Shelter in Place: Quarantine Romance Collection Includes New Novella

by Jamie Knight

  “You’ve been seen with Ms. Stadler, Harlan.”

  “Yes. About Victoria. I never really imagined anyone could just come in and take over a job. It was a convenient situation to get some fresh opinions. So, I never made any provisions to pay anyone. But obviously I do plan to pay all of those who have been helping me, very handsomely, now that I know how valuable they are.”

  “And how would you characterize your relationship with Victoria Stadler?” his lawyer asked, looking at him from the small flat screen.

  “Characterize? What does that mean really?”

  “The press is going to have a field day with this kid’s story. Is it possible, and excuse me for not being more delicate in the matter – battery life – would it be possible for you to just leave this one alone?”

  “Handle it, Barry. Please.”

  ***

  The Ducati’s engine flying through the Midtown Tunnel at 70 mph orchestrated a somber snarling fugue of Doplering reverberations.

  Helmet at his side, Harlan walked along the well-manicured grounds of the mausoleum where his father had been interred more than a decade ago, resembling a pilot returning from an awful tour of duty. He walked along the rows of names and familiar epitaphs until resting before his father's.

  “You’re really not missing much these days. A new virus is out here killing people. The country is in quarantine. All manner of insanity rampant in these conditions,” he laughed. “Anyway, I’ve actually met someone in all this. Someone a little different. The kinda girl who understands Sunday Dinner, you know?

  “I’ve been with a lot of women I wanted to be with, but I never felt like I needed to be with any of them. Is that it? Is that how it works? And Dad, she likes it. I found her in my Auditorium. Probably the last thing I designed that we were both proud of. I caught her taking pictures of our archway system, after everyone had left.”

  He imagined his father saying the words he knew he would if he was still able to:

  “If you’re happy, I’m happy. Just be sure she’s worth risking everything for.”

  “She is. I’m sure.”

  ***

  The cool blue light the pool threw off, combined with the warm glow of dusk, randomly cast violet shadows. Tory casually swam to the end of the pool and returned in a lazy backstroke of relaxation.

  With plans to join Harlan for dinner, she lapped the pool once more before climbing out and toweling off. She brushed her wet hair smoothly away from her face and draped her shoulders with her towel before walking to the elevator.

  Upstairs in his lounge, Harlen watched Tory approach on the security camera’s feed.

  “Music,” Harlan prompted, “Dies Irae by Wendy Carlos.”

  As the dark synth track started to play, the elevator door opened above the lounge and Tory stepped out and tossed off the towel and basked in the warm sunset’s final glow as it burned hotly into the horizon.

  Seeing Harlan already naked, her lips parted and her breathing shifted in anticipation of any number of firsts in her short sex life.

  “C’mon,” Harlan prompted lightly, extending his arm to her.

  Tory descended and took his hand.

  “Turn around,” he said and took both her slim arms in his hands behind her, then pushed his erection up between her legs and pressed up against the young firmness of her body with primitive satisfaction.

  With her arms held behind her then under his, he began fondling her breasts and teasing her nipples with his fingertips. She could see Harlan’s swollen tip poking out between her thighs, boasting his size.

  Hands pressed between their bodies, she started to stroke at his scrotum with her fingertips while Harlan undid her bikini top. He took it and quickly bound Tory’s wrist behind her back with the stretchy spandex. Kissing her back, he played more roughly with her huge breasts.

  “On your knees,” Harlan demanded, pointing to the area near the sofa where he had laid out additional cushions.

  Becoming increasingly more excited, her breasts rose and swole majestically with each deep breath. Harlan squeezed and appraised them with his hands while rubbing his erection all over Tory’s mouth, teasing her until she got her lips around it.

  Then he pumped his big, hard in her mouth repetitively while holding her head in both hands. Harlan stopped and savored her hot panting for a moment before telling her to turn around.

  “I need to see that curvy, naked body of yours that I love so much,” he instructed her.

  Facing the sofa, he pushed her shoulders and head down on the cushions, raising the curvaceous beauty of her youth before him. He rubbed his face all over her thighs and the small crotch of her swimsuit before rapidly pulling it from over her hips to under her knees.

  Intoxicated by the glistening erotic folds of her pussy aglow with dusk’s light, he slapped her ass red and smoothy rubbed the sting away with his palms afterward as she squirmed and moaned into the sofa cushions.

  “Good girl,” he said, in a low growl. “Let your boss do whatever he wants to you. I always end up making you feel good, even if I use your curvy body for my own pleasure in the process.”

  He thrust himself inside her, loving how her pussy made his cock feel. She was moaning in ecstasy, and he loved how she was letting herself go with him.

  Taking her bikini-bound wrists in one hand and a thick bolt of her damp hair coiled in the other fist, Harlan began to rhythmically stroke, as deep and as hard as possible, until her orgasm became obvious, then let himself go in frenzied abandon, pulling his cock out and spraying his cum all over her body.

  Together, they showered in silence until Tory’s eyes met his.

  “Are we still going to eat dinner?” she asked.

  “Yeah. It’s gonna be tough, though. Lot of places are still closed. There are some great places that still have pickup and delivery, and some with outdoor dining, too. It’s so hard to make a plan sometimes, even before all this COVID mess. I think I’ll just call for something to be dropped off and we can eat it in the room.”

  “Sounds good. But yeah. Maybe there should be an app. Something like Trip Advisor or iGo but for little things, offering like a date package. This is your driver, this is your reservation, this is the discrete Bed and Breakfast,” she kidded with him.

  “Yeah, for couples who want to get away from it all last minute. We could call it E-LOPE; for today, for tomorrow, or forever. Get away with E-LOPE!”

  “That’s a great idea,” she said, her heart pounding fast.

  Was this a hint?

  Did he want to “elope” with her?

  She couldn’t tell for sure.

  But she was determined to enjoy the present with him, and worry about the future later.

  Chapter 16

  The next morning, when there was a knock at her door it was unexpected. Ms. Kalinski stood outside. Despite the mask, Tory could see the tension in the slightly older woman’s brow.

  “Come with me,” Ms. Kalinski insisted, “There’s a young man downstairs to see you. A Jude Coleman. He’s making some unfounded statements and I really need you to set him straight on a couple of issues.”

  When Tory went downstairs to the lobby, she had her mask on. The two security men flanking Jude had masks on. Jude had none. She couldn't help feeling exasperated even as Jude smiled at seeing her.

  “Coming to my rescue sure as I came here for yours?” he said cryptically.

  “What do you think you’re doing by coming here?” Tory demanded. “This is New York City. Haven't you seen the news? There is a major outbreak in this city. How can you think about going home now? How? Are you ready to bury your Uncle Billy, your Mother? Who?”

  “Sweet buckets of Christ, Sugar. What's come over you? You gonna take that thing off so I can see you?”

  “It’s a safety precaution,” she said flatly.

  “Safe! There ain’t no one safer for you than me. That's what I’m doing here. Come to take you home,” Jude said, staring at the mask on Tory’s fac
e.

  “You’re wearing it for him, aren’t you?” he accused sobbingly. “You wanna stay clean for Dawes! Please tell me you didn't give him anything that was not his to take!”

  He started advancing on Tory, but not before the security men braced him and turned him back to the door.

  “What are you doing!?” he shouted at them. “Get your fucking hands off me right now!”

  “Keep your voice down, sir, or we must insist that you leave,” the bigger of the security men ordered.

  “I’m not shutting up. I know what this is! I know what this is. Get Harlem Dawes down here right now!”

  The security men forced Jude outside, pushed him to the ground and restrained him.

  “Tory! Victoria! Help me!” he screamed and sobbed.

  “You're gonna get real calm real fast or we’re calling the police,” the security guard warned him.

  Upon hearing the news, Harlan decided to address the matter personally, but not without calling in Meyerwitz to moderate.

  In the conference room, the masked security men put a mask on Jude and wiped his hands down with sanitizer before letting him sit down. The stern and authoritative clacking of Ms. Kalinski’s heels rapidly approached. She opened the door and stepped inside briskly followed by Harlan, who was slipping on a mask.

  Jude’s eye’s followed Harlan angrily as he took a seat across the table.

  “So, Mr. Coleman…” Harlan began and was interrupted by Ms. Kaminsky, who merely said, “Ah-hem,” as opposed to actually clearing her throat, apparently because she liked the sound of it.

  From a big manilla envelope, she slid a tablet, popped open its stand and balanced it on the table. Barry could be seen on the screen, looking quite impatient, as if he had perhaps actually been waiting in an envelope somewhere.

  “This is my attorney, Mr. Meyerwitz, safely joining us via the web. I have here one Jude Coleman of Wisconsin,” Harlan announced, like a gameshow host.

  “I am in the process of filing an order of protection on Ms. Stadler’s behalf,” Barry said, boldly, from the slim black plastic and glass. “Don’t make that become necessary.”

  “You look me in the eyes, Harlem Dawes,” Jude demanded.

  “Oh, just Harlem,” he chuckled, “Harlem’s good. Familiar. Friendly. Very New York-like. Perhaps I should change it from Harlan to Harlem.”

  “Tell me you didn’t tamper with her girlhood,” Jude demanded. “Look me in the eyes like a man.”

  “On my honor as a gentleman, I promise I have only the best of intentions toward Ms. Stadler,” Harlan warbled humorously while realizing he actually felt that, exactly. “I also want to assure you that your friend will be appropriately compensated for her work here. The account brought in 700K. I’m going to see that Victoria gets a significant sum. I can make that work, right, Barry?”

  “I’ll address that later. Let me ask some questions. How long have you known Victoria Stadler?” Meyerwitz asked Jude.

  “My whole entire life,” Jude exaggerated.

  “And what, may I ask, is your relationship to her?” the lawyer continued.

  “We were to be engaged, before she broke things off with me.”

  “Nice. Good for you,” Meyerwitz said, “How much do you know about what Ms. Stadler did at NextThing.Net?

  “I know she did that iGo thing. Everybody knows it,” he growled at the small image of the lawyer on the screen.

  “Did Victoria Stadler put you up to this and promise you money?”

  “What the fuck is wrong it you!?” He grabbed the tablet and flung it against the wall, as the security men grabbed him, smashed his face on the table and tried cuffing his hands behind his back.

  Harlan approached the struggling young man.

  “That last question really threw me too, Buddy. But this is not the best time to get involved with the justice system in our country. I’d straighten up if I were you,” Harlan advised then walked out.

  Back in his office, Harlan was speaking with Barry Meyerwitz, the screen of his tablet cracked and flickering.

  “I’m not trying to run your life, Harlan. You’ve been in quarantine. Locked up. Take some time, is all I’m saying. We don't want any press, right? Lay low. You’ve been tested. Go visit your mother. Do something. Buy a car. See if it blows over by the weekend at least,” the lawyer advised.

  Seeing Jude on the ground crying out to her for help was difficult for Tory to endure. The stresses and horror of the pandemic seemed to have worn civility away from so many. She wondered what she would say to Jude’s parents, or her own, for that matter, now that her little “secret” relationship was clearly out. It seemed that all of a sudden, no part of her previous life seemed viable at all.

  Tory truly worried about Jude, for his own sake. She also had Harlan to consider. She didn’t want to scandalize him or NextThing.Net. She didn't want media coverage that could possibly cast aspersion on the design contest she’d won or the work she had just performed for iGo.

  How unraveled Jude had become did make her wonder if he was right. Harlan was no virgin. She imagined a squadron of women at an airport waiting, their emotional baggage all having a bit of Harlan tucked in a dark corner.

  What if it was just one of those things that happened in confinement, never to be repeated or spoken of in the real world? she’d mused grimly.

  Earlier in the evening, she’s tried Harlan’s phone but got no answer. She had called Ms. Kaminski and asked where Harlan was.

  There was a brief pause before she’d answered, “He went to buy a car... for his mother,” in a tone that didn’t sound very convincing.

  At the end of the meeting, Jude had given, walking out with the promise that the cops wouldn’t be called. And Harlan was still meeting privately with his lawyer.

  At first, Tory wandered around, waiting for him. The NextThing.Net offices and the design studio were partially staffed. The cliques and klatches made the environment seem suddenly alien and somehow colder despite the number of people around.

  She decided to go back to her hotel room. Waiting for Tory there was a check that Ms. Kaminski had dropped off, that represented her compensation from her work for iGo was tremendous. Now she had enough money to go anywhere and start any kind of life she wanted. Adolescent dreams of settling down with Jude seemed almost ridiculous when faced with the funds and possibilities.

  And yet she still wanted to find a way to make it work with Harlan. She couldn’t believe that he was still a womanizer. There was definitely something special between them. Still, she needed him to show her that he felt it, too.

  Gazing dreamily at the bright Mondrian prints in her little room, she smiled, then teared up a moment later. Maybe it was time to go home, she thought. Even though she knew she would never go back with Jude, perhaps Jude would leave the city and his issues with Harlan alone, now that he realized they were certainly over, with no hope of ever getting back together.

  She started to pack her things. It didn't take long. In jeans and a sweater, she rolled her small carry-on bag down the hall to Mahira’s door and knocked.

  Mahira was not in her room. Around dinner time, she could be in the cafeteria. Not interested in seeing any other people, Tory pulled her luggage to the elevator instead and put on her mask.

  Inside the elevator, she was about to press the button for the lobby, but instead she waved a red card Harlan had given her over the sensor and was carried up to his lounge. The sunset streaming in made it seem lonely and wasted when she was there alone in the modern minimal space.

  From her pocket she took the folded check for $200,000.00 and tucked it under the charging dock of his phone on the entertainment center, before climbing back up the four steps to the elevator. An hour later she sat in a practically empty car as the AirTrain whisked her to JFK.

  ***

  The chopper was over Connecticut when Harlan got the call from Ms. Kalinski about Tory leaving. He tried her phone but got no answer.

  The situati
on with Jude Coleman did bother him slightly. She’s the kind of girl who understands Sunday dinner, he said to himself. Maybe she was too good for an older former playboy and she clearly got a lot of attention from younger men without bad reputations.

  Perhaps Barry was right, and he should leave the situation alone. And yet something wouldn’t let him. It wasn’t just his dick. It was his heart, too.

  Arriving at the Canal Street Heliport in Stamford, Harlan rode an Uber Black to his mother’s house. Kendrick, his mother’s butler, came to the door and took Harlan’s small bag.

  “The regular room, Sir?” Kendrick droned.

  “That’s fine,” Harlan said.

  Hearing her Bossa Nova music echoing in the living room, Harlan knew where to find his mother. When he walked in the room, he was overcome. Considering herself an artist after Harlan’s father passed away, his mother had spent her quarantine time making dozens of colorful pastels, with which she’d lined one entire wall of the living room, turning it into a psychedelic space, with boxes of pastels and sketches all over the coffee table and sectional sofa.

  “What a Mother’s Day surprise!” Mrs. Dawes threw her arms around her son and looked at him.

  “You look healthy. You want something? Kendrick!” She called out.

  “No, no. I can get my own whatever. Don’t bother him,” Harlan pleaded, yet Kendrick appeared at the door momentarily.

  “Yes, Mom,” he offered.

  “Get Harlan something,” Mrs. Dawes ordered.

  Feeling guilty about making the old character get out of his chair, Harlan asked for a cognac.

  “And put it in a regular glass, okay?!” Harlan called after him.

  Then he dropped down on a clear spot on the sectional and gazed at his mother’s work.

  “You seem distracted, Harley,” his mom noticed.

  “I may have met someone,” he said distantly.

  “Not another one of those tall stupid girls who are afraid of bread, I hope,” his mother teased.

  “Ha, very funny. I think you’d hit it off. She’s a type of artist, herself. She knows her primary colors from her secondaries,” Harlan remarked, a bittersweet tone in his tone.