Then I thought how funny it was that I knew the character on his shirt. We had watched nearly every comic book movie and dozens of sci-fi and fantasy shows in the last five weeks, and the weirdest part was that I liked them. Was he nerdifying me? I asked myself, staring at him. I reflected on how compatible we were, how much give and take we employed. For every comic book movie, we also watched a cheesy romantic comedy. Of course our relationship involved much more than watching movies.
Vince’s voice broke my thoughts. “All right. Yeah, no problem. Okay. All right. Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you next week. Okay, bye.” His bye was barely a word, more a blip than anything. “Hey!” He jumped up. “What are you doing here? You never come here.”
“Surprise!” I said, drawing out the end of the word. “I thought we’d go out to lunch, and I wanted to see where you work. Fancy.”
“Well, I work mostly at the lab,” he said, his smile fading. “There are other people here to run things. If you plan on stopping by more often, you should call, just in case I’m not in.”
I nodded. “So was that your dealer in the jean jacket?” I teased.
His lips hardened. “No. I’ve never had a dealer up here.”
“So who was that guy? Terrance looked like he was about to kick his ass.”
“He’s someone from my past.” Vince’s voice grew dark. “Someone who believes there was a mix-up in our contract. I have a restraining order against him. That’s why Terrance was escorting him out.”
I could tell he wasn’t going to divulge anything more on the topic, not at that moment anyway. “Oh, sounds bad.”
He gave me a shrug.
I leaned in for an embrace, changing the mood in the air. “So what would you like for lunch?”
Vince’s attitude adjusted to match mine. “How about a picnic? There’s a great pita place not far away. How long is your lunch?”
“I can take an extended lunch,” I answered, leaning on his desk. “Why?”
“We could go up to Forest Park.” His eyes were as excited as I’d ever seen them, completely different from a moment ago.
“It looks like you’ve already got something planned?”
“Not planned exactly,” he said. “But I’ve thought about what we could do during a long lunch.” He took my hand and bolted out of his office. “Ashley, I’ll be gone for a while. Cancel any appointments I have until three.” We were gone before she could open her mouth.
“No introduction?” I asked, on the way to the elevator.
“Oh, right. When we get back.” Vince pointed out a private spot labeled for him in the parking garage. Heading to a pod of food carts on Third Avenue, we pulled into the parking lot, ordered what looked like exquisite pitas, and then drove west toward Forest Park.
We ended up on a gravel road, surrounded mostly by forest, with a few houses and driveways along it. The road ended at a trailhead. There was space for a few cars to park on each side, though one side had a steep cliff. Vince chose a spot a few feet from the edge. There were three other cars parked, but no people within sight.
“So why did we come all the way out here?” I asked him, gazing around at the wonderful and dense forest.
He pulled out his leather-bound notepad and flipped to the list. “Number three.”
“Have sex publicly in a car,” I read aloud. I glanced around at all the trees. “I don’t think this counts as public.”
“It’s public enough, I think,” he countered. “I’ve fantasized about this since we made the list. See, there’s still the risk of being seen.” He nodded at a group of four hikers returning to their car. “What do you think?”
I clicked the pen and crossed out the fantasy, seductively licking my lips. He leaned over and stole a kiss. I put the food on the floor while the other car departed, leaving us alone . . . for the moment.
He climbed into the backseat. I followed, reminded of high school and making out in cars . . . it was so long ago, but there I was, doing it again, about to take it one step further. I sat on top of his lap, pushing his chest back. He slid his hands along my thighs, up my back, and to my neck, playing with my hair. At that moment I wished I had worn a skirt to work instead of khakis. Even though I was shorter, my head touched the roof, so I had to keep it bent down, which I didn’t mind since it allowed me to stare into Vince’s intense brown eyes.
He yanked down my undershirt, kissing my breasts. I ran my fingers through his soft, curly hair, mussing it into chaos. Leaning back and, with one arm behind my neck, he pulled me down for a delicate, passionate kiss. Arousal had taken hold by then, and I wanted to tear his clothes off as badly as he did.
Kissing my neck, he traveled from one side to the other, and its titillating effect drove me to slip off my top and undershirt. My heart hammered against my chest, the possibility of being seen adding a thrill to the tight space of the car. I tugged off his jacket, and then he stripped off his shirt in a flash, reaching around for my bra.
Suddenly we were skin to skin.
The back of the Mustang was no SUV, cramped and intimate, and it provided no room to move around. Getting off our pants proved a difficult task. I flopped into the open seat, Vince wrenching at my khakis—but they were so tight, I really needed to stand for them to make it over my ass. Success came after a minute of struggling, and we turned our attention to his slacks. His practically slid right off.
I climbed atop him again, his erection as solid as ever, but he tucked it under my ass, opting to rub my clit. His deft fingers found the bundle of nerves, massaging it in circles. I writhed, my hands clenching around his biceps. My stomach flexed, my hips tensed, and I gasped in his ear.
As his fingers continued their sublime assault, my hips began to sway, mimicking his motion. “You’re so wet when I play with your clit.” He brought his fingers up and showed me just how wet I was. He took each finger into his mouth, slowly sucking each clean.
I couldn’t take the anticipation any longer. “Fuck me. I want to feel you inside me,” I said oh-so softly in his ear. I raised my hips, and his cock, held down by my ass, sprang up, alive and throbbing with hunger for me.
He seized it at the base, whipping me, teasing me. I slid down, the head of his penis entered, and then he rammed upward, filling me, breaking me, stealing my breath with the surprise. I couldn’t believe how far his cock reached. It seemed like it was moving around all the organs in my stomach, making room.
And I thought doggy style went deep. This was a completely different experience. I cried out and he stilled.
“Like that?”
I nodded. “But I’m on top,” I said, taking charge, pushing him back again. I rocked my hips, shoving my breasts in his face. He pressed them together, sucking on a nipple. I cradled his head, picking up speed with my hips, gyrating, losing myself in the feeling.
He sucked in air, throwing back his head. He began panting, screaming, grunting. He returned to my breasts, kissing, sucking, biting.
My clit was rubbing against his pubic bone, and the faster I moved, the stronger the potent sensation got, building, building, building—until it was all I knew.
The intensity of my orgasm peaked, and I could feel my eyelids twitching out of control, as red filled my vision, swarming me. My hips slowed as my mind drifted elsewhere.
Vince’s hands slid from my breasts around to my ass, taking over, pumping wildly, frenetically. I watched as his eyes rolled back in his head. He screamed and screamed, nothing coherent.
He stilled, his grip on my ass ached and burned, squeezing as though afraid I’d slip out during his fierce thrusts.
Our breaths were short and quick, reflecting our happy exhaustion. He opened his eyes and stared into mine. Rising to kiss me, he traced his fingers along my back, sending tingles throughout my body.
“I didn’t know it could go so deep,” I rasped. I touched far above my bellybutton. “It felt like it was hitting up here.” I laughed, tapping the spot.
His hand settled on my thig
hs, smiling. “That was . . . intense,” he breathed. Sweat covered both of us. The windows had fogged up from our steamy heat. It smelled hot and musky.
I smiled as I rolled off him, grabbing my panties. I could feel his semen oozing out. “Do you think anyone saw us?”
“Maybe heard us,” he panted. He stroked his still impressive erection, getting the last drips of semen out, and wiping it on his boxers.
I giggled at the thought of someone hearing us. We dressed, bumping elbows and other body parts. He kissed my breasts before I hooked my bra back on. “I like it with you on top,” he said, zipping up his pants. “I felt so much closer—and how your boobs pressed against me.”
I rubbed his crotch. “It won’t be the last time, I guarantee that.” He kissed me one last time, clambered over the center console, and wiped off the windshield. “Uh.” His voice choked.
“Yeah?” I scrambled over the console and peeked out the window. “Oh.” In the car across from us, two older people were sitting in their car, both of their heads facing us, eyes wide with interest. “How long do you think they’ve been there?”
“Don’t know, but I think we should find another place to have our picnic,” he said, grinning. He powered on his electric motor and swung the car around, saluting the couple with two fingers and a nod. They only stared as we passed. “I hope they enjoyed the show.” He broke out in laughter.
I started laughing too, buckling my seatbelt. “I can’t believe we just possibly had sex in front of people.”
“Random people,” he added. “Besides, what they saw was a beautiful thing.”
“Red-hot, passionate sex?” I asked, going for the obvious.
He drew out a pause, then, shaking his head, he said, “Love.”
VINCE WAS BUSY THE next two days after our park escapade. I hadn’t returned his variation of “I love you” like he hoped—at least it seemed that way, as he was somewhat distant on the phone Wednesday night. I left him alone on Thursday while I contemplated my feelings toward him. Was it love? I had fooled myself into thinking I’d loved others, and after Ryan, it was hard to tell exactly what love really was.
Our bond was something special: there was no doubting that. I’d even call it beautiful. But love? The closeness, the openness, the attraction—was that what love amounted to?
I counted the weeks since the car accident. Nine. It had only been nine weeks since I had first laid eyes on him. Could you fall in love with someone in nine weeks? According to romantic comedies, of course you could, but I didn’t believe that, and I knew no one who did.
Still . . .
Something existed between us that I’d never felt before, something deep inside of me that gave me confidence and pushed me into new realms, and not just sexual ones. Sure, I’d always been confident outside of sex, but now I felt more whole—more complete with Vince in my life. I decided while sitting at my work desk to tell him that. I didn’t have to say “I love you” yet, not if I wasn’t ready . . . if he didn’t understand, then it wasn’t love we shared.
While I dwelled on all this, I rolled the marble back and forth across my desk. My break had been over for ten minutes, yet I couldn’t stop. Listening to the sound eased my nerves.
Suddenly Vince barged into the office. I fell over in my chair, crashing to the floor. Vince ran over and helped me up, yelling my name. “Sorry. The hinges . . . I thought I needed more force.”
“Just greased them,” I said, a little out of it. I examined his disconcerted face. “What’s wrong? What is it?”
He lips really didn’t want to say it. “I—uh—I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll just be direct.”
His words worried me, and an internal alarm went off, bracing for a spontaneous breakup. “Okay?”
“Maci, Bridgett stole something from me.” He paused, waiting for my reaction.
I burst out laughing so hard, I nearly peed my pants. “Bridgett stole something from you? Are you crazy? Bridgett might look a little edgy or whatever with her fishnet stockings, heavy eyeliner, and colorful eye shadow, but she’s smart and respectable, and certainly not a thief. I mean, come on, what reason does she have to steal?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. But two days ago, I started putting together my memorabilia room, you know, the bedroom upstairs with all the boxes in it.” After a nod from me, he continued, “Well, when I came to the box with my basketball cards, I noticed that a binder was missing. More importantly, the binder with a certain Michael Jordan rookie card worth over a hundred thousand. I think that entire binder was worth about three hundred grand.”
“And why do you think it’s Bridgett who stole it?” I folded my arms across my chest, grinding my teeth.
“I don’t think—I know.” He extracted a flash drive from his pocket and plugged it into the USB port on my keyboard. When it loaded, he opened it up, scrolled down the files, and then clicked on one labeled “Parking Lot-3-17-18.” A video began playing: footage of the Envoy’s gated parking lot. Suddenly Bridgett appeared, walking to her car, then stumbled, a little too tipsy. She dropped her purse. A binder flew out of it, and Bridgett scrambled to pick it up, shoving it back into her bag. Vince rewound and paused the footage with a clear shot of the binder. “See?”
I stood there, dumbfounded. “But why would she take it? Business is steadily picking up. She’s not a klepto.”
“As far as you know,” he interjected.
I shot him a nasty look.
“Anyway, I called around, and finally located the Jordan card at a pawn shop down in Tigard,” he said. “Apparently she hocked it for twenty grand. The guy was really surprised when she came in with it, to say the least, and clearly took advantage of her rookie-card ignorance. I had to buy it back for ninety thousand.”
I shook my head. How could this be possible? I knew Bridgett. She was one of my best friends. We owned a business together, for fuck’s sake!
Vince regarded me with a lost look. “So, what do you want me to do?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, my throat dry and abrasive.
“Well, considering she’s one of your close friends, I haven’t called the police, but we need to do something about it.”
I rubbed the back of my neck, ready to pound my face on the desk. “I guess we should confront her.”
As if her ears were burning, Bridgett walked in, her mouth open, and stared at us. “Oh, hey,” she said like she’d just caught us doing it. “Hi, Vince. I didn’t know you were here.”
He nodded at her. “Just stopped by to talk to Maci about a problem.”
“Oh? I hope it’s nothing serious,” she croaked. After clearing her throat, she took a step back. “Well, I should—”
“Wait, hold on,” I cut her off. “Come look at this. Maybe you can help us out.”
“Me?” she squeaked. “How could I help?”
I waved her over. “Just come here and look at this.” Vince stepped aside as she plodded up to my desk. As she crept within range of the screen, I pointed at the image. “What do you make of this?”
Her eyes blew up. She stared at the image in silence. Then, after a minute of awkwardness, she broke down in tears, collapsing into my chair. “I had no choice, Maci. I had to . . . had to do it . . . the business.” It was difficult to make out much between her sobs.
I looked at Vince, nodded at the door, and gestured like I was drinking from a mug. He took the hint to get a cup of coffee and left. I patted her back as she continued to weep. When her tears began to subside, she raised her head and met my gaze. Makeup had run down her face and transformed her into a frightening monster. I handed her a tissue, holding back the laughter that wanted out.
The situation called for more severity. I gave her a hard, interrogative look. I received only silence. “Why’d you do it?” I finally asked, my voice stern.
“For the business,” she mumbled.
“The business?” My face contorted into a glare. “The business is fine.”
&n
bsp; “The business is not fine,” she snapped, but then eased up. “Sorry. Sorry. You keep thinking that business is picking up, but it’s always about the same, and the same means we’re losing money. Lots of money.”
I shook my head. “Business is picking up. I’ve been monitoring the numbers.”
“Face it, Maci, in another two or three months, we’re out of dough—no pun intended.”
I waved off her attempt at cuteness.
“I saw that without an infusion of cash, we’d be shutting our doors, and it’d be over.” She stifled another round of tears, sucking in a deep breath. “Then I saw those cards and knew they’d be worth some money, and it’s not like Vince would miss a few thousand dollars, so I took the binder. I only sold the one card. It was Michael Jordan, so I knew it was worth some money.”
I pulled up one of the visitor’s chairs and sat across from her. “Stealing, Bridgett? We were that desperate? The credit union—”
“—wasn’t going to give us any more money,” she cut in. “As far as I saw it, it was that or go under.”
I rubbed my forehead, a small headache coming on. “I just never pegged you as a thief—and did you really think you wouldn’t be caught?”
“I figured he has a lot of business people over, he gives a lot of tours, and after a while, he’d give up looking for it. Or maybe he’d think he lost it in the move. Stuff like that happens.” She was trembling as she spoke, her voice broken. “Look, I’m sorry, Maci. Really, I am. What do I do to fix this?”
“Well, for one, we have to give the money back.”
She cringed. “Oh, God, Maci. What have I done? I’ve ruined our business and our friendship . . .”
“Every friendship has its bumps,” I said softly, though my anger wanted to tear her apart. “This is our first. Granted, it’s a huge one, but I think we’ll survive. We’ll work something out with Vince, and we’ll get another loan somehow. Don’t worry. It’ll all work out. I’ll handle it. I’ll talk to Vince. I don’t think he’s at all eager to press charges or anything, so you’re in the clear there . . . It’s gonna be a long road trust-wise, but we’ll get through it. We’ll be okay.” I got up and rubbed her back as she buried her face in her hands again. “I think, for now, you should apologize to Vince, then just take the rest of the day off.” My tone conveyed that it wasn’t a suggestion.
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