Flawless

by JD Hawkins

  The waiter brings a basket of freshly baked bread to the table along with a spicy olive tapenade and marinated heirloom tomatoes. Zoe rips off a slice and I realize how hungry I am too. “Can I ask you another question?”

  “You can ask as many as you’d like.”

  “The PowerPoint? The hard data?”

  Zoe pops a slice of tomato into her mouth, the juice running down her chin just before she wipes it away. “There never was a PowerPoint. All part of the plan.”

  “I knew it.” I cross my arms. “I’ll have to consult my lawyer, but I’m pretty sure you just defrauded a bunch of Wall Street bankers.”

  Zoe examines me as I chew my food slowly, taking everything in. “Are you mad?” she asks. Her tone sounds earnest.

  “Of course not,” I say. “You’re a genius.” I lean in to kiss her, lick the syrupy balsamic vinegar off the corner of her mouth.

  16

  Liam

  “Where are we going?” Zoe asks, gazing out the window of the taxi.

  “Patience, my dear. You’re not the only one with surprises tonight.”

  “The surprise better not be presenting at another investor meeting.”

  I slide Zoe’s hair behind her ear, kissing her deeply. “I’m not evil,” I reply. “My surprise is of a more romantic nature.”

  “I like the sound of that,” Zoe says, and she goes in for another kiss, biting at my upper lip in a playful way. The taxi driver does his best to avert his eyes and keep them on the road.

  We finally stop around West 34th Street and 11th Ave, just as the sun is beginning to set, thanks to the beauty of long summer nights. I help Zoe out of the backseat, and I see an anxious look in her eye as she comes to a realization. “Liam, where’s our stuff? I didn’t even think, when we were leaving the restaurant—”

  “It’s all taken care of. I had Felipe send it ahead to the hotel, so it’ll be waiting for us when we get there. Here,” I say, giving Zoe a pair of running shoes and socks I had tucked away in my bag. I hope they’re the right size. I sneaked a look at Zoe’s heels the night she stayed over and they were an 8.

  “Liam—”

  “We’re going to be doing some walking, if you’re up for it, and you will be absolutely miserable if you have to slog along in those stilettos. I can hold them in my bag for you.”

  Zoe sits down on a bench and slips on the socks, the shoes. “They fit perfectly,” she says. “Are we just walking around the neighborhood?”

  “Not quite,” I respond, and we climb the semi-hidden stairs up to the High Line.

  “What is this place?”

  “An elevated park built over old train tracks with a sublime view of Chelsea and western Manhattan. You’ll see over 500 species of plants and trees along with the occasional art installation, and it’s just under a mile and a half. You up for it after the long day we’ve had?”

  Zoe barrels into me with a deep bear hug. “Are you kidding? After a day stuck on a plane and standing around at that intense meeting, I would love a walk. And this weather is perfect for it. Look at all of these flowers! And the view of the river from up here—I love this. Thank you, Liam. You knew just what I needed.”

  We stroll hand in hand along the High Line, stopping every so often for Zoe to take photos or rest on a bench and people watch. When it seems nobody’s looking, I snag a pink daisy from one of the gardens and tuck it into the front pocket of her blouse.

  “You must know how insanely romantic this is. I feel like I’m in a movie,” Zoe says, swirling around with joy.

  “You deserve it. I can’t emphasize how fucking impressed I am by you every single day. And beyond that, this app is going to be next level thanks to what you did today. It wouldn’t have been possible without you. And you can look forward to plenty more outings like this.”

  “Well. I guess I have always wanted to be swept off my feet,” Zoe replies, and I scoop her up in my arms. Being with her here, I realize I’ve missed the days when my job and my life were not synonymous with each other. The freedom I felt, that I could do whatever I wanted with my future.

  Zoe pulls my face toward her for a kiss, and then we begin making out, despite the fact that we’re exposed to passersby.

  “Get a room,” one young guy shouts.

  Zoe giggles and I feel myself starting to get hard from the excitement of it all.

  “We better keep going,” she says, and I nod and set her down.

  We resume our stroll, though there’s a part of me that imagines taking Zoe back to our hotel room right at this very moment, tugging her skirt up and taking her from behind in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, the darkening city spread out before us.

  “How would you feel about another surprise tonight?” I ask her.

  “I think I could handle it,” she says. “But just one more. I was hyped up all day on adrenaline, but I’m starting to fade now that the meeting’s finally over.”

  “Don’t worry. This next surprise will take very little effort on your part.”

  Once we finish the High Line, we take a taxi to Midtown and get out at the St. Regis Hotel on the corner of Fifth Avenue. Zoe stares up at the gorgeous French Beaux-Arts façade, taking it all in with a smile. “This place is a dream. It looks like a castle.”

  “Only the best for you,” I tell her. I lead her through the doors, past the smiling doorman, and to the bell desk where we collect our luggage.

  “Do we check in now?” Zoe asks.

  “We can check in, yes—but first I have to ask you something.”

  Her brow furrows. “Okay…?”

  “I realize you don’t like flying, though it was news to me, and I know we had planned to stay in the city—and I have a very nice suite booked here if you’d like to stick to that plan, it’s your call—but, if you’re in the mood for an adventure, I have a very comfortable house in the Hamptons, and I also happen to be a very capable pilot. So if you’re feeling brave, we can take our things and head over to the 34th Street helipad right now.”

  “You have a helicopter?” Zoe blurts out, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her more astonished, like someone just knocked the wind out of her. She laughs. “This is crazy, Liam!”

  “So what do you say? Are you in?”

  17

  Zoe

  I can’t believe Liam has his own helicopter. I knew he was well off, but a helicopter? A house in the Hamptons? That’s a whole other level.

  Liam smiles at me, his eyes grayish-blue in the twilight. What I love is that I can tell he isn’t trying to impress me, or at least not in a way where he’s trying to flaunt his wealth. His cheeks are rosy, a bit of a blush, almost as if he’s a little embarrassed by the opulence of it all. I also feel a twinge inside of me as I realize that a helicopter would involve flying for the second time in one day, but at this point, I’m so exhausted and warmed by the dinner wine and our walk that I think I can handle being briefly up in the air.

  “I’d love to, but I’ve never been in a helicopter before,” I tell him.

  “I think you’ll do great. It’s much better than an airplane, we fly lower, you get windows all around you, and the winds are calm tonight so it’s perfect time to fly. I also guarantee I’m a responsible and considerate pilot. You in?”

  “Yes!”

  By the time we get to the heliport, I’m starting to seriously reconsider my decision. I want to do this—hell, I could never have even dreamed of doing something as amazing as this—but once we’re standing in front of the chopper I realize I’m so scared my knees are shaking.

  “Zoe? You still okay? We can head back to the Regis if you’re having second thoughts.”

  I force a grin. “And give up this incredible opportunity? Never.”

  I pull him in for a kiss, long and slow, and feel my heartrate start to slow.

  Then Liam takes my hand, and I climb into the helicopter. He helps me fasten my seatbelt and put on a headset so we can hear each other talk on the journey. Unlike sitt
ing trapped amid other people on an airplane, amid the muffled roar of the jet engines, the open space and thumping ripple of the helicopter blades actually make me feel calm, like I’m listening to the metronomic sound like a heartbeat. Despite the adrenaline and excitement pumping through me, I can’t believe how tired I am.

  “Hey Liam?”

  “Hmmm?”

  He checks all of the dials and controls, clearing our flight path with air traffic control and shifting the throttle so we hover at first and then begin to gently ascend. I feel light and free, and so relaxed that I snuggle into the seat and let myself enjoy the view of the city lights spread out beneath us.

  “If I fall asleep, will you carry me to bed?”

  “Roger that.” Liam plops a big smooch on my cheek and then gently guides the helicopter into the cool calm of the evening.

  I wake up just after dawn, bright and alert. I have no recollection of arriving at the house and see my clothes neatly hung in the open closet, a blanket tucked up below my chin. Liam sleeps soundly beside me, breathing deeply. I slide out of bed, careful not to disturb Liam, finding a thick, Turkish cotton robe and slippers sitting atop one of the dressers. Putting them on makes me feel a bit like a little kid again, the robe dragging on the carpet, the slippers far too large for my feet, but it’s cozy and nice.

  I want to take a look at the exterior of the house and soon find the heavy oak front door leading outside. I blink up at what I realize would more aptly be described as a manor, the property at least several acres, the architecture evoking the classic, simple designs of something one might find in the French countryside (though a much more opulent version, of course).

  A smaller cottage to my left must be the guest house, and I’m agape at the manicured gardens, the broad, sweeping lawns, the blooming crepe myrtle trees with their vivid magenta, fiery red, and pastel pink flowers. I tiptoe around to the back of the house and find an enormous pool with a waterfall spa and the beach a short walk away in the distance. Adjacent to the pool is a full-sized basketball court, the pavement clean and smooth.

  I peer through the glass windows of the sunroom at the back of the house, realizing I can see straight through the house to the front entryway, where the staircase I walked down spirals around a chandelier up to the second floor.

  My plan is to head back around to the front door, crawl into bed with Liam, and fall asleep again with my head nuzzled up against his shoulder. But when I try the knob, I realize that the door must have locked itself when I closed it. Great.

  I consider trying to find a window to climb through, or walking around the perimeter of the house and hoping that one of the other doors will be unlocked—except the only thing more humiliating than knocking on the front door to be let back in would be to set off an alarm or cut myself up crawling through the rose bushes under the windows. I take a deep breath, resign myself to my embarrassing fate, and take the heavy brass knocker in my hand, heaving it against the front door several times, loud enough for Liam to be startled out of his sleep. I wait for a few moments, then decide to knock again.

  The door opens revealing Liam, wearing a pair of boxer briefs.

  “I’m not dreaming, am I?” he asks.

  “Nope, I’m actually wearing only a robe and locked out of your house,” I reply, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

  “You look like an angel. The glow of the morning light around you.”

  “Are you going to let me in? Someone might see me!”

  “I guarantee you there’s nobody around for miles. But of course you can come inside, if that’s what you want. Unless…”

  He slides his boxers off and steps toward me, his gorgeous cock already thick and stiff.

  “It is a beautiful morning,” I say softly as he kisses me along my jaw, down my neck. He slips my robe off, revealing all of me. He takes one of my breasts in his mouth and sucks until I let out a sharp gasp.

  I can’t believe we’re standing naked out here, where anyone could drive by and see us. I wonder what it would be like to let him take me out in the open air, our moans echoing in the trees, the warm sunlight and ocean breezes caressing our bodies. I can feel myself getting wet.

  He pulls his head away and I kiss him deeply, feeling his rock-hard cock pressing against me. He lifts me in his arms and carries me out onto the perfectly manicured lawn, where we sprawl out in the fresh dewy grass, kissing and touching. I tug him on top of me and take the head of his cock in a firm grip, rubbing it up and down my wet slit, teasing him. He shudders with pleasure and slides his tongue over my nipples, down my stomach until his mouth is on my pussy, his tongue inside of me and then flicking at my clit. I can feel myself getting close.

  “Don’t stop—right there,” I pant, thrusting faster against his mouth.

  Liam uses his fingers to finish me off and I come twice, one hot, rapid shockwave of an orgasm followed by another slower, deeper one, bliss and elation overwhelming me to the point of tears. “Oh my god, Liam,” I groan. “Fuck.”

  Liam kisses me deeply, then positions me so that I’m lying on my back with my legs straight up in the air, one of his hands wrapped around my crossed ankles as he pushes his cock into my pussy, thrusting hard and deep, the length of him plunging all the way inside of me.

  “That feels so good,” I murmur. I cross my legs tighter to create more friction, moving my pelvis in time with his thrusting.

  “You feel good,” he groans in response. “You’re perfect.”

  “Harder. Fuck me harder.”

  He obliges, fucking me like his life depends on it, slapping my ass until he opens his mouth in a speechless gasp, his body rocking against mine, moaning as he comes in a hot rush. He lowers my legs gently and leans over to kiss me, again and again, until he rolls off of me and we lie next to each other in the grass, catching our breath, holding hands.

  “Maybe we should’ve stuck to the bed,” he says, and I laugh as I notice that both of us are covered with tiny grass trimmings.

  “No way. That was incredible. I’ve always wanted to have sex outside,” I reply. “Not inside a tent or in a car, but truly out in the open.”

  “Your wish is my command,” Liam says, pulling me closer. “Any other fantasies you’ve been dreaming about?”

  “I have a few, but you’ll just have to wait to find them out. Right now I’m dreaming of a long, hot, luxurious shower, if that sounds alright with you.”

  “Sounds perfect,” he says.” And in the meantime, I’ll do a few laps in the pool and then make us breakfast.”

  “You don’t want to take a shower too?”

  “I love swimming in the mornings here. Helps me clear my head, gather my thoughts. You’re welcome to join me.”

  I give Liam a kiss on the forehead. “You go ahead, boss. I’ll see you in a few. And no rush—I have a few lady friends I need to catch up with.”

  18

  Liam

  Zoe saunters into the kitchen just as I’m finishing up the second herb and chevre omelette, using a dish towel to take the cast iron pan off the heat.

  “I hope you like goat cheese,” I say, gesturing at the dishes lined up on the counter. “I made us omelettes with field greens on the side, dressed with champagne vinaigrette.”

  “It smells amazing. Ooh, and strawberries and cream? They’re my favorite!” she exclaims, popping one into her mouth and moaning with pleasure. “God, these are perfect. If you ever decide to quit being an entrepreneur, you could definitely have a career as a chef.”

  I laugh. “I think if cooking were my profession, it might not be such a satisfying hobby anymore. And you definitely don’t want that to happen.”

  “No sir, I don’t,” Zoe agrees. She gets up on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on my cheek.

  “Did you get ahold of your lady friends?” I ask.

  “Yup. And they’re all totally jealous of your helicopter and your restaurateur friends. That I.O.U. dinner you offered better be out of sight”

  “Oh, it w
ill be,” I say. “Just you wait.”

  She grins. “Can I help? Or did you do everything already?”

  “I’d love it if you could set the table while I get the food plated.”

  “You got it.”

  As Zoe busies herself setting out glasses and napkins and utensils, I lay the food out on the table. “Please, sit,” I say. “And have as many strawberries as you like; they’re from the farmers’ market in town. I also sliced up a few white peaches from the small orchard out back.”

  “Everything looks heavenly,” Zoe sighs, watching as I fill her plate with food.

  After I’ve poured us coffee and made myself a plate, we eat in companionable silence for a minute or two. I can tell something’s on her mind by the way her eyes keep flashing up at me, as if there’s a question she’s debating whether or not to ask.

  “There are so many things I don’t understand about you, Liam. Like I have all these puzzle pieces, and some of them fit together, but I still have no idea what the final image is.”

  “What sort of things?” I ask.

  “Well, I’m still wondering—why did you want to create a makeup app? Given the projects you’ve worked on before and the fact that you’re a fairly masculine straight man in his mid-30s, I’m having a hard time figuring out what interests you so much about makeup. You’ve put in a lot of time and money on this thing.”

  I shrug, finishing my bite of omelette. “You’re right. It doesn’t make sense on the surface, and I’ll be honest, I didn’t have a super clear image of what I wanted to do when I started. But as far as the rationale? You know how I mentioned I have a little sister? Jess?”

  “I remember.”

  “She had a really rough time as a teenager, and because of other family stuff that was going on at home, I ended up stepping in as a kind of de facto parent. One of the issues is that Jess has vitiligo, where areas of your skin lose their pigment, and so she has these white patches of skin on her face while her normal skin tone is a warm olive color.”