I touched his long, slender cock and then ran a hand down the smooth length to fondle his balls. After licking my thumb to get it wet, I stroked the sensitive slit and felt a shudder go through him.
He murmured, “Oh yeah, that’s it, feels so good.”
He stood up to take the rest of his clothes off as I finished undressing and sat naked on the edge of the leather couch. He stood in front of me, one hand in my hair, gripping tightly, and one hand on his cock.
I reached next to me for my jeans and slipped a condom out of my pocket, popping it quickly over his shaft. Impatiently he rubbed his cockhead against my lips. “Just lick it, sweetheart. Lick the head. Lick my balls. Let’s see that tongue.”
Eagerly I ran my tongue up and down his shaft, wanting to pull him into my mouth and swallow him down. But he held my head back, sliding in partway and then withdrawing, teasing, until he twisted my hair in both hands and shoved himself in deep. He started thrusting roughly, fucking my mouth, gasping and moaning. “God, what a mouth. Suck it hard, baby.”
I reached down for my own cock and began jerking off in time to his thrusts. He stiffened and came with a little cry, holding my head against him so tightly I could barely breathe. Finally he withdrew, collapsing onto the couch with his eyes closed. I finished myself off, cum spilling over my hand, and leaned back against the couch, trying to catch my breath.
“Damn. I knew you’d be good at that.”
I sat next to him on the couch and leaned in for a kiss. I like the contact afterward, although some guys don’t. Apparently Keith wasn’t big on cuddling. He gave me a perfunctory kiss and said, “Come on. Let’s go lie down. I need a nap.”
At least he didn’t just call me a cab to go home, I thought a little bitterly, and was surprised at myself. Wasn’t I right where I wanted to be? My dream date come true?
Keith reached out and stroked my hair. “Jamie? You do want to stay awhile, right? I’ll make you glad you did as soon as I recover a bit. I still want to fuck that sweet ass of yours. You want me to, don’t you?”
I smiled at him, feeling a little better. “Sure. Whenever you’re ready.”
He fell asleep pretty quickly in the large, comfortable bed, but I could only doze a little. My buzz was wearing off and being replaced by a slight headache. A couple of hours later, he rolled over and bumped into me. “Ah, Jamie, still here. Good. Look what I woke up with. I was dreaming about that mouth of yours.” He reached over and ran one hand down my back. “That’s nice, so smooth.”
His hand cupped my ass, rubbing it, and I pressed back against him. He reached into a drawer and pulled out lube and a condom. He pushed me onto my stomach and put the pillow under my groin to lift my ass in the air. I heard him rip open the foil packet and then jumped with the sudden shock of cold lube poured into my crack. He laughed. “Sorry. Guess I should have warmed that up.” He shoved two fingers into me to loosen me up, and I winced at the suddenness. “You okay? You ready for me?” Before I could say anything, he was on me, in me, filling me up with the burn. “Oh,” he said. “Damn, that feels good.”
I couldn’t say the same; it was fast and rough, but I bit my lip and gradually felt myself loosen up. After another minute, I relaxed, the steady, thrusting rhythm pushing my hard cock against the pillow. He increased the pace, and I reached down to grip my cock. Panting with the effort, he groaned, “So close, so close,” until he came with a gasp. I gave myself an extra jerk and came too.
We lay there panting until he fell asleep again.
I lay on the rich silken sheets, staring up at the ceiling, and wondered why I felt like more of a whore now than when I’d been on my knees in the alley.
* * *
It was still very early morning, the sun just coming up, when I got a cab home. Keith told me I could stay longer, but I was ready to go, and I think he was ready for me to go. He gave me a hug and told me he’d had a good time and that he wanted to go out again the next Friday. I felt I should be happy about that because it wasn’t just a one-night stand. But somehow I didn’t feel as excited as I thought I should.
Carrying my jacket, my dress shirt unbuttoned, I made my way slowly up to my floor. I knew I looked exactly the way I felt: tired and a little hungover, with the depression that sometimes comes with that morning-after feeling. I could only hope I wouldn’t run into Mrs. Carmichael, out for an early morning dog walk.
The vague sense of disappointment was quickly forgotten as I got off the elevator and felt a jolt of shock go through my chest. Mrs. Carmichael did indeed stand there in the hallway, dressed in a large, quilted, pink housecoat and fuzzy pink slippers. Struggling to control the three little dogs, she tugged on their leashes as they went crazy with excitement, jumping and yapping at the two policemen as they examined my broken door.
I approached slowly, unable to believe it had actually happened to me. I know that apartments get broken into all the time, but no one can ever really prepare for it.
They must have known who I was by the stunned look on my face. One of the policemen said, “Mr. Morgan? I’m Officer Ferretti. Have you been out all night, sir?” He took in my appearance, my attire not exactly appropriate for an early Saturday morning, his eyes assessing but remote and non-judgmental.
I nodded. I had to clear my throat a couple of times in order to speak. Already suffering from lack of sleep and a headache, all I had wanted to do was curl up in bed and now to come home to this… “What happened?” I asked. Stupid question. “I mean, did anyone see anything? How much damage is there?”
Ferretti shook his head. “No one saw the perpetrators, but we think there were two from the noises reported by Mrs. Carmichael. The damage could certainly have been much worse. The burglars were scared off before they could get too much.” He nodded at Mrs. Carmichael and her little yappers. “You can thank the dogs for it not being worse than it is. They set up a ruckus when they heard the men tramping around. Apparently you’re not as noisy as they were, and the dogs reacted to the strange sounds. Mrs. Carmichael peered out into the hall, saw that your door was damaged, and called us.”
I looked at her in amazement. She seemed quite pleased with herself, and deservedly so, I thought. “I can’t thank you enough, Mrs. Carmichael. You and the dogs. I’m very grateful you were so alert.”
I would have to pick her up something from the bakery she liked so much and some treats for the little dogs. And I would never say another bad word about them, no matter how loud they got through the wall.
“Let’s take a look inside now, Mr. Morgan, and maybe you can give us a quick rundown of what’s missing. We’ll get you a report you can file with your insurance company.”
It didn’t sound like he had much hope of catching the burglars and getting my stuff back. That didn’t surprise me. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what I would find, but the officer was right. It could have been worse.
I walked around slowly, feeling a little queasy at the thought of hostile men tramping through my apartment, looking through my things. I had worked hard to have my own space, a real home, and I rarely even invited anyone over to share it. Having strangers intrude… It was a violation. I was very glad that I hadn’t been home, but it would be some time before I could relax and feel safe in my own place again.
At least the door to my grandmother’s room remained closed; they hadn’t gotten that far. Nor had they opened the closet where I had stored my laptop case when I’d gotten home from work the previous day. In a big hurry to get showered and changed for the party at the Brookses’ house, I hadn’t unpacked it as I usually did. It sat there, untouched.
My little office alcove was a different story. Papers littered the floor, knocked from the shelves of a bookcase, which looked like a tornado had hit it. The monitor remained, but they had unhooked the computer and taken it away. Carefully I stepped around the biggest mess by far: my small flat-screen television, now in pieces on the floor.
Ferretti said, “Looks like they were carrying o
ut the TV when they realized your neighbor was aware of them. They must have dropped it as they fled the scene.”
“My computer is gone,” I said as I returned from a quick look around my bedroom. “That seems to be all that’s really missing. There’s not much of value here, anyway. I don’t have any expensive watches or anything like that.”
They finished up their paperwork and left me with a couple of recommendations for locksmiths. I needed someone to repair the door and put on new locks. That, along with cleaning up the mess and running to the store for a new TV, took up the rest of the day.
Exhausted by the time the workmen left, I sat on the couch with my new TV on low to keep me company, staring at my door. It had been repaired enough to be secure, repainted, and had three shiny new locks. As darkness fell, I found myself suddenly afraid to go to bed. I felt like I needed to sit on the couch and stay alert, even though logically I knew that no one would come back.
I tried to think of someone to call. Maybe if I talked to someone, I could get some of the anger and fear out of my system. Maybe Art? But he would be at work, and I didn’t want to bother him.
It would have made sense to call Keith. I had just slept with him. We had another date lined up. Wasn’t this the kind of thing you were supposed to talk about with a guy you were dating? Maybe he wasn’t exactly the ideal I had built him up to be, but who could live up to that? I should want to call him. I just didn’t feel comfortable doing it.
I sat on the couch, knees drawn up with my head resting on them. Closing my eyes, I tried to recall last night, tried to feel Keith’s smooth hands on my skin. But instead, the hands touching me were warm, strong and calloused. And when I tried to imagine Keith’s cool gray eyes, the eyes staring back into mine were dark and calm.
Chapter Four
My phone rang right at lunchtime that Monday; Art, of course. He had the twelve-o’clock phone call down to an exact science. I had called him the previous Friday to let him know I wouldn’t be going out with him and Jen, and I had made the mistake of mentioning that I might see Keith at the party. He knew all about my crush.
“The party, man. I want details.”
“What are you, some kind of gossipy old lady?”
“Don’t try to evade.”
I told him how the party had ended up as a date and filled him in with as much detail as I thought reasonable to share. He seemed to sense I was a little disappointed with the way things had gone, although I didn’t tell him anything specific.
“You going out again?” he asked.
“Yes, Friday night.”
“Well, if it doesn’t work out, you know Matt is still around. He was out with Mark and Susie, but I think he was really looking for you. I told him you were out at a party, and he asked if you were going to see some guy named Keith. I guess you told him about Keith when you were talking to him at the club?”
“I’m surprised he remembered.”
“Well, he did. He said he was happy you were going to see your dream man, but he would be around if it didn’t work out for you.”
“He’s a patient guy, that’s for sure.”
I told him about the break-in at my apartment, and he was appropriately sympathetic. “That sucks. At least you weren’t there.” I agreed, and he said, “Call me next week, okay? I want to know how the second date went.”
I told him I would and ended the call. Then I just sat for a while, staring blankly at the numbers on my computer screen. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure I still wanted to go out Friday night, but I told myself again that I couldn’t judge Keith based on one date. He had been in a partying mood; he probably wasn’t like that all the time. It would be different when it was just the two of us, no clients to entertain. I felt sure of it. Well, fairly sure.
* * *
I knocked on Sanderson’s door later that day. “Sorry to bother you, Carl. Do you have a minute?”
The large, balding man peered up through his bifocals at me, his attention torn from his computer. I knew those glasses hid a mind that probably thought in numbers. He had worked in just about every area of accounting for longer than I had been alive. Plus, he cooked a mean hamburger at our company picnics.
“Sure, come on in. How’s the new account coming along?”
I took a seat. “Great. You know how it is, trying to get up to speed. Lots of files to study, meetings, phone calls. But it’s going fine. I’ve just been busy, or I would have dropped by earlier. I wanted to ask if you had a chance to look at the Tapman account.”
“Yes, Eckland told me you had seen something that worried you. He showed me the printouts you made, and I can see why you were concerned.”
“So what do you think?”
“It does look odd. But by itself, it just isn’t enough to call in any kind of investigation. Unless it occurs again, or something else strange happens, there is nothing we can do except keep an eye on it. And I promise you, I will do that.” He must have seen the relief on my face because he smiled. “Not too upset about my opinion, then?”
“God, not at all. The last thing I want is to be involved in any kind of an investigation. I just needed to be sure there was nothing happening that could get the firm into trouble. Well, and I have to say I’m more than a little curious. Things are supposed to add up, and if they don’t, there’s always a reason, right? So if you find out anything else, will you let me know?”
“Of course. And let me know if you need any help with the new account.”
Almost as soon as I got back to my desk, I got a call from Keith to meet him in his office. I rode the elevator up to the executive suite where all the top management had their offices. I rarely had occasion to go to that floor, and I realized I had never actually been in Keith’s office. A beautifully appointed room, it reminded me of the leather furniture and contemporary paintings in his apartment.
I assumed the call was about our Friday plans, since in my position, I seldom dealt with him regarding work-related business.
But he didn’t respond to my tentative smile; he just looked annoyed. My smile vanished. “What is it, Keith? Is something wrong?”
“I worked hard to get that Lawrence Industries account, and I hear you’ve been neglecting it so you could run down some phantom computer glitch.” He raised his voice. “Why are you wasting your time and the company’s time?”
“I’m not neglecting anything,” I snapped back. “I’m doing my job. Whether it’s a computer glitch or not, where’s the harm in asking Sanderson to keep his eyes open for it?” I stepped closer to him, furious at the unwarranted accusation. “And I’ve been working really hard on my other accounts, including the Lawrence account. Ask anyone. They’ll tell you I always stay late if I have to, to get everything done. Nothing gets neglected!”
He seemed surprised by my anger. I take my job very seriously, and if Keith didn’t know that, then he sure didn’t know anything about me.
I glared at him, and he backed off. “Okay, okay. I didn’t mean to accuse you of anything. I was just worried. That’s all. It’s my job to worry. You know that.”
“Well, you could have just asked instead of yelling at me,” I said, then took a deep breath to calm myself down.
“You’re right. You’re right,” he said in a conciliatory tone. His arms went around my waist, and I backed away.
“Keith!” I said. “We’re at work.”
He looked annoyed again. “I sure can’t make any right moves with you today, can I?”
“I just don’t like to mix my weekends with my weekdays.”
“That’s the truth. You’re like a different person, aren’t you? I’m beginning to see why you need to go out on Friday nights and blow off some steam; you’re so wound up during the week.”
“I do work hard. That’s why I got upset when you talked about me neglecting my accounts.” I paused, and then added a trifle reluctantly, “I’ll admit I may have overreacted a bit.”
“That’s okay.” He stepped close again. �
�Speaking of Friday night, we’re still going out, right? Help you forget all about work for a while.” He put on his best little boy wheedling tone. “Come on. It’ll be fun.” I couldn’t help but smile. He could sure turn on the charm when he wanted to.
“Yeah, sounds good.”
“Cool. Listen, is there anything I can do to help Sanderson?”
“No.” I shook my head. “It’s probably nothing. I’m sure he’ll follow up, but I’ve done what I can.”
I left Keith’s office and promptly ran into three men outside Ethan Brooks’s office suite. “Oh, sorry,” I said, looking up at the man I had almost run into. I had to look a long way up—he was much taller than me, blond, and very well muscled. Another big guy stood with him, this one sporting long black hair in a ponytail. I almost missed the third guy; although not really short, he seemed like a small, nondescript man compared to the other two, with a small mustache being his most distinctive feature. I didn’t recognize them as coworkers, and they somehow didn’t look like clients. The blond guy glowered at me as he passed, and they got into the elevator. I hung back, definitely not wanting to be trapped in a little box with those guys.
I spotted Ethan Brooks through the door of his office, sitting behind his massive mahogany desk. He looked pale, sweat beading his forehead despite the icy air conditioning. Alarmed, I thought it looked like symptoms of a heart attack, although I was no expert. Entering the office, I wondered where his secretary had gone. Emily had a reputation as a dragon lady, guarding the gates to Brooks’s office. Odd for her not to be around in the middle of the morning.
I stooped down in front of him. “Are you okay, sir? Can I get you anything?”
He didn’t respond at first, but he attempted a smile. “Oh, hello, Morgan. No, no, everything is fine, my boy. Just a bit of an upset stomach.”
“Do you want me to get someone, sir? Keith is in his office. Shall I ask him to come over?”
“No, no, I’m fine now, thank you.”
Friday Night Jamie Page 5