by AC Netzel
“There’s that wit again.”
“You think I’m kidding? I’m starving.”
Ben grabs the bag of tortellini and adds it to the water. I jump off the counter and retie my sash. I take a spoon out of the dish rack and hand it to him. He stirs the tortellini and puts the spoon down on the counter. “Can you put a colander in your sink and pour the package of peas in it?”
“Seriously? You’re not going to cook the peas?” I ask.
“Yes, seriously, they’ll cook in the pasta.”
I do as he asks, emptying the frozen peas in the colander. After a few minutes, Ben grabs the handle to the pot and pours the tortellini in the colander, the hot water draining out the little holes. Once it’s all drained, he returns the tortellini and pea mixture back into the pot and adds butter.
“Can you pass the cheese please,” he asks.
I hand over the container of grated parmesan and he sprinkles some in, never measuring.
“Done.”
“That’s it?” I frown.
“That’s it. It’s a simple dish. Two plates, please?”
I take two plates out of the cabinet and hand them to Ben. He spoons a hefty helping of the tortellini with peas on each plate.
“Sir, would you like to dine in the sophisticated ambience of the formal dining area,” I ask in my best English accent, tilting my head toward the tiny table for two cluttered with mail in our kitchen. “Or would you prefer the pedestrian casual seating on the floor and use the coffee table in the parlor?” I ask, tilting my head the other way.
“Well Madame… Why don’t we relax? I don’t mind sitting on the floor.”
“Would you like some wine. I think I have a bottle of Chianti hidden somewhere?”
“Hidden?” he asks, amused.
“Yeah, Allie’s friends will drink anything they see when they’re here. I have a hidden stash.”
“I see,” he laughs. “Sure, Chianti sounds good.”
I bend down and search toward the back of the cabinet that holds our pots and find the hidden bottle of wine. The bottle is full of dust. At least, the wine is clean. I take it out of the cabinet and quickly dust it off with my hands before Ben sees it. I take a corkscrew and pop the cork, pouring two glasses of Chianti.
“Shall we…” I ask, pointing my chin toward the living room.
We walk over to the coffee table. “Where should I put these?” he asks, pointing to the mess in front of him.
Shit, he found my stash of gossip magazines spread out all over the coffee table. It’s not like they’re hard to miss. I can’t let him know that his editor is seriously addicted to this crap. It’ll ruin any credibility I have. Well, what little credibility a mostly naked editor can have.
“Oh, Allie leaves those ridiculous rags everywhere. I’ll take them.” I gather up the pile of magazines and move them over to the small table in the kitchen area.
Ben places our plates down. We sit with our legs stretched out under the table.
“Would you like to turn on the television?” I ask.
“Sure, if you want.”
The remote for most people is usually a hassle to find, but Allie and I have a system. We figure since it always ends up in-between the couch cushions eventually, we might as well just keep it there. The only organization in this entire apartment is based on the laws of disorganization. Whatever works, right? I grab the remote and turn on the TV.
Normally, I’d watch one of my cable shows about clothes I can’t afford, bitchy brides, or just horrible people in general but I don’t want Ben to know about my vices, not yet anyway. I hand Ben the remote and he puts on a cable Sports Channel talk show.
“Is this okay?” he asks.
“Sure.” If you want to bore me to death.
We dig into our tortellini. It’s surprisingly tasty. How can this be? Four ingredients… fast and delicious?
“This is really good,” I say appreciatively.
“You sound surprised.”
“I guess I am. It was such a simple dish to make. I didn’t expect it to taste this good.”
“Things don’t need to be complicated to be good,” he explains.
I don’t think he’s talking tortellini. I guess this is Ben’s mantra.
“I suppose you’re right. Thank you for making dinner.”
“Purely selfish. You’ll need your energy for what I have in mind for you later,” he jests, mimicking the words I said to him earlier.
“You sound pretty sure of yourself.” I arch a brow.
“A man can dream.”
“Not all dreams come true,” I remind him.
“Some already have.” His voice is low and silky smooth. He runs his index finger playfully up and down my arm.
There’s no way in hell I’m going to say no to another round with Ben. I’m eyeing the couch; the five extra steps to the bedroom seem too far away.
As we’re eating our dinner, I catch Ben’s eyes shifting focus to the side where I’m sitting. Naturally, my first thought is I have peas stuck in my teeth. But he’s not looking at my mouth. I look down and see my robe has popped open, exposing my breast.
Men are such adolescents when it comes to breasts.
“Were you enjoying the show?” I roll my eyes as I straighten out my robe until I’m properly covered.
“I was enjoying it very much,” he says with a smug expression. “Thank you.”
I shake my head, mocking disgust, trying to hide my amusement. I figure while things are pretty light between us; I should ask some questions that I should have tackled before my panties were swinging on chandeliers.
“I’m a little embarrassed to ask this since it’s kind of after the fact, but you don’t have any STDs, do you?”
“No. I’m clean. I can give you my last test results if that makes you feel better,” he says candidly. “I should ask you the same.”
“I’m clean too.” After finding out that Mikehole was a serial cheater, the first thing I did after dumping his cheating ass was to get tested. I was scared as hell and lucky. With all the screwing around he did, it’s a wonder the asshole still had a dick to use at all.
It’s all water under the bridge now. No one can cheat on me anymore. I don’t do the boyfriend thing.
Ben chuckles, shaking his head. I tilt my head, look at him and frown. What’s so funny?
“I suppose in the heat of the moment, we left out some important information. I’ve never been that careless before. I just wanted you so badly. I wasn’t thinking,” he explains, looking a bit bewildered.
His words set me on fire. He feels the same way I do. Any sense of rational decision making flew out the window. I had to have him. I needed to have him, to feel him, to kiss him, to fuck him. His sense of reason was dictated by his dick, while mine was lured by my libido. My hormones awaken, the slick wetness between my legs building again. This half-naked god sitting next to me wanted me that badly, making my yearning for more of him blast at full force. I’d like to push him down on the floor and have another go.
Calm down and let the man eat, Julia. Ok. I need to get my mind off his abs… And his strong, muscular arms… And that beautiful bulge in his boxer briefs.
“Um, so how old are you?” I ask. God, I’m such a slut. I don’t even know how old the guy is. Then again, I’m a slut who had sex with Ben Martin... that makes me a smart slut. I can live with that.
“Twenty eight. You?” he asks.
“Twenty Four.” I laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“Us. This. We know each other better horizontally than vertically,” I say.
“We could change that.” He wiggles his eyebrows and devilishly grins. My heart races. I know his remark has everything to do with sex. Being the newly christened smart slut that I am… I’m game. He slides his dinner plate forward, indicating that he’s finished eating. He stands and holds out his hand to me. I place my hand in his and he helps me off the floor. We walk silently to my bedroom, ha
nd in hand.
“Condoms?” he asks.
“I’ll get it.” Once again, now is not the time for Ben and BOB to meet. I use my body as a shield to cover my open drawer; BOB is relaxing comfortably in the back. I find a packet and place it on my nightstand. I’m about to sit on my bed when Ben interrupts me.
“Don’t sit,” he murmurs, his voice husky. Ben can turn on the sexy in a split second. “Come here,” he says as he crooks his finger at me.
With condom packet in hand, I walk over to Ben who is standing by my dresser. Once I’m in front of him, he grabs the silk sash from my robe and unties it, opening the robe. His eyes scan my naked body, up and down, slowly drinking me in. He licks his lips; I know he likes what he sees. I look down and blush, my eye catching a glimpse of his erection. With his index finger, he tilts my chin up, leans in and kisses me, hard.
“You wanted to know me vertically…” He flips me around so I’m facing the dresser; our reflections in the mirror in front of us. “Bend forward. Hands on the dresser,” he whispers, leaning into me, his lips lightly brushing against my ear, the hum of his voice vibrating straight down to my sex.
My heart races and I obey immediately. He reaches around and cups my breasts; gently kneading and stroking them, his fingers roll my hardened nipples while he rubs his erection against the back of my silk robe. I tilt my head back against him, as his hands glide down my breasts, and splay across my stomach. I love the feel of his hands on me. He reaches a hand between my thighs and spreads my legs, then continues to move until he reaches my throbbing sex. I close my eyes and moan as I delight in the exquisite feeling of his fingers gently teasing my folds. I’m desperate to feel him inside me.
I tremble as his fingers work their magic on me, stroking inside my swollen folds, his fingers teasingly rubbing against my clit. I had no idea I could get this wet or that I could have so much need for his touch…. But I do. I need it. I crave it. He sinks two fingers inside of me, sliding them in and out, grinding his erection against my backside, and I know I’m gone.
I close my eyes tightly, my hands gripping the edge of the dresser, my hips rocking to his rhythm as I feel that strong exquisite sensation begin to claim me again. Pulsating wave after wave of tremors run through my body.
“Give it to me, Julia,” he growls in my ear.
His words put me over the edge. I cry out as I convulse around his fingers finding my release. Ben wastes no time, as I hear him pull off his boxer briefs and tear the condom packet open, sheathing his erection quickly. He moves my legs further part, pushing my robe up to my waist. His hands caress my naked ass then he grasps my hips, ramming his length inside of me. He pounds me hard, rough, frantic. The back of my wooden dresser bangs hard against the wall. I close my eyes as he plunges inside of me, harder and harder. I hear my nail polish bottles, perfume bottles and hair products falling over violently, rolling along the top of my dresser, some falling to the floor.
“Open your eyes, watch us.”
I open my eyes and look into the mirror, our eyes meet, and I’m lost in his intense gaze. I feel like a voyeur in my own hedonistic life.
“Do you like to watch us, Julia?” he growls through his clenched teeth.
“Yes,” I gasp, my arms tensing, holding me in place. Thank God I have this dresser to lean on…there’s no way I could stand on my own.
He’s pumping inside of me at a punishing rate. Pounding me, grinding into me. His breathing is harsh and uneven. I love watching him do this to me. I fucking love it.
“Julia… Fuck.” He holds my hips still as he cries out my name. He tilts his head back, closing his eyes tight, finding his own frenzied release. He exhales a deep breath and leans into me, resting his hands on the dresser, his chest touching my back. Both of us are motionless as we catch our breaths.
“You are amazing.” He kisses behind my ear, eases out of me and stands. I straighten myself out and turn to face him. “Come.” He tugs on my hand and we walk to my bed. “Lay down with me a while.” He disposes of the condom, pulls off his V neck, and lies down on the bed. I crawl next to him and we spoon, his front to my back. After a while of lavishing in the comfort of his arms, I find myself dozing off.
“Hey, are you falling asleep?” he asks.
“Maybe.” I yawn.
“Then I should probably get going.” He sits up on the bed.
Going? He’s not staying?
Allie told me about this phenomenon. A guy fucks you then ducks out on you quickly after. A Fuck and Duck? Have I just been fucked and ducked?
“Ben, you don’t have to go. I mean, you can stay if you want.”
“I’m sorry. I have a 6:00 A.M. appointment with my trainer tomorrow. I’m running a marathon in Brooklyn in December. He’s been training with me before he meets with his regular clients at the gym. I’d have to get up at five to get back to my place, change and go to the park to meet him.”
Looking at his body, there’s no doubt he works out. Running a marathon doesn’t surprise me. My gut says he’s telling the truth and not ducking. It’s already late. I can see his point.
“Okay,” I say, looking down at the duvet covering me.
“Hey, look at me,” he says. I look up and meet his gaze. “I had a good time.”
“Me too.” I smile and nod. “Anyway, it’s for the best; my paying customers are due here in a half hour.” I’ve always found making a joke helps me deal with disappointment. Allie says I use humor as a defense mechanism. Maybe… but it works. I hope he doesn’t see through it.
“There’s that quick wit.” Ben gets out of bed and dresses himself. A hollow feeling fills me as I watch him buttoning up his shirt. I don’t know if I’m supposed to feel this way in a casual relationship. I don’t know much right now.
No, no. This is for the best. This is good. No awkward morning after is a bonus…it’s too… relationshipy. Sex and fun… That’s all I’m looking for and that’s exactly what he delivered.
“Walk me to the door?” he asks, holding out his hand.
“Sure.” I tighten the sash around my robe and place my hand in his, as he helps me off the bed.
We walk quietly through the apartment. Ben picks his coat up off the floor where we left it in our “get naked fast” frenzy and puts it on. We stand at the front door facing each other.
“Thank you, Julia. Tonight was the best. You really are incredible.”
“Thank you for cooking dinner… and the orgasms.” I smirk.
“Believe me, it was my pleasure.” He laughs. “I’ll see you soon?”
“I’d like that. But we have to be cool when we work together. I don’t want Vivian to know about us. We have to keep things professional between us at Wisteria.”
“Ashamed of me?” He pouts, jokingly holding his hands to his heart.
“Yes, you’re my charity fuck,” I deadpan.
“You’re very poetic for an editor. Ever think of writing?”
“I’ll take that under advisement.” I laugh.
“Good. I’ll be in touch. Good night, Julia.” He sweetly kisses my lips and leaves.
“Good night, Ben.” I close the door, leaning my forehead on it, wondering what the hell I just got myself into.
Chapter 6
I feel like I just came off a gang bang bender. My nether regions are sore as hell. This must be what a virgin bride feels like the morning after her wedding night. Shit, I ache. It’s going to be a bitch to walk. Sex with Ben was definitely a workout. I sit up and wince when I stretch. I’ve stretched muscles I haven’t used in a long, long time. I need to exercise more often if I want to keep up with him. God, I hate exercise… maybe yoga. Yoga’s not real exercise, is it? That ought to bring some bendiness back to this body.
I drag my aching body out of bed and stumble to the kitchen. I put on a pot of coffee and take two Advil. As I’m waiting for the coffee to finish brewing, I think back to last night. My fingers brush across my lips as I remember our kisses, sometimes passionate, s
ometimes sweet, and always amazing.
I have no regrets. The sex was… incredible.
I must admit, for someone who hasn’t done the deed in nearly half a year… I was Pretty. Fucking. Good. It really is like falling off a bike, except I got back on a bike with rock hard abs and buns of steel. It’s a bonus that Ben comes fully equipped with all sorts of sex skills, no training wheels necessary for that man.
I like the idea of a no strings attached relationship. It’s mutually beneficial, the pleasure without the baggage. There’s no dishonesty. It’s all out on the table. We’re both into each other physically, but have no want or need for anything more. I thought detaching sex from love would be difficult for me but I find I’m surprisingly comfortable with it. The more I think about it, the happier I am with its simplicity.
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills the room. I close my eyes and inhale deeply. It’s heavenly. I pour a cup, grab a gossip rag off the kitchen table and plop down on the couch.
I’m engrossed in an article about an aging celebutante’s drug induced escapades when Allie saunters in.
“Hey Al.” I yawn, peeking up from my magazine.
“Good morning, my Sweet Julia,” she sings as she twirls around the entranceway.
My Sweet Julia? Apparently Allie is still drunk or hasn’t come down from her sex high from last night’s conquest.
“Did you have a good night?” I ask.
“Deeee-lightful,” she purrs as she hangs her coat on a hook near the door. She looks back at me and tilts her head, her brow furrowed. “The place looks neater than yesterday. Where are all your magazines?” She looks in the kitchen. “Pots on the stove? You never cook dinner for yourself.” She narrows her eyes looking directly into mine. “Wait a minute…You had sex last night!” she exclaims.
“What?” My mouth falls open as my eyes widen.
“Sex. You had sex,” she squeals, swaying from foot to foot.
Are there cameras in my bedroom? How can she possibly know this?
“Why do you think I had sex last night?” I ask, testing her.