by Kira Blakely
Throughout our years together, she was always in the back of my mind. Every time I fucked a girl, I imagined Bonnie under me when I came. If I ever spent a night alone, I jerked off to her, picturing her bouncing breasts as she ran to catch the bus. She was my ideal woman. The woman I knew I should never touch or bang, because I was so afraid of proving myself wrong. I would never be able to live up to her expectations. I would never be good enough for her. I was set in my ways, and the best thing to do would be to leave Bonnie Calhoun alone.
I remember that red dress though. The one she was wearing when she walked into Pete’s Pub that night, toward the end of college. I remember it because I had been fooling around with Melissa Meyers, and I knew my fingers still smelled of her. Melissa liked doing things like that, kinky things out in the public. She got some kind of thrill out of it. And I was only too willing to comply. I hadn’t expected to see Bonnie there that night though, not in my natural habitat.
But she was walking away from me. I had always wondered if she saw me with Melissa, if she had caught us in the act. Because Bonnie was weaving through the crowds of people in the pub, like she was trying to get away. For some reason, I decided to follow her. Something in me had snapped that night when I saw her. She looked troubled, lost, confused. I didn’t want to compete anymore, I wanted to throw in the towel in that moment. Confess my feelings for her. I was going to follow her. I wanted to talk to her. Ask her why she had put on that shimmering red dress that made her blue eyes dance.
As I tried to catch up with her, push through the crowds, I could hear Melissa calling out to me, stunned. But I had eyes only for Bonnie, who was fast disappearing out of view. I had an incredible urge to spill all, to confess everything, and tell her how I felt.
But she was getting away. She had burst through the pub doors way ahead of me, and when I finally got out, I could hear her heels clicking on the pavement as she continued to run. And good sense started to finally fill my brain. What was I doing chasing Bonnie Calhoun?
It had been a moment of weakness, and if I had a chance to confess my feelings for her, I would have ruined everything. I would have made it impossible for her to remain my ideal woman. To have her on a pedestal. And I was sure she would have rejected me anyway.
But now I had my chance again. Had I picked her company to buy because I saw her name on the list of partners? I told myself it was pure luck. That chance had brought us together again, but now I was older and I didn’t want to lose my opportunity again.
I knew now that there was no such thing as an ideal woman and that I would be stupid to miss an opportunity to fuck her.
“Hello there, son,” my father boomed in his deep throaty as he walked into the room, and I instinctively stood up, fixing my suit jacket.
Father looked like he was headed to a meeting with world leaders, even though he was retired now and not expected to do anything besides play golf and attend charity events. Sharply dressed in a three-piece suit, with a red handkerchief sticking out of his breast pocket, he walked over to me with long confident steps. We shook hands. He had never been much of a hugger.
“Good to see you, Father,” I said, clearing my throat. He had sort of caught me off guard, dreaming about Bonnie.
Father walked away from me and sat down behind his desk, like he was getting ready to conduct a business meeting. That familiar feeling of nervousness crept up every time I was around him. I was always anxious to please him, but not today.
“I hear that the deal went well?” he asked, unbuttoning his suit jacket.
I took the chair across from his desk and sat down, nodding. I knew he liked to keep himself informed, but I wasn’t sure how in depth his questioning was going to be. I wasn’t in the mood to make conversation.
“It did indeed. They agreed to the offer,” I said with a smile, and Father guffawed.
“Of course they did. What other choice did they have?”
I felt the back of my neck heat. I could picture Bonnie’s disappointed eyes, how hurt she was when she signed the papers.
“And I heard that one of the partners is an old college friend of yours?” Father asked, keeping his clear gray eyes trained on me. I wasn’t sure what he was trying to figure out, but I could see that he was making some assumptions.
“Yes, she is. A classmate,” I answered, shifting in my seat. His steady unwavering gaze was making me uncomfortable.
There was a strange pause in the room, while he continued to stare at me. I tried to avoid his gaze, rage building up inside me. This man had forced me to take over his company and now he was trying to run it from the comforts of his own home. I wanted to stand up and leave. But I had never done anything like that before, and I wasn’t sure what his reaction was going to be.
“I’m glad to see that things are going so well, Nash,” he said, suddenly breaking the silence. He was smiling at me proudly. I gulped, trying to push my anger with him back down my throat.
“Will you be attending the May Fair tonight?” I asked, standing up. I wanted to get out of there. I didn’t want his patronizing approval anymore. I was the one who was running the company, and there was no need for me to report to him any longer.
Father looked up at me and shrugged. “I don’t need to anymore. But maybe I will.”
“I’m bringing Bonnie Calhoun as a date. My college friend whose company we just bought,” I said, buttoning up my jacket again.
Surprise flickered in his eyes. He didn’t think I should be getting involved with her. He was going to say something, but I interrupted him.
“Have a good day, Father. I’ll see you at the ball,” I said and walked out of his office without waiting for a response. I’d had enough of him and his assumption that he could treat me like a puppet. I couldn’t believe how weak I had been all my life, seeking his approval. Some things were going to change around here, starting with my relationship with my father.
Bonnie
Nash had mentioned that it was a charity gala, which meant that I had to dress appropriately. I had never attended one of these before; consequently, I again had nothing to wear.
On the bright side, I didn’t have an office to go to anymore either, so I could scour the stores for something to wear.
“Think elaborate, show-stopping, sexy,” Nell had said over the phone that morning. I wasn’t sure what any of those words meant, but I was going to take her word for it. Not like Nell knew what she was talking about. How many billionaires-only charity galas had she attended in her lifetime?
Eventually, I bought something that fit my budget and looked remotely decent and I returned home to have a long relaxing bath. I felt like I deserved it for the rollercoaster of emotions I was going to experience that night. It was a given.
Well-bathed, appropriately relaxed… I began getting dressed.
Finally, I stood in front of my mirror, not entirely sure if this classified as being over or under dressed. All I knew was that I was about to fall short somehow.
I’d picked out a burgundy off-shoulder gown, with a mermaid-cut skirt that fell delicately down my hips. It had no embellishments, nothing too fancy, other than that it had a slit down the side so that my left leg was revealed every time I took a step. I kept my hair tied up, in a tight bun with the locks neatly pinned up away from my face. My only accessory was the gold earrings that had once belonged to my mother.
For makeup, I kept it simple; a dark burgundy lipstick to match the dress, and a more neutral look for the rest of my face. I didn’t want to appear over-eager. And now I was worried that Nash was going to regret inviting me to this thing. That was, if he turned up in the first place.
He hadn’t given me a time, and I was ready by seven, sitting on my bed, waiting for a honk downstairs or the ring of the doorbell. He knew where I lived; he had turned up here a few days ago. But the question was whether he had changed his mind.
My phone buzzed beside me and I picked it up, noticing that my fingers were quivering a little now. It w
as a text message from an unknown number.
Be there in five. Come down, it said, and my heart raced out of control.
I sucked in my gut, smoothened my hair and gave myself the once over. There was nothing left to do but to take the plunge. This was happening. I was going to see Nash again.
Nash stepped out of the car when I walked down the steps in front of my apartment, walking carefully in my heels. I was so afraid of falling over and making a scene. But I lost all concentration when I set my eyes on him.
Nash was standing with his hand on the door of a car so expensive I didn’t recognize the make, holding it open, and he looked more dashing than ever, if that was even possible.
In a black tuxedo and crystal cufflinks, the man looked like a million dollars. His hair was neat and styled to the side, adding a softness to his face. His eyes were a clear mysterious gray. His face looked sharp, like he was cut out of marble. He seemed even taller today for some reason, and I craned my neck up at him as I approached.
“I wasn’t sure if you were going to change your mind,” he said, and I nearly melted. That was what I had been thinking about him! But I wasn’t just going to say that.
“I’m a woman of my word,” I said, realizing that my cheeks were flushed.
“You look hot as hell,” Nash said.
I lost my voice. I intended to return the compliment but I couldn’t. The words were stuck in my throat. If I told him the truth about his good looks, everything else might come tumbling out. So, I only threw him a weak smile and stepped into the car.
The chauffeur in the front seat wished me a good evening and then a few seconds later, Nash was in the car with me. Sitting beside me. Our legs were almost touching.
His distinctive scent filled the space, and I breathed him in, wondering if I’d ever smelled anything so sensual. I wondered if I could just throw myself at him, force him to kiss me. But Nash was looking at his phone, checking something with his brows furrowed. The car started and my heart nearly collapsed from over-exertion. This was another dream come true. We were going on an actual date. The kind of evening I’d imagined in my college years, but knew would never happen. Because I wasn’t the kind of girl he was in to.
“We’re raising funds for Breast Cancer awareness. My family has been involved in the cause for the past fifteen years, since my mother passed,” Nash said, looking up at me.
“Your mother had breast cancer?” I blurted and immediately regretted it.
Nash’s face didn’t change. It remained rigid and expressionless, which always drove me nuts. I could never guess what he was thinking.
“Yes, she did. When I was in my teens,” he said and my stomach dropped.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know all those years in college,” I said, clasping my hands together on my lap. He was making it so hard for me to be mad at him. When we were alone, it was easy for me to forget what circumstances we were meeting under now.
“There were a lot of things you didn’t know about me in college, Bonnie.” Nash turned his gray eyes on me, and I looked away. I couldn’t face him. I needed a few moments to catch my breath and recuperate. His nearness was having a strange effect on me.
“And I’m sure there were a lot of things I didn’t know about you,” he added, and I managed to turn to him again. Despite what we were talking about, and even though I knew it was very inappropriate, I wanted to grab that shirt and rip it off his body. I wanted to feel his mouth on mine again, his hands on my breasts.
“We weren’t exactly friends in college,” I said.
“You could say that again.” He smiled, looking calm and natural, while I felt like I was floating away inside.
“I’m glad you agreed to join me. I wanted to show you my gratitude for giving up your company,” he said and placed his hand on my knee. The heat of his hand made me tingle from head to toe. That same hand had touched my breast. I didn’t move my leg. I wanted him, and besides, I was frozen to the spot.
“I didn’t have a choice. You had a look at our finances,” I said, gulping.
Nash’s hand remained on my knee, casually. And then he gave it a tender sympathizing squeeze. “I hope you’re not beating yourself up about it. It’s just business. It happens,” he said, staring right into my eyes. I was convinced he knew what I was thinking. That he was too close for comfort. That I wanted him to rip my clothes off. But he looked unaffected.
“I still have my brain, can’t buy that,” I said, stupidly.
Nash smiled, and I blushed. It had only been a few minutes, and I had already embarrassed myself.
“It’s your brain I’m after. Which is why I want you to come work with me,” he said, moving his hand away. I felt my nipples harden; I was growing wet just looking at him. I couldn’t stop my brain from imagining what he could do to me.
I couldn’t find my voice to answer him. His proposition was ridiculous. I could never work for him; it would be humiliating. But the thought of remaining in contact with him, seeing him every day… I had to admit it intrigued me.
The car zoomed through the city, and we had reached our destination before I could formulate any sort of answer.
Nash was quick to step out of the car, and I waited anxiously for him to come around and hold the door open.
I could barely move my limbs when I saw him with his hand extended to me, waiting for me to take it. It was sublime, like a dream; this couldn’t be happening.
Bright camera flashes blinded me the moment I stepped out. I almost stumbled in my heels, but Nash caught a hold of my hand.
“Sorry about the cameras. The event is heavily covered by paparazzi,” he said in my ear as he held me close. I clung to him, in need of support while also swaying under the dizzying effects of being so close to him. Nash’s scent was all around me; his arm felt rock solid and strong where I held him. He was leading me down a red carpet to the entrance of a grand hall.
I had never attended anything like this before. The red carpet we were walking down was lined with cameras, paparazzi and reporters on either side. Nash was a natural beside me, smiling and waving at everyone. I lingered beside him, still clinging to his arm like I was ready to fall flat on the ground. My heart was racing. I was worried about how I looked and if I was going to manage in those heels. Most of all, I couldn’t believe that I was with Nash Preston.
We walked into the ballroom, an elaborate colonial-styled room with a plush interior and crystal chandeliers. Smartly dressed men and women walked around in circles, talking in whispers in groups, while uniformed wait staff served them hors d’oeuvres from silver trays.
“Oh, my God, is that Mary Celeste?” I asked, shocked. I was like a starry-eyed school girl, looking around in awe upon being invited to a party for adults.
“It is indeed,” Nash said beside me, raising his hand to wave at the award-winning film star. I was ready to give up and call it quits. I was nervous and shy in these surroundings. So, this was the world that Nash Preston belonged to. How marvelous. We were worlds apart.
“And there’s Pat Comway,” Nash said, and waved to a man at the other end of the room. Pat Comway, Nash knew the playwright! My father would be so delighted to hear that I saw Pat Comway in person. I was giggling to myself, not quite believing my luck.
Bonnie
I stood a few steps behind Nash as he spoke to an older gentleman in a tuxedo. From the low undertones of their conversation, I could tell that they were talking business. I looked around the room instead, trying to keep my brain occupied so that it wouldn’t explode.
The gala was grand beyond words. Star-studded, celebrity-filled and more elaborate than anything I had even seen on TV. I was definitely underdressed for the occasion.
“Come with me,” Nash said suddenly and placed a hand on the small of my back. I was on alert again. His face was very close to mine as he started leading me, taking small steps, smiling around him. Everyone in the room seemed to know him. They all wanted to speak to him, but Nash was visibly
keeping his distance. Trying to avoid as many conversations as he could. He tried to wave, smile and shake hands and then walk away. Could he be behaving this way for my sake? So that I didn’t feel left out? I hadn’t known Nash Preston to have a sympathetic bone in his body.
“Where are we going?” I asked, almost laughing from my giddiness. The multitude of champagne I’d been served could possibly be going to my head. I was strangely happy. As much as I had detested this world in college, I was enjoying myself now. I had forgotten I didn’t belong here. I was happy just having my arm entwined with Nash’s.
“My best friends. I see them there,” Nash said, gesturing ahead of us. Two handsome men in equally polished tuxedos were standing in the corner of the room, sipping whiskies and laughing together.
“Best friends?” I asked, turning a confused look at Nash. I hadn’t seen these guys before.
“Do you not remember them? Casper and Vince were my frat brothers,” he said, leading me a little quicker now. Realization dawned on me. Best friends. Frat brothers. No, of course I didn’t recognize them.
The two men turned as we approached them.
“Nash!” the one with the sandy blond hair and blue eyes cried.
“Casper! How are you, man?” Nash said, embracing the guy in a bear hug.
I slunk up behind them, aware of the other man’s eyes on me. This one had dark hair like Nash’s, but his was graying at the temples. He seemed like the most serious one of the bunch.
“And who might this be?” he said, interrupting Nash and Casper’s hug.
“Vince!” Nash said and hugged him, too. “This is Bonnie.”
Vince and Casper exchanged looks, and my eyebrow arched in suspicion. No way that these frat guys recognized me when I didn’t recognize them.
“Bonnie Calhoun,” Casper said and extended his hand to me. Shocked, I shook his hand robotically.
“Do I know you?” I asked, and Vince laughed loudly.