by Ali Parker
I finished my last bite of toast and pulled my laptop over onto my lap. I flipped it open and stared at the menacing blank page.
I bit down on my bottom lip. Hard. “Just write the damn thing,” I muttered to myself. “It’s just sex. It’s not a big deal. And there’s nobody here to judge you.”
Still, the words didn’t come.
I closed my eyes and groaned.
“Come on, Elise. Just because you haven’t gotten laid in two years doesn’t mean your characters can’t have a bit of fun.”
I stared at the blank page for another five minutes. And then another five passed, and another, and another, until I found myself still blinking at my screen after almost a full forty-five minutes.
I shook my head at myself. “If it sucks, you can just delete it.” And that was all the permission I needed. Worst-case scenario, I would select all and hit that glorious but fickle Delete button, and I could pretend I hadn’t just gone down the rabbit hole of fictional coitus.
“Note to self,” I said, pinching my tongue gently between my lips as I started typing. “Don’t refer to it as coitus. So not sexy.”
Matthew didn’t wait for her to close the door. He moved quickly, gathering her up in his arms and pushing her back until her shoulder blades hit the wall. He pinned her there, their breath mingling between them as they stared at each other with need.
“I haven’t done this in a long time,” she whispered.
Matthew dipped his chin, nipping at her lips. “Are you asking me to take it easy on you?”
She trembled as his grip on her tightened. Licking her lips and tasting him on her tongue, she shook her head. “No, I just—”
“You just what?” Matthew purred, dragging his lips along her throat and up the side of her neck to her ear. His breath was hot on her skin, and it made her shiver with goose bumps. Such a contradiction.
She stammered to try to answer him, but her words failed her. He was too close. All of him flooded her senses, leaving her wondering how on earth they got here. It was just dinner. And one drink. And suddenly here she was, pinned to the wall by the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on. And he was undressing her with his eyes. She was sure of it.
“You just what, kitten?” he asked when she failed to speak.
“I just don’t know how to do this.” Her words came out of her in a breathless rush. She spoke the truth. It had been so long since she’d been touched like this, and she was completely overwhelmed by the sudden intimacy.
Overwhelmed but not scared.
Flustered, but not worried.
She was turned on. Hot. Needy. Aching.
Matthew smiled down at her. “Then let me refresh your memory, Alice. You start with a kiss.” He kissed her deeply. His tongue slipped between her lips and explored her mouth as she pushed against his chest, not to stop him, but to keep herself from giving in too quickly. If she didn’t show restraint, she might turn into a puddle of come in his hands. And that would be embarrassing.
After he kissed her, he placed a finger beneath her chin and made her look up at him. “And then you undress. And you take your time.”
“Why?” she breathed. Alice wasn’t trying to be difficult. She just wanted to hear that deep, sexy voice of his telling her what to do for as long as possible. Forever.
Matthew chuckled as he reached down and popped open the button of her jeans. He slid the zipper down, one metal ridge at a time, until a sliver of her pink lace panties were exposed. Then he slid his hand between the denim and the lace and cupped her pussy. “Because the anticipation is half the fun. And I want to take my time. I want to savor you.”
“God damn,” I growled, slapping the laptop closed.
My panties were soaked.
I hadn’t expected my own writing to turn me on, but crazier things had happened. I’d written a scene that involved an ice cream once and had left my apartment just to go down the street to the ice cream parlor to order myself two scoops of pralines and cream—a flavor I wasn’t even that big a fan of.
This was a whole different ball game than an ice cream craving, though. This was a sex craving.
“Oh stop it, Elise. This is foolish. You’re not having a sex craving for God’s sake.” As a writer, I spent a lot of time alone. In isolation. Hence, I talked to myself a lot.
Like, a lot.
“A cup of water will fix you right up.” I went to the kitchen, filled a glass of water, chugged the whole thing down, and promptly pinched my knees together as my insides squirmed.
I needed a release.
At least I hadn’t bothered putting the bed up today.
I dropped down onto it and lifted my ass off the bed to pull my sweat pants and panties down around my knees. I rolled to the side to pull my vibrator out of my nightstand drawer. It was a powder blue and chrome-accented little toy, no longer than my finger. It was narrow in the middle and wider on the ends, like a bow tie, and the main selling feature: it was waterproof. My vibrator and I had spent many good nights in the bathtub of this apartment, which also happened to be the main selling feature of this place, too.
I spread my legs as far as they would go with my pants still around my knees. Then I reached down and discovered just how wet I really was. Gloriously wet. It glistened on my fingers and was completely transparent and slippery.
The good stuff.
I held down the little button on the end of the vibrator, and it powered on with a soft hum. I licked my lips and lowered the toy between my legs.
When it touched my clit, I yelped in surprise and flinched. I was so sensitive, all because of a little fictional scene I’d concocted in my head.
I needed to get laid just as bad as Alice did.
Poor Alice. Poor me. My pussy had been lonely for a long, long time. I treated her well, of course, but I couldn’t replace the way a man made me feel.
I sighed with pleasure when the vibrator hit that sweet spot. I rolled it gently over my clit, and my muscles turned to soup. I sank deeper into my mattress, eyes closed, face awash in the sunlight streaming through the window, and I arched my back and curled my toes with delight.
Then my phone rang.
I yelped with embarrassment I shouldn’t have felt and scurried to the edge of the bed to pluck the phone from the night stand. I felt my eyebrows crawl toward each other on my forehead. Before answering, I took a few deep breaths to steady my breathing.
Then I lifted it to my ear. “Mr. Johnson? Hi.”
“Elise! Hello. How is my favorite student?”
I smiled at the memory of sitting in his band class while he led the percussion. “I’m great,” I said. I just came five seconds ago. How much better could I be?
“I’m glad to hear it. I was wondering, if by chance, you had tomorrow evening free? I’m finally retiring, and there’s a get-together happening to celebrate. I would love it if you could be there.”
I swallowed. “Retirement, huh? About time.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“I’ll be there, Mr. Johnson. Thank you for thinking of me.”
“Fantastic! I’ll send over the details shortly. And Elise?”
“Yes?”
“I hope you’re still writing.”
I felt my cheeks turn pink. “I am.”
Chapter 3
Dallas
Another knock on my office door. Goddammit.
“Come in.”
The door opened, and Elijah Miller, the Account Manager for the sales department, slid inside. He left the door open as he crossed his arms over his chest and nodded at the clock on my wall above the window. “Ready to get out of here?”
I rolled to my feet, collected the loose papers of the manuscript I was flipping through, and slid it back to the corner of my desk. “Yes. Before Chance finds out I’m still here and tries to corner me to introduce me to his new assistant.”
He rolled his eyes. “So he’s told you about Dalia, too?”
I nodded. “He told me mor
e than enough.”
“Same.”
“He’s a snake,” I said.
“The girl won’t make it past Monday,” Elijah said.
“My money is on Friday.”
“Wanna bet?” Elijah asked, cocking his head to the side. “Loser buys drinks at Stoney’s?”
I grabbed my leather jacket from the hook beside the door and shrugged into it. “You’re on. Would you like to choose another day? Or do you want to stick with Monday? That only gives her one more day with him.”
“I’m sticking with it. I wouldn’t be able to last eight full hours working so closely with Chance. And I don’t have tits.”
“Fair point,” I said as we stepped out into the hall. I couldn’t help but look back and forth toward marketing and sales, and then back to interior relations, where Chance’s office was. His door was closed. Maybe he’d gone home for the night.
Elijah caught me checking and laughed. He fell into step behind me, grabbed my shoulders, and squeezed hard, shaking me back and forth and setting my stride into an awkward stagger. “Don’t be such a spaz.” He chuckled. “Chance went home at four thirty. I saw him leave.”
“Thank God.”
Elijah shrugged. “He’s not that bad. Free entertainment at the very least.”
“I have a five year old. I don’t need any more entertainment than that.”
Elijah grinned. “How is Roy doing, by the way? I haven’t seen the little squirt in a while.”
“It’s been five days,” I said flatly. “And don’t call him squirt.”
“Why?”
I shrugged. “I don’t like it.”
“Well, I do, and I’m cool Uncle Elijah. I can call him what I want.”
“It’s a shitty nickname.”
“It’ll help build his character.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Like being called One Pump Eli helped you build character in high school?”
Elijah stopped walking, and his hands fell from my shoulders. “Dude, that was a low blow. And the two are very different things.”
“Sure are. But keep calling my son squirt, and I’ll call you One Pump. Your call.”
“Asshole,” Elijah muttered as I pulled open the main office door to head out into the lobby where the elevators were. I jabbed the down button, and as we stood and waited, the door opened behind us, and a woman with gray spiky hair hurried out.
Winzly.
She was an agent who worked closely with Treo Publishing, and she was a bit of a nut; the good kind of nut, at least.
She wore flowing ankle-length skirts in a variety of colors and patterns. Her boots poked out at the hem of the skirt, and she had a loose white blouse tucked into the waistband and secured with a thick leather belt. She looked like she belonged in another era. Or another world.
Perhaps both.
Winzly’s glasses were purple and cat eyed, and her big blue eyes looked even bigger behind the lenses. Her spindly fingers hosted a ring each, with varying jewels and stones and colors of gold and silver. She held up her hand as the elevator opened, and I held it for her.
The three of us stepped on, and as soon as the doors were closed, Winzly turned her big smile to me. “Nice to see you, Dallas.”
“And you,” I said politely.
“I was hoping to run into you today. I have a writer up my sleeve. A young woman with a brilliant voice and an uncanny knack for telling the sorts of stories that change people. And she doesn’t even know it. Super charming. A PR dreamboat, I’d say.”
This was out of Elijah’s element, so he merely looked back and forth between the agent and me as we spoke.
“I assume there’s a reason you’re telling me about her?” I asked.
Winzly pushed her glasses higher up her nose and peered at me. “Why yes, of course. I think you need to meet her.”
“I trust your judgement, Winzly. I’ll meet with her. You just give me a time and place.”
“Oh, excellent,” Winzly cried, reaching out and clasping my hand in both of hers. “You’ll love her. I just know it. She’s a bit standoffish at first, but I’m sure you’ll be able to work with that. You broke that shrew Isla Crown out of her shell, after all.”
I chuckled. “That was no easy feat, Winzly. If you’re pawning off another pig-headed girl like that on me, I might bow out. My workload is getting obscene.”
“No, no, she’s sweet. Really.”
“All right,” I said. “I trust you.”
“I’ll get in touch with her and let you know where you can meet her next week. Sound good?”
I nodded. “Sounds great.”
Our conversation wrapped up as the elevator hit the ground floor. Winzly squeezed my hand before flitting out of the elevator like a butterfly, her skirts swishing around her as she hurried out onto the sidewalk.
Elijah slid his hands into his pockets as we crossed the lobby and emerged in the cool October sunshine. “That woman is always in a hurry every time I see her.”
“She’s busy.”
“It would seem so.” We came to a stop at the curb. My car was parked a few spots to the left, while Elijah’s was a few to the right. He tugged the collar of his jacket up closer to his throat as a breeze blew up the street. “What’s your plan now?”
“I have to go pick Roy up. He’s at the pool.”
“Still in those swimming lessons, huh?”
I nodded. “Yeah, he loves it. And I’m happy about it. Every kid should know how to swim so they don’t turn into teenagers like you.”
“What the hell was wrong with the kind of teenager I was?” Elijah asked defensively.
“You were the guy who sat on his towel working on his tan while the rest of us dragged the girls into the water. Because you were scared.”
“I was not scared,” Elijah said. His voice was just as stiff as it used to be back then.
I snorted. “Right. Sure you weren’t. Anyway, my kid won’t miss out because he’s afraid of water.”
“Screw you too,” Elijah said, lifting his chin. “Any other plans for the weekend?”
“Yes, actually. Mr. Johnson called. You know, the band director at Baker High?”
“I remember him.”
“He’s having a retirement party tomorrow night.”
“Oh?”
“Wanna join?” I asked.
Elijah pursed his lips. “I don’t know. Did he give you a plus one, or are you just trying to avoid going on your own because you’re afraid Elise will be there?”
“I’m not—”
“Afraid?” Elijah asked, arching an eyebrow. “My my, how the tables have turned. I may be afraid of water, but I’ve never been afraid of a girl.”
“She hates my guts.”
“So?” he asked.
I shrugged. “It would be awkward. I don’t want to run into her again after all this time without backup.”
He grinned. “You sound like you’re still seventeen.”
I rubbed the back of my neck and sighed. “Listen. We won’t stay long. But come with me? I’ll owe you one.”
“I don’t know, Dallas. It’s not really my scene. I didn’t even know Mr. Johnson that well. He won’t want me crashing.”
“Kate will probably be there.”
Elijah blinked.
I pointed an accusing finger at him, but my tone was good humored. “You might be able to say no to me, but we both know you’re a sucker for Elise’s sister.”
Elijah looked at his feet. “Fine. I’ll come. But if she’s not there, I’m bailing early.”
“That’s fine,” I said.
If Kate wasn’t there, that likely meant Elise wasn’t there either, and I was in the clear. I only needed Elijah with me as backup. I could handle any other curveball. Just not my ex-girlfriend.
Elijah slapped me on the shoulder before turning to his car. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Say hi to Roy for me.”
“I will,” I said, and then I went to my car, a sleek black Mercedes. I got in,
started the engine, and pulled away from the curb to head to the swimming pool, where Roy’s lesson was wrapping up in the next five minutes. I had just enough time to get there.
I arrived at the pool as the lesson ended, and the girl behind the counter waved me through. I cut down the hall between the male and female changing rooms and emerged at the edge of the swimming pool for lessons and training. I spotted Roy’s class at the shallow end, getting out of the water. The instructor was bent over, and she said something to each of them before they hurried along the side of the pool to the cubbies to my left, where their changes of clothes were.
Roy came out last. He said something back to the instructor, and she smiled. Then he came down the length of the pool to me, his bare feet slapping on the wet concrete.
He beamed up at me. “Hi, Dad.”
“Hey, kiddo,” I said, putting my hand on top of his wet head and messing his brown hair up. “How was it? Did you have fun?”
He nodded and ducked out from under my hand, playfully swatting it away as we made our way over to the cubbies. “Yes. Miss Chelsea said I did good today.”
“What did you say back to her?”
“That she did good, too.”
I laughed. “Of course you did.”
Roy bent in front of the cubbies and pulled his bag out. He slung it over one shoulder and nearly toppled backward with the weight of it. I steadied him and tried not to laugh. He was a bit smaller than most kids his age. He’d grow into his size eventually, but until then, it was a bit of a sore spot for him.
Before he ducked into the changing room, I called him back. He peered up at me, his brown eyes big and round. “Yes, Dad?”
“You’re going to have to spend tomorrow night with Papa. Is that okay with you? I have a last-minute event I have to go to.”
Roy nodded. “I like Papa’s.”
“All right, go on then.” I nodded to the changing room, and he slipped inside.
I sighed. Of course he liked Papa’s. My dad was loaded and gave Roy anything and everything he wanted. Which, for a five-year-old, was glorious.