I clicked through it and without much effort I found a post about an upcoming ten-year reunion. Attached to it was a photo of the graduating class in question. It had been taken from the yearbook. Even the names of the students were listed below the photo. I followed the appropriate lines until I found his face and his name. Mason, Mason Sharp. He looked adorable and disinterested in the photo. It didn't vary much from how he looked now, when he stared at nothing.
I leaned back from my computer a little confused. That name sounded familiar. I returned to the search engine and typed in "Mason Sharp". There were a few pictures at the top of the page. Of those pictures few were of Mason. Most of the photos were mobs of people at court hearings.
Below the line of pictures there were many news articles listed. "David Sharp Robs Clients of Millions" read one. "David Sharp Found Guilty" read another. That one had a picture of a young Mason sobbing at the courthouse. "Why the David Sharp Conviction Doesn't Fix the Problem" read one blog post. David Sharp had been an investment banker. He stole a lot of money from his clients with marked skill.
He got away with it for years. No one knew for sure how much money he got off with. They never could locate or confiscate the money. He hid it too well. Regular people despised this type of criminal. I remembered this happening. I had been too young to care much, but my mom was outraged. The math said that he could be out by now. I wondered if Mason had anything to do with him.
I sat with the information I discovered for a while unsure what to do with it. My automatic answer was that it didn't warrant a lie. He didn't have a reason to be embarrassed about a name and that a bad father didn't make a bad son. I couldn't be satisfied by that. The more I thought about the more I realized that not all people are understanding. What if your father was a criminal, the kind that preyed on people who trusted him. That stain would follow you. I knew a lot of people who would assume you were the same.
I found it strange that he didn't think he could trust me with this. I started to think we were close, that we were getting to know each other. Could it be possible that a man like him could still be that insecure? I puzzled over it for a while, not sure what to do with it. I realized that there were no professional listings for Mason Sharp either. Another layer added to the mystery.
It's true that this revelation complicated things, but if anything, it only made me want him more. I imagined how solitary his life must have been at times. I imagined how it would have been to have a mom who died and a father who abandoned you. I only every had to deal with one of those.
The boy in the trial photos couldn't have been more than eleven or twelve. My heart broke for him kids need their parents. He hadn't been sent into foster care. I wondered who raised him. Whoever they were they sent him to boarding school. I wondered if he wanted that or if they did. I wished I could have helped him. I wished I could comfort him now.
I filled with so much emotion waiting until the next night to see him seemed impossible. I didn't know what to say. I approached the whole situation wrong and that left me embarrassed. That summed up much of my life, seeing a situation and leaping to the worst possible conclusion. I would always regret the result of those actions later.
The one part of this left unsolved being what he did for a living. It could be possible he did live off his trust fund. That didn't fit with the impression I got from him. He seemed like someone who couldn't stand inactivity. That matter wasn't important enough to demand anymore knowledge from him tonight. I texted him unable to stop myself. I hoped I could smooth things back over. I worried that I would make things words in the effort. It was what I usually did.
I know it's only tomorrow, but it seems so far away. I can't wait to see you.
His response came a while later. I wondered if he got busy or maybe fell asleep.
That's a much different tone than our last conversation.
I smiled at his words. At least he still talked to me.
Are you complaining?
I wiggled flirtatiously even though he couldn't see me. I reacted naturally to the hormones buzzing through my body.
If I was smart I guess I wouldn't, but I'm not so I am. I wonder about the way you think sometimes. From one minute to the next you are so different. You are the most wild and interesting person I've ever met. I'm going to fuck your brains out tomorrow night, Claire. I'm going to take control of your body and make it do things you never thought it could.
I read his text over and over. I let the words sink in and warm my body. I couldn't believe he thought those things of me. I couldn't remember being wild or interesting for a moment of my life. I couldn't wait to see him. I couldn't wait for him to show me what he could do to me. My body reacted like he sat beside me. I took a deep breath to calm myself and texted him back.
Dream of me.
12
Friday morning came and brought with it anticipation that bordered on pain. My dreams had been hot the night before, draped with impossibility. I stretched and tried to open my eyes all the way. I couldn't fathom being so excited and so tired at once. I needed to reach out to him. While I still laid in bed I took a picture of myself draped in my white sheet. My breasts peeked over the top of the sheet. I sent it to him with the text,
I can't wait to see you tonight.
His response came quick, he took the picture in a similar pose, in bed, draped in a sheet. His lovely pecks and abs glowed in the morning sun. His hand grabbed over the sheet. The outline showed long and impressive. I shivered a little as I thought of him touching it for me.
I was thinking of you. Let's have dinner at 7. I'll pick you up at 6:45.
Whenever I texted him that stupid smile stayed on my face. It was a relief to not be in public for everyone to see. I found his imperious nature charming.
You get off on surprising me, don't you?
I flirted, imagining him getting off.
Be patient. You'll see exactly how I get off tonight.
My thighs tightened and once again he read my mind.
How am I supposed to go to work like this? I can't control myself.
I sent him a picture with my fingers inside me.
Don't play with me, Claire. Tonight, that belongs to me.
I shivered at the thought. With more enthusiasm than I usually had for the day I got ready and made my way to work. I walked the four blocks. It had all the markings of a wonderful day. I found myself happy for once about not having a car. It gave me more moments like this. I sensed eyes on me as I walked. I looked around unable to find anything to support that. I decided it was ridiculous. The street stood empty.
I arrived at the library. As I unlocked the door I marveled at the fact I had a key. It was mine to unlock. I flipped on the lights as I entered noting the new pile of books in the return bin. The morning volunteer could sort those out. I picked up some stray books and bits of trash. Flipped a few switches and started a pot of coffee. It was simple to open the library. I finished about fifteen minutes later. I sat down at my desk and started to check my email. There were only a couple to my https://www.autocrit.com/editor/#address, but the central help account was full.
The morning passed quickly as I tried to solve the people's problems. My work consumed me, and I didn't pay much attention to anything else. My morning volunteer, Emma arrived, shocking me. She seemed like a nice girl, pretty, quiet, light footed. I jumped halfway across the room at her gentle good morning. She apologized on repeat no matter how much I assured her it was my fault for being unobservant. I chatted with her for a moment and then gave her a list of tasks I needed completed for the day.
I spent a little while working on the bulletin board. I pulled down old flyers and put up the approved submissions. I started to like Emma a lot. As quiet as she could be she held a conversation well when she wanted to. She was about my age and still in college. She had a fun funky attitude. As much as I liked her Mason could only stay off my mind for so long, especially with the night I had in mind. I went back to my office to
flirt with him some more.
I'm at work and I can't stop thinking about you long enough to do my job.
I attempted some work on the computer.
Same, actually.
My heart fluttered, and my body started to warm. At least that confirmed he worked. That made things even more confusing considering I could not find any record of a professional career. The mystery wound me up even tighter in his spell.
I can't wait to taste you.
My fingers seemed to have a mind of their own as I typed the words.
Same, actually.
I laughed out loud. The words were barely funny, but the excitement kept me on edge.
"So, who's this guy who's got you so twisted up?" Emma stood in the doorway. Her strawberry blonde hair surrounded her in a straight curtain. Her brown eyes were friendly.
I did my best not to jump at her unexpected presence. "Am I that obvious?"
"I'm afraid so." She looked sympathetic. "That smile means you got it bad."
I wondered if she had a lot of experience with this type of thing. "I don't know what I have." I tapped my fingers against my desk.
"It's funny with love the people who are in it are often the last to know." Her voice came out sage.
"I'm not in love." I told her resolutely, my eyebrows pushing together.
"You're proving my point." She laughed. Her freckled cheeks lifted, revealing a row of perfect white teeth.
"A point that is right no matter what my answer is. How convenient."
"Convenience is important." Her eyes twinkled mischievously. I liked her, even if she stirred up a lot of thoughts I didn't have before.
"Oh" Her lips turned down at the corners. "I'm sure this isn't a big deal. These are kids playing a prank, but I found this in the return bin." She handed me a folded piece of paper and bopped out of the room before I opened it. A lined paper ripped out of a spiral notebook, the ragged edges were still attached. In red marker were the words;
Fuck you, bitch.
Something insidious twisted in the back of my mind. I couldn't quite place it but there was something about the note that assured me this was no prank. I had been paranoid. I had a lot of moments where I thought someone watched me. At that moment I was sure. My hands shook as I reread the note over and over. I wanted to voice my concerns to someone but had no idea where to start that wouldn't sound crazy. I didn't have any proof of being followed, and like Emma said this could be a prank.
The rest of the day passed smoothly. I was a busy and I found myself forgetting all about the note. I finished by five thirty which didn't seem bad all things considered. I walked home from work like I always did. I did move a little faster than normal in my excitement. I took a shower, did my hair and my makeup. When I got dressed I picked out some sexy lingerie and killer heels. I put both of those on first and admired myself before pulling my dress on. It was short, red, and didn't have too much more fabric than my lingerie. I looked hot.
I heard a knock at my door as I took a final appreciative spin. I tried not to move too quick. I didn't want him to know how much I wanted to see him. I reached the door at a regular speed. I opened the door and revealed a darkening sky and a gorgeous face. He smiled, his green eyes playful. His hair stuck out, still too short but growing out a bit from the buzz cut. I found him too tempting, there was no justice. "Hello" I wrapped my body seductively around the door. "Would you like to come in for a moment? I'm almost ready."
He looked a little confused but came through the door. "Okay." He smiled and stepped over the ledge. "Don't take too long. We have a reservation."
I turned to him, exaggerating the sway of my body. "This won't take long." I assured him as I closed the space between us. My hand moved to his too short hair and I pulled his face to me. Our lips met softly and sweetly at first. The connection intensified, his tongue plunged into my mouth. Desire exploded through me. I shoved him back against the door, pinning him with my pelvis. He hardened beneath me. I moaned at the contact. Our lips tangled. I melted into a puddle at his feet.
"Mm, Claire. Let's not miss our reservations." He spoke against my lips. I wouldn't listen. I moved my hand to his pants and grabbed his erection through them. I took full advantage grabbing the length of him. He grabbed me by my shoulders and pushed me back. He held me, softening the rejection.
"Are you sure I can't convince you?" I asked in a playful voice.
He smiled at me and ran his thumb against my bottom lip. "I find you very appealing, but no." He pushed a lock of hair out my face. "I would like to take you to a nice dinner first." He kissed the tip of my nose. I sighed in assent and we left.
He led me to his car with his hand at the small of my back. I could hardly walk with him touching me. When I wanted to launch myself at him the way I did. I sat down in the sumptuous leather, sure it must be a fancy jacket and not a car. "Do you like Italian?" He asked as he started the car.
"Funny of you to ask ten minutes before the reservation." My tone scolded him, but I smiled and arched a brow.
He smiled back at me. "I guess I'm used to having my way."
"I can't imagine why." My eyes rolled.
"You speak like someone who knows me well." His tone implied an enigma.
"I know a bit about you. Perhaps, more than you think." He didn't answer me. About a minute later we pulled up in front of a quaint restaurant with twinkle lights in the bushes and posh angular lamps. Scrolling Italian words hung above the door. He hopped out and opened the door for me. I blushed a little bit, still unused to his behavior.
He took my hand in his. "They do an excellent risotto here."
When we walked in the maître d ran over to us with almost comical exuberance. "Mr. Harris, we have your table ready for you. "Mr. Harris" slipped a bill into his hand. I did my best not to laugh or make a comment as he took us to an intimate table in the corner. They'd set out a bottle of wine with two glasses poured.
"Mr. Harris" pulled out my chair for me. "Such a gentleman, Mr. Harris." I raised my eyebrows at him.
He gave me a serious look as he sat down across from me. "You look like the cat who swallowed the canary, Claire. What secrets do you have?"
"I don't know what you mean." My innocence even sounded phony to me.
His hand came out of nowhere and squeezed down on my thigh above my knee. His hand held me firm, without causing pain. Although, his hand touched nowhere near anything sexual it excited me. "Tell the truth."
"You have a lot of nerve to handle a lady that way, Mr. Sharp." His hand jerked back from my knee. He stared at me with a look so serious I almost wanted to laugh. What did he think was coming? He looked like he waited for an explosion. "You wanted to know." I prompted him.
"Uhm, and you, uhm..." His blathering endeared him to me. I couldn't help but smile at him.
"Still want to fuck you? Yes, I do. Why are you acting so weird?" I laughed out loud. His behavior mystified me. He usually stayed so composed.
"Don't say that name again, okay?" His voice came out low.
"I suppose so, but why?"
"The name doesn't gain me any popularity if you can believe it." His eyes darted nervously around the room.
"I won't repeat the name if you're so bothered." My eyes followed his trying to figure out what he sought.
"I appreciate that." He looked like the thought that would end the conversation.
"But I need some answers from you." My voice sounded more confident than I felt.
"You're demanding, aren't you?"
"Yes, and pushy, and a variety of other things." My eyes flirted with him.
"Can your answers wait until later? Especially considering you seemed to uncover most of them in your sleuthing." I smiled and nodded.
We both picked up our menus then. I took a sip of my wine, red and delicious. "Why does the staff always know you?"
"I tip well."
"I suppose that would help. You would be amazed how many of my problems could be solved with a couple o
f your good tips." I made a suggestive motion toward his pants.
He took a sip of his wine before answering me. "You have no idea."
I decided to order the risotto he suggested. The dish sounded wonderful. He ordered the roasted chicken and asked for a glass of pinot grigio. "If you wanted white why did you order red?" I nodded toward the bottle at the edge of the table.
He smiled at me. "I hoped you would have the risotto and they pair well." He shrugged, boyish and adorable.
"I think you may be too aware of your good looks and charm."
"Who me?"
I looked deep into his mischievous eyes. Too deep they started pulling me in. "Yes, you."
He instantly knew that the temperature between us changed. I squirmed as he bit the inside of his lip.
"I think you may be too aware of your good looks and charm, Claire." His eyes slid from my face, down my body.
"Who me?" I brushed my hands against my waist like I smoothed my dress. In reality I drew attention to my thin waist and swaying curves. He gave me a look that told me he had not been fooled.
"I think you know exactly how sexy you are." His voice sounded husky.
He spoke directly to my libido. "No." I shook my head. I ran my tongue along my lower lip and bit the plump edge. "I know you want me. In this situation my opinion of myself is irrelevant. I have power because you think I do."
He considered my words. "It's true that I'm very attracted to you. That gives you a certain power over me. You're attracted to me too. So, we both have a little of that. It always matters what you think of yourself. I care what you think of yourself."
I took his words in, surprised by them. "You're not usually sweet." I spoke quiet and emotional.
"I'm not being sweet. I'm being honest." The waiter returned with our food. He dropped it off and we fell into silence for a few moments as we ate. I liked the way we could sit in quiet like this. It was comfortable and easy. I looked him over stunned again by his sexiness. I found his leg with my foot and slid my ankle up it.
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