Under His Suit (Love Under Lockdown Book 16)

by Jamie Knight

  “Fuck yeah,” he grunted. “I love your hot, curvy body. I love when you cum for me. You’re amazing.”

  When she came, Harlan held her tightly before pulling away and ejaculating all over her face and breasts. He freed her from the knotty twists of fabric that were her clothes and she stretched out. They spooned as the city outside was a quiet twinkling specter with the occasional siren calling out in the distance.

  Tory couldn’t help but add something else to her wildest fantasies: the image of Harlan always by her side, and inside her, no matter where she might end up going in this big, beautiful world.

  ***

  Mahira jumped in the pool and lapped it once before settling near Tory. She had abandoned the white one piece for a navy blue bikini, similar to the black one she’d given Tory a week ago.

  “So where have you been keeping yourself? I knocked on your door a couple nights ago but there was no answer,” Mahira asked, grinning slyly at her.

  “I think you know enough to guess,” Tory told her.

  Mahira laughed.

  “I truly underestimated you, Victoria,” Mahira admitted.

  “I think I truly underestimated myself too. Don’t worry about it.”

  “I’m so happy for you,” Mahira said, and Tory knew that despite her understandable misgivings, she meant it.

  They hugged in the water.

  “You’ll get your fifteen minutes of fame,” Mahira chimed at her.

  “iGo is big. We are not. We’re unsung heroes of the digital age. We didn’t design the app; we just designed the design that helps people find the app,” Tory protested.

  “The industry will know of you,” Mahira insisted. “And that means something.”

  Tory couldn’t help but hope she was right. Just as she hoped that whatever was happening between Harlan and her was the beginning of something long-term, rather than just a temporary fling.

  ***

  As US cities announced plans for reopening in stages, the stock market made a slight recovery. Back in her loose-fitting dark pantsuit, Tory paced waiting for Ms. Kalinski to knock at her door.

  When she finally saw Ms. Kalinski and her familiar quirkiness, Tory was put at ease. She had started to feel like a part of the NextThing.Net family over the course of the quarantine.

  When Harlan introduced her to the CEOs of iGo, they were thrilled and impressed with both Tory and the work. When one of them commented on the genius in presenting their brand colors in a gradient, she caught Harlan looking at her proudly and it warmed her heart.

  As press from other online design magazines snapped photos of her alone, as well as with Harlan, Tory felt certain that everything she’d decided for herself was absolutely right, but she still had no idea how to tell her parents about Harlan. It almost seemed that people would be less judgmental if Harlan were not older and wealthy.

  A hard working older man only seemed to be respected more than a well to do man in this one area of life. The middle aged auto mechanic always seemed like a much more faithful mate than any man who had slept with supermodels, even if both of them had had quite wild pasts but were ready to settle down.

  Plus, Tory wasn’t sure Harlan was ready to settle down. Sure, he had said he wanted her always, but maybe that’s what he told all the girls he slept with.

  It definitely felt as if there was something special between them. But Tory felt too inexperienced to trust her feelings. She decided to wait for more definite assurances from Harlan before taking the chance of telling her family about them.

  The news of Tory’s work at the NextThing.Net studio traveled fast. Her phone was flooded with calls from past clients who had new work and new clients who wanted work fast, and her head was spinning. When in the midst of all of these calls she saw Jude Coleman’s name and face on her phone, she cringed.

  “Hello,” he said dismally. “I see you’re acquainted with Harlem Dawes. Sit on his lap yet?”

  “What?”

  “You know what I mean,” he insisted. “I saw the write-ups about you and there were lots of pictures with you and him together.”

  “Of course there are. He’s in charge of the entire business. He’s the reason I got the award and the internship. Anyway, this is really none of your business,” Tory defended herself.

  “I want to come get you, take you back home before there’s nothing left of you for me,” Jude ranted. “These are dangerous times. I feel this thing taking you away from me, Victoria, and you’re getting sucked in. I saw the pictures. You won a contest and now they are taking advantage of you. That’s what rich people do. You just need to come back home and do it with me. Life, I mean. Life. Good clean living back in ol’ Madison.”

  “Listen, Jude. I don't really know what I want right now. We’re not even together, remember? I’ve had offers just this morning from all over the country. The kind of jobs I’ve dreamt of my whole life, Jude. Don’t you want that for me?” she asked, becoming frustrated with him.

  “I just want you to come back to me. We had made plans. Together. Plans for being together!” he blurted out loudly, causing her to move the phone away from her face.

  “That was in the past. It’s over. I have to go. Harlan is waiting,” she said, knowing she’d probably gone too far in vengeance.

  And she cringed as Jude’s screaming became unintelligible. She imagined him standing on his back porch, smashing his phone on the worn wood and stomping it to pieces.

  In only his swimsuit, Harlan was running on an elliptical machine facing the big screen TV in the gym as he glanced occasionally at stock market figures scrolling across it a few yards away. The shotgun-like clacking of Ms. Kalinski’s heels thundered in the corridor. She marched in with a big tablet under her arm.

  “Good afternoon, Meyerwitz is here to see you,” she said, curtly.

  Harlan slowed and stepped off the machine smoothly.

  “You know I let Ms. Stadler work in my office. Where is he? He can come and sit down here,” he said, reaching for a towel.

  “I am here,” a small voice said, making Harlan freeze.

  Ms. Kaminski unfolded a stand from the tablet's drop proof case and stood in on a bench press nearby. On the screen, Barry Meyerwitz, one of Harlan’s attorneys, smiled at him.

  “What do you think?” he asked from the tablet.

  Harlan chuckled a moment.

  ‘OK, thank you, Jillian,” Harlan said, still amused by Meyerwitz.

  “You couldn't Zoom or Skype? Call me, maybe?” Harlan asked.

  ‘It’s important. I wanted to be here.”

  “But, but it’s no different,” Harlan scoffed.

  “Listen. Who’s the lawyer?”

  “You.”

  “I prefer confidentiality in my work. You could totally record a Skype session. No one would know. I talk to you on my own unit, and the content is mine,” the attorney explained.

  “This quarantine has turned you into a looney toon.”

  “Can we get down to business? Something has come up. I don't like it. I don’t even think I like talking about it.”

  “What?” Harlan asked, truly curious.

  “The girl.”

  “The girl?”

  “There’s a guy,” Meyerwitz told him.

  “I thought it's about a girl?”

  “A guy and your girl.”

  “Ah, okay, my girl. Who is actually a woman. And what guy?” Harlan asked.

  “Some kid from Wisconsin who joined an Incel Activist Group. He claims you’re to blame.”

  “What?” Harlan yelped. “In-cels? The involuntarily celibate?”

  “Right. He says that you lured young women with a contest, that they are trapped with you while you take advantage of them sexually and make them work for free while your key staff quarantine with their family.”

  “What? No, none of that is accurate.”

  “You’ve been seen with Ms. Stadler, Harlan.”

  “Yes. About Victoria. I never really imagined any
one could just come in and take over a job. It was a convenient situation to get some fresh opinions. So, I never made any provisions to pay anyone. But obviously I do plan to pay all of those who have been helping me, very handsomely, now that I know how valuable they are.”

  “And how would you characterize your relationship with Victoria Stadler?” his lawyer asked, looking at him from the small flat screen.

  “Characterize? What does that mean really?”

  “The press is going to have a field day with this kid’s story. Is it possible, and excuse me for not being more delicate in the matter – battery life – would it be possible for you to just leave this one alone?”

  “Handle it, Barry. Please.”

  ***

  The Ducati’s engine flying through the Midtown Tunnel at 70 mph orchestrated a somber snarling fugue of Doplering reverberations.

  Helmet at his side, Harlan walked along the well-manicured grounds of the mausoleum where his father had been interred more than a decade ago, resembling a pilot returning from an awful tour of duty. He walked along the rows of names and familiar epitaphs until resting before his father's.

  “You’re really not missing much these days. A new virus is out here killing people. The country is in quarantine. All manner of insanity rampant in these conditions,” he laughed. “Anyway, I’ve actually met someone in all this. Someone a little different. The kinda girl who understands Sunday Dinner, you know?

  “I’ve been with a lot of women I wanted to be with, but I never felt like I needed to be with any of them. Is that it? Is that how it works? And Dad, she likes it. I found her in my Auditorium. Probably the last thing I designed that we were both proud of. I caught her taking pictures of our archway system, after everyone had left.”

  He imagined his father saying the words he knew he would if he was still able to:

  “If you’re happy, I’m happy. Just be sure she’s worth risking everything for.”

  “She is. I’m sure.”

  ***

  The cool blue light the pool threw off, combined with the warm glow of dusk, randomly cast violet shadows. Tory casually swam to the end of the pool and returned in a lazy backstroke of relaxation.

  With plans to join Harlan for dinner, she lapped the pool once more before climbing out and toweling off. She brushed her wet hair smoothly away from her face and draped her shoulders with her towel before walking to the elevator.

  Upstairs in his lounge, Harlen watched Tory approach on the security camera’s feed.

  “Music,” Harlan prompted, “Dies Irae by Wendy Carlos.”

  As the dark synth track started to play, the elevator door opened above the lounge and Tory stepped out and tossed off the towel and basked in the warm sunset’s final glow as it burned hotly into the horizon.

  Seeing Harlan already naked, her lips parted and her breathing shifted in anticipation of any number of firsts in her short sex life.

  “C’mon,” Harlan prompted lightly, extending his arm to her.

  Tory descended and took his hand.

  “Turn around,” he said and took both her slim arms in his hands behind her, then pushed his erection up between her legs and pressed up against the young firmness of her body with primitive satisfaction.

  With her arms held behind her then under his, he began fondling her breasts and teasing her nipples with his fingertips. She could see Harlan’s swollen tip poking out between her thighs, boasting his size.

  Hands pressed between their bodies, she started to stroke at his scrotum with her fingertips while Harlan undid her bikini top. He took it and quickly bound Tory’s wrist behind her back with the stretchy spandex. Kissing her back, he played more roughly with her huge breasts.

  “On your knees,” Harlan demanded, pointing to the area near the sofa where he had laid out additional cushions.

  Becoming increasingly more excited, her breasts rose and swole majestically with each deep breath. Harlan squeezed and appraised them with his hands while rubbing his erection all over Tory’s mouth, teasing her until she got her lips around it.

  Then he pumped his big, hard in her mouth repetitively while holding her head in both hands. Harlan stopped and savored her hot panting for a moment before telling her to turn around.

  “I need to see that curvy, naked body of yours that I love so much,” he instructed her.

  Facing the sofa, he pushed her shoulders and head down on the cushions, raising the curvaceous beauty of her youth before him. He rubbed his face all over her thighs and the small crotch of her swimsuit before rapidly pulling it from over her hips to under her knees.

  Intoxicated by the glistening erotic folds of her pussy aglow with dusk’s light, he slapped her ass red and smoothy rubbed the sting away with his palms afterward as she squirmed and moaned into the sofa cushions.

  “Good girl,” he said, in a low growl. “Let your boss do whatever he wants to you. I always end up making you feel good, even if I use your curvy body for my own pleasure in the process.”

  He thrust himself inside her, loving how her pussy made his cock feel. She was moaning in ecstasy, and he loved how she was letting herself go with him.

  Taking her bikini-bound wrists in one hand and a thick bolt of her damp hair coiled in the other fist, Harlan began to rhythmically stroke, as deep and as hard as possible, until her orgasm became obvious, then let himself go in frenzied abandon, pulling his cock out and spraying his cum all over her body.

  Together, they showered in silence until Tory’s eyes met his.

  “Are we still going to eat dinner?” she asked.

  “Yeah. It’s gonna be tough, though. Lot of places are still closed. There are some great places that still have pickup and delivery, and some with outdoor dining, too. It’s so hard to make a plan sometimes, even before all this COVID mess. I think I’ll just call for something to be dropped off and we can eat it in the room.”

  “Sounds good. But yeah. Maybe there should be an app. Something like Trip Advisor or iGo but for little things, offering like a date package. This is your driver, this is your reservation, this is the discrete Bed and Breakfast,” she kidded with him.

  “Yeah, for couples who want to get away from it all last minute. We could call it E-LOPE; for today, for tomorrow, or forever. Get away with E-LOPE!”

  “That’s a great idea,” she said, her heart pounding fast.

  Was this a hint?

  Did he want to “elope” with her?

  She couldn’t tell for sure.

  But she was determined to enjoy the present with him, and worry about the future later.

  Chapter 16

  The next morning, when there was a knock at her door it was unexpected. Ms. Kalinski stood outside. Despite the mask, Tory could see the tension in the slightly older woman’s brow.

  “Come with me,” Ms. Kalinski insisted, “There’s a young man downstairs to see you. A Jude Coleman. He’s making some unfounded statements and I really need you to set him straight on a couple of issues.”

  When Tory went downstairs to the lobby, she had her mask on. The two security men flanking Jude had masks on. Jude had none. She couldn't help feeling exasperated even as Jude smiled at seeing her.

  “Coming to my rescue sure as I came here for yours?” he said cryptically.

  “What do you think you’re doing by coming here?” Tory demanded. “This is New York City. Haven't you seen the news? There is a major outbreak in this city. How can you think about going home now? How? Are you ready to bury your Uncle Billy, your Mother? Who?”

  “Sweet buckets of Christ, Sugar. What's come over you? You gonna take that thing off so I can see you?”

  “It’s a safety precaution,” she said flatly.

  “Safe! There ain’t no one safer for you than me. That's what I’m doing here. Come to take you home,” Jude said, staring at the mask on Tory’s face.

  “You’re wearing it for him, aren’t you?” he accused sobbingly. “You wanna stay clean for Dawes! Please tell m
e you didn't give him anything that was not his to take!”

  He started advancing on Tory, but not before the security men braced him and turned him back to the door.

  “What are you doing!?” he shouted at them. “Get your fucking hands off me right now!”

  “Keep your voice down, sir, or we must insist that you leave,” the bigger of the security men ordered.

  “I’m not shutting up. I know what this is! I know what this is. Get Harlem Dawes down here right now!”

  The security men forced Jude outside, pushed him to the ground and restrained him.

  “Tory! Victoria! Help me!” he screamed and sobbed.

  “You're gonna get real calm real fast or we’re calling the police,” the security guard warned him.

  Upon hearing the news, Harlan decided to address the matter personally, but not without calling in Meyerwitz to moderate.

  In the conference room, the masked security men put a mask on Jude and wiped his hands down with sanitizer before letting him sit down. The stern and authoritative clacking of Ms. Kalinski’s heels rapidly approached. She opened the door and stepped inside briskly followed by Harlan, who was slipping on a mask.

  Jude’s eye’s followed Harlan angrily as he took a seat across the table.

  “So, Mr. Coleman…” Harlan began and was interrupted by Ms. Kaminsky, who merely said, “Ah-hem,” as opposed to actually clearing her throat, apparently because she liked the sound of it.

  From a big manilla envelope, she slid a tablet, popped open its stand and balanced it on the table. Barry could be seen on the screen, looking quite impatient, as if he had perhaps actually been waiting in an envelope somewhere.

  “This is my attorney, Mr. Meyerwitz, safely joining us via the web. I have here one Jude Coleman of Wisconsin,” Harlan announced, like a gameshow host.

  “I am in the process of filing an order of protection on Ms. Stadler’s behalf,” Barry said, boldly, from the slim black plastic and glass. “Don’t make that become necessary.”