Perfect Plans

by C. J. Wells

“No, not anymore. I’m actually freelancing. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m good, really”.

  My fake reassurance seems to work, as his focus returns to making dinner.

  “Freelance, wow. How’s that working out?” For the love all that’s holy, please tell me he isn’t paparazzi.

  “It’s a bitch”. He smirks. “But I had to take the leap. I left my job at the Chicago Tribune last year and haven’t looked back since”.

  “So, is that where you’re from?”

  “Yup, born and raised. I have to say, I was pretty pumped when Amira mentioned that you’re from Canada. Cheer’s to the Great White North”. He holds up his glass with a smile.

  His smile is infectious. Clinking my glass to his, I take another sip, my momentary panic attack at bay.

  Ok, so he worked for the Chicago Tribune. That’s certainly not gossipy material. It’s real, actual news, news. Right?

  I could simply ask him what he writes about, but let’s just play it safe. Ok. Moving on. However, I’ll leave out the fact that my boyfriend is a famous actor. Good plan.

  “So, your boyfriend travels for work as well?”

  Dammit.

  Caught off guard at the sudden reference to Alex, I fumble with my glass, knocking it over. “Shoot! I’m so sorry!” Grabbing the dishtowel, I attempt to soak up the red wine before it seeps into the wood block surface. “Will this stain? I’m so sorry, Andrew!”

  Reaching for a role of paper towels, he begins helping me, our hands brushing in the movement.

  Our eyes meet in a moment of awkward silence.

  “Aby, it’s okay”, he smiles, “I got it”. He takes the wine soaked cloth gently from my hand. “I’m sorry if bringing up your boyfriend made you uncomfortable”.

  Why is he saying that? Jesus, why am I so damn easy to read lately?

  “Not at all”, I lie. “I’m just clumsy”.

  “Good to know,” he jokes playfully, relieving me of my embarrassed guilt. “What about you? Are you working here in London? Or just enjoying an extended holiday?”

  “Hopefully, it’s a permanent move. I started my new job last week”. Feeling much better with the twist in conversation, I relax a little.

  “That’s great. Where?”

  “Ashley-Fines”.

  From the expression on his face, he’s familiar with the company. “You’ve heard of them?”

  “Oh, yeah. Great marketing firm. What’s the position?” He busies himself with cheese, grating it into a bowl.

  “Well, coincidently, it’s a freelance position with one of the marketing divisions. I can go into the office anytime, or work from home. It couldn’t have worked out better”.

  He looks up, listening intently as he prepares a tossed salad. “That sounds great. Freelance is the way to go”. Pausing, he looks at me, his lips turning up in a warm grin. “Cheers to that too”.

  He refills my wine, raising his glass once more.

  Smiling, I clink mine to his and take another sip.

  “The only problem I have right now is the daunting task of figuring out the subway system. I can’t very well spend all of my money cabbing back and forth to the office”.

  “Your boyfriend won’t be driving you to work in his bad-ass car?” he asks, placing a dish of warmed tortillas on the island.

  At my questioning silence, he continues, “What? Don’t you think a guy’s going to notice a freaking Austin Martin parked out front?”

  His mischievous smile is cute. Hell, he’s cute.

  Maybe I should find out if he’s single. Emily would certainly like to know.

  “Unfortunately, he’ll be away quite a bit, so, no, I won’t get to avail of his bad-ass car everyday”, I reply on a laugh.

  “That’s too bad. It’s one hell of a car. Have you driven it?” He takes a seat on the stool beside me, handing me the dish of warmed shells.

  Oh, I’ve driven it all right. I handled Alex’s stick beautifully. “I did. Briefly”.

  I begin preparing my fajita attempting to halt the heated visions of my experience with Alex in his amazing car, absentmindedly palming my phone in my pocket. I wonder when I’ll hear from him.

  “What’s his name anyway?”

  I look towards Andrew at his sudden question.

  “He does have one doesn’t he? Your boyfriend?”

  “Of course”, I laugh, “His name is Alex”.

  “Well, if Alex doesn’t have the time to show you around the tube, I’m your guy”.

  “Really? That would be great!”

  “Does tomorrow work?”

  “Absolutely”, I smile.

  “Great, let’s do it”, he flashes his pearly whites.

  This is awesome. Not only will I get a personal tour of the London Subway system, I’ll also fill another day without Alex. Things just keep getting better and better.

  “Cheers to my neighbor, and a great meal”, I offer up my glass.

  Turning towards me with his wide grin, he raises his glass, “Cheers”.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY

  “He-hello …”

  “Aby …”

  Leaning up a little, I frantically push my hair out of my face, holding the receiver closer to my ear. “Alex? Are you all right?”

  “Yes. Sorry to wake you”.

  “Don’t apologize. I was just worried, I thought something was wrong”, my breathlessness recovers.

  “Other than missing you? Everything is fine”.

  His admittance brings an instant smile to my face. I’m overjoyed to know that he’s missing me as much as I miss him.

  Taking a quick glance at the clock I note it’s three o’clock in the morning. That would make it seven at night in LA. He must have just finished his day. Waking to the sweet timber of his voice is something I would welcome any time - day or night.

  “Miss me, huh?” I reply teasingly, leaning back more comfortably into my pillow.

  “You have no idea. How’s night number two in your new flat?”

  Taking a moment to gaze at the empty bed beside me, I reply with the most honest answer that comes to mind, “Lonely”.

  “My sentiments exactly at the moment. If only you were here with me …”

  “And if I were with you…?” I add a flirtatious bite to my tone.

  The thought of what we would be doing if we were together, alone in his hotel room, gets my blood flowing. I’m practically drooling, my skin perking up. I’m tingling all over beneath instant goose bumps.

  “Tell me”, I whisper breathlessly.

  His breath comes audibly through the phone, augmented noticeably upon my request.

  Clearly he understands what I want. If I can’t have his hands on me, I want his words. A poor substitute, but I’ll take what I can get.

  “If I had you here beside me in this large king-sized bed… Oh Aby, we wouldn’t be talking, that’s a certainty”.

  “What would I be doing lying next to you on that big bed?”

  I’m practically panting. I‘ve never had phone sex before. He turns me into a wildcat, doing things I never thought I’d do. The sheer anticipation quickens my pulse, heating my skin.

  Pushing the covers off slightly, I await his response.

  “I believe the question is, Miss Ryan, what I would be doing”.

  “What would you be doing?” I question breathlessly; a partial whisper.

  My brain is practically fried and he hasn’t even said anything exceptionally racy yet. Solely the mere thought of his magic hands leaves me wanting, anticipating. Only, it’s not his hands currently sliding over my tank top covered breasts. It’s mine.

  “I’ll tell you, but I want you to do it for me. I want you to follow each and every instruction”.

  I’m breathing uncontrollably at his suggestion; closing my eyes in absolute submission to his verbal demands.

  “I’d slide my hands along your shoulders, curving them around your collarbone, grasping your breasts in
my palms, squeezing them. Are you cupping your tits for me, Aby? Are you running your fingers along your tight nipples? Tweaking them?”

  “Yes”, I admit breathlessly as I twist my nipple between my thumb and forefinger. “Alex …”

  “Rest the phone against your shoulder, sweetheart. I’d be using two hands”.

  I gasp at sensual timber of his reminder.

  Following his instruction, I adjust myself on the pillows, the phone resting securely in the crook of my neck.

  “I’d expose your nipples, bending my head downwards to savor one of the pink berries. Licking with the gentlest touch, my fingers teasing the other. Can you feel it, baby? Can you feel my tongue on your nipple?”

  “Y-yes…”

  “I’m sucking your hard nipple into my mouth. Greedily. You taste so good…”

  “God… Alex…”

  “I’m running my hand down your stomach, into your slick panties… sliding my fingers through your soaked lips… across your clit…”

  My body is convulsing as I mimic his words.

  Sliding my fingers through my wet folds, I brush them lightly across my engorged clit.

  I quake in response, breathing helplessly into the receiver.

  “Are you with me, Aby?” he whispers. “Are you rubbing your clit for me?”

  “Y-yes…”

  “Slide your finger inside, baby. Push it into your tight pussy, curve it slightly to push on that spot. You know which spot I’m talking about, don’t you? The one that makes you quiver?”

  His apt description emits a moan from my lips.

  Pushing my finger inside, I do as he asked, curving it, pumping it back and forth.

  My hips start mimicking sex as though he’s above me, pushing his hard cock inside me.

  The sensations are incredible, and he’s not even here.

  With my eyes closed tight, the sensual cadence of his voice is as though he’s here with me. His fingers inside me. The incessant stroking, the tugging and pulling on my nipple, they are all his touch.

  I can hear his harsh breaths. It’s an aphrodisiac amongst his shuffling sounds.

  “I can feel you stroking me, baby. Your tiny fingers wrapped around my cock as far as they can go. It feels so good. I can’t take it… I need to be inside you…”

  “Oh, God…” I murmur, spreading my legs farther apart, pushing my finger inside my needy core as far as it can go.

  “Open wide for me. Let me slide my cock deep…”

  At his words I slide another finger inside my seeping pussy, the fullness causing me to gasp. “Fuck me, Alex. Fill me…” I beg, fingering myself at a steady pace, my wetness coating my fingers.

  “Yes, baby. You’re so tight…” he whispers through accelerated breaths.

  The continued shuffling sounds on the other end of the line signal his constant stroking of his cock. My lust-fueled brain evokes an image that sends my ardor higher. I’m peaked on the edge of a precipice, ready to plunge head first into climax.

  “I’m going to come… make me come, Alex…”

  “Pinch your nipple for me, baby. Slide your thumb across your clit”.

  He knows me so well.

  Following his final instructions, I fall, screaming his name through the phone. My euphoria barely registering his labored breathing on the other end of the line, his guttural groan indicating his own climax.

  Remaining momentarily silent, we regain our composure, our breaths slowing with each passing second.

  “A few more days, Aby. A few more days and you’re mine”.

  ~

  “Good morning”, Andrew smiles as I open the door. “I’ve got coffee”. Holding up two large take-out cups, he flashes an even bigger smile.

  “Thanks, that’s very thoughtful”. I take one of the welcome morning treats. “Come on in”.

  Following me inside, he takes a seat on the sofa.

  “Where’d you get the coffee?”

  “Just down a few blocks, there’s a great little café. I hit it every morning. I’m a good cook, but my coffee sucks”, he chuckles. “It’s a little chilly out there this morning, you might want to grab a sweater”.

  Turning to look at him more closely, I note his dark grey wool hooded pullover; zipped slightly atop a white t-shirt, hanging over his blue jeans. I also notice his handsome face is still adorned with stubble, though slightly longer than it was yesterday.

  I wonder if he’s growing it out, or maybe that’s his style. Either way, it looks good on him. Like Alex, I bet he has to shave twice a day to avoid a five o’clock shadow.

  “I’ll just run upstairs and grab one. Back in a jiffy…”

  “Take your time, we have all day”, he calls out after me.

  Yes, we do, I remind myself, making my way into the bedroom. I hope this takes all day, or as much of it as possible. Just over two days to go. God, I can’t wait to see Alex. His middle of the night call was a very unexpected and amazing treat.

  Standing before the full-length mirror, I absently run my fingers along my jaw as I adjust my long wavy hair from under my sweater. The memories of my own touch at his sensually erotic instructions, send delicious tingles everywhere I had imagined him. Who knew I had that in me? Alexander Tate knows how to work magic.

  Closing my eyes, I bask in a vision of Alex - those tantalizing baby blue eyes and perfectly formed lips, the way they turn into a slightly crooked, dazzling smile; how I have to look up to take in his glorious face atop his tall beautifully sculpted form. He’s perfect in every way imaginable.

  Opening my eyes, I take in my bitten bottom lip. Oh, you have me hooked Alex Tate. Absolutely hooked.

  His effect on me looks good, I might add, noticing the healthy pink glow in my completely smitten face. I feel more than pretty in my long beige wool sweater, open over my ruffled white sleeveless blouse and dark skinny jeans. I feel beautiful. Radiating in my dream-like happiness.

  This is the way I’m supposed to feel.

  This is the beginning of my more.

  ~

  “I’m ready to go when you are”, I smile at Andrew as I step into the sitting room.

  “You look amazing”. He stares at me momentarily, his face suddenly filling with slightly embarrassed shyness. “Alex is a lucky guy”, he recovers with a genuine smile. “Kick-ass car and a beautiful lady. I may have to get some tips”.

  So he is single. I may have to confirm that fact for Emily. He’s more than cute, a really nice guy, cooks, loves to travel… Yes, I definitely feel a matchmaker role in the making.

  “Thanks for the compliment”, I smile, grabbing my bag, deciding it best to leave my interrogation of his love life for later. “Ready to go?” I pull the strap over my shoulder, the large satchel resting at my hip.

  “Let’s do it”, he stands.

  ~

  “We’re going to take the Circle Line, see that’s the yellow line here”, Andrew points to the map of the London Tube. “We’ll take this train until we reach Victoria. We’ll switch trains here, and get on the Victoria Line, this blue one. That will take us to Pimlico and then we’re back on foot”, he adds, tracing his finger over the described routes.

  On the map, it doesn’t look that difficult. It does, however, look like a lot of area to cover. But it’s hard to tell from the outline of roads, parks and landmarks.

  We’ll be crossing through southwest Central London as we make our way towards the River Thames. I’ve done it in the car with Alex, though that’s always filled with conversation - a quick passing of time, lost in his beguiling charm. I’ve even walked pieces of it on separate occasions. But this route, and new means, is a mystery to me.

  “The commute on the tube won’t be much longer than your ride in the car - or in a taxi, depending on traffic”, Andrew looks up towards me, “Has Alex driven you to work before?”

  “Yes”. Just imagining Alex’s gorgeous face, his strong hands - one on the steering wheel, the other on my thigh - fills me with delicious tingles
.

  “Well, you were right to decide to forgo the taxi route. That would certainly add up in Central London traffic. There’s the train”, he flashes me a smile, grabbing my hand to pull me through the throng of waiting riders.

  Releasing me as we take our seats, his eyes find mine. “Sorry, I just wanted to make sure I didn’t lose you in the crowd”.

  “Don’t apologize. I’m grateful you didn’t lose me”, I smile at him reassuringly. “I can’t get over how busy it is. Is it always like this?”

  “Welcome to Central London”, he flashes his pearly whites.

  He really has great teeth.

  “It must be the same in Toronto, no?”

  “I never rode the subway in Toronto”.

  “Really?”

  “Nope. Liam...” I stop at the casual slip of my husband’s name.

  “Liam?”

  “My fri-end… He had to pass my office on his way to work, so I always had a ride”.

  “Convenient”, he offers his warm closed-lip smile. “Your friend makes you blush when you talk about him”.

  He shrugs his shoulders at my shocked, and further embarrassed expression. “What can I say, I’m a journalist. I notice things. And I don’t really have a filter when it comes to my curiosity”.

  “A walking, talking lie-detector. Good to have around, I guess”, I offer a playful smile with my joke, successfully disarming my pending defensiveness. I really have to get that under control. It’s not Andrew’s fault that my former life easily falls into conversation. It’s an inevitable happenstance; one I’m going to have to get used to.

  “I’m your guy”. He returns my smile. “So, Liam’s not just a friend, is he?”

  Geez, this guy really is no holds-barred. “Busted”, I smirk, “He’s my soon to be ex-husband”.

  “Ahhh, the back-story behind the big move surfaces”.

  “Yes”, I nod. “I decided to start a new life; a fresh start far away from the one I walked away from”, I confess, looking towards the window; recalling the decision and all of its motions, before and after.

  “You left Liam”. Andrew isn’t asking; he’s working out the story as he goes with my blubbering assistance.