Wild Night: A Second Chance Romance

by Charlotte Sloan

  “Well, May, lesson one of drinking fine, neat whiskey is to go slow. Congratulations on learning something new,” he laughed teasingly.

  I glared at him from under my dark eye lashes. Now I was embarrassed. Stupid know it all. Stupid Mr. Cool. Stupid Mr. Bad Boy, I don’t need the academic world to respect me. That was all well and good for someone with his reputation and personal financial backing. Not so easy for those of us trying to fit in with an ever more conservative academic world where the tenure track was rough going.

  I straightened up and challenged Ben and said, “It’s easy for you, Ben Arbour; you don’t need approval. I’m a lowly grad student. I can’t afford to annoy the university or be so controversial.”

  Ben watched me with a smile for a moment before calling Pete over and persuading him with easy charm to serve us another two neat whiskeys.

  “May,” he said, “your problem is you are too serious. You are a great student, my best student, but you cannot let the burdens of work and career rule your life. Learn to embrace the amusing diversions that come your way, like tonight, and neat whiskey.”

  I cautiously sipped my drink. It was warm, nice, and burned in my throat in a good way.

  “I just want to get somewhere, Ben,” I said with a sigh.

  Ben nodded and sipped his drink, keeping his blue eyes on me as I fidgeted with my glass, “You are a young woman in a hurry. I get that. I was once a guy in a hurry. I have learnt to enjoy life while I fight against the rules.”

  I considered this and said, “What is your number one rule you think is meant to be broken?”

  Ben smiled, “The ever eager student wanting to wring every drop of career information out of her poor professor, even late at night when a man is just trying to relax and enjoy a drink with a beautiful woman.”

  I ignored the beautiful comment entirely and said, “And is this a rule you think is meant to be broken? Fraternizing with students?”

  Ben didn’t miss a beat, “For sure, but only the beautiful ones.”

  I blushed. I didn’t think I was beautiful. I mean, I didn’t think I was ugly, but beautiful? And said by a former fashion mogul and a professor who had freshmen chasing after him all over campus?

  I ignored him again, shy, and challenged him on another note, “What about the rule men shouldn’t design for women’s bodies?”

  Ben smiled again, refusing to get serious with me, “I never designed. I ran a company. Like a boss. That happened to sell things for women. If you think I can’t make a judgment call on what women want to put on their bodies, then let me show you just how well I know women.”

  I stopped what I was about to launch into saying and our eyes locked. I saw desire and fire in his. I felt desire and fire well in me in response. I could feel my cheeks flush and heat pool in my lower belly. This was a fantasy of mine. Not just to screw a professor, which I had thought about since freshman year, long before I met Ben. I’d had a crush on Ben since he first strode to the lecture podium and started casually riffing on his experiences ruling and opting out of the fashion world.

  Ben grinned at me, “Don’t think so much, May. Just go with what you feel.”

  I looked at Ben and he looked at me, and in that moment, I made a decision. I wanted to be in the aura of Ben, to have that casual, I-seize-the-moment, Carpe Diem life where you don’t give a damn about rules, where you are too powerful to care and too confident to notice what others say.

  I leaned forward and kissed him, impulsively, with passion. His whiskey mouth met mine and the heat between our mouths was as intense as the feelings now travelling up and down my body.

  Ben pulled away and cupped my face, “Did you know ‘let’s get out of here’ is the most said line in movies?”

  I broke into a grin, “So, let’s get out of here?”

  And we got out of there. Ben drove us to his home in his pickup truck—he didn’t care for luxury cars and was still a down to earth at heart. On we went to the north side, where old homes and warehouses were being gentrified into luxe apartments and homes overlooking the Dartment River. We arrived at his apartment. Ben led the way into his living room. The room was dimly lit. Ben put his hand around my neck and pulled me in and kissed me hard. His other hand made its way up to my breasts. He groaned, “I’ve dreamt about this for a long time, May.” I could feel his erection underneath his pants.

  Ben put his hands under my dress and slid them up my thighs, grabbing my ass he lifted me up onto his island that separated his kitchen and living room. He opened my legs and pulled my lace panties aside. My juices were pooling between my folds and my clit was aching for his touch. He flicked my clit with his tongue; my head went back in pure bliss. His hand reached up, roughly grabbing my breasts. His other hand was busy working with his tongue.

  “Ben, stop, stop. I don’t want to come yet. I want you inside me.”

  Ben lifted me off the island. He slipped my dress over my head and like a professional, undid my bra with one hand. It fell to the floor. He stared for a moment and cupped my tits, leaning in to give each erect nipple a suck. He slid my panties off and lifted me onto the couch. He slid off his clothes and laid on top of me. His cock was thick and throbbed with desire.

  Teasing me, he rubbed the head of his dick up and down my slit. I was bursting with pleasure. We didn’t talk protection. We didn’t think. We couldn’t think. The moment was so hot, our need so great for each other that he just plunged right into me. A rush of pleasure. Ben moaning, thrusting inside of me. My orgasm was building like a volcano about to erupt.

  Finally, with exploding release, I came. Ben getting very close and in complete control picked me up and bent me over the back of the couch. One knee on the couch and the other standing, he expertly entered me, his dick pumping harder and harder. He yelled out my name as he filled me with his hot juices. We both collapsed on the couch, laying there, catching our breaths.

  Ben was quiet, thoughtful, “We need to keep this quiet, May, just until you graduate; then you can be mine.”

  I snuggled into him, “I know, I understand. I don’t want us to get into trouble.”

  Ben kissed me on the head, “It’s not me I’m worried about; I’d survive. It’s you and your future career.”

  I nodded dreamily. For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t thinking of my career. Just of Ben and the amazing things he had done to my body.

  We carried on our affair until I graduated, this time using protection. Little did we know a life, Zoe, was already growing inside me. The result of one careless night of passion. One amazing and special night of passion. Ben and I made plans to announce our relationship once I graduated and restrictions on us dating by the university would be lifted. At the same time, I helped Ben work his research into an amazing new report on fast fashion that would kick his career up from bad boy curiosity in the academic world to serious player. Our future was bright.

  All that changed when I realized I was pregnant. I was distressed at first. I felt so guilty thinking what terrible timing it was, with me trying to get my career going, with Ben’s paper about to launch.

  With our relationship still a secret and with a newness to it, I didn’t have to think long about it: this was a gift. I made some clear decisions. I cut off my relationship with Ben, telling him it had been a mistake and for his own sake he would be better off than having lingering questions about his conduct with grad students in the air while he launched his paper. I told him I had changed my mind on my career and wanted to retreat for a while to think it over. I told him I was thankful for all he had done for me. I didn't mean it to be forever, just for now.

  He was angry. That is all there is to say about that. I walked away from him, leaving him angry.

  *****

  Leaving Zoe with Natalie, I headed to Harwood University to confront destiny. I had seen the list of RSVPs to the conference online and Ben was on it. So was mine. Good, I had thought, at least we were being mature about our past relationship and not av
oiding each other.

  Arriving at the red-brick campus, I headed to the Hurst Conference Centre. Located at the back of campus among shady trees and winding paths, the conference center hosted its fair share of get-togethers. Harwood University punched above its weight, given its small size and out of the way location.

  Arriving at the entrance room, I lined up behind assorted guests to be checked off. You could pick the ones from the fashion and consumer industry from those in academia that was for sure. Where I fit anymore, I didn’t know. My essay had been non- academic, for a general magazine. I had written on how the world of fashion was being forced to come to grips with all kinds of body shapes and sizes, or risk going out of business due to not catering for an expansive enough audience.

  My article had caused something of a stir amongst the size-restrictive fashion labels. It hadn’t hit the mainstream papers for a write around, but I knew it had been forwarded in some circles that matter, along with an asterisk as to what had happened to me since I had been one of Ben Arbour’s star students—a question I was keen to avoid tonight.

  “May.”

  That voice. That man. Coming up right behind me. Ben. The father of my child. I would know that voice anywhere. I turned, swallowed hard. He looked good. Grey, lightly pinstriped suit, open white shirt, no tie. You could never get him in a tie.

  “Ben,” my voice cracked in reply.

  He looked concerned, not the angry man I had thought he would be when I saw him again—the angry man I had left behind.

  “You look well. I was hoping you would show up so I could check on you,” he replied with a long look at me.

  I blushed and smoothed my navy dress over my curvier body. Would he notice my post pregnancy shape, this man with the eye for detail?

  “Thank you, you too,” I replied and turned away, getting checked off by the woman at the desk taking names.

  Ben followed suit and kept up after me as I made my way to the find the name badges. May Callister, Author, mine read. I noticed mine was right next to Ben’s. Was life just throwing us together? Didn’t life realize what was at stake here? I sacrificed everything for Ben to be able to be here celebrating in the report he had launched which was, as predicated, making a name for him. Don’t ruin it now, fate, I cursed under my breath.

  Ben said, “What’s that, May?”

  I fixed my badge on me and turned to him, “Nothing, Ben. Nothing at all. It’s lovely to see you. Congratulations on your report. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to find my seat. The mystery speaker is going to start soon.”

  Ben grinned, “That mystery speaker would be me and the damn conference can wait. I need answers, May. You just left me; we were going to be great together. You never gave me a why and I think you owe me that.”

  I tried to hold a smile, tried to pretend everything was normal. That I didn’t have a six-month-old, beautiful baby girl currently stashed at my friend's house, a secret baby to protect her daddy’s career. I didn’t mean to keep her a secret forever, just for now, until things were right, until Ben was established. Then I would find a way to explain to him why I had done what I did. Perhaps the rebel in him would agree with me, with going against convention and being a secret mom for a while.

  “Ben,” I began just as a conference organizer strode up to him to tell him he was on.

  The organizer looked between us, sensing the tension and ignoring it, and said, “Ben, you’re on in five minutes; we need to mic you up.”

  Ben looked at the organizer and back to me, “No, sorry, I have other things to attend to. May, I’m not going to let you out of my sight or get up on that stage until you give me one damn good reason why you left me after everything.”

  I looked at Ben as the organizer faded away back into the crowd, sensing conflict, and the room emptied as people went to their seats, and waiting for a speaker who might not come.

  “Because,” I said quietly, “because I got pregnant, Ben.” I panicked.

  I turned and fled, bursting into tears and ripping my name badge off my dress, tearing a small hole just like the hole in my heart had torn bigger at seeing his handsome face demanding answers to what I did with his love.

  Ben chased after me, not caring for the roomful of people waiting to hear his wit and wisdom, “May,” he cried as I ran.

  He caught up to me easily enough as I headed out to my car. I was no match for an athletic man like Ben, a postpartum woman like me, slow and cumbersome in a new body. I stood by my car and he stood looking at me. The wind stood still, and time stood still. Just my lover, my daughter's father, and I looking at each other.

  Ben spoke first and said, “Why didn’t you tell me? I don’t understand.”

  Tears rolled down my face as I replied, “It was for you.” A flash of pain across his face. I couldn’t tell if he was angry. He definitely was hurt.

  Ben nodded slowly, letting this shocking information sink in. He took me in his arms and kissed me tenderly and looked me in the eyes. “We will figure this out.”

  I smiled from under my tears and took his hand. It felt warm and strong in mine, the fingers slightly calloused, the hands of a man who gets out from behind the books and really uses them. My heart thudded softly in my chest.

  I said emotionally, “She’s beautiful. Her name is Zoe. It means life.”

  Ben’s face broke out into a grin, that sexy, imperfect face of his. The one that back in the bar had entranced me to want to give myself to him, to be so caught up in the moment that I didn’t think about protection or the potential life we were creating.

  I gestured to the conference center, “Our speeches.”

  “I don’t think I can concentrate now after that bombshell. Can we go talk? I want to meet her.”

  “These speeches are important for both of our careers. As soon as we are finished, we will go together to pick her up. Promise.”

  *****

  After a successful conference, we walked out together. “She’s perfect, Ben. She’s six months and has little toes and little fingers and I’ve spent the last six months wrapped up in her.”

  Ben grinned even more widely, “Let’s get out of here.”

  We drove over to Natalie’s and she made herself scarce while I gathered up Zoe and her many baby things and bag. Ben rushed for his baby girl and scooped her up out of Natalie’s spare crib and held her close, marveling at her tiny face and perfect, little nose.

  He looked up at me, a man in love. “Not here.”

  We drove the ninety minutes back to my house with Zoe strapped into her baby seat, gurgling away as if she knew her mommy and daddy were together in the front, reunited and coming together for her, and for themselves. Ben, of course, insisted on driving, being a man who hates to let someone else have control.

  I saw another Ben on that drive: a father. He drove 10 miles slower than when he had first driven me over to his apartment, driving then when he shouldn’t have, given the whiskey. Now I had to encourage him to drive faster in case we were arrested.

  Pulling into my driveway, he came around and opened my door and helped me out of the car carefully, like I was still a delicate, pregnant woman, not a woman who had survived a fifteen hour labor alone. His concern for me was touching. Ben carried Zoe inside in her baby carrier to my living room. He sat her carefully down on the rug and sprawled beside her. I sat down on the other side of the baby carrier and officially and joyfully introduced Ben to his daughter.

  “She’s sleeps well enough, but in the first three months, she kept me awake constantly, cheeky thing.”

  “She gurgles all the time, like she has something to say but can’t just yet.”

  “She loves her tummy rubbed. Here, try.”

  Ben looked at me as if asking for permission to touch Zoe. I nodded encouragement and he reached a tentative, large hand down onto Zoe’s little tummy. He rubbed it gently, in a circular motion with his long, strong fingers, and Zoe looked at him and obliging let out a big gurgle, as if saying ‘Hi,
Daddy,’ and smiled at him.

  We fell in love, all three of us. A family. There was no question about it. Ben loved Zoe and I loved Zoe and Ben and I loved each other. It was like we had never been apart and as if Zoe was a natural addition to our duo, now a three-part act.

  “Call me crazy,” Ben said, “but I think I’m in love with two girls at once.”

  I laughed and reached across Zoe to kiss him firmly on the mouth, “I might permit you to have another love, if it’s Zoe.”

  Ben grinned and kissed me again, “Two girls is enough in my life…for now.”

  He eyed my figure appreciatively, my post-baby curves and full breasts straining against my conservative, navy dress.