by Charish Reid
John glanced down, his brow creased and his lips drawn tight. “By all means,” he said in a hoarse gasp. She grinned as he completely lost control to the sensations that rocked through him. She returned her lips to his shaft and sucked vigorously. “Good god, honey,” John breathed, resting his hand on the back of her head. He didn’t push her to take more, instead, he ran his fingers through her braids to massage the back of her neck. Each groan and shudder he gave thrilled her to the center of her wet sex. She worked her fingers in her pants fast and hard, even more excited by their brazen act. Victoria was so absorbed by her motions and his taste that she didn’t notice that John had wound her braids around his fist. “Come up for air, baby.”
“Mmh?” She intoned, her mouth still full.
John’s dark green eyes glittered above her as he gently pulled her away from his cock. It popped from her mouth and flipped upward.
“Was I not doing it right?” she panted.
He gave a dark chuckle as he lowered himself before her. “No, darling, you did it right.” He pulled out the condom and ripped it open with his teeth. “You do it entirely too right for me to last.”
“But—”
“No buts,” he said in a firm tone as he sat flat on the floor and slid the latex down his shaft. “I’m not going to finish without you.”
Victoria heaved a disappointed sigh.
“Don’t pout, Dr. Reese,” John said, pulling her pants to her knees. “I told you what I’d do to that bottom lip.”
She grinned as she stood and slipped her shoes off. Her pants followed. “You promise?”
John reached up and gave her a swift smack on her bottom in response. “Don’t test me, honey.”
Victoria lowered herself onto him, not able to recall a time in her life when she’d felt this free or daring. She didn’t want it to end. The next time they met, things would surely change. Date. It would be another role for her to play, another mask to wear. She tried to push the strange anxieties of Thursday from her mind as he sank inside her. Enjoy this moment, Victoria. Enjoy this wild, reckless moment with him.
Chapter Seventeen
A Thursday lunch date is nothing to be nervous about.
But as John charted the familiar path towards Victoria’s office, the pit in his stomach said something entirely different. Where do you take a woman like Victoria for lunch? How do you even make lunch sordid? What will she think of my beat-up truck with the door you really have to slam for the lock to catch? As he traversed the hallway with its dark reddish-brown wood flooring—probably something fancy like mahogany—his hands sweat under the potted orchid he carried. He found the plant at a downtown florist and had bought it immediately. Now, it weighed him down with its symbolism. What if she thought the gesture was corny? What if she didn’t want a visual reminder of greenhouse sex in her office? He banished the thought when he recalled their “whiskey locker” sex. They’d shared something magical in the dark, cramped space of the library basement. He really thought Victoria was loosening up and coming into her own when she knelt before him.
John needed to forget that saucy memory as well if he wanted to appear presentable at her place of work. When he came upon Victoria’s door, he shifted the orchid to one hand and knocked.
He waited and there was no answer.
He knocked again and jiggled the door knob. It was locked. Disappointment settled in his belly. Maybe she forgot, said the nagging doubt. No, Victoria doesn’t forget. She plans.
“You looking for Vicki?” asked a female voice from behind him.
John spun around and found a woman poking her head into the hallway. She wore a fashionably cropped afro with a pen stuck behind her ear. Large gold hoop earrings swung against her neck as she regarded him with a raised brow. “I am,” he said, walking towards her. “Do you know where I can find Dr. Reese?”
The woman stepped out into the hallway where he could see her better. She was dressed in a black turtle neck, blue jeans that were ripped at the knees, and bright pink Doc Martin boots. “I might,” she said with a sly grin. “Who’s asking?”
“John Donovan,” he said, sticking his hand out for a shake.
Realization lit her hazel-brown eyes as she took his hand. “Ahh, okay. You’re the Viking...”
He knew his face was turning red by the second, but he pushed past it, pretending everything about that statement was completely normal. “And you’re a friend of, uh, Victoria’s?”
She nodded with a wide grin. “I’m Paula, and Vicki’s probably still in her classroom. Her Post-Colonial Lit class is really popular; those kids usually stick around to talk about the readings.”
“Gotcha.”
Paula crossed her arms over her chest. “She’s just down the hall, and to the left, in room 155.”
John smiled, hoping he didn’t appear too desperate to see her. “Thank you,” he said, his heart kicking into a full gallop. “It was nice to meet you, Paula.”
She retreated to her office with the same knowing grin. “You too, Mr. Donovan.”
He took a deep breath and headed in the general direction Paula had pointed out, following the room numbers as he walked. So that is one of the friends who probably knows all about me. He hoped he made a decent enough impression, since women did talk. He stopped outside of the open door of room 155 and peeked in.
Her friend hadn’t been lying when she said the class was popular. Five or six students surrounded Victoria’s podium as she tried gathering her things. One young woman was jabbering excitedly about something... John leaned against the door frame to eavesdrop on the scene.
“So, do you think I can write ten pages based only on Irie Jones’s trip to the salon? I want to talk about a biracial girl’s hair journey through a Marxist lens.”
Victoria nodded. “Of course, you could write ten pages, Izzy. Irie would make for an excellent character analysis. She’s trying to navigate two worlds in a London that claims racial diversity, but falls short.”
The young woman was practically mooning over her professor’s words. “Do you think Zadie Smith based Irie Jones on herself?”
“It’s hard to say. Maybe, maybe not?” Victoria shrugged. “When you do analysis work, it’s really tempting to put the focus on the author, but we have to avoid that. You must take the text at face value, as a stand-alone textual artifact. Unless Smith says ‘this is me on the page,’ you have to treat Irie with objectivity.”
Izzy scribbled something in her notebook. While other students clamored for face time, he noticed how Victoria hitched her satchel on her shoulder and glanced past the small group. Her gaze landed on him, standing in the doorway with a potted plant in his hands, and her eyes widened. He flashed her a smile and watched her expression turn from surprise to mild embarrassment. She returned his smile, but he saw the fleeting emotion and it stabbed him in the chest. John stepped away from the door and back into the corridor. He could hear her tell the remaining students to email her any questions. When she finally made it to the hallway, Victoria flashed him another smile. This one, John noted, didn’t feel as carefree as the one he’d grown accustom to. This one felt...off.
“Mr. Donovan,” she said in a breathy voice. As her small band of groupies left the classroom, she took him by the arm and guided him back towards her office. “I’m sorry I’m late getting out of class.”
John peered down at her. “It’s not a problem,” he said coolly, allowing himself to be led by the elbow. “I hope I didn’t interrupt your students.”
She shook her head. “They’re great kids, but if I let them, they’d add an extra hour to the class.”
“Where’s the fire, Dr. Reese?” he asked, trying to match her pace. She may have been shorter than him, but her little legs carried her quickly.
She slowed down once they neared her office door. “Oh god, I’m sorry,” she said with another embarras
sed expression. “I don’t know why I did that.” Her hands shook as she unlocked her office.
He followed her inside and watched her scurry around her desk, putting her things away. Something was wrong; Nervous Victoria was back. It was their first meeting all over again. “What’s wrong, darling?”
She paused to look up at him, actually seeing him for the first time. “Is that for me?” she asked in a warm voice.
He’d actually forgotten he held the potted orchid. “Yeah, I thought you might like something to brighten your office. It’s no Tanzanian Orchid, but the florist assured me it was just as hard to take care of.”
John exhaled as she giggled and finally approached him. She took the plant and gingerly stroked its full petals before hugging it to her chest. “This is beautiful, John,” she said in a soft voice. “And so thoughtful of you.”
To his surprise, she raised herself on her tiptoes and kissed his lips. Her soft hand rested on his chest as she balanced herself against him. John wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her back. “You’re welcome.”
“I don’t think I greeted you correctly,” she admitted, her warm breath fluttering against his cheek. “I think I just got nervous about my students assuming... I don’t know what they would assume. I’m sorry.”
John felt the tension from her body melt away the longer he held her. “I certainly wasn’t expecting a kiss on sight,” he murmured, looking for a way to kiss her again. “I understand that you have to be professional.”
Her lips tugged into a tremulous smile. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Are you hungry?” he asked, not wanting to let her go. Every lush curve conformed to his body, reminding him that she was made for his hands.
She waggled her eyebrows in a lascivious manner.
“For food,” John added quickly.
They shared an intimate laughter that lightened his heart. Okay, things are fine. They just had to find their footing and things would be as carefree as they had been last week. “I’m famished,” she said. “I had a lot of coffee before class and now I’m coming down.”
John released her. “Put the plant down and put your jacket on, I’m taking you downtown.”
Victoria carried her orchid to her desk and took a moment to pick a place for it to sit. “I’ll have to read up on how to take care of her,” she said, placing it on one corner before changing her mind, and moving it to the other side of her desk. “My mom is the one with the green thumb.”
He watched her move it one more time, closer to her computer. “Is that a fact?”
“Oh yeah, my mom can bring anything back from the brink. When she’s not planning military events, she spends a lot of time with her gardening society,” she explained, planting her hands on her hips. “Should I put this near the window?”
“I honestly don’t know,” John said, holding back his laughter.
“I like the way it looks here,” she twisted the pot so the blossom faced her. “But I wonder if it needs a lot of sunlight.”
“The Tanzanian Orchids didn’t appear to be quite as exposed...as we were,” he said with a chuckle.
She shot him a cross look before she rolled her eyes. “Okay, funny guy. Let’s go on this first date.”
John opened the door as she scooped up her jacket. “After you, Dr. Reese.”
* * *
They took John’s pickup downtown and parked on the street, in the heart of Farmingdale’s Restaurant Row. Mid-October swirled the leaves with a light wind and hid the sun behind dreary gray clouds, but John felt a bright radiance from the passenger’s side. Victoria sat with her hands on her lap and knees pressed together. She was the perfect picture of primness. As he turned the ignition off and sat back in his seat, John reached out and set his hand on her thigh.
“Are you hungry?”
She looked down at his hand and then to him, before smiling. “I am.”
John squeezed her thigh. After their week of unfettered access to one another’s bodies, John was finding it difficult to keep his hands off her. Even while he drove, he’d resisted the urge to run his fingers along her jawline, down the length of her slender neck. Jesus... “I was going to take you to Bordeaux, but you tell me where you’d like to eat.”
Her lips parted and a pink tongue darted to the corner of her mouth. John swallowed the impulse to lean over and lick the same spot. First date manners, John. “That sounds great,” she said in an airy voice. “I haven’t had a chance to go there.”
Their conversation was too light for the heavy sexual tension crowding the small cab of his truck. Victoria’s eyes caught his and flickered with renewed interest. Her nut-brown skin flushed slightly, causing John to tighten his grip on the steering wheel. “Victoria...”
“No, I know,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m having a hard time thinking too. I feel very distracted right now.”
Welcome to my world. John removed his hand from her thigh and leaned back to his side of the cab. “That settles it,” he said, unclipping his seatbelt. “We’re going to ignore this palpable lust and pretend to enjoy ourselves in a crowded restaurant.”
Her laughter came out in a snort. “Yes, okay.”
John got out and trotted around to her side as she opened her door. He took her by the hand and eased her down. They held hands while he closed her door, hesitant to release one another. He pulled her closer to his chest and dipped his head. “In the meantime, do you mind if I kiss you?” he asked.
Her face tilted upward. There was mischief in her eyes. “You’re so polite.”
“No harm in asking,” he murmured against her lips. Her eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks as her soft curves molded to the contours of his lean body. Their bodies, like their lips, fit one another perfectly, keeping a quiet, barely imperceptible rhythm that John felt with every heartbeat. Victoria’s tongue moved against his in a delicate dance and when she felt comfortable enough, she reached upward and rested her fingertips against his jaw. John liked her fingers there, he liked them anywhere on his person. At last, when he remembered they were on the street, he parted a few inches from her.
“That was nice,” she breathed as she opened her eyes.
The corner of John’s mouth quirked. “You almost sound shy about it.”
Victoria gave a tiny shrug. “I’m not used to this kind of public attention,” she said, lowering her voice to a near-whisper.
He leaned closer. “I think I’ve already proven that I’m happy to give you any kind of attention you need.”
She gave a tiny nod.
“And that I’ll drop whatever I’m doing to give it to you.”
Heat flared in her cheeks as she gave another nod. “Yes, you’ve proven that,” she said with a grin.
“Ms. Reese?” said a man’s voice from behind them. John straightened up and turned around to see an older gentleman wearing a tweed jacket and ratty scarf. His white hair flew in different directions as his gray eyes narrowed on them both. Victoria’s body stiffen against his and her hand pulled away from his grasp.
“Kenneth,” she said in a tight voice. “Hello.”
“Catching a bit of lunch?” he asked, peering from her to John. He let his gaze wander up and down before returning to Victoria.
“My...associate and I were taking a break from work,” she said in a hurried voice.
The man extended his hand towards John. “Your associate?”
John was confused as well. I couldn’t even get “friend” status? “The name’s John Donovan,” he said, taking Kenneth’s gloved hand. “Head of the Children’s Department at the Farmingdale Public Library.”
Kenneth engaged in a quiet squeezing competition during their handshake, and lost. “Interesting,” he said, pulling away. “Working with children? How admirable.”
Admirable. When Victoria had said the same word to descr
ibe his story hour, John had felt pride in his work. When this man uttered the term, snide disdain hung in the air like a dark cloud.
“Dr. Williams is the English Department’s Shakespeare scholar,” Victoria said to John. “And the Chair.”
“Mmh.” John didn’t care for the man. Kenneth reminded him of an old professor in his graduate studies who balked when John admitted that he’d never read Macbeth. For ten straight minutes, Professor Whitlock had lectured him about how “woefully” unprepared he was for his Literary Criticism course. John had sat there, amongst his peers, stone-faced and waiting for the rant to end. He had very nearly dropped the course, but that would have given Dr. Whitlock too much satisfaction.
“And John does wonderful work with children’s literacy,” Victoria added in a bright voice.
Kenneth Williams echoed the same terse “Mmh,” before adding, “And what are you two working on?”
“Dr. Reese and I are teaming up to create an internship for your students,” John said in a business-like tone. “We’re just nailing down the details over lunch.” Judging by Victoria’s tense demeanor, mentioning their lunch date would be a terrible idea.
Williams looked to Victoria and arched a white brow. “Is this for your Four-Week Initiative?”
Victoria gave a rigid smile. “It is.”
“As I pointed out during our last meeting, we don’t even have a Library Sciences program at Pembroke, Ms. Reese.” The old man’s tone dripped with sarcasm. “Our students go on to pursue actual literary careers.”
John cleared his throat and bridled the irritation in his voice. “Victoria, I thought you were a doctor,” he said, staring directly at Kenneth. “Our friend keeps referring to you as Ms. Reese.”