“That’s ridiculous. You can’t buy me a car.”
“I can. Have you ever tried driving a car?”
“Why do you care?”
“I’ve already told you why I care. I don’t have time to argue about this, you need to get a license, it’s irresponsible not to. One day you’ll have a family and you need to be able to drive them around—and no you can’t put it off until you’ve danced the lead in Giselle.”
Oh shit. He wants a family soon. He’s not going to want to wait for me.
“If I were around when you were sixteen I would have given you driving lessons by force. Get into the driver’s seat. Now.”
There’s something about the tone of his voice, and the thought of being in a car alone with Johnny when I was sixteen that makes me unbuckle my seatbelt, get out of the car, and silently curse my nipples for suddenly standing at attention. Like, if I do crash this car, an airbag will be unnecessary because my nipples will prevent the rest of me from hitting anything.
When I get into the drivers seat, John is calmly belted-up next to me. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and twists in my direction. “Buckle up.”
“I am! Duh.”
“Now, adjust the mirrors.”
“Yes. I know what to do, I’ve seen other people do it a million times, while selfishly and irresponsibly allowing them to drive me places.”
I adjust the seat and I adjust all the mirrors. I place my right foot on the brake pedal.
“Fuck.”
“What?”
I look over and see him staring at my protruding nipples. He licks his lips, shakes his head, and turns to face straight ahead. “Just drive. Slowly.”
“You really trust me to do this?”
“There’s like half a square mile of flat open space and no one else around. Yes, I trust you.” He adjusts his jeans. Serves him right. Take that, John’s penis!
I take a deep breath. It’s really dumb that I’m even the least bit nervous, because there’s about a five percent chance that I’d accidentally ram my foot against the gas pedal, that the gas pedal would get stuck, and we’d crash into the side of the old brick warehouse that is so far away I wouldn’t even want to get out and walk there.
“Hands at ten and two o’clock.”
“What?”
“Pretend the steering wheel is a clock. Keep your hands at ten and two o’clock.”
“Nobody drives like that!”
“I do.”
“Nerd.”
He mumbles something under his breath, I’m pretty sure it involves “pointy nipples.”
I move the gearshift thing into Drive and slowly, carefully, move my right foot onto the gas pedal, my left foot hovering above the brake pedal. I drive slower than I thought it was possible to drive.
“Emergency brakes.”
“What?!” I jam my foot back onto the brake pedal, because I can’t talk and drive at the same time.
He calmly points to the parking brake. “Release the parking brake.”
“Fine.” I release the parking brake. I release my foot from the brake pedal. I press my foot against the gas pedal. And I drive.
I drive the shit out of this rental car. I don’t drive all herky-jerky or super slow. I drive straight, and when he tells me to signal and then make a right turn, I do it. He barks at me to check the mirrors before turning even when there’s no one around because there might be someone around. When he tells me to make a left turn, I signal first, check the mirrors, and then I do it. When he tells me to change lanes, I don’t tell him that there aren’t any lanes, I signal, check my mirrors, and then I pretend to change lanes.
I fucking love driving. I can’t believe I’ve never done this before. He’s right. I was scared. It’s so dumb to be scared of something that pretty much every adult on this continent does on a regular basis.
“Change lanes and then make a left turn.”
I signal, check my mirrors, look over my shoulder, and pretend to change lanes, then slow down and make a left turn. Driving is fun.
“Okay, slow down and come to a complete stop, put it in park. That’s enough.”
“But I’m having fun!”
“We need to get back and change for the fundraiser.”
I groan, but I slow down and stop and park.
“Good job, kid,” he says. “I knew you could do it.”
Before he has unbuckled and unlocked his door, I have climbed over the center divider and lowered myself onto him, straddling him.
“What are you—”
I kiss him hard and deep. I feel like a teenager. He tries to speak and pull away from me, but he can’t. He can’t because I’m grinding away on him and I’ve moved his hands to my pointy nipples. I am so turned on by this man. The element of surprise. The confidence. The trust. The way his hands squeeze my tits even when he’s protesting that we have to get going, the deep sound from his throat, the dark stubble that tickles my skin, his hard cock inside his very expensive jeans, the way his tongue sweeps around inside my mouth even before he realizes what I’m doing to him. The talk of driving my kids around Palo Alto in a zombie apocalypse.
I pull off his glasses and place them on the dashboard.
“I want you to fuck me.”
“I don’t have condoms on me.”
“I don’t care, I’m on the pill.”
“Two forms of birth control.” His voice is deep and breathy, but he’s squeezing my ass as I bear down on him, dry humping him like it’s an Olympic category and I am going for the gold. I lift my hands up to the ceiling of the car and let my head fall as I arch back and he raises my T-shirt, kissing my breasts and rocking his hips up.
I am wild and blind with desire, but he is so unabashedly into me right now, I don’t want to lose this feeling. I want John Brandt to lose his mind from wanting me so much. “Fuck me John Brandt,” I whisper into his ear, “I want your big hard dick inside of me.”
“Olivia.”
That stern reprimanding voice just makes me even wetter, and he knows it.
“This is ridiculous,” he says, as he reaches down to unzip his jeans.
I am so close to coming. Lifting myself up so he can pull his dick out actually hurts because I desperately need to feel something between my legs besides my own throbbing ache. I realize that I am wearing tight jeans too, and despite my flexibility I will probably not be able to get them off without getting out of the car.
“Shit,” I say. As I reach for the car door, someone knocks on the back door window and I scream.
I’m sure I will always be grateful to that officer for interrupting our vehicular lovemaking session, because what if I had gotten pregnant? With all the time changes while we were traveling, my birth control pills were taken at weird times, and who knows. I can’t believe I got so randy in a car, in a remote parking lot, in broad daylight.
But I still think it’s fucking hilarious.
John Brandt, however, fails to see the humor in it. He has barely looked at me since that old cop gave us a stern reprimand (not the kind that makes me horny) and told us to be on our way.
“Oh come on, it’s not like we got arrested.”
“I’m about to give a speech to a restaurant full of people, asking them to donate money to my foundation for the advancement of women in tech, less than two hours after an officer of the law found us dry humping in a rental car behind an abandoned warehouse. What’s worse—if he had shown up any earlier he would have found you driving that rental car without a license because I made you do it.”
“Oh lighten up.” I straighten his tie. “We’re at a party.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not thinking straight.”
“It’s not the end of the world.”
“It might be.” He leans in and stage whispers in my ear while buttoning his jacket. “We have to pose for pictures now. Do me a favor and try not to grab my dick or show your boobs.”
“Ever?”
He grins and
shakes his head again. “You are nothing but trouble.”
“I’m your Pepper Potts,” I blink my doe eyes, innocently. “I keep you out of trouble.”
“You’re Kryptonite.”
“Stop mixing superhero metaphors. But thank you.”
“It’s not a compliment.”
“Yes it is.” You can’t stay mad at me.
He clenches his jaw and leans in towards me, resting his forehead against mine.
A man behind him clears his throat.
“John?”
I feel John’s body tense up, but it’s not reflected on his face.
He pulls away from me and turns around to face—“Hi Dad.” He shakes hands with the silver fox who looks so much like an older version of John, it’s startling but it also makes me infinitely sad for some reason, seeing evidence of how beautiful my fake boyfriend is going to be decades from now.
“Hi Mom,” he says to the slender woman who’s looking at me with polite interest. He got the dark hair from her, the blue eyes from his father, the intense seriousness from both of them. He and his mother don’t hug so much as they give each other a two-handed pat on the arms while leaning in.
“Hello, John. You look good.”
“Good to see you. This is my girlfriend, Olivia Montgomery. My parents, Calvin and Sofia.”
I smile at them, just as politely curious as his mother is. You don’t spend any holidays with him, but you’re just in time for the photo op at your son’s schmoozefest?
“Hello, it’s so good to finally meet you.” I hold out my hand.
“Nice to meet you, Olivia Montgomery.” His father is friendly, but I can tell there’s zero name recognition.
Finally, there’s a flash of recognition in Mrs. Brandt’s eyes. “Montgomery?”
“Yes, she’s Monty’s sister. Nathan Montgomery’s sister.”
“Oh my goodness what a small world. You still live in Cleveland?”
I open my mouth to answer but John answers for me.
“She lives in San Francisco. She’s with the Bay Area Ballet out there.”
“Oh how nice. Ballet, how lovely and…nice.”
“Great turnout tonight, John,” his father says. “Oh—not your kind of turnout, ballerina!” He laughs.
I laugh. That was actually pretty clever.
I take John’s hand. It is sweaty. What?!
“I think the photographers are waiting for us over there,” his mother says.
“Right, let’s get to it. I am happy with the turnout, yes.”
“There are a few people we’re dying to meet,” his father says.
“Of course, just let me, uh, let me know and I’ll…”
I think, for the first time ever, the unflappable John Brandt is flapped. I’m not sure why he’s nervous. Is it because he’s introducing me to his parents? Is it because he’s introducing his parents to me? Is he still worried that I’ll flash my boobs?
We pose for pictures on the small red carpet, in front of a divider with the Encompass Foundation logo and the logos of various Cleveland businesses and schools that are partnering with John tonight.
Calvin and Sofia are all too proud to announce to the photographers that they’re John’s parents. I understand why John isn’t mad at them. They are perfectly nice people and they probably aren’t even aware that they neglected him. Look how great he turned out (not the ballet kind of turnout), they must have done a great job parenting him. Only it was my parents who basically raised them.
I keep looking around for my brother, who had texted that he and his girlfriend will get here a little late.
When we are done posing for pictures, and John’s parents are listing off the VIPs they want to be introduced to, I notice my dear old brother and a very pretty lady watching John and me from afar. I know immediately that Nathan had been observing us, because he has a thoughtful look on his face, and he is nodding to himself. He finally realizes I’m looking right at him and waves. I excuse myself from the Brandts and meet Nathan and his girlfriend half-way.
“Hi!” I reach my hand out to Katie. There is something about this lady that makes me want to be related to her. Dusting of freckles, tamed wavy hair, perfect little black dress, and what looks to be a permanent wry smile and knowing look. I can just tell she’s got my brother whipped in the best possible way. “You must be Katie. I’m Olivia.”
She pulls me in for a hug. “You’re even more gorgeous in person. I’ve been dying to meet you. Hi. I love your shoes.”
“I love your nail polish.”
“I have an extra one at the hotel, I’ll bring it for you tomorrow.”
“Oh my gosh you don’t have to do that.”
“Oh look at you, a real ballerina, so pretty!”
“You’re stunning.”
“Oh my God this bracelet is so pretty!” She holds up my arm and gawks at the diamond bracelet.
I smile, I can feel myself blushing. “Johnny gave it to me when we were in New York.”
Her jaw drops. “Stop it! You just started dating! It’s so pretty it’s stupid.”
“I know.”
“And I’m here too, hi.” Nathan waves his hand in front of my face.
“Yes, hello.” I hug my brother.
“So you and Johnny look pretty good together, huh?” My brother wraps his arm around Katie’s waist as he says this.
I shrug my shoulders. “Do we?”
“You are such a gorgeous couple. You should see the way he looks at you, oh my God.” Katie touches her hand to her heart. “It’s so cute. I can’t wait to meet him.”
“Yeah, well, he’s a cute guy.”
“He is?” Nathan’s face gets all screwed up. “You think he’s a cute guy? Johnny B. Nerdballs?”
“What can I say, those nerdballs have grown on me.”
After a beat, we all start laughing so hard, we barely hear John asking what’s so funny. I barely hear the voice in my head that’s telling me John’s parents are probably thinking exactly what I’ve been thinking: I don’t bring enough to the table. Here is a man who is doing so much—for thousands of nerds who need jobs and funding, for women to be better represented in a field that I know nothing about, for hungry people in China, for me. And I dance in ballets, which is nice.
19
John
She’s wearing a thin sleep shirt with Snoopy on it, and sleep shorts, which apparently is a thing. She has braided her hair into two pigtails. She looks like a teenager. She’s doing this to torture me, because we’re in her old bedroom. It is currently being used as Mrs. Montgomery’s craft room/puppy room, but it’s the same double bed, the same lavender colored duvet. She sits on the edge of the bed and smirks when she sees the tent in my pajama bottoms.
I’m very pleased with the way things went at the fundraiser tonight, happy to have met Monty’s wonderful girlfriend, happy to be in the Montgomery house again, relieved that the week of big events is over, and now I just want to get into bed with this devious minx and make all my secret college-age fantasies come true.
I put my messenger bag inside my suitcase and zip up the suitcase. It’s an unnecessary precaution, but there are important things in there and I’m not taking any chances. The bedroom door is shut and the Montgomery puppy—whose name is Bob—is scratching against it and whining. I hear Mr. Montgomery gently shush, pick him up, and pad down the hall to the master bedroom and close the door.
Now I can turn off the lights and get into bed with the youngest non-canine Montgomery. There’s a condom in my pajama pant pocket and I am beyond ready for this. Olivia is already in bed, facing away from me. I yank on her pigtail, because how can I not?
“Ow.” She buries her face in the pillow, trying not to laugh, but I see her body quivering.
I can’t believe we almost did it in the passenger seat of a rental car in a parking lot this afternoon. I can’t believe she was willing to forego her “always two forms of birth control” rule. I can’t believe I am so powerless
to resist this woman and I don’t understand how I can be so afraid of something that makes me feel so good. But my body is winning this battle and I am willing to let my brain lose the war.
I press my body up against the back of hers. She wiggles and pushes back into me so the part of me that is enthusiastically protruding fits comfortably between her upper thighs. “Nighty night,” she says, saucily.
This girl. Nothing but trouble.
“Good night,” I say, my arm circling her waist. I wait a good ninety seconds before slowly moving my hand up under her Snoopy shirt, finding her breasts and her already-hard nipples, my new best friends. She sucks in her breath, wiggles around, teasing my erection with her butt in those little shorts.
How many times did I imagine what it would feel like to slide into this bed with her? Alone in my room in Cambridge, late at night, I’d picture her under this comforter, always clothed (the most I could do to honor Monty and her parents). Despite her fantasy sleepwear, which consisted of a tank top and bikini underwear, I mean it was still my fantasy after all, my hands and tongue managed to explore every inch of her, outside and in, before my throbbing cock quietly rammed and exploded into her. I’m glad I waited until I had become more of a master of the bedroom arts, but fucking hell, now that I’m really here, in her old bedroom, with her parents down the hall, I may only last about thirty seconds.
When my hand reaches down into her shorts, my fingers discover a slick little pool of Olivia nectar and every single thing I’ve learned about sexual control dissolves into it. I let out a groan that is louder than I meant for it to be, but she does too. She puts her hand over mine, still wiggling around. “My parents are down the hall,” she whispers.
“Lighten up,” I say.
She likes that. She turns and moves herself beneath me, kissing my mouth, my neck, my jaw, my ears. Her legs are wrapped around me, clinging me to her, her body rocking with mine. The frantic energy from this afternoon is still here, impatient and ready for release.
We aren’t even naked, but it feels so dirty.
“What are you doing to me?” I moan into her ear, as I slip on the condom. “I can’t control myself around you anymore.”
Cocky Nerd Page 15