Long Time Coming

by Scarlett Parrish

  "I’d have to..." His hand came to rest on my waist, lifted away, then touched me again, as if uncertain of whether to travel up or down. "I’d have to be really quick."

  "Not like you at all." I smirked. Paused, before saying more seriously, "You can’t seriously be thinking of..."

  "Piper. I’m always thinking of that. Especially with you."

  I wished I’d kept my hands in front of me. When he stood so close I had no room to maneuver. Pinned against the wall by his presence as I was, it would be a struggle to stop him doing whatever it was he was about to do.

  His hand bunched up the fabric of my dress in the breath of space between us, then went for the slip of cotton separating his hand from my clit.

  "Leo."

  "What?" His breath on my forehead ruffled that strand of hair come loose from my ponytail and his lips, though not touching my skin, made me shiver.

  "You can’t..." Gulp. "Not here."

  "Can’t what?" His lips moved against my skin, not pursing to kiss me, just forming the words he spoke and happening to make contact now and again.

  This acceptance of my skin against his mouth as if I had a right to be there sent a shiver up my spine. I fell into him so easily, he couldn’t possibly feel the same. What were the chances of two people timing their union so well that they both—

  "You don’t know what I’m going to do yet." He worked one finger behind the sliver of cotton.

  "I’ve got a fair id— oh."

  His laughter as I reacted to his finger stroking my clit warmed my face. "That’s what I was going to do."

  "Leo. You can’t."

  "I just did."

  "Not here."

  "I just did."

  "Leo. No, you—"

  He jerked his hand further underneath me, slid one finger inside sharply, making me gasp, half in surprise, half in a mild sort of pain.

  And out. But slowly. Increasing my fear of discovery. Taking his time and knowing exactly how he was making me feel.

  "Are you worried?" he murmured, his voice almost a groan. As if he got more pleasure from this than I did.

  "Yes I’m worried. Someone could come—"

  "That’s kinda what I’m aiming for." He kissed the side of my mouth, his ragged breath distorting his words. "You don’t know how many times I’ve made myself come thinking about making you come this way."

  "Leo. Stop it."

  "Make me."

  I tried to wriggle away. Couldn’t.

  "I like to do things I shouldn’t, in places I shouldn’t be doing them." He circled the tip of his finger and despite my fear of someone walking in–-or rather out—on us, my body betrayed me by pushing back.

  My breathing grew shallower as I swallowed back my concern, arousal, fear. It took all my strength to maintain the self-control needed to utter two simple words. "Leo. Don’t."

  His fingertip stopped circling and when he slid it out of me I gasped louder than I had when he had first touched me.

  "If you insist," he murmured, his voice husky. But instead of moving away or helping me straighten my clothing, he lifted his finger to his mouth, ran the tip along his bottom lip and finally sucked it between his teeth and watched as I watched him. "God, I wish we had more time."

  "I...yes." It hurt to breathe. It hurt to speak. It hurt to have him standing so close to me and yet somehow, so far away. If I push him, I can’t accuse him of leaving. "Leo, I need to get back to work."

  "Yes." He took one step back and I had breathing space.

  Breathing space I didn’t want. But I took the opportunity to pull the skirt of my dress down, smooth the hem, attempt to make myself look respectable. As if I hadn’t just had his finger inside me. Outside my place of work. Mere steps away from a main road.

  "Shit." The enormity of what he’d done—what he’d almost done—hit me. "You’d better go."

  "I will." He frowned for a moment, then his features cleared into a mask of respectability. "I have work to do."

  "So do I."

  "Fine."

  "Fine."

  "Send me that text, then. About the computer."

  "Right. I will."

  "Tonight."

  "Yeah." I gulped back the lump in my throat, blinked back tears. Didn’t look at him. Piper, you fool. You don’t want him to go but you’re telling him to leave? Where is the logic in this behavior? "Bye then."

  I expected him to reply in kind, be terribly, terribly polite about this state of affairs, but no.

  He jerked forward, grabbed my elbow and planted a kiss on my lips, crushing them like a branding iron.

  Said nothing.

  And turned to leave.

  Habit reminded me to key the security code into the number panel by the diner’s back door but my fingers shook so much I needed a few seconds to steel myself. No doubt I’d receive a hearty rollicking for taking so long on my break and disappearing off the premises but that wasn’t my primary concern.

  My primary concern was the realization that, despite all the words exchanged, Leo hadn’t gotten around to telling me why he’d called in to the diner in the first place.

  Twenty

  The bell above the door jangled when I stepped into the shop, unnerved. The place was quiet; no background music greeted me, no movie played on the huge wall-mounted screen which Leo had informed me was sometimes used as a computer monitor and there were no other customers present. Straight ahead sat a glass fronted counter below which were shelved external hard drives and other peripherals. Behind that were hundreds of ink cartridges hanging on the wall on hooks, along with wires, cables, USB hubs, extension wires, phone jacks, all manner of computer gadgets. To my right was a computer desk, littered with pens, pencils, mouses (mice?), thumb drives, sweet papers and scrap bits of paper.

  To my left was the ‘workshop’—a bench ran around two walls, one of which supported the at least fifty inch LCD monitor/television. At the back of the room were shelves on which sat monitors, processing units, keyboards, printers and scanners.

  There was an overwhelming air of masculinity in the shop, akin to garages and certain pubs. As if women had no right to be there.

  And me? I knew little of computers so wouldn’t be able to tell if I was being ripped off or not. I just wanted my laptop back and I’d been promised it would be ready by now.

  The sound of footsteps reached me from the corridor at the back of the shop and I wondered if it was Darren, one of the two men I’d met when I’d dropped my laptop off.

  "Ah." He—not Darren—smiled when he saw me, in a way that only showed his front teeth, as if the smile was either forced and he couldn’t bring himself to reveal his full set or he longed to grin widely and this was his way of restraining himself.

  It didn’t make him look restrained. It made him look secretive. "Piper, isn’t it?" His gaze flickered down over my dress and I fought the urge to pull my coat tighter, mentally kicked myself for not buttoning the three-quarter-length trench-coat and tying the belt.

  I said nothing out of confusion over what to say and hoped he’d take this as a ‘don’t mess with me’ silence.

  It seemed Richard’s brain had gone A.W.O.L. and he continued to stare, occasionally wringing his hands.

  When I’d brought my computer in a few days before, his workmate had been present so I’d thought I’d been imagining the purpose behind the looks he’d shot my way and we hadn’t been alone together, so it was fine. Maybe, I’d reasoned, he’s just curious about this woman his business associate, Leo, has mentioned. Maybe that explains the searching looks and lingering glances.

  "What can I do for you?" He swaggered over and I nearly laughed. I hadn’t thought people really did swagger in real life, but he walked like he owned the place, which, sadly, he did, according to my informant Mister Carson.

  Resisting the urge to back off, I said, "My computer?"

  "Yes?"

  Groan. "Have you fixed it?"

  "Um..."

  Inwardly I groane
d again. "You said it would be ready this morning."

  "Yours is the...Koehler-Knight laptop? The one-sixty gig?"

  "Yes..." I drew the word out to as many syllables as possible.

  "Um, let me go check."

  Oh for goodness’ sake. I rolled my eyes, swallowed back any complaints and waited as he turned, scanned the benches for my computer. When I’d brought the damn thing in and spoken to Darren, Richard had stepped in and volunteered to ‘see to me’, sniggering quietly. "Leo called, he told me you’d be coming in," he’d said. I’d wondered then, as now, exactly what Leo had told him about me to make him look at me like that.

  "So...you’re a Koehler-Knight fan?" He opened it up, lifting the screen with both hands reverently. "Most women are a fan of the Taylor nights."

  A random synapse of confusion fired in my brain and all I could think at first was "Huh?" before remembering Richard’s surname was Taylor. Another connection fired and I told myself, No, he didn’t really say that. Or if he did, he didn’t mean it the way it sounded.

  He glanced over his shoulder and winked, reading the confusion which must have shown on my face as encouragement. "Come on." He beckoned with a tilt of his head, not a strand of his close cropped dark hair moving. His face, though far from unattractive, was somehow bland, and this nothingness made him all the more unsettling. I couldn’t read anything in his eyes. He studied me too hard to let me in, to reveal anything of himself. "I’ll just boot it up and check it for you, then we’re all set."

  We, nothing. Automatically I took a step forward, caught the glance he shot at my foot and froze. Wanted to take a step back again, but knew that would look as if I was scared of him. "I don’t have much time. I’m on my lunch break."

  "Yeah, Leo said you worked in a diner somewhere. That dress doesn’t look like the sort of thing most women would get away with wearing during the day unless..."

  "It’s a uniform." Don’t engage him in conversation, Piper. Don’t. Engage.

  "Hot one, if you ask me."

  "I didn’t."

  Another glance over his shoulder and his eyes widened. "What?" Feigning innocence, no doubt.

  "Is this really necessary? You must know if you’ve fixed the laptop or not."

  "Last minute check," he shot back. "We don’t want you paying for it and then coming back saying it’s not working properly. The customer has to be one hundred per cent satisfied."

  My stomach roiled every time he looked at me, with that secretive smile on his lips, the lips he licked as he looked at my chest, and there was something avaricious in this gesture. Leo could do it and it’d look teasing, flirtatious and not at all threatening. Richard did it and I felt like a fly caught in a spider’s web.

  All my senses leapt to high alert, hyperaware of the quiet; the only thing I heard was the tinkle of my own computer booting up and a clock ticking somewhere.

  What’s wrong with this picture? I shot looks at the clock, Richard’s shoulders as he tapped at my computer, even the immaculate short pile carpet beneath my feet. The sheen of the glass counter top on which sat the till and a credit card machine.

  "I’m just gonna use the WiFi to hook you up to the internet, make sure everything’s working properly," Richard said, and his voice made me jump.

  "Fine, fine, just don’t take long. I don’t have all day," I muttered, only half-listening.

  A quiet laugh and he turned back to the computer. "I managed to save all your documents and photos."

  Something didn’t fit. My brain contained all sorts of information but didn’t make the connection. The fact we were alone, everything was quiet, he’d just said he’d—

  Oh God.

  Oh fuck no.

  My blood ran cold. I’d never thought it was possible for that to happen; I’d always believed it was a cliché, but if ever my spine turned to a two foot long icicle it did then.

  The inflection in the last word photos.

  Memories flooded back like my brain’s hard drive had been cleared of a virus and all information was now freely readable.

  "Yep. All your data is safe. Right down to the last snapshot." His voice, no longer playful, was a chilling monotone as I thought of the photos liable to arouse interest in someone who happened to see them.

  "So!" he said, raising his voice sharply, making me jump. "How long you been seeing Leo?"

  Confused at this sudden change of subject although reasoning this was part of his game to keep me on my toes, I took a few moments to compose myself. "Uh...we’re not. Well, I mean..."

  "Yeah, he said he hadn’t known you for long. But he didn’t tell me much about you. Just said you were some chick he’d met in a bar one night, so I assumed..."

  "You assumed what?" My voice, much firmer than I’d expected, surprised even me.

  "Nothing, nothing..." Richard held up his palms in a gesture of passive-aggressive innocence, his voice edging up an octave. "I just wondered if you were seeing him or if it was just a fling. Mind you, you know what Leo’s like. Fuck anything that moves, that boy would. Although, having said that..." Richard continued to tap away at my keyboard, and I tapped my foot. "He must really like you. It’s not every one of his conquests who gets a request for a discount. He usually just mentions names, when he remembers them that is, in passing, and the next week he moves on to someone new..."

  My heart thudded against my ribcage.

  When in fear the human body goes into a state of heightened awareness.

  Blood pounded in my ears as a backbeat to the conversation.

  "There you go, love. All set." Richard pressed a few more keys and I assumed he was waiting for the computer to shut down. "Right. Well as you’re a friend of Leo’s I’ll knock a few quid off the cleanup for you." Richard thrust his hands into his jeans pockets as he sidled over to me and my gaze shot from the computer, to him, back to the computer. Still looking for something.

  He should have brought the laptop over with him, I decided. So is he expecting me to go over and pick it up?

  Still unsure of why I didn’t want to step over into the ‘workshop’, I eyed him as he neared me, hands still in pockets and this made me shudder.

  He lingered at my side, not making any move to step behind the counter and open up the till. "So, Leo’s not your proper boyfriend, then?"

  I had to crane my neck to look up at his face, he was so close. Invading my personal space. No doubt deliberately. His hands at last came out of his pockets where I could see them.

  "I fail to see why that’s any of your concern."

  "Just curious, just curious, that’s all. Like I said, Leo didn’t tell me much about you, just—"

  "Then there must have been a reason for that, mustn’t there?"

  "Sheesh, he didn’t tell me you were so secretive."

  "There’s nothing secretive about wanting to keep your private life private."

  "Honey, after what I found on your hard drive there’s nothing about you that’s private."

  My entire being jolted into a state of disbelief.

  He didn’t just say that.

  He couldn’t have just said that.

  He certainly didn’t just pat me on the backside.

  I spun round on my heels to face him, not wanting him at my back or anywhere I couldn’t see him. The look on my face must have telegraphed my amazement because he faltered, his brow furrowing.

  "Um... I, uh... well..." He patted the air gently, in front of me, as if trying to calm me down.

  I sidestepped. Immediately felt more comfortable. Not relaxed but certainly less jittery than I had when he’d been but centimeters away, though still reeling from his unwarranted physical contact.

  "So you don’t have a regular boyfriend then?" he asked.

  "What the hell business is that of yours?"

  "Or a girlfriend?"

  "You just don’t know when to stop, do you?" I blurted out, wondering if I’d just made the most stupid move of my life. I had no idea how he’d respond to righteous
indignation, if he’d back down or flare up.

  "Hey, I was only being friendly!"

  My spine prickled with that heightened awareness again.

  But I didn’t know what I was looking for, nor what I should do. Pay for my computer, take it and go, or make a run for my computer and... no, that’d never work. It was at the back of the shop, well out of reach and to step into that part of the building would cut me off from—

  The door.

  That was what I’d been searching for. Escape. Whenever he’d spoken to me, my spine had tingled because it was towards the door. During those moments when he’d stood beside me, I’d panicked, because my escape route was blocked off. I didn’t want to go for my computer because I’d be walking further away from the exit.

  Just leave, Piper, the voice told me. It was another part of me speaking or a voice outside myself. This sensory sensitivity bordered on an out of body experience. I watched myself watching Richard, watched myself plan my exit.

  "After all, there’s no one else in the shop," he murmured, inclining his head in my direction.

  Get out.

  "I could take you 'round the back and sort—"

  Before I’d turned one-eighty, my hand reached for the door handle. Drunk on adrenaline, I threw the door open, breath coming in shallow gasps, praying I’d get across the threshold without him lunging for me and when the glorious fresh air hit me, I gulped it down, stumbling forward into the forecourt of the computer shop, past a parked car—no doubt his—and onto the pavement beyond.

  Shuddering, nauseated, I looked back, half expecting to see him right behind me, but nothing.

  And my computer was still in there. Worth hundreds of pounds, but... at least nothing serious had occurred...

  Again I shuddered, frozen all over as the adrenaline left my body. I suspected I’d be in for a migraine later or at the very least a stress headache.

  Not wanting to dwell on matters, I tripped forward, excusing myself as I bumped a passerby who glanced at me and carried on walking.

  A number of doors along the street, I leaned against a wall, suddenly dizzy, still paranoid that I’d look over my shoulder to find Richard there although logic told me he wouldn’t leave the shop unattended.