Moore

by Jessika Klide

  This time of year the Dogwood trees and Azalea bushes are in full bloom and I blow on my coffee then take a long sip, enjoying the view. It is magnificent.

  Magnificent.... That look on his face was beastly magnificence. Moore is obviously as attracted to me as I am to him … which is pretty damn attracted. Damn, that dark look on his face. That expression! Wow! I was so turned on! My pussy tightens at the memory of it. I wonder what day he wants to have wine. Not that it matters, I'm free anytime. I'll need to think of something super sexy to do with it. I could do a handstand, pick it up off the table with my legs and walk it to him. Or I could cup his wine glass in my ass, or even better, my tits, then pour it into his open mouth. Or, I could push my tits together making a cleavage vessel and he could drink from them. Or, I could pour it down his body and lick it off him. I take a deep breath and sigh. I've waited so long to meet someone. I'm ready for some fucking fireworks! I take another long sip of coffee. And when he said I'm more than he dreamed of, my knees got weak.

  I walk to the side rail of the balcony and stare at the jogging trail without seeing it. I wonder if he meant he had actually dreamt of me, or if he meant I was more than the ideal girl he dreams about.

  Fuck, Siri! What difference does it make? They were beautiful words.

  Yeah they were. What can I do today to make sure I see him before he leaves to fly tonight?

  My eyes suddenly see the runners jogging off the trail. That's easy. I'll run after work. Perfect! I need to blow off some steam. I don’t need to be so horny I lose control.

  Now, which trail?

  Oh, Holy Hades, there he is. Damn, he is beautiful.

  The sun is glistening off his golden halo and the sweat on his body. He is wearing only a pair of red running shorts. His pecs are bouncing gently with each jog. When he hits the sidewalk, he walks around for his cool down.

  WOW! The dramatic distance between his broad shoulders and his small waist can be seen even this far away. He looks like a body builder! I wonder if he competes. I take a sip of coffee and gawk at the Golden God.

  He glances up to my balcony and seeing me, throws his hand up. I freeze feeling like I caught doing something wrong, then let go of the grip that seized my mug and wave back, but now he isn't looking at me. A couple of girls jogging by have stopped to chat him up. I see them pointing out the laundry mat and the club house.

  They are obviously making sure he knows where to find them.

  He excuses himself, walks a couple of steps then looks up to the balcony at me again. I wave again and this time he sees me. He waves back, then continues to the building. The girls, who watched his ass as he walked off, look up to see me too.

  That's right, bitches. He’s got his eyes on me. I smile down on them, turn and go back inside.

  I think about opening my door so I can see him when he gets off the elevator, but I think better about it. That would only lead to Moore immediately, and this needs to play out longer. If there is one thing I know about sex, it’s that anticipation is a very important element, I could argue a crucial element, to the final satisfaction of the people involved. It’s not something you rush and it’s different for everyone. Timing is everything. And based on his resistance to touch me last night, he’s not ready and I know I’m not. I need to be absofuckinglutely sure that he is worthy.

  Go get a cold shower and get to work. You can dream about him all day and 'bump' into him tonight.

  This day at work is a repeat of yesterday. I find out that Charlie and TD will be back tomorrow so I have plenty of time to think about Moore, the golden man in 9G. My doodles on my notepad again turn into hearts and halo’s. I replay the night before from the beginning to make sure I understand as much as I can.

  What is it about his looks that is such a turn on?

  He's just too damn cute! I laugh at loud at myself. His eyes and hair when he opened the door! The way his flight suit laid on top of his ass leaving nothing to my imagination.

  Yeah. I’ve seen way too many asses not to know that's a perfect fucking muscle.

  Exactly!

  That dark expression, then the frightening one. Umm hmm!

  I'd love to know what is going through his mind when that look is on his face! I smirk to myself.

  Maybe I'll find out!

  And the conversation we had when we were walking down the hallway. His comments about me being an interesting find, honesty being refreshing and me being more than he dreamed of, are at the top of the best comments ever list.

  Not your typical guy compliments for sure. This dude is unique.

  The day passes without anything eventful happening and leaves me daydreaming about what the weekend will bring.

  I do take the time to write the suggestion about the assigned parking spots for the apartment building and I add a special request since it was my idea, that I be given my usual spot and Moore be given the one next to me, knowing Mrs. Smith will arrange it for me.

  Chapter Twelve

  When 4 o'clock comes, I'm gone. Skillfully maneuvering my car into the parking spot next to his Raptor, I drop the suggestion in the suggestion box outside the office door and hurry to my apartment. I get a water from the refrigerator to hydrate as I change into my running clothes. I'm wearing a pale yellow, low cut sports bra that keeps everything from bouncing. The extreme compression accentuates my deep cleavage, and short, black jogging shorts. My tight abs and firm thighs will be on full display too.

  Walking to the elevator, I keep my eyes fixed on 9G. If he came out now, it would be even better, but he doesn't. No one is in the elevator and no one stops it so I have a quiet ride down. Once outside, I stretch on the sidewalk, then hit the trail starting slow, warming up then burning the pace. Sprinting to the finish, breathing hard, with a good sweat running down my back. I finish and cool down exactly as planned. I'm pacing up and down the area outside the lobby, watching for the elevator doors to open. When they do and I see Moore emerge, I casually enter the lobby.

  Our eyes lock immediately and I know he was looking for me. My tummy lurches hard, doing the familiar back flip as we walk to each other.

  He looks good! But he's not in his flight suit.

  He is wearing a plain, white t-shirt that lies softly on those muscular pecs with his name stenciled across the front, with a pair of light weight, navy blue, soft shorts and white converse tennis shoes. The white color makes his dark skin look healthy and radiant, matching his smile, which he freely gives me.

  Will I ever get used to the shock of how fucking hot he is? I hope not!

  Watching him walk to me makes me tingle.

  There is something special about the way he carries himself. I can't quite put my finger on it. Perfect posture. Obviously an athlete. He's confident, but not cocky. There's something else about the way he carries himself that makes him stand apart from the other guys. He glides gracefully and smooth, but it's not like a cat. There is an air of something else.

  I'm momentarily at a loss for words.

  As he draws closer, his smile is now the same relaxed smile he gave me the first time I laid eyes on him. That smile sends the words to my lips as a vision of what he must look like without a shirt and without shorts floats by my mind’s eye.

  I whisper to myself. "Like a God! He walks like a God." I laugh, first impressions are usually right. He is a Golden God!

  "Hi." He says when he draws even, stopping to talk.

  "Hi. Looks like you are heading out."

  "That's affirmative." His phone goes off. "I have a friendly game of basketball with the bros on post." He hits ignore. "I've gotta run." But he doesn't move. His eyes travel up and down my body. "Looks like you had a good run. You look hot."

  That feels more like a compliment than a statement. My tingling gets stronger.

  "Yep."

  "You are in great shape." His eyes run up and down me again, making me get even hotter. "And I bet you have great stamina being both a dancer and an exercise freak." His eyes crinkle.r />
  "Yep." I smile. "I run at a pretty good clip for a girl too." I punch his arm playfully. His muscles are firm and thick, and my hand bounces off the hardness. "I bet you couldn't run off and leave me." I tease him.

  His face immediately gets serious. His eyes take and hold mine.

  For a split second I wonder what I said to upset him, then I’m marveling at the fact that my mouth just watered with that look. I’m getting mixed signals from him. Are you upset or seducing me?

  His voice is serious when he says, shaking his head. "I would never run off and leave you."

  Are you talking about running now or something more? Every fiber of my being is tuned in to what he is communicating with his look, his words and his body language.

  "If you decide to … run ... with me, I promise to hang around." His face looks so sincere. Oh man, that's definitely more. Your eyes are touching my heart. You are a complex man, Mr. Moore.

  Two guys with military haircuts, dressed like him, come in.

  He gives me a sheepish smile. "My basketball bros."

  I laugh. "Obviously."

  "Moore. Bro! Come on." One of them calls to him.

  Moore waves them off. "Would you like to come watch?"

  "Oh, hell no! No bitches allowed. It's the only night I can get away from mine. Excuse me, ma'am. Nothing personal."

  "It's all good. I can't tonight anyway." As I turn to walk away, Moore reaches out, stopping me. My skin sings from his touch.

  The married bro hangs his head. "Shit. She wins. We might as well go wait in the car."

  The other one calls over his shoulder as he is led out by the married dude. "Just because you resigned, doesn't mean you aren't obligated anymore! The team still needs you!"

  I laugh at them. Moore strokes my arm with his thumb and goosebumps pop out. I look back at him. His eyes are asking me to come, but I tell him. "I'll take a raincheck."

  "That's two, right? The first one is the bottle of wine and now this one."

  "Yeah. Two." I grin at him, knowing he wants to be with me as much as I want to be with him.

  He grins back, lets my arm go and stands there watching me walk to the elevator.

  As I reach out to hit the up button, I hear him.

  "Hey Wright."

  I turn back to look at him, grinning. "Yes Moore?"

  "That's an awesome ride you drive."

  My eyes twinkle and I tease him. "I'll take you for a wild ride sometime."

  "I bet you will … Wild Thang."

  That makes me laugh out loud. He is fucking funny too. "Your ride is pretty spectacular as well."

  The elevator doors open and I back in, glance down and hit #9. When I look back up, his eyes grab and hold mine, and he tells me. "I'll give you the ride of your life."

  Oh baby! The world shrinks to his piercing eyes as the doors close. In the shrinking span, I commit to him. "I’m going to hold you to that."

  His big beautiful smile is the last thing I see. "Ciao." He gives me a head nod.

  "See ya!"

  Chapter Thirteen

  The doors close and happiness explodes within me. I lean on the back wall rolling my eyes, and holding my heart. "This is crazy! I've got to text Cat and tell her everything."

  In my apartment, I head first for the shower. While the water washes away my sweat, I sing "Halo" with Angie Miller at the top of my lungs, sticking my head in and out of the water.

  I know I built walls, but they tumbled down, that instant I saw his halo. Did I find an angel? No, I found a God. A Golden God! I feel so alive! My heart has awakened. I know he is a risk, but I think he’s worth it. He is perfect! Everything I ever said I wanted in a man. I see on his face, he feels it too! We have something special between us.

  That first piercing moment, was like a ray of sun in the darkness. No, like a lightning bolt in a storm! No! Not a lightning bolt! Like a thunder clap! Yes! Like thunder! Oh, his darkness rolls like thunder and it’s frightening and exciting all rolled into one.

  I can't believe this is happening, but it just feels … right!

  I look up to the heavens as I turn the water off. "I don't want this feeling or this man to ever fade away. Let's be clear on that."

  Putting the towel around me, I pat myself down, step out, then hang it over the towel rack on the wall to dry. When I turn around, I see myself in my full-length mirror behind the door. Standing naked, I examine my body for the one millionth time. It's a necessary part of being a dancer and performer.

  I hear Cat's voice as she tells us. "Your body is your money maker. You have to examine it regularly." She tells all her new recruits during training. "Cash in on it while you are in your prime. There will be time later for using your brains to make money. Work your God given assets. Be fruitful! We are Eve's children. Go out and act like her! Seduce!"

  The Eve reference always makes me laugh being from the Deep South, but it also gets me pumped and ready for action too.

  I stare at my reflection. I'm petite, and while that's unacceptable in most modeling circles, it is perfect for the entertainment role I have. Cat told me. "It's easy to make yourself appear taller or heavier, but it's next to impossible to make yourself appear shorter and thinner. We can make you anyone you want to be with the right makeup, wig and props, but you have to make everyone believe it."

  I stretch my arms over my head and give my breasts my monthly self-examination. Breast cancer awareness is a cause I’m very involved in.

  When I finished, I cup my DD's and jiggle them. I see my grandmothers face when she saw me the summer my tits popped out. Disappointment. Well dear, you can strike ballerina off your list of dance careers.

  I asked Cat during my training. "But what about my big boobs? How do you make them appear smaller?"

  "Don't be silly! Everyone wants beautiful tits like yours. They stay real."

  I tell my reflection in her voice. "The natural movement is something money can't buy and always, always draws the attention of a man's eye."

  I flex my tummy. It's tight and flat, but not ripped.

  I hear her again. "Men don't want to see a hard, lean body builder on a pole. They want to see a curvy dancer. They like stacked and packed!" She always grabs my tits if I’m in the room, shoves them up at stacked, spins me around and swats my ass at packed. "Now this is what we call a 'booty-ful' ass." She tells them and everyone laughs.

  I flex my biceps and kiss my guns. When you’re sweating on the pole or about to drop from exhaustion after a long dance practice, she reminds us all that, "Strong is sexy!"

  I love tattoos, but luckily didn’t have any when I was discovered. Now I wouldn’t dream of blemishing my skin, but I have to remain anonymous. I do, however, indulge that desire in my own unique way. When I had my pubic hair removed by laser, I decided to leave a small patch of hair shaped like a heart. Hunching my hips, I apply a blue hair mascara.

  Turning to exit, I blow myself a kiss. I like my looks. I don't think I would change anything.

  Walking into my bedroom, I pick up my iPhone, plop on my bed and text Cat. *Hey, Lady. Met a guy. A fucking fine feast! Can't breathe around him.* I hit send and wait.

  She doesn't respond immediately so I roll on my back, stretch my arms over my head and wait. She is probably at the bar checking the liqueur levels about now. Then she'll do a quick head count backstage to see which dancers are there warming up. She'll check her text in-between to see if anyone is calling in sick. I sigh. I miss that lifestyle but it's been good to get away and really rest. I feel rejuvenated. Fresh. As my granddaddy would have said, 'Rip roaring, ready to go!'

  I envision Cat walking in the dressing room with her dominatrix outfit on, leaving no doubt to anyone who is in control. She has taught me everything I know. Cat may be my teacher, my personal trainer, my mentor, and my manager, but most of all, she is my best friend. At somewhere between 35 and 45, she is still one hell of a beautiful woman, one hell of an erotic dancer, and one hell of a pole dancer. No one knows for sure
what her age is, but every new recruit asks and then tries to guess. Especially after she dismounts the stripper pole in a demonstration of what she is looking for, or what she expects from them. When the inevitable question is asked, she tells them she is 21, then she explains. "I set fire to my birth certificate in a satanic ritual on my 21st birthday. I will never age." The smart girls always guess 21 after that. I did.

  My iPhone rings. "Brick House" by the Commodores plays. It's Cat. *Hey baby girl! You've met a man?*

  *OMG! Yes! He is absolutely gorgeous! I'm so excited*

  *That's dope! How?*

  *He moved into my apartment building.*

  *Sweet! And convenient! :-) What does he do?*

  *Army Aviator. A helicopter pilot.*

  *Cool! Have you hooked up yet?*

  *No. I don't even know his first name but his last name is Moore.*

  *I can tell you want Moore. ;D*

  *Oh yeah! I'm dreaming of more with Moore.*

  *Hey I have to run. Call me with details.*

  *Ok. I miss you! Give the girls my love and Bart too.*

  *I will. Laters.* And she's gone.

  I should really try to snap a pic of Moore to send to her. Maybe this weekend over wine. No, before wine, when we still have our clothes on. I smile at the naughty thoughts of how we will drink the merlot. I better get off this bed before I satisfy myself. I want to be ready for his fireworks!

  Chapter Fourteen

  Walking to the living room, I mount the pole and give myself a good physical workout. The rest of the night I spend working on the moves to the "Happy" video and taking notes. I leave my doors open on the balcony so I can listen for Moore's truck, but he doesn't come home before I go to bed.