by Eva Sloan
Chapter 15
I was dripping wet with a towel around my head and one around the rest of me. It was seven minutes later, so I was so grateful that I heard knocking on my door. Bess was early -- must’ve used her magic powers.
“Thank god you’re here!” I said as I swung open my front door. And there stood Dean, a wicked smile on his face, hot flames of lust burning behind his melted chocolate eyes.
I pulled the towel around me tighter and pulled my legs together at the knees. “You’re early.”
“And you’re naked and wet ... are you my door prize?” He stepped into my apartment and pulled me into one of his intoxicating kisses. I thought he was going to just start making love to me right there by the coat rack, but then he let me go and walked toward the kitchen.
“I’ve got Chinese. Go put a robe on or we’ll never eat.”
I had the robe from my day of beauty at Elizabeth Arden. Mother to the rescue again. I stripped off the wet towel from around my body and snuggled into the warm thick terrycloth. I ran a quick comb though my hair and contemplated trying to do my makeup myself, but he’d already seen me without it. In fact, he’d probably seen me looking pretty bad at least three times. Recent memories of morning bed head and streaked mascara had to make me look pretty appealing right now.
I padded into the living room just as the phone rang. It was Bess.
“I got stuck in fucking traffic. I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”
“He’s already here.” I whispered into the phone. “I don’t think I’ll need makeup tonight. He practically molested me when he walked in the door .”
“Fabulous! I’ll expect all the steamy details in the morning ... go fuck him senseless.”
Click.
I strolled into the kitchen and found my countertop covered with a virtual buffet of Chinese cuisine: sweet and sour pork, General Pso’s chicken, pineapple chicken, Szechwan beef, fried rice, shrimp and egg rolls, and pot stickers.
I chewed on a pot sticker as I filled my plate. We ate sitting on a couple stools at the counter. He told me about a new bone replacement that was made of graphite. It was lighter and more durable than steel rods, and it was molded into a rather convincing bone shape.
When he asked me about my day I suddenly wished I’d worked that day. A good story about the cocktail waitress with the boob job would’ve been great right about then.
“I forgot I had a lunch date with my Mother, so she showed up just as you left.”
“The great looking dame in the suit?”
“That’s her.”
Dean looked embarrassed. “I think she was undressing me with her eyes. Felt like I should be wearing led lined underwear.”
“That wouldn’t help you with her.” I laughed and traced my toe up the side of Dean’s calf. “She knew you were a doctor on sight.”
“Oh? Anything else she knew just by looking at me.” He ran his hand up my bare thigh and partially up inside my robe.
“Just that you were a surgeon ... and,” I smiled mischievously. “And that you had a great ass. But she could have divined that just by looking at you.”
His other hand slid up my other thigh. “I must be awfully hot if my girlfriend and her Mother have the hots for me.”
He called me his “girlfriend.” I was suddenly flabbergasted. I tried to keep my attention on my plate of delicious Chinese food, but I just couldn’t keep my eyes off him ... and I had a goofy smile spreading across my lips.
“What’s that smile for?” He traced his finger down the line of my jaw and curled it lightly up under my chin.
“Girlfriend?” My voice was practically dripping with excitement. If I were watching this scene on Lifetime television I’d be ready to hurl the remote at the TV. But in the moment I just couldn’t help myself.
“Well, you are.” He kissed me and sent shivers of want and nervousness all through my body.
Dean took my plate from my hands before I dropped it, then he leaned closer and pulled open my robe, kissing my lips ever so lightly as his hands glided like a feather over my breasts and down over my ribs, settling on my hips.
He scooped me up off the stool and planted me on the counter, my butt pushing the assorted cartons of food back. I helped him pull his shirt up over his head, letting my hands play down his ribs then smooth back up over his sternum and over his hard, bulging pecks.
He took my left nipple in his mouth as he fumbled with his belt, tearing recklessly at the buckle, and then almost ripping his kakis open. I reached down and felt his length fill my hand. He gasped as I gripped then stroked his tumescent cock.
“Condoms are in the bedroom, smart guy.” I flicked at his earlobe with my tongue.
He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a strip of three Trojans, his smile steeped in lust.
“Were you a boy scout?” I plucked the foil wrappers from his fingers, tore open the first one, then slowly rolled the latex sheath over the tip and up the thick girth of his pulsing manhood, making him groan harder and deeper as each inch of him got stroked and wrapped.
He surged into me, his hands gripping and grasping at my ass, pulling me to him as he pushed into me as deep as he could. I wrapped my legs around him, digging my nails into his shoulders as he thrust himself into me. He was licking and sucking at my neck when I splayed my hands through his hair, messing it up. I bit his ear.
The feel of his rock hard ass pumping away made my legs cinch around him all the tighter. I reached down between us and fingered his balls, which made Dean jerk as he thrust into me.
“Better watch that,” he panted as I juggled his beefy testicles. “You’re going to make me come before I’m ready. And I have a hell of a lot of plans for tonight.”
I purred as I let go of him and leaned back, my hands clasping now about his neck. “I’m all yours.”
*****
Dean woke me up the next morning with a kiss -- he’d brushed his teeth, cheater! -- and a steaming cup of black coffee, just like I take it. And he was dressed! Which thwarted my plan of seducing him before I had to get ready for work. He kissed me again, sitting on the bed beside me, pulling my naked body to him as he lavished me with a seriously intoxicating lip-lock.
But he was all tease as he pulled away and backed out the door to my room, not taking his eyes from me until the very last moment.
I stretched my arms out and luxuriated in my new six hundred count sheets. Dean popped his head back in, “By the way, those are some great sheets.”
I raised my eyebrows and smiled at him. His eyes flickered with heat and lust, but he shook it off and left again.
I rolled over and looked at my alarm clock. I had another hour before I absolutely had to get up and get showered. So I lazily set my clock and dosed back to sleep.
*****
I had a chilled, sweating bottle of Evian in my hand. I went to the window to water Ozzie and Harriet ... but they were gone. Not their pots, just the plants -- what was left inside the pots was a pit in the soil where they had been. On the floor there was clumps of dirt that led me to the bathroom, and there not a foot away from the toilet bowl were the brown withered corpses of Ozzie and Harriet. They had died trying to make it to the restoring oasis waters of my toilet bowl, yet failed, their dried-up, shriveled fronds touching, symbolically holding hands as they croaked.
I sat up bolt upright in the bed. Oh my god, I’ve killed them!
I ran naked out into my living room to find the window bare, of Ozzie and Harriet and their pots. I stood there shaking my head, my head still fogged by sleep. Then it hit me, they were being tended to at Gus’
Duh!
Suddenly I noticed there was a man with a pair of binoculars staring at me from the window across the street. At first I didn’t realize I was standing tits to the wind, but as he pressed closer to his window, fingers fiddling with the controls to get a better look, it hit me. I flung myself against the wall to the right of the window. If I ran to my bedroom the peeping Tom would get a great view
of my ass! And I would be damned if he was going to get that image to go with the front view he already had!
I looked around me. There was a doily on the table with the lamp on it. There was a wool hat under a chair. Then I saw my salvation lying in front of the chair: a throw rug.
I scooped it off the floor and wrapped it around myself, holding it closed around me with one hand and testing where it came down to -- luckily covering my ass fully. I walked out into the swath of sun light the window created, turned around and flicked the still peeping Tom off, then sashayed back to my bedroom.
From now on I’d have to remember about the sick-o across the street. As I padded into my bedroom I wondered if there was another peeping Tom for the back of the apartment. That gave me the alarming thought, What if there’s a peeping Tom poised with binoculars across the street from every window in town?
I wore the throw rug all the way over to my closet where I picked out a green pair of scrubs, to my chest of drawers to retrieve panties and a bra, and then to my bathroom to take a hasty shower. I needed to pick up Ozzie and Harriet from Gus’ before work. I wasn’t sure he’d even be open after work.
*****
Twenty minutes later I was in luck. Gus’s had its open sign in the window. I traipsed in, distracted, not paying attention to what was around me. When my eyes looked up from the enormous soft pretzels I’d bought on the corner for me and Gus -- a thank you for helping me back to my apartment two days before, I found myself looking at the two nicest pairs of bare shoulders I’d seen in a while. Gus was wearing a green tank top and a backwards ball cap.
I kind of liked the change in wardrobe. Maybe he had decided to start advertising for a boyfriend. I cleared my throat to let him know I was there. But when he turned around I got a hell of a shock.
He was a woman.
The same height as Gus, same build -- except for the two admirably large breasts that loomed braless through the worn fabric of the tank top. She even looked like Gus in a way.
“Can I help you?” Her voice was silvery and sweet, not matching her rather beefy physique.
“I-I was ... I’m looking for Gus.”
“Gus not here.” His expression impassive. “I’m his sister. What can I help you with?”
“Is he out?” I asked, looking around nervously.
“That’s what I said. Now what do you want?” Her tone bit into me as she placed her hands on her hips, glowering at me.
“Um ... I’m Lucy, and Gus was doctoring a couple of my plants for me. I don’t see them out here.”
Her glower faded to disinterest. “A violet and a spider plant?”
“Yes, that’s them.”
She motioned for me to follow her into the back. “I’m Gina, by the way. Gus set them under some hydroponics lamps, that and good water usually fixes any problem.”
When we turned the corner there sat Ozzie and Harriet ... but they were a good inch or taller, and every frond was thicker and a brilliant green. “They look great.”
“Gus knows his potted plants.” She looked me over, her arms crossed over her substantial chest. “He must really like you.”
“Huh?”
“I mean, he told me not to even charge you. That’s not like my brother. So who are you?”
I laughed at the way she said it ... had she no idea about her own brother?
“He’s just taking pity on me. I’m hopeless when it comes to plants.”
“Ah-huh ...” she sounded unconvinced. But I didn’t care. I was just happy Ozzie and Harriet were thriving.
I took my plants and she followed me out to the front of the store. I turned before I got to the front door. “So will he be back later today? I just want to thank him.”
Gina still had that impassive look on her face. “I’ll tell him. Bye.”
It stung how she just dismissed me. And it bugged me that I couldn’t get any information out her. I really wanted to thank Gus in person. I left with my tail between my legs, but at least my plants looked good as new ... better even.
*****
At work I stowed Ozzie and Harriet in my locker ... for about three minutes. I couldn’t just leave them in that tiny, dark metal sweatbox. So I positioned them on the wide faux marble window ledge, right by the tread mills.
What I noticed first was Nicole and her accountant giving each other the eye. Five minutes later they were strolling out of the room, his arm around her waist, her hand on his ass. I was impressed with how flagrant and open they were being ... even if it was in the workplace. Lust was lust.
I was happy for them.
I was happy for myself.
Just a couple of weeks ago I’d be boiling over with jealousy. Heck, I might’ve been tempted to try talking Nicole into dumping her moon-eyed geek. But now just looking at them warmed my heart ... made me think about when I could get my hands on Dean’s ass?
The hour Nicole was gone went by in a barrage of replaced hips and one professional football player with an injured thumb. I didn’t follow sports, but the guys filled me in on how important this guy -- and his thumb -- was to the team.
“He’s the freaking quarterback, for god’s sake.” mumbled Ricky.
“And we need him back in three weeks for the play-offs.” Chimed in Denny.
“If it’s so important to you guys,” I said, “Maybe one of you should work on him. You’d have way more to talk to him about than I would.”
My three male coworkers all declined. “You’re better with digital manipulation.” Lance drawled.
“Nice try,” I chirped handing him the ball player’s chart. “Now tell me the real reason.”
Lance paled and pushed the chart back at me. That’s when his fellow males surrounded me and let me in on their group psychoses.
“Truth is,” Roger spoke in a whisper. “We don’t want the pressure.”
“Pressure?”
“You know, if he doesn’t get better by pay-offs --”
“Or at all.” Cut in Lance with a gulp.
All three men crossed themselves, closing their eyes and shaking their heads.
“Fine,” I said as I took the chart from Lance’s shaking hands. “I’ll take the heat if the quarterback’s thumb doesn’t make it.”
I was still working on the thumb, massaging it after it had been subjected to heat therapy and some electrodes. The smell of the rubbing lotion a pleasant mint, and the football player had asked, “So do they make this in lavender? Lavender is soothing.”
“Don’t know,” I said, and then I took into account his flawlessly manicured nails, his impeccably groomed hair and the way he hadn’t even once looked at my breasts. “But I’ll find out for next time.” I was suddenly wondering if Gus liked football ... more to the point, if he liked football players?
Nicole returned twenty minutes late from her break, she was aglow, she looked like she’d jogged up about five flights of stairs, and I noticed her bra had gone AWOL.
“Nice break?” I asked as she wafted, high as a kite on endorphins, over to where I stood manipulating the golden thumb.
“Roger’s so great. Did you see the shirt I bought him?”
“Nope,” I said. “Missed it.”
“He looks better without it anyways.” Nicole fanned herself with the football player’s chart.”
I introduced Nicole to the football player, and though they nodded agreeably they showed not the slightest interest in each other. Which proved two things to me: that the football player didn’t play for our team, and Nicole was in love.
Mere lust would make a woman week in the knees and all, but only love would make a man-eater like Nicole not even take a second look at a professional athlete. Not to mention a six foot two, gorgeous, incredibly well built one like the ball player.
He absently pulled up his t-shirt and scratched his marvelous six-pack. I froze for a minute. I was getting turned on by this gay ball player.
I shook it off as I worked on the rather large muscles in his thumb, the
calloused tip. In truth the sight off his stomach had made me hungry for Dean -- Dean naked on top of me, Dean hard inside me.
But I also noticed that I didn’t have the blind eye of love, like Nicole. As I took the ball player up to the reception desk to schedule his next appointment, I wondered exactly what -- if anything -- that meant?
*****
Chapter 16
As I strolled home with Ozzie and Harriet in my hand, I felt myself getting revved up every time a good looking man passed by me. It was starting to bug me, that was until I got to my apartment and found one lone message on my answering machine. It was from Dean.
“Hey, Lucy. I’ve been thinking about you all day. Can I come over tonight? I promise to bring something really good for you to eat.”
I stood over my answering machine and played the message three times. Did he sound like a man in love? Or did he just sound like a horny guy that needed to get laid?
Ultimately it didn’t matter, because I was a horny woman that desperately needed to fuck her boyfriend.
So I called him back. He answered on the second ring and sounded happy to hear from me. “I know we’ve been going at it every day this week, I just can’t get enough.”
“It’s like you can read my mind.” A horny guy, most definitely.
And as I hung up the phone I wondered how I felt about that?
I’m such an asshole.
*****
I decided to try getting dolled up on my own. First I showered and towel dried my hair. Next I applied the powdery stuff that so magically concealed my flaws before. It went on easier than I’d thought, the large brush whisking it over my face effortlessly. Next some mascara and eye shadow, then some lipstick -- I didn’t dare try the eye liner ... seemed like a poked out eye just waiting to happen.
I looked at myself in the mirror and thought, not bad, not bad at all.
Next came taming my curly hair. I took out the flat iron Mother had bought me at Macy’s. It didn’t look like an intimidating piece of machinery. On the contrary, the feel of it, light as a feather in my hand, filled me with a false feeling of competence. After all, Bess had been able to tame my locks in next to no time. I could certainly do it in ... I looked to the digital clock by my bed.