by M Never
I stand alone in the bathroom with my wet clothes hanging on the towel rack. I really wanted to wear that outfit. My entire ‘be sexy’ plan has gone right out the window. At least I still have my boots.
“Okay, turn around and look at me,” CJ requests.
When I turn, I see he’s holding a plastic plumeria flower. A lump actually forms in my throat.
“You kept it.”
He nods as he clips it in my hair. “There. Perfect.”
I glance in the mirror to see he placed it right next to my bun; the same place I wore it when I pulled my hair up. I don’t know how to respond honestly. It’s such a small gesture but says so much.
“Ready?” CJ takes my hand.
“I am.” I clear my throat and rein in my emotions. This is temporary, I remind myself. Temporary.
I pull my boots on by the door before CJ helps me into my coat. As soon as the door closes behind us, CJ curses under his breath as he feels around the breast of his jacket.
“Hang on.” He goes back inside and then returns a few seconds later holding his pocket watch. “You’d think after twenty some odd years, I would stop forgetting it.” He slips the silver watch into the inside pocket of his coat.
“You’d think.” I laugh. “What’s the deal with it, anyway? You don’t come across many men who sport pocket watches these days.”
CJ shrugs as we walk toward the elevator. “Sentimental value. My grandfather gave it to me when I was a kid.” He hits the button. “He basically raised me.” The elevator door dings open, and we step inside.
“Oh?”
“My parents divorced when I was seven. It was pretty nasty. My father left us with essentially nothing. My mother was devastated.” CJ looks down and rubs his jaw. “We went to live with my grandfather after that. He was ex-military, very rigid, but an amazing man. I idolized him growing up.”
“Is that how you ended up in the military?” I ask intrigued.
“Yes.” CJ pulls me into his arms. “He was a very big influence in my life. He gave me the pocket watch shortly after I moved in. The transition was really hard. Especially seeing what my mother was going through. He explained certain things to me, like why I was upset and angry all at the same time. It felt like one minute, I wanted to punch something, and the next, I wanted to cry.”
“Too many grown-up emotions for one little boy.”
“It was exactly that. And I was constantly asking if he was going to leave us, too.”
My heart nearly breaks.
“What did he say?”
CJ smiles. “He told me grandpas don’t leave. Then he gave me the watch. It was like a security blanket. His promise to always be there. He told me his grandfather gave it to him, and now, it was my turn to have it.”
The elevator doors open to the lobby. CJ takes my hand without skipping a beat and keeps talking.
“I bring it everywhere, and yet, I manage to forget about it half the time.”
“Quite the predicament.”
“It is.” We walk out into the brisk December air and wait on the sidewalk for several seconds before a black Town Car pulls up and we are ushered inside. Talk about service.
CJ gives the address to the driver, and he pulls out right into the middle of midday traffic. A horn blows but none of us pay any mind.
“Your grandfather sounds like a wonderful man.”
“He was.” CJ relaxes into the leather seat.
“Was?” I frown.
“He passed. A few years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.” He halfheartedly smiles. “Tis life.”
“Sometimes life sucks.”
“Sometimes it doesn’t.” He nestles me up against him. I feel like I’m sixteen years old crushing on the hot college guy giving me attention. We kiss like crazy adolescents in the backseat the whole way. The driver actually has to clear his throat to get our attention when we arrive.
I wasn’t really paying attention to the address CJ gave the driver, so when I step out of the car on Fifth Avenue, I look around confused.
“I thought we were going to a museum?”
“We are.” CJ slams the car door shut then spins me around. I gaze across the street.
“The Museum of Sex?” I raise my eyebrows and read the metal sign. Above it, in a large window, reads KINK in hot pink letters.
“The Met seemed too stuffy.” He snatches my hand and drags me across the street.
Only CJ. What did I tell you? Twelve-year-old in a man’s body.
“Can you hang out for a second?” he asks once we are inside. “I need to use the bathroom.”
I raise an eyebrow speculatively at him.
“I need to pee,” he clarifies immediately. “Unless you want to come with me and watch?” he suggests. “I believe it’s your turn.”
“No, thanks. As enticing as that sounds, I’d rather let the anticipation build.”
“Suit yourself. I’ll be right back.” He disappears into a doorway that says bathrooms overhead.
CJ returns a few minutes later with his phone to his ear. “Yeah, whatever. Just make it fast . . .” is all I hear before he hangs up.
“Everything okay?”
“Perfect. Let’s go.” Again, he takes my hand. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to take advantage of every second. His bathroom break was the farthest we’ve been apart since the shower.
As soon as we enter the museum, there’s a large sign that reads Please do not touch, lick, stroke, or mount the exhibits. I cast a sideways glance over at CJ.
“I promise to behave.” He jiggles my hand and leads the way.
This is going to be an . . . experience.
Inside, there is everything from a vibrator collection to the history of the condom to Sex and the Moving Image, which is basically just porn. Interesting stuff and surprisingly not as distasteful or seedy as I was expecting. CJ reads the descriptions of each exhibit aloud, exaggerating words. He’s being serious and goofy all at the same time, causing me to laugh like an entertained child. The animal exhibit is the most intriguing and unexpectedly educational. I now know what a duck penis looks like. Want a visual? Think lower intestines.
CJ tilts his head as we inspect a replica of a deer threesome. Yes, you read that right. One deer mounted on top of the other.
“You suppose that’s three males or female/male/male?” he actually asks this seriously.
“I’m assuming female/male/male.” I mimic his head tilt. “Since the one on the bottom has no antlers.”
CJ leans over to inspect their heads. “Good call, shortcake. I didn’t even think to look at that.” He laughs highly amused.
Toward the end of our visit, we come upon the BDSM area of the museum. An entire room filled with sex toys and bondage furniture, complete with leather-clad hooded Dom and collared submissive. I examine the two wax people in fascination, the woman much more than the man.
“Submission not your thing?” CJ asks, clearly reading my facial expression.
“I can’t say that it is, although I’ve never actually tried it. I don’t mind a little dominance, but like hell someone is going to slap a collar around my neck and call me pet.”
CJ snorts. “Your sister doesn’t seem to mind it.”
I whip my head over to look at him.
“Oh, come on, Tara. You didn’t know? It’s so freakin’ obvious.”
I stare at CJ, mulling over my response. “I had an idea. I mean she wears that choker everywhere. Even to bed. It’s strange, and I have wondered, but I never asked. That’s her business. It does bug me how possessive Kayne is sometimes. It’s like she went and married a clone of our father.”
“Kayne can be a total hothead sometimes and a bit possessive, but I can tell you, it’s your sister who calls the shots in that relationship.”
“Sometimes I wonder.”
“Don’t. She may wear the collar, but she also holds the leash.”
I smile. CJ divulging
that actually makes me feel better. I love Kayne, don’t get me wrong, and I don’t see anything wrong with the lifestyle. I just don’t want my sister to lose herself because of her controlling husband.
“Can I tell you a secret?” CJ asks.
“I love secrets.” I look up at him and bat my eyelashes.
He leans into me and speaks low. “I’m not so much into the submissive thing either, but the collar sort of turns me on.”
“Oh, yeah?” I arch an eyebrow. “I think you would look adorable in rhinestones.” I ruffle the lapel of his pea coat and then walk away.
Onto the next exhibit!
Our last stop is the gift shop. It’s chock-full of sex toys, a million different condoms, and everyday items that have been randomly sexualized—socks, pillows, and hand sanitizer to name a few. My personal favorite, the dishtowel that doubles as a cum rag.
I see CJ looking through a shiny gold bag across the room. It must have something he wants because I also watch him buy it.
“Souvenir?” I ask as we meet each other in the middle of the store.
“An interactive one.” He smiles so brightly it actually makes me nervous. I can’t even begin to imagine what’s in that bag.
“Do I even want to know?” I ask.
“I’ll show you later, if, and only if, you’re a very good girl.”
I stare up at him. I both love and hate the way that sounds.
“Hungry?” He grabs my hand. “I have been dying for a good slice of pizza all day. You don’t realize how much you miss it until you can’t get it.”
“I would rather know what’s in the bag.”
“All in good time, shortcake. All in good time.”
We find a tiny pizza place a few blocks down. We order at the counter, and then grab a seat in the corner. The place literally has five tables.
“What else is on the agenda for today?” I ask as our pizza is dropped in front of us.
“I thought we would go back to the hotel, hang out for a while, then catch a show and a late dinner. What do you think?” CJ takes a bite of the steaming hot slice and nearly burns his mouth.
“I think you need to blow on your food before you eat it.” I giggle.
“Nah. I like it hot.” He takes another bite, sucking in air as he does. A suggestive look in his eyes.
Don’t I know it . . .
I’M FEELING BOTH TIRED AND wired once we get back to CJ’s hotel room. I lean back against him in the crowded elevator, and he expels a moan only I can hear, pressing his semi-hard erection into my back. Our little excursion must have affected him. I know it affected me. I blame the porn and the fact I am hard up for him every single second. I swear I’m like a bitch in heat.
Once inside the room, I try to pull it together and distract myself by looking out the window in the living room and not directly at CJ. The view really is incredible at any given time of the day.
“Tara!” CJ calls from the bedroom.
Oh shit, here we go. I walk into the other room fully prepared to be pounced on, but I find a surprise instead. On the bed are three large silver boxes stacked together with a gold bow tied around them. I glance over at CJ confused.
“They’re for you,” he confirms with a conniving grin.
“For me? You didn’t have to buy me anything.”
“I know. I also know that I own you this weekend, and I can do whatever I damn well please. That was the arrangement, correct?”
“It was,” I confirm.
“Good. Now, accept my gifts graciously.” He saunters up beside me, snakes one arm around my waist, and grabs my chin gingerly with his hand.
“Thank you,” I utter softly, my face tilted up.
“You’re welcome.” He drops a kiss on my lips. “You might make a halfway decent submissive after all.”
I glare at him.
“You know, if I was into that stuff,” he tacks on before he releases me so I can open the boxes. I feel a little guilty and a little giddy. He really doesn’t need to buy me anything. I know he’s wealthy, and he never let me pay for a thing when we were together in Hawaii, but still, it’s a pride thing I guess. I tear open the first box and find a mound of tissue paper stuffed inside. After rummaging through it all, I pull out a black cape coat with gray fur lining.
“Is this real?” I run my hand over the softest fuzz I have ever felt.
“It is but don’t tell. We don’t want to piss PETA off.” He winks.
“I can’t accept this.” I push the coat toward him.
“You can, and you will.” He grabs my wrists. “Come on, Tara. Let me spoil you.”
“I don’t need to be spoiled,” I argue.
“Every woman needs to be spoiled,” he contests. “And I have never wanted to spoil anyone until you.”
I freeze. Actually, we both do, together realizing the depth of his statement.
“Please,” he implores, pulling me closer. “Let’s not get caught up in rights and wrongs and propers and impropers. Let’s just let it be what it is.”
“A fantasy,” I answer him.
CJ nods.
I can do that. Because that’s really all this weekend is. A fantasy.
Two people pretending.
Pretending they can be together.
Pretending they aren’t ages apart or have oceans between them. I lean forward and kiss him, letting go of all of my reservations. He wants this and so do I.
I continue on to the second box; again, a sea of tissue paper conceals the contents. I pull out a cream sweater dress very similar to the one I wore last night, except this one is way nicer and much softer.
“Is this cashmere?” I almost rub the material all over my face, but I refrain only because I don’t want to get makeup on it.
“I believe so.” CJ rubs a piece of the sleeve between his fingers.
“I could come.” I moan, reveling in the softness.
“I would advise against it. You may ruin the material,” he jokes. “Besides, that is reserved solely for me.” He stands behind me and pulls the last box directly in front of me. It’s rectangular and much larger than the other two. I pull off the top to reveal a pair of cognac leather boots with a red sole. Holy shit, they’re Christian Louboutin’s.
“These are my favorite.” CJ removes one, and I run my hand over the buttery leather.
“I guess my outfit made an impression.” I turn my head and look at him through the corner of my eye.
“It sure as hell did.” He leans in closer and lowers his voice to an indulgent rumble. “And I plan to fuck you in these the same way I fucked you in the other ones.”
I actually clench my thighs as the lust in his tone vibrates straight to my core.
“Anytime, anywhere, any way,” I reiterate.
“I would say right fucking now,” he growls, “but I really want to take you out.” I can feel his struggle pressing into my backside. “So I’m going to walk out of here before I bend you over and ruin all our plans.”
“Would that be so bad?” I tempt him.
He groans. “Yes. Get changed.” With a swat on my butt, he leaves the bedroom. As soon as he’s gone, I jog in place like a giddy teenager. I just got spoiled big time, and even though I won’t admit it out loud, I love it.
I change quickly, slipping into the dress, and then touch up my makeup, making it a bit more dramatic for an evening look. When I emerge from the bathroom, I find CJ has changed into a dark red dress shirt and black blazer. It’s such a stark difference to his wardrobe in Hawaii, which consisted mostly of Hawaiian shirts and khaki shorts. I can’t decide which version I like better.
He doesn’t waste a second putting his hands all over me, caressing the soft material hugging my curves. “Fuck, you look hot.”
“I’m glad you approve. You outfitted me.”
“I do approve. And I only sort of outfitted you.” He winces cutely. “I don’t know anything about women’s fashion except what I like.”
“So where did th
e clothes come from?”
“I called Jett.”
“Is that who you were talking to in the bathroom?”
“Guilty. I sort of felt bad soaking your clothes in the shower this morning. I knew if anyone could help me out with fashion, he could.”
“He did a great job on such short notice. If I didn’t know he was married, I’d swear he was gay.”
“He’s definitely not gay. Jett loves pussy just as much as the next guy,” CJ says bluntly.
“You have a very naughty mouth.” I press my body against his.
“I know.” He slides one hand down to my ass and squeezes. “I also know you love it, especially when I’m whispering sweet naughty nothings in your ear while I fuck you.” He doesn’t allow me a response as he plunges his tongue between my lips. The kiss is so hot I’m surprised it doesn’t set off the fire alarm. By the time we separate, I’m panting and wet.
“Let’s go.” CJ adjusts himself before he grabs my new coat off the bed. “Before we never make it out of the bedroom.”
“You’re very disciplined.” I giggle.
“I am.” CJ leers back at me. “And by the end of the night, you will be, too.”
“What does that mean?” I ask as he helps me into my coat and leads me out of the room.
“You’ll see.” He grabs his jacket off the arm of the couch before ushering me to the door. Do I even want to know what he means by that? As soon as the door slams behind us, he curses.
“Hang on.” Back inside he goes. I think I know what he forgot. My suspicions are confirmed when he returns holding his silver pocket watch. I take a closer look as he turns it over in his hand as if he’s playing with a coin. It looks antique, like a piece straight out of the roaring twenties.
“Maybe you should try keeping it in the same place so you don’t forget it.”
“Maybe.” He sighs, placing it in his inside pocket. “Maybe I’m just doomed to always forget it.” He rolls his eyes and starts for the elevator. Just like before, we are whisked downstairs and then outside to a waiting car.
Once out of the cold and inside the warm backseat, I snuggle up next to him.
“What show are we going to see?”
“It’s a surprise.” The car pulls out without CJ telling him an address.