by Hart, Romi
He smiled at me as I quickly grabbed my panties…almost doing the unthinkable and leaving them in the office for a temp to find.
“Glad you remembered.”
“Yeah CFO might not get away with that shit.”
“I want them, Denise.”
“What?”
“Your panties. Let me have them.”
“You’re a real perv, aren’t you, Simeon?”
“Yes, I am. Now give them here.”
“And what am I going to wear home?”
“Nothing. You said yourself, you picked those panties for me. So I want them. I want a part of you, Denise.”
“You are corrupting me, Mister Hollock.”
“Yes.”
“You enjoy it, don’t you?”
“Do you?”
“I honestly don’t know.” I smile deviously back at him. Flirting maybe, but it’s the damned truth. I’m thoroughly confused by everything we’ve done, everything I felt.
Are we friends now? Are we risking friendship by carrying on this way? Was this a mutual discovery, a dream come true…or was I just another play all along?
I almost feel like crying, or telling him off, or insulting him again just for a quick laugh.
But to my relief, even after being the twisted fuck of a lover I never knew I wanted…he shows me a familiar face.
“Would you like to go to dinner?” he says with a less cocky smile, something close to serene.
“Yes I would,” I say shyly.
“It would be my honor to take you. As always.”
I bask in the afterglow of no regrets. I playfully take his hand as we prepare to leave the building – right before a quick visit to the surveillance room.
Simeon Hollock, a man of a million surprises, a riddle, and a paradox. I can’t wait to read the next chapter, not of his book, but of his even more mysterious personal life.
Chapter 8
Simeon
There is something truly sublime about lying naked in bed next to a woman who may or may not love you. It’s an emotional paradox…to be vulnerable, to be naked in emotion and soul, but to continue separate journeys. I look over Denise’s nude body.
Still sleeping. We went home after our first “real date” at the office and then chowed down at an all-night restaurant. By the time we went back to her place, we were drained of all conversation…and still full of food!
But now the morning after, the lustful feeling returns.
I watch her perfectly round ass and back, gently moving up and down as she breathes into a pillow. Her skin is so milky white, so pure and clean. Even if she smells like sex the next morning, it’s a wonderful fragrance I want to spray all over my body.
Neither of us can really commit to anything right now, except this—what feels good for the moment. The long-term scenario spooks us both. We seem to work better in fantasies. Me dominating her, it feels natural. Maybe it’s even a little poetic. After all, I resisted her and she resisted me. Sex never happened all those years ago because neither of us would just take what we wanted.
Now that I’ve “taken her”, a certain weight has lifted. We both feel free, invigorated by the psychosexual frenzy we created. But after the afterglow passes, we start to think deeper. Think harder and about more end scenarios. That’s the scary part. Not knowing what this is, but earnestly holding on tight to this.
I roll over and check my phone for new messages. Only one.
I glance at her perfect ass and shudder in orgasmic joy. I bring her perfect bum and silky back into focus and then snap a picture to encapsulate this moment.
“Mmmm?” she says, waking up and turning around. “Are you taking nudes of me?”
“Maybe,” I say with a sly smile. “I am a lover of art.”
“Ohhh, is my body a beautiful work of art to you?” she says, as she turns around, showing me her big bouncy breasts while making sweet gentle love to my eyes.
“Indeed,” I say, dropping my phone and taking her into my arms. “A painting, a sculpture flawless in every way.”
“I’m definitely not flawless,” she says after falling into my kiss.
“Your real, natural body is the sexiest thing about you,” I say snuggling my face into her chest until she giggles.
“Mmmm…you’re a smart man. Very smart.”
“No. Just aware of what a lucky man I am.”
We finished our kiss. We were almost ready to fuck again, until we both realized maybe we need a replenishing of vitamins and water before round two. I was excited to talk about what’s coming next. But I decided to let my lady love speak first.
“So…” she said, a little nervously, folding her arms and protecting her bare chest. “I suppose you have to go to work today. I know I do.”
“No,” I say, smiling brightly. “I’m taking the day off today. How about you? Would you like a ride to work?”
“Mmm,” she said with a smile. “Maybe I’ll call in today. If you had plans for us?”
“Did I catch you in a white lie, Denise?”
“Maybe,” she giggles. “I was actually taking today off. But I did kind of hold onto it like an Ace card, you know. In case you were the ‘get the hell out of my bed’ type.”
“Not at all. I was actually hoping to show you around my house. Unless…unless you’re opposed to such shallow and pathetic displays of wealth?”
“You know what?” Denise laughs. “Since I can probably afford all of the furniture in your house…I’ll say I’m not opposed to such a pathetic display. In fact, I look forward to it!”
She smiles at me and readies for an adventure.
Denise must have underestimated the price of my furniture. She being the hardworking, master-planning executive type, she probably doesn’t get caught up in frivolous spending. I, well, I do tend to struggle with it. I can’t help it, when I see ancient Japanese artifacts, exotic weapons of forgotten civilizations, arcane sculptures dedicated to the dead, I buy them up and put them all over my house.
Why? I’m not sure, except to say that what else does one put in an armory? Even if I was living in more modest accommodations I would prefer to fill the walls with something precious. Every building is a museum, if only we treated them that way.
My collection of swords, ruins from Corto Maltese, it’s all worthless to the average person…and yet sells for thousands, sometimes millions. I like to think of buying so many pointless, priceless things as giving people money for something. Giving people money for nothing doesn’t seem right. We all have trade, we all have commodity, time, energy. We help one another. If not through money, then with personal investment.
Denise is flabbergasted, dare I say, at just how much money I actually have—at least by the looks of my ridiculously decorated “lair” of a mansion.
“Surprised?” I say, as I watch Denise walk slowly through the armory, looking on at all the huge exhibits that I call furniture.
“This is…just…wow. I had no idea billionaires actually live like superheroes. Or at least, decorate like one.”
“Well the décor is more supervillain, I’ll give you that.” We laugh it off.
“It’s a very interesting ambiance,” she says her eyes darting around, fascinated with the lifestyle of an eccentric.
“Well if it makes you feel any better, if I were a poor man they would say I was nuts. The reward of being rich is that your crazy behavior instantly becomes eccentric.”
“Well I see through you, Simeon,” she says with a smile. “I knew you before you were eccentric. And I don’t hate it or think it’s crazy. I actually really like the look of the place. You should let people tour.”
“Oh I do. Oh wait you mean like uh…people? Like uh…”
“Yes, Simeon,” she says with raised eyebrows. “People. As in people you’re not sleeping with.”
“Ah, I see,” I reply as I rub my hair and smile. “I’ve heard of such a thing.”
“Yes, don’t forget how the little people live. We c
an’t afford another billion-dollar prick in charge of the economy.”
“You’re right,” I say. “I just want to help. Life has been good to me. I want to give something back.”
“Give something back besides just your dick?”
I laugh in disbelief. “Man, you have such an acid tongue sometimes.”
“I’m sorry…I really am working on that,” she says shyly. “Sometimes I think it’s leftover trauma about Mickey. You know?”
“Ah.”
A beat goes by and we both become uncomfortable. “Well, to be honest you never really went into detail about Mickey. And I didn’t think it was my right to ask. It was business between the two of you.”
“Yeah I know…” she said, avoiding eye contact and stewing.
“You know, we don’t have to talk about it.”
“No, no,” she says. “It’s fine. It’s in the past now. I should just own up to what happened.”
“Well I assume you know…that he was…emotionally abusive? I got the impression, but I didn’t want to come in the middle of you two.” She nods. “I mean…was it just emotional abuse?”
“Yes. He never touched me, I mean, not real fight-touching you know. Aggressive touching now and then. But mainly just the constant bullying and insulting comments. I really let him get into my head.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, trying to control myself. I feel obliged to say something…but I also feel that maybe she just needs to vent.
“He gave me PTSD. I know that some people think, oh everyone goes through breakups and it’s not PTSD. But…” She shakes her head and looks wounded. “I fucking know what it feels like to be stuck in an abusive relationship. I wouldn’t want any other woman, or man, or anything to be treated the way I was treated.”
“I understand.”
“And it took me a long time to actually realize that he was emotionally abusing me. Most guys are like, well he didn’t hit you, did he? But sometimes the emotional wounds can be just as deadly as the physical ones. God, Simeon, I felt like killing myself when I lived with him. I thought about it…I almost did it.”
She looks at me grimly and I shy away, ashamed of my own species.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m sorry that I didn’t speak up…”
“Oh no, don’t say that,” she said. “If you had told me to leave him that day, you know when we were alone together, I would have told you that I loved him. I would have made excuses for myself. I would have probably hated you for telling me the truth.”
“Yeah well…I don’t care what it makes me. I don’t care if you’re married. But if a guy treats you like crap, if a guy ever makes you cry…that’s it. He forfeits all rights to live a happy life with you. You have every reason to leave him and I would not only help you leave him and divorce him, but I would fuck you right in front of him. That’s the only way to deal with an abuser.”
She smiles. “Well thanks, I think. So you’re definitely not ‘Bros before hoes?’”
“Absolutely not. It’s not a competition. It’s about honesty and respect.”
“You have always been a respectful, decent man, Simeon. Even after money ruined you.”
I laugh it off…but stare at her, still smiling. She’s not laughing back. She’s smiling but she’s not teasing me like before. I think she really means it.
We ate a light dinner, hopefully with plans to screw each other silly again tonight. As I stare at Denise who’s sitting across from me on the couch, I can’t help but feel a little giddy. She was once expressly forbidden for me to take. Now that I’ve had her, I still can’t get enough of her. It’s a growing addiction. When we first were together I felt the rush of romance. I even felt a hard-on for stealing Mickey’s wife, even though I know they’re long divorced now.
But now, when we kiss or touch each other it feels different. I want her, but it’s a more consuming feeling, one craving intimacy, more closeness that sex doesn’t give us. I wonder if she feels the same way?
After the house tour became gratuitous, I decided to direct my lady to the swimming pool, the only room in the house that I felt was unpretentious, the marble flooring beside the point. No dark décor in here, just pure clean water and an indoor pool fit for all ages. Very unpretentious, very much unlike say, my sex dungeon. I notice Denise stayed clear of that room as I’m sure we both agreed, that would be a tad awkward.
We had already seen each other naked in the most obscene ways, so I hardly thought twice about lifting my shirt off and taking a dip in the pool wearing my purple Brazilian trunks. Polyester and spandex blend, inspired by Ibiza nightlife. They’re made to be underwear and swimming trunks, allowing billionaire playboys easy access to land and water.
Denise laughs and encourages me. I welcome her inside the pool.
“Ohhh I don’t have anything to wear.”
“I figured you’d say that. You’ll find some swim wear, brand new, in the dresser over by the griller.”
She excitedly ran over to see my exterior dresser. There, she found several swimsuits in varying sizes.
“Oh you do think of everything, don’t you Mister Hollock?”
“One has to, when he tells a convincing story.”
“Wait…” I say boldly, meeting her eyes, noticing she’s wandering off. “Dress right now. In front of me.”
She blushes. “I’m a little shy.”
“You have no reason to be, sweetheart. You have a beautiful and amazing body. The kind they ought to display in museums so men all over the world could look at you and say ‘This is why we fight.’”
She laughs hard. “Oh come on. I’m nobody.”
“Wrong again. You’re near perfection. Now do it. Get dressed right here. I want to watch.”
She eyes me in reluctance right before smiling back at me and retreating. The next time she looks at me, she takes off her white blouse and shows me her green bra. A delicious smile comes over me as I watch my lady pull down her skirt and show matching green panties.
I raise my hands over my head as I lean against the edge of the pool. I want nothing more in this world than to spend another day, a full day, with Denise Cornet. No rules, no commitments, no expectations. Just our hottest, wildest fantasies fulfilled to the last drop.
I smile ear to ear as she steps out of her panties and unhooks her bra. She smiles at me, trying to feign confidence but I can tell she’s still a little bashful. She shouldn’t be. She’s so gorgeous.
“So beautiful,” I say, watching as she climbs into her swimsuit, a teal-colored swimsuit with black patterns ziggling through it. Her swimsuit is a one-piece with red straps that tie along the back of the neck. The obvious advantage of course that her phenomenal DDD breasts push through the swimsuit giving me an eyeful of cleavage.
She smiles…as she runs over and jumps into the pool. She comes up and slowly begins swimming in my direction. Her eyes are fixed on me, loving only me for this eternal moment. I almost wish I could die in this moment, knowing that life won’t get any better than Denise Cornet’s face smiling at me.
“What are you doing?” I mutter, having fallen asleep on my lounge chair. After frolicking around in the water for a while, I decided to come back on land for a quick nap. A five-minute power nap took about twenty minutes…whoops.
I smile as I see Denise on the other lounge chair fubbing through her iPhone.
“I thought you had an Android?” I mumble, trying to shake my sleepies away.
“This is your phone.”
I flinch twice. “You’re looking through my phone?”
“Indeed I am,” she says, suddenly, not teasingly or even very shyly. Uh oh, something’s wrong.
“What…what…”
“Feeling a little nervous, huh?” she says with a scorned face. “I thought you might.”
“Well…who said you could go through my phone?”
“Ohhh touché!” she says, suddenly looking very caustic. “You got me. Then again, who said YOU could send a nude
picture of me to your friend Zander?”
Oh shit.
“Yeah! What about that? Let’s talk about that, right after I apologize for going through your phone. No wonder you don’t want me going through your phone, who knows what other secrets you have.”
“You know…” I try to laugh the danger off. “I don’t care. You can go through my phone if you want. I have no secrets…”
“Uh huh. Sure. And when, my friend, were you planning on telling me that you sent a shot of my ASS to your jerk friend? Was that ever going to be discussed?”
I sigh. Damn, caught red-handed and with only wet swimming trunks separating me from the love of my life…who currently wants to kill me.
“Sorry, I was…”
“Did you just say you’re sorry? Oh my God, Simeon!”
“What?”
“What is wrong with you? You just decided to send my ass photo to your friend and you didn’t even think to tell me?”
“I thought I had your permission?”
“When?! How?! What planet did this happen on?”
“Remember? We were talking about your beautiful, beautiful, amazing, perfect body…”
“UH HUH? Flattery won’t do you any favors, pervert.”
“I uh…sorry. I guess I thought you’d be cool with me, you know, bragging about you. To my jackass friends.”
“Bragging about me?”
“Of course. Darling, Zander and I have dated lots of pretty women over the years. But you are by far the sexiest, most perfectly sculpted woman I’ve ever met! I had to brag…telling him that you were the best I’ve ever had!”
“Uh huh, whatever,” she said folding her arms and handing my phone back to me. “Bullshit and more bullshit.”
“For real! I wouldn’t have sent him a picture if I meant any harm by posting it, of course not. I respect you so much. But you, my dear, you should be proud of your body. You’re amazingly beautiful. The most artistic, gorgeous figure I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
“Riiiiight,” she bites back, walking towards the exit. “And so you just decided that you had the right to post my ass all over the Internet.”