Shelter in Place: Quarantine Romance Collection Includes New Novella

by Jamie Knight

  Trace Linder said nothing. He just chugged a Grapefruit IPA and jumped in the pool with his shirt on.

  Chapter 10

  Looking out over the city and its lights, Harlan tried to quiet his mind, which was racing in so many directions. He looked out over the gentle slopes of streets bounding westward across the avenues but couldn't help wondering about the usefulness or importance of the iGo App as the length of the emergent quarantine scenario started to look indefinite.

  He slowly walked down the steps to his sunken lounge taking in the slightly differing perspectives on the glittering cityscape. Harlan placed his phone in its base.

  Certainly, allowances and grace periods were being considered by many agencies as the economic results of COVID-19 quarantine were being forecasted but Harlan wanted to hold himself and his business to a higher standard. This led him back once again to her. “Victoria,” Harlan said aloud, allowing himself to feel the pleasure that came in the mere thought of her. Smiling, he recalled the sound or her unbridled laugh, her complete surrender to it was so enticing.

  Distracting him from further imaginings was the concern that Trace Linder might not be the right designer for the iGo app and couldn’t see that himself.

  Trace had wanted to take it on personally at the very beginning and had welcomed the idea of being stuck at work for the duration. No matter how many times Harlan would look at Trace’s designs for the icon’s new look, all he saw was another version of the same thing.

  There was nothing in any of them that gave him that sought after feeling of new, while still being recognized as the product. In giving some young talented people a shot at it, he knew there was a slim chance that he’d actually use any of their ideas but thought it might push Trace to think outside his own box.

  Knowing that success in almost any venture required focus, Harlan hoped he could balance his interest in Victoria and still keep his deadline with the iGo App’s Icon. Having the two other contest winners involved still made the idea of having them weigh in on the icon’s design viable even if he were to stray a bit with her aboard.

  From the phone a tone swelled in the room announcing a video call.

  “Answer to monitor 1,” Harlan commanded.

  On his huge flat screen monitor, three very attractive Asian women in black lingerie with red nails, lips and crimson smokey-eye makeup writhe around each other making out before one turned to the screen to speak to Harlan.

  “Ready to get friendly with your Thursday Girls, Honey?” The Asian Madam teased.

  Seeing an unfamiliar expression of uncertainty on her biggest client’s face, she reached out and exposed one of the younger women’s breasts, who immediately began to kiss and suckle at her own dark rising nipple.

  “I’m a little on the busy side this week,” Harlan said, almost gazing absently at them as the Madam and a high cheekboned Mandarin looking woman completely strip the darker Pacific Island girl.

  “There’s also the uh, quarantine thing to consider,” he added, half-heartedly.

  They giggled and end the call abruptly, moving on in the commerce of the night. He switched the display to a security camera in the design studio to watch Tory poolside as she loosened her hair and went on to raising an oversized t-shirt to reveal her tantalizing young body.

  “Repeat, loop, slow motion,” he ordered and dropped down on the sofa nearby as Tory appeared on the screen almost twice normal size, blonde tresses a sudden golden halo as she’d just shaken loose her hair.

  By the time Harlan found himself gazing longingly at the combination of maddening curves of her hips, upper thighs and lower back, his erection tent-poled in his swimsuit. He imagined taking her hands in his and falling on one knee just behind her to rub his face and lips all over the peach fuzz at the small of her back.

  Eyes closed, he imagined parting her slightly reluctant thighs to start kissing and tasting the nectar of her pleasure. Feeling the hot thin stickiness of his own natural pre lube, Harlan stood, pulled down his swimsuit, took the swollen crown of his penis in his fingers and imagined rubbing its engorged length all over the fine fuzz at her tailbone over and over, until being overcome with the sheer need to hold her down, boldly bunch her hair in his fist and penetrate her with savage abandon in order to set her free.

  All he wanted to do was fuck her hard and fast and for a really long time. No other woman could compare to her; she was the only one he wanted. In his fantasy, he imagined playing with her nipples as he made her cum by fucking her tight, wet pussy.

  The anticipation of experiencing her orgasm sent consuming pleasure through his body, resulting in a blissful eruption that needed to be cleaned from the monitor’s screen.

  Chapter 11

  From the moment the announcement Dawes had made poolside, all semblance of a party dissipated as the significance sank in and took hold. Even Dan sobered up somehow and climbed out.

  The trio of contest winners stood outside the pool, practically huddling to form a strategy for taking on a challenge that could make their careers if handled well,

  Tory couldn’t sleep. Initially she let Mahira come to her room so they could continue talking. Tory hoped that listening to Mahira would tire her out and keep her focused on the significance of what working with NextThing.Net meant, instead of the desire the exchange with Harlan had set off in her.

  There had been a moment, before any conversation, in which she was certain by mere movements of his body and eyes, wherein Harlan had expressed some desires of his own. The magnitude of the man’s successes was so strong an indication that he would have his satisfaction with her, that it became difficult not to fantasize about what seemed a certainty.

  After midnight, both she and Mahira came to the conclusion that being well rested would certainly be the best strategy, so they parted ways. When Mahira left, Tory wanted to sleep. She’d tried over and over but could not stop her mind from envisioning so many differing aspects of her future. Half of her imaginings would gradually degenerate into dark and fearful tales of failure in one area, bleeding over into other delightful anticipations.

  The only peace came from getting a head start on the work. She sat up, doing searches, comparing icons and logo histories of iGo and other successful apps. If she were to stop, she would dwell on a kind of lightness she saw in Harlan which seemed to make his intensity so approachable.

  Someone had been knocking at the door, apparently for some time, Tory thought, based on the aggressiveness to the knock. She had passed out on the bed scrolling a tablet and had a mark from the corner of the tablet pressed into her forehead when she opened the door to let in Ms. Kalinski, who had a black medical grade mask and black latex gloves on to match her usual severe appearance. The stern young woman refrained from entering, yet looked around the small room before speaking.

  ‘Today, Ms. Stadler, you and the other design contest winners are welcome to join Mr. Dawes and Mr. Linder. The facility has been sanitized for your protection. We have especially prepared workstations to ensure appropriate social distancing is followed at all times.”

  “Thank you,” Tory said, yawning as Ms. Kalinski passed her a big plastic shopping bag.

  “Further, after breakfast, you will report to the design studio wearing the masks and gloves in this plastic bag. You will also find a hand sanitizer you can keep in your room to use for any incidents prior to interacting with Mr. Dawes. Next week we will have the test kits here. Until then, we are in full quarantine and taking full safety precautions until we are notified otherwise.”

  The difference in what the Design Studio looked like when she toured it during the workshops shocked her. The sterile emptiness made her feel the new set up’s cold severity to be an example of Ms. Kalinski’s range of power and influence over Dawe’s efforts.

  Workstations set up with a bright ergonomic work perch were spaced far enough apart to prevent casual communication between them, more than satisfying the prevalent social distancing protocols.

  At
one end of the studio, opposite the huge picture window to the city below, a 120 inch screen displayed a slideshow of Trace Linder’s current concepts, previous icon designs and other icon designs the iGo executive’s would be fond of emulating for one reason or another.

  This slideshow played on each workstation, she noticed, passing Dan Enning’s station

  Who waved weakly at her from behind his mask, eyes bloodshot; clearly just hanging on.

  As she approached her designated station a loud synth tone broke the silence otherwise occupied by some of the blander works of Brian Eno that shuffled unobtrusively in the background.

  A window in the corner of the huge monitor expanded and brightened into view revealing Harlan Dawes smiling at them.

  “Good morning, crew. And I mean that. Welcome. Consider yourselves members of our team here at NextThing.Net as we call upon you for your input. No idea is too small, too big or too crazy to consider around here.”

  A second box split off from Dawes, to show Trace Linder in his mask.

  “Good Morning, gang. If you take a moment to look at your desktops you will see a link and password for a Zoom session that will start in an hour. Take some time to familiarize yourselves with the resource the workstation offers then Haran and or myself will come on to moderate discussion and listen to ideas,” Linder finished, and Harlan took advantage of the moment.

  “And remember. This isn’t rocket science. You don’t even have to explain or justify a visual idea as long as it works. I want to apologize for this unorthodox setup. The Coronavirus is touching us all one way or another. I would have preferred tossing ideas back and forth across a conference table over take-out foods and industry banter. Industry banter is high underrated. A lot of great ideas are born in the midst of careless conjecture. Take advantage of Zoom. Banter is encouraged. Take out guaranteed. Ms. Kalinski has the menus of restaurants she’s decided to support that are still open for pick up an…”

  Another tone interrupted Harlan.

  “Ok. I have to take this. Good luck, everyone. Ladies and gentlemen, start your engines,” Harlan announced in a casual yet celebrative tone all at once as his window collapsed to a pinpoint of light and disappeared.

  Disappointed but in some ways relieved, Tory looked over to Mahira, who was having trouble getting comfortable in the odd shaped modern chair and grinned in unobservable amusement. The social distancing experiment wasn’t exactly what she had expected after the night by the pool, but it might give her a chance at actually being able to apply herself to the iGo App efforts.

  When the Zoom session commenced it was led by Trace who started out by asking Dan about what his initial take on the group of visual concepts he had come up in the last two weeks. Even in the smaller Zoom window, Tory could see something collapse in Dan at the prospect of going first.

  “Uh, I really like number 3, if that’s, you know, one of the good ones,” Dan answered shakily.

  “What is it that makes concept 3 a strong contender, in your opinion?” Trace asked him.

  “It still says iGo, the familiar is still here. The shapes are more streamlined and modern,” Dan said, buoyed somewhat by Trace’s obvious approval.

  Noting that Mahira managed to finally balance on the ergonomic chair, Trace sought her first impression.

  “I think they should leave it as it is but make it a solid color that isn’t in popular use, so it really stands out. Nothing says new like doing something different,” Mahira said, joyful confidence in her voice, perhaps to make up for not being able to smile at anyone in the masks.

  There was an inexplicable silence from Trace’s box as he seemed to stare into something unknown while considering how to react to her thoughts on the matter.

  “That’s one good approach. Something different. I agree that it would have to be something different, maybe not necessarily an abandonment of the brand’s colors,” Tory interjected to try supporting Mahira’s statement, but it went sideways instead.

  “Great, Thank you, Victoria. That is exactly what I’ve done,” Trace trumpeted proudly.

  Tory continued, “In doing a little research, I could see that the three colors of the current icon are closely associated with the iGo brand. The user looks for those hues, perhaps even more than the individual shapes of the composite graphics.”

  Harlan’s window brightened and expanded again as he listened in to try to catch up.

  “OK, OK. Wow, research too. That’s great. So, which one of my designs are you likely to suggest to Mr. Dawes? We know Dan the man is a real big fan of concept 3,” Trace chimed grinning in his digital box.

  “Wait, what is this?” Harlan said with obvious severity in his voice. “Trace, I asked them here for fresh perspectives, not to have you guide them to choose…”

  He disappeared from the window. Somewhere a door could be heard slamming.

  Trace turned away from his workstation and Harlan could be seen standing at the opening to his private cubicle.

  “Get up. Now. Come to my office. We need to clarify a couple of things,” Harlan ordered brusquely.

  They all watched as Trace nervously got up and turned back to reach for his tablet in its charging station.

  “Leave it!” Harlan ordered.

  Embarrassed, Trace could no longer face the faces looking at him and walked away briskly to face the music.

  “Holy shit,” remarked Mahira, “if he thinks he’s going to treat people like that, I know all kinds of influencers that would tweet him right off the throne he thinks he has here. I won't stand for it.”

  “I didn’t even know what to say, I just picked one and tried to be nice. Dawes is gonna tear me up when he thinks I agree with Linder,” Dan said, worriedly.

  Tory was quiet and glad once again for the privacy the mask granted in hiding expression. She had found herself darkly enjoying the assertiveness implicit in Harlan’s tone and was tempted to offer something in Trace’s defense to see if Harlan would lash out but refrained, feeling childish for having thought of so obvious a challenge to his fiery ire.

  Instead, she spent the time exploring the resources of the workstation as advised. She hadn’t completely agreed with Trace Linder. She knew he was right in thinking that the new design had to keep the colors associated with the brand, but it was just a matter of finding a new and unique way to do it.

  Chapter 12

  Angry, Harlan Dawes had Trace sit in his office and wait for him while he went up to the lounge and paced. He thought he may have overreacted a bit to Trace’s obvious intention to sway the group’s opinion for his own benefit. It really made Harlan upset as it jeopardized the balance he felt was in place by having the small group of creative winners in place should his own behavior and preoccupations get in the way of progress.

  Of course, he could not explain this part of his thinking to Trace which started to make him laugh and lighten up. Harlan was really disappointed in Trace’s efforts with the iGo icon work.

  Trace, it had seemed, had become comfortable for so long that his edge had become dull in economic stability. Not really his fault, Harlan concluded then mixed a drink while he thought about how to amicably take Trace off the iGo job and give him some time off without it becoming awkward.

  ***

  Tory had ordered a huge Caesar Salad with chicken at lunch and didn’t finish it. She sat picking at the chicken while looking at color swatches and gradient settings in an Adobe App on her tablet that evening.

  The dinner hour was exceptionally quiet until Mahira decided to approach and sit at the next table, slurping the remnants of her soft drink from the ice in her cup, mask hanging under her chin. Dan was sleeping off his hangover and Trace was nowhere to be seen.

  “I think you made a good impression earlier,” Mahira confided in her suddenly.

  “I don’t know. I just kinda agreed with everyone,” Tory told her, quite matter of factly.

  “You held it together back there and hunkered down. I saw what you were getting into
and I was walking out to lunch. You’ve got some seriously nerdy superpowers that may even eclipse my own. And if you don’t mind me saying, I think you have Dawes’s eye on you. It shouldn’t be hard to get his ear too,” Mahira joked, catching Tory off guard enough to put her at ease.

  “I don’t know. There’s so much I’m uncertain about yet I have my expectations,” Tory confided, grinning.

  “I bet you have them wrapped around your finger in Wisconsin, hey! Didn't you tell me back at the hotel that there was a young and overprotective hometown hunk back in Madison?”

  Tory flushed red thinking about any real discussion of Jude that would have to include that their relationship was never consummated and had been just a few daring steps beyond platonic, before she broke it off. Sensing something in the fair younger woman’s blush, Mahira pursued.

  “What is it? I know you say he’s very possessive. What was his name again… Jules?”

  “Jude. We’ve never actually been together. I mean…”

  “You’re a virgin,” she whispered, even as they were alone.

  “Madison is a small town. I’m at college but I live at home,” she explained.

  “No need to defend it. I held on as long as I could. There’s a lot of fun you can still have and remain, um, intact, as some people say,” Mahira suggested.

  “Jude was constantly asking me to hold it. Said I wouldn’t have to do much more than that and he'd be satisfied for a while,” Tory said, causing her new friend to laugh, so she continued. “We’d be walking down the street and instead of holding my hand he’d make me hold two of his fingers for practice. Really annoyed me for a while. I’ve distanced myself from him gradually but like I say, it’s a small town and our parents know each other, and have their own ideas.”

  “Believe me, you can get a lot of affection and attention from men by offering up the beyond vanilla world they always dream of. I kept my girlhood together until twenty with oral and anal, and believe me, when you offer a man your back door, he’ll always come back for more. I have guys who still text me in the middle of the night,” Mahira confessed, making Tory giggle almost uncontrollably at the slightly older woman’s candor.