Blue Diamond

by Dawn Umrie

  Oh, it’s on.

  And that’s when I step out of the greenery like a jungle cat and reach for the metal chair from an unoccupied table and slide it over to theirs. The high-pitched screeching noise garners a few looks. I look at Merissa only. “Mind if I join you? I just came from Graffiti’s and was getting ready to order lunch to go when I saw you guys sitting here.”

  It’s just a little white lie.

  “Of course, Seth, this is Tim. He’s an agent over at South Shores across the street,” she says while twisting her silver ring in circles.

  Without being able to examine it like I’d like to, and with her hands constantly fiddling, I notice a small heart of some kind tattooed on her thumb near the palm. I’ll have to revisit it at a later date, preferably with my lips.

  I finally consider Tim, who can’t seem to make eye contact with me. He’s now anxious whether I overheard his farm-load of bullshit or not.

  I raise my chin at him in greeting. “Yes, I know Tim, we do business together.” I’m not sure if that could be considered a lie by omission or not, but now doesn’t seem like the time to explain.

  Tim nods his head in agreement, obviously taking my lead when the server sees me and steps over to the table.

  “Hello, can I get you anything, Sir?”

  I already had a quick bite, but contemplate what to eat that will toy with Timmy over there, so he doesn’t get the alone time he’s so obviously seeking.

  I’m a guy, I see the way his eyes follow her every move—like that day I caught him at the agency when he thought he was alone. In a nutshell, I don’t like him. The day I asked him to contact her went against my better judgment. I figured he’d remain professional, but now after listening to what he told her before I sat down, he has ulterior motives.

  “You know what? I’d love a blueberry muffin and a cup of coffee—black, please.” And I’m going to peck at that muffin like a bored pigeon.

  I watch as Tim fidgets in his chair like the pansy ass that he is. My muffin and coffee arrive, and that thing is on steroids. Even better. I pull it apart and eat it, as promised. Morsel by tiny morsel.

  Each bite is a fuck you.

  After I take a small sip of coffee, I say, “This is the most delicious blueberry muffin I’ve ever tasted.” Merissa giggles as she stabs a piece of lettuce with her fork.

  Tim abruptly gets up from his chair after a quick glimpse of his phone. “My clients arrived earlier than planned, and they’re waiting for me. Merissa, I’ll call you to set up the final walk-through?”

  Merissa wipes her mouth with a napkin and looks up at him, crinkling her nose. “Oh, okay, sure. I can’t thank you enough for negotiating the furniture and everything else in the house from the stagers.”

  Timmy, Timmy, Timmy… I sip my coffee and look right at him with my brows raised. He coughs, probably because he’s choking on his lie.

  “Sure, I’ll be in touch,” he says hurriedly. “It was good to see you, Seth.” He’s looking at the top of my head.

  “You, too.” Pussy

  We watch as he scurries back across the street like the rat that he is, and the server picks that exact moment to place the check in front of me, but my attention is now drawn to my wrist where I feel her fingers make contact in the most feather-like of touches.

  “No. Way.” she says in a loud whisper, then slaps her hand over her mouth.

  Amused by her current state, I lift one eyebrow. “Something wrong?” Damn, if she isn’t the prettiest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. Wearing an off the shoulder blouse, my eyes travel across her exposed skin before landing on another tattoo, this time, the solar system. Who knew our planets were so sexy? Or, maybe it’s because her flawless skin makes the perfect blank canvas.

  “Tim asked me to lunch in celebration of me signing a rental agreement and said that it was his treat. For me to think of it as a write-off.” She makes air quotes with her fingers. “But he just left without paying,” she stammers, shuffling through the contents of her purse before pulling out a wallet.

  I can’t quite read her expression, but I would wager a bet that she’s upset. She’s rifling through her wallet until she pulls out a card, and I gently put my hand on top of hers to stop her. She looks down at my hand touching hers before I pull it away.

  “I’ve got it, sweetheart. Put your card away.”

  Shock shows in her eyes, probably because I called her sweetheart, definitely because I called her sweetheart. It left my mouth as if it was the most natural thing to say. Now she probably thinks her agent is a scam artist and the new owner is a letch.

  “Please, let me at least pay for half.”

  “Not to worry, I’ll be sending good ole’ Timmy boy our bill.” I chuckle while retrieving a hundred-dollar bill from my wallet and placing it into the check holder.

  And for the second time, I got to listen to her deep, throaty laugh, and it’s one of the most beautiful things to witness, especially knowing I’m the reason behind it.

  We both lift ourselves out of our chairs, and I instinctively pull hers out slowly, not wanting my time with her to end. “Is Lucy here, or can I give you a ride up to Graffiti’s?”

  “Funny that you remembered, but no, I left the old coot behind today. I appreciate the offer, I do, but I’d planned on walking back.”

  “My mother would hit me upside the head if she found out I allowed a lady to walk home. So, help a guy out, will you? She’s got an impressive right hook.” That was very much like begging, but I don’t give a shit.

  She pretends to think, her eyes surveying me, and her lips pursed. “Yes, you can give me a ride home. I can’t have a mama-beating on my conscience.”

  I laugh with her as we walk up the sidewalk next to my car. “Here we are… this is me,” I say as I hit the key fob and open the passenger door for her. She looks back at the agency because Timmy obviously made her uncomfortable, and I will make sure that doesn’t happen again.

  “Wow, I’ve never seen a car as pretty as this!”

  I smile at her use of the word pretty; it’s the ultimate compliment when a girl uses it. “Thank you.”

  While closing her door, I take my phone out of my suit pants and swiftly type out a text. Satisfied, I hit send and walk across the front of the car to the other side. Glancing over the roof, I see Tim in the window looking back at me, until he breaks contact in exchange for his phone.

  You need to apologize to the lady for skipping out on the check. S.

  When he lifts his head, I give him a salute before getting behind the wheel.

  Clients my ass.

  We drive off while Creed’s song, “Arms Wide Open” plays.

  “I just love this song,” Merissa croons.

  She spells trouble for me… with a capital T. The kind that is turning me topsy-fuckin’-turvy.

  “Yeah, me, too.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Seth

  Arriving at my penthouse later than usual because of a certain lunch date I crashed today, which, in turn, resulted in me having to extend my work day—but it was worth the minor inconvenience. Janine was somewhat exasperated when I arrived back at work, and probably within good reason, since I said I’d only be a short while to check in on things at Graffiti’s. I don’t give a shit if she was irritated or not, but I know that it wasn’t right to have not extended her the courtesy of a call or text stating that I would be gone longer. Normally, I do, but I guess you could say I was preoccupied. A word that has never been in my vocabulary when it comes to handling my business, both personal and professional—until, Merissa.

  I can't say that I don't know what it is about her that gets my blood boiling.

  I'm well aware.

  Merissa is an angel with a body made for sin and that combination is too much of a seduction for a man like me to turn away from.

  I open the glass shower door and enter, adjusting the water to make it even hotter when I should be taking a fuckin' cold one the way my dick is standing at fu
ll mast from the mere thought of Merissa. There's no way I'll be able to sleep tonight without taking care of it, so I squirt a generous amount of soap into my right hand and rub it up and down my shaft to lubricate it well before using a tighter fist. I'm painfully hard, needing relief, as I begin to stroke my cock from the base all the way to the crown, tightening when I reach the head. My eyes close because of the intense sensation of my skin moving up and down as I barely thrust into my fist.

  I imagine Merissa is lying in my bed, her long black hair draped across my white pillows in a symbol of yin and yang. She leans up on her elbows, her legs spread apart wide, beckoning me with her dark eyes to put my face between her thighs. When I approach, she shakes her head back and forth, a soft smile of seduction forming across her bow-shaped lips. Instead, she surprises me by licking her two fingers seductively, using her saliva as lubricant and starts to stroke her clit in a circular motion. Her eyes close, her head falls back in pleasure, a sweet moan follows with each motion.

  My grip becomes harder, squeezing the head tighter as my hand glides back up over the head. I feel myself throbbing in my hand and my balls are beginning to tighten, so I place my left hand against the shower tiles for support. My forehead is leaning on the cool tile, as I pump my cock faster, feeling it getting harder, ready to explode at any second.

  "Fuck."

  Merissa lets out a primal moan and speeds up her rhythm… while mine starts to match hers, imagining I'm inside of her, thrusting impossibly deep. Her full lips form a perfect “O” as the start of her orgasm pours over her beautiful body, her back arching with my name said in one long moan.

  That’s when I feel the first spurt of my release, warm and dripping over my fist, groaning as I continue pumping myself slowly until every drop empties; and every last sensation disappears. The water continues to spray me, only now I’ve become aware of it as I remain against the shower wall.

  "Holy shit," I say out loud as I lean my head back under the stream of water.

  Merissa

  Graffiti’s is officially closed for renovations, a reality that Mr. Huxley has been less than delighted by.

  “Now, I’ll be forced to watch all the cockamamie T.V. shows the Mrs. watches.”

  Brook and I are going to spend the first day of our staycation basking in the sun on Ft. Lauderdale Beach. My skin is begging for a dose of Vitamin D since I basically live on a dark planet upstairs. Whoever designed this building added only a couple of half-moon shaped windows that don’t open and are just below the ceiling. So, forget about fresh air or any kind of a view.

  Last night, I about died when Brook had me on speaker, and I heard Mike in the background say that we needed to wear MuuMuus, or he’d have to go to jail.

  So, instead of rocking the rectangular shaped dress, (not that there’s anything wrong with it,) I’m wearing a see-through crochet-accented cover-up, backless with tiny pom-poms framing the opening. My bright orange bikini shows through, not having been worn in a while. People get the impression that Floridians are either at the beach or at Disney World, but that’s just not the case.

  Right now, I should be packing my belongings instead of a beach bag, but Sylvia, not Tim, called to let me know that a few details still needed to be taken care of with the house, so it would be an additional week before I could move in. She apologized for the delay and said she wanted everything to be perfect for me. Ugh. She’s as sweet as pie, and everybody, including me, loves flippin’ pie.

  So, in the battle of the beach vs. boxes, the beach remains the undefeated champion.

  I’m not sure what happened with Tim, but I get the distinct feeling his absence from the picture suddenly has something to do with Seth. The tension between the two men seemed to spread across the table like a cloud of pollution that I tried to avoid inhaling since I had my own basket of nervous tension to deal with.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” Brook says right next to me.

  I just sat at a table in the bar with my canvas beach bag loaded to the brim on the floor beside me. A couple of workers are boxing up bottles of alcohol, while a few others are beginning to clear out the room.

  “I was just thinking about my toes squishing in the sand. You look beautiful, sweetie. I want that cover up!”

  The words, ‘Salty hair, coconut oil, big waves and hot sun’ are written in bold black letters on the front of her low-cut shirt that ends at her upper thigh.

  “So, do you, babe! It’s not a Muumuu, but Mike said its something at least. You, on the other hand, could be wearing a sheet and you’d still be a knock-out.”

  “And so, would any woman, because you just described a toga, Brook.”

  She shrieks. “Oh my God, yes! Too funny. Speaking of funny, I have Mike’s big ass truck today so that we have room for all our stuff.”

  Brooke should look out-of-place driving that monstrosity, but that’s the thing about her, she could pull off just about anything and look stylish in the process.

  “So, what are we waiting for, then?” I slip my arm through the straps of my bag. I have yet to master the art of traveling lightly.

  I begin singing the words to that song by Sheryl Crow, “Soak up the Sun.” Brook joins in and our girlie day begins.

  Seth

  Since it’s Saturday, I only worked half a day, because all work and no play makes Seth fuckin’ irritable as shit. I showered and changed at Gym Works after Mike’s kickboxing class, so I feel revived.

  I unlock the front door and walk into Graffiti’s finding that it’s almost empty. Already an improvement. Vee is meeting Trish and I here, then we’re all going together in my vehicle to dinner. Good thing I remembered to drive the Land Rover instead, since both ladies drive small cars that I probably wouldn’t fit in.

  “Seth how are you?” Trish walks over and gives me a hug.

  “I’m starving. I just finished kicking the shit out of my buddy at the gym.” I smile at the look of mortification on her face, while she touches her neck. “Not what you’re thinking. It was a kickboxing class.”

  “Oh, thank God!” she half laughs, half coughs.

  Trish is an attractive woman, close to my age, but I’d never ask. She looks like a more natural version of my PA, Janine. They could pass for sisters, but when I brought that up to Janine one day after Trish left my office, she almost seemed insulted. That woman has a pinwheel of personalities on a never-ending cycle of spins.

  My sister rushes through the front door like the little tornado that she is. I always expect her to throw fairy dust out of her pockets when she enters a room.

  “Why are you coming in here like you just robbed a bank?”

  “I’m excited to go out to dinner, is that a crime?” She hits me in the arm and laughs. “Get it, bank robbery… crime. And why would I need to rob a bank when I’ve got a brother who has just as much money as one.”

  “I have to learn to stop asking you fuckin’ questions.” I pause. “Oh, sorry, Trish, I shouldn’t have said that in front of you.”

  Trish gives my sister a hug. “You two are always so entertaining, and no need for you to say sorry for swearing, Seth, we’ve known each other for some time now,” she says with a smile.

  I elbow my sister before she comes out with a wisecrack about my colorful language.

  “Ow!” Vee rubs her arm like I punched her there. “What was that for?”

  Ignoring her question, “Excuse me, ladies, I am going to go use the restroom and then we’ll leave. Trish, maybe you could take Sylvia around and share some of your plans?”

  “I’d love to!”

  Remembering the bathroom was next to the asshole’s office, I stroll to the back. With his addiction to gambling, I doubt he’d been able to resist the temptation with the kind of money he made from this place. I hope for his sake he paid off his debts first, otherwise, he could quite possibly be swimming with the fishes.

  Finding the correct door, I pull the handle and freeze in place when I hear a loud bang that sounds lik
e the side door being kicked in. I pull my tactical knife out of my pocket and walk in the direction I believe the noise just came from. Thoughts that it could be the goons that might be hunting, Jim down, spoon-feeds my paranoia with more.

  I practically stomp around the corner, my knife held up when I see Merissa, her huge bag falling to the floor, keys flying on a scream.

  When she sees that it’s me and not some crazed lunatic, she closes her eyes and lets out a long exhale.

  “Shit! You scared the daylights out of me! What the hell are you doing acting like Vin Diesel in the hallway?” She’s now clutching her heart while repeating, “Oh my God.” Like a mantra.

  “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I heard a loud bang, and I thought… never mind what I thought. Are you okay?”

  She takes a deep breath. “It’s okay, I’m okay, and everything is okay. Do you always make it a habit of wielding a knife when you hear a noise?”

  A smirk slowly spreads across my face. “Not always.”

  Smiling at my comment, “Put that thing away, it freaks me out.”

  “Funny, that’s what she said.”

  Damn, not the most appropriate comment from the owner, but hell, I’m going to be an owner, not so much a boss.

  “Ha… ha. I’m glad you can joke when I almost had a heart attack in this hallway,” she says while retrieving her keys off the floor.

  “Seems you can’t hang on to a set of keys, can you?”

  I know I’m instigating the shit out of her, but I can’t help myself. That’s when I really take notice of her wardrobe or lack thereof. My eyes do a quick perusal while she’s getting her keys. A white sun hat with a large brim sits on her head, even though the sun has long gone down, her bathing suit cover is sheer, allowing me to see her luscious curves. When she finally lifts herself back up, I could see a faint line of freckles across the bridge of her nose, slightly pink from the sun.

  “It seems you can’t hang on to your suspicions.”

  Ah, a little spice in this angel.