by Lainey Davis
Twenty
TIM
I don’t want to move. I’m holding perfection here in my arms, in my bed. I’ve never brought a woman to my apartment before, never wanted to stick around after I’ve fucked someone. But I don’t ever want Alice to leave my bed and I can barely wait to be inside her again, to move with her and give her pleasure. I know that I’ve completely unraveled for this woman. All my rules are broken. All my composure is gone and somehow, with my fingers twined through her mad hair and my body pressed against her soft curves, I just don’t care.
Alice has fallen asleep in my arms and it feels so right. After awhile, I hear her phone chirping inside her purse on my dresser. Some sort of persistent alarm grows louder, and I don’t want it to wake her. I slip out of the bed to reach for it. The words “Little blue boys!” flash across her lock screen as the tinkling bells keep chiming. I figure she must have planned to tuck her nephews in or something, so I turn it off and climb back into the bed beside her.
As I wrap my naked body against hers, she stirs. I love the tiny noises she makes, the contented sighs as she wakes. I grow hard as Alice wiggles her bottom. Time for round two, I decide. “Hey, you,” Alice says when I start kissing her shoulder. I let my hand fall to her breast and am rewarded with a soft moan as I massage her nipple. “How long was I asleep?”
“Just a few minutes,” I tell her, continuing my exploration of her creamy skin. She turns her head to kiss me and I’m lost to her. I pull her close against my body, the swell of her ass against my cock. She lifts one leg a bit to give me access to her center, and I slide home. We fit together so perfectly. “Alice,” I whisper. “You’re so wet. You feel so good.”
“Mmmm.” She groans into my mouth, moving with me. I know I’m not going to last long. This feels too intense. I drop a hand to her clit and, using the pads of two fingers, find the rhythm that will drive Alice over the cliff. She moves with me, thrusting her hips against my hand.
I’m so close to losing control, but I need Alice to come first. “Now, baby. Let go!” And she does, moaning and thrusting until I can’t help but join her. I tumble over the edge. My cock swells inside her and I feel my balls tighten. “Alice! Fuck! Yes!” She feels so good. I want to hold on to this moment, of watching and feeling Alice Peterson come, and then joining her in ecstasy. My breath comes ragged and heavy as I pull her tighter against me.
We must have fallen asleep this way, because the next thing I know, I’m being awakened by Alice kissing my chest. I’m on my back and she’s straddling me, her hair tickling my skin as she traces a line of kisses down my stomach. “This is probably the hottest sight I’ve ever seen,” I tell her. She looks up at me, violet eyes twinkling in the streetlight sneaking through the closed blinds. I’ve never gone three rounds in one evening before, but Alice makes everything easier.
Afterward, she’s like putty, molded against my body, boneless. “I don’t think I can go home like this,” she says, a hint of worry in her voice.
“You’re not going anywhere, Alice,” I assure her, pulling my arms around her. “We’re going to sleep now, and after I wake up beside you, I want to have you again in the shower.”
"Mm I like the sound of that," she says, her voice soft as she drifts to sleep.
Some hours later, we wake tangled together in my bed and the sun shines across Alice's golden, wild hair. I pepper her with kisses and carry her into the bathroom, turning on the shower.
When I redid my apartment, I installed an infinity shower with no door. I typically use the seat in the corner as a shelf for a cold beer after a punishing run, but today I get up close and personal kneeling on the subway tile as I lick every inch of Alice, perched on her throne in my bathroom. She tastes like a ripe peach, swollen and slick with wanting. As she cries out in pleasure again and again, I almost cum without even being touched. We stay in the shower until the water turns cold, and then I envelope her in one of my Turkish bath sheets. The thin cotton towel is big enough for us both, and I like the feel of being cocooned against her.
“This has been the best date, Tim,” she says. And she sighs. “But I really have to get home.” She kisses my cheek, and rubs the thick scruff that’s grown to mountain-man lengths since I last shaved. “Next time, I want to shave you before…” She blushes and looks down.
I notice the red, irritated skin at the tops of her thighs. “Oh shit, Alice! God, I’m so sorry.”
“It was worth it, Tim,” she says. “I like how you look with some scruff. I’ve just got really sensitive skin. You should see me after I work with habaneros!” Alice talks to me about her tricks for avoiding contact with hot peppers as I hand her a spare toothbrush from the closet and help her find a pair of shorts that won’t fall down.
“Those look like pants on you,” I joke. “Unfortunately I don’t have any shoes that will come close to fitting…”
Alice stuffs her purse, dress, and shoes into a grocery bag and pulls my arm, walking barefoot to the elevator. I offer to carry her so she doesn’t cut her foot, and again when we pull up in front of her house, but she declines. "What am I going to cut my foot on, Tim?"
I don't have an answer right away, but I can't shake my worry that she'll get tetanus or something.
Her brother is out front again tossing a ball around with Alice’s nephews. He gives me the stinkeye when I get out to open Alice’s door, but she doesn’t seem to notice. She kisses me softly and says, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I stand and watch as her nephews crash into her for a hug, asking where she’s been. She looks so happy here, surrounded by this family. They’re all tied up in each other’s business, but I can see how much love lives in this house. My apartment, sterile and white, feels very empty in comparison once I get home.
Twenty-One
ALICE
T he next few weeks fly by in a haze. I spend every weekend with Tim, either screwing like rabbits at his house or else eating family dinners at mine. As he dropped me off one morning, my nephews insisted he join us for breakfast. I was surprised that he did, sinking into the couch afterward with my dad and brothers, watching the baseball game on television.
At work, I keep worrying that everyone will be able to tell there’s more going on between us, but as per usual, the pace is so hectic we are barely in the same room as one another. I’m pretty sure Juniper caught him kiss me one day when he stopped in for an afternoon snack, but she hasn’t said anything.
I’m finishing an inventory order in my office, looking over the schedule for the next week, when my desk phone rings. “Alice Peterson,” I say, not looking at the caller ID.
“What are you wearing?” It’s Tim. I blush.
“Well, I’m at work, so I’m wearing my chef whites and clogs,” I say. “What’s up?”
“I’ve got a big request for you. I’m scheduling an all-day meeting with the Cavs’ players union and I’d like to keep them happily well-fed.”
“The Cavs? Like from Cleveland? Do we get people from far away like that?”
He laughs. “Well, I certainly hope so, Alice. Stag Law is building quite a reputation. Can you have something together for Monday?”
“Monday?? Tim, it’s Friday afternoon. I wish you’d given me more notice!” I start to panic, looking at the clock and wondering how I’ll manage to place orders in time.
“Stay at my place this weekend. I’ll help you work on it.” His voice is smooth, but it doesn’t quite sound like a question.
I sigh. “How many people will there be?” We review the details and I’ve barely hung up the phone before I start poring over menu ideas.
I start organizing my ingredients lists by the different markets I’ll have to visit on the weekend. Most likely, I will stay with Tim this weekend, just to have easy access to the vendors in the produce terminal. I’m finishing my notes on a pesto for tortellini--must make a trip to the Italian market for fresh pasta--when my cell rings. “Shit. Amy, what time is it?”
“Alice, it’
s 7 at night! Where the hell are you?” My sister is hopping mad. I was supposed to watch the boys for her tonight so she could go on a date.
“Oh god, Amy, I am so sorry. I’m still at work.” I sweep everything into my bag and start running toward the elevator. “Is Dan home? When do you need to leave?” It’ll be a half hour or more until I can get home. I remember that I took the bus today. “Shit, Amy, I don’t have my car at work.”
“Dan was supposed to go out tonight, he says.” I can hear my brother complaining in the background.
“Ok, but he’s home? Tell him to chill out for an hour and I’ll be there as soon as I can.” I start to jam the elevator buttons. Of course, today it’s taking forever. Of course, our office is on the top floor of huge skyscraper.
“What’s wrong, Alice?” Tim slips up behind me. I didn’t even realize he would still be here. I turn around and quickly blurt out the whole scenario. The elevator finally arrives and I sprint inside, but he calmly follows and pulls out his phone. “I’ll have my driver take us to your house,” he says. “I’ll hang out with your nephews while you pack for your weekend at my apartment.” He grins, still not flustered.
“You’re going to come with me to babysit my nephews?” I raise an eyebrow at him. He’s such a renaissance man. Negotiating contracts with professional sports executives one minute and chasing preschoolers around the next. He nods.
“The town car is downstairs waiting for us.” He leans in to kiss me, and I forget about the stress of the last few hours, forget that he’s the source of the stress. “Tell me what you’re working on,” he whispers. “I love to hear you talk about food.”
He starts to kiss my neck and I lean against the elevator wall. “Well,” I say. “Mmm, that feels good. I’m going to make scones for the morning. Lemon...of course...Tim!” He bites my neck and presses me against the elevator wall.
The door slides open and he stands back, straightening his collar. I’m too flustered to walk, and he grabs my hand. “You were saying...lemon donuts?” He opens the door to the Town Car and I climb inside.
“You think donuts?”
He nods. “I don’t think this is the tea and scones crowd, babe.”
By the time we pull up to my house, we’ve tweaked the menu into something masculine enough for Tim’s standards--basically various cubes of meat served at regular intervals throughout the day. My brother pulls the door open as we hit the porch and he storms out. “At least one of us is getting some. I was supposed to be at the bar an hour ago, Al, and you waltz in here late because you’re out messing around with your damn boyfriend?”
“Dan, I was working late and lost track of time and--”
He scoffs at me and shakes his head. “Sure. Working. Save it, Alice.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean, Dan?” But he’s already in his car peeling out down the street. My nephews walk out onto the porch as I stand there, shaken up.
“Aunt Alice, what’s a boyfriend?” Elijah hands me a jar of bubbles, and I open it, squatting beside him to help him with the wand.
“Well, it’s…” I’m not sure what to say.
Tim squats down next to us. “It’s me, buddy. I’m your Aunt Alice’s friend, and I’m a boy, but I also like to kiss her.” He ruffles my nephew’s hair.
“My mom says you’re Aunt Alice’s boss at work, though. Can you have a boyfriend at work?” Eli’s eyes are big, and he pauses to blow a series of bubbles into the humid July evening.
“Well, I guess you’re not really supposed to,” Tim says. “But your Aunt Alice is just so awesome, I really wasn’t happy until I was her boss and her boyfriend.”
This seems to make sense to Eli, who scampers inside, but my brother’s angry insinuation has left me uneasy. This is the main problem with my involvement with Tim Stag. He’s my boss. Will anyone ever believe my achievements are earned? Tim leans in to kiss the top of my head, then helps me to my feet.
I head off to my room to change and pack for the weekend. When I come back to the living room, my heart melts to see Tim engrossed in a game of Jenga on our dining room table. My nephews egg him on as he slowly wiggles out a precarious brick and the three of them high-five when he successfully places it on top of the stack. I lean against the banister, just watching. He folds into my family so seamlessly. Maybe I should look for another job, I think, but I know I’ll never find a position that gives me the same creative freedom and independence as this one. This is my dream job, and I know I’ll never give it up without a fight.
My phone alarm sounds, my reminder to take my birth control pill. I walk to the kitchen for a glass of water and kiss each of my men as I pass. I won’t give any of them up without a fight, either.
Twenty-Two
TIM
H aving Alice with me the entire weekend has been like a dream, a movie about someone else’s happy life. I feel like I’m an entirely different person when I can fall asleep beside her, then wake up wanting her just as badly. She has no background in law, but listened to me when I talked about our strategy for wooing the Cavs to sign with us.
Bringing on a big client from Cleveland will mean travel and long hours, but our firm feels ready for growth. Alice is part of that. I know we haven’t known each other long, but something just clicks with her. I might have met someone I can really trust.
Sunday night Alice tells me she’s going to make the donuts at my apartment so they’re ready for the early meeting. I try to manage my discomfort at the huge mess she’s made of the kitchen. “Just stay in the bedroom,” she tells me as she weighs flour on a scale on my formerly-pristine table.
I’m pretty sure I don't own half the gadgets she keeps pulling out, and frankly I’m fascinated by this process. “I didn’t know donuts were something you could just make at home,” I say, wringing my hands so I don’t reach for the eggshells she’s left on the counter.
“Tim, you know I’m going to clean this when I’m done. You know this. You’re making me nervous.” She’s got a streak of flour on her nose. She’s baking in one of my t-shirts and, from the looks of things, nothing else. Even with the AC cranked, the kitchen is scorching with the oil heating on the stove. I catch a glimpse of Alice’s ass as she turns to grab a set of tongs, and I suddenly care less about the mess.
“How much longer will this take?” I step behind her, not wanting to get in her way, but making sure she can feel my intentions.
Alice is a stone cold pro, though, and barely responds. “Half hour. Then clean up. Go on, scoot.”
I don’t want to miss my chance to see her ass again, so I pull up the presentation outline and read it at the counter while she finishes. The second I see her turn off the stove, brushing her hair back from her forehead, I tackle her to the kitchen floor. “I love the way you sound when you squeak,” I say, reaching up under the t-shirt.
“I do not squeak,” she says, indignantly. “Mm, that feels good. But I thought you wanted me to clean up this mess?”
“I found something I want even more,” I tell her. “We’ll clean it up together in a few minutes.”
In the morning, Alice doesn’t look well. Her eyes have dark circles underneath and she moves sluggishly as she gets ready. “Hey,” I say, rubbing her shoulders. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” She shakes her head, tells me she didn’t sleep well. I chalk it up to nerves and overexertion. "Take tomorrow off, babe. Comp day."
She doesn't respond, though, slowly walking through the motions of packing everything up.
We get ready together, and I think about how easily she fits into my routine. She showers while I shave. We dance around each other to access the mirror and brush our teeth. It feels like home with her instead of just a place to live. When we’re ready to go, Alice has boxed up the food and tries to balance it with her duffel bag from the weekend. “Babe,” I tell her, “don’t take that huge bag to work. Come on, we’ll get it at the end of the day, ok?”
She nods and lets it drop. She really doesn’t look gre
at, but I’ve never seen her game face before. I figure she might just be focused. We don’t talk much in the town car on the way to work, and I peck her cheek after depositing the cardboard boxes for her in the kitchen.
Right on time, the suits from the Cavs enter the lobby of Stag Law, and I hear Donna greet them. I straighten my tie in the mirror. This is it. Time to win a new client, and Tim Stag doesn’t lose.
Donna opens the door and I walk confidently toward the six men. “Stag,” they say pumping my hand. “Nice place you got here.”
“We do our best, Steve. If you could just follow Donna to the conference room we can get started.”
Alice must have come in advance to set everything up. She’s brought several types of donuts and coffee, procured a fruit tray, and made little dishes of yogurt with granola. Juniper Jones and another of my associates rise to greet our guests. I turn the floor over to Juniper, and I can already tell we’ve got them eating from our hands. Literally.
Juniper spends the next two hours guiding the conversation. She has read up on this franchise, knows the ins and outs of the players union, and is absolutely flawless describing our strengths representing professional athletes across different sports.
Steve glances over to me at one point, reading some documents, and I jump in, saying, “We represent our athletes through all legal aspects of their careers, from endorsement contracts to workers comp litigation...and we’ve got a fantastic record when it comes to exploring the morality clause in their contracts.”
He laughs and throws the papers back on the table. “In other words, you can make the hookers and blow disappear when you need to.” I shrug. We are in, I think, but I can’t let that show.
The door opens and Alice comes in with lunch. Perfect timing. She sets out the salad and fresh pasta. I can smell the basil and lemon--always lemon with her food--from across the room. I meet her eyes with a smile, but my face quickly falls. Alice looks ashen. She reaches for a pitcher of cucumber water from the cart, and I see her falter.