Haze

by Andrea Wolfe

  Honestly, I could have met anyone from a homeless man to a hipster coffee shop musician to an investment banker. Well, I did meet Jesse, so I had one of those covered. Instead, I was with a super-rich, talented, gorgeous man who lived in a world that was wholly foreign to me.

  "Hey, gorgeous." The familiar voice from behind startled me from thought. When I felt his kiss against my cheek, I realized my instinctive scared response had been unjustified.

  "Hi, Jack," I said quietly. My phone buzzed again; another text from my mom. Terrific.

  "Missed call?" he asked.

  "Just texts from my mom. Always trying to grill me for information or talk about herself."

  He smirked wryly. "Just be nice to her, okay?"

  It was a little surprising to hear him say that. "Why on earth would I take that advice from you?"

  "Eh, I guess maybe I'm doing a little figurative housecleaning and I don't want you to end up like me." The sun made his smile glow even more.

  "What? Rich, beautiful, and successful?"

  He smiled and I felt my heart skip a beat. "Right." His fingers reached for mine and touched my hand. "That really helped last night, seriously." His fingers traced along my exposed wrist, instantly creating something like electricity between our bodies.

  "I'm glad it did. Not knowing was driving me crazy."

  "Glad to hear you're so sympathetic to my case and not just fixated on the mystery part," Jack said with serious hints of sarcasm.

  "I was just trying to be honest!"

  Jack let a huge laugh and smiled. "How do you like that chair, anyway? Best in the world, right?"

  I flexed my body against it, once again realizing how comfortable it was. "No joke. Best chair I've ever sat in. I'm no expert in chairs, though."

  "That's good. I don't need another expert in chairs in my life."

  "What the hell are you talking about?" I started giggling at the thought.

  "You don't wanna know." He leaned forward and kissed me, his tongue tickling my own into submission. The conversation was over, at least for now. When his crotch brushed against my thigh, I already noticed that familiar, promising hardness.

  "Christ, you're totally gorgeous," he said, breaking the kiss. His hand parted my robe and immediately went to my breasts, thumbing playfully at the nipples. I let out a quiet sigh, but not so quiet that he didn't notice. His fingers were so warm, so comforting against my sensitive flesh.

  We were kissing again after that, Jack beginning to shift his weight onto my own. His erection ground against my robe-covered clit, my body responding to the gesture with pure wetness.

  Jack dropped his robe to the ground, his perfect body almost ethereal as the sunlight outlined it. The gesture to him was nothing; from my perspective, it was absolute beauty. A droplet of pre-cum had beaded on his tip and was glimmering in the growing light of the day.

  "Please, Jack," I whispered. He approached me and spread my robe open, leaning forward and taking each hardened nipple into his mouth, one at a time, swirling his tongue. Pleasure rippled through me in waves, waves that made me crave him like someone craving air while drowning.

  He leisurely rubbed his shaft against my moist slit, my legs spreading to give him better access. "I'll be right back," he said. "Let me grab a—"

  "No!" I pleaded. I don't know what overcame me. I guess it was the seed that I had planted in my own mind last night. I didn't want him to use a condom. I wanted to feel everything.

  "Effie, you're sure about that?"

  My cheeks were flushed red and I had never sounded more desperate in my life. "I'm on birth control," I said, my words spilling out frenetically. "Seriously, it's okay." I just wanted him inside of me, now.

  His cock slowly throbbing with his heartbeat, he silently calculated his next move. "Okay, Effie. But if you change—"

  "Okay, okay. I'll say something. Please, Jack!" I don't know why I wanted it so bad. What made today different from any other? Why was I thinking this way? It didn't matter, honestly—my analysis only made that more clear.

  He smiled wickedly and lined his engorged head up with my slit. After lifting my legs onto his shoulders, he slid into me, nothing separating our bodies for the first time. I cried out immediately, my walls clenching against every ridge and bump of his cock.

  No man had ever done this with me—and I was thrilled that I had saved this experience for Jack.

  My body perfectly contoured to the most comfortable chair in the world, Jack rocked into me hard, his hips shaking, his aggression and lust perfectly outlined in his face. I grimaced in the best way possible every time he plunged into my tightness.

  He kept my legs firmly supported, his rocking hips so smooth and consistent. My breasts shook on my chest with his every movement and his eyes greatly enjoyed the show.

  "God, Effie, you're so fucking hot," he groaned. His eyes met mine and we looked deep into each other, going far beyond the obvious physical connection of the act. The feeling between us was so raw, so unfiltered, so pure.

  Jack pressed on harder and harder, rubbing against all of the right parts of me. I was getting close to orgasm, so eager to feel him release inside of me. I couldn't explain my sudden animalistic urges. My own climax starting to emerge, I became hypnotized by his perfect body, his erection disappearing and re-emerging with every thrust. It was bliss. Nothing could interrupt our connection, not then...

  ... or at least that's what I thought. My phone vibrated, sending a sudden jolt of awareness through my body. I had forgotten to put the damn thing on silent! Suddenly, I was in an entirely different headspace altogether, too aware of everything happening at once. It was pure sensory overload.

  I was close to coming, but suddenly I wanted to eject. I wasn't ready for this, whatever it was. It had just been my body shouting random words, brutally censoring the pleas of my mind. Jack was pulsing, ready to explode in me. I didn't want to interrupt, didn't want to—

  My words spilled out just seconds ahead of his seed. "Jack, I can't! I'm sorry!"

  He stopped instantly and pulled out. I braced myself, as I feared he was about to give me a hundred verbal lashings. "It's fine," he said gently. His lips immediately met mine with an intense kiss, almost drug-like in its intensity. So drug-like that it almost made me forget what had happened. "Relax, Effie. Don't sweat it."

  My chest was still heaving. "I'm so sorry, Jack. I just couldn't do it. And the phone and—"

  "Shh," he whispered. "It doesn't matter. It's fine." His behavior was confusing to me. It drove guys mad if you stopped them right before coming. There was that whole blue balls thing too that they used to guilt you into finishing. I never knew if that was actually true or not.

  "Wait, you're fine?" I asked with a dazed sincerity. I struggled not to feel bad.

  "You had a proceed with extreme caution look on your face. Not gonna lie. I knew it was a gamble when I started. Seriously, no big deal."

  Dammit, Effie, I thought. Had I been that predictable? I suddenly knew what I would do.

  I propped myself up and took his cock into my mouth, spiraling and swirling against the head with my tongue. It had only softened slightly since our abrupt end. Within seconds, it was fully hard again.

  "Oh God, that's perfect." His eyes closed tight as he entered another realm of pleasure.

  The last time I tried this, I panicked and couldn't finish him in my mouth. That wouldn't happen today. I could taste my own juices on his shaft, could smell sex more potently than anything I'd ever smelled in my life.

  This was me. I was here, feeling, giving, taking.

  I stroked his shaft back and forth with urgency, dancing my tongue from the underside to the top of his tip. His hips began rocking again as he lightly fucked into my mouth, gripping my head with his hands for support.

  It was all so raw, so sensual, carnal.

  "Effie, I'm gonna come." It was a warning—and a promise. His low, raspy voice informed me of just how serious he was.

  I incre
ased my pace, ready for it to happen. He was loving every second of it, drowning in ecstasy. By this point, my own arousal had swelled as well.

  "Yes!" he groaned. His cock twitched in my mouth, his seed rushing from his balls to my tongue in quick, salty bursts. The taste wasn't overwhelming—in fact, it was mild, almost sweet. This man would never fail to amaze me...

  I swallowed every drop as it came (literally!), my hands gripping his flexed thighs for support. His climax rose and then fell; I kept right with him every step of the way. He was groaning, flexing, tightening, twitching. It was unfiltered—and all for me.

  Finally, his movements lessened and words returned to his lips. "Jesus, Effie. That was probably the best blowjob I've ever had."

  "Shut up," I said pathetically. "You don't need to lie."

  He let out a laugh, one that reeked of exhaustion. "I'm not lying. You're damn good at that, whether you believe me or not." His sentence was punctuated by a loud sigh.

  Despite my humility, I was blushing. Whether he was lying or not, it felt good to hear. "Well, thanks, I guess."

  "Your turn now." Jack lifted me and pushed me back into the chair. His tongue against my clit, I came twice before we even ate breakfast.

  ***

  When I got back to work on Monday, I felt like I was constantly trying to mask an I'm hiding something look on my face, even if the supposed look wasn't actually present at all. The weekend had been a rollercoaster ride, full of strangely serious ups and downs for such a young relationship. It was exhilarating, but a little scary, to be honest.

  Young relationship.

  I thought about my exes—Timothy included in this endearing experiment, for some absurd reason—and wondered if they would have done the same for me after such a short amount of time. Hell, I doubted any of them would have followed through the way Jack had, even after years.

  I suddenly pictured Timothy going crazy, smashing in the other guy's face—which happened to be his own in my memory—with his fists until it was a bloody pulp and the guy's heart stopped beating. Pretty confusing thought experiment.

  And then he'd wind up in jail—I strongly doubt he'd be able to justify it as self-defense—and I'd be alone. Prior to his behavior on Saturday, I never would have associated such imagery with him. Now, it seemed like the norm, his violent imagery replaying in my head like a scratched DVD left to run its course in the player.

  Enough.

  I wiped that slate clean in my mind as quickly as I could. Focusing too much on Timothy could legitimately give me nightmares. At least he didn't know my address...

  Actually, the whole situation made me feel a little bit like moving, something I obviously couldn't afford. It was weird that I was finally digesting these events now that I was at the office. It felt somewhat incongruous at first.

  But then, I realized that I had spent the whole weekend with Jack, and time with him was pretty much like a drug trip that made you forget about everything except the good stuff—and I was definitely sober now.

  I figuratively slapped myself and insisted that Timothy wouldn't be a problem. The situation had just been too much for him to deal with and he had handled it poorly. He hurt me, but the physical damage wasn't permanent. And at least now I had some real closure with him, closure that was signed, dated, and mailed to those in charge.

  My own woes aside, Sam had barely spoken to me all morning, and that was unusual. He also seemed to be peeking at me from inside his office more than usual. I suppose he had asked me about my weekend, commenting that Timothy sounded like a creep after I vaguely told him about Saturday.

  Some random guy grabbed him, I had said, my response cursory. As far as I actually knew in that painful moment, it was the truth. Sam did seem legitimately concerned, which made his silence all the more weird.

  Why had I even told him about it? Well, because he asked.

  After lunch—it was a quick meal out with Jack, of course—Sam finally approached me again.

  "Effie, you're sure you're all right? That story you told me was really rough." He seemed more distraught about the situation than I was.

  "I'm fine, really. Just a bump on the head." When he didn't even seem to notice that I had spoken, I inquired. "Sam, is everything okay with you?"

  "The man upstairs is giving me a hard time about this Jack Teller/Lexy Brown shit."

  "Is that supposed to be a religious reference?" I asked jokingly.

  Sam just stared back at me disapprovingly and continued. "I've still heard no word about it, and that worries me because it probably means he signed with someone else. Who knows how much longer I'll be around here. This might prove to just be the one deal I couldn't afford to lose. She's blowing up on college radio and we're missing out on all the action."

  I sipped my coffee and smiled at him. "I'm sure he's just taking his sweet time making the decision. He's an artist type—you know how indecisive those guys can be."

  "You're sure he's just taking his time?" he snapped. "How the hell would you know that? He's probably just too busy fucking Lexy to make a decision."

  My cheeks flushed a little red, partially out of irrational jealousy, partially as a defense mechanism. "He would never do—" I trailed off, not sure where I was going. "He didn't seem like that type to me."

  "What? You really don't think he's the walking hard-on type? I've met hundreds of guys like him and they're all exactly same. If it's hot, they'll fuck it and never turn back." Sam ran his hands through his already-messy hair. "Why do you think I'm divorced?"

  I was close to boiling over at that point. Thankfully, Jack had discussed his views on promiscuity with me, otherwise I would have probably started crying. "I don't know why you're divorced, Sam. You tell me!"

  "Because some hot-shot musician like Jack Teller couldn't keep his hands off my goddamn hot wife!"

  I really didn't know what to say to that. We both fell silent for what felt like an eternity, me trying to decide the right words, Sam trying not to explode like a bomb. I guess his miserable experience just came with the territory.

  "I'm sure it's just indecision. Let it go, Sam."

  He retorted with lightning speed. "Not Jack! He didn't get where he is because he couldn't make decisions. Goddammit, Effie, haven't you learned anything at this job?"

  "Sam, that's cruel. And I'm sorry about your wife."

  "It's the truth," he insisted. His face looked more weathered and tired than ever. "I'm better off without her," his words sounded as if he were reading them from a script. This was hugely sensitive turf for him, turf that was making him behave unpredictably.

  I decided that I needed to bring this down a few notches before it turned into something even more serious than it already was. "Sam, you need to relax. Why the hell are you yelling at me about this?"

  His volume suddenly dropped to almost a whisper and his eyes squinted. "I think you're hiding something from me. I really do. Something doesn't add up here."

  "What the hell are you talking about? That's ridiculous," I said. "What the hell would I be hiding? Drop the conspiracy theory bullshit." In that moment, I almost felt like admitting it to him, breaking down my walls and entering the realm of full disclosure. I didn't, however. I wanted to talk to Jack about this first.

  "I don't know what's going on here around my back, Jacobs, but I'll figure it out sooner or later." He turned around and angrily stomped back to his office. If we had been in the desert, there would have been a trail of dust following behind his shadow.

  "Are we like a high school sports team now, Beckermann?" I shouted back, invoking his last name like he'd used mine. He didn't say anything back, most likely because he didn't hear me. That was probably a good thing. I didn't need to deal with this all day.

  "He's been mad all morning," one of the interns said to me as she passed by. "And paranoid. Don't sweat it. Or take it personally."

  I shook my head and frowned. Even though Sam was right, he didn't have any proof. And even then, what difference did
it make? I wasn't that familiar with the legalese surrounding my position, but I figured it was fine just as long as I didn't influence the decision. If he had been throwing a fit all morning, that probably meant he was just lumping me in with everything else that was peeving him.

  My vision suddenly caught the wilted roses that were still sitting on my desk from the previous week. They felt like a scarlet letter, especially given Sam's impromptu inquisition, and I felt incredibly stupid that I hadn’t dealt with them sooner. I wasn't sure how I had managed to ignore them the whole day until now.

  On my way out of the office, I angrily tossed them in the hallway trashcan. There was something cathartic about leaving them where Sam would see them for sure, and it was something I really needed in that moment. Hopefully he'd feel bad about yelling at me and pushing me to throw away the "anonymous" gift.

  I decided that I wouldn't say anything to Jack about throwing his gift in the trash.

  After work, I stopped at my preferred—which also happened to be the closest—indie coffee shop and grabbed an Americano. My coffee habit seemed to rise and fall in tandem with my stress levels and that meant I was probably spending more money than I should have been. In moments like these, however, I felt like an addict that could never say no.

  Jack hadn't made any definitive plans with me yet, so I called him a few blocks before getting to my apartment.

  "Hey, Effie," he said, his voice rushed and fleeting.

  "Jack, where are you? Are we eating somewhere tonight?"

  "I'm so sorry. I'm stuck in the studio tonight and I'm not going to be able to sneak away since I'm on someone else's dime."

  "Oh." I felt a little down. "Can I stop by or something?"

  There was a bunch of commotion in the background, commotion that included a woman's voice. I assumed it was Lexy and fought not to feel irrationally jealous. Stupid Sam, making me worry unnecessarily...

  "Effie, I'm so sorry. I should have told you about this, but it came up at the last second. I just can't have any interruptions tonight. It's not going as planned, and I need to pick up the pieces."