She pays attention. She makes intuitive and intellectual connections.
“Your Mom kept making it for me after I said I liked it once. Nobody’s ever done that for me before.” There’s an unexpected crack in my voice. I clear my throat as I push my glasses up my nose and look directly at her, so she can see that I’m not crying. I’m not a pussy, I just appreciate how nice her Mom is to me.
She doesn’t convey surprise at my revelation, she just nods. “It does make her happy. And it makes you happy. So if one little lie makes two people happy then it’s okay?”
She questions things.
“I suppose it depends on the nature of the lie.”
She blinks. “I wouldn’t want anyone to lie to me to make me happy.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want what someone else says to decide whether I’m happy or not.”
She must have what they call a high Emotional IQ. Too bad that won’t get her anywhere in life.
“To determine whether you’re happy or not.”
“Whatever. I’d just rather have all the information I need to make an informed decision about something. When people start sugar coating things it just makes things complicated.”
“So why do you think it’s a problem when I don’t try not to be rude to people?”
“I didn’t say I thought it was a problem.”
I will definitely miss talking to this girl. Maybe I should suggest we become email pen pals when I leave for college.
“I also didn’t say I particularly like people who don’t sugar coat things.” She grins. “I’m an enigma.”
Yes. She is.
10
Olivia
I wake up in a bed of thousand thread count Egyptian cotton sheets. The only noise outside the window, which is covered with sheer white curtain panels that let in gorgeous light, is birds singing. No honking, no people on the street, no street noise whatsoever.
This guest room is spare but so tasteful and elegant and relaxing. The door is still completely shut. The rubber snakes are still on the floor. I’m glad they didn’t leave a mark on the creamy white walls. But I’m also annoyed that he didn’t come to me last night, even after that hot kiss. Must have been an important business call. He wasn’t kidding when he said he has a busy schedule. I suppose if this were September instead of July, I would barely have time for him or anyone else that I was trying to have a romantic relationship with.
I suppose it’s still unclear as to whether or not we’re even trying to have a romantic relationship with each other.
But that’s also why I want to get as much out of this next month with him as possible. I want to make a dent in his universe. I have never seen this guy let loose or lose his shit. Even when I hid the rubber snakes in his sleeping bag when he was twelve, I heard him make a few loud "uhhh! uhhh!" sounds and then Nathan said he jumped out of the sleeping bag, rolled it up and tossed it into the closet so the snakes couldn't get out. He said he was a fast-thinking badass. Then I ran into the room laughing, but it was terribly disappointing. I could get his attention, but I could never quite get a rise out of him. He always seemed to be able to think his way out of an emotion.
I need to loosen him up. Maybe he’s all talk and he isn’t really ready for action with me. Maybe I need to break down his workaholic nerd walls.
I check my phone, to see if John has texted or called to let me know what to expect this morning—nope. I brush my teeth and run my fingers through my hair, but don’t change out of my sleep shirt, just put on a pair of leggings and walk barefoot to the kitchen, expecting to fend for myself, not even sure if John is home right now.
I find a cherubic middle-aged Hispanic lady in the kitchen, making coffee. It smells amazing, and I smell food too. This must be his housekeeper.
“Hello,” I say.
She turns to me, all smiles. “Ohhhhh hello good morning! You must be Miss Olivia! I am Gracia, I go to your house yesterday. I meet Callie.”
“Yes, hi! Thank you so much for doing that, I’ve never seen our apartment look so good.”
I hold my hand out to shake hers, but she brings me in for a warm squishy hug.
“What a great location you got! What you want for breakfast? I already make everything Mister John say you like.” She gestures towards the kitchen island, where there’s a stainless steel chafer set up, like in the breakfast room of a motel, but fancier. She holds up the lid to show me perfect scrambled eggs and turkey bacon. There’s a three-tiered stand holding my favorite fruit, gluten-free high fiber muffins and bread, a Belgian waffle-maker and a Vitamix blender. “I can make waffle. Smoothie things are in the cupboard here and in the fridge and freezer here. I just now make a fresh pot of coffee. The boys are in Mister John’s office. They already eat. Oh and we got your cereal too. What do you want?”
This. I want all of this. Every day.
Gracia reminds me of my Mom, if my mom were Hispanic. My heart aches a little for Johnny, because I know that’s why he hired her. Johnny has always adored my Mom because she’s everything his own mother isn’t. Now he’s hired a Steph Montgomery for himself. Now that I think of it, his driver Richard was like a Polynesian Alan Montgomery. It’s like he’s putting together his own West Coast multi-ethnic Montgomery clan. Aww.
After eating literally all that Gracia had to offer, I explore the rooms of the house that John didn’t show me last night. I love this house. It’s not at all what I would have pictured for Johnny and I can’t help but imagine myself living here. It makes me kind of mad that he’s never invited me here sooner. Or maybe I’m still mad at him for blowing me off last night. Or maybe I’m just used to being mad at him for something—anything.
I step into the large bedroom that is being used as an exercise room. He has an impressive array of exercise machines, a mirrored wall, and indeed he has a ballet barre set up. I lift my leg up onto it, to stretch, but it’s too soon after eating. I take a peek at the iPhone speaker dock, curious to know what John listens to when he works out, betting on podcasts. I press play on the remote and Tupac blares from the tiny speakers. He certainly has acclimated to the West Coast.
I make my way down the hall to the door to his home office. I hear WuTang Clan playing at an acceptable work-space volume, and several voices. The door is half-open. I knock and poke my head in.
John is wearing a form-fitting grey T-shirt and black jeans that instantly make me want to make out with him, and also makes me angry because I know I can’t. He’s wearing glasses this morning, an expensive blue-rimmed pair that accents his blue eyes and black hair beautifully. In high school he wore steel-rimmed glasses that did nothing for his face (other than helping to keep his face from walking into walls).
He is holding up a laptop and flanked by two early twentysomething geeks in hoodies and a clean-cut young East Indian man wearing a tucked-in salmon pink polo shirt.
They all look up at me and stare.
Welcome to Nerdville, please leave your boobs at the door, do not make eye contact with the nerds and absolutely do not attempt to touch the nerds or they may short-circuit.
John smiles and hands his laptop to the guy in the polo shirt. “Morning. Come in.”
I step inside. He comes over to kiss my cheek. He smells soapy-clean and minty fresh with a hint of coffee, and I’m so glad he hasn’t shaved yet. “You have breakfast yet?”
“I did, it was wonderful, thanks.”
He puts his hand on my back. “Guys, this is my girlfriend Olivia. Olivia, this is Sanjay whom you spoke to on the phone, and two of my programmers, Mike and Stuart.”
I smile at all of them and wave, but the words “this is my girlfriend Olivia” are ringing through my ears and vibrating through my body. He didn’t use the g-word when he introduced me to Phil and Elaine last night. It’s strange and exciting and sexy but a tad uncomfortable. Like putting on a new pair of thong panties. I can get used to it.
The guys just stare at me, open-mouthed for a
few seconds, before Sanjay steps forward to shake my hand. “Very nice to meet you in person, Olivia, we spoke on the phone yesterday.”
“Hi, yes, very nice to meet you too.”
John takes the laptop back from Sanjay so he can retrieve something from a pile of papers on the table. “I’ve emailed you your itinerary for the trip, did you receive it?”
“I haven’t checked my email yet, but I’m sure it’s fine.”
“Here is your passport back. John has your visa for China, so everything is together in one place.”
“Great. Thank you for taking care of all that.”
“It’s my job and my pleasure.” He tries to wink, but it just looks like he has a facial tremor.
The hoodie geeks are now completely engrossed in their computers. Sanjay returns to the table to type on his laptop. John puts his laptop down on the table and comes back over to me.
“Do you work today?”
“I work the dinner shift, yeah, but I’m free for a while.” I reach out to touch his T-shirt and get a feel for his toned abs beneath it. I just can’t help but touch him.
He tenses up and clears his throat. “So, we leave for China in three days and then the New York gala is right after that. You may want to go shopping today. For clothes?” He pulls out his wallet and gives me ten crisp hundred-dollar bills. “That might not be enough. You can call me and I’ll just pay for whatever you need over the phone.”
“Oh. Thanks. So you’re working today?”
“Oh yes. Every day. I’ve had my assistant research the best ballet classes in Shanghai in case you’d like to drop in on one while we’re there, I know you have to stay fit during the off-season. But let us know if there’s anything specific that you need while we’re there.”
“I only do ballet classes once or twice a week in the summer, actually. I go to the gym more now and cross-train.”
“Interesting. To work on physical imbalances?”
“Exactly. Most of the year we’re working the same muscles over and over, so now’s the time to work on general athleticism.”
He smiles. “I like that, that’s smart. Well, the hotels we’ll be staying at have world class fitness centers and indoor pools. It’s off-season for the Shanghai Ballet now too, unfortunately, but there is a Peking Opera that we’ve been invited to by our hosts. Have you been to one before?”
“No. But I’ve watched parts of some on YouTube. I’d love to see that.”
“Some people find the shrill singing voices annoying, and the staging too stiff, but I find it quite beautiful and energizing.”
“Can’t wait.”
“Oh, and you’ll notice in the itinerary that we’re flying first class to Shanghai, from SFO. I hope you don’t mind. As I mentioned, I consider private jets to be a shameless waste of money and fuel.”
“Your frugality and consideration for the environment is admirable.”
He’s ushering me out the door. “Have you had enough breakfast and coffee?”
“Yes.”
“Good. We have a lot to do here, so I’ll have my driver take you home.”
I jerk my arm away from him. “I don’t need your driver to take me home.”
When we’re in the hallway, he says, voice lowered, “Don’t be stubborn, Olivia, a Lyft is an unnecessary expense that I don’t want to pay for.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“I’m not using my driver this morning, he will take you home.”
“It’s not okay for you to order me around.”
“Was I ordering you around?”
I don’t know, was he? I’m horny and annoyed and I don’t like being sent home. I get to choose when I go home. “I just don’t like your tone.”
“You’ve never liked my tone. That didn’t stop you from kissing me last night.”
“Oh you remember that, do you?”
He laughs.
“Don’t laugh at me.”
He leads me into the guest room and shuts the door behind us.
He crosses his arms in front of his chest and leans forward to examine my face. “You’re a little worked up.”
I cross my arms in front of my chest too, a petulant child, I just can’t help it.
“You think that I forgot about you last night, but I didn’t forget.”
“I don’t care, I just—I don’t know if I can handle a month of this.”
“I’m sorry I got caught up with work last night, Olivia.” His voice is sultry, all of a sudden. He steps in front of me and gazes down at me, gently brushes strands of hair out of my face with his fingers. His touch sends shivers down my spine and I hate that he has that kind of affect on me.
I step away and start throwing the cash and all my stuff into my overnight bag. I’m not going to let this nerd control me like this—I don’t care how freaking hot he is. If I’m here he should be prioritizing me over everything else—I don’t care if he’s paying me. I don’t care if he has billion dollar international deals. I didn’t have to agree to this. If he thinks he can just…His hands are on my shoulders.
He turns me around to face him. “Olivia…I liked kissing you,” he whispers, cupping my chin. “I liked kissing you more than I like most things.”
What the fuck are you doing to me, nerd?
I tilt my chin up. “Then you should do it again.”
He stares at my lips, hungrily, letting out a sigh. The way he’s looking at me, I feel like the climax of Carmen is being performed in my stomach, complete with bull fighting and death threats.
I stand on my tiptoes, remove his glasses, and kiss him along his jaw line. His stubble is prickly and I need to feel it on my tongue. I lick up his neck to his ear lobe, releasing a guttural sound from his throat.
“Olivia, I’m trying to work something out with my programmers.”
“You should be working something out with me.”
He cradles the back of my head with one hand and leans down into my exploring mouth, his own tongue warm and instantly probing. One hand to my ass and he lifts me up so my legs encircle him. I reach down and feel him growing hard in his jeans.
“I can’t now,” he says, in between kisses. “The guys are waiting for me.”
“They can wait a little longer,” I say, as I lift up my T-shirt and press my bare breasts against him. Does your work have tits like these? I don’t think so, buddy.
“Oh shit,” he exhales. “What are you doing to me?”
“The question is, what are you going to do to me now that you have me?”
He gives me a look—game on. He carries me to the bed, lays me down, and kisses my breasts, slow and tender at first, and then he’s licking and sucking wildly. His immediate unrestrained passion is stunning to me, and I wonder if he’s been wanting this for longer than I’d realized. Given my body’s response to him, I even wonder if I’ve been wanting this for longer than I’d realized. I toss away his glasses, arch my back pull off my shirt and spread my arms out, giving myself to him. My legs tighten their grip around him, thrusting my aching clit against his erection.
He grunts.
Something has been unleashed, and I love it.
This needs to happen. Now.
His tongue flicks at my nipple, swirls around before sucking again. He is consuming me, completely unaware of anything but my tits, and I am close to coming already. His surprising carnal lust for me is a total aphrodisiac. I want that big hard cock in me.
I say his name and reach for his belt.
Neither of us hears the knock at the door until it goes from timid to urgent.
“Mr. Brandt?” It’s Sanjay. More knocking. “Mr. Brandt, I have the call from New York.”
“Don’t stop,” I say.
Johnny lowers his head into my cleavage to catch his breath. I let go of his belt.
Fuck!
“I’ll need a minute,” he growls.
“Yes, sir. Should I have him hold?”
“Yes!” Johnny yells. “Wait for me in
my office!”
I hear Sanjay run down the hall.
“Johnny, don’t stop.”
He gets up very slowly, his hand on his crotch, his eyes averted from my naked torso. “Sorry. I have to take that call.” His voice is strained.
I reluctantly put my shirt back on.
“Fucking Sanjay,” he groans, reaching into his jeans to shift the position of his dick. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I say, although it really isn’t. My body is screaming for completion and release. “Will I see you later tonight?”
He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head as he takes a long slow inhale and exhale, hands on hips, pacing around. “No. Fuck. I have conference calls all night and meetings all day tomorrow. I won’t be able to see you until we pick you up for the airport.”
“Oh…Well, that’s a shame.”
“I told you I was busy. I’ll make it up to you. Eventually.” He has almost regained his composure. He looks around for his glasses.
I reach for them and hold them up to him.
He puts his glasses on and holds onto my outstretched hand with both of his, kissing my palm. I reach up to touch his cheek, but he pulls back, straightens himself up.
“I have to take that call. Take my car home, and if you need him to take you shopping or anything, just let me know. Okay?”
I nod, stand up. “Thank you.”
His eyelashes flicker, and suddenly he lunges towards me and pulls me to him, one hand on the small of my back, one behind my head, kissing me. He can’t resist me, and I am instantly turned on again.
“Just fuck me now,” I say into his mouth.
“Mmmm, nope.” He pulls away. “Can’t. See yourself out.” He strides out of the room without looking back.
I have never felt such frustration in my life.
I will see myself out.
I slam the door shut, lock it, and make myself come. I am so slippery wet, I plant myself face-down into a pillow because I come fast and loud and furious.
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