by Ami Snow
“But you don’t want to move on.”
She looked at him sadly and shook her head. Before she could stop herself, she stood up and began kissing him feverishly. He did not push her away; he only kissed her back with equal intensity. His hands roamed freely over her thick body, even stopping to pinch her stomach. She stepped back from him as soon as he did that.
“What? I like it, it’s sexy. You’re sexy.”
“You can’t be serious.”
He chuckled and walked toward her. He immediately removed her shirt and pushed her onto the couch. He got onto his knees, kissing down her chest and to her stomach. He kissed her stomach all over and groped it at its sides. “I am so serious,” he told her before standing back up and extending his hand. She stood up and they continued kissing as they stumbled to his bedroom. They undressed quickly and were on the bed even faster. He climbed over her and rubbed the tip of his erection up and down her wet entrance. She grabbed his shoulders and he pushed into her. She arched her back and moaned. It seemed they were both suffering from sexual frustration these past couple weeks as they had sex in a frenzied manner and reached climax very quickly. Brandon collapsed on her side and she turned onto her side, wrapping an arm across his waist.
Resting her head on his chest, she asked, “What now?”
“I don’t know,” he said. Worry laced his voice.
“So, you have feelings for me too?”
“Of course I do. I wouldn’t just have sex with you again like that if I didn’t.”
Lana nodded and sat up. “I think we should try being together. We both have feelings and, honestly speaking, I doubt we will be able to be around each other and ignore it. If only one of us had feelings or if it were just sex, it would be different. But, somehow, my feelings are strong. I assume yours are too if this is what is happening.”
Brandon nodded but he did not look convinced. “I don’t really see how that can happen, Lana. Even if we date secretly, what kind of relationship can that be? It will be short-lived. And if someone gets hurt, then we really won’t be able to be around each other.”
“I can talk to my father.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Yes. But that’s not a bad thing.”
It took four months for Lana’s dad to come to terms with the fact Brandon was dating his daughter. In those four months, the two barely talked. Rowan tried to talk sense into her father. She suspected his motives went beyond his duties as a friend. She suspected it was because he was guilty of having sex with her and thought it was important to convince her dad it was okay for her to be dating Brandon. It was a serious thing. He truly respected her and she really cared for him. It was not forced and it was the best relationship she had ever had.
After months of talking, Rowan managed to convince him to make up with Brandon. Things were slightly tense of first, as was to be expected. But they soon fell into place, so long as Lana was not around and there was no talk of their relationship. After five months, her dad began to accept the relationship. After six months, he finally was okay with it. He saw how great it was for the both of them and how much respect there was. Lana had even confessed she mostly dated older men so this was not out of the norm for her. Her dad concluded that, if she was going to be with an older man anyway, it should be one he knew would treat her the way she deserved.
The sex continued to be mind-blowing, even more so than the very first time. Neither of them felt strange around Rowan. They even invited him to a movie night at Lana’s house when her dad was out of town. Rowan did not try to rekindle the lust of that night, did not even let on that he remembered it ever even happened. It was great.
At their one-year mark, Lana expressed her surprise. Not once could she have ever imagined falling for the man she had been around all her life. Not once could she have ever thought it would make it so far. And when Brandon asked her to move in with him, she was beyond surprised. She readily accepted. Her dad had some trouble with it at first but soon came to terms with the idea. He knew he could not stop it from happening so it was best to just get on board with it. He even bought them a nice housewarming gift.
A week after their anniversary, Lana was moved in to Brandon’s house and settled. He told her he had a surprise for the weekend. All she had to do was be dressed and ready by Friday afternoon. He would pack her bags.
They drove off and she had absolutely no idea where they were headed. He had not even allowed her too look in the trunk so she could not see what bags he had prepared. It was not until a couple hours later that they were driving up winding mountain she registered where they were headed.
“Pine creek?”
Brandon just smiled and nodded. He took her to the exact spot they had first been together. “I know it might seem strange given how we were together the first time but that’s when I realized how much I liked you. I was acting pretty strange after that night. Rowan just assumed I felt guilty.”
Lana beamed at him and said, “Actually, that happened to me too.” She leaned in for a kiss, initiating a memorable weekend for the two.
THE END
Great time with My Dad’s Best Friend
TABOO ROMANCE
By: Amanda Bolton
Great Time with My Dad’s Best Friend
“Ladies and gentlemen please fasten your safely belts and put your tray tables in the upright position. We are on the final approach to Perth International Airport.” As the Captain announced these words over the aircrafts intercom the owner of the new Gulfstream G65OER jet excited the cockpit and came and sat in the luxurious armchair next to me. “Won’t be long now Lisa,” said the tall handsome billionaire, “We will book into the hotel and get a meal, the yacht won’t be launched until we get there in the morning. Might as well get a good night’s rest, I want to stay aboard while they do the sea trials. Our skipper should have arrived in Western Australia yesterday so he will have a limousine organized already for us.” Acknowledging his statement I sat back and looked out the window as we crossed the coastline and descended towards Perth City. Joshua Forsythe was the owner of the largest fleet of container ships freighting merchandise out of the developing nations of India and China and criss crossing the planets oceans to deliver to consumers on every point of the compass. I had been his private secretary for the last three years, since obtaining my degree in business finance. Joshua and my Father had been firm friends since primary school, growing up in the same influential neighborhood in Boston. It was a marvelous job, which entailed flying all over the world on an almost daily basis and maintaining Joshua’s herculean schedule. Whenever we were in the states for longer than a week he would make his planes available to me so I could go and visit my parents, and although it was never for any great length of time it was often enough to remain close. My boss was a confirmed bachelor, and lucky for any wife that he was because the man worked like a machine. Every waking second he was either on his mobile to his Captains or shipping managers in almost every port on the globe, or reading data sheets and financial statements. Even now, as I looked through the window at the beautiful Australian city of Perth appearing below us, Joshua was already on the phone to Austral Ship Builders to confirm he was in the country and arrange the launch of his brand new private yacht. When I had asked him why he had this luxurious ship built way out here in Australia he told me that several of his friends had theirs built by Austral and the finish was always perfect, and they worked well with the owners to provide every facet of decadent luxury available. Plus they were Australia’s number one government contractor for their navy. When I nailed him for the real reasons he laughingly claimed that he had told the truth, he had just failed to add than when he placed the tender Austral’s quotation had been several million dollars lower than their American and European counterparts. He then added, with a wry grin, that the additional safety features and downright opulent furnishings they had talked him into purchasing had driven the price a third higher again than their original quote. “Bloody Au
stralians,” he laughed as he used the Great Australian Adjective, “They are just way too smart for this poor backward Boston boy.” I had laughed with him then, I knew full well if he had purchased extras, they would be top of the line and he would have driven a hard bargain himself. Joshua was the shrewdest operator I had ever met, even my father give him a grudging respect saying that, “Joshua could sell a refrigerator to an Eskimo.” My Dad was no slouch in the boardroom either. We were old Bostonian Money; our family had been in international banking for one hundred and fifty years and owned one of the largest chains of investment banks in the country. The screech of tortured rubber and the slightest of bumps jerked me from my reverie as the jet touched down and we rolled toward the private hangers. The hostess opened the door when we stopped and two uniformed men entered and asked for our passports and entry visas. As the formalities were observed, Joshua and I ran over some schedules for the coming month, and altered them to suit his travel plans, after we had finished the sea trials on his new toy. Exciting the plane a man approached and greeted us with a broad scots accent. Joshua was obviously pleased to see him and introduced us, “This is Rory McTavish, Lisa, the skipper of my new boat.” The man was about fifty years old with short dark hair and bush moustache and goatee. “It’s neverrr a boat, you muckee heathen, tis a ship.” Startled to hear anybody call my boss a heathen I immediately looked across at Joshua who roared with laughter. “You are quite correct McTavish, she’s no boat. She’s a bloody great ship. Are ye happy now are ye.” He mimicked Rory’s accent perfectly. “Aye that I am man,” Rory laughed with him. We piled into the comfortable British Daimler limousine and sitting back in the plush leather upholstery the two men started discussing facts and figures pertaining to the new yacht, while I gazed out at the beautiful Australian city of Perth and the Swan river which ran through the middle of it. I had googled the city a few times but the websites definitely had not done it justice. As we cruised along Riverside Drive I was astounded at the size of the river here. Called Perth Waters it must be over half a mile wide and more than a mile between the two main bridges, The Causeway and The Narrows. The car turned off and drove toward the CBD and stopped outside the main doors of the Perth Sheraton Hotel. Scurrying porters and the hotel Concierge opened the doors and escorted us through the foyer to the elevators and up to the penthouse. Helpful and thoughtful they saw us all settled then let themselves out. The men sat around the beautifully carved West Australian Jarrah coffee table, still immersed in their boat lingo, while I ran a deep hot bath and luxuriated in it for an hour. Dressing for dinner in a two piece tailor made business suit, I let my long platinum blonde hair cascade down over my shoulders. I was twenty three years old with the best job in the world and I was extremely well put together, I am not conceited but I know I am a beautiful woman. After I finished my toilette I sauntered out into the lounge and saw both men had also dressed in tuxedos and were obviously just killing time waiting for me. “Rory tells me the casino here has just been refurbished and has some fine restaurants. How do you feel about a meal and a little flutter before we turn in Lisa?” I had worked with the man long enough to recognize a rhetorical question when I heard one, so I smiled and agreed it sounded just fine. Pushing a button on the floor at his feet Joshua summoned the floor manager who escorted us back down to the main entrance where the limo was already waiting. In only minutes we had crossed the Causeway and entered the casino complex. The driver must have radioed ahead because the red carpet was rolled out and a manager opened the door himself and told us he would be remaining with us for the duration of our visit. He even greeted Joshua by name, very professional these Australians. I could see Joshua was impressed also by the way he was engaging the man in conversation about the complex. We were ushered into a beautiful atrium with lush green foliage cascading down the inner walls and clear glass elevators scurrying up and down. In a private dining room adjacent to one of the restaurants the stewards held the backs of our chairs as we sat and a chef gave us some recommendations. Ever the beef man Joshua ordered a twenty two ounce local Aberdeen Angus scotch fillet, and Rory and I opted for the states Lobster. When it was served in garlic butter and a Caesar salad we were both perplexed at what had happened to the claws. My being from Maine I was accustomed to my lobsters arriving with two fat claws out front. Rory asked of one of the table stewards, “Young man, wherrrre have ye everrr put the claws off this weee fish.” Smart enough to work in a private room in an international casino the lad gathered the gist of Rory’s broad Scots brogue and answered, “Originally these were called Crayfish sir, they don’t actually have claws.” Well, when in Rome, we tucked in. I would never repeat this on the other side of that pond called the Pacific Ocean, but it was the best Lobster I had ever eaten. The flesh simply melted in my mouth. I must see if Joshua can fly some home, I had to let my family try this. Old Bostonians, they were never going to believe anything could rival the Maine Lobster unless they tried it for themselves. Replete and sipping a cognac Joshua asked about the casino games and a steward disappeared returning some minutes later with a uniformed girl who said she would answer any questions we might have regarding gambling and she would also remain with us during our stay. “Very hospitable these Orstraylians,” drawled Rory. The girl introduced herself as Wendy and said she was a Casino Guide for the High Rollers, in general conversation, as she drove us along the carpeted corridors in an electric buggy, she mentioned many famous celebrities she had entertained in her career. Then she reeled off some facts and figures about Joshua which had him laughing again. He later informed me they were inaccurate and were from Wikipedia, but just the fact the girl had bothered to swat up on her new client had pleased him. My boss was not a prima donna in any way at all, in fact he was really quite down to earth for a self-made billionaire, but he paid good money and expected good service and was quick to tip if he got it. Having ascertained I was his private secretary Wendy asked me the mundane questions about how Joshua would buy his chips, with cash or on credit. I had about twenty thousand Australian Dollars in my purse which I had obtained from a bank in Britain before we left yesterday, but I knew that if Joshua felt in the mood he could gamble in the six figures. I gave her a platinum card on my Fathers bank which had unlimited credit and suggested she run a check on it to prove its authenticity and be prepared to advance him whatever he requested immediately. Obviously no stranger to these procedures, the guide tapped the card number into a device on her belt and in seconds agreed to fund any amount asked for. Joshua asked if the guide could take us through the main casino before we hit the High Roller’s room, a little surprised the girl agreed and we wandered casually through the crowded tables of Blackjack, Poker, Roulette and a myriad other gambling games. Stopping at a round enclosure in the middle of the casino he asked what the game was the punters were playing. “That is an Australian game called two-up Sir,” she replied. “The spinner has a wooden shoot in his hand and on it is two pennies; he throws them high in the air, spinning the shoot as he does so, you can bet on how they will fall, two heads or two tails.” Opening his wallet Joshua removes a wad of green one hundred dollar notes and moves over to the enclosure. Watching for a moment, he then places two hundred on heads. “Heads,” roared the croupier and doubled his money. Grinning Joshua leaves it there and again a moment later, “Heads.” He leaves the bet on heads, and the money on the table, and five times the call is heads. Picking up his winnings he says to the guide, “Now let’s go and play for real Wendy, lead the way girl,” Obviously relieved to be leaving the noisy main floor of the casino, she almost galloped us across to a private elevator and using a pass key selected the High Rollers floor. “How do you want to play Sir?” Asked Wendy, “Would you like to play only against our croupiers or with other patrons?” In an expansive mood he chose to play with others and was escorted to some leather armchairs surrounding a selection of tables. Joshua chose a game of Texas Hold-em and for the next hour steadily increased his chips. There was an Englishman and three C
hinese and another American playing at the table, sitting back with a glass of Kentucky Bourbon Joshua continued his run of luck. Offering Rory and I the opportunity to play anything we liked, we both elected to stay and watch these tycoons combat each other and enjoy the table dynamics when a player won or lost. Joshua was pleased, and as the bourbon flowed the stakes rose accordingly. I had learned over the years that Joshua had some little idiosyncrasies barely noticeable unless you knew what to look for. When he was sure of a decision he would always lean to his right side and cup his chin with his right hand. When he was unsure he would sit straight up or even lean forward slightly. His facial expression never changed at all, he really did have what some punters would call a ‘poker face’. He had mentioned to me many times that he did not believe in luck, that people made their own ‘luck’ by their attitudes and mind set. Watching him playing tonight made me believe he was right. Every move he made was confidant and unhesitating, even when it was obvious at the end of a hand he could not have been sure of the result. Not one to stack chips ostentatiously it was difficult to judge the amount he had won but I was guessing it must be in excess of three hundred thousand dollars at this stage. The Chinese were the biggest losers, the American was down, but not so drastically, and the Englishman seemed to be holding his own. One of the Orientals requested a brief break and the table agreed. We three wandered over to a café bar and Rory and I ordered a café late and Joshua had another bourbon. When the patrons resumed their seats the man who had requested the break had a stack of chips in front of him larger than Joshua’s. Anticipating some enthusiastic play Rory and I sat either side of Joshua quietly. The betting was heavy, after winning a few hands the Chinese with the stack of chips increased the blind dramatically. The players all matched it and the flop was revealed. Joshua was holding the jack and queen of diamonds and the flop revealed a diamond ace and a pair of tens, a club and spade. The Chinaman looked over at Joshua and pushed half of his stack onto the table. “The bet is two hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” intoned the croupier. His two fellow countrymen folded, leaving the Englishman, the American and Joshua to match the large sum. The forth card was turned over by the croupier, another ten, of diamonds. Not so inscrutable now, the Chinaman pushed the remainder of his stack onto the table, “The bet is three hundred thousand dollars,” The Englishman folded leaving just Joshua and his countryman still in the game. The final card revealed the king of diamonds. “My bet is one million dollars,” the Chinaman squeaked in an excited almost feminine voice. “I call and raise four million,” said the American. “The bet is five million to you sir,” the croupier addressed Joshua. “I call and raise another five million dollars,” said Joshua quietly. Turning to the Chinese player the croupier told him, “That is nine million to you Sir.” Almost jumping out of his seat he answered in his high voice, “Call.” Simultaneously he triumphantly flipped over his cards, the king of hearts and the king of clubs. He had a full house, kings over tens. The American sat watching Joshua as he revealed his own cards, also a full house. He turned over the ace of spades and the ace of hearts. Not saying a word Joshua slowly flipped first the jack f diamonds and then his queen. “Royal flush, ten to the ace of diamonds. You are the winner Sir, congratulations,” said the croupier in an even steady voice.” Muttering in Mandarin the three Orientals abruptly left the table. “Excellent hand Mr. Forsythe,” said the American. Startled Joshua rejoined, “You have the advantage of me Sir,” Holding out a hand his countryman explained, “My name is Douglas Voight Sir, we are competitors.” Joshua reached out his own hand, “Yes of course Mr. Voight, you own a fleet of coastal freighters based in Singapore. You have beaten me on a few contracts out of India in the last six months, pleased to meet you.” Standing, the Englishman also offered his congratulations in a cultured and very British accent, and left the two Americans to chat. Discovering that Douglas was finished his business in Perth, Joshua invited him to accompany them to see the yacht launched the next day and said jokingly as he was leaving, “You should take a turn at the wheel of the launch Douglas, you just paid for it.” Turning to Wendy he said, “I know tipping is frowned upon here Wendy, but if you will give Lisa some details I would like to gift you one thousand shares in my company.” Then he turned and left the room, the stunned girl stammered her full name and address into Lisa’s cell phone recorder and managed a garbled goodbye as the laughing Rory and Lisa followed their philanthropic boss to the car.