Personal Assistant

by Cara North

  He started laughing. “Oh, for crying out loud, Frankie.”

  “Okay the last part was from a book I read that solidified my inability to deal with scary books and movies. Misery. But don’t think I didn’t think about the rest. I wasn’t a very exciting person. I mean I was average. A bit obsessive compulsive about scheduling and stuff. I’m sure you noticed as much by now. I excelled in my classroom because I was passionate about the subject. I love reading scripts for you, because I am passionate about movies. I love…” she lowered her voice and leaned in closer so she could whisper, “I love masturbating to the memories of what we’ve done because I am passionate about everything where you are concerned. You must know, my loyalty is limitless, and my heart belongs to you.”

  He was thrilled. He practically buzzed electric. “I am…ah…I am so happy right now. I can hardly put my feelings into words.”

  “Let’s leave and you can put them into action instead.” She smiled too hard. He shook his head no.

  “The movie’s about to start, do you want popcorn?” he asked as he put money on the table, more than enough to cover the tab and leave a handsome tip.

  She stood with a sigh of defeat, shook her head no.

  “Me either.” Jonas kissed her on the forehead. They walked into the theatre and enjoyed the privacy of the deluxe seating. The movie had released a few days before so they didn’t have a packed house. In fact, the showing in the next theatre was where all the action was. Animation was taking over, one cute critter at a time.

  “These are nice seats,” Frankie admitted as she slid in next to him. He lifted his arm and she pushed right up against him. He lowered his arm around her and placed his hand on her hip.

  The previews started. Jonas could feel her body tense next to him. He squeezed to reassure her he was right there. Frankie slid her hand across his abdomen and settled against him. The movie opened with action, the first character got his head chopped off. Frankie gripped his t-shirt so hard he thought she might rip it off of him before the movie was over. Her head buried in his chest. He thought he would be able to assure her there was nothing to be afraid of. She started to relax, he knew what was coming next, there had been enough minutes passed without a thrill. “They are about to throw a jumper in there, so you might want to close your eyes.”

  She squealed as she turned her face into his chest and pulled at his shirt again. He was certain she was not acting. She was trembling and he immediately felt like an ass. He had hoped she enjoyed scary movies. “Frankie, come on, let’s go.”

  “I’m fine,” she said against his chest.

  “No.” He scrubbed his hand up and down her back. “You’re cold, you’re scared, and I’m afraid you are actually going to bite me.”

  “I’m sorry.” Her shoulder dropped in defeat.

  “No, my love, I’m sorry. I should have asked.” Jonas moved to stand and she stood with him. He held her fingers tight in his hand and led them out to the car.

  She was melancholy. He could feel her chilled hand in his. He opened the door for her and she slid in. As he drove back to her apartment he asked, “Frankie, were there any horror scripts in the pile?”

  “I put them all in maybe.” she admitted freely. “Didn’t you look through the maybe pile?”

  He took a deep breath. “Nope. I just looked at the ones you wrote yes on.”

  “Oh,” she said quietly.

  “I’ll check the pile later, maybe the fourth movie is in it.” He slid his hand across and onto her knee.

  Her slender hand smoothed over his. Soft, gentle, she traced his fingers with hers. His heart was full to bursting.

  “You’re taking me home?” she asked, her eyes a bit wide.

  “Not to stay.” Jonas winked. “I want to see where you live. I didn’t know if you needed to grab anything to bring with you. Or maybe I could stay here with you. Whatever you want, Frankie. Whatever you need.”

  ***

  Frankie could feel the rush of blood throughout her body bringing her senses alert to his every move. She was nervous about him seeing her apartment. She wasn’t a slob, in fact, she was a bit obsessive about keeping it neat and tidy in case anyone ever did actually break in and murder her, the police and ambulance wouldn’t stand around talking about what pig sty the place was.

  She welcomed the air when she got out of his car. It helped to get the warm spicy scent of him out of her mind long enough to walk to the door.

  “Okay, before we go in you have to remember that I rent this place, okay. It’s not my dream home or anything.” She fumbled with the keys, unlocked the door and stepped inside. It was a studio apartment, basically one large room with a small bathroom and a slightly larger off shoot for a kitchen area.

  “Do you think I’m a snob?” he asked. He walked inside and looked around. “Its…smaller than I thought it would be. Very clean, which I expected, but not very feminine. What’s up with that?”

  Frankie locked the door behind them. She turned to find him seating himself on her bed, not the love seat she used for a couch. “I don’t know. I mean I moved here at first because it is close to the school, in a good neighborhood, I could afford it, but I didn’t plan to stay.”

  “So, why did you?”

  “I stayed because it was a fair price for rent, I was already unpacked, and I didn’t need anything more than this.” She shrugged.

  He took off his shoes and placed them by the bed.

  “I noticed that about you,” he said. He motioned for her to come to him.

  “Noticed what?”

  “You’re frugal.”

  “Are you calling me cheap?” Frankie gawked.

  “Do I need to tell you the definition of frugal?” He teased.

  “Okay, so I don’t like to waste money.” Frankie shrugged. “Except on some things, but I don’t think of them as a waste.”

  “Me either.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Hmmm.” He looked around, looked at her nightstand and reached for the drawer. “Hide anything good in here?”

  “No, there’s nothing in there but a book, some paper, a few pens and pencils, and…

  “A vibrator,” he noted.

  Frankie was mortified. She had forgotten all about it. “I…no…that was…”

  “My competition,” he nodded. Then he pushed back on the bed, fluffing up the pillows and stacking them behind his head. “And here I thought I had to worry about the phone.”

  “Are you comfortable?” Frankie asked as she tried to hold back a laugh of embarrassment.

  “Just about.” He sighed. Wiggled a little bit. “There, now I am comfortable.”

  “You make it sound like you have expectations I am unaware of.” Frankie folded her arms as she made it to the side of the bed. She stood there, eager, anxious, ready.

  “Before you turned me off and that battery operated boyfriend on, you owed me something. I thought I might try to collect.” He bit his lower lip. Looked her up and down. “You know what I am talking about.”

  “I don’t know anything.” Frankie knew exactly what he meant. He wanted her to masturbate in front of him. Show him what he had shown her.

  “Well,” he said. “You could barter for a different activity.”

  “Barter?”

  “Yes.” He nodded. “You toss this in the trash. I don’t like thinking you want Duracell more than me right now, if you want one later, like months later, we can arrange for it. The second thing I want is my other nemesis, the phone. You don’t have to give it to me, but you must silence it and put it where you cannot see, hear, or feel it.”

  “Give up all that?” Frankie asked. “Huh, what do I get in return?”

  “Why, all of this.” He opened his arms and presented himself to her.

  “All of this?” She tugged at one of his socks and pulled it off, dropping it to the floor at the foot of her bed.

  “I think you’re getting a deal.” He winked at her.

  “I don’t know, those batteries can last
a long time,” Frankie teased.

  He leaned over and put the vibrator back in the drawer. “In case I need back-up then.”

  She pulled his other sock off. “I think you can handle it.”

  “I’m out of practice.” He batted those big blue eyes and she melted.

  Frankie made quick business of taking her clothes off. She was down to a bra and panties before he got the shirt over his head. He started at the button on his jeans and she was already tugging from the bottom to get them off of him.

  “Hungry?” He laughed.

  “Ravenous.”

  She stripped the jeans off and met him half way to pull the boxers off as well. Starting with his ankle she nipped, licked, kissed, nuzzled and sucked on almost every inch between ankle and hip, avoiding his crotch entirely.

  “Ohh, that’s cruel.” He quipped.

  Frankie enjoyed the feel of the soft skin at the head of his hard cock as it slid between her breasts, over her bra and down to her navel as she kissed, licked, nipped, and sucked her way to his neck, then his chin, then…

  The moment her lips touched his he pulled his hands up to cup her face, he held her there, not letting it be a slight brush. His lips parted, his tongue tested, found her mouth opening and slid in. He kissed with the passion of a thousand men. Skillful, insistent, taking, until she was breathless, dizzy. His hands loosened. He allowed her a breath, and then pulled her back to start again. His fingers slid along her cheek, down her neck, confident she wasn’t going to pull away from him again, he slid his hands around to unfasten her bra. He removed it quickly, eager to get her as naked as he was. When taking the panties off meant having to let her move away, he ripped them instead. The sound of the fabric, the urgency of his hands, the feel of his cock as it pressed against her smooth, wet, pussy and the opening there had her breathless.

  “Frankie.” He breathed her name as he pushed just enough to let her know he was ready. “I love you.”

  He grabbed her lips with his, his tongue plundered her mouth as his cock plundered her pussy. She was overwhelmed. The grip he had on her hips moved her farther, deeper. She tried to cry out, but he swallowed them up with kisses. The intensity of the situation, the angle causing her clit to rub against the base of his shaft from the depth, the assault on her lips and tongue, the words that hung heavily in the air without reply had all combined to create the perfect little death. The muscles of her body tensed, her breath came in gasps, her coordination with his kiss, lost. She was lost, coming undone at the very seam of her being. The orgasm ripped through her and she cried out, pulling away from his lips, pushing as hard as she could against his cock.

  The pulse rocketed through her body, up her spine and ended in errant tingles at the tips of her ears, nose, and tongue. If her eyelashes could have joined in the revelries, they would have. It was so intense and the sensations had spread everywhere. The moment her eyes opened, she saw a very peaceful expression on the man below her. “Did you?”

  “No.” He lifted his hips as if to prove the point. She gasped at the added surge of tingles due to the motion. “That spider on the ceiling was completely distracting me.”

  He said it deadpan. Frankie’s eyes opened wide. “What?”

  She squealed.

  “Gotcha,” he said and pulled her close then rolled them over. She was facing the ceiling now and he was in control. They were giggling a moment during the transition.

  “Mmm,” he said as he kissed her again, shifted his hips, stroked her from the inside. “I missed you.”

  She could barely speak. He was pushing slowly, torturously so, enjoying her every moan and gasp at his movements, “Did you?”

  He nodded. “Did you miss me?”

  “Yes.” She gripped his back as he pulled her leg up higher, angling in to get to the spot. “Oh, yes.”

  “Yes you missed me, or…”

  She let out a strangled laugh, the motion must have ricocheted through her because he was suddenly there, shifted a millimeter and rubbing her to bliss. “Yes,” she gasped, “Both. I missed you,” gasp, “right there,” gasp, “harder,” her body wound up quickly.

  “Like that?” He asked and obliged her demands.

  “God, yes!”

  The ripples washed over her, arching her back, trembling her legs, erasing her fear with the rush of endorphins. Jonas powered on.

  “Jonas,” she gasped. “I…I love…I love…I love you.”

  “That’s what I needed.” He let her leg drop, he slowed the push, the power, and settled into a comfortable pace where he could manage to kiss her, hold her, and press at the small of her back to arch against his thrusts. He was no longer fucking her. He was taking his time, savoring the moment, embedding it in both of their memories. Her hands slid everywhere, her mouth tasted anything that came near, his lips, his neck, his earlobe. She could feel the muscles in his back ripple. The grip of his hands tighten. “Say it again, Frankie.”

  The words slipped from her mouth as easily as the orgasm slipped across his body.

  She slid her fingers along his spine, enjoyed his weight crushing in on her. He was growing comfortable, lax, maybe sleepy.

  Her turn she said, “You really should move before that spider drops to your back.”

  “What?” He jerked up and rolled over.

  “I’m just teasing. There is no spider, remember?”

  “You are so going to get it now.” He said in that playful tone uniquely his. Nothing in the world looked better than the man’s smile. He was blissfully happy. She was too. He pulled her until she was flipped over on her stomach. “Where is that marker?”

  He held her down with one hand and fumbled in the drawer next to her bed with the other. “Ah-ha.”

  She could hear him mumble as he took off the cap.

  “Jonas.” She squealed, tried to resist, but he was too much man to move before he started beefing up, now he was a beast.

  “Mine,” he said around the marker cap in his mouth. The next thing she knew was the feeling of a felt tip marker scrawling out the letters of his name along the blade of her shoulder. “There.”

  He put the cap back on the marker and then blew on the ink as if it needed extra air to dry.

  “I can’t believe you just autographed my back.” Frankie shook her head. She didn’t mind really. She had been wondering since he signed that doll if he was going to do the same to her.

  He moved to position himself next to her on the bed. Her feet were hanging over, now they were in the bed sideways rather than long ways.

  Jonas pushed the hair away from her face and said, “That’s not an autograph, it’s a label. I realized writing “mine” didn’t tell the world who you belonged to.”

  “Ah,” she said. “Well where do I get to claim you?”

  “Here.” He handed her the marker. “Anywhere you want.”

  “Anywhere?”

  “Anywhere, but there.” He covered his penis. “Not that it doesn’t belong to you. I’m just afraid of how it might react to the ink.”

  “How about here?” Frankie traced her name with the marker cap still on over his heart.

  “That’s always belonged to you.” He frowned. “You have first place and I have third.”

  “Third?”

  “Yeah, you said before you had loved two men.”

  “Jonas, the first was teenage love, it doesn’t count. The second, was you, except it’s grown up, complex, crazy love so that actually makes you number one, too.” Frankie kissed where she had written her name without ink. Slid lower on his body, enjoyed the damp flesh, the crisp hair of his chest, the way his abs jerked under her fingers.

  She pulled the cap off and wrote her name on his body along the contoured line of his hip to his groin. That line distinguishing a ridiculously fit body from an average one. The line that promised, ‘if these jeans drop any lower you will see everything’ in some of his pictures.

  “Naughty, Frankie.” He tisked. He looked at her handy work and s
miled. “I was prepared to defend your name on my chest, just so you know.”

  He moved so they could readjust their bodies’ long ways in the bed. He pulled her close to him. She kissed him on the lips again. Her head moved to rest on his chest. Her fingers gently tangled in his chest hair. His fingers stroked her back, his thumb sliding along his name on her shoulder blade.

  “I should just get that tattooed, right?” She was only half kidding.

  “Hmmm,” he said.

  “I don’t mean tonight.” She laughed. “I know commitment needs to move in slow steps.”

  “Frankie, you can write my name on your forehead and I would still love you. I’m just thinking that I don’t know if I would want someone sticking a needle that close to my…”

  She cut him off with a kiss. “Gotcha.”

  “Yes you do.” He sighed and pulled her face closer to his. “Yes you do.”

  Chapter Ten

  He was home much earlier than he should have been.

  “Frankie,” he called as he climbed the stairs.

  She was only half way across the room when he appeared. He was out of breath, frowning, and apparently mad. He had a shopping bag in his hand. “Are you all right?”

  “No,” he said. “I’m frustrated and mad as hell. I can’t get this damn thing to work like it’s supposed to and I am not, absolutely not, going back to work tomorrow looking like an idiot.”

  “Okay.” She took a tentative step forward. “Can I help?”

  “I’m counting on it.” He reached into the bag and pulled out a stiff lump of fabric. He opened it and held it up so she could see it. “I need to know how to work these strings. Not just tie or untie, but I need to know how to manipulate them and I need to make it look good when I do it.”

  “No problem.” Frankie stepped closer, took the garment from his hand. “This is for her. It’s too small for me. Wait here.”