An Acquired Taste

by Mason, Jude

The meeting took more than the allotted hour, but it would bring in both welcomed revenue, and some good PR, so she didn't rush them. The aide took notes, and provided numbers and clearly defined guidelines as to what their firm required. The last half hour proved to be more of a fending off unwanted attention by an over-exuberant male chauvinist than business, but it was all part and parcel with being a female in control. It annoyed her, but she put up with it for the sake of her employee's paychecks.

  Finally, she ushered both of them out and breathed a sigh of relief when Jean, Ms Simms, smiled and shrugged her shoulders as if to say, 'sorry'. Cynthia almost felt sympathy for the woman, but knew she was quite capable of taking care of herself. She'd also handled her boss' advances deftly throughout the meeting.

  She packed up her weekend's paperwork and slung her bag over her shoulder on her way out. She'd gratefully accepted Sammy's offer to clear up the office, and was soon on her way home.

  Traffic crawled. At a stoplight, she shrugged out of her jacket and unfastened the top button of her white silk blouse. With the windows wide open, and the radio blasting alternative rock, her blood pounded with a growing excitement of the weekend ahead.

  When she neared the house, she noticed Caleb's truck was in the driveway, blocking her from parking in her usual spot, but she knew he'd have a good reason. He'd better, or she'd make sure he paid dearly. Smiling, she wondered if he was looking forward to Saturday morning as much as she was.

  She parked near the road, grabbed her purse and the work she'd do over the next couple of days. Heading into the house, she heard hammering from the back of the house. When she walked in, she realized it wasn't from the back, but from the roof. The steady slap, slap, slap of the nail gun echoed hollowly.

  She dropped her purse by the door and slipped out of her shoes. Paperwork landed on the coffee table as she made her way through into the dining room. Opening the sliding door, she saw that the windows were in. Walking through the room towards the back, she saw rolls of roofing paper and stacks of shingles just outside the soon to be back door. Caleb, dressed in a pair of loose fitting khaki shorts and tank, was climbing down a ladder a couple of feet away from the doorway. When he caught sight of her, he smiled.

  "You're in a good mood," she said, and hopped out of the doorway onto the lawn. Her feet sank into the cool grass and she couldn't stop a sigh of pleasure. She wriggled her toes and hummed her appreciation. Turning around, she looked at what he was working on. He'd lugged two rolls of roofing paper onto the roof, and was obviously on his way down for more.

  "Yeah, I'm in a great mood," he said cheerily, "the work is going well and I just might get this done—as long as nothing comes up." He said the last as he walked in front of her towards the next roll. With ease, he bent down, wrapped his hands around the large black roll of felt, and lifted it onto his shoulder.

  Cynthia backed up a couple of steps. "Wouldn't dream of interrupting you." She laughed and watched him for a few minutes. She loved watching the play of muscles in his thighs when he climbed the ladder. His tight ass swayed seductively from side to side, and she glanced up at his face to reassure herself that he wasn't doing it on purpose.

  She moved over to her lawn chair and made herself comfortable. She thought about getting a cup of coffee, but decided that she couldn't get too comfortable, or she'd stay too long. She really did have to get some work done.

  The felt roll didn't take long, an hour tops for him to roll it out and staple it. Caleb made sure it overlapped by at least a third of its width and smoothed it out before slapping the staple gun rapid-fire along one edge.

  She left him then and went inside. The remainder of the afternoon, she worked with her laptop at the dining room table. Every so often, she glanced out the window and either saw him carrying shingles towards the ladder or simply heard the slapping of the nail gun. Hours passed: she drank coffee, called several of her employees to check on their progress, spoke to a few of her clients to arrange meetings or confirm dates, and watched Caleb work and sweat. Her excitement got the better of her a time or two when she happened to glance outside and saw him stretching his back, almost posing for her. Her hand crept between her thighs; her fingers sought and found entrance into her panties. She rubbed the tight knot of her clit and squirmed deliciously, until moments later, she exploded in a gasping instant of pleasure.

  Sighing, she pulled her hands free. She was both tired and energized; an odd feeling, but one she loved. Looking at the laptop screen, she shuddered. Work, numbers, it was hard to concentrate with the continual slapping of the nail gun. She rubbed her temples, inhaled the musk scent that clung to her fingers. A quick glance outside ensured her that she was alone. But as soon as that thought crossed her mind, she wished he'd been watching.

  She looked at the clock over the oven and saw that it was nearly quitting time. Close enough for her anyway. She saved her work, closed the laptop, and cleared the pile of folders off the table. Once everything was put away, she wandered through the new room and out onto the back lawn.

  Caleb was nearly done. Damn. He had one foot on each side of the roofs peak and was laying the angled toppers, one after another. The smack of the short roofing nails biting in seemed louder in the open air. Three per topper, and his rhythm never slowed—lay it down, adjust, and then slap, slap, slap—repeat.

  Cynthia stood under the trees and watched him slowly shuffle along. Long legs stretched taut as he bent and moved slowly along the roof. Her heart thumped.He'd get it done, she was sure.

  It wasn't long before he straightened up and stretched his back. The last topper was on, adjusted, and nailed. He'd kept to his schedule and a satisfied smile lit up his tanned, sweaty face.

  "Hey," she called and waved when he didn't at first spot her in the shade."Are you about ready for a beer?"

  His smile widened and he yelled down, "You betcha. I'll be right down; I just want to toss this stuff off the roof." He slipped the nail gun into a holster on his belt and reached down for one of the cardboard boxes that had held the shingles. She walked into the house, just as the first empty box landed onthe grass.

  In the kitchen, after rinsing her hands, she took two ice-cold beers out of the fridge and then retraced her steps outside. She was a little disappointed that he'd finished. No, she was a lot disappointed. Saturday wouldn't be nearly as much fun as she'd hoped. In fact, she'd been anticipating it all week. She wondered if he felt the same.

  When she walked outside, he was gathering a large bundle of cardboard and plastic ties. Arms filled, he said, "Go get settled in the shade, I'll just run this out to the truck."

  "Okay," she said, and watched him go around the side of the house. Sighing, she went to sit on her chair in the shade. The chair was cool against the back of her thighs and shoulders, and felt wonderful after being cooped up inside for hours. It was fantastic to just sit and stretch, and feel the warmth of the afternoon. Dappled sunlight flashed across her legs like butterflies in the breeze. She put one bottle on the table, and took a sip from the other. The crisp bite at the back of her throat when she swallowed was another welcomed sensation.

  She lowered the bottle in time to see him walk around the side of the house towards her. His step was light and his face shone from the smile plastered across it.

  "You did it. You're back on schedule," she said, fighting to keep the disappointment out of her voice. Reaching down, she picked up his beer and held it out to him.

  When he was close enough, he took it. "Yep, I didn't think I'd be able to. Everything just went right this week." He put the bottle to his lips and raised it high.

  She watched his throat move as he swallowed. Sweat glistened on his neck and chest; a droplet caught her attention as it trickled from the hollow in his throat down between the wide bulging pecs she suddenly wanted to lick. Wild thoughts raced through her mind. Dragging her eyes off him, she took another swallow of beer. "I guess I'll have tomorrow off," Caleb said. She glanced up at him, and saw something. Was that di
sappointment? "Yes, you'll have the day to yourself, well after your meeting." She nodded towards the chair across from her, and he eased himself into it with a groan.

  He sat gazing up at the roof. "Man, that was a tough one. I really didn't think I'd get that roof on in time." He took another swallow of beer. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he added, "Just having the single ridge like that, made it easier."

  "Hey, would you like to go out tonight?" She heard herself ask suddenly. "You mean a date?" "Yeah, I guess I do. My treat—call it a bonus for keeping to your

  schedule this week." He cocked his head and looked at her, a sly grin on his face. "I think I'd like that. You have to let me run home first though. I really need a shower and a change of clothes."

  Laughing, she nodded. "I noticed, you're covered in sweat and it's a good thing there's a breeze." He chuckled. "You sure have a way with words, ma'am." "Call me Cynthia, for crying out loud. I've just asked you out on a

  date, and we're not in my special room." Mention of the room made his expression soften. He lowered his eyes, and in a very soft voice, said,"I kind of wish we were."

  Cynthia let the remark go. She wanted to give him some time to think about the room, what his actions meant, and what could have been. She raised her bottle and took a long drink of the cold beer.

  "I think I'll run. I really need that shower." He got to his feet, quickly emptied his beer, and put the bottle on the table between them. "Thanks. That really hit the spot. I'll be back in about an hour, is that okay?" "Sure is, dress in something nice, we'll do The Chalet." "All right, something nice." He looked surprised. The Chalet was one of the nicer eateries in town. "I'll do my best," he said and tried on a smile again."See you in a little while." "I'll be ready." He turned and headed off. She watched his long, lean body as he moved gracefully away from her and felt another pang of disappointment. She sat in silence, listening to the distant rumble of his truck, while she finished her beer. When she was done, she went into the house. "What to wear, what to wear," she muttered as she walked into her bedroom. * * * * "You look spectacular," she said when she opened the door. He'd cleaned up beautifully, and stood before her in a charcoal sports jacket over dark slacks and a royal blue shirt he'd left unbuttoned at the neck. His wavy blond hair was still slightly damp. A lock dangled over one eye. Clean shaven, and smelling of some rich musky cologne, he was a smiling vision of her perfect date. In one hand, he held a long stemmed red carnation.

  "Thanks, I hoped you'd approve." His voice was husky, his face slightly flushed.

  "Just let me just grab my shawl and we'll be off. I made a reservation for seven. That should give us plenty of time to get there." Cynthia got her purse and a lacy black shawl from the table just inside the door. She noticed her hands were trembling, and she shivered when she slipped the shawl around her naked shoulders. The little black slip dress she'd decided on had been hiding at the back of her closet, but seemed perfect for the evening. The feel of silk brushing across her skin was a pleasure she'd almost forgotten.

  "You look gorgeous," Caleb blurted when she stepped out of the door.He offered his arm, and waited while she locked her door.

  "Thank you," she said, and slid her hand under his elbow. Her perfume mingled with his cologne and a cloud of fragrance surrounded them as they made their way to a sleek, gold, '69 Dodge Charger. "I was expecting your truck."

  "The truck belongs to the company. The car's mine," he explained. He took her around to the passenger side and opened the door for her. Even when she got herself seated comfortably, he didn't release her hand. For a moment, he just looked at her. "Uh, I'll need that hand eventually," she said, chuckling. "Sorry." He released her, but only after he'd curled her fingers around the carnation he'd brought. He bent forward, kissed her fingertips, and added, "You're just so beautiful. I can't stop looking at you."

  "How sweet, thank you," she purred, and held the flower up to her nose. It had been so long since a man had paid attention to her. She smoothed her skirt, making sure he got a glimpse of cleavage. "Better get in or we won't even get there." She winked at him, giving him a saucy smile.

  Straightening up, he closed the door and hurried around to the driver's side. Once settled behind the wheel, he glanced at her as he started the engine. "You have me feeling like a teenager again— awkward and unsure of myself, which just isn't me."

  "Nice to know I can still get to a man," she chuckled. Crossing her long, stocking-covered legs, she admired the strappy sandal she'd worn— another find from the back of her closet.

  A few moments later, they were on the highway heading towards city center. Soft music from the CD player added to the seductive mood. By the time they arrived at The Chalet, Cynthia was feeling the effects. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and her skin itched in that special way that told her she was alive. Her face felt warm and she wondered if she was flushed. She hoped so. Even her pussy felt as if it wanted to party.

  Caleb pulled into a parking spot at the side of The Chalet. He revved the engine, and then shut it off. The next thing she knew, he was at her door, swinging it open. His hand extended towards her, and when she took it, he helped her out.

  The Chalet parking lot was nearly full, and as they made their way towards the door, he guided her with a hand on her elbow. He opened the large oak door for her, ever the gallant, and smiled as she brushed passed him into the dark interior of the foyer. Wallpapered in rich sculptured green and gold tones, with dark wood accents, the entrance was a warm, welcoming space. A slender, balding man in his early fifties, dressed in eveningwear approached them with a smile. "Welcome to The Chalet. Do you have a reservation?" "Yes, under the name Lyon, for seven o'clock," replied Cynthia. He went to a small desk beside the door and opened a large leatherbound book. Running his fingers down the columns, he finally said, "Ah yes, here you are, two for dinner at seven. You requested a window table if possible, is that right?"

  "Yes, that's right. Whoever I spoke to, assured me that there wouldn't be a problem."

  "Quite right, but you're a little early so I'm afraid your table won't be ready for a few minutes." He smiled, looking from her to Caleb, and extending his hand towards an opening to the left. "Would you care to wait in the lounge?Perhaps a drink before dinner?"

  "That sounds perfect, thank you." Caleb said, and again, took her by the arm.

  She allowed herself to be guided, enjoying the firm grip he had on her arm. She reveled in his sense of confidence. They took a step down into the lounge. Soft velvet covered easy chairs surrounded round, glass tables in the small, intimate room. The muted lighting gave the room a sensual feel, as if only lovers would dare enter. Her shoes sank into the chocolate-colored carpet, and she would have loved to take them off and wriggle her toes into the deep pile. Caleb ushered her to a table in the farthest corner, and held her chair out for her.

  A middle-aged, uniformed waiter approached as soon as they were both seated, and bowed, saying,"What can I get for you this evening?" "Gin and ginger for me," she said. "Would you have beer from the local breweries?" Caleb inquired

  and put his elbows on the table. "Yes, two, the first is a dark ale, very full bodied, the other is a

  honey ale both are—" "The honey ale please," he replied before the waiter could elaborate. "Very good sir." The waiter turned and left, but was back before they could begin any kind of conversation. Deftly, he placed a highball glass in front of Cynthia, and then poured a bottled beer into a frosty mug and set it down in front of Caleb. "Will that be all?"

  "Yes, thank you," she said. "We'll be going in to dinner as soon as our table is ready."

  "Very good, ma'am. I'll run a tab for you and transfer it to your waiter when you're called." He disappeared then, leaving them in their quiet corner. "This light makes you look even more amazing," Caleb said. "Thank you.You're quite the flatterer." "It's easy to flatter someone like you. I'm still feeling like that teenager." He chuckled and took a sip of his beer. It must have been good beca
use he closed his eyes and sighed. "Are you glad you kept to your schedule," she asked softly. He glanced at her, but for a moment didn't reply. When he did, it was obvious that he'd given the question some thought. "Yes, I'm glad, in one way. It shows you that I'm capable, reliable. I hate falling behind, it shows a lack of professionalism, and that's not something I'd like to be associated with." He stopped there, but only for a moment. The next came out in a softer, more thoughtful tone. "But, in another way, I'm very disappointed.I can't stop thinking about what happened last Saturday."

  "You've already mentioned how much you enjoyed it," she said, in as equally soft a voice. Tread lightly, carefully, she told herself. "You said you'd never experienced anything like it before, right?" "Yeah, that's right." "But, is it something you'd like to experience again?" He looked deep into her eyes. His eyes shone, lashes pale from exposure to the sun, framed the hazel depths that spoke to her of passion and desire. "Yes. It's something I'd like to experience again. But only with someone I trust." He took a swallow of beer, his gaze still locked with hers.

  Cynthia admired his poise. "Trust—yes, that's huge when it comes to this kind of play." She was about to add more, only the Maitre d's approach caught her attention.

  He stopped beside the table and bowed. "Excuse me, your table is ready." "Thank you," she replied. "Would you please have our drinks brought in?" "Certainly ma'am," he said as he pulled out her chair. "If you'll

  follow me." Caleb took her arm, and together they trailed behind the slender man. He took them through an archway into the dining area. The décor and atmosphere was the same as the lounge. He guided them to an alcove where a table sat next to a large bay window overlooking a fountain.

  Caleb held her chair, and when she sat, he bent and kissed her on the shoulder. She shivered with pleasure, and reached up to touch his face for a moment. She found her hand held while he turned and briefly pressed his lips against her palm.

  "Yes, you're a devil," she murmured, just loud enough for him to hear. He released her and moved around to the other side of the table.