I closed the website. I found myself wishing that I could remember Brian and Rachel. There were just too many clients to remember them all. But while they were my clients, they had been all I thought about. Romantic algorithms turned over in my brain when I studied two people that I felt could work as a couple.
Of course, physical attraction came first. The couple had to meet each other’s standards. When you sign up for a matchmaker, you expect the matchmaker to at least come through with a prospective mate who is going to turn you on. But it has to be more than just physical attraction. Simply setting up two people who were on the same plane of physical beauty wasn’t enough to create the spark that would then turn into a long-term relationship. I wasn’t in the business of creating hookups; I filled a greater need. The need that everyone has felt before. The need for a partner.
I picked up another invitation and smiled when I recognized the names on the back of the envelope. I opened it and pulled the card out, studying it carefully. It was nice, not quite as elegant as the previous one, but still very respectable. I remembered the groom well. Upper management type. He was keen on meeting the perfect girl that would make a great wife. “Old-fashioned” is what he called himself. The bride, a trust-fund girl who was seven years his junior and had gone to college “for the experience” rather than an actual education, was a perfect match. She wanted a “real man” who she could be the perfect wife for as they built a life together. In other words, she wanted someone to pay the bills and he wanted someone to cook the meals.
Another website was written on the bottom of the card. I didn’t bother to type it into my browser. In a few years, he’ll grow tired of her bickering and constant expectations. The life of a stay-at-home wife won’t be nearly the easy ride she expected and she’ll start to resent him for depriving her of exploring her own interests, although she didn’t have any interests outside of marrying a man who was wealthy enough to provide her with a cushy life. Maybe he’ll have an affair, she’ll get fat, or maybe both will happen and they’ll go through a bitter divorce. If they’re lucky, they won’t have any kids before that happens.
The RSVP pile grew slightly. Before long, I had filled out more and more cards until the pile was taller than the stack of unopened invitations.
I reached the final invitation and opened it. A magnet telling me to save the date fell on my desk. I picked it up and studied the picture of two smiling people with a pit-bull in the middle of them. The dog was adorable. I remember the couple vividly. They were each clients of mine two months ago. Both were eager to marry the right person, settle down, buy a house, have kids, and grow old with their loved one. He dreamed of being a photographer while she aspired to start her own business. In a few years, their dreams would go unrealized if they lasted long enough to have kids.
I licked the envelope that I put the RSVP card into and wondered who would keep the dog when they got divorced.
I picked up the pile of declined wedding invitations and began to straighten them in my hands, bouncing them against the desk. My eyes wandered along the flat wood until they stopped on a photograph of my parents swinging me between them. I studied this picture often, and each time I stared at it, I became more and more convinced that it was the perfect representation of my relationship with my parents. Always in the middle of the two of them, being swung back and forth, pulled by opposite forces. They both held my hand tightly, not wanting to let go, each bound to the other through me.
I knew that there were other pictures in the middle drawer of my desk. I could put up the recent photograph that my father had sent me of him and his third wife. They’d looked just as happy as the picture of him and his second wife. There was also a picture of my mother with her fourth husband in my drawer, sitting in the woods with two small dogs that were remnants of her second marriage to a stockbroker who had a penchant for small dogs and slutty secretaries. My mother’s words, not mine.
My parents spent my entire childhood looking for love that they’d never find. I figured out from an early age that marriage and love were mutually exclusive. Three marriages for my father and four marriages for my mother, and that didn’t even factor in girlfriends and boyfriends who didn’t last long enough to become ex-wives and ex-husbands.
Now I was spending my adult life finding love for people. The irony. Yet I couldn’t complain. I was grateful for a successful business, and was careful to never be bitter towards my profession, regardless of my childhood. Sure, I was selling people something that I didn’t even believe to be real, but it wasn’t important what I believed—only what the client believed.
I opened the drawer and pulled out the photographs that I kept there. I sorted through them slowly, studying the faces of my parents’ former spouses. It always amazed me that my parents didn’t burst out laughing every time the priest said the words “until death do us part”.
I looked around the office. It was getting late and I was long past done for the day. The clock confirmed it for me immediately. I got up from my desk, tossed the photos back in the drawer, and picked up the pile of rejected wedding invitations.
I closed my office door, studying my office one more time before I killed the lights. The office was decorated with a minimalist mentality. The art on the walls was plain, but interesting when you studied it. Satisfied, I turned off the lights.
I felt tense and my back was sore. I’d been sitting for too long. I tossed the rejected invitations on April’s desk as I walked out. Outside, the night was refreshing, but the feeling of sitting at my desk and going over every wedding which I was sure was going to end in disaster was still on my mind. I got in my car and couldn’t shake the feeling. Rather than let it fester, I decided to take action. I’d go to the gym and get out all the frustration and stress of the day. Knowing that I had made up my mind on where the rest of my night was going to take me, I already felt a little better.
I turned up the music in my car to a near-deafening roar and sang along at the top of my lungs. It felt good. When I pulled into the gym parking lot, I was ready to break a serious sweat. It was getting late and I hoped that the gym would not be completely desolate. I normally didn’t mind an empty gym, but tonight I wanted some company while I worked out.
Inside the gym, I walked with my bag slung over my shoulder as I scanned my surroundings. A man covered in muscles that were exploding with veins lay on a bench, pushing up huge dumbbells as he grunted loudly. A young girl, maybe sixteen or seventeen, was next to him with tiny weights that could have doubled as paper-weights, doing curls. A few middle-aged men trying to combat the growing mass that had become their stomachs were doing various exercises on the machines.
I continued on towards the women’s locker room and looked over to the treadmills and elliptical machines. They were sparsely populated with people watching television or bobbing their heads to their iPods. In an adjacent room, a bunch of women and a couple of men were in a spin class. It was a typical night at the gym, nothing interesting.
Then I saw someone who was very interesting.
He leaned against the squat-rack, breathing heavily. He wore a cut-off t-shirt that was an old and battered band shirt, probably from his younger days of bouncing around local music shows and dive bars. He lifted a bottle of water to his lips and drank greedily as a bead of sweat fell down the side of his face. Then he turned and noticed me. We met eyes briefly before I turned away and walked into the locker room, making sure to accentuate my hips as I turned my back to him.
Inside the locker room, I thought of the unnamed man who had briefly caught my attention. I slowly peeled away my clothes, imagining his hands undressing me. I looked in the mirror as the last piece of my underwear fell off and I was naked. I could picture him drinking in the sight of my naked skin and the tension in the air would become unbearable for both of us.
I was alone in the locker room, but I knew it wouldn’t last, so I put on my sports bra and slipped into my workout clothes. They were tight, form-fitting clot
hes that accentuated my figure by not getting in the way of my curves. I turned around and examined myself in my cute outfit and felt satisfied. I had curves, and darn it, I felt proud of those curves. A real man didn’t want some stick figure. I nodded my head to myself and walked out into the gym, water bottle in hand and towel thrown over my shoulder.
I walked over to the area next to the cardio machines and began to stretch. Looking in the mirror, I spotted the guy from earlier; he was good-looking, really good-looking. I reached up to stretch my arms and let them fall before me and grabbed my ankles. I knew that the mirror behind me would show my ass to anybody who had the good sense to try to steal a look. I could almost feel his eyes doing just that.
I shook my body out, jumping up and down to let the blood flow to my muscles. I wondered if he liked the way my breasts bounced with every small jumping-jack that I did. Smiling, I walked over to an empty treadmill and began to run.
I put on my headphones and turned up the volume to drown out the sounds of my feet smashing against the treadmill. My breathing became faster with every passing minute, and I felt a thin layer of sweat forming on my skin. My muscles burned as I pushed myself harder and harder. I drank tiny sips of water and closed my eyes, the stress of the day leaving my body. But I knew that there was something else that could help relieve the stress even better.
I opened my eyes to look for him. He was sitting against the wall, leaned over and doing curls. I watched his arms ripple with muscle as he pulled the weights up to his chest. He was muscular, but by no means an obsessive bodybuilder type. No, he was much more lean and athletic. I bet he was strong, not only explosive strength but the type of strength that lasts. He’d have the stamina for tonight.
I let my eyes linger on him just long enough so he could catch me staring. I turned my eyes down and smiled coyly, making it clear I was flirting. When I looked up again, he was returning the smile. It wouldn’t take much to get this guy to take me home with him. There was no way we were going to go back to my place; I never brought guys home with me. My sanctuary was off-limits to strangers.
He got up and returned the weights to the rack. He shook his arms out and stretched. I could imagine him walking over to me, wiping the sweat from his brow. He’d lean against my treadmill and stare directly into my eyes.
“Hey,” he would say.
“Hi,” I’d reply.
“I want to show you something, it’s a great workout. I’ll be your spotter.”
I’d kill the treadmill. He’d slide his hand around my lower back and guide me over to a bench, close to a mirror. Then he’d pull off his shirt revealing glistening stone abs, just begging to be touched. I’d restrain myself, but then I’d notice that he’d grown hard in his gym shorts.
The whole gym would be watching us, eagerly awaiting.
“You can’t do this exercise with clothes on,” he’d say.
I’d pull off my shirt quickly and then his hands would break their restraints and tear off my sports bra, ripping it from me with such force that I’d let out a little yelp of surprise. He’d drop to his knees and pull off my tight workout pants and then he’d lift me up. I’d feel his muscles flexing against my naked skin and my eyes would close involuntarily.
He’d spin me around and we’d be facing the mirror. He’d be holding me with one arm while his other arm tore off his gym shorts and we’d be naked in front of the whole gym. We’d be as enticing as Greek statues, perfectly sculpted and carved in the image of perfection. I’d look through the mirror and catch the eyes of those in the gym that watched us. I’d meet every one of their gazes briefly and know that we were all that existed in this moment.
I ran faster, turning up the speed on my treadmill. The guy walked over to the water fountain and drank, leaning over as he did. I saw the muscles in his arms, taut and free of body fat.
The whole gym would watch as he lifted me higher and then he would sit down, lowering me on top of him. Our bodies would meet in an explosion of pleasure. His hands would flow over me like water and I’d move up and down on him in waves. We’d moan loudly. The gym would be silent as people held their breaths. When we both climaxed simultaneously, all the spectators would gasp for air as we provided them their release.
I set the treadmill to the cool-down mode. My run turned into a light jog and I checked my heart rate. It was a little higher than normal, but it wasn’t just from the running. He had taken the treadmill next to mine to cool himself down after his workout. I watched him fascination. This guy had pushed himself to the limits. I just hoped that he’d saved at least a little energy. He’ll need it. I smiled and looked over to him. He smiled back, a big, wide smile of perfectly white teeth.
Our treadmills finished the cool-down program at the same time. I toweled myself off, making sure to go slowly around my cleavage. While I drank from my water bottle, I let a little spill down my chin. From the look in his eyes, I knew I had him hooked.
We hopped off the treadmills, and I turned to him.
“I couldn’t help noticing you earlier,” I said. “You were really working out hard.”
“Yeah, I suppose I was. Name’s Dominic.”
“Julie,” I said, holding out my hand. He took my hand and gently shook it. When I pulled my hand away, I let two fingers caress his hand before I broke away completely.
“It’s nice to meet you, Julie. Would you be interested in grabbing a drink with me?”
His face was perfectly proportioned. When he spoke, he let little smiles steal into his composure, softening everything he said into an aura of friendliness. I studied him as he spoke and determined that he probably was a genuinely nice guy. He was perfect for tonight.
“No,” I said. Dominic’s face took on a perplexed expression. I could see the gears working in his brain trying to figure out what went wrong. “I’m not interested in a date, Dominic.”
I ran my hand over his shoulder and met his eyes. I told him everything he needed to know with my stare.
“Do you want to come back to my place?” he asked, a sly smile spreading across his face.
“Yes. Let me go wash up. I suggest you do the same.” I bit my lower lip and walked away. I patted away dust from my ass that probably wasn’t there, giving him a little show as I walked into the locker room.
I showered quickly. I felt excited. I was a little eager, sure, but didn’t rush. I toweled myself off and got dressed. I finished the last of my water bottle and when I walked out of the locker room, Dominic was waiting by the door, drinking a protein shake.
I followed his Audi in my car. When we arrived at his place, he walked over to my car and opened my door for me. Quite the gentleman I see. I thanked him and we walked into his apartment building together. Once inside, I looked around and noticed that it was clean and well-organized.
“Would you like a drink?” he asked.
“No, thank you.”
“So, Julie, what do you do for a living?”
I walked around his apartment. It was a two bedroom, conservatively furnished and decorated. He had a small office where he had a nice desk and a closed. There were photos on the desk of him and his family. I looked around and the bedroom was all grey and black furniture, a true bachelor pad.
I took off my suit jacket and tossed it onto his couch. My nipples were hard, showing through my thin white blouse since I wasn’t wearing a bra. I unbuttoned the top button on my blouse.
“It’s really not important,” I said flirtatiously.
The blouse fell to the ground. I unzipped my skirt and dropped it to the ground, stepping out of it when it fell. I seemed to have forgotten to put on any underwear at all.
His eyebrows rose when he saw my naked body. I walked up to him and my hand slid up his inner thigh, stopping just before it reached his groin. I stood on my tip-toes and sucked on the bottom of his ear, all the while rubbing his inner thigh. His hand slid around my lower back and then both hands pulled me into him as he leaned down and kissed me.
&
nbsp; I reached behind him to feel his ass. It was firm and muscular, cut from years of squats and running. I squeezed hard and relished the feel of his body in my hands. Then I pushed him back gently.
“Why are you still dressed?” I asked.
He practically tore off his clothes. I turned around and walked away from him, moving my hips with exaggerated movements as I did so. I could hear him tripping over himself as he began to follow and I smiled to myself. His eagerness was cute.
I turned on the lights in his bedroom; I wanted to be able to see everything. Dominic came in the room, totally stripped of his clothes. I eyed his body. He had lived up to my expectations. I ran my hand down his abs, tracing the lines of his muscles with my fingers softly. I looked him in the eyes as my hand fell between his legs and I gripped him in my hand. I squeezed and pulled gently, feeling how he was as hard as stone.
He rubbed my breasts with his hands, teasing around the nipples. He leaned down and began to kiss my neck, sucking on the skin softly. His fingers danced around my nipples, defying my every want for him to grab them and squeeze. His tongue followed the line of my collarbone until it slid down between my breasts. I let go of him and he fell to his knees before me. He licked the tip of my nipple, so delicately that it was as though a breeze had swept over them.
I moaned loudly and pulled his head against me, making him suck on my nipples harder. His left hand worked my other nipple, squeezing and pulling as his other hand slid around and gripped my supple ass. I could feel his hot breath against my tender skin and I began to move my hips back and forth, pushing against his hand until it slid between my legs and he began to rub my pussy. I was so wet that soon his fingers slid into me with ease.
He lifted me up, his fingers still inside me and his mouth moving between each nipple. He put me down on the bed and crawled on top of me. I put my hand against his chest and stopped him before he pushed his cock into me. He leaned down and kissed me. Then he reached into his nightstand and pulled out a condom. I opened it and slid it down on him. His cock was perfect, not too small or large. He was exactly what I needed right now.
Billionaire Erotic Romance Boxed Set: 7 Steamy Full-Length Novels Page 24