a look than she ever could with a knife.

  My heart went to her as completely as possible. Not that I dared to say anything. She was still my employee and there were certain appearances to keep. The company was still growing and there were potential clients who might not look kindly on an intra-office dalliance, especially between a boss and assistant. The power dynamics were just drought with trouble. Not that I was really thinking about that.

  As far as I was concerned, we were just two people who happened to work in the same building. It wasn’t like I was going to fire her for not being with me. What was more, I was almost certain, at least as certain as it was possible to be, that she knew that. Of all the words used to describe my management style, ‘petty’ was not among them. Neither was ‘exploitative.’

  The most common descriptor that I was aware of came down basically to ‘tough but fair.’ I could be demanding and expected the best out of my employees and all of us, I hoped, were working toward the same goal of growing MP Solutions into one of the top insurance companies in the country. I was never vindictive or mean and did my best to recognize and reward good work. But what I felt for Carrie fell well outside of even that.

  Slice in hand, I hopped back in my car and with Offspring’s “Nitro” blasting on the sound-system, I drove like a more cautious Batman. I Avoided the main roads as much as possible, nearly ending up on the Brooklyn bridge at one point but getting stuck in a lunch hour traffic jam was the last thing I needed.

  The Atrium, despite the name, was built in the 19th century. It was an imitation of the Crystal Palace in London. Reaching to the sky like a crystal obelisk, it was difficult to miss and visible from several blocks away. New York City blocks were, like most things in the city, both bigger and smaller than everything else in the country.

  The building designs were not the only element bearing the mark of colonial parentage in America’s grand city. The influences went right down to the design of the city. Much like London, New York was comprised of smaller parts stitched together into an official whole. Official because a good deal of localization was still holding strong. The ‘sides’ of Manhattan function much the same way as the districts of London. Never mind the other boroughs, particularly the older ones like Brooklyn and Staten Island.

  They may have the same mayor but might as well be separate cities unto themselves. The expansionist spirit was still alive and well in the New World.

  Signing in at the security desk, it was onward and upward on the state-of-the-art silent elevators. They were a later addition to the original design. Much of the original material was still intact. Not all the walls were glass, which would have certainly been interesting but a bit too risky even back when it first went up.

  The crystalline appearance from the outside was achieved by what amounted to wall-sized windows instead in place of the more traditional exterior wal
ls. The interior of the glorious structure was mostly white marble. It was only one floor, so the stairs were more than usable. But I had heard so much about the elevators that I just had to give them a try, like a kid seeing an amusement park ride for the first time.

  The numbering system was something quite interesting. For starters, the designers of the atrium had been traditionalists, using Roman numerals as opposed to the traditional Arabic numeral system. That made things really fun once you got up past fifty, which happened with surprising speed.

  “Max, in here, buddy,” Mitch said, popping his head out into the hallway as I breezed right past the door.

  The meeting room was small but still big enough for our purposes. I really wanted to let our work speak for itself. We had gone through enough to get it. Mitch was more the sales guy anyway. Not in a sleazy or oily way. He could always just find the very best way of presenting. He was the ultimate optimist, really.

  His mostly positive attribute could get a bit creepy once you’ve seen it literally applied to a plane crash. Mitch went into full spin-control when a nascent airline we were covering started having trouble with mechanical air. They tended to drop before really lifting off too high so one really got hurt, but still, it looked pretty bad. In swooped Captain Charm and fixed everything right up.

  “You feeling okay?” I asked, noticing Mitch didn’t seem his usual bouncy self.

  “Yeah, just a bit tired is all.”

  “Just don’t fall asleep during the presentation and we'll be fine.”

  “I do my best, but since you are also going to be talking, I make no promises.”

  “Smart-ass,” I smiled.

  “Nerd.”

  “Fair,” I said with a quick nod of agreement.

  Ulysses Whitman was a walking stereotype. Three hundred pounds of good ol’ boy in a five-seven frame, stuffed into a distinctly Western suit accentuated by hand-tooled cowboy boots. The black cowboy hat with a bull skull hatband was the cherry on top of the absurdity sundae. Mitch and I cast each other a glance as he came in and sat down across from us at the conference table.