Making a Scene

by Trudy Doyle

  He’s apologizing? “No, Roark—”

  “Please, let me finish.” He sighs, looking down at the floor. “I guess I went a little nuts. But when you…” He looks up abruptly. “But when you slid down that banister and it sunk in what almost happened— Pam, if it did happen, if by my stupidity I allowed it to, I don’t know… I just couldn’t handle it.”

  “Roark—” I start to get up but he holds out a hand, telling me to stay put, and I settle back, letting him continue.

  “Anyway,” he says, “I’m not excusing myself for going all animal on you. It was stupid and I can’t apologize enough. But the thought of something happening to you just made me want you even more, and let me tell you,” his eyes darken, “I’ve been wanting you since the second I saw you.”

  I swallow. Hard. “Really?”

  “So badly I would’ve bent you over the counter that first morning if I didn’t have a line going out the door.”

  “I see.” I couldn’t help but smile. “A capitalist first.”

  He lifts a brow, grinning. “Well, let’s be practical. Anyway…” He waves me off. “Please realize I never, ever have sex without a condom, not since my wife, at least. And I haven’t had sex since I had a blood screen last month. I’d just come back from a fishing trip to Belize, and a couple of us on the trip got pretty sick from going in the jungle, so I made them test me for everything from dengue fever to toenail fungus. If I had something they would’ve told me, so I’m reasonably sure you’re safe.” He looks askance a second. “Okay, that takes care of that. Now because we didn’t use a… Well, maybe you’re thinking that—”

  “Roark, now I am going to interrupt. Look, I never have sex without a condom either. Especially with that walking boil I just kicked out of my house. But…” Come on, Scarlett, get to the point. “But I’m not on anything else either. At least I wasn’t last night.”

  Anything else needs no explanation. “You’re not?”

  “Well, I do have a diaphragm, but I really didn’t have time to put it in, did I?”

  He blanches, scraping his forehead. “Fuck, Pam, I am so sorry—”

  “Don’t be,” I say, going to him. “Because I wanted you pretty badly too, and I’m not apologizing for anything.”

  He takes my hands in his, kissing my fingers. “But what if you end up pregnant? How would you feel about that?”

  Should I tell him what I decided on last night, the end result of my hours of mental dissection? “Let me put it this way,” I say, moving into the vee of his legs. “I could’ve gone down to the corner pharmacy first thing this morning and picked up a morning-after kit, but I didn’t. I wanted to come see you first.”

  “Why?” he asks, as if amazed. “It’s your decision to make, not mine.”

  I loop my arms around his neck. “Weren’t you the one who said it also happened to you? Well then listen, Roark. I’m thirty-nine years old. If it happens, it happens. And even though I’ve only known you a very short time, I can’t imagine anyone else I’d rather have it happen with. But all you have to do is say the word, and I’ll go down the corner, no further discussion, no looking back.”

  He’s staring at me, truly stunned. It was quite a choice to toss at him, and maybe it wasn’t really fair. But this morning I’d done a fair amount of thinking, and I figured, what better way to gauge the true character of a man than his reaction to a truly impossible situation? His answer would have to speak volumes.

  Not a minute passes before this big man wraps his arms around me and pulls me to him. “Don’t,” he says. “That is, if you want to.”

  “I don’t. I mean—I do. That I don’t. Oh hell.” I shake my head. “Just kiss me.”

  And boy does he ever. If happiness has a scent he’s awash in it, making me want him more than ever. Before long one hand’s slipping up his shirt while the other’s sliding his zipper down.

  “I’ve decided what I want for breakfast,” I say.

  “Really,” he says. “And dessert too?”

  “Got a full course right here,” I say, and he leans back on the desk, the enormity of that statement becoming apparent. Last night it was dark and he was behind me. But in the light of day I can see for myself what I suspected. I spread open his fly and out pops the most massive cock I have ever had the extreme pleasure to behold. And hold in my greedy little hands.

  I wrap my fingers around the base of his fully erect shaft. “Damn,” I breathe, “you’re freaking huge.”

  He grins. “And all yours, baby.”

  I loll my tongue around the silken head before sucking it into my mouth. Then my lips tighten and it’s lollipop time.

  “Ahhh,” he utters, grabbing the edge of the desk as my head bobs in his lap. I gather his balls in my hand and play the cutest game of ping-pong before he stiffens, his hands on my shoulders. “Okay—stop.”

  “Why?” I ask innocently, licking his cock, base to tip.

  “B-because suddenly I have the most uncommon urge to fuck you blind.”

  “I, umm…” I take a ball in my mouth, suck. “Oh…” My head pops up. “All right.”

  “Get up here,” he growls, grabbing me by the waist and lifting me atop the desk. When he has me on my back, he reaches under my skirt and slowly works my panties off, licking and kissing his way down my legs as he rolls my thigh highs down.

  I’m so wet I can’t stand it. “Stop it,” I groan, pushing his head away. “I don’t want you to tease me. I want you to fuck me.”

  He spreads my legs, flicking his tongue against my swollen clit. I buck against his mouth, but as wonderful as it feels, I want his cock inside me. “Roark…please fuck me.”

  He takes my clit in his mouth, sucks it hard, giving it one more flick—nearly sending me through the roof—before he rises. “All right,” he says, my exposed nether region painfully throbbing. “I think I have some condoms—”

  “No,” I say, sliding up until my vagina meets the glistening head of his cock. He takes one look and rams it inside me. I grunt from the impact and he starts to move, each stroke a tiny climax.

  “I-I won’t last long,” he says, pounding me. “You feel so good it’s all I can do to—dammit!” He starts to pull out.

  I grab his ass, pushing him back in. “Come in me,” I say, biting his neck. “I came prepared this time.”

  “Your diaphragm?”

  I tighten around him; he sucks back a breath. “Locked and loaded.”

  “Baby, you are so in for it.” He slips his hands under my bottom and his glorious cock fills me to the brink. I wrap my legs around his waist and lean up on my elbows, watching his huge dick slide in and out of me. It doesn’t take much before my hips start bucking against him, especially with his fingers finding my clit. He starts to stroke and twist. Within seconds I feel myself tighten and I throw my head back, letting that glorious cock roll me over the edge. Seeing me come, he leans back against my crossed ankles and pumps me one, two, three, four times and suddenly he’s coming too, growling, “Pam…Pam…Pam!” filling me to overflowing. After a few moments, he falls against me, breathlessly kissing my cheek.

  “God…damn…” he wheezes, his mouth sliding atop mine. We kiss, still joined. “You’re magnificent.”

  I’m beyond flattered. “No kidding? I kind of enjoy your company too, I must say.”

  He laughs throatily, kissing me again. “Meet me in New York tomorrow.”

  “But I thought you have that coffee thing,” I say, my finger spinning little circles on his ass.

  “That’s over by four. I’ll keep the room for the whole weekend.” He brushes his nose against mine. “Then we can try something adventurous. Like fucking in a bed.”

  “Hmm…how avant garde, let me think about it.” I pretend to as we take a minute or two to collect our breaths, while I’m inwardly shaking a bit with the prospect of being in a bed the first time in two weeks. Finally I say, “You know, this is really kind of coincidental. Saturday night a friend of mine is having a boo
k party in the Village.”

  He cocks a brow, grinning wickedly. “The Village, huh?”

  I pinch his ass. “Ooh, you’re such a cock tease. You’ll drive all the fellas crazy.”

  “Like you’re driving me,” he says, stretching my arms over my head as I feel him once again hardening inside me. “Jesus, I can’t get enough of you.”

  It’s so much sweeter this time, just as slow and easy as one can get atop a desk, our orgasms rocking us like waves lapping the shore. Before long his jeans are zipped and my skirt is fluttering back atop my boots and he’s feeding me freezing cold crepes that incidentally, never tasted better. And then I’m standing at the door, kissing him goodbye.

  “I’ll send a car for you, around three,” he says.

  “Roark, I can take the train and the bus, no problem.”

  He kisses my neck. “Baby, I want you arriving stress-free and not reeking of diesel exhaust, if you don’t mind, okay?”

  “Sure,” I say, melting. He kisses me again and the next thing you know, I’m out the door. And walking down the sidewalk with a severe case of separation anxiety.

  But as happy as a clam. Roark in a bed in New York. Oh my. And don’t fret, Renee, it’ll still be work. Research, sister. With a capital R.

  Matter of fact, it’s what I’ve been doing for the last twelve hours, so it’s got to launch me into something. As I turn the corner for my flat I’m truly looking forward to a session at the old laptop. Tanaka and Shields, brace yourself—it’s gonna be one hot afternoon. And then I see him.

  “Well, hello, Pammy,” Josh says, rising from my stoop.

  Chapter Eight

  See, the thing that really kills me about Josh gracing my doorstep is not that he’s there, because like an IRS audit, he was bound to arrive sooner or later. It’s the fact he’s playing so to type it’s almost cliché. I mean, the guy screws my friend in my own bed, so you’d think he’d take it down a notch the next time I see him, maybe even act a little contrite. But this is Josh we’re talking about. So not only does he show up with my ex-friend Karen latched on, he’s got the gonads to be sporting a spare.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I mean, really, talk about an ax to my afterglow.

  The floozies rise with him and he shuffles toward me, hands upturned. To her credit the other chick looks a little too classy for the likes of Josh, and even a bit repulsed. “What do you think, Pammy? I missed you.”

  “And I missed you like a canker sore. What do you want?”

  “Aw come on,” Karen says from alongside him, “be nice. We came here in good faith.”

  I direct this at Josh, ignoring her. “I know you’re here after something because most likely you’re out on the street, but guess what?” I stomp the sidewalk. “Even the street is on to you.” I brush past them, heading toward my stoop.

  “You’re wrong,” Josh says. “Actually, this time I’ve got something for you.” He looks to the too-classy chick. “How about it, Allison.”

  She steps forward and hands me an envelope. “Consider yourself served,” she says, then turns and briskly walks off.

  I turn it over. Superior Court of New Jersey, it says, Summons for Civil Action. “You’ve got to be kidding! You’re suing me?”

  He cocks his head. “I told you, but you wouldn’t listen.” He leans in, a snarl to his lip. “Now you’ll have to. Come on,” he says to Karen, and she follows, smiling smugly.

  “Big mistake, Josh!” I call after him. “When I get through with you you’ll be even more of a loser than you are now!”

  “I’ll take my chances,” he says over his shoulder, Karen slapping his arm as she laughs along with him.

  I simply cannot believe what just happened to me. I open the writ, scanning it. Intellectual property theft…mental anguish…compensatory damages. I want to smack myself. Maybe I should’ve taken him seriously the first time he mentioned it as, after all, Karen is a court reporter. I drop to my stoop, pull out my cell and call Renee.

  “Pammy!” she answers on the first ring. “You’re finished! I guess you really want to make that party!”

  “Cut the comedy, Renee, I’ve got a big problem. Josh is suing me for intellectual property theft. I have the summons right here in my hands.”

  The silence on the other end means the gears of Renee’s fertile mind have begun to spin. Because even though she’s been a pain in my ass lately, she’s not only one of the savviest literary agents in the industry, she also an entertainment law attorney. “Okay, give me the gist.”

  I do, reading her the first few paras of legalese. “What do you think?”

  “It doesn’t sound like much, but you tell me. Does he have a leg?”

  “It’s bullshit, Renee, no kidding.”

  “Then we’ll make it go away. Send it up to me and I’ll take it from there.”

  I’m already walking toward Leslie’s shop. “You’ll have it in twenty minutes. Thank you. I sincerely mean it.”

  “You just get back to work, that’s all that matters. Don’t let this little shit put you off your game. Bloodsuckers like him are all part of the territory, sweetie, and let me tell you, the more you climb the ladder, the worse they get. And you are going to the top, Pammy, you’re that good. You’ll just have to watch your back double from now on. If you can count all the people you can trust on one hand, then you can consider yourself very lucky. See you at Malcolm’s tomorrow night?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Good girl. Now scan that thing and send it up to me, and get back to cases. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. Bye.”

  “Bye.” For all my bitching, I really do love that woman. I hang up and call Leslie.

  “Pam! What’s up?”

  “I need you to scan something for me. I think you’ll be interested in what it is.”

  “I’ll be right downstairs. Where are you?”

  “Just turning the corner. Hurry up.” Leslie lives just over her print and copy shop, so she meets me at the door in one minute flat.

  “What’s going on?” she asks, looking perky even in jeans and a t-shirt as we zip past customers and employees and the hum of working machines. When we stop at a scanner I proffer the summons. “Oh my God, where’d that come from?”

  “A present from Josh. He’s accusing me of intellectual property theft. Can you believe it?”

  “So what’re you going to counter with, blatant sycophancy? The man’s a stain on society. Give me that.” She takes the summons, her eyes narrowing as she gives it a quick perusal before spreading it on a scanner. After it’s off to Renee, Leslie turns to me, arms crossed. “Now what?”

  “Renee told me she’ll take care of it, so for now, I’ll just wait and see. What else can I do?”

  “Well, I know a couple of guys from South Philly who’d be happy to— Holy crap! What’s that?” Her eyes widen as she taps the side of my neck.

  I can feel myself flush. “Oh. That.” I readjust my turtleneck. “I, uh…” How can I possibly put this? “I kind of had a date last night.”

  She raises a brow. “From the look of your neck, it appears a little more than that. Or has my boring married life left me seriously out of the loop?”

  I touch the spot. It hasn’t even been a half hour since I left Roark and I can still feel his lips on my skin. “Listen, this is as big a surprise to me as it is to you.”

  “All right.” She crosses her arms. “Who is he?”

  I laugh, looking over my shoulder, feeling like a high schooler as I whisper, “Remember that guy Roark? Owns that coffee shop, Serious Joe?”

  Her jaw drops. “The Italian Stallion? Holy cow, Pam, you don’t fuck around, do you?”

  “Actually…” A slow smile spreads across my face. “I do.”

  “Jeez,” she says, looking truly amazed. “That man is beyond gorgeous. Well, then I guess you truly don’t have anything to worry about. If Josh starts dogging you again, Roark could crush him like a bug. You seeing him tonight?
”

  “As we speak he’s leaving for New York for a trade show.”

  “And don’t you have that book thing up there tomorrow night?”

  I smile. “Yeah. How convenient is that, huh?”

  “I’d say extremely. So you like this guy?”

  Right there is the big difference between males and females. A guy would ask a friend mostly about the physical, where a woman would focus mainly on the emotional. As far as I’m concerned the physical is one ginormous given. The emotional, now that’s where it gets a little sticky. Yet my answer is more or less the same.

  “Oh yeah, Les. Absolutely.” Which only makes me smile wider. How good it feels to say it out loud!

  “Call me when you get back,” she says. And I promise to, leaving.

  Suddenly I’m faced with a very long afternoon stretching into an equally interminable night. But it’s not like I don’t have anything to do. When I’m back at my flat I strip down and jump in the shower, Roark, in a sense, very much with me. Between screwing last night in the train shelter and this morning—twice!—on his desk, it isn’t surprising that I’m a bit…well, sensitive in a certain nether region. But oh, what sweet agony. This morning, we somehow reached an unspoken agreement to leave the condoms in the box, not that they ever came out to begin with, which means I’ll have to leave the diaphragm in for a couple more hours. So as I check its position, slipping my fingers inside me, they come out with the milky remainders of Roark’s climaxes, sending me on the road to one of my own.

  I brace my feet and lean back against the wall, the raining water glistening my breasts, my belly, my soap-slickened fingers tracing circles around my throbbing clit. It occurs to me that outside of his beautifully massive cock, I’ve yet to see him naked, and visions of his ripped body float into my head—his hardened chest, his muscled arms, his rippled abs. I recall the feel of his taut ass in my hands this morning, picture it tightening as his cock drives into me, relaxing as my fingertips smooth his heated skin.

  I slip my fingers in and imagine it’s Roark, his mouth on mine, his hands kneading my breasts, and suddenly I’m coming, the memory of his hooded, dark eyes sliding me home. I sigh, sagging against the shower wall, blissfully sated. And then all at once, a realization rocks me.