by Young, M. L.
“Why don’t you come take a shower with me?” I asked.
The words floated out of my mouth and I couldn’t even stop them. What the hell was going on?
“Are you sure?” she asked, with a smile.
“Yeah, it’ll be fun. It’ll have to be quick, though. I have to get to the office. I’ll have Gustav waiting afterwards to take you home,” I said, knowing I couldn’t back out of the offer just seconds after making it.
“Okay, let’s go,” she said.
With my coffee now done, I forwent it and grabbed her hand before we walked upstairs to my shower. I had a shower large enough for ten people, with twenty sprayers and nozzles all over that were enough to clean a muddied elephant.
I watched as she slipped out of her dress and pulled her panties down from behind. Fuck, was she hot, and as I saw little hints of her pink pussy, I knew I wanted to taste it again. I slid my pajama pants off and walked into the now steaming shower as she waited inside for me.
As the warm water hit our bodies from all directions, she kissed me and I felt her body pressed up against me. My dick, growing larger with each tender kiss, brushed up against her thigh before I grabbed onto her hips and kept her close.
I lathered her up as the suds instantly floated down her soft, womanly body, no match for the water. Her hands rubbed my woodsy-scented body wash all over my body, and I felt her feel every ripple of my chiseled abs. With her hair wet and slicked back she looked up at me with happily glazed eyes, and I almost felt bad about the position I had put us both in. She was a good girl, and I wanted to keep her around for a little while, but how? How could I do something that would benefit both of us and wouldn’t risk my career or company?
With both of our bodies clean, I turned off the water and the two of us began to wipe each other’s bodies down with my fluffy white towels that I was sure were crafted from the softest of clouds. Penelope had no makeup on any longer, but I couldn’t say that I minded. I hadn’t taken a shower with a woman in years and almost forgot what it was like to see a woman without makeup, fake tan, and perfectly straight, silky hair. It was almost as if she were human now and not something else. Something fake.
We both got dressed. I wore a suit and she wore her clothes from last night. She had a new pair of panties, which was slightly peculiar, but I didn’t say a word.
Gustav was waiting for her outside as I opened the front door to the building and we exchanged goodbyes. There was an awkwardness you could easily feel, as neither one of us quite knew what to say to the other. Did I say I’d see her soon? Would I? Did I tell her I’d call her? I didn’t know that I would. I had a good time, but I hadn’t quite figured this out. Did I tell her Sharon would be in touch about the internship? God, I didn’t know.
“I had a nice time with you,” Penelope said.
“Yeah, same here,” I said, with my hands in my pockets.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you around hopefully,” she said, as she started to rock a little back and forth.
“Have a great day,” I said, leaning in and kissing her on the cheek.
“You too, Blake,” she said with a smile before turning around and getting into the car.
I waved like an idiot as she drove away, before turning right back around and going into the garage. Today was an SUV type of day, not an Italian one.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Penelope
A few days had passed since I last spoke to Blake. I wasn’t sure if I should’ve expected to hear from him, but I also wasn’t sure if I was saddened or okay with it. I still hadn’t heard from Sharon or anybody else at the company, and part of me wondered if Blake had something to do with that. Why would he, though? We had an amazing time, and when I tried to leave in the morning he asked me to shower with him. You wouldn’t do that if you weren’t into the person.
I started to look through ads online to find something to pay my bills in the meantime. There weren’t many things that a non-college graduate could actually do in this city that weren’t minimum wage and not so satisfying. I knew I would end up in a restaurant washing dishes or sitting behind some cash register listening to noisy customers bitching at me.
Nicolette had been staying later at work to get done with a new project’s feature that they were trying to get to market sooner than later, which meant I barely even saw her. She didn’t get home until nine or ten and then left again by seven in the morning at the latest. I offered to tell her all about my time with Blake through a text or email, but she said she needed to hear me talk about it myself. Apparently she could tell whenever I lied, so she wanted to make sure I was telling the truth, even though I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried.
“So, he rented out the entire restaurant? The whole thing?” she asked, as we sat in a bar down the street later that night.
“Well, I don’t know about that. I just know that nobody else but the workers were there. I don’t want to make assumptions,” I said.
“Oh please, Penny. He definitely did. You must’ve had a spell on him at the office when you talked to him,” Nicolette said.
“Yeah, well, it must not have been that much of a spell,” I said with a chuckle.
“He still hasn’t called? Not even a text?” she asked.
“Not even a letter in the mail. I know he’s a busy man, he’s a fucking billionaire, but how hard is it to send a text saying ‘hi’?” I asked, taking a sip of my six-dollar margarita.
“Well, I did see him earlier today walking around. He seemed a little off,” Nicolette said.
“Off? How?” I asked curiously.
“Well, just not himself. He looked like he was stressed out or thinking about something. We’re trying to get some things out that I can’t legally speak about, so it could be that,” she said.
“It probably is. It has to be. Oh well. I guess I was stupid for deep down hoping that something would come from nothing. It was a one-night stand,” I said, shaking it off.
“Maybe we just need to find you a guy here to screw,” Nicolette said, as she looked around.
“I don’t think so. No more of those. They cause nothing but trouble and miscommunication,” I said, shaking my hand.
“Well then, maybe I need to find me a guy. Lord knows I need to get laid,” Nicolette said, taking a sip of her drink and scoping the bar out.
I saw her locking eyes with a lone guy on the other side of the bar. They kept glancing at each other, and I saw Nicolette flutter her eyelashes and smile. He motioned for her to come over, and like a lost puppy, she did, leaving her things, including her drink, with me. I hoped she wouldn’t be too loud tonight.
As I sat there waiting for Nicolette to come back, either with that guy or without, hopefully without, my phone buzzed. I didn’t receive many text messages, so when I did I knew it must be important.
I took my phone out of my bag and unlocked it, only to be taken by surprise when I opened the message.
“I hope you’ve been doing well. I know I haven’t been that accessible lately, but I’ve been thinking about something and I would like to see you soon. I think I could take care of some problems,” Blake said.
I was floored as I read and reread his text a few times. What could he take care of? Was it the internship? Did I get it, or was I going to get it? What if sleeping with him got me that opportunity? I admit it seemed a little hookerish, but I needed that internship and in turn, the job it could ultimately lead to. Sometimes you need to know you’re taken care of.
“What do you mean?” I replied.
“Can I meet you tomorrow? I could buy you lunch and explain things a little further,” he replied.
“That sounds good,” I typed back.
“That guy was a dud,” Nicolette said, before picking up her drink and taking a large swig.
“He texted me,” I said bluntly.
“Who?” she asked, looking around.
“Blake. He texted me and wants to take me out,” I said.
“Are you serio
us?” she asked with a look of shock. “When is he taking you out again?”
“Tomorrow,” I said.
“Wow. Two dinners in a week. That’s a good sign, Penny,” she said.
“Well, it’s lunch tomorrow,” I said.
“Oh,” she replied.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing. It’s just that lunch dates usually aren’t that serious, you know? If a guy asks you to lunch on a workday, you shouldn’t get your hopes up. It’s a date more likely to get you dumped than anything,” she said.
“Gee, thanks, Nicolette. You’re really making me just so hopeful,” I said, as I rolled my eyes and sighed.
“I’m sure that’s not what’s going to happen to you, though! He’s just a busy man. It’s probably the only time he can right now,” Nicolette said, obviously trying to backtrack her last statement.
“Yeah, I hope you’re right. Now I’m nervous,” I said.
“Don’t be. It’ll be fine. What’s the worst that can happen?” she asked.
“Um, I get rejected, lose out on this internship, which makes me lose out on a possible job for after graduation, which means I’ll have no money and will have to move out of the apartment and back to Illinois to live with my parents,” I said.
“Oh, shut up,” Nicolette said, motioning to the bartender for more drinks.
“We can’t afford any more drinks,” I whispered.
“Relax, I got it. Besides, it’s necessary. You need it,” she said.
Nicolette came back with two shots of tequila, which I wasn’t too thrilled about. I wasn’t a fan of hard liquor, especially straight up and not mixed, but I almost felt like I had to. I wasn’t a huge fan of social obligations. Not at all.
Nicolette and I hammered the shots before sucking on our limes, which only helped ease the pain a little. I puckered my lips and face so much I thought my eyeballs were going to pop out. Nicolette wanted more, even though I wouldn’t let her.
After about another twenty minutes, mostly filled with me calming her down and telling her she had work in the morning and shouldn’t get shit-faced drunk, we left the bar and walked home, which was a short walk.
We walked up our five flights as I shushed her to be quiet so as not to wake our neighbors before getting inside and getting ready for bed. With a freshly washed face and scrubbed teeth I rolled into my bed with my little blue fan with the green blade spinning at full speed. I always fell asleep the best with some kind of ambient noise unless I was beyond exhausted.
Even though I was tired, I couldn’t help but think of tomorrow and what it would bring. What did Blake have to talk to me about? What surprise did he have for me? Was he going to offer me the internship? I hoped so. That money would be a godsend for me. Not only would it help pay my bills, but it would melt away all my stresses and worries. I’d finally feel like an adult who had her life together.
Knowing I needed to get some rest, I closed my eyes and tried to soften my thoughts as I took a few deep breaths to try to calm myself down. Here’s to wishful thinking.
I had put on a casual outfit the next morning for our meeting. I didn’t want something that screamed business, but at the same time I didn’t want something too casual that said date, especially if he had news for me on the whole internship front. I needed something in the middle, and that was exactly what I had.
Blake had texted me at six this morning saying to meet him at noon down the street from his office at a small café he said he had been to a few times. He never mentioned me being picked up, so I guessed I was on my own for transportation, which was never a fun thing.
I hated being in charge of getting myself around this city. I knew that sounded needy, but it was such a hassle between friends, trolleys, cabs, and ride-sharing apps and services. Walking was a little too far, especially in the cold. I still had a couple weeks before going back to class, though, so that was a bonus in terms of saving money on getting myself to and from class. That was another reason why I wanted this internship more than anything. It counted as credit and I could forego two entire classes without a problem. Imagine being paid to skip out on two classes. As long as I got good marks from the company, I’d get the credit and in turn, my diploma. With that would hopefully come a job offer and I’d be set, unlike some of the people in my classes. I overheard two guys saying they didn’t even know if they were going to graduate on time, and another girl tell her boyfriend that she had no prospects and didn’t even know what an internship was. I had it far better than some people, it seemed.
I sat around on my laptop the entire morning as I waited to leave to meet him. I had gotten ready so early that I almost felt like I screwed myself out of being comfortable. I couldn’t lie back because I didn’t want to wrinkle my clothes, which meant I had to sit up straight like some pageant queen.
After browsing the news and checking my emails for the fifth time this morning, I looked up at the clock and noticed it was ten ‘til eleven.
“Shit,” I mumbled, as I closed my laptop.
I had about half an hour to get to the café, and I wanted to get there a little early just to be on the safe side. Not only that, but I still hadn’t figured out how I was going to get there. Should I call a cab? That would cost a lot, and I didn’t have much to spare, but it would save me from the cold air—especially with how far I’d have to go. I could take the trolley, but they were open-air and once again I’d be faced with the walking dilemma, only with wheels under my feet instead of me moving myself.
After tossing it around for a few minutes and looking outside, I loaded my taxi app on my phone and requested one. It said there was one about five minutes away and it would meet me outside my apartment, which was more than convenient. I guessed I could just put it on a credit card or something. That’s what they’re for, right?
I put on my jacket and shoved my gloves into my pockets just in case. I had gotten trapped with groceries last week and forgot to bring them with me, so I didn’t have much of a fun time carrying bags for five blocks as the cold wind dried out my hands and made them so stiff I could barely get the front door open.
“Out for an interview?” our neighbor, Mrs. Zimmerman, asked as I locked our apartment door.
“Oh, hi there, Mrs. Zimmerman,” I said with a smile. “Just meeting a recruiter for lunch, actually.”
Mrs. Zimmerman was an eighty-year-old widow who Nicolette and I were told had lived in this building for the past thirty years. Neither one of us had even been on this planet for thirty years, so it was crazy to think she was fifty when she came here. She was a sweet woman, though her mind wandered every now and then. Her hair, which was as white as snow and permed, was accented by glasses with a beaded gold chain around her neck to keep them with her at all times. She was definitely the grandmother you always hoped you had as a kid growing up, the kind who would stuff you with cookies and never tell your mom.
“Oh, that’s wonderful, dear! Is it with those computers you like?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, smiling.
“Well, I just know you’ll do wonderfully. Anybody would be lucky to have a beautiful woman such as yourself. You’ll do just great, I know it,” she said, as she watered a couple plants she kept outside her door.
“Thank you so much, Mrs. Zimmerman. I must be going now, a cab is waiting for me outside, so I hope you have a wonderful day. Don’t get into trouble,” I said with a smile, before walking over to the stairs.
“You too, hun., I’ll keep my fingers crossed,” she said loudly, before coughing.
I ran down the stairs before seeing the cab waiting for me outside. Plumes of smoke escaped from the exhaust and a man reading a newspaper sat inside in the driver’s seat. I ran out the doors, almost running into a man walking his dog, before getting into the backseat.
“Where ya going?” the man asked.
“Café Bellagio down in the Financial District,” I said.
The cabbie took off, almost making me fall over, as I
hadn’t yet buckled myself in. He weaved in and out of traffic like a bat out of Hell. Maybe I should’ve just walked.
After about twenty minutes, which was ten shorter than I had anticipated, Raul, as his identification said, dropped me off at Café Bellagio. I swiped my card in the back and paid for his services while leaving him a full twenty-percent tip. I didn’t think he was worth that much, more like ten, if that, but this didn’t look like the kind of man you could stiff on a tip and get away with it.
I got out of the car and walked across the street at the light to get to the café. Before walking in, I took out my phone to both check the time and see if I had any notifications, especially from Blake. I still had about twenty-five or so minutes until he was due to arrive, and no notifications from him or anybody else. He had said he made reservations, but as I walked into the place, I didn’t think that you really could make any.
It was already a little busy, and it seemed to be a seat-yourself type of place. There was no hostess and the busboys and waiters were running all over the place to serve the hungry executives who were packed into the space like sardines.
I walked up to the front where it said “order here,” not knowing if I was even in the right place. The sign and menu said Café Bellagio, but surely Blake couldn’t be talking about this place. I even took out my phone again and went to our messages to double-check, and sure enough, this was the place and address he had given me.
“May I take your order?” a man behind the counter asked as he played with one of the plastic numbers they gave after you ordered.
“Yes, I’m here meeting somebody. He said there was a reservation for us, but I don’t see anyone like a hostess or seater,” I said.
“What’s your name?” the man asked.
“Penelope Wells,” I replied.
“Ms. Wells, it’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Raymond and Mr. Hunter is one of our most valued customers, so any friend to him is a friend to us. There’s a table over there reserved for you both. You’re welcome to sit there until Mr. Hunter arrives. I’ll have somebody bring you some coffee and something to munch on,” Raymond said.