by C. M. Lally
“Sure. Let’s go.”
Chapter 3 – Mateo
We get everything loaded in my car and get in, but before I can turn the radio on her stomach growls like a caged tiger ready to pounce. I watch her cover her stomach quickly with her forearms, but that doesn’t take away the noise that continues to erupt from her.
“I’m so sorry. Apparently, I’m hungry...or I swallowed an animal that wants out,” she laughs under her breath.
“Would you like to stop and eat somewhere? I haven’t had dinner either and could eat something.” I look in her direction with my best smile. Most women can’t resist it — except Cassee.
“No. That’s okay. I have food at home,” she blurts out, looking out the window instead of at me. Right then, she gasps loudly as we pass over the MacArthur Causeway Bridge heading towards Coconut Grove. ”It’s so pretty here. Lord, look at the size of those cruise ships. I’ve always wondered how you keep from getting bored on a big boat. Do you know?”
“No. I’ve never been on a cruise ship, but they say they have everything you’d ever need. There’s swimming, shopping, shows galore, gambling, dancing, and then they offer port excursions when you reach a city. Sounds like a lot of fun to me,” I offer up, but her gaze never leaves the water. Then right on cue, my stomach growls loudly. She finally looks at me and giggles, her smile lighting up her entire face, and my heart does that fluttery beat thing again. “I guess we’re both hungry. I need to eat. We’ll stop somewhere simple. I promise.” I don’t even give her the option of saying no. I quickly change lanes and head towards my favorite eatery, Rosa Mexicano, on South Miami.
We pull up and are lucky enough to get a spot right out front. I get out, and go to open her car door for her, but she’s already swung it open and placing one foot on the ground. I grab her dainty fingers and finish helping her to stand, feeling those arcs again as our skin touches. The ocean breeze whips a strand of her hair in front of her face, and I instinctively reach to remove it, tucking it back behind her ear. It feels like silk sliding through my fingers. She tucks her head down in shyness causing my heart to pound loud in my ears. She’s got this shyness to her that is endearing and innocent, but her boldness with the bikini earlier makes me curious to know her better.
I hold the door open for her, admiring her stride that makes those curls bounce. As she passes, the breeze picks up her perfume, completely engulfing me for a moment. I’m frozen in place, enjoying the smell of some flower that I don’t know the name of, but memories flood into my brain. She smells heavenly and I’m lost to her. I know it now, like I know my own name. My mother used to smell like flowers. I can remember sitting on her lap, nuzzling her neck as a child, smelling her for as long as she’d hold me. This is that same feeling— home, love, trust, security.
“Is everything okay?” she asks, gently touching my arm. Her eyebrows are knitted together with a look of concern on her face.
“Yes, I’m fine,” smiling back at her. “I was just admiring your perfume. It reminds me of my mother.” I look into her eyes, and they go soft with emotion leaving me to wonder if she feels pity for me or some other emotion. It can’t be pity. She doesn’t even know any of the stories to feel that for me...not yet anyway.
“Let’s grab a table before this place fills up,” I suggest, placing my hand on her lower back and guiding her to a spot in the corner with a street view. “I love this place. It’s very cozy and they have the best guacamole I’ve ever tasted.” We both grab menus and start oohing and ahhing at the great pictures on the menu placard.
She drops hers to the table, surprising me with the hard smack of the plastic. She gently folds her hands together like she’s praying, and clears her throat to gain my full attention. “I must confess. The only Mexican food I’m familiar with is Taco Bell. I’m kinda afraid to order. Is that bad?” she asks with a nervous hitch in her voice, looking up with gloriously large eyes wide with terror. I instantly reach out to console her and pat her hands, but she removes them, jutting them under the table.
“I can help you. What do you normally order at Taco Bell?” inquiring to enhance my suggestions. “This food is very similar with many of the same ingredients...it’s just more upscale and fresher. It’s not thrown together quickly and out the drive-thru window. It’s definitely a lot fresher...like homemade food where you can taste the individual ingredients. None of it is processed or from a can. I think you’ll love it more.”
“I normally just eat tacos or burritos. Is that okay if I just order that?” she asks shyly.
“Of course. Order what you like or what you think looks delicious. It should always be that simple,” I explain as she picks the menu up and looks over her choices again.
The waitress stops by and takes our drink order, also delivering an order of chips, salsa and their famous guacamole. We both dip chips into the guacamole; me digging in enthusiastically, Cassee a little more tentatively. I watch her tongue dart out and taste the guac first, and my dick gets hard as her tongue licks a little scoop of creamy, green goodness from the edge of the chip she’s holding.
“Mmmmm,” she groans, swallowing that small lick and the rest of the remaining chip. She instantly grabs another chip from the basket, dips it deep into the guac and heartily munches away, doing a little dance in her seat. She’s smiling and humming as she chews and swallows. It’s endearing to watch her eat, knowing she’s happy.
“So, tell me more of where you’re from?” I interrupt her chewing, hoping to keep the conversation focused on getting to know her.
“Well, there isn’t much to tell. It’s definitely a small town. I didn’t interact with too many people. I worked with my gramma, who was also a seamstress. We mostly did alterations for general clothing and wedding dresses, but she owned the business and there was always something to fix. She taught me how to sew, so I would sew the scraps together to create my outfits. I don’t draw well, which was my worst class in college, but I always excelled at design presentation. Gramma taught me tight stitches and lots of hidden stitches. Trade secrets she used to call them.”
“So do you design your own clothes that you wear, or do you keep it simple and buy off the rack for convenience sake?” She has a peach linen skirt on with a cream-colored tank top and matching linen over shirt that’s tied into a knot at her slim waist. I’ve been trying to tell if she sewed them herself, but can’t.
“This outfit was a gift card purchase,” she admits, ducking her head again in either shyness or embarrassment. I can’t quite figure it out yet. “I guess my closet is a mix of both. Shopping gives me inspiration. I look around and see what could be improved on, or simply changed with different materials. My specialty is unmentionables...umm, you might know it as lingerie.”
“I know both terms,” I advise, giving her a small wink.
Our waitress comes back and takes our order. I’m completely surprised when she orders a chicken quesadilla with Pico de Gallo. I order the steak fajitas, mainly because I love to hear them sizzle on the plate when they are delivered, but they are absolutely delicious here. The restaurant is starting to fill up in the mid-evening dinner rush hour. I notice Cassee taking a very good look around the restaurant and smiling the whole time. She must be enjoying the view very much, but I secretly hope she’s enjoying the company. I know I am.
“So, Cassee. I just had a great idea run through my mind,” I blurt out, desperately trying to slow my thoughts and tongue down so I don’t sound like an idiot. “We are renovating all three bars at the club and will have a re-opening party when they’re completed. It’s on my mental agenda to ask the dance managers to put together a few new shows for that week. Do you think you’d have time to design some new ‘unmentionables’ for the renovation debut?”
“Oh my gosh, I would love to do that! When is it?” She asks, practically dancing in her seat again. Those big, denim blue eyes are bulging out and shining with excitement. She’s so animated when she’s happy. I love enthusiasm. It’s contagiou
s, and puts a huge smile on my face.
“We are expecting it all to be completed by the beginning of August, so within the next three weeks. Is that too short of a time frame?” I ask, hoping and praying she says no. I’m practically boring a hole into her eyes, begging for a positive response.
“Oh, gosh no. That’s plenty of time,” responding with her southern charm, and waving her hand in the air, like she’s swiping at something invisible.
“Great! We’ll discuss it with Lindy in a few days, once I’ve actually spoken to her about it, and we’ll go from there. She nods her head and pops another guacamole-heaped chip into her mouth right as the waitress brings our food. The sizzle of the steak fajitas causes Cassee’s eyes to become as round as saucers. The steam wafts around us when the plate is sat down in front of me, and my mouth waters. Cassee inhales a deep breath too, smelling our food and declaring that it smells wonderful.
“Wow. Just look at that quesadilla. It’s stuffed full of chicken...like a chicken pillow. I don’t know if I can eat all of that in one sitting, but I’m certainly gonna try,” she laughs out loud in that tinkling voice of hers. I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of hearing that. She picks up a piece of her chicken pillow, and the cheese oozes leaving one big long string of cheese hanging. Breaking it off from the other pieces, she twines it up into the air, letting it drop right into her open, waiting mouth. The look on my face must be priceless, because her cheeks blush and she apologizes immediately. My dick’s gonna slice a hole in my pants if I so much as move an inch after watching that.
“I’m so sorry. I’m so hungry; I forgot to use my manners. That wasn’t very lady-like,” she admits.
“No, absolutely do not apologize for enjoying your food. I won’t hear of it. I consider myself a bona-fide foodie. And besides, Mexican food is meant to be eaten with your hands,” I demonstrate, folding the steak and peppers into the tortilla and taking the largest bite I can manage into my mouth. Growling as I bite down, she laughs again, and continues eating her own meal with gusto after my embarrassing display.
I notice, for once, that I’m very comfortable with her. Maybe it’s because she’s so genuine. Maybe it’s because we aren’t really on a date. I’ve been told by my brothers, that I want love too badly. I go overkill on my dates, and scare women off. They love to flirt with me, but back-off when they find out I’m not a one-and-done kinda guy.
Yeah, I know. It sounds crazy. Don’t get me wrong, I’m just as jaded as my brothers. The sex part of our job and women’s bodies is really boring to me. Love seems to be a magical unicorn that only exists in fairy tales, but lust is a flashing neon sign in my life. I cater to it. I even cheer it on, but that doesn’t mean I’m still not secretly rooting to find love. The longer I go without it though, the more convinced I am it doesn’t exist.
Chapter 4 – Cassee
“Please don’t pay for my dinner,” I beg. “It’s not right.” I cross my arms and give him my best ‘I’ll be very upset’ face. I even tap my foot to emphasize my point. He shrugs his shoulders and continues to walk to the register by the front door. Outta spite, I pick up the money that he left as a tip, and throw my own money down. Two can play this game. I’ll just leave his money in his car to find later. Ha!
I walk past him at the register, and head straight outside to stand by the car. I block the car door so he can’t open it for me either. This was not a date, and I won’t let him pay for my meal. He’s my boss now. It’s just not right. He’s about to meet stubborn as a mule Cassee and I can hold a grudge for a long time Cassee.
He strides out the door like he doesn’t have a care in the world; smiling, whistling, and twirling his key ring around his fingers. He presses the door open button on the key fob and that little whoop whoop noise blares out and the lights flash. He swings his door open and slides right into the driver’s seat, patiently waiting for me to join him. After a few moments, I give up and open the door, plopping my butt down in the seat and stuffing my bag between my legs on the floor. He raises his right eyebrow at me in question, and smirks at me knowingly. He’s the sexiest man I’ve ever seen.
“You are completely adorable when you’re pouting,” he says chuckling under his breath. “Just know that when I want something, I take it. I wanted to eat. I was also in charge by driving, so it was my decision to take you out and by default— pay. If you want to pay next time, then you need to suggest that we eat and take me out.”
“This was not a date,” I huff, and stare him down daring him to remark that it was.
“No. It wasn’t. It was a ‘get to know your new employee’ meal,” he replies, giving me as hard of a stare as I am him. I guess there will be no winner in this game. I blink and look away to the patio on the other side of the street.
Without looking at him, I sass him back, “And I suppose you’ve broken bread with all of your employees?” He’s got me so off-kilter being this close to him he’s pulling more of my stubborn streak out of me. We exit out of the parking space and he starts fiddling with the radio.
“As a matter-of-fact I have. We had a grand opening party with a shit ton of food for them before we let the patrons in. I’ve either eaten or drank with every one of them. So there, put that in your pipe and smoke it.” He tunes into a classic rock station blaring out the Lenny Kravitz version of ‘American Woman’, and throws a smug smile my way.
We drive in silence for a few moments until the sheer absurdity of this song makes me laugh out loud again. “You know, this song isn’t actually about the “American Woman” and her attitude,” I say, throwing up air quotes as I speak.
“Maybe not, but its words certainly speak volumes about yours tonight,” he counters, and my mouth drops open speechless. Just then he pulls into the drive of the condo complex and all I can do is point to my building.
I can’t believe he just said that. He may be hot as hell, but he’s an ass of the biggest proportion. I throw open my door and march to the trunk, impatiently waiting for him to open it to grab the box of clothing and props. I’ve already said I’d take the job. I’ll fix these things and then quit on his ass. He’s officially getting the silent treatment from now on. Humph! I’m pissed.
We carry the boxes into my living room and I simply point to the floor where he should place his box, and drop mine on top of it. I’m not going to speak to him. Hell fire will come out of my mouth if I do. He’ll get an ass-blistering of words that he won’t see coming. I turn and walk back to open the door for him to leave. I can feel his body heat behind me, like a really hot shadow. I turn the knob and open the door slightly when his hand pushes it closed.
“We’re gonna settle this before I leave,” he advises, tilting my face up and looking directly into my eyes.
“Oh, no we’re...” he slides his hands around my neck and cradles my face cutting off my words, searching my eyes for any indecision before leaning in to press his lips to mine. They are hot and hungry against mine; turning me on instead of repulsing me. We fall back against the door, and he locks me into his arms, holding me to him. My pussy dampens as his hands caress my lower back. The thought of pushing him away never crosses my mind as his lips press harder into mine. If anything, I want to pull him closer. I open to him effortlessly giving him full access. Our tongues touch tentatively, and a small whimper escapes my throat. Good god he’s delicious. My arms instinctively reach up and embrace his shoulders, holding on as our kiss deepens. I’m practically climbing up him to get closer.
He sucks my lower lip into his mouth and releases it gently, pulling away from me to look into my eyes. “I’m sorry I was an ass in the car. You’re rejection of my paying for dinner hurt...like you didn’t enjoy being there with me. Maybe I’m being overly sensitive, but it still hurt all the same. I also know I’m not supposed to want an employee, but I understand you won’t be here much longer and,” he pants breathlessly between little nips of kisses to my face. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. You’re funny and smart, you
’re ambitious and you don’t back down from a challenge. I’ve actually never met anyone like you before. You’re exciting. I need more of you for the little bit of time we have together. Please say yes to more?”
I can’t even fathom what ‘more’ means to him, but if it’s more of what’s happening now, then YES! Now is my opportunity to start that promise to myself— live and experience life as it comes at me. I may have been sheltered due to socioeconomic factors when I was younger and focused so hard in college I had no friends, but I have no excuses anymore. I’m gonna make new memories to wipe out my past regrets.
“Yes,” I whisper and jump onto him, wrapping my legs around his waist and pulling myself in for another breathless kiss. His fingers tangle in my hair as he pulls it back tightly, giving him access to trail kisses down my long neck. Halfway down, I feel his tongue slide the rest of the way to the divot at the base of my throat. I shudder, as the air conditioning chills that long wet streak across my skin.
“Are you cold?” he asks huskily, rubbing my arms to warm me.
“No,” I giggle, “that was just sexy as hell.”
“That giggle is sexy as hell,” he growls, walking with me wrapped around him and tossing me down on the sectional couch. I slide backwards propping myself up on my elbows and watch him pull his shirt over his head. The muscles on his arms and shoulders are popping and bulging. His abs are flat and billowy, like little tufts of pillows. I’m instantly wet for him now. He’s well tanned with a dusting of dark hair across his chest. I wanna run my tongue over the grooves of his stomach muscles, dipping in every line and curve.
“See something you like?” he winks naughtily at me. His smile is so wide, his dimple creases and my clit throbs, soaking my panties. I can smell my arousal, and see his through his pants. Good God, Almighty! I reach across to the coffee table and knock the picture of my grandparents face down so they can’t watch me sin, because I’m definitely about to.