by Kris Starr
Hugging her extra pillow to her chest, Jessie sighed, reveling in the memory of Nicholas’ hands on her, of the taste of his skin. What an absolutely edible specimen of manhood. And what a shame she’d never see him again.
Just the thought of his touch, of the intensity in his eyes, sent the faintest tingle over her body. She’d barely gotten anywhere with him, yet she felt as though they’d performed every single maneuver in the Kama Sutra. Without a doubt, Jessie was certain she knew him. Knew his body intimately. And that was the scariest part of all. A frown flickered over her face at the thought of Gram’s part in this little production, but Jessie forcibly pushed the thought away. Right now, the circumstances around her encounter with the guy were irrelevant. There was time enough to be angry with Gram, but this morning was for fantasizing. About Nicholas’ hands. And mouth. And the things he could probably do very well with both.
She shuddered with contentment. Okay, well, he was now merely a memory, but that didn’t have to stop her from reliving the evening, did it? Jessie didn’t want to get out of bed, didn’t want to break the spell of this dreamy lassitude. Closing her eyes, she pictured him—the amazing ass hugged by worn jeans, his stubbled skin, his long fingers—and her nipples hardened. A sweet drowsiness weighted her limbs, the heat of her memories warming her flesh.
Slipping a hand up under her T-shirt, Jessie lightly fingered a swollen nipple. Imagining his mouth on her, his dark hair against her pale skin, her breath caught in her throat and a flash of fire blossomed between her legs.
Oh yes, Nicholas. Touch me.
Fingers plucking at her breast, her other hand snaked its way down her stomach, underneath the waistband of her panties. It had been a while since she’d made herself come—frankly, with Gram around it just seemed wrong to give her that much control—but now that orgasm hung tantalizingly within reach. Nicholas had lit the fuse, and the result was inevitable.
Sliding her middle finger between folds that were wet and slick and ready, Jessie let out a tiny whimper. Picturing Nicholas’ hands, then mouth, then cock tormenting her pussy, playing with her clit, she was nearly ready to come right then and there. Squirming, she teased herself, drawing out the pleasure for as long as she could stand it. Suddenly overheated, Jessie kicked the bedclothes away, spreading her legs wide for her fantasy man.
Oh yes, that was it. Just a few more strokes…
“Jessie darlin’? There’s a new movie on. Come watch it—maybe you’ll learn somethin’.” The voice outside her bedroom door paused. “It’s called Denine Does Detroit. And woo-ee, this Denine’s a piece of work. You should see what she’s doing to these three construction workers—”
No. No way. Gram had cost Jessie her chance for a few minutes of pleasure at the club. Not this time. Putting a pillow over her head, she bit her bottom lip, concentrating on the spiraling wave of bliss that ebbed just out of reach.
“She’s giving one of ’em the most energetic blowjob I’ve ever seen—”
“Shut up, Gram!” Jessie pictured herself back in that dim hallway, on her knees, running her tongue along the underside of Nicholas’ cock. Her breath hitched in her throat.
“And the second one’s got her bent over backward, his cock in her—”
Oh. Oh. Jessie shuddered, her body beginning to make the ascent. In passing, she realized that Gram’s descriptions were helping to turn her on, but pushed that thought away as fast as she could. If she really wanted to, she could worry about that ick factor later.
“The third guy’s strokin’ so hard I think he’s gonna pull that poor thing right off—”
Jessie pictured Nicholas’ strong hands wrapped around his cock, imagined how he would stroke himself, fantasized about the look on his face as he came—and reached her own precipice. Jessie hung there, lungs frozen, her heart ceasing its customary rhythm for the longest of beats…and then shuddered from the top of her head to the tips of her toes as the tidal wave crashed over her, threatening to pull her under with its frenetic force.
Releasing muscles that she hadn’t even realized she’d tensed, Jessie collapsed onto the mattress, warmth permeating every appendage. She breathed deeply, mentally kissing Nicholas, and yawned, sated.
“Was it good for you, darlin’?” came Gram’s sly cackle.
That was it. That was the last freakin’ straw. Jessie couldn’t even spend a few minutes daydreaming about a gorgeous man and enjoying her post-orgasm afterglow without being rudely interrupted by an obnoxious, interfering, cable-porn-stealing ghost. Growling at the languor that was rapidly becoming a distant memory, she yanked the bedside table’s drawer open and grabbed the business card that Peter Murray had handed to her last night. At the time, she had barely given the card a cursory glance. Now she read it carefully—Unexplained phenomena ruining your life? Let our caring staff help.
The back listed a street address she didn’t recognize, a telephone number and website information. Seizing the impulse, Jessie lifted the cordless handset from her night table and dialed the number, hoping that someone would answer at this hour of the morning.
She wasn’t prepared for the apparently over-caffeinated, perky female voice on the other end.
“Goooooood morning! New Perceptions, this is Edie.”
“Uh, good morning. My name is Jessie LaFontaine—”
“Oh yes! Ms. LaFontaine. Is there a problem with your appointment?”
Jessie blinked. What, are these people all freaking psychic or something?
“My—my appointment?”
“Yes, dear. You’re down for two o’clock this afternoon with Dr. Federov. You didn’t need to change it, did you?”
Jessie blinked and bit back a laugh. These people knew she was coming, even before she’d called them? Perhaps this would be a suitable place to take her problem.
“No. No, I don’t need to change it. I…I just needed directions to your office.”
“Oh! Of course!”
The woman named Edie rattled off a series of cross-streets and a description of the building. Thanking her, Jessie disconnected the call and tossed the handset onto the bed.
Exhaling noisily, Jessie collapsed back onto the mattress. So much for playing with Nicholas—and herself—she thought regretfully. Perhaps it was for the best anyway. As pleasurable as it had been, something was missing. It was an emptiness that was poignantly obvious. Sitting up, Jessie swung her legs over the bed’s edge, dropping her feet onto the cool parquet floor. She might as well get out of bed now. Rising and crossing the room, she snagged her pink terrycloth bathrobe off the hook on the back of the bedroom door. She could shower, check her email, surf her favorite websites and bulletin boards and get a big pot of coffee started. Not necessarily in that order.
Bracing herself against whatever havoc Gram had wreaked in the apartment this morning, Jessie headed for the bathroom.
* * * * *
Blinking rapidly in the brilliant sunshine, Jessie stepped through the apartment building’s lobby door and pushed her sunglasses farther up on her nose. She’d already decided that it would be infinitely easier to flag a cab. Even with Edie’s instructions, she had no idea where this office was and wasn’t about to start fighting with commuters on the subway.
“Afternoon, Jessie.”
Stumbling with surprise, Jessie grabbed at the cast-iron handrail of the building’s front steps. “Peter?”
Amazingly, the cab was parked directly in front of her building, the driver in question lounging against the car’s hood with a newspaper and a takeout coffee cup.
Positive that her day couldn’t possibly get any weirder, Jessie scrambled for some semblance of normalcy. “What are you doing here?”
Peter shrugged, pushed back his newsboy cap with one thumb and scratched his forehead. “I’m here to drive you to your appointment. Hope you don’t mind.”
Eyeing the tall man warily, Jessie slowly shook her head. “Uh, no, I guess I don’t mind, but how did you know I had an appointment today?”<
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Gallantly, the cabbie opened the rear door for her. “Call it fate. Call it luck. Call it karma.” He shrugged. “You’d rather take the bus?”
Jessie didn’t hesitate a second longer. “No way,” she said, clambering into the rear of the cab.
“Where’s Gram this morning?” Peter asked, a hint of wariness in his voice as he settled himself behind the wheel. His normally ruddy face was slightly pale.
“Oh she’s around. I can guarantee she’ll show up at some point. She’s developed a thing for you, so I’m surprised she hasn’t graced us with her presence yet.” Pulling a hair elastic from her jacket pocket, Jessie began plaiting her still slightly damp hair into its usual single braid.
“Leave it loose.”
Jessie’s hands stilled, and she glanced toward the rearview. “Excuse me?” The nerve of the guy—trying to tell her what to do. Geez, he was almost as bad as Gram.
“I said leave your hair down. It looks nice that way.” Peter’s mouth quirked into a brief, small smile.
Jessie’s lips parted, but the snarky retort strangely vanished into thin air. Finger-combing the woven strands loose, she stared at Peter’s reflection. His attention was elsewhere, focused on the near gridlock surrounding them, and she took the time to study his round, open face. It wasn’t that she knew this older man very well—in fact, she barely knew him at all, if she were honest—but today his eyes were troubled and shadowed with faint, sooty crescents, as though his night had been just as rough as hers—but certainly for different reasons. Not for the first time, Jessie wondered just who the guy was and exactly what in hell was going on.
* * * * *
New Perceptions’ waiting area made every effort to appear solemn and respectable, perhaps in an effort to temper the nontraditional variety of service supplied here. Subtle, discreet lighting added to the illusion of privacy but also gave the room a rich warmth. There was a sense of comfort here, of acceptance, as well as an unspoken promise.
Jessie crossed the empty seating area, skirting the heavy, dark leather furniture, her boots thumping solidly on the wood flooring. The hairsprayed cherub behind the desk could be none other than Edie, Jessie thought, and as she approached, the woman beamed.
“I have an appointment,” Jessie murmured. “My name’s Jessie LaFon—”
“Oh yes! Ms. LaFontaine! So you had no trouble finding our office, then?”
Jessie smiled and shook her head. “No, none, thank you. Your directions were perfect, and thankfully, the cabbie knew just where to go.”
Edie nodded thoughtfully. “Of course he did, dear. Now please have a seat, and I’ll let Dr. Federov know that you’ve arrived.”
Selecting a comfortable-looking brown leather club chair, Jessie scoured the available magazines stacked neatly on the coffee table’s surface. Studiously ignoring the copy of Technology Today, she decided that a dose of People would be much easier on the brain.
Idly turning pages, Jessie realized Gram was nowhere to be seen. She’d appeared halfway through the cab ride and immediately proceeded to at once flatter, tease and proposition Peter—much to the cabbie’s apparent dismay. Although, Jessie thought wryly, he seemed to perk up after a while, verbally sparring with Gram with an impressive level of talent.
By now, she’s probably figured out a way to get her hand down his pants again, Jessie thought, the idea sending a shooting pain behind her left eye. Mentally shrugging her shoulders, Jessie decided that whatever Gram was up to was none of her business. Besides, Peter was a grown man. He could certainly handle whatever Gram threw his way. And maybe it was a good thing that Gram had left her alone for a while. If this Doctor Federov turned out to be good-looking, Gram would just make matters worse.
“Ms. LaFontaine?” Edie appeared next to Jessie’s chair. “Dr. Federov is in a brief conference with the rest of the staff, but he should be available shortly. I can show you to his office if you’d like.”
“That’s fine.” Tossing the magazine onto the table, Jessie rose, wiping her suddenly damp palms on her cargo pants. She followed the petite woman through another door, into an elegant private office, where the theme of leather furniture and subdued lighting continued.
“Just have a seat, dear. Would you like some tea or coffee?”
Jessie shook her head. “Oh, no thank you.”
“Fine. The doctor will be with you in just a moment.” With that, Edie exited the office, pulling the door closed behind her.
Too anxious and frankly curious to sit, Jessie wandered through the suite, stopping in front of a solid teak bookcase. Volume after leather-bound volume lined the shelves, with nary a knickknack to be seen. No photographs either, but a couple of flourishing Boston ferns were thriving in their perches near the window. Likely Edie’s doing, Jessie thought.
Turning her attention to the wall behind the heavy desk, she studied the numerous framed diplomas and certificates. She could never have this sort of patience to stay in school and earn all those pieces of paper. This doctor was probably pretty nerdy. Weren’t most of them? Years of noses stuck in books would have little effect on a social life.
At that thought, Jessie snorted and moved to the window. The cream-colored Venetian blinds were tightly shut, and she leaned in close to peer through the cracks down at the cars in the parking lot below. She was one to talk. She’d only gone to school for a total of four years, not counting all the extra computer courses she’d taken. Was her social life any better? Of course, she had this extra little factor that most people didn’t—
“Jessie, darlin’, I have a surprise for you.”
Gram’s raspy whisper didn’t surprise Jessie in the least. “I wondered when you’d show up. What were you doing, assaulting poor Peter?”
Gram clucked her tongue. “Now darlin’. Would I do something like that? Peter and I were merely having ourselves a little talk. But that’s not the point. The point is—”
“I know. You’ve got a surprise. Thanks but no thanks, Gram. I don’t need any surprises right now. Besides, you might want to get out of here. I don’t want you hanging around for the next hour or so.”
“Oh darlin’, I know what you’re up to.” The blinds remained still, unaffected, as Gram seated herself on the window ledge. “I hate to tell you this, but it’s not going to work.”
“That’s your opinion, Gram. Now please go away so I can talk to Dr. Federov in private.”
“But Jessie—”
“Would you just get out?” Jessie struggled to keep her voice even, but the volume had started to rise.
“But I just got here, Ms. LaFontaine.”
Jessie froze. That deep, masculine voice certainly wasn’t Gram’s. Oh crap.
Gram tittered. Jessie shot her a murderous look then straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. Okay, time to try to look sane in front of the good doctor. She forced her lips into what she hoped would pass for a pleasant smile and turned around.
Jesus Christ, no. It can’t be. The universe can’t be this sadistic.
Nicholas. Real, and very much in the flesh. Looking delectably gorgeous in sexy, wire-rimmed glasses and clutching a file folder. What were the odds, in all of New York, that her psychologist would be the same guy she’d almost given a blowjob to in a bar? Unable to even begin to consider the probabilities and possibilities of this very situation, Jessie’s brain glommed onto the next most important thing—if she thought he looked good dressed casually, the man looked amazing in a jacket and tie. Jessie gripped the window ledge behind her, the edge biting into her palms.
For what seemed an eternity, she and Nicholas stared at each other. Then he seemed to find his voice.
“So it’s Jessie LaFontaine, is it?”
Jessie nodded, a flush heating her cheeks. “Yes. Dr. Federov.”
He shrugged. “You can call me Nicholas. I think we can safely say we’re on a first-name basis, can’t you?” He indicated the leather club chair. “Have a seat.”
As she seated he
rself, he settled on the sofa across from her, crossing his legs so that a calf rested atop the other knee. He placed the folder on his lap, flipped it open and selected a sheet of paper, giving it a brief scan.
“So I understand you’re having trouble with, what…a ghost?” Nicholas dug momentarily in his jacket’s inner pocket and extracted a pen. He scribbled quickly on the sheet.
“Y-yes.” Jessie managed. She stared at him, confused. How did he know about Gram? And what was this standoffishness—avoidance? Extreme professionalism? Why wasn’t he saying anything? He obviously remembered her, so what was going on here?
“Ask him about the bar, darlin’.”
Gram’s appearance on the chair’s armrest startled Jessie. She’d completely forgotten about the woman.
“No,” Jessie hissed under her breath.
But not quietly enough.
Nicholas’ gaze snapped up. “Pardon me? Do you have a problem with a ghost or not?”
Jessie quickly shook her head. “Yes. I have a problem with a ghost.”
Nicholas leveled an assessing gaze at her for a long moment before returning to his paper.
“How does this ghost manifest itself?”
“Herself. She’s female.”
Nicholas made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat and jotted something down on the paper.
Jessie dug her fingers into the arms of her chair. This was nuts. Maybe it was time to take a chance, regardless of whether it was Gram’s idea or not.
“What are you doing?” Jessie forced the words out.
Nicholas lifted his head again. “Excuse me?”
“I said what are you doing? You haven’t said anything about the nightclub.”
Again, a long moment. He closed the file folder and placed it on the coffee table.
“I’m sorry. Seeing you took me completely off guard.” His expression softened. “It was rude of me.”
Jessie bit her lip. Now that they were touching the edge of honesty, she didn’t know what to say.