“Why in the world not? Why wouldn’t you tell him? After all, if he’s really a billionaire…”
“He is,” I say. “He’s the CEO at the place I work at…”
“OK,” says Janet. “That’s good. He can help you with the expenses. Do you have any idea how much it costs to have a baby?”
“Why did I have unprotected sex while not on birth control?” I say, groaning again.
“Yeah,” says Janet, looking at me severely. “Why did you do that?”
“He’s just so hot…” I say. “I’ve never met anyone like him.”
“Well then maybe you should tell him that and tell him you’re going to be carrying his baby.”
I shake my head again.
“Why the hell not?” she says.
“I just wanted to have a normal dating experience with him,” I say. “I just want to take it slow and see where things went. I wanted to be normal for once… I met a nice guy and I don’t want to ruin it with this baby stuff.”
“This is totally crazy,” says Janet. “He could really help you out financially. You might not even have to work after this… You’ll never have to work as a cleaner again, don’t you realize that?”
I shake my head. “I don’t want his money,” I say. “That’s not why I like him. I really like him for who he is, not because of his money… And he’s undoubtedly got women fawning all over him all the time for his money. If I tell him this, he’s just going to think I’m just like everyone else. He’s going to think I’m just after his money…”
“So what?” says Janet. “He’ll be legally obligated to give you some money and then if he has a big problem with that, you can find someone else…”
“I don’t want anyone else,” I say. “I want John.”
Janet just looks away, towards the window, while shaking her head. She looks completely exasperated.
But while having this conversation, my anxiety is actually diminishing. I can do this, I tell myself.
All I have to do is not tell John that I’m pregnant. That way I can continue to date him. And then, when things are developing really nicely between us, I’ll drop the news. Or maybe I’ll never have to tell him. Even now, I realize that sounds completely crazy. How can you never tell a guy you’re pregnant with his child, especially when you’re dating him? But with my currently scrambled brain that’s riddled with anxiety… it all makes sense somehow.
John
I’ve been waiting a month to get back to NYC and I’ve been unusually excited about it. Normally, I’d be completely bored and bitter about the prospect of returning to the city where everyone just wants a piece of me. But this time there’s Sarah, who doesn’t seem to care that I have money.
Our texting conversations have gone great. They’re perhaps more flirty than normal pre-date texts where people try to act all suave and not-interested. That might have something to do with the fact that we’ve already had sex. And now just any sex, but hot passionate sex in the middle of the night in a barn in the Hamptons. I still think about that night, and I doubt I’ll ever forget it, whatever happens. Sarah’s naked body still glimmers in my mind’s eye.
I’m strangely nervous when I pick up the phone to call her.
“So I’m back,” I say, not bothering to mince my words or say something cute.
“Good,” says Sarah. “I’d love to get together.”
“What about tonight?” I say. “It’d be nice to take you to a real dinner. Something nice. Something you haven’t had before.”
“There’s just one little problem,” says Sarah.
Oh no, here it comes. I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop, so to speak. Everything has just seemed too perfect with her, so it would make sense that there’s going to be some huge problem coming up.
“What is it?” I say, trying to keep my voice even. “You can tell me. Whatever the problem is, I know we can come up with a work around. I have a lot of contacts in the city, you know. We can handle anything.”
She pauses for a moment and I hold my breath, waiting to see what she’s going to say.
“It’s nothing huge,” says Sarah. “It’s just that we never talked about me working for you.”
All that build up for nothing.
The tension breaks and suddenly I burst out laughing.
“Honestly I forgot all about that,” I say. “It honestly hadn’t even crossed my mind once.”
“It was hard for me not to think about,” says Sarah. “After all, I work in your building every day, and have been working there since you left.”
“I bet it’s a lot of fun,” I say. “Cleaning the floors and everything sounds like a real drag. Why don’t you let me promote you to something better. You could have your own office or cubicle or whatever you want. Maybe even your own bathroom.”
“That won’t be necessary,” says Sarah, cutting me off somewhat curtly. But I’m impressed with her—she really doesn’t want financial favors from me, that’s clear enough. “I always make my own way. I’ve got a whole plan on working my way up…classes…and all that.”
“That’s great,” I say. “I was just offering. But I really respect that you want to do it all yourself.”
“Thanks,” says Sarah. “I just didn’t want things to be weird between us…you know, if we’re dating and also you’re my boss.”
“I may have interviewed you,” I say. “But Cindy’s really your boss. And I doubt she’s going to listen to me no matter what I tell her. That’s one of the reasons I hired her—she’s really tough and gets the job done.”
Sarah laughs, her laugh sounding beautiful even over the cell phone connection that could use a little to be desired. “That’s for sure,” she says. “I’ve certainly noticed.”
I laugh too. “It’s hard to avoid noticing Cindy’s personality,” I say. “Anyway, I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you that night…”
“Yeah,” says Sarah, laughing. The tension is broken and it feels good to be more relaxed. “I was wondering when you would notice.”
I laugh again. “I guess I was just taken aback by your beauty,” I say. “I was completely stunned. Shell chocked by how beautiful you were.”
“You mean how beautiful I am,” says Sarah, chuckling.
“Yeah,” I say. “That’s what I meant. Anyway, it doesn’t bother me that you’re a cleaner for my business. I mean, I do employ a lot of people and all that. I have to say, it’s refreshing that you’re not into me for my money. Most women would jump on the opportunity to get their own office and a big salary.”
“I’m not like that,” says Sarah.
“I noticed,” I say. “Anyway, if it gets more serious between us, we can fill out a employee relationship form, but I wouldn’t worry too much about it. After all, I’m the head of the whole company, so I can kind of do what I want there. Anyway, should I pick you up at 7 tonight? I know a good place we could eat at.”
Sarah hesitates for a moment, and I’m not sure why. But in the end she says yes and we say goodbye and hang up our phones.
I stare at the wall for a moment with a smile on my face. I knew I liked her from the moment I saw her, and now I have a feeling that this is really going to go somewhere serious, somewhere special. There’s just something about her that I can’t describe.
I look down at my pants and notice that I’ve got a hard on just thinking about her. The bulge is quite large in my pants and my cock feels as hard as it’s ever been. It’s amazing the way a woman like Sarah can do that to me—get me so hard without even being in the same room as me.
Well, I think to myself, this hard on will just have to wait until tonight, where hopefully I can “reconnect” with Sarah the way I’ve been hoping to.
But no more unprotected sex, I think to myself. As good as it feels, and as much as I want to do it, I don’t want to take any more risks. That was pretty irresponsible of me that night. So tonight I’ll make sure I bring some condoms with me. Not that I’m expecting sex, but it�
��d sure be a welcome surprise. I haven’t been with anyone the entire month I was in California. I haven’t been with anyone since I met Sarah, which is definitely the longest time I’ve been without sex since…well, since I was about 18.
That may sound unbelievable to some, but even before I was rich I never had any problems picking up women. Sometimes I don’t even have to make a move. The women just come up to me. Some of them have told me there’s just something about my presence that draws them to me.
I whittle away the rest of the day. The hours go by much, much too slowly.
When the time comes, I deck myself out in a suit. I usually never wear suits. But Sarah’s worth it. She’s more important than any business meeting, that’s for sure.
I plug her address into my phone, and cringe when I see which neighborhood she’s in. She certainly doesn’t live in Manhattan, that’s for sure. And actually her neighborhood is a place I’d really think twice about if I was walking alone at night. And I’m a pretty big guy and I’m no slouch at hand-to-hand combat either.
I take one of my sports cars out of the garage at my penthouse and cruised through the Manhattan streets. I’m used to scoping out the women as I drive. A lot of them like to look and see who’s driving such an expensive sports car. Normally I’d be rating them and admiring their bodies. But strangely, none of them hold any interest for me right now. All I can think about is Sarah and seeing her again.
I double-park the car on Sarah’s street.
I stand in front of her house and gaze up at the dilapidated row homes. This part of the city looks so dismal, so bleak and grey. That’s what poverty does to an area. There’s hardly anything living or green on the whole block. Down on the corner, there’s a white cross in the ground, probably signifying where some poor young person was gunned down. This isn’t a place I want anyone I care about living, I think to myself. Then again, I remind myself, aren’t I getting ahead of myself? I just met Sarah, basically.
But, no, there’s something else. There’s something special between us already.
I can almost feel or sense that she’s near me, even though I can’t see her. She’s probably upstairs putting the finishing touches on her makeup.
I look up again and this time I see her. It looks like she’s standing in the bathroom window, adjusting her earrings.
Even though I have a picture of her on my phone, and I have her image basically tattooed in my memory, seeing her in person is enough to make me catch my breath again and make my heart leap in surprise.
Somehow, she notices that I’m looking at her, and she looks down. We smile at each other.
I head up the steps and ring the doorbell.
“Coming,” says a shrill voice that doesn’t sound anything like Sarah.
“Hello,” I say. “I’m John Clark. Is Sarah here?”
“One minute,” she says. “Won’t you come in?”
The situation doesn’t make sense for a moment as I enter the cramped house. There’s stuff piled high in every possible location. I haven’t been into a home this dilapidated or stuffed for a long, long time. Not since before I became very rich. For a moment I wonder if this woman is her roommate?
Oh, I realize, it’s her mother. She lives with her mother.
Wow, I mean I knew she was poor. She’s working as a cleaner after all. But who lives with their mother?
Not that I care. Sarah could be homeless and I’d still date her. She could live on the bottom of the ocean, in a giant seashell, and I’d rent the scuba gear necessary to date her.
“You look beautiful,” I say, as Sarah appears at the bottom of the stairs.
“Could be better,” says her mother, giving her a disapproving look. “Where’d you get that dress?”
“Janet lent it to me,” says Sarah, blushing.
She looks gorgeous, with her long hair flowing down around her shoulders. Her breasts are pushed up slightly and create a very attractive bulge in the dress. The dress is short and doesn’t even approach her knees, leaving her legs bare and beautiful.
“Ready?” I say, anxious not to stick around to the mother’s sure-to-be probing questions. It’s been a long time since I’ve faced the interrogations of the mother’s of the daughter’s I’m dating. Maybe that’s because I’ve often gone out with super models who come from other countries. But Sarah’s just a regular American girl with a regular mother, and she’s hotter and sexier and more alluring than all the rest of the models put together.
I take Sarah by the arm and we leave quickly through the door.
“I can’t believe we got out of there without her doing anything,” says Sarah, giggling. She pushes her body up against mine from the side and it feels wonderful.
“It feels so nice to be close to you again,” I say.
“I hope it feels more than nice,” says Sarah, giving me a big kiss.
“Watch out you don’t get her pregnant,” calls her mother from inside the screen door.
I think we both blush.
By the time we’re in my sports car, my cock is already rock hard. Sarah and I are making out heavily, but I finally have to pull away to drive the car.
“I’ve got us a table at a decent restaurant,” I say.
“I hope I’m dressed OK,” says Sarah. “It’s not everyday a cleaner gets to dine with a billionaire.”
“You’ll look better than anyone else in there,” I say. “Just wait and see.”
Sarah
I was surprisingly nervous before the date. After all, I’m going out with my billionaire boss. And I happen to be carrying his baby. And he doesn’t know.
But we have such a good natural chemistry that soon all these worries fly right out of my head. I settle into the evening and enjoy John’s company. The drive is nice as we cruise through Manhattan. John’s an excellent driver and he downshifts expertly as he passes the slower cars. It’s exhilarating to race through the streets of Manhattan in his luxury sports car. For once, I’m above ground, rather than on the subway. It’s a totally different world up here. I’ve never even owned a car—like many of New York City’s poorer inhabitants.
Passing cars and speeding doesn’t bother me at all and I’m calm the whole drive.
But when we pull up to the restaurant, my heart suddenly starts to pound. I knew the restaurant would be fancy but I had no idea it would be this fancy.
I can tell just from the outside this is the type of place I’d never step foot in normally. Well, maybe it’s the type of place I’d work as a cleaner. But it’s not even the type of place I’ve ever worked as a waitress—it’s far too nice.
There’s a team of professional-appearing valet parkers that greet John as he pulls up. The engine roars and the clean-shaven valets look appreciatively at the car.
One valet opens my door, and another takes my hand, helping me out of the car.
John tips one of the valets two crisp one hundred dollar bills. “That’s for not taking the car joy riding,” says John. “It’s got a computer system in it that tells me where it’s been, so if I were you I wouldn’t even try.”
The valets are so professional they don’t even crack a smile. They act more like military men than anything else—or those guards in England that don’t move for hours and hours. All John and I get is a series of polite nods.
John swoops me into the restaurant where a series of waiters and maître d’s are there to bow at us and accommodate our every whim.
“A bottle of your finest champagne,” says John.
The waiter pours the bubbling substance for us, and we clink glasses. I’ve got the glass to my lips before I remember that I’m pregnant. So I just keep my lips closed and pretend to take a sip. John takes an inquisitive look at my glass but doesn’t say anything.
“I hope this isn’t too formal,” says John.
“This is great,” I say, my eyes growing wide as I glance around the restaurant.
This isn’t a restaurant for ordinary people. There are celebrities all o
ver the place. I recognize this people not from my daily life but from the tabloid pages of the newspapers and internet. I’ve read about a lot of their lives and feel like I know them.
I can’t help but noticing that John’s getting a lot of women checking him out, looking him up and down.
“Looks like you have a lot of female admirers,” I say.
“I don’t care about them at all,” says John, with a wave of his hand. “I’m only interested in you.”
“I couldn’t help doing a little research on you over the last month,” I say, slowly, not sure how to broach the topic.
“Oh?” says John, smiling at me. “And you found out I’m a womanizing…guy?”
“Exactly,” I say, winking at him. “You’ve been romantically linked, as they say, with some of the highest paid super models in the country. What do you want with a poor cleaning girl like me?”
John laughs. “I like how direct you are. Frankly, Sarah, you’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen in my life. I don’t know why you’re working as a cleaner now, but I know you’re destined for much greater things. Of course, you can do whatever you want. I couldn’t care less that you’re a cleaner and not a movie star. Plus, you don’t know how these movie stars and supermodels are. They’re not down to earth like you. They think the world is just waiting for an opportunity to serve them and give them what they want.”
“How do you know I’m not like that?” I say, with a twinkle in my eyes.
“You didn’t even accept my offer to promote you unfairly,” I say.
“How do you know it’d be unfair?”
“I love your sarcasm,” says John without a trace of sarcasm in his own voice.
Suddenly, John leans forward and kisses me full on the lips, right across the fancy table. He almost knocks over a very expensive looking glass full of water.
“They’re all looking at us,” I whisper to John.
“Let them look,” he says.
As John pulls away, the taste of his lips still on mine, I catch the glares of at least ten elegant women who obviously wonder what a cleaner is doing with the famous billionaire John Clark.
SEAL'd Lips: A Secret Baby Romance Page 22