by Ellie Rowe
His breath starts to change, and I know he’s feeling the electricity sizzle between us. I feel like I’ve got goddamn stars in my eyes gazing up at him. In fact, if he keeps looking at me like that, I’m sorely tempted to fuck him right here in the courthouse bathroom.
His hands slide around my waist and one trails down to squeeze my ass. I make a little sound of pleasure, so he pulls me close to him, his pelvis against mine.
You know what? It’s actually a pretty great bathroom, and the jury will be out for at least an hour… Why the hell not?
Thirty-Six
Roger
Thank God for whoever cleans the bathrooms of the New York City courthouses. And for all the tax dollars that support the custodial staff and pay for the rest rooms’ general upkeep. The courthouse johns are surprisingly pristine and sturdy, I now know.
The thrill of how the case turned around has more than my hairs standing up. Natalie’s desire is evident, as well. There’s obviously no time for a quick jaunt to somewhere for ensured privacy. Nidi has said to stay close, anyway, in case the jury comes back with a quick verdict.
So instead of popping out somewhere, Natalie and I tumble into one of those well-kempt restrooms, already intensely making out. We’re in a pink-tiled, multi-stalled women’s bathroom, but neither of us are paying attention to the décor. Our only focus is each other.
We kiss deeply as our hands mess with each other’s hair. Already, she and I are making little moans of desire as we make out.
Then we hear a bathroom flush. Natalie and I come up for air and freeze. A stall door opens. A mousy woman that I recognize as our courtroom’s stenographer steps out. She comes up short when she sees us.
“Hello,” Natalie and I say simultaneously. I give her an innocent wave with my fingers.
We must be quite the unexpected picture, our limbs intertwined, our hair and clothes already very much askew.
Natalie giggles. I mostly manage to hold it together.
The stenographer takes a full twenty-seconds to diligently wash her hands. All the while, Natalie secretly teases my balls through my pants. The situation and her roaming fingers bounce me back and forth between trying not to giggle and starting to take sharp inhalations of enjoyment.
Finally, the stenographer leaves. I crouch down to insure there’s no one else finishing their business. Then Natalie and I get back to business.
When I turn to her, she’s already pulling her panties off from under her dress skirt, slipping them over her heels. She stuffs them in one of my suitcoat pockets. I undo my tie as she ravenously unbuttons my shirt. She runs her nails along the front of my body. She traces the curve of my pecs, drags her nails softly along the ridges of my abs.
Then we kiss deeply again. I can feel her nipples pressing against her dress shirt. She can no doubt feel my hard-on pressing against my pants. What’s about to happen feels like more than the celebration of how things appear to be turning out. More than a release from the thrill and tension of the courtroom drama.
It’s like a culmination to this whole saga. It feels well-earned for both of us.
With a quick movement, I lift her sit up and onto the edge of one of the sinks. She sucks on one of my earlobes, her tongue occasionally flicking around the ear, sending ticklish quivers of delight down my spine. I work on unbuttoning her blouse to just below her navel. I pull down the front of her bra and expose her beautiful breasts.
She grabs one, lifting it slightly to me as I bend my mouth down to it. I lick and suck at the erect nipple. Then I work my way up her neck and back to her mouth. After another deep, wet kiss, I trace a reverse path down her neck and to her other breast. I roll my tongue around the areola, gently cross it back and forth along the nipple. She gives an “mmm” of appreciation before directing my mouth back to hers.
As I kiss her and fondle her breasts, she undoes my pants and strokes up and down along the length of my member. I slide a hand between her thighs. She is already wet as I play with her clitoris, getting her even more ready. Then she directs me inside her.
I slide in deep. She arches her neck, her head back as she takes the full length of me. I kiss and lick her neck. I start to move in and out when –
Footsteps. The unmistakable clack-clack of high heels coming down the hallway toward us. Natalie and I lock eyes. She starts to laugh.
“Shh!” I hiss.
Still deep inside her, I lift her off the sink and carry her into a stall. I kick the door shut and lock it.
We wait there. She has her back against the stall door. Her legs are around my hips, her arms over my shoulders. I’ve got my hands under her ass, supporting her, and she is still taking in the full length of me.
Someone comes in. We can hear her humming a pop song to herself. We listen as the sink turns on. Then I watch through a crack between the stall door and stall wall as some lady lawyer starts re-applying her make-up.
Natalie begins to gently grind on me. I nearly let out a moan. To keep our covers, I kiss her deeply. Then, I gently tweak one of her nipples. Natalie lets out a little chirp. She immediately gives me a sharp but playful accusatory look. I grin back. Two can play at this game.
She grinds around more, nearly making me call out in pleasure. In ‘retaliation’, I put my thumb against her clit and start to bring her more ecstasy. She opens her mouth wide but manages to keep silent.
The game of it all just turns us on more.
It takes about five minutes for the woman to finish up. In that time, Natalie and I continue to make quiet, slow love. Our bodies move almost imperceptibly. Yet the excitement is intense. Perhaps it’s the thrill of being caught combined with everything else. We’re both on fire for each other.
We slide and groove just enough to send little quivers of delicious sensations snaking through our bodies. Each penetration increases our desire. Each one acts like a tease, and also like a promise of what’s around the corner.
Finally, we hear the woman leave. Alone again, it’s like I’m unleashed. I thrust with a deep, purposeful rhythm. I angle myself in such a way so that with every push into her, my cock passes across her most sensitive spots. It’s like I’m playing every note in a chord precisely, cleanly, the final effect both balanced and pleasing.
Natalie responds in kind, using her inner muscles to provide me ever increasing stimulation. Using her heels gently in my back, she dictates the pace she needs. Now and again I alter it to surprise her, keep her just this side of cumming.
“Mm! Fuck! Yes!” she calls out.
The stalls shake in response to my quickening pace.
I hear the bathroom door open again, but there’s no stopping us now. We’re reaching the point of no return. Natalie and I keep ourselves quiet by pressing our mouths together and breathing hot and heavy through our noses. Nevertheless, soft, little “mm… mm” sounds escape from us. Hers get higher and higher in pitch as she gets close. Mine get progressively deeper. I’m hoping they’re not too loud, but by then I’m too close to an orgasm to really care.
With one final thrust, we finish together. As our respective orgasms pulse through us, our muscles relax and our kiss becomes deeper, slower, more tender.
We’re both sweaty as I bury my face in the crook of her neck. Our breath comes in quickly, releases in long, slow exhalations.
“Order in the court…” she whispers playfully.
“Any objections?” I ask, gently kissing her neck.
“None, your honor.”
“Then,” I say, slowly sliding out of her, “court adjourned.”
“I don’t know about my client,” she says as I set her on her feet, “but counsel certainly got off…”
We both giggle and that’s definitely loud enough to blow our cover. So despite Natalie’s non-verbal protestations, I step out of the stall and button up.
A moment later, I’m washing my hands at the sink when a woman emerges from one of the stalls and freezes as she sees me.
“Hello,” I say casua
lly as I shake water from my hands.
Another stall opens. Another woman steps out and freezes. “Hi,” I say, just as cooly as you please.
Thankfully, neither one of them screams for security. I towel my hands off.
Natalie emerges from the stall where we just made love. She finishes buttoning her blouse and straightening her skirt. The women now eye her. Even if they didn’t hear us reaching climax, it doesn’t take a law scholar to know what’s just happened.
One of them looks scandalized. The other one appraises both Natalie and myself for just a moment before trying to hide a coy smile. I swear there’s a hint of admiration in her eyes.
It’s entirely possible they’ll sell this story to the tabloids before the day is out.
For once, I really don’t care.
My hands now dry, I find Natalie’s panties in my suit pocket and hand them to her. We both fight not to giggle again as she stoops to pull them up.
I make for the door. Just before I exit, I give a glance back to the other women and offer them a polite word of departure.
“Ladies.”
Thirty-Seven
Natalie
“Wow, the camera really does add ten pounds, doesn’t it?” Roger laughs as he slings his arm around me. “Present company excluded, of course.” I jab him lightly in the ribs and he flinches and laughs.
He’s not wrong. There’s something about the angle of the camera that makes Blake look especially frumpy. There’s an occasional scan to the back of my head, but at least my hair looks quite nice.
I never thought I’d be here, sitting in Roger’s amazing penthouse watching my ex-husband get raked over the coals at a TV trial. This is better than Judge Judy.
Blake’s profession made for quite a circus, and the news stations are eating it up.
Thanks to all the madness surrounding the trial, everyone has pretty much forgotten about Roger and my little ‘scandal’. I still don’t see what’s so scandalous about amazing sex, but I guess it sells papers. I nestle closer to Roger.
As much as I love seeing Blake and his entire Western Tabloid empire get completely dismantled, even just seeing him onscreen makes my skin crawl. But, at least, it’s a lot easier to see his smarmy face with Roger by my side.
“Oooh, this is my favorite part!” I point to the screen as I watch Blake tug at his collar. “He always does that when he’s pissed.” Moments later, Blake slams his hands down on the stand and launches out of his seat, looking especially purple.
“Good eyes,” Roger chuckles. “So, have you figured out any of my special ‘tells’? Do I scratch my face when I’m horny or something?” Roger scans me and makes a show of scratching his five o’clock shadow.
“I’ve got nothing,” I laugh and shrug. Roger smiles.
“Well, you’ll have plenty of time to find out.”
I can’t help but beam back at him. Roger wants me here, for a long time. Long enough to figure out his little quirks and for him to understand mine.
I already know plenty about what makes him happy in bed, so I feel like I’m halfway there. But, I definitely want to stick around to figure out the rest.
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough of seeing this asshole to last a lifetime.”
I nod vigorously and reach for the remote. The giant flat screen shuts off with a satisfying blip.
“Wanna grab a bottle of wine for us?” Roger asks, jerking his thumb toward the kitchen. “I’ve got a built-in wine room just to the left of the fridge. It’s not huge, but holler if you get lost in there.” I roll my eyes.
“You can’t say ‘it’s not huge’, as if that somehow distracts from the fact you have a freaking walk-in wine fridge in your house!” I grumble as I stand. “But, I promise I’ll holler if I get lost.”
Roger slaps my ass as I get up, which sets me giggling.
I don’t care if I sound like a giddy schoolgirl, I’m happy. Completely, hopelessly happy. I hum to myself as I pass the fridge and push open the door. Wow, I may actually get lost.
It looks like a miniature version of the boutique wine store downstairs! I peek my head down one of the aisles and wonder if he’s got a miniature version of the manager, tiny mustache and all. The coast is clear, so I step down an aisle to figure out what to grab.
We could sell this room and buy a whole new penthouse with all the cash from these bottles! He’s got everything. I feel like a princess in my own personal wine castle. I pick a particularly lovely blend and skip down the aisle, twirling like an idiot.
But, just as I make a princess-like pirouette, my feet trip over one another and I start falling into one of the shelves. I flail my arms out to stop myself, but only bring the entire room crashing down around me!
Red wine is everywhere — my clothes, my hair, the marble floor! I finally stand and look at the carnage. My clothes make me look like the victim of a horror flick, and as I scan for survivors, I realize the only ones that made it out alive are me and the bottle I’m holding.
I hear Roger calling my name as he rushes through the kitchen into the room. When he finally makes it to the door, he looks stricken. I stare at him, my eyes huge and pleading. Don’t leave me, don’t leave me, don’t leave me.
“I — Roger, I’m so sorry — I don’t know what —” But Roger isn’t mad at all. Instead, he doubles over laughing, bracing himself against the door frame to keep from falling over. I bite my lip, but start to laugh with him.
“Jeez, if you don’t like the selection, just say so!” Roger chuckles as he picks his way to me. “Excellent choice, by the way.” He says as he inspects my sole survivor.
“God, Roger, I am so sorry.” He waves me off.
“Don’t be. It reminds me of how we met.” He leans down and plants a soft kiss on my lips, sending my whole body alight. “How about you clean up and I’ll open the bottle, huh? I’ll have someone come and deal with the mess later.”
I nod sheepishly, and look down at my clothes. I really do look like I belong in a scary movie. We pick our way back through the flood of wine, and Roger sets me up in the shower. I can hardly speak, I’m so embarrassed.
When he finally leaves, and I’ve shut the door, I lean my head against the wall, and I squeeze my eyes shut. How could I be so stupid? After everything we’ve been through, I go and make a dope out of myself all over again.
I don’t deserve the wine. Someone else should have it. Someone worthy of a fairy tale wine castle. I’m the troll who waits by the gate to holler at passersby and tip over wagons. Argh.
My clothes are completely ruined, but Roger assured me there’s a closet full of options ready and waiting, plus a shopping trip in our future. He’s given me so much, and I’ve given him a cellar full of broken bottles in return.
I scrub hard, trying to wash the foolishness away, but to no avail. My embarrassment knows no bounds. Sure, he didn’t seem to mind, and even went so far as to laugh with me, but that can’t possibly be true.
I emerge from the shower feeling worse than before, which is a feat considering any shower usually makes me deliriously happy, and horny, thinking of my time with Roger. Grabbing a silk, black robe Roger laid out for me, I open the door, ready to apologize.
“Roger, I wanted to —” I stop dead in my tracks. Roger is kneeling in front of me. At first, I think something must be terribly wrong, maybe he hurt his foot on the broken glass or something. But then, I see what he’s holding.
“Natalie,” Roger asks, his blue eyes brighter than I’ve ever seen them. “My amazing, wine-smashing, hotel-chasing, powerful, brilliant, sexy woman, will you marry me?” I stand there for a moment with my mouth open.
“You mean me?” I squeak and point to my chest. Roger laughs and opens the ring box. Holy shit. The ring is gorgeous, dazzling and huge.
“Yes, Natalie, you. I want you.” Roger looks at me expectantly and proffers the ring box. His face starts to turn as he stares at me. “Natalie…?”
“Oh God, YES!�
� I finally shout and Roger’s worry fades to relief. I rush closer to him and help him slip the ring on my finger. A perfect fit. I have no idea how he knew my ring size, but that’s a question for another time.
For now, I want to devour him, to hold him so close even an entire destroyed wine room can’t stand in the way of how much we love each other. The tears start to fall, and even Roger’s eyes are brimming.
I throw myself into his arms and he holds me, swaying as I listen to his heartbeat. “Thank you,” I whisper and look at my ring. Dear God, it’s gorgeous.
“Now, how about we celebrate with a little wine, huh? Well, the only wine…” I groan and Roger laughs, taking my hand to lead me to the kitchen. He has the wine and glasses set up, a dozen roses and even candles.
Goddamn, when did he set this up? How long was my shower anyway? I’m on the verge of tears again when Roger kisses me, our lips caressing each other’s hungrily. I’ve never been happier in my life, than right here, right now, with this man at my lips.
“Mmm, is it just me or does kissing my fiancée taste even better than kissing my scandalous tabloid lover?” Roger jokes as he kisses my nose. I take my wine glass and hold it to him. He smiles and grabs his.
“Now what do we toast to?” he asks and I think back on all the times we’ve done so before. That horrible day when he took me to lunch, our first night, in my penthouse and his.
“Actually…” he says, as he takes a step closer to me, “I’ve got one, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” I laugh and prepare my glass.
Roger slides his hand up my waist, feeling the silk robe against my curves. “To the future Mrs. Zane, and the luckiest son of a bitch who ever lived.”
I laugh and smile at him clinking my glass against his.
“Perfect.” We both take a drink and relish how wonderful it tastes. But, to be honest, I can hardly think about floral notes at a time like this. I set my glass, giving him a meaningful stare.