by Gemma Weir
“Not this week,” she says, her eyes sad. “It’s not every day, or every week. It’s so weird. I’m starting to wonder if I’m imagining it.”
“If you want, I can go over the figures in the morning and see if a fresh set of eyes will help?”
Grits looks at me and a slow smile spreads across her lips. “That would be really great. Let’s get everything shut down so we can get home, it’s late.”
Like always, I follow her home, then drive away when Anders opens their front door to greet his old lady. Sleep comes easy and as my eyes drift shut there’s a huge fucking grin on my face.
I wake with a start, a light sheen of sweat coating my body and the sheets tangled around my legs. Hot need pulses between my thighs and I pant, still a little consumed by the dirty, dirty dream I was just having.
Flashes of my dream burst into my thoughts. A body on top of mine. Hips pumping as I writhe beneath him. Muscles tense beneath my hands as he pushes me closer and closer to what I know is going to be a mind-blowing orgasm.
The dark hotel room closes in around me and I squirm on the bed, my body dissatisfied that my dream ended before I could come. I roll to my side, hoping to go back to sleep, to fall back into the erotic dream, but again I’m left wanting when my body refuses to cooperate. I know I could get up, take a shower and go get breakfast before work, but my skin is tingling, urging me to finish things, to quell this need inside of me.
Before I even make a conscious decision, I’m off the bed and rooting through my case for the little bag of self-love goodies I brought with me. Selecting my favorite vibrator, I rush back to the bed and slide beneath my sheets. Twisting the base of the vibe until it bursts to life, the buzzing noise and the vibration against my hand has me inhaling excitedly, anticipating the relief I know is coming.
I close my eyes, allowing the visions from my dream to seep back into my thoughts. Sliding the toy between my legs, I rub it along my sex gently, teasing myself with the vibrations across my sensitive skin.
Testing how turned on the dream has made me, I dip the tip of the vibe into my sex and it glides with ease through my wetness. Bringing it back up to my clit, I circle the sensitive bud, gasping as the vibration pulses through me. Then I move it lower, slowly pushing the toy into my pussy.
The pink, vibrating dildo is the perfect size and within moments I feel full, the head hitting that spot inside of me that makes my toes curl. The best things about masturbating is that I know exactly what to do to make myself feel good and as I slowly slide the toy back out, then push it back inside of me, I tilt my hips making sure that it hits the spot again and again.
I allow my mind to wander back to the scene of my dreams and the toy becomes the guy in my fantasy. It’s not me fucking myself with a sex toy; it’s him, sliding in and out of me, pushing me toward completion as his huge, toned body moves between my legs.
I imagine him whispering dirty things into my ear, telling me how tight my pussy is, how it belongs to him. How he’s gonna fuck me until I’m screaming, then flip me over and start all over again, until I’m so well fucked all I can do is lie there and let him take me as I scream his name.
His words send me higher and higher, his dick thrusting into me a little harder and quicker. I push up onto the balls of my feet, lifting my butt from the mattress and changing the angle until I’m almost there, the pleasure I’m grappling for right there waiting to crash over me.
The man fucking me grips my ass, squeezing me until it’s almost painful and he fucks me, harder and hard until I come, panting and moaning. He lifts his head from my neck while his back arches and he releases inside of me. Our eyes lock and his beautiful face looks down at me. “Oh, Justin,” I rasp, right before we collapse together, a pile of sweaty limbs and ragged breaths.
When my breathing slows, I open my eyes, banishing my fantasy and coming back to reality with a horrified intake of breath. I just had a sex dream about Justin the biker.
Hours later, the image of his huge, ridiculous body looming over mine while he fucked me stupid is plaguing my thoughts. I’ve been working on autopilot all freaking day and I genuinely have no idea why one dirty dream is haunting me so much.
This isn’t the first time I’ve had a sex dream starring someone I’d never actually consider sleeping with in real life. As a teenager, I had a series of particularly disturbing dreams featuring my brother’s best friend, a guy literally old enough to be my dad. But something about having a wet dream about Justin is really messing with my mind. Maybe it’s because he’s so pretty, or maybe it’s because I feel a bit shitty about how I treated him this weekend. I really don’t know him and because he reminded me of my last boyfriend the douche-whore, I was Bitchy McBitchpants to a complete stranger.
“Riley,” Dan says from behind me, pulling me from my post-sex-dream analysis.
I turn in my seat to look at him, flashing him a fake smile. “Dan, hi.”
Dan was already in his office when I got in this morning, but even though his door was open and he tends to be in and out talking to his team, this is the first time we’ve spoken today. I kind of like that even though I’m having to work from the office, rather than at home like I prefer, no one is bugging me to chat or gossip.
In a week or so, I’ll have reviewed most of the game and I’ll have to start interacting with the coders, but at the moment I’m still free to completely immerse myself in line after line of code.
“How’s your day so far?” he asks.
I glance at the time on my laptop and realize that it’s after six already, and yet again I haven’t stopped or eaten all day. “Wow, I can’t believe it’s so late already. Today really flew by.”
Dan laughs and a cute blush fills his cheeks. “I noticed you haven’t eaten today. Would you join me for dinner?”
“Sure, that would be great,” I say, and I almost mean it. I like Dan; he’s a good boss, but I feel a little uncomfortable about our kiss. I hadn’t been expecting it. Sure, there had been moments when I’d thought he was flirting with me, but most of the time he behaves like I’m nothing more than a member of his staff. When he’d pressed his lips against mine, it had been a shock, and now I don’t really know how to act around him. If he was flirting with me, I’d know how to behave, I’d be okay. But either he’s super subtle or he’s just not very good at it; or of course, it could be that he’s not interested and I’m seriously over-thinking this.
Dan’s face breaks into a wide smile and I suddenly realize that maybe it doesn’t matter either way. I can just go to dinner, relax, and enjoy myself; he really is pretty cute after all. He waits as I pack up my laptop and slide everything into my purse, then we leave the office together. He places his hand on the base of my spine as we wait for the elevator and I stiffen, trying not to over-think the familiarity of his touch.
“I thought we might try a place a buddy of mine recommended if that’s okay?”
“Sure, as long as it’s not Ethiopian food. I had a bad experience a few years back,” I say with a teasing smile.
“Shoot, I was planning to take you for Ethiopian food tomorrow.” Dan says, teasing me right back.
I laugh and begin to relax. Dan is exactly the type of guy I should go for. He’s nothing like Greg and we have so much in common. Deciding to give the lackluster kiss and his possible flirting the benefit of the doubt, I let him guide me through the lobby and out to his car. He slides in next to me, then waits for the driver to close the door before he speaks.
“How was your weekend?” He asks.
“It was good. I met up with the friend I was telling you about on Friday night. The night got a little crazy and I ended up staying at her place outside the city.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“It was, although my hangover the next morning told me I had a little too much fun,” I say with a grimace.
There’s a flash of disapproval in his features. Then it’s gone and instead he smiles at me and I wonder if maybe I imagined it. Aft
er the driver gets in, we glide effortlessly through the evening traffic and pull to a stop outside a modern looking restaurant facade, with statement metal doors and a kind of steampunk vibe that I instantly love.
“This place looks awesome,” I say, turning to Dan once I’ve climbed from the car.
He inhales, his eyes scanning the entrance and then swallows before nodding and flashing me a pained smile. I can tell that he obviously doesn’t like this place and I almost want to suggest we find somewhere else to eat. But the graffiti art on the walls mixed with the eclectic steampunk features is calling me to go and experience it.
“Shall we?” Dan says, ever the gentleman, and I nod and excitedly let him open the door for me to walk inside.
We’re seated at a booth by a costumed hostess and handed engraved metal menus. Dan is obviously uncomfortable, but he’s a good sport about it and even picks a themed drink when the waitress returns to take our orders.
“You had no idea this was a themed restaurant, did you?” I ask him, fighting to hide my smile.
“I didn’t,” he says with a grimace.
“Do you really hate it? We can leave and find somewhere else to eat?” I offer.
“It’s fine. Plus I can tell you really want your Drunken Earl and I wouldn’t deprive you of what I’m guessing is maybe a luminous green steaming cocktail.”
I can’t help the giggle that escapes. “I’m sorry. I’m not really laughing at you; more the look on your face.”
He cringes again, then rests his elbow on the table and leans his chin into his hand. “Have you decided if you want to stay in the hotel while you’re here, or would you like me to look for a short-term rental for you? My father’s company have some corporate apartments in the building I live in. If you’d like, I could see if any of them are available. We could be neighbors,” he says, looking up at me and freezing me to the spot with the intensity in his eyes.
Swallowing, I slowly blink, allowing my eyes to take in his handsome face. A wave of something crashes between us. It’s not lust, but more awareness and intrigue. I lick my lips and his gaze drops to watch my movement. A single butterfly bursts to life in my stomach and maybe if he kissed me tonight, I’d feel it.
Our drinks arrive and I’m jolted back to reality. “Err,” I say, needing a moment to center my thoughts. “I’ll probably just stay in the hotel. Moving into an apartment seems like a lot of effort when I’m only here for a few weeks and I plan to spend most of my time at the office.
I think he looks a little disappointed, but I’m not sure. “You need to remember to eat. I don’t think I saw you move from your computer at all today. Perhaps tomorrow, I could order something in and we could both force ourselves to take a break, together,” he says, as he takes a sip of his drink.
“Are you flirting with me?” I ask, regretting my bluntness the moment the words fall from my mouth.
“A little,” he replies before I get the chance to tell him to ignore me.
I smile as I look at him across the table, and that single lonely butterfly suddenly has a friend.
The meal is delicious and hilarious, especially when a floor show of jugglers and fire eaters all in full costume suddenly burst into the room. The duo of butterflies are jumping around my stomach the entire way from the restaurant back to my hotel and when Dan climbs out after me I’m eager to feel his lips against mine.
I’m not taken off guard this time. I’m waiting for it, wanting it.
“Thank you for another lovely meal,” I say.
“Thank you for joining me,” Dan says, taking a step closer to me.
We lean into each other at the exact same moment, the kiss a mutual meeting. His lips are soft, his tongue sweet and tempered. When he eventually pulls back, his arm still around my back, I keep my eyes closed; not wanting them to open yet, not wanting to acknowledge what just happened.
His lips press against my forehead. “See you tomorrow, Riley,” he whispers and I hear the sound of his footsteps as he turns and climbs back into his car.
When I open my eyes, the driver is closing the door and I exhale a long breath, glad that he doesn’t have to see the look in my eyes or my sadness that the hopeful butterflies in my stomach are both dead.
The rest of the week passes quickly. I meet Rosie for dinner on Wednesday and we make plans for me to get a ride out to Archer’s Creek on Saturday morning.
Dan orders lunch for us every day and asks me to dinner every night. He’s the perfect gentleman, never being ostentatious or pushy. I like him. I like that he’s chilled out and a geek like me. I like that we talked about nothing but computer games and gaming for the entirety of our meal one night. I like that when he wore a pale blue polo shirt to the office one day, I could see the slight definition of the muscles in his arms.
I like that he kisses me before he drops me at my hotel each night. I like that he’s different. I just wished that I liked his kisses as much as I like him. The butterflies build all day and then die a horrible death every night when his lips press against mine and I just don’t understand why.
Dan is perfect for me. I’m attracted to him, but we have absolutely zero chemistry when our bodies connect.
Sighing, I watch his car drive away from the hotel, then slowly turn and plod back to my room. I want to be consumed with lust, to be dragging him to my bed and ripping his clothes off. Instead, I’m sleeping alone and making myself come every night to fantasies of another man.
I’m so glad tomorrow is Saturday. Dan seemed a little annoyed when I told him I had plans this weekend, but I need to get out of the city and have some time away from him.
Pushing open my hotel room door, I quickly strip, pull on pajamas, and crawl beneath the sheets. My body is angry at me. My mind is confused and I’m tired. Working from an office is exhausting and all of my muscles feel tense and tight. I should probably take a bath and try to soak away the tension, but an orgasm will do the job so much quicker and right now I just need to relax and go to sleep.
The morning comes too quickly and when my eyes flutter open it only feels like five minutes since my body finally succumbed to sleep. I wish I could say that my dreams were full of Dan, but they weren’t. No, my dreams, my fantasies that have me panting and needy, are full of cocky smiles, confident winks, and a guy so big and so beautiful he could have fallen from Olympus.
Groaning, I cover my face with my pillow. I don’t like Justin, he’s everything I don’t want in a guy. But fuck he’s pretty, and apparently my subconscious thinks he’s a sexy motherfucker totally worth having wet dreams over.
Dragging myself out of bed, I shower and get ready for a day of BBQ and bikers. Dressed in jean shorts and my #geekchic shirt, I slide on my sneakers and shove some money, my credit card, key, and cell phone into my pockets and head out in search of coffee and breakfast. I never thought I’d admit it, but I’ve kind of gotten used to having Al at my disposal. He picks me up each morning and then we alternate between grabbing coffee and a Danish on the way to the office, or him bringing them for us both.
This morning as I walk out of the hotel and down the street, it feels a little strange to be responsible for getting my own breakfast. I giggle a little to myself and slide my sunglasses over my eyes. The city is bustling with life and I breathe in the smell of hot asphalt, exhaust fumes, and food. It’s a scent I’ll always associate with big cities and even though it’s kind of disgusting, it always makes me smile.
I could pull out my cell and find a coffee shop, but I decide to wander and take in the atmosphere of Houston. I’ve been here for two weeks now, but this is the first time I’ve ventured out on my own. Walking aimlessly, I stumble across a cute little café with metal tables and chairs set out on the sidewalk. There’s only one table free outside, so I slide into the seat and order a latte and a bagel when the server arrives.
My cell beeps, so I pull it from my pocket and glance at the screen. It’s a text from Rosie.
Rosie: Work have dropped an edit
deadline on me for this morning, so is it okay if one of the guys comes to pick you up without me? I’ll be done by the time you get here.
Riley: Of course, hun. If you need to skip the BBQ it’s fine. I can explore the city for the day.
Rosie: NO!!!! I don’t need to skip. I only have a couple more hours work and I’ll be done. One of the guys will come get you and I swear I’ll be finished when you get here. You can explore the city another day. You don’t want to miss the food at this BBQ, it’s going to be AMAZING!!
Laughing lightly, I quickly reply.
Riley: Okay, sweetie, I’ll see you soon xo
Rosie: Awesome, they’ll pick you up at 11. See you soon xo
Checking the time on my phone, I’m pleased to see I still have over an hour until someone is coming to pick me up. I’m assuming when she said one of the guys, she actually means Park, but maybe she doesn’t. I just agreed for a biker to come and collect me from my hotel, potentially someone I’ve never even met, but Rosie thinks of these guys as family so I shouldn’t worry, right?
I finish my coffee and order another and a cherry Danish, then sit in the sun and watch the world go by. People watching is one of my favorite things to do and on a warm sunny morning in a new city, it’s absolutely perfect.
Dragging myself back to the hotel is harder than I expected. The urge to go explore Houston is strong and if I could get out of this BBQ I probably would. My parents live in the suburbs and they have no idea how I tolerate living in New York, with its tall buildings and millions of people. But the truth is that I love the hustle, the fast pace and constant flow of a city. I don’t think I’ll want to live in the chaos forever but living in New York makes me feel like an ant living in a giant’s world and at least for the moment I’m not ready to give that up.
When I get back to the hotel, I sit my ass down on a low wall to the side of the entrance and pull out my cell while I wait for my ride. There’s a new email from my sister Anna and I eagerly click into it.