Mountain Man's Valentine

by Lauren Milson

  But I can see it. I saw it a mile away.

  “Dan here will take good care of you,” Charlie says to my girl. “You need anything? Coffee? Water?”

  “Oh, no thank you!” my girl chirps. “I’m good.”

  “Miss, thank you for coming to our bank today,” I say, reaching out my hand to shake hers.

  Her soft, small hand juts out from the cutest, most delicate wrist I’ve ever seen.

  “Thank you! I was just telling Charlie that I got a new job and I need my checking account number to fill out my direct deposit form.”

  She opens her folder to show me an array of paperwork.

  “We’re here to help you in any way we can. Please,” I say, “follow me to my office. We’ll get you all set up.”

  3

  Julie

  Okay, so that was a little bit weird.

  I think I literally gasped when I saw this guy. I hope he didn’t hear me.

  At first I thought he was a customer. He went over to the deposit slips and I thought he was going to grab one to fill out.

  He looked rich, actually. He was wearing this expensive-smelling cologne and his suit was sharp. I read in an article recently that strong shoulders are the sign of a good suit. And he had them.

  Strong. Broad. Muscular, but kind of slim at the same time. Like he worked out. Like he was used to lifting up his shirt when he’s out at the bar to show off his abs to the five-foot-nine, beautiful, blonde models he usually hangs out with.

  He just looks arrogant.

  But that’s okay. All I’m doing is looking. It’s not like a guy like that would ever talk to me.

  But then? I realized he works here. He went into the back, and then I could have sworn that he was looking at me through that glass divider they have between the customers and the tellers.

  I almost dropped my folder when I saw him looking at me. Shit. Was he looking at me? Okay. This is the test. You look away. Pretend not to see. Then you look back, and if he’s still looking, then you know he really was looking.

  Crap. Yeah. He was looking.

  And then this lady took me back here.

  I’ve never been on the other side of the glass. How do they know I’m not a security risk? I could be here to steal all the free lollipops that I just know they have stashed away behind the glass.

  It’s the kind of thing where you have to ask for them. They don’t just give them out freely anymore like they used to.

  “I didn’t know that you offered personal service for customers who just need something simple,” I say, following Dan through a dark, plush, brown mahogany hallway to his office.

  “We offer all kinds of services,” he says coolly.

  When we get to his office, I hover in the doorway.

  “Please,” he says, sitting down at the desk. “Come in.”

  “Thank you so much!” I say, trying to sound confident and alright with everything, but my knees are weak and I can’t take what’s going on right now.

  Looking around the office, I wonder whether all local banks have back-room areas like this.

  “You’re very welcome,” he says. “How can we help you today?”

  “Well, I just got this new job. I really just need an account number to provide here on this form,” I say, putting out my direct deposit sheet, “and I wasn’t sure how to get it online. I tried calling, but the automatic answer thing was a little confusing.”

  “Not a problem,” he says, flashing a sexy smile at me. I swear there are cute, boyish dimples under that manly beard.

  That’s another thing. He looked arrogant before, and what is this new thing where every hot guy I’m into has the beard of a guy in a metal band? This is the kind of guy I liked in college, God knows why. I never went to any concerts. I wasn’t a sexy groupie in a short skirt, no matter how much I thought it would be cool to be one. No, I was wearing a cardigan to the library. But I wanted that instead. Long-haired guys, the big beard, the guy who says he doesn’t give a crap and drinks - I don’t know - whiskey? Bourbon? Something brown.

  But now I see that he isn’t so arrogant after all. He wants to help me. He’s just doing his job.

  “You just sit there,” he says, “and let me do everything.”

  For a second I forget I’m in public, and my face goes hot. I know I’m white as a sheet, and I look down and pretend I don’t know where the correct form is to take the focus off me for a second.

  “Here’s the form!” I say, pulling a piece of paper out and waving it in front of me. “Sorry it took a second there!”

  “You seem a little bit nervous, miss,” he says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “First job?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes. There’s just so much stuff here for me to do.”

  “I completely understand,” he says. “When I had my first job, I was nervous too. What is it that you’re going to be doing, miss?”

  “Assistant,” I say, sitting up straight and trying to show a little pride in myself. Trying to rebound from looking like a mess in front of this guy who is making me forget all sense of propriety. But the way he calls me miss. It’s like there’s a little something pulsing in his voice. It’s getting inside my head.

  “Very nice,” he says. “You know, I might be able to think of something to relieve your stress. But first things first. Let me go make a copy of those forms for you so you can keep one and give one to your employer, and then we’ll work on getting you that account number.”

  “Terrific! Thank you!”

  I’m such a dork.

  4

  Dan

  This cannot really be happening.

  I adjust my cock in my pants as this girl’s forms feed through the copier in the mail room.

  It’s only nine fifteen in the morning and already I’m in love. Or lust. Whatever it is, it’s a good thing I’m up against the copier and not talking to some rich client.

  I didn’t even have to try to get her all riled up. She did that all by herself.

  I like a girl who can do that to herself. Means she has a good imagination.

  But I already know that she can’t imagine the things I have planned for her.

  By sheer force of will I demand my cock to go down. It’s not appropriate to have a raging hardon like that at your place of business. Especially not with a client.

  But she’s a special client. Personal client. I’ll make her my number one priority.

  I grab the copies from the machine along with her originals and bring them back to my office. I feel like whistling because I feel so damn good. Even the usual effects of staying up til one in the morning when I have to be at work at nine have been swept away by this girl.

  “Here we are, miss,” I say, slipping back into my office and into my leather chair. The bank is piping in some elevator music, and she’s tapping her toe along with it. “Or should I call you ma’am? After all, you’re the boss here. I work for you. Anything you need.”

  “Oh, um. Just Julie is fine.”

  She’s got her button-down done all the way up to the top button, just under her chin. Her long, elegant neck has a simple string of pearls around it.

  I pull up her account information on my computer. She’s a few years younger than me but our birthdays are in the same month, and she’s had her account for four years. She probably opened it before she went to college. I jot down her account information on the forms and hand both copies back to her.

  “Okay, Julie. I’ve indicated your account number on both sets of forms. Like I mentioned before, I took the liberty of making copies so you’d have everything for your personal records, and of course you have the originals to hand in to your employer.”

  “Wow! Thanks! That was so not necessary,” she says as she starts to get up from her chair.

  “It was my pleasure,” I say, grabbing a business card from its holder and going around to the other side of the desk. “Here. This is my number. I told you before that I know a way to relieve your
stress.”

  Cut it out. Not like that.

  “A drink,” I say. “You’re going to come with me for a drink tonight. When do you start your new job?”

  She looks up at me through her luscious, thick lashes and blinks. Her pupils are wide. My office is a little dark - I like to keep it like that - and the music being piped in, I swear, is an instrumental muzak version of the class R&B song “Sexual Healing.”

  “Not until Monday,” she says, flicking the corner of the business card against one of her perfectly manicured fingernails.

  “Then call me tonight,” I say, stepping toward her. “I get out at five. Banker’s hours.”

  Is that her heart I hear beating, or mine?

  “How do you know I’m going to call you?” she asks sweetly. “Don’t you want my number so you can call me?”

  “Nah. I know you’ll call. Won’t you?”

  “Sure,” she says. “Sure.”

  “Boss?” I say as she turns to leave.

  “Yeah?” she responds, her eyes wide.

  Yes. She wants my dick. I can see the gears in her head turning, imagining what it would be like for me to take her right here. Bend her over the desk, pull her panties down. Put in a little extra work at the office.

  “Come back here and close the door behind you,” I say, leaning back against the edge of my desk.

  “What is it?” she says, tentatively closing the door and retracing her steps back toward me. “Did I mess up my forms? Am I in trouble?”

  She walks up to me slowly, erasing the distance between us with a few steps in her pretty little shoes. She bites her lip. She’s nervous. Or she’s pretending to be.

  Oh, fuck. She’s naughty. She’s bad. She’s playing with me, and I love it. I should just take her right here.

  “In trouble, miss?” I say, grabbing her by waist and pulling her in close. “Not unless you want to be.”

  “Is this...appropriate?” she asks, freezing against me, her chest heaving beneath that little white button-down. I should rip it off with my teeth and put my cock between her lips.

  “Of course this isn’t fucking appropriate,” I say, pulling one of her knees up and pressing my hardon against her. “This is a place of business.”

  I scoop her ass up in my hands and pull her even closer. I can smell the want coming off her. She’s hot for me, and I can barely contain my cock.

  Fuck. She’s chewing on her bottom lip. That’s a surefire sign of a girl with an overactive imagination.

  “Don’t get your panties into a bunch,” I say, sliding my hand along the outside of her perfectly smooth thigh and coming down and around the top of her thigh, landing between her legs. “You think I’m going to fuck you right here? That would be too dirty, even for me.”

  My angel’s breath shudders against my chest and breaks as she presses her hot pussy against my hand.

  “Oh?” I say, drawing my fingers into a circle and finding her wet clit through the soaked fabric. “If you really, really want it, I’ll give it to you. I don’t mind breaking the rules.”

  She closes her eyes and presses her cheek against my chest, pushing her leg against my outer thigh. If there was anything to take me out of the moment right now, it would be a knock at the door or my phone ringing, but as if through a miracle, nothing interrupts us.

  “But baby, if you want me to go any further,” I say softly, rubbing her hard and slow between her legs and tipping her chin up, “you’re going to have to beg.”

  “Beg?” she says, blinking up at me. “I...what the heck am I doing?”

  And just like that, my angel takes her sweet little body away from me and runs out the door.

  To say that I’m left confused and hard as a fucking rock would be the understatement of the century.

  But I’m more hard than I am confused.

  5

  Julie

  I turn the business card over in my hands a few times. It’s nice. I guess I didn’t realize local bank branches give out business cards this fancy.

  So I guess he was a little bit arrogant.

  And helpful.

  And kind.

  And hot.

  And...what the hell was I thinking back there?

  I finally reach the subway, and I realize that I walked here in kind of a blur. Not so great for my personal physical safety, but I can’t stop myself from thinking of him.

  I press my fingertips into the corners of the card.

  Personal Banker

  I’ll say. And the way he told me to just sit there and let him take care of everything? Come on.

  And the way I actually let him touch me like that?

  Oh, jeez.

  I’m surprised by the buzzing of my phone as I’m about to walk down the stairs to get on the subway at 59th Street. It’s my best friend and roommate, and she knows how anxious I was to get all this administrative crap over with.

  “Hey Beth,” I answer. “What’s going on? I’m about to come home.”

  “How’d it go? You get your account number successfully? Were you able to navigate the subway, unlike the byzantine automated phone system the bank has?” she asks, giggling.

  “Yeah. I’m not usually that technologically impaired, but I did it.”

  “Alright, so get your butt home so we can spend the rest of the day on the couch.”

  “Okay. Be home soon.” I start to walk down the steps to the 6 train, but don’t hang up yet. If I get disconnected, fine, but I need to tell her about the lumberjack in the slim suit I just met.

  “Beth?” I say.

  “Yeah. Still here.”

  It sounds like she’s got some morning talk show on in the background and is slurping milk out of her cereal bowl.

  Beth works from home most days. She’s a freelance copywriter, and she and I are pretty much exact opposites.

  Beth likes to stay in. She’s a night owl. She appreciates cold beer and prefers partying at home with a box of Wheaties.

  I like to go out. I’m an early bird, though I haven’t caught many worms, so to speak. I don’t like drinking, and I like cheeseburgers better than cold cereal.

  Oh, and most of all? Let’s just say I’m not very experienced when it comes to guys.

  Which is surprising, considering how much I love going out and meeting people.

  I’m not a prude! I’ve been accused of that on a few occasions, but between having my first kiss at 18 and focusing so much on my studies, the opportunity never arose.

  I guess now I’m making up for lost time by going out and meeting men.

  And this bank guy doesn’t seem like a bad option for just getting it over with.

  “Beth, I’ve got to tell you something.”

  I say a silent prayer to myself for the call to get dropped so I don’t have to tell her yet. I mean, I want to tell her, but it’s a little bit embarrassing that I’m thinking about losing my V-card to some random guy I just grinded against in his place of business.

  I mean, on top of it, he didn’t even take my number! I’d have to make the first move. And that’s not me. Clearly, if I’ve gone this far without doing it, that’s so not me.

  “Tell me what, honey? Everything okay?”

  The sound from the TV in the background goes mute.

  “Oh, yes. Nothing’s wrong. You don’t have to turn off your show for me.”

  “Screw that. What’s up?”

  “It’s not a big deal. Look, I’m going into the subway right now. I might lose you.”

  I carefully walk down the sticky steps in my new low, chunky-heel Mary Janes. Practical and cute, and a throwback to the 90s, my favorite decade.

  “Oh, you forgot to refill your Metrocard again and you have no cash? Just take a cab and I’ll give the guy my card when you get here.”

  “No, no. I have a Metrocard. I think,” I say.

  “Then what is it?”

  “Look. I met a guy. A really hot guy.”

  “Oh! Julie has a boyfriend! But hon, why is
this something that you couldn’t wait to tell me?”

  “Because, I think I have an idea. What if...what if he was the guy?” I ask, rummaging in my bag for the Metrocard I could have sworn I had.

  “The guy?” Beth gasps. “The guy you finally screw? Oh, our Julie is becoming a woman!”

  “Shh! Someone might hear you!” I whisper.

  “Oh, stop. Who? The TV? The neighbors? I’m the only one around. Your secret is safe with me.”

  “Well?” I ask. “What do you think?”

  “I think it’s a fabulous idea. Now get home so we can luxuriate on the couch in our face masks until your special night arrives, and you can tell me all about the lucky guy.”

  “Got it. See you soon.”

  I swipe my card and dash through the turnstile as the 6 train arrives on the Bronx-bound platform. If I don’t hurry, I might get left behind.

  6

  Dan

  I have her number. Got it in my computer. But I won’t call her. Won’t even think about it.

  That’s a lie. I’ll think about calling her. She’d answer on the first ring, throw the phone to her ear and beg me to come over to her place a fuck her senseless. She already knows what I’m working with.

  Maybe she’d even ask what the hell I’d do to her to keep her on edge until I get over to her apartment.

  Nah. She’s a good girl. Even though I called her the boss, she’s too good. She isn’t going to tell me what she wants. I’ll have to know what she wants, and deliver on it. Shouldn’t be too hard, because I already know what that is.

  She wants to be taken care of. She loved the way I took control in here. And she wanted it so bad, but she couldn’t give it to me.

  So I can control myself. That makes it that much more sweet when I finally get inside that tight little pussy of hers. Destroy it. Tear it apart.