by Ashlee Price
I dove deeply and surfaced, my back fully displayed, in the shallow end where I could stand and let her study it a bit. I did some arm extensions over my head, bending at the waist. Eventually, I worked my way to lifting my leg and bringing it up to my shoulder, exposing my penis. I thought I heard a faint gasp from her corner, but that may have been my hopeful imagination. Regardless, there was no part of my body that I kept hidden—and no reason for her to think that I knew she was there. In fact, I extended my limbs often, exaggerating many of the moves that would involve touching her, so she would have a better sense of what was going to be expected.
I admit it. I was also trying to turn her on. She waited until I dove below the surface again before she pushed open the door and quietly retreated to her room.
I wondered whether she’d ever get any sleep that night. I know I didn’t.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Whitney
Sweet Jesus, I thought as I dove onto my bed. It was one of those moments when you wished you had someone with you who could verify what you’d just witnessed, but you didn’t want their opinion because it held wonderment you weren’t ready to surrender.
I felt hot, I felt cold. My head ached and yet it whirled with wonderment. I’d seen nudity in the movies, and okay, I’ll admit that I once got a look into the boys’ locker room after a basketball game and saw some back-ends headed for the shower. I’d never, not in my life, seen anything that could compare with Dagger. Especially when you considered he was swimming in cold water and there was “room to grow.”
Most of all, and the least curable, was the ache of my breasts and between my legs. I felt like I would go insane. I wondered if it was possible to die in my sleep due to a wanting that went unresolved.
I rolled over to my back and pulled the blankets over me. With my eyes shut, I peeled off my panties and then spread my legs, folding one inward at the knee for greater mobility. Reaching, I did the unthinkable. I touched myself.
This was nothing like the touching that happened in the course of sanitary maintenance. This was more like scratching an itch, but it felt so much, much better. I explored myself, noting that the nub inside my clitoral lips was swollen and highly sensitive. I gently pushed aside the flaps of my labia and gingerly pushed a finger in, cautious lest I cut myself with my own nail. That didn’t bring nearly as much pleasure as that little nub, so I returned there and imagined it was Dagger’s fingers on me. I shivered and was pleasured by the sensation, but I don’t think I orgasmed. Never having done it before, I couldn’t be sure, but from all descriptions, it was more of an event than an ongoing sensation. Surely to God, there had to be more to it than that.
I was embarrassed, even in my privacy, and now I knew I’d never get to sleep. I threw back the covers and retrieved my panties, heading for the shower. At the last moment, I changed my mind and ran a bath, soaking in it for more than an hour. I hoped Dagger wasn’t able to hear me, because I didn’t want to be in the position to explain it, come morning.
The image of him, his magnificent and heroic tattoo, and the muscles that traced paths of fascination around his body were unforgettable. At least, I hoped they’d stored themselves somewhere in the back of my memory, to be retrieved later the next night. That, for now, was as close as I could get.
I flipped on my phone and kicked off a quick email to Tiff, letting her know I was fine and settled in. I snapped a few pictures of my apartment so she knew I wasn’t living in squalor. To be honest, she wouldn’t care as long as I was out of her hair. Tiff was very good at taking care of number one.
The light was just beginning to become discernable outside as I made myself an English muffin and topped it with the raspberry jam I found in the cupboard. I’d have to go out and do my own shopping, but for now, there was a nice selection at my disposal. I sipped a long cup of tea and then dressed, presenting myself for work right on time.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Dagger
“Well, I see you made it,” I said, leaning against the doorway of my office with a cup of coffee in my hand. I could feel the late night swimming had cost me—I was drag-ass tired.
“Why wouldn’t I? I was right upstairs. And I suspected if I didn’t show up on time, you might drag me down.” Her tone was tart, but because I knew the reason, I let it go. I didn’t want her to know that I’d spotted her watching me the night before.
“Want some breakfast?” I offered.
“Nope, had some tea and English muffin upstairs. So, what’s my first job?” I could see that her eyes were puffy. She hadn’t gotten any more sleep than I had. More evidence that she wasn’t sure about what she’d committed herself to. Maybe she wasn’t cut out for this. Maybe I should let her go now before I got myself more hooked and she backed out, leaving me high and dry. No. An assistant, I could find another. A woman like this was one in a million. I wanted to take her hand, pull her into my bedroom and fuck her brains out. Even in my diminished state of alertness, I knew it would be mind-blowing.
Her gorgeous hair was tied back with a ribbon, making her look like a young girl, except for the fact that her workout top had a zipper just low enough for me to see a good two inches of cleavage. This was no little girl I was dealing with. Ah, to hell with it. I might as well give her a break. She didn’t earn a sleepless night any more than I did. In fact, maybe it said something for the current of energy that was drawing us together. She was feeling it, too. I could tell.
“Tell you what,” I said as hospitably as I could. “Let’s call this a settling in day. You can do some workouts in the pool, on your own again, and then take the day to go out and buy whatever you need for the apartment. I know women like that nesting thing. Kat has an envelope for you up front that should get you started nicely. You’ll also need some workout clothes. Buy good stuff—it’s on me. Oh, and do the mani/pedi thing you women do. Eventually, that’s all the clients will see, so you have to keep up the hygiene.”
She was staring at me. I guess she never thought she’d be discussing hygiene with a guy. I turned to go inside and then turned back.
“Oh, and one more thing. You’ll need to get one of those wax things. You know… be totally hairless from the neck down? You do understand what I mean, right? Makes for a more sanitary, well-groomed appearance.”
Her jaw dropped open, so I knew she understood what I was talking about. I’d have to get one of the same things, I supposed. No big deal, I told myself, but I often told myself lies.
I left her standing in the hallway. I knew she didn’t know what to do next. She finally walked toward the pool area, and I heard that door click shut, even from my office. I was beginning to listen for sounds, just like a seal or a dolphin. In my case, I was tracking a certain blonde with boobs like a centerfold, only hers were the real thing. I could tell.
I shut my door hard so she’d hear it and know I hadn’t followed her. God knows I would have solved more than half my problems if I’d done just that. I wanted to drag her back to my bedroom and lay her wide open; to explore every crevice and smell the sweet perfume of her young, healthy body. I knew what she would smell like—I just knew.
I fell across my bed and dropped off to sleep.
The splash was me, hitting the water, and Tim was right behind me. I knew the son of a bitch was spooked, and yet I made him go through with it. He had to. No Tim meant no mission—he was the explosives expert. He used to tell me about making his first firecracker at the age of six and how he’d nearly burned down the old wooden shed behind his parents’ house with it. We were scooting through the water and I could see the hull in the distance. I let go of the handle and the DPV instantly cut off and I left it behind. Where was Malchevsky? The plan called for him to stay behind me and Tim in front. Why had he gone on ahead without us? He could compromise the mission!
There were air bubbles around me, millions of them, and they obscured my ability see where I was going. I was moving forward in the direction of my momentum only. Where’s Tim?
> The bubbles grew bigger and bigger until one nearly encased me. I fought against it and I could see Tim ahead of me, a pit of black and orange flames ahead of him. I needed to stop him! I had to get out of that damned bubble that was holding me back and grab Tim before he went into that boat!
Then it was over. Now the bubbles were red—filled with Tim’s blood. Even the one that held me was solid red. I couldn’t see… I couldn’t see!
I woke up screaming Tim’s name. I was sweating, my blankets soaked. My heart was racing and I was fighting for air. Everywhere I looked, all I saw was red. It dripped from the ceiling and the back of the chair. It covered my legs and streamed down my chest. I leapt up from the bed, ripping my clothes off down to my shorts. I had to get the blood off, had to clean if off and forget about it. I couldn’t take any more of these dreams.
I knew who’d betrayed us. It was Malchevsky. He’d been a loner from the start. He didn’t belong with the rest of us. He wouldn’t follow orders, and he did the minimum he could get by with. He wasn’t even in good shape, and he was a lousy diver. All the clues were there. I just needed proof.
I tore out of the apartment and strode quickly down to the pool, bursting through the doors. I needed to get into the water, to cleanse every part of me.
Then I saw Whitney. Her back was to me and she was just tying the belt that held her robe together. She looked so pure, so white and clean, so virginal. It wasn’t the water I was after; it was her!
That was when it all made sense. The intense attraction she had for me was because my mind saw her as purity and redemption from the hell I’d been living. There was no betrayal, no death and no guilt associated with her. She trusted me and believed in me. There was nothing about her that I had to fix or make better. She was whole.
“Whitney!” I heard myself call her name, and yet it didn’t sound like my voice at all. It was brash and desperate, almost the voice of a dying man.
She swung around in surprise, and now I realized that all she saw was a perspiration-soaked man in his underwear, reaching out toward her. I wasn’t covered with blood, I wasn’t dying.
Even so, despite my unconventional, unexplainable appearance, she didn’t cry out or run. She looked at me for a few moments and then did the most unexplainable thing.
She held out her arms and began to cry. I walked into her arms and the contact was like an immediate immersion in everything that was good, healthy, light, honest and forgiving. Was she one of God’s angels, come to welcome me home? The sensations were so intense, so overwhelming that I was having trouble identifying what was going on.
She was the one crying, and I was the one reborn.
“Shhh…” I whispered to her, my arms around her and holding her against me. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” I asked softly.
She pulled her head back and looked up into my eyes. “I thought you were coming to fire me. I thought you decided you didn’t want me here because I’m not good at what you want from me,” she cried softly.
“You’re not going anywhere. Not as long as I’m here,” I told her, clutching her against my chest as she sobbed. “But why would that be something to cry about?”
“I don’t want to leave you, Dagger.”
That was all I needed to hear. The blood drained away and my world was clean and bright again. The woman I wanted was in my arms and didn’t want to leave. She wanted me for myself—not for what I had or the reputation I supposedly had that frightened others off.
“Shhh… no one is going anywhere. Except, that is, maybe out to dinner tonight? Would you have dinner with me, Whit?”
She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her robe and nodded. “Yes, I’d love that,” she admitted, and suddenly the world was right again.
“Good. Now let’s both of us get a nap and I’ll meet you out the back door at seven this evening. Sound good?”
She swiped at her face again and then frowned with dismay as she noticed her mascara had stained the sleeve.
“It’ll wash out,” I told her.
She nodded and gave me an extra-quick hug. “See you at seven,” she promised and scampered out of the room.
I dove into the pool, shorts and all, and swam twenty laps. Later, in my apartment, I stripped the linens off my bed and lay down on the bare mattress. I slept, soundly, and didn’t wake up until almost six-thirty that evening.
CHAPTER NINE
Whitney
I never got the chance to go shopping that day, so I sorted through my meager wardrobe and decided on the requisite little black dress with spike heels. I piled my hair in an updo, and a little costume jewelry rounded things out. I expected he wasn’t planning on taking me anywhere too fancy. Boy, was I ever wrong.
He was waiting for me behind the building, as we’d agreed. He was driving a white Mercedes, and I realized he could never have fit in a smaller car. He was simply too tall.
“You look charming,” he greeted me. He opened the car door for me, and I have to say I was impressed. He was dressed in dark navy silk slacks and a tan-colored sport coat over an open-necked, white Hilfiger sport shirt. The colors perfectly complemented his tan and his blond hair.
A short drive toward the coast brought us to his yacht club. The attendant parked the car and Dagger held the door for me as we went inside. There was an instant air of welcome as the maître d’ rushed forward to seat us amid a series of handshakes, salutes and people calling out his name. This was without a doubt the swankiest place I’d ever been, and I felt like I’d shopped at K-Mart when compared to the women seated around us. Diamonds glittered, and designer labels were practically sewn to the outside of their dresses. They all seemed to know one another, and the conversation was a constant undertone, sporadically penetrated by a hearty male laugh when someone told a particularly humorous story. I wanted to drape a linen napkin over my face and sneak out past the ladies’ room.
Dagger, on the other hand, seemed totally at home. I realized then how wealthy he must be to have such friends. But how? The studio hadn’t even officially opened yet, and I knew the Navy hardly made you rich. I couldn’t help myself.
I looked around and leaned closer to whisper, “Lots of money in this room.”
He laughed. “Yes, I suppose there is. Most of the money from the city migrates up this way eventually. Why? Did you think I was poor?”
I shook my head as I shrugged. “Tell you the truth, I really don’t know what I thought. Never gave it any, actually. I thought you were just a good-looking entrepreneur who recently got out of the Navy.”
“Good-looking, you say?” he asked, prodding me to repeat the compliment.
“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t know, Dagger. Half the women in this room would leave their husbands and drop their drawers to spend a night with you.”
He laughed aloud at that one. “Only one woman here I’d agree to sleep with, and I’m already at her table.”
I blushed as his words sank in.
“And don’t worry, I’ve got enough on my credit card to pay for dinner,” he added.
I took him seriously. “We can go Dutch. Really, I don’t mind. I just enjoy being here with you.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you? Whit, I lost my parents when I was in high school. I inherited. Just don’t worry about anything, and I mean that.”
“You sure? I really don’t mind.”
Dagger held his finger over my lips. “Hush. We don’t talk about such things here. What would you like to drink?”
The waiter had appeared at Dagger’s side.
“Why don’t you go ahead and order for me?”
“Bring us two glasses and a magnum of your best champagne.”
“Very well, Mr. Braun.” The man disappeared briefly, but returned with the bottle iced in a silver bucket. He poured two flutes and disappeared as Dagger handed me one and raised his for a toast.
“To successful outcomes,” he toasted. I met his glass with my own and took a sip. I’d never been a drinker,
so I was going to have to take this very, very slowly.
I looked around. “No wonder you’re opening your studio. Everybody in this room is prime for becoming a client.”
“Indeed,” he nodded. “They are.”
That was when it struck me. I stared hard at Dagger and spoke my mind. “You brought me here to let them see the new female instructor. This was what you meant by going to dinner with clients.” My heart dove with my realization. I’d been so happy, thinking this was a real date, when all along, he’d have brought anyone who got the job.
“No!” His voice was low but adamant. “That has nothing to do with it. I brought you here tonight because this is the only place I know within thirty miles that’s good enough for you.”
I drew in my breath. Was he lying? He read my mind.
“You’re wondering if I’m lying to you, aren’t you?”
I sipped my flute. “Maybe… a little.”
“Don’t ever question what I tell you, Whit. I mean that. Not just because it’s an insult to me, but because someday your welfare may depend on it. You hear me?”
I lifted my napkin to my lips and nodded. “I’m sorry. I need to go to the ladies’ room.”
“Whitney, I’m not trying to be a tough guy. You don’t know me very well yet, but you will. I just want to make that one point very clear.”
I knew I had touched a sensitive nerve. He was overreacting to my comment, but I took the high road for the time being. I’d have to be on the lookout for the future. Perhaps I could help him with whatever it was that made him so defensive and yet so devil-may-care at the same time. Money could explain the irresponsible attitude, but not the submerged anger.
The waiter reappeared with a menu, and a calmer Dagger offered one to me. I gave him a pass signal, so he ordered surf and turf with a baked potato and a side salad.