by Ariel Storm
Maybe I needed to attempt to introduce a new routine. Maybe I could jump-start my muse again if I did something I hadn’t tried before. Remembering my grandmother’s favorite saying about idle hands, I jumped up and looked for something—anything—to do. In my bedroom I found that I had a couple of loads worth of dirty laundry that could be sorted, washed and folded.
*****
I unloaded the last of my laundry from the dryer and dumped the warm clothing on the old plastic table. I started the mundane task of folding in the community laundry room art my apartment complex and tried like hell to keep my mind on my non-existent manuscript. Just as I held one of my t-shirts in my hand Jack walked in and pulled his clothes out of one of the dryers. My body froze, I tried to remember how to fold a shirt, but my brain refused to send the signal to my limbs.
“Do you mind if I share?”
Jack pointed to the half of the table I wasn’t using. A shiver of awareness traveled down my spine at his nearness. He hefted his basketful of clean, dry laundry next to me and started folding. Even though it was a simple, mindless task I couldn’t concentrate on anything other than trying to remember the basics of folding. I needed to say something. I’d waited months for an opportunity like this. I had him alone I should at least introduce myself to him.
“Don’t you live in building two-twenty? Right across from me? I’m Violet Hendrix.”
I extended my hand and contracted every muscle I possessed in order to keep it steady. Inside I was shaking like leaf, but he didn’t need to know that.
“Violet, what a beautiful name.”
His hand clasped around mine and between the jolt of electricity in his grip and the seductive lilt when he’d said my name I didn’t know how I was still standing on solid ground.
“Jack Riley, by the way.”
We released our shake and went back to folding. Side by side. Outwardly somehow I was keeping it together, but I was squealing on the inside.
“How do you like the apartment complex so far?”
“All the tenants seem friendly and I like the community. I love my unit. It has a much better view than the last apartment I rented.”
I fumbled the pair of lace panties I’d been trying to conceal. Did his words carry a double meaning? Had he been watching me in the hot tub the other night?
“My old apartment overlooked the parking lot of a busy shopping plaza. I much prefer the view of the courtyard and pool that I have now.” He dropped the towel he was folding and looked at me. “Is everything okay? You look kind of pale.”
“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s probably just the lighting in here. The fluorescents overhead don’t really flatter my skin tone.” I tried to give a self-effacing giggle.
“So, how long have you lived here, Violet?”
“Three years. Hey, I’ve been to New Orleans, too,” I pointed to his souvenir shirt from a popular restaurant in the Big Easy. “What did you think of the city?”
“Loved it. I went about six months ago for a work trip and didn’t get to stay nearly long enough. The food was amazing, especially the beignets at Café Du Monde. Plus, the city’s atmosphere was unlike anywhere else I’ve ever visited. Bourbon Street was like a non-stop party.”
“Oh, Nola is lots of fun. I had an aunt who used to live there, so I’ve been more times than I can count. The summers are hot, sticky and oppressive but I love Louisiana in the winter and spring. Mardi Gras is awesome.”
I was so glad I’d seen his t-shirt. My nerves were starting to wane and while I could think of about a billion other things I’d rather do with Jack than talk about New Orleans, at least I wasn’t a stammering, jittery mess anymore.
The fitted sheet I’d tucked under my chin while trying to fold it slid down my torso onto the floor. I went to grab it, but he was faster. With a few quick moves, he had the bedding formed into a neat square. It was both arousing and surreal to see this powerful Dom doing something as domestic and routine as helping fold sheets.
I looked up into his golden brown eyes and was mesmerized by the hue. I’d never met someone like him before, who could turn an ordinary task into an erotic situation. He handed me the sheet and our fingers brushed together, the air practically crackled with sexual electricity.
“Thanks, you didn’t have to do that.”
We stared at each other for immeasurable moments. Finally I broke the trance and grabbed my laundry basket. I didn’t know what to say or do. I knew that the mood had shifted from friendly to something more. There was heat between us, I knew that and I think he did too. But I’d never been good at making the first move and with a man like Jack—a sexual Dominate—the last thing I wanted to do was try to take control, I didn’t think that would appeal to him.
Unsure of what to do next, I figured it was better to play it low-key. I casually smiled and tossed him a wave.
“I’ll see you around Jack. It was nice to meet you.”
“Violet.”
I spun around when he said my name.
“Yes?”
“It was nice to meet you, too. Thanks for the help with my laundry.”
“Anytime, Jack.”
*****
I was putting away my clean clothes when I found a pair of boxer shorts mixed in with the few pairs I wore as pajamas. I knew who they belonged to without even unfolding them. The blue and green plaid shorts must’ve somehow made it into my pile of clothes while Jack and I had been folding and talking.
This was good.
I rubbed the soft fabric between my fingers. My mouth watered as I pictured Jack wearing these and nothing else. As much as I wanted to keep them—did that mean I was a sick individual or just really, really horny?—the underwear gave me an excuse to go to Jack’s. And a part of me wondered if that was what he’d planned by dropping them into my things.
Wait, had he planted them?
Nah, a man as smooth and sexy as Jack wouldn’t need to go to such lengths to get a woman. They’d probably ended up in my basket by accident. Since fate had smiled on me, there was no reason for me to bungle this chance. I’d return them right away.
I knocked on his door and he answered quickly.
“Violet, hi. Good to see you again.”
“Hi, Jack. I found something in my laundry basket…I think they belong to you.” I’d left the hand holding the shorts behind my back. I thrust my hand forward. I showed him the plaid boxers I’d folded into a neat square.
“Oh, yeah. Those belong to me. Thanks. You know, usually I take a woman out on a date or two before she handles my underwear.”
I couldn’t help but giggle at his attempt to lighten the mood. Had I embarrassed the aggressive Dom next door?
He took the item from my hands and stepped aside, indicating he’d like me to enter.
“Would you like to come in?”
A chill traveled the length of my spine when I crossed the threshold into his living room. How could I turn down a chance to go into his apartment? Even though I’d seen a lot of what I referred to as his sin den through the windows, I had to pretend I was looking at his living room for the first time.
“Very nice. You have good taste. Your place is not the proverbial bachelor pad like my brother’s apartment. His living room furniture consists of a couple of zero gravity chairs and big flat screen TV.”
I stifled a moan when I was enveloped by the butter soft texture of his dark brown leather sofa.
“Would you like a drink?”
“No, thanks.”
“Okay, excuse me a moment. I’ll be right back.”
He walked toward his bedroom, I guess to put his boxers away. He came back empty handed.
“So, what do you do for a living, Violet?” He sat down on the other end of the couch.
“I’m a writer, but these days, just barely. Lately I haven’t been writing much of anything. I’ve kind of got the dreaded writer’s block.”
“What do you write?”
“Mysteries. I’m working on a new series
, it’s still in the developmental stages, but I’m supposed to have already delivered the first book to my editor. I’ve kind of hit a wall. For whatever reason, my muse is no longer visiting me so I’m late getting the manuscript turned in to her.”
“Wow, I can’t imagine writing an entire book. I think I could write a couple of sentences then I’d be hitting a wall, literally. Like banging my head against one. English was always my least favorite subject in school. Too many rules to follow.”
“Oh? So, you don’t like following rules? You’re a bad boy are you?”
“I don’t know if I’d go that far, but I prefer making the rules to following them.”
Beneath my cotton t-shirt my nipples hardened. I could follow any rule he dished out. With pleasure.
“Well, don’t you have to follow rules at work? What do you do for a living?”
“I’m in IT. I mainly work as a consultant for a few small companies. The upsides are that I’m my own boss and I get to choose which companies I work with. The downside is that when something critical happens, like if the servers crash at two in the morning, my phone rings. In the long run, it’s a fair trade off. At least I think it is.”
“That explains the computer monitors.” I pointed to the three spread across his desk. “If I’ve impressed you by saying I’m a writer, you’ve just impressed me with your profession. All I know about computers is where the button is to turn it on and how to access my word processing software. That’s pretty much it.”
He laughed at my lame attempt at humor and I thought that was a great sign that he at least liked me. I decided to try and take the conversation in a more personal direction.
“So, do you have any other hobbies, besides computers?”
Without even trying to, my voice had grown husky. My mind was filled with dark, sensual images. I’d been spying on the man for long enough to know what his hobbies and interests were and they turned me on. It was arousing to secretly know so much about a person, but to pretend otherwise. Although I seriously doubted that Jack was going to tell me that he was a Dom, but maybe there were some other things about him that I didn’t know.
“I used to like surfing, but not so much anymore.”
“Oh, and why is that?”
“For one thing, I wasn’t very good at it to start with. I just liked being out there. It’s an amazing feeling to become one with the ocean and the waves. What about you? What do you when you’re not writing?”
“These days, the majority of my time is being spent not writing, but I really hope to change that soon. What I like to do for fun is ice skating. Obviously, that’s not something I get a chance to do a lot of here in California. I grew up in Minnesota and I could ice skate there on the lake every winter. I guess the closest thing I have to ice skating here is rollerblading and I’ve done that a few times. It’s just not the same as being out on the ice, the cold air stinging my cheeks.”
Jack opened his mouth as if to say something but the shrill ringing of his cell phone interrupted. He checked the screen and I knew it had to be a work related call that he couldn’t ignore. His mouth changed from a smile to a tight, thin line and his posture went from relaxed and open to much more rigid. Evidentially he didn’t like whoever was calling. Or maybe he just resented the interruption.
“I’m sorry. I have to take this call.” He put the phone to his ear. Not only had his facial expressions and posture gotten different, even his tone of voice changed. “This is Jack.”
He sprung up from the couch and went to his fancy computer equipment. The three screens changed from a black screensaver mode to in color when he moved the mouse.
“Okay, let me log in and check some things and then I’ll call you back. I think it’s a fairly simple issue to resolve, but I won’t know for sure until I access it remotely. It shouldn’t take longer than ten minutes to get back in touch with you.”
He disengaged the call and turned to me.
“I’m sorry to cut our conversation short. I have to dig in and do some work here. Can I confess something?”
“Of course.”
“I’d like to get to know you further. I’ve enjoyed our conversation and I don’t want you to feel neglected while I fiddle about with lines of code on my computers. Would you like to come back, maybe tomorrow evening? I’ll even make dinner.”
“Dinner and a scintillating conversation? How can I turn that down? I’ll see you then. Should we say around six?”
“That sounds perfect. I’m looking forward to it,” he promised.
I hoped my facial expression didn’t register the thrill I got when he put his hand on my lower back as he escorted me out his front door. Grateful that our apartment complex didn’t have security cameras in the building’s breezeways, once I was out in the hall and absolutely certain he’d closed his door, I did a little jig. Could this be real? Did I really have a date with the deliciously controlled Dom of my sexual fantasies?
Chapter Three
Even though it was a casual date at the Dom’s place, I took my time getting ready. I’d spent the entire afternoon plucking, waxing, polishing and primping every inch of my body in anticipation of what I hoped would happen later. Just as much time and thought had gone into my wardrobe selection. I wanted an outfit that looked sexy, yet casual. My goal was to display this sort of effortless beauty, as if I simply possessed the fashion savvy and impeccable genes that allowed me to look stunning and desirable naturally.
In the end the outfit that had conveyed my hoped for appearance was a pair of dark wash skinny jeans that showcased what I knew was my best feature, my ass. One of my ex-lovers had compared the shape of my rear end to that of a ripe peach. Since my posterior was the main attraction, I paired the jeans with a plum-colored silk blouse. The top had a conservative neckline, which was fine really, since I didn’t have a whole lot going on in the cleavage department anyway.
I did my makeup in soft, complimentary hues. My eyes were outlined with a charcoal pencil and I accentuated my hazel irises with shadow in a deep eggplant tone. Mascara and a nude-colored lip gloss completed my cosmetics. Thanks to the curling iron, my naturally stick straight brown hair was arranged in sexy, tousled waves.
I gave myself one final glance in the full-length mirror in my bedroom before slipping on my black flats. I grabbed my keys and the bottle of wine I’d set out to take with me. Maybe it was presumptuous of me to show up on Jack’s doorstep with chardonnay, but I hoped it—coupled with my sexy, but casual appearance—wordlessly conveyed I was interested in him beyond a neighbor. I was almost one hundred percent certain that Jack wanted the same thing, but better to dispel any doubts he might have.
“Good call on the wine.”
He let me in and I didn’t know what made my mouth water more, the smell coming from the stove or the way he looked. Gone were the business casual clothes I’d seen him in on our previous encounter. For our dinner he’d dressed casually, but to me he’d never looked sexier.
The top three buttons on the Henley shirt he wore exposed the tan skin of his upper chest. His light brown eyes and olive skin tone looked complementary in the Army green hue. I also appreciated that the cotton fabric hugged his biceps. He turned and walked toward the kitchen and I noticed the way his pair of well-worn jeans accentuated his ass.
“It smells fantastic in here.”
“Thank you. I’ll go ahead and put the tilapia in the oven and open the chardonnay.”
I took the glass offered to me and sipped one of my favorite wines.
“These pictures of the desert are stunning. Do you know where were they taken?”
“New Mexico. I’m from Albuquerque originally. I took all of them years ago, when I still lived there.”
“Wow, you took these? They look professionally done, so I just figured you’d picked them up at an art fair or something. Is there no end to your talents?” I put my wine glass down so I could count off all the things I knew he was good at on my fingers. “Computers, surfing, ph
otography and by the smell of things, you’re a pretty decent cook, too.” I silently added the one talent I was most interested in seeing in action: his sexy dominant side. “Oh, and you can fold a fitted sheet into a perfect square like Martha freaking Stewart.”
I picked up my chardonnay from the kitchen counter and lifted the glass toward him in a toast.
“What can I say, my mother trained me well. I guess you could call her a real Suzy Homemaker type. She loved being domestic and entertaining guests. We were close, so I guess a bit of that rubbed off on me.”
“Were close? I’m so sorry. She sounds like a great woman.”
“Thank you, she was. However, she wasn’t great at taking care of herself. She was the type of person who always put everyone else’s needs before her own. By the time she said something about not feeling well, it was too late for the doctors to do anything about the tumors, all they could do was make her comfortable during the short time she’d had left.”
Emboldened by his vulnerability, I seized the opportunity to comfort him, even if it was only a small gesture. He tossed steamed vegetables into wild rice. I put my hand on his shoulder as he worked on our meal. A network of muscles bunched beneath my hand as he moved and mixed the dish together.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
And I truly was. I didn’t have a relationship with my mother. She’d disappeared from my life when I was still in grade school. I’d always envied people like Jack, who’d had the June Cleaver type of mom.
“Well, I’m sorry that I’ve turned this into a pity party. What do you say we eat and talk about something much lighter?”
“That sounds nice. Do you need me to set the table?” I glanced at the small modern-style dinette. “Just let me know where the plates and silverware are.”
Jack pointed to the cabinet and drawers. I got to work while he pulled the fish from the oven and finished up the rice and vegetables. We sat down across from one another at the rectangular table and he topped off our glasses.
“I’m in heaven. The tilapia is amazing. Well, actually, everything is delicious. So, tell me, what brought you to California?” I paused to sip my chardonnay and pointed to the pictures of the desert. “From the looks of the photos, it seems like you really loved that place. I mean, I could be totally off base, but people don’t generally hang pictures of places they hate in their houses.”