by E. J. Larson
She had noticed his attention and peered over at him through the blonde strands. Again he let his gaze roam over her body, imagining her heated skin under his hands. A beautiful performance. Turning away from the dance floor, he took a sip from his highball glass and let the familiar taste of gin with lemonade flood his oral cavity. Sharpness, tartness, and sweetness all at once. Just the way he liked women best, too.
“Hey sweetie, looking for anything in particular?”, a surprisingly smoky voice breathed in his ear. Before he got carried away with too direct an answer, he looked around for the speaker just in case. He was in luck. His maneuver had attracted just the right person. Up close, he could finally get a look at her face. Pretty, but idiosyncratic. Chin and cheekbones stood out prominently. From the darker eyebrows, Jasper thought he could tell she wasn't a true blonde, but he couldn't care less. Hair color was the last thing he paid attention to in a woman.
“Yeah, maybe you can help me find it?” he replied ambiguously.
She took his free hand and pulled him with her to a table in the VIP section of the club. A chaperone let them both pass without question. She had left the other women she was with on the dance floor.
“I saw you eating me out with your eyes. Can you please explain to me why I wasn't allowed to be more active in your daydream?” she murmured to him, and with a gentle shove, pushed him down onto the cushion of the seating area. Hot, Jasper rejoiced, liking it when women were offensive. To them, he didn't feel like he was taking advantage of their naivety. His partners usually knew exactly what they wanted. So he didn't need to play games or feign a deeper interest.
On the table were two empty champagne bottles next to a margarita pitcher whose contents were barely enough for another glass. So the girls had already made a good start.
“What part would you like to play in my daydream?” Jasper asked back provocatively. He really wanted to know how far she would go.
“I prefer to be on top.” Her answer astonished him in its directness, but not in its content. Those who were so offensive just liked to keep control.
“Pleased to meet you. I'm Jasper.”
He held out his hand to her. With a smirk that revealed she was no longer completely sober, she took it and bent over. Her top offered him stimulating insights from this position.
“Oh, you will be pleased, Jasper. I’m Tiffany, but you can call me whatever you want.” The smoky sound of her voice matched the unusual face perfectly. Her full lips always showed a slight pout. The makeup looked pretty perfect to his trained eye. “Slide on in.”
He moved a little lower in the pew. She put one knee down on his right and one on his left, then settled astride his lap. Jasper held his breath.
“Are you a model?” he asked, more to flatter her than out of genuine interest.
“Yeah, how did you know?” Her eyes were wide and shining at him.
“Your makeup and that gorgeous body.” Jasper grinned, not hiding his intentions. But now he wanted to knock off a few more dates just in case, so he didn't get involved with the wrong woman. “Who do you work for?”
Not all of these models were harmless. Especially the girls represented by minor agents tended to cling to supposed saviors a little more than he would have liked.
“Elite,” she called a reputable agency. This eliminated that risk and allowed him to move on to the more pleasant part of the conversation.
“So you're into sex?”
“Who's not into that?” Her pout tightened and she bit her lower lip as her hands slid over his chest. The white shirt was made of a particularly fine fabric that flattered any skin that came in contact with it. So Tiffany would surely not be able to keep her hands off it either.
“Hey Tiff,” another voice announced itself, also distracting Jasper from the hot body on his lap for a second. Two young women had set up in front of the table. Both also impeccably beautiful, but noticeably more reserved than their friend. “Aren't you going to introduce us?”
“Um, Teagan, Milena, this is …", Tiffany began and stretched the pause.
“Jasper,” he interrupted her with a polite smile directed at the other two because he was sure she didn't remember his name. “Are you two models too?”
“No,” the shorter one replied sheepishly. “I'm a stylist.”
She had dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a cute face. He inspected her features and could roughly pinpoint her ethnicity to Central America. However, in the few words she spoke, he didn't hear a hint of an accent.
“You wouldn't seriously think anyone would let Milena on a catwalk anywhere.” A sneer in her eyes completed the first impression Jasper got of the taller woman. She seemed to be the leader of the clique and was eager to prove it. He would have loved to really jump her bones with a compliment to the cute Latina. But he didn't know what effect that might have on the rest of his evening, so he left it at that for now. Stylist Milena averted her eyes and probably would have preferred to melt into the background.
“Are you going to ditch us or what?” she snapped at Tiffany.
“Teagan, now don't make a drama out of this.” The model was also under the Despot's thumb in a way, but she wasn't willing to let her dictate how her evening went. That impressed Jasper.
“Alright, if you say so.” Shrugging, the leader let Tiffany frown at her. “We're moving on now. It's too common here for us today.”
This time her mocking gaze fell on him. Apparently he'd gotten his stamp of approval now, too, but he couldn't care less what an overbearing diva with power issues thought of him. The woman Tiffany had called Teagan reached for her silver handbag and with a nod of her head motioned Cinderella to follow her.
“She's a little bossy sometimes when she's not the center of attention,” Tiffany explained her friend's outburst with a shake of her head. “Typical Osbourne syndrome, don't worry about it. She won't remember your name or your pretty face tomorrow.”
“Osbourne?” Jasper asked, irritated.
“Yeah, didn't you know? Oh, that would really piss her off,” the model laughed at the top of her lungs. Jasper associated little with the name Osbourne. He knew that was the name of one of the most influential families in town, but he didn't care for gossip. “Where were we?”
She ran her hand through the stubble on his neck and pulled his head closer. Her tongue licked over her slightly parted lips. He moved toward her and bridged the missing inches between their mouths for a fleeting kiss, tasting her lips. They tasted of fresh sweat and alcohol. Jasper pulled her chin closer and brushed his lips from her chin up her jawline to her ear. A silver creole guided him from there down her neck until he met her collarbone at the bottom.
Tiffany arched her back and her breasts pressed against him. He explored the curve of her collarbone with his lips as her hand gripped him tighter and pulled his head back.
Those glossy lips that formed a lascivious grin teased him. He wanted to taste them, savoring every second of anticipation before their lips finally joined again. His tongue ran over her bottom lip as he felt her hands tugging at his belt.
She was very unerring, he thought admiringly. It would be impossible for him to fight Tiffany without someone noticing what she was doing to him here. Yet he made not even a half-hearted attempt to stop her. Instead, he put a hand to her plump ass, over which her skirt stretched, and gently pinched it. She rose a few inches and purposefully unzipped his pants. His free hand went up the inside of her thigh, under her skirt, and reached the edge of the gauzy panties.
He felt the hand inching its way into his pants. Even though he had to admit he thought all the action at the club was pretty hot, he'd like to move the rest of it to a more private setting. Melvin certainly didn't like to see sex happen at the club.
“Shall we go to your place?” he breathed into her ear between two kisses. She grinned and slowly rose from his lap as he unobtrusively zipped his pants back up, hidden behind her body. Tiffany took him by the hand and pulled him along with her.
JONAH SPARED NO expense or effort in getting her excited about their new place to live. He'd led her downtown, which began just a few cross streets from the apartment they shared. At a store vaguely reminiscent of the seventies, they ate a waffle. It was overloaded with ice cream, whipped cream, and candy of every kind that Quinn felt a violent sugar shock.
At his side, she was able to explore the variety of offerings in the store windows, though most of them were closed on Sundays. A few blocks from her apartment, glass skyscrapers rose into the sky. Neon signs flashed everywhere and smells from faraway lands permeated the streets. No wonder it had been so difficult to find the apartment amidst all these distractions the day before.
The distraction Jonah offered her from her initial worries about the move worked so well at times that she barely felt any of her homesickness. She could barely feel her feet either. They were so numb from the seemingly endless expedition through the new world that lay before her like a kaleidoscope of possibilities.
“Come along, I have another surprise for you,” he urged with that enthusiasm that bubbled out of him from an inexhaustible source.
She followed him breathlessly down the street. The distinctive black-brick building with the antique shop was unmistakable. Quinn paused.
“Wait, don't we live right here?”
It was a warm, windless autumn day for which she was not properly dressed. She had expected it to be cooler and so had thrown on her ivory cardigan. But Jonah's pace, and his reluctance to take extended breaks, was increasingly getting to her.
"Yes, but we have a bit further to go,” Jonah explained without elaborating on his surprise.
She would have preferred to climb onto the sofa now and not get up for the rest of Sunday. But her roommate apparently had other plans for her. Shrugging, she hurried on.
He was fitter than he looked. She had immediately noticed the little rolls of flab under his shirt and thought he was a comfortable guy who liked to spend his days on the couch. But she had been wrong about him.
His footsteps carried him at lightning speed to the end of the street, where the narrower footpath began that she had admired the day before. She knew it led into the park. Quinn hurried to keep up with him. Thousands of leaves lay beneath the spreading branches of old trees, forming dense carpets around their trunks.
An area opened up before her, the ends of which she could not see. The whole park shone in all kinds of natural tones. The air was filled with the scent of fresh earth and carried the chirping of quite a few birds to her ears. Quinn stopped and looked up at the sky. A jagged leaf floated down to her from a branch and landed directly on her outstretched hand. Now Jonah stopped too and came back with slow steps.
“Wow, this is really dreamy,” she groaned. She twirled the leaf on its stem between her fingers, enjoying the light breeze it brought to her face.
“Welcome to Fairfield Park - the park from which our neighborhood takes its name.”
“How big is this place? That looks gigantic. I've only ever seen anything like this in Central Park, and even that I've only seen on TV.”
“I don't know.” Jonah scratched the back of his head and let his eyes wander over the expanse as well.
Here and there trees and bushes limited her view, but all in all she could feel the vastness she knew from home. Endless landscape paired with unreachable civilization, but here she had both. Fairfield Park was right in the center of the city, giving her a wonderful place to go whenever she missed the vastness of her home. With a few steps she would be back in urban life.
Slowly they strolled on. At the foot of an American red oak, two young women sat and picnicked in this romantic idyll. A picnic would be a great idea now, Quinn thought, only too happy to rest her feet a bit. Besides, she hadn't learned much about her new companion, and she was eager to pick up a few details about Jonah's life.
“Hey Amber,” he called abruptly over to the two women. “Hey Olivia.”
The two looked up from their blankets and waved at him.
“Come,” he encouraged Quinn to follow him again.
“This is Quinn, my new roommate,” he introduced her. “This is Amber and Olivia, they live one floor below us.”
Each of them raised a hand briefly as their name came up, making it easier for her to assign them. Olivia leaned back and propped her hands in the foliage beyond the red and white patterned blanket.
“Hello, nice to meet you.”
“Hi Quinn, join us,” Amber asked her to sit down, tapping an empty spot on the blanket. “Jonah asked us to prepare a little something for you.”
“We have fresh fruit, cool white wine, and some sandwiches,” Olivia explained, her freckles adding something fragile to her pretty face. “What do you want to start with?”
Quinn thought about it for a moment. They both seemed very personable and natural. The fact that Jonah wanted to introduce them to each other probably also marked them as close friends she didn't even want to pretend to.
“I would love a white wine,” she confessed with a sigh. Jonah smirked for a second and then joined them as well. He unerringly grabbed a sandwich while Olivia filled three glasses. They were only a few feet away from her apartment, and yet it was like being in another world.
“Jonah's probably skipping the wine, right?” Amber asked.
“Yeah, you three girls have a drink by yourselves.” He shook his head and took a hearty bite of the sandwich. Uncertain, Quinn looked at him.
“I'm not much for wine,” he added by way of explanation. Relieved not to have put her foot in it, she raised her glass and toasted with the other two girls.
“Where do you go out like this?” Jonah had already shown and explained so much to her, but he hadn't mentioned how to party in Fairfield Park. In the absence of options, the most they'd gone to back home was house parties, but the city certainly had more to offer than that.
“Yesterday, for example, we went to Lace. It's a basement club a few streets away that mainly plays house music. But there are lots of clubs, bars and events here. If you want, we'd be happy to take you next time,” Olivia offered generously.
“That would be great,” Quinn agreed. Since Jonah was keeping a very low profile on the subject, she tried to engage him more actively in the conversation. “Jonah, what do you do in the evenings and in your free time?”
He jolted up from his dreamy contemplation of his sandwich and had to think about her question for a moment.
“Um, I study, watch movies, play computer games and stuff.”
“Cool, what kind of movies do you like?” Quinn was particularly fond of '80s movies and hoped he'd finally discovered something in common. Jonah was nice. He went out of his way to give her a good start, and anyway, the shy-looking guy had a certain charm. But she didn't like computer games and she certainly wouldn't spend her evenings in the city studying.
“All sorts of things,” he returned vaguely. “Superheroes, Star Wars, gangster movies.”
At least with the gangster movies, Quinn would join him, but she couldn't do anything with comic book heroes and space movies. She already had trouble telling Star Wars and Star Trek apart.
“And what are you studying?” she asked further.
“Electrical engineering,” he replied.
Keeping the conversation going was getting exhausting. She didn't know a thing about electronics and didn't want to feign excitement about it. Otherwise he might want to entertain her with a tutorial for months to come. Quinn was and always would be a craftswoman with a penchant for art and, fatally, trash, but those were the things she loved. Whether or not a diode was blinking somewhere, she didn't give a damn.
“Quinn, what brings you to Fairfield?” Amber asked, trying to fill the silence after Jonah's curt answer.
“I'm a jewelry designer and I've been offered a job here where I can develop myself. When I have learned enough there, I would like to start my own business.”
Quinn's f
ather had let her cut a gemstone for the first time when she was five - before that, countless other materials had become jewelry in her fingers. It had always been clear that she would follow in his footsteps to take over his jewelry making business when she was old enough. But then he'd died far too young instead, and they'd had to abandon the family business. But Quinn hadn't buried her dream with him.
She had completed basic training after school with one of his competitors - a common jeweler. Now she wanted to complete her apprenticeship with a real master. Then she expected to have a paper in her hand that proved, at least to herself, that she had learned everything she needed to know. Countless applications later, Brooks & Shore, the most famous jewelry designers in North America, had invited her for a selection interview. Theodor Brooks and Jade Shore crafted pieces for the red carpets. They worked some of the most precious stones in the world for their high society clients. As if in an art school, she had presented her own creations before them both and had finally been accepted, much to her unbridled delight.
“That sounds great. I restore furniture and have my own business downstairs.”
“This is yours?” Quinn's eyes snapped open. Amber seemed so young and casual. How could she run her own business at that age?
“Yes, I had the chance and it would have been stupid not to take it.”
“Wow, really cool,” she agreed with the entrepreneur. “Can I ask how old you are?”
“Of course you may. I'm twenty-five and look back on ten years of experience in my business.”