by Laney Kay
I shook my head and kissed the tip of him, told him I wanted him to finish this way, and then went back to it. A few more strokes and he was wild. I could feel his whole body clench and he finally let go with a loud groan. I stayed with him, moving more slowly and gently as he gradually relaxed. One more light lick and a kiss, and I moved up his body and then laid down next to him. His breathing was still loud and harsh and his body lay limp against the bed. I watched him as he recovered, his breathing slowing. Finally his eyes opened and he looked at me and smiled.
I smiled back. “So how was that?”
He raised one hand and rocked it side to side and said, “Eh.”
We both laughed and he rolled to his side and hugged me to him. He smiled into my eyes as he ran his hand through my hair. “Baby girl, that was amazing and you were right, it’ll be much better now that we took the edge off.”
We started kissing and fondling and, within a few minutes, I could feel him getting hard again against my stomach. I smiled and rubbed myself against him as we kissed, and he moved one hand down to see how ready I was. He smiled when he realized I was already wet. “You liked doing that, baby?”
I nodded and gently bit his earlobe then kissed down his neck. “Absolutely. Getting you off is just as exciting for me.” We played around a little more and it got out of hand quickly. He rolled me on my back, got on his knees, pulled my feet up to his shoulders and started to push himself inside me, which fortunately, was getting easier each time. Once he was fully seated inside me, he started moving hard and fast. I writhed against him, but eventually I wanted him deeper, so he dropped my legs down, he draped my knees over his elbows as he put his hands on the bed on either side of my shoulder, and shoved in me as deep as he could go. Wow. He gave me a second to adjust, and then he was pounding in as hard as possible. I could hear myself moaning, and finally I was begging him, and finally I was screaming his name like a crazy woman. Note to self, this is why I don’t live in a condo. I heard him groan this low growl, he dropped my legs, and then finally we were both still, with him on top of me and still inside of me, and me squashed under his weight. We kind of half way dozed under the ceiling fan, both of us too exhausted to move.
He stirred after a few minutes and started to lift himself off me. “You okay? I know I’m heavy, you need me to get off you so you can breathe?”
I pulled him back down and kissed the hollow of his neck. “Nope, I’m just fine. I want you to stay just like this.” He rolled partially up onto one elbow to take a little weight off and cupped my cheek in the other hand as he gave me a gentle kiss. We smiled at each other and stayed that way for a while, just talking and idly touching. I looked at the clock and saw it was eight o’clock.
I groaned. “Damn it. I forgot to feed the dogs when we came in.”
He looked at the clock. “Oops.” When I patted him on the butt to tell him to let me up, he didn’t move. “Wait. I wouldn’t give them anything else. The three of them ate all of those leftover hot dogs and pimento cheese they knocked on the ground. I don’t think they need extra food.”
“I forgot about that. Good point. I just wanted to make sure Diego wasn’t drinking on an empty stomach.”
A few minutes later, we got up to take a shower, which turned into another not-very-useful-but-very-fun shower that required a no contact shower afterward. I pulled on a big t-shirt and he pulled on his shorts, no underwear, as usual, and we went into the kitchen to grab a snack. Apparently, I’d forgotten how an overabundance of sex can work up an appetite.
We decided we weren’t sleepy, so we found “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” on one of the cable channels and settled in with the dogs to watch it in bed. Of course he pulled off my clothes as soon as we got the in the bed, insisting that he’d keep me warm. We both fell asleep right in the middle of Ferris’ big day, and slept for a few hours, until Luke woke me up kissing my neck with his hands busy between my legs. I returned the favor around dawn, and then we both slept until nine, which I honestly don’t think I’ve done since I was six.
True to his word, that was pretty much the whole weekend. He was also right that I could barely walk by Monday. My legs felt rubbery, I had a huge hickey below my collarbone, whisker burn pretty much everywhere, and I felt like I’d been rubbed raw between my legs, but to be fair, I don’t think he was doing any better. I wasn’t complaining. This had been one of the best weekends I’d ever had and every sore spot was totally worth it.
11
We both had to work on Monday morning, so we woke up early, fooled around again, “one more for the road”, as Luke put it, took quick, separate showers, and went into my room to get dressed. I tried on a couple of the outfits the stylist had sent over and let Luke help me pick one out, making sure it covered my hickey, then I put on my usual shorts and tank top, because I didn’t want to screw up my outfit before I got there. Luke and I made breakfast and fed the dogs. I made two to-go cups of iced coffee, packed some stuff in a cooler for my parents, and we were ready to go by 8:30. I told him I was going grocery shopping after my interview and needed to drop off some stuff for my folks, and I’d be home early afternoon. He said he was teaching this morning and then he was going to finish up Laura’s window seat and then he would be back this evening before dinner. We kissed, being careful not to let it get out of hand, and headed out the door.
Atlanta is known for its terrible traffic, and because of it, I didn’t get to Ms. Varnedoe’s house until almost nine, despite the fact that it was only about three or four miles from my house. She has one of those beautiful, restored Victorians that is regularly featured in the annual spring festival and tour of homes. I parked in front and ran up the front steps with my big tote bag over my shoulder, my iced coffee in one hand, and my outfit in the other. I knocked on the door and Ms. Varnedoe opened the door and greeted me with a warm smile as she waved me in. “Hey I’m Bella, so nice to meet you.”
I saw that my coworkers were already inside, and I waved. “Bella, do you have any preference as to where we do the interview?”
She thought about it for a second and then beckoned us to follow her down the hall. “See if y’all think this room would work.” We walked into a huge hexagon-shaped room with windows all the way around and a beautiful view of her manicured rose garden. There was tons of natural light, it was beautifully decorated, and there was plenty of room for the two of us, plus Billy Ray, and Mandy.
Billy Ray looked around. “The room is beautiful and the light should be perfect, Ms. Bella.”
He started setting up his camera and I held up my clothes. “Bella, I’m sorry to impose, but do you have a place I could change.” I pointed down to my shorts and tank. “I can’t be trusted not to spill something on myself before the interview starts.” I heard Mandy try to muffle a snort of laughter, but I ignored her.
Bella grinned at me and pointed down the hall. “Third door on the left.”
As soon as I shut the door, I snatched off my shorts and tank and stuffed them in my tote bag, pulled on my clothes, and then realized I’d forgotten any shoes except for the flip flops I was wearing. Oh well, I guess they’d just have to keep my feet out of the shot.
I rejoined the group, put my tote bag out of the way, and sat down in a folding chair so Mandy could do my makeup. She immediately came over and put a bib over my shirt, but stopped when she saw my feet. I shrugged. “I forgot my shoes, so I’ll just wear my flip flops, no biggie.”
Mandy didn’t say a word. She just sighed, went to her duffle bag and handed me a pair of cute platform sandals in my size that looked great with my outfit. When she bent over to drop them by my feet I kissed her on the cheek and winked at her. “Thanks, Mandy. I guess I’m walking proof that it does take a village.” She rolled her eyes, put on my makeup, Billy Ray wired me up, and Bella and I started talking while Billy Ray did last minute adjustments to his equipment.
“Bella, before we start, is there anything in particular you want to talk about, or don’t want to
talk about?”
Bella wrinkled her nose. “I’d really prefer we not discuss the fact that I have family money or my own charitable giving because I don’t want the focus to be on me. I’m hoping the story would bring some attention to some of the great charitable work that’s going on in Atlanta, and I also want people to get involved with my current project involving hurricane relief.”
“Not a problem. Unless you bring it up, we won’t talk about any of that stuff.”
It was a great interview. Bella was charming and funny, we got along really well, and her story was very interesting. She said she had gotten a degree in advertising and public relations and had worked in that field for several years while her husband, Max, got his construction business off the ground. Over the years, she turned to fundraising for various charities and her husband built some of the tallest buildings in Atlanta. He had just finished the renovations on this house when he died of a heart attack right before they were about to move in about five years ago.
Bella had focused on decorating the house to keep herself busy after his death, and once it was done, she threw herself into her charity fundraising even more ferociously than before. I asked her about her success as a fundraiser, and commented on the fact that she was known in charitable circles as “The Socialite Whisperer.”
She laughed. “Yeah, I’ve heard that. The truth is, I was born in a family with money, so I grew up in this environment so these are my people, and I’m comfortable with these kinds of events. We’re lucky in Atlanta that most of the people who give money to various projects are good, kind people who like to contribute to projects that make a difference, that make the world a better place. I just know how to set up fundraisers so they’re both fun and get the job done.”
“So what are you involved with now?”
“Now, I’m helping to raise money for hurricane relief in Belize.”
“Why Belize?”
“My sister lives in Belize in the winter and she talked me into buying a small condo on the beach in the same complex. After the hurricane, we went down to check out our places, which were pretty much fine, but other parts of the country were devastated. Once we found out that an entire orphanage full of kids had lost their home and school and that there was little clean water for the poor people in the area we live in, I knew we had to do something.”
We were done in a couple of hours and Mandy and Billy Ray left to cover a story about a fire on the south side of town. I had scrubbed my face and changed back into my shorts and tank and went to find Bella to thank her again before I left.
“Daisy, I’m about to make some tea. Do you have some time to hang around for a while?”
“I’d love to. I still have a few questions, anyway.” I followed her into her kitchen as she filled a beautiful, magnolia-shaped teapot with hot water. I grabbed a pad of paper from my tote so I could write notes, and sat down at her kitchen table as she bustled around. She placed loose tea leaves in an infuser and dropped it in the pot, grabbed a couple of matching cups and some lemon, honey, milk, and sweetener, put it all on a matching tray, and set it in the middle of the table to steep.
As we waited, she handed me a flash drive. “This is documentation for your story that I thought you’d find useful. It’s photos and a video of the devastation, plans for the buildings, photos from all of the Belize fundraisers, a tally of how much we’ve collected from each event, and how the money is being used.” The timer dinged, she removed the infuser, put it in the sink, and poured us each a cup of tea. She handed me one as she sat back down across from me and added sugar and milk to her tea. “I always want people to be confident that the proceeds from fundraisers are being used correctly.”
I grabbed my laptop and plugged in the flash drive. When the pictures came up, we started to go through them.
The first few pictures showed a large building that was an almost competed shell. “That’s the orphanage.”
“That’s amazing.” I flipped through a series of several pictures. “You’re almost completely done on the outside.”
She nodded. “We’ve been super lucky with weather since the hurricane, so we’ve been able to get a lot done in a short period of time.” She scooted closer. “May I scroll through and show you some things?” I nodded and she flipped to a view of the back of the building. “See this wing? The local schoolhouse was also destroyed, so we added a wing with school rooms that will service both the orphanage and the surrounding neighborhoods.”
“That’s a great idea. I take it that saved on construction costs?”
“Yep.” She flipped to the next series of pictures. “Check this out.” She showed me a beautiful beach with a huge open lot that backed up to the jungle. “Guess what this is going to be?”
From the looks of the location, I guessed it would be something fancy. “You’re rebuilding a resort?”
She laughed. “Nope. Believe it or not, this is one of the sites for the water treatment plant. It’s actually a desalination plant that can treat seawater to be used for drinking water. This location is perfect because the water can be collected right here. No transport costs.” She then showed me plans for another plant that converted groundwater and rainwater into drinking water and would be located inland.
“Bella, this is amazing. I can’t believe how much y’all have already done.”
She nodded. “We’ve been lucky. We’ve been able to do a lot of this using private funds, so we haven’t had to deal with the local government for anything other than permits, and luckily, those people haven’t given us any problems.” She amended. “Well, just the usual bribes you deal with as a cost of doing business in that area, but at least they gave us the permits.”
“Where did the private money come from?”
“Well, we’ve already had a couple of functions here in Atlanta that raised a good chunk of money, plus we’ve had a couple of functions locally that also did well.”
“I thought Belize was a super poor country. Is it hard to raise money there?” I sipped the tea. It tasted like an Earl Gray, but with something else. Lavender, maybe? Delicious.
“It’s like a lot of Caribbean and South American countries. You have rich folks and poor folks and not too much in the middle. In Belize, about forty percent of the country is very poor, but there’s also a bunch of rich people who live there because the cost of living is low and they can get beachfront property with amazing houses for only a percentage of what they’d pay here.”
Bella clicked through several pictures until she got to pictures of an event where people were very tan and dressed in what looked like expensive resort wear. “Here are the pictures of some local events.” There were pictures of a dance at what looked at a country club on the beach. “You can tell it’s not from here because you know no rich woman in Atlanta would be caught dead in front of a camera with flat hair and no Spanx.”
We both laughed. The next set of pictures were of a group of well-dressed people wearing hard hats and sunglasses and holding ceremonial shovels in front of a large open field. “That’s the ground breaking ceremony for one of the water treatment plants, which was followed that night by a casino night fundraiser.” She identified some of the smiling faces, pointing at each in turn as I recorded the information in my notebook. “That’s Jose Moya, the mayor of Belize City, that guy is the president of one of the local banks, I can’t remember his name, I don’t know who that guy is, that guy is Nicholai Wilson, Watkins, something like that, anyway, he’s in charge of something with the construction, the blonde next to him is his wife, Glynn, not my favorite, and the guy on the right is Darrell Lugo, and he’s the previous plant manager.” She sat back. “It’s important to get these people involved because there are so few resources and there’s a ton of corruption, so if you don’t know the local power people in charge, you can’t get anything done.”
I’m not surprised. We have the same kinds of corruption problems here in Atlanta, but probably on a much lesser scale. I clicked thro
ugh the rest of the pictures, all of them from the casino night party, and I stopped on one. “This is that Glynn chick and her husband?”
Bella looked at the screen and wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Yeah, that’s them. I’ve had a couple of meetings where I had to deal with her. She’s one of those rich chicks who’s only involved so she gets her picture in the paper, and she’s kind of fake and really bitchy.” She shook her head. “I hate having to deal with people like that, but unfortunately, that’s part of any fundraising.” She sipped her tea, leaned forward, and pointed to the husband. “And I don’t know anything about him.”
I’d never seen him before, but the woman definitely looked familiar. Probably because she looked a lot like Gwyneth Paltrow. Well if Gwyneth Paltrow was overly tan, had big fake boobs and lips, and a whole lot of Botox and fillers, that is. I mentally shrugged and put it out of my head as we went through the last of the pictures.
We finished our tea and I packed up my laptop and notebook. “Bella, thanks so much for your time and your hospitality. I really enjoyed today. The segment will be on the end of next week, and I’ll send over a copy before it airs to make sure you’re good with everything. ”
I held out my hand and Bella shook it firmly. “I really enjoyed today, too. Please tell Lola and Sara I said hello, and maybe all of us could get together for coffee.”
“I would love that.” I was serious. Bella was a lovely woman and I’d really enjoyed talking with her. I really liked the fact that she looked like a generic, fancy, Buckhead matron, but was actually very funny and down to earth. She’d be fun to hang out with outside of work.