by Ravenna Tate
“Some of us went through things we can’t talk about.”
And there it was. Confirmation he was right. There was more to her past than a short-lived marriage to a jerk.
“Yes, that is true,” he said, forcing his voice to remain neutral.
“You don’t want to be involved with me. You date women who look good in pictures online, and who don’t mind being photographed with you everywhere you go.”
“Most of the women I date only go out with me because of that reason. Because they know we’ll have our picture taken, and they’ll get their faces and names on the tabloid websites, linked with mine. They go out with me because I’m stinking rich and they think I’ll take care of them for life. They go out with me because they want expensive things. I can count the number who have cared about me—the person inside—on one hand.”
Oliver stopped to gauge her reaction. She looked sympathetic, so he kept going.
“That’s why I’ve wanted to go out with you for two years. You’re not like that. You’re genuine and unaffected. Plus you’re one of the most intelligent women I’ve ever met and I admire that. It attracts me to you, as much as your looks do. More, in fact, because I know I can carry on a conversation with you that has nothing to do with designer clothes or rare gems. I know you won’t be glancing around to find the paparazzi waiting to snap a picture.”
This time, she smiled, and his heart soared. “Not many of them hanging around Dirty Harry’s, I imagine.”
“Nor do I, which is why I enjoyed myself so much tonight.”
“Why would you want to date a woman who can’t even talk about her past?”
“Why should that matter to me? It’s your past. I have no right to demand to know about anything in it. That’s your decision, not mine. If and when you’re ready to talk about it, whether we’re dating or not, I’m here to listen.”
“You make it very hard to say no.”
Once again, he decided not to point out the obvious. Instead he went for humorous. “I’ve been told that before.” He winked at her, hoping like hell that quip didn’t backfire.
When she laughed softly, he placed a hand on each shoulder. “Blair, I really like you a lot. Let’s go out again and see what happens. No expectations. This has been one of the most enjoyable dates I’ve had in a very long time. I mean that.”
She looked at him with skepticism in those dark eyes, but he also saw hope. “It’s the most fun I’ve ever had on any date. Not kidding.”
“Then let’s try it again. You know. Just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke.”
“For research purposes.”
“Exactly. We are engineers, after all. We never leave anything to chance.”
She gazed at him for a long time, and then finally he watched the acquiescence in her eyes, but resisted the urge to pump his fist in the air.
“All right. Let’s go out again. Next Friday.”
He didn’t want to wait a week, but he wasn’t going to turn down the offer. “Thank you. Where would you like to go this time?”
“Promise you won’t laugh?”
“Of course not.”
“Have you been to the Stratford Theater?”
“Never.” He knew of it, though. They were self-funded and put on strictly amateur plays. “But I’d love to go. What’s playing next weekend?”
“‘The Flick’. Do you know it?”
He shook his head.
“A woman named Annie Baker wrote it in the early twenty-first century. It’s a long play, about three hours, but with clever dialogue and interesting characters. It’s a comedy but also has tender and poignant moments. I think you’d enjoy it. It received several awards in its day.”
“It sounds perfect. I’d love to go.”
“Great. Thanks.” She took his hand again as he walked her home, and this time her touch was warm. He didn’t ask to come upstairs although he wanted to in the worst way.
Before she opened the door to the building, she kissed him quickly on the lips, chastely, but her gaze lingered on his face afterward, and he glimpsed what he swore was smoldering lust in those dark eyes. “Good night, Oliver. Thank you again.”
He cupped her face and initiated the kiss this time, stopping short of teasing her lips with his tongue because he knew if she let it inside, he was going upstairs with her. When he released the kiss, the lust in her eyes was unmistakable. He forced the words out of his mouth.
“Thank you, Blair. I had a wonderful time. Sleep well.”
Oliver waited until she was inside the door, then turned and headed for home before he changed his mind and begged her to let him come up to her apartment. He knew there would be no sleep for him tonight. The best part was that he didn’t even mind. Blair was worth the wait. He knew it as certainly as he knew the stars above his head were as fake as the black sky.
Chapter Five
Blair tried to remember the last date she’d had where the guy had not tried to get her into bed, but she couldn’t. Actually, most of her dates hadn’t really been dates at all. They’d been more like encounters where it had soon become clear what the true intentions were. Then again, she hadn’t exactly had luck where men were concerned.
Shit attracts flies, flowers attract bees.
That had been one of her mother’s more annoying sayings. Blair assumed it meant she was the kind of girl who would never attract a decent man, but she couldn’t be sure. Her mother might have been talking about herself, for all Blair knew. She had often gone off on tangents that Blair could barely follow.
Oliver wasn’t like any of the men she’d known, but she had never assumed he would be. She’d followed his dating habits online for seven years, and one thing he’d said tonight was the absolute truth. She was unlike anyone he’d ever gone out with.
She didn’t care about his money or his prestige. Having one or both didn’t make someone a good person, anymore than not having either did. He’d worked his ass off to get where he was today, so he deserved his success and the money his company made him. She’d never begrudge him that, and she wasn’t interested in him because of it.
He and the other Weathermen gave to more charities than she could count. They funded the Storm Troopers, and they were doing more to find the hackers responsible for fucking up The Madeline Project than Homeland Cyber Security was doing, or anyone else for that matter.
After hearing the story of how Oliver had nearly died in that building, she had even more respect and admiration for him. He was brave and strong. That wasn’t a quality she was used to in the men she’d known, either. He was a hard worker, too. He didn’t merely sit in his wood paneled office and dictate to the underlings. He was out among his employees, every day, working just as hard as anyone on his teams.
He cared about this planet and everyone on it. One of the reasons she’d been so interested to hear how he’d met the other Weathermen was because of how hard they all worked to find the hackers. She had no doubt they’d be the ones to stop this, if it was possible to stop it at all.
And now it was even more obvious they weren’t doing it for fame or glory. They were doing it because they cared about every living soul forced to be here, underground. They were doing it because they wanted their planet back. Oliver and the other Weathermen didn’t come across to her as ruthless or ambitious, like the tabloids made them out to be. She saw them as noble and courageous. They were hero-worthy material, not scoundrels.
After washing her face and brushing her teeth, she got into her favorite t-shirt and shorts, then propped herself up against pillows in bed to see if there was a movie to watch on her laptop. She could still feel Oliver’s lips against hers. That second kiss had been so damn erotic. She had nearly parted her lips to let his tongue inside, but he’d pulled away before she made the decision. Next time.
Right. And if you do that, you’ll end up in bed with him.
She closed her laptop and frowned. That much was a given. How could any woman resist him? But sex changed everyt
hing. What if she gave in and then things went sour once he found out about her past? What if he grew bored with her the way he did with all the women he dated, and moved on?
It wasn’t like she’d ever had any decent relationships. She didn’t know how to handle Oliver, but now that she’d kissed him, she wanted him. She wanted him so badly!
She was safer admiring him from afar. Safe in the fantasy world she’d created, where he never tried to force her to do something in bed she didn’t want to do, and where he never hit her or yelled at her, calling her names that left a scar on her soul.
The problem with creating a fantasy world was that it couldn’t keep you warm at night, or fill the aching need for the touch of another human being. She’d let him in too far now to retreat back into the secure little corner of her mind where he’d lived all these years.
She had laughed with him, and touched him, and told him about Donny. She had kissed him, and he had kissed her back. This was real now. She was seeing him again next Friday. Why had she asked to wait an entire week for their next date?
Because you’re a chickenshit.
True. All true. But there was no turning back now. She was in this for the duration, however short that might turn out to be.
Blair brushed her hand over her nipples, imagining Oliver gently sucking and biting them. His lips had been so warm when he’d kissed her. How would that mouth feel on her breasts?
She moaned softly and slid her hand into her shorts, rubbing her swollen clit. Would he make love slowly, savoring every inch of her skin, or would he get her so hot and bothered that he simply took her, rough and tumble?
As she pushed harder against her clit, rubbing now in a familiar rhythm guaranteed to make her come within moments, she closed her eyes and tried to picture Oliver naked, his dick red and dripping with pre-cum, as he teased her with it.
Would they make love next Friday? All she had to do was give him a little encouragement. She’d seen the desire in his eyes tonight. The urge to call him right now was strong. This would be a lot more fun with him here, helping her along.
When she came, she cried out softly and whispered his name, picturing those beautiful eyes staring down at her in a candlelit room. She curled up on her side and drifted off to sleep, a smile on her face as her erotic fantasies turned into dreams.
****
Oliver paced the office in his apartment. His laptop was open on the desk, and he’d glanced at it every few minutes, but no one would call what he’d done for the past hour and a half work. It was more like staring at the screen, not really seeing anything on it. Even that wasn’t quite true. He saw Blair’s face on it.
He could still feel her hand in his. The imprint of that chaste kiss had fueled his desire for her more than the wildest lovemaking he’d ever experienced. Every other woman’s touch paled in comparison to what he’d shared with her this evening. He was smitten. He had been for a while now, but tonight had sealed the deal forever.
From the way her hair gently swayed when she moved, down to the chocolate-colored boots trimmed with gold buckles at the ankles she’d worn, he was totally captivated. He had her phone number. It would be so easy to call right now and make up some excuse to come over. Would she see through it? Yes. No doubt about that. But she might not mind. She might want him to come over.
He sat down at his desk again and recalled their conversation. What was in her past that haunted her? It was more than her short-lived marriage to that complete moron. He sensed it. He debated whether to do some searching. He was still her boss, after all. He had a right to dig into her background.
But the fact that he hadn’t done so before now, or done so on any of the other project leaders, nagged at him. He would be snooping into her life for all the wrong reasons, and that was as much a violation of trust as if he’d turned around and told everyone he knew what she’d confided in him tonight.
No. He couldn’t do it. Whatever it was, she’d have to tell him on her own or he would never find out. That was the only way to earn her trust. It was the right thing to do.
Oliver closed the laptop and made his way upstairs to his bedroom. Every woman he’d dated had unknowingly endured a background check before the second date. Some before the first. A man in his position had to be careful, after all. But that excuse didn’t apply to Blair. He could have dug into her life well before now, any time he’d wanted to.
He tried to sleep, but that was a joke. Between the five-alarm fire in his stomach thanks to the burger and onion rings, and picturing Blair naked in his bed, he might as well stay awake all night and work. If only he could focus.
Rearranging his pillows, he sat against the headboard and clicked around his video system, looking for something that held his interest for longer than five seconds, besides porn. He didn’t want porn. He wanted the real thing. He wanted Blair.
A woman with her coloring was giving a guy with a cock the size of Mount Rushmore a blowjob. Oliver watched, more amused than turned-on, because the woman kept glancing into the camera. Why did they always do that? It ruined the voyeurism aspect of it because each time they did it, the illusion they didn’t know they were being watched was ruined.
Would Blair enjoy giving him a blowjob? A horrible thought occurred to him. He hoped whatever had happened in her past that she couldn’t talk about had nothing to do with a man hurting her during sex, or worse, raping her. Because then he’d have no choice but to hunt down the bastard and kill him.
Two men were on the woman now. One in her mouth and one in her ass. Oliver flipped off the video monitor. Porn was fine once in a while, but he didn’t need it tonight. He only needed to picture Blair’s pretty face, her sweet smile, and that sweater she’d worn. It was the color of a sunset, and it had made her breasts stand out, perky and full. He was surprised she hadn’t noticed him staring during dinner. Then again, maybe she had, and she hadn’t minded?
That did it. The image of her raising her sweater to show off whatever pretty bra she’d worn made his dick hurt. He freed it from his shorts and pulled on it, closing his eyes to picture her removing a bra the same color as those boots. He had no clue what her boobs really looked like, but he pictured them round and full, with dusky nipples.
His imaginary gaze moved lower, over smooth skin and down between her legs, where he pictured a shaved pussy, glistening with juice. Soft moans escaped his lips as he imagined what she would taste like, and how much she’d enjoy being eaten out until she came. He loved eating pussy and watching a woman come. For Blair, he’d do it every day if she liked it enough. Anything to make her happy.
He stroked his cock harder and faster now, almost there, as he pictured himself spreading her legs and plunging his dick into her waiting wetness. Oh, how he hoped she enjoyed sex as much as he did! He desperately wanted to find out.
Oliver was close now. He let go and gave his fantasies free rein, imagining all the decadent things he wanted to try with Blair. He wondered how kinky she would be. He groaned loudly as he reached the tipping point, and then let out a long, loud exhale as he came in his hand.
The fact that he should have grabbed a towel first had entered his consciousness way too late to do anything about it. He didn’t give a shit. Blair’s face floated in his mind, taking away the last of doubt and worry. He couldn’t wait to see her at work on Monday, and attend the play with her on Friday night. If the gods were kind, the fantasy he’d just indulged would become reality that night.
After he cleaned up, he crawled into bed, and let sleep overtake him. Erotic images of him and Blair together chased him down into dreams.
Chapter Six
Blair had no time the following week at work to let doubt or fear creep in where Oliver was concerned. She hadn’t known what to expect at work on Monday, but she hadn’t had to wait that long. Saturday afternoon, she had a delivery that turned out to be flowers, and not just any flowers. The bouquet consisted of wildflowers she hadn’t seen since before moving underground.
&nb
sp; Among them were birdfoot violets, downy lobelia, and hepatica. Where he’d found them, she had no clue. Flowers were very rare these days. They were difficult to grow underground, and as such were ridiculously expensive. And these particular flowers were mostly native to the southeast USA, which told her he’d chosen them specifically.
She had to sit down after she opened the box because she was so overwhelmed that he would do this. No man she’d ever dated had done anything like this. She wasn’t one of those women who had love notes or mementoes of romantic dates saved in a shoebox. She’d never received anything like that.
She had a note now. It had been included with the flowers. She grinned until her face hurt as she read it three times.
The Burger That Seared His Heart. A play by Oliver Fairchild. Written July, 2125. Brought to the stage, never. (Because no one would ever agree to fund this piece of shit.)
Act One
Once upon a time there was a very pretty, very sexy engineer who came to work for a BioSystems company. She was extremely bright, and excelled way beyond anyone else, including the CEO. The CEO fell hard for her, but she had other plans.
Act Two
The totally smitten CEO used his magical super powers to lure her into going out to dinner with him, but she had the final say. They went to a place that served onion rings and burgers from Hades, and he was up all night from heartburn. She, however, was sound asleep in her bed. Probably laughing at the CEO in her dreams.
Act Three
The CEO realized it wasn’t heartburn after all. It was the desire he had for her, melting his heart. So he bought her some flowers and told her he couldn’t wait to see her again.
The End