Текст книги "Mid-Life Love"
Автор книги: Whitney Gracia Williams
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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 26 страниц)
I pulled into the towing lot and parked right outside the holding office. Claire hastily unbuckled her seat-belt, but I reached over and put my hand over hers.
“Wait here. I’ll have them pull it out front for you. It’s the least I can do.”
I walked inside the small building and the receptionist blushed. “How can I help you today, sir?”
“I’m here to retrieve a car that was towed about a half hour ago from Jennifer Drive. It’s a light gray—”
“Audi Q7?” She pulled a folder from the shelf above her desk. “My records say it was parked in a zone without a proper parking pass. Statham Industries must be an awful place to work, huh? We tow at least ten cars a day from there.”
“Yes, it’s a horrible place. How much to get the car out?”
“Three hundred and fifty dollars.”
That’s ridiculous...Do my employees really have to pay that much every time?
I handed her my credit card and she had me fill out a few pages of paperwork.
“I’ll have it brought out in a second.” She disappeared.
When I walked back outside, Claire was leaning against the hood of my car with her arms folded above her head. Images of her lying like that in my bed, on my shower bench, and on my yacht quickly flashed through my mind.
The things I would do to her...
“How much do I owe you?” She sat up, frowning.
“Nothing, except our date that we’ll be discussing at your birthday party.”
“I don’t think so. I’m fine with you coming to my birthday party, but after what happened today, I’m not going out with you.” She suppressed a smile. “I mean it.”
“We’ll discuss it on Friday.”
Out the corner of my eye, I saw her car rolling through the lot. As it moved closer, I heard a strange popping sound and then I saw the problem: Both of her back tires were shredded; they looked like rubber shingles.
“Are you kidding me?” She rushed over as a scruffy guy stepped out of her car. “Why do my tires look like that? They were perfectly fine thirty minutes ago!”
He shrugged and tossed her the keys. “I just pull the cars around. I don’t ask questions ma’am.”
“How am I supposed to get home in this?” She was fuming now, and I could tell she was trying her best not to slap him. “Why would you deliberately slash my tires? Towing the car wasn’t enough?”
“Well ma’am, we do sell tires here if you’re interested. We currently have a free installation promotion if you buy—”
“Shut the fuck up.” She shook her head. “And get away from me. Right now.”
He backed away from her with his hands raised in defeat. He pulled a “tire sale” flyer from his pocket and slipped it to me before disappearing.
“I’m sorry about your car—again.” I waited for her to look at me. “I didn’t know that they—”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll just remember not to park my car in the ‘nine to five only’ zone from now on. Are you going to prevent me from calling a cab this time too?”
“Why don’t you drive my car home? I’ll have yours taken to a body shop and have it back at corporate for you tomorrow.”
“What?” She looked confused. “You’re offering to let me drive your—” She looked over at my car and shrugged. “What type of car is that?”
I smiled. “It’s a Bugatti.”
“Right. And you’re taking my car to a body shop? What’s the catch? You think doing that will make me go out with you?”
“No catch. I think you’ve suffered enough disappointment for one day. That’s all.”
She studied me for a minute, looking into my eyes as if she were contemplating my offer. “I don’t want to feel like I owe you anything because of this...I’ll just call one of my friends to come get me. I’m sure—”
“There’s no catch, Claire. I’m just trying to be nice to you. Can you let me be nice to you?”
She still looked unsure, but she nodded.
“Good. Park it in lot eight tomorrow morning and leave the keys inside. I’ll park yours in lot nine and leave your keys with security.”
She grabbed a few things from her car and handed me the keys. “You sure you’re okay with letting me drive your car? Wouldn’t it be easier for you to drive me home?”
“As much as I would like to take you home, Claire...” I smiled. “I’m sure you probably think that would be inappropriate.”
She blushed. “You’re exactly right.” She slipped inside the driver’s seat, locking her eyes on mine for a few seconds before finally driving off.
I pulled out my phone. “Greg? Yes. I’m at 3465 Jefferson Street. I need a tow truck and a town car...And could you get Mr. Lane from Parking Security to call me within five minutes? I need to make an immediate change to the employee parking policy.”
I watched my Bugatti ease onto the interstate ramp from afar and sighed.
I’ve never let anyone drive that car...
Chapter 5
Claire
I woke up on my fortieth birthday feeling no different than the day before. There was no “aha-moment,” no feeling of dread, no sense of uneasiness. Nothing.
I rushed to the mirror to make sure Mother Nature hadn’t decided to throw wrinkles and creases on my face all at once—to make sure she wasn’t trying to play some cruel joke on me.
She didn’t, and she wasn’t.
I prepared for work like I always did, trying my best not to think about how sexy Jonathan Statham was or about his sleek black Bugatti that was parked right outside.
I slipped into my favorite white dress and matching blazer; I’d always admired how the ruffles flattered my curves and made my waist look two sizes smaller.
I read the birthday cards my daughters left on the kitchen table and rejoiced at the fact that they’d bought a cake from the store instead of attempting to bake one.
I was sure I would never get the chance to drive a Bugatti again, so I took the long way to work. I coasted through the residential neighborhoods, cruised past a few parks, and circled around corporate five times before pulling into the executive lot.
“Miss Gracen?” My assistant Rita met me as soon as I walked inside the doors.
“Yes?”
“First off, Happy Birthday! Second off, the Klein brothers specifically requested you to lead the ad project for their new eco-tablets. Should I tell them you’ll be available to do that?”
“Yes. That’s fine.”
“Great.” She scribbled a few things on her pad and struggled to keep up with my walking pace. “Mr. Barnes is out sick today; his wife called from the hospital. That leaves you to work with the beta script team this afternoon.”
Perfect...
“Anything else?” I pushed the door to my office open.
She and I both gasped. My office was filled with bouquets of calla lilies and roses, with white and pink balloons that completely covered my wall of windows.
Wow...
“I’m not sure when all this got here...” She scratched her head. “Anyway, I need your notes on this year’s proposed budget as soon as possible, and Mr. Statham booked a thirty minute meeting with you at eleven o’ clock.”
“What? What was that last thing you said?”
“Mr. Statham wants to meet with you at eleven o’ clock—in his office.”
About what?
“Is that all?”
“No,” she said. She pulled a small pink card off her clipboard. “Happy Birthday again, Miss Gracen. You’re way better than the last director I worked for. I really mean that.”
“Thank you, Rita.”
I moved a vase of lilies from my chair and flipped open the silver card that sat on top.
Claire,
I hope you’re enjoying your birthday. I’m looking forward to spending part of it with you tonight.
—Your completely immoral and highly inappropriate Boss,
PS: You’ve looked stunning every day this week...
I was flattered but I didn’t have time to wonder about why he’d sent so many flowers, and I knew I wouldn’t have time to meet with him; I had too much work to do.
From eight o’ clock to nine o’clock, I made sure everyone in the department was on task and supervised the interns’ brainstorming meeting. I even managed to spare a few extra minutes to get ahead on some of Mr. Barnes’ past due assignments.
From nine o’clock to ten o’ clock, I conferred with the art directors about “sPhone blue” visuals, sat in on a conference call with the national marketing committee, and started reading the proposed expense reports for our eco-tablet campaign.
At ten fifty five, my phone rang.
“Claire Gracen. Who am I speaking with?”
“Miss Gracen, this is Angela, Mr. Statham’s secretary. I’m looking at his schedule and I see that he requested a meeting with you today. Are you on your way up?”
I have two hundred pages to read...
“No, Angela.” I flipped over a sheet of paper. “I am not. Could you please inform Mr. Statham that while I do accept last minute appointments from clients, all internal personnel—even my own superiors, have to schedule their appointments at least twenty four hours in advance. That’s company policy as of sixty days ago. He’s the one who sent out the memo, so he should know that.”
The line went silent. I was sure not too many people rejected a meeting with the CEO.
“I um...” She coughed. “I will let him know that, Miss Gracen. Have a great day.”
“You too.” I hung up.
I continued looking over the expense reports, making small notes here or there. I was halfway done when I heard a knock at my door.
“I don’t want anything for lunch, Rita! Thank you though!”
The door opened and in walked Jonathan.
He smiled as he shut the door. “Good morning, Miss Gracen.”
“Hello, Mr. Statham...” My mouth went dry and my body tensed at the sight of him. He really was a pure example of what a perfect man should look like. He was dressed in an impeccable black suit with a white button-down shirt, and shiny silver cufflinks that gleamed against the light.
His eyes were regarding me intensely, and I knew that he was slightly running his tongue across his lips on purpose.
He sat down in the seat across from my desk and smiled even wider. “How are you today?”
“I’m quite fine, and yourself?”
“Pretty good. You know, I don’t normally get scolded by an employee, but it’s refreshing to know that there are other policies that need to be changed.”
I didn’t say anything. My heart was beating too fast and I didn’t want him to sense that I was completely captivated by him.
Think about his age...Think about his age...
He put his elbows on the desk and leaned forward. “You couldn’t spare thirty minutes for me?”
Take a deep breath, avert your gaze to the wall behind him, and clear your throat...
“Mr. Statham—”
“You really don’t have to call me that when we’re alone.”
My breath hitched at the way he’d said “alone” and I took another deep breath.
“I feel more comfortable calling you that since this is, and will always be, a strictly professional relationship. And no, I could not spare thirty minutes. Our head director called in sick today, and since I have to handle his reports as well as my own, I don’t have much free time.”
“Fair enough,” he said as he looked into my eyes. “I just wanted to personally return your car keys.” He placed them on my desk. “And tell you Happy Birthday in person.”
“Well, thank you very much and I appreciate all the flowers. Your spiel only took three seconds though, so there was no need for a thirty minute time slot. If you don’t mind, I need to finish my reading now. Have a great day, Mr. Statham.” I looked back down at my work, hoping he would say “You too” and leave my office, but I sensed him standing up and walking over to me.
I tried my best to act like he wasn’t in the room, to stay focused on the document I was reading, but I felt him hovering right behind my shoulder.
“Claire...”
I slowly turned my head and looked up at him. “Yes?”
He was silent.
He reached down and ran his fingers through my hair—slowly and gently, making my heart beat ten times faster. He leaned in like he was going to kiss me—tilting my chin up so my lips could touch his, using his other hand to caress my neck, but then he suddenly stopped.
He stepped back and sighed. “What time does your birthday party start tonight?”
“Nine...” I could barely hear my own voice.
“Well, I have a last minute meeting tonight so I might be really late. I’ve been looking forward to it all week.”
Silence.
I looked into his eyes and he looked back into mine. There was palpable tension in the air and I wanted him to slice through it. I wanted him to step back over and kiss me until I was out of breath, to rip my clothes off and—
His cell phone started to ring, breaking us out of the spell.
“Hello?” he answered, keeping his eyes on me. “Yeah...by noon on Monday. Okay...Okay, I’ll be right there.” He headed for the door. “I’ll see you tonight?”
“Yes...” I waited until the door closed and slipped out of my chair.
I stood in front of the bathroom mirror at Havana and tugged at the end of my dress. It was a red haltered dress that ended near the middle of my thighs and accentuated my breasts—the type of dress I would prevent my daughters from wearing until they were twenty one.
“You don’t think this makes it look like I’m trying too hard, Sands?” I turned around and frowned at the low deep cut in the back. “This is a bit revealing...”
“Trying too hard to do what? You look good, Claire! If I had your legs, I would show them off all the time. Is your boss still coming?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. He said he had a late meeting.”
“Well, I hope he comes. I have to see the man that makes you blush.”
“He does not make me blush!”
Sandra pursed her lips and gave me her “whatever you say” look. It still shocked me that she’d never found someone to settle down with. She was pretty, had her own practice, and seemed to charm every man she met. Unlike me, she’d embraced her age—forty one, and swore that she’d rather be forty than twenty any day.
“Are we going to stand in here all day, Claire? You know Helen can only sit by herself for so long.”
“Right.” I looked myself over one last time and followed her back out into the lounge.
We walked over to our reserved table, but Helen wasn’t there.
A man in a white tuxedo stepped in front of us. “Are you ladies a part of Claire Gracen’s party?”
“Yes. I’m Claire Gracen,” I said.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Gracen. Come with me.” He smiled. “We’re sorry we didn’t upgrade your table as soon as you arrived. Please forgive us.”
I shrugged my shoulders at Sandra and followed the man onto a glass elevator, up to the balcony level that overlooked the marble stoned dance floor.
He led us over to a luxurious VIP table in a corner where Helen was downing a Cosmo and smiling.
“I told you two not to spend that much money for my birthday.” I sat down, looking back and forth between her and Sandra. “Why would you—”
“You think either of us would spend thousands of dollars on a VIP table for one night?” Helen scoffed. “I think they mixed your name up with someone else’s, but I’m going to drink as much as I can before they figure that out.”
“Me too!” Sandra picked up a glass. “Cheers to Claire for finally joining the forty club! The best club there is!”
We clinked our glasses together and laughed.
As we talked, the waiters continued refilling our glasses and bringing over trays of delicious h’ordeuvres—insisting that we try out the exotic specials that were only available at the bar across the room.
I kept asking them about the price of the drinks and the amount of the tab, hoping it wouldn’t be too much at the end of the night. Yet, each time I asked, they would laugh and say, “Don’t worry. It’s been more than taken care of.”
“So, last week I had sex at the zoo.” Helen put down her drink. “I think I could have lived without that one. I’m not sure if being pounded right in front of the giraffe exhibit was as exciting as I thought it would be.”
I spluttered my drink back into the glass. “Could we not talk about your sex life for one day? Just one?”
“Oh Claire honey, what’s wrong? Are you still suffering from ‘dick withdrawal syndrome’? It’s okay. It only lasts for as long as you let it last. Although you should know that you’re currently in your sexual prime. Seeing as though you haven’t had sex since—God, I can’t even think back that far so—”
“Okay, Helen. You’ve made your point.” I sighed. “Tell us the damn story.”
“Gladly.”
I sat and listened as Helen went into detail—way into detail, about how she and some associate of hers had snuck into the zoo after hours and had sex on the bench right in front of the Desert Animals exhibit. I wasn’t sure what part I should’ve been more appalled at—the fact that she actually had late night sex in a zoo, or the fact that the animals walked over to the fence to watch.
“Oh my god!” Sandra’s jaw dropped. “Don’t immediately look behind you, but the sexiest man I’ve ever seen just got off the elevator. He looks really important...I wonder if he’s a celebrity.”
I noticed the women at the table behind us gasping and whispering, so I slowly turned around to see who they were talking about: Jonathan.
He was nodding his head as the manager handed him a business card. He shook the man’s hand as he looked towards our table.
Our eyes met and my heart sped up; my nerves were running uncontrollably and my body felt like it was on fire.
I turned back towards Sandra. “That’s him,” I whispered.
“Him who?”
“Good evening, Claire.” Jonathan was at my side seconds later.
“Good evening, Jonathan...” I swallowed and felt myself blushing. “Umm, this is Sandra and this is Helen.”
“Good evening, ladies.” He smiled.
“Good evening.” They both practically swooned.
“Am I the only guy here?” He looked down at me.
“Yes...”
“Okay. I’ll be right back.”
He walked over to the bar, and once he was out of earshot, Sandra slapped my shoulder. “That’s your boss? Your description didn’t do him justice at all! Screw the age thing, Claire, he’s sexy as hell.”
“Is he single?” Helen eyed him.
“He’s taken.” Sandra wagged her finger. “Claire’s dating him.”
I’m not dating him!
“Well, about time! Welcome to Cougar-town!” Helen laughed and took a long swig of her drink.
On any other night, I would’ve replied to her silly little remark, but it was my birthday and I didn’t feel like letting her get to me. Besides, I wasn’t a real “cougar,” she was. She hardly ever dated anyone her own age. The oldest boyfriend she’d ever had was twelve years younger than her—when she was thirty five.
“Screw you, Helen.” Sandra rolled her eyes. “You better not say anything ridiculous when he gets back over here.”
Helen made a “scouts honor” symbol with her fingers, and as if on cue, Jonathan walked back over to the table with a tray of exotic drinks.
“Cheers to the birthday girl?” He smiled.
We all nodded and tossed back a shot.
He slid into the chair next to me and placed his hand on my thigh.
I immediately felt myself getting hot, so I brushed his hand away and crossed my legs.
Why did I let Sandra talk me into going commando tonight?
“So Jonathan...” Helen purred. “What exactly do you do for a living?”
She knows the answer to this already...Why is she asking him that?
Jonathan put his hand back on my thigh. “I’m the CEO of Statham Industries. And yourself?”
“Interesting! I’m a lawyer at my own law firm, Donovan and Fitz. It’s actually one mile away from your company. How did you become the CEO at such a young age?”
“I started the company when I was still in college. It was just a side thing at first—charging people twenty or thirty bucks here or there to install all types of systems on their phones or laptops, but then I realized that I could build phones and computers from scratch; that I could do a much better job than some of the bigger computer companies. So, my professor helped me to write up a business plan and I showed off the best products I’d developed. Then I got a few investors and professors on board with the condition that I would be the CEO and the company’s namesake. I made a profit the very first year and the rest is history.”
Wow...
“Very impressive.” Helen nodded. “It must be a pretty hectic life. What do you do in your free time, and why aren’t you married already? I’m sure someone like you has lots of beautiful options to choose from.”
What the hell is she doing?!
I was glaring at her, silently begging her to stop making him uncomfortable, but he didn’t look the slightest bit bothered by her insane questioning. He looked calm and in control.
He began strumming my thigh with his fingertips. “I work out, travel, and collect yachts in my spare time.”
Did he just say “yachts”? As in plural?
“And the reason you’re not married yet is because? Are you too rich to be tied down? Having too much fun sleeping with a different woman every night?”
God, please strike her down now...
Sandra was giving Helen the most evil side-glare in history. It looked like she was about to claw her eyes out.
“No...” He smiled. “That’s definitely not it. I guess I haven’t found the right woman yet.”
“Okay, I’m going to the bar to get a stronger drink.” Sandra shook her head.
“I’ll get it for you.” Jonathan released my thigh and stood up. “A stronger version of what you had before?”
Sandra nodded.
“Helen, you too?”
“Yes.” She batted her eyes.
“Claire?” He smiled his dreamy smile and I lost my words.
I shook my head and he walked away.
“Helen! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Sandra fumed. “I told you not to—”
“Calm down, calm down.” Helen snorted. “I was just having fun. He’s clearly into Claire. He’s been eye fucking her all night.”
“Helen!” I shook my head.
“Don’t Helen me! It’s the truth. He’s eye fucking you right now, from all the way over there. And you’ve been doing it too so get over yourself. You two should just get it over with. The private bathrooms here are really nice. Hint, hint.”
I burst into laughter. I should’ve known Helen was only toying with him. She too often took pleasure in testing the threshold of people’s nerves.
Jonathan walked back over and set down more drinks. “Golden Paradise for you Sandra.” He slid it across the table. “Triple chocolate cloud for you, Helen. And for you,” he said as he reached for my hand, “would you like to dance with me?”
“Sure.” I slid out of my chair and clasped his hand.
He led me down two sets of stone carved steps, to the front of the stage where an orchestra was beginning to play.
He placed my hands around his neck and wrapped his arms around my waist, swaying me to a song I’d never heard before. We were so close to one another that I was breathing in his scent—a heavenly spicy smell that enveloped me and made me never want to let go of him.
“How was your day today, Claire?”
“Good. Yours?”
“Awful.” He pulled me even closer. “Until now.”
I really should have worn panties...
“You know, I could’ve sworn that my car didn’t have customized leather seats and tinted windows when I gave it to you the other day.”
“It didn’t?” He smiled.
“No...Thank you very much though. And I appreciate the table upgrade too.”
“You’re very welcome.”
The lights on the dance floor suddenly went black, and small twinkling lights began to shimmer from above.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s officially midnight!” the maestro spoke. “For those of you who are new to Havana, the next ten minutes on the dance floor will be spent underneath the stars!”
The lights transformed from black to dark purple, to mystic blue and then back to black as the orchestra began to play a mid-tempo version of Nora Jones’ “The Nearness of You.”
“You look amazing tonight.” Jonathan rubbed the small of my back.
I could only nod my head in thanks; that one brush of his fingertips had nearly melted me into the floor.
We continued dancing in silence, and I noticed that the lights were dimming darker and darker; the twinkling stars that were once so bright were flickering fainter and fainter.
As he held me close, I couldn’t help but feel a bit insecure. I knew Helen had only been joking earlier, but she had a point: Someone like Jonathan could definitely have any woman he wanted—a busty blond Swedish supermodel, a sexy high profile actress, anyone. Anyone more established—and probably much younger, than me.
“Do you normally wear dresses like this when you go out?” He tugged at the back of my dress.
“Why?”
“I’m just wondering.”
“Wondering why someone my age would wear something so revealing? Is that what you thought when you first saw me tonight? You don’t have to beat around the bush.” I rolled my eyes.
He sighed. “Are you really that hung up on your age?”
Unfortunately yes...
“No.” I looked up at him. “I just find it a bit odd that you aren’t. I’m not sure what to make of it yet, and the fact that you just asked me about my dress makes me think—”
“Do you want to know what I was thinking when I first saw you tonight, Claire?”
“Yes...”
“You want an honest answer or a politically correct one?”
“Honest.”
“Okay.” He released me from his arms and stepped away.
Before I could wonder where he’d gone, I felt my back pressed against his chest and his hands wrapped around my hips.
“When I first saw you tonight,” he lowered his voice and whispered in my ear, “I wanted to drag you out of here, drive you home, and fuck you in every room of my house for the rest of the weekend.”
I gasped.
“The only reason I asked about your dress is because it looks good on you—very very good on you, and if we were to date I would hope to see more like it.” He hugged me tighter. “So, can you please stop reminding me about the age thing? I honestly wouldn’t give a damn if you were sixty.”
I nodded and tried to turn back around to face him, but he wouldn’t release me.
He started caressing my thighs. “Can you promise me you’ll drop the age thing?”
“Yes...”
“Good. Because it doesn’t matter to me.” He swayed me to the music and began planting kisses along my bare shoulders.
Every kiss sent a tremor down my spine, a new fluttering butterfly against my stomach.
“Are you still free tomorrow?” he whispered.
I didn’t answer him. It’d been so long since someone affected me like this and I didn’t want his barrage of kisses to stop.
“Claire?” He kissed the back of my neck and slid a hand underneath my dress.
He must’ve realized I wasn’t wearing any panties, because his hand stilled right where the lace band should’ve been. He kissed my neck again and slowly slid his fingers down lower.
I could feel the dampness between my thighs and I heard him fail to stifle a groan.
I’m never going commando around him again...
“Answer me, Claire...” He pushed one finger inside of me and torturously moved it in and out.
Say yes...You are still free tomorrow...
He pushed two fingers inside of me, holding my body completely still with his other arm. He kept his punishing rhythm at a steady pace, kissing my bare shoulders and whispering my name—waiting for an answer.
“This is our last midnight song ladies and gentlemen,” the maestro said as the horns began to play. “After this, we will be switching back to our in house DJ and turning on the lights.”
Jonathan slowly pulled his fingers out of me.
I thought we were going to dance to the final midnight song, but he began using his thumb to massage my clit. Then he pushed his two skilled fingers in and out of me again.
Oh my god...
His pressure was perfect. His rhythm was relentless. I was sure I was going to explode in any second if he didn’t stop.
“Mr. Stath—”
“Jonathan.” He kissed my shoulder.
“I...I...” My breath caught in my throat. “Stop...”
“Not until you answer my question.” He slipped his other hand underneath my dress and once again stalled when he realized I wasn’t wearing a bra. He cupped each of my breasts, softly pinching my nipples, pushing me further to the edge.
I said yes...
“The song is going to go off any second, Claire, but I’ll hold you right here—just like this, with the lights on until you answer me.” He was rubbing my clit even harder—faster, and I felt intense tremors building inside of me.
“Yes.” I bit my lip to prevent myself from crying out. I didn’t want any of the other people around us to know what was going on.
“Thirty seconds until we speed things up again!” The maestro’s voice was muffled.
“Yes what?” He continued his rhythm, continued caressing my breasts, and I couldn’t hold back anymore.
I exploded in waves around him—shuddering and convulsing, biting down on my lip so hard it was probably bleeding. My knees nearly gave out, and it took every bit of energy I had to not collapse into his arms.
“Yes...I’m...free to go out tomorrow.”
“Good.” He withdrew his fingers and spun me around. He pulled the bottom of my dress down and grabbed my hand, leading me past the stage.
He led me into a private restroom and locked the door.
Helen was right—they were nice, too nice. There was a wall length antique mirror that covered the entire left wall, a rustic chandelier with glimmering emeralds, and a sofa and chaise covered in plush red velvet.
If Jonathan had been any other man, I would’ve immediately started berating him for what he did to me on the dance floor. I would’ve said it was rude and offensive and that I would never speak to him again. But he wasn’t any other guy and I couldn’t deny that I loved every second of it; I was still entranced.
He took a white cloth from over the sink and ran warm water over it for several seconds. He pulled me over into a corner and slid my dress up past my hips.
“Spread your legs,” he whispered.
I slid my legs apart and looked into his eyes as he gently wiped the inside of my thighs. He moved his way up in a slow sensuous motion that nearly sent me over the edge again.
I tried coming down from the intense high I was feeling, but the look he was giving me was preventing that from happening. He grabbed another cloth—a dry cloth, and caressed me with it until I was completely dry.
We kept looking into each other’s eyes and I thought he was going to say something—or kiss me, but he simply smiled and reached for my hand.
“Are you ready to rejoin your friends now?”
I nodded.
He gave my hand a slight squeeze and walked me back upstairs to our table. As soon as we arrived, he offered to take another drink order for Helen and Sandra.
“So?” Sandra smiled. “Is your boss a good dancer?”
“He’s very good...” I picked up my mojito and chugged it.
She raised her eyebrow but she didn’t say anything further. She and Helen filled me in on two men they’d met during the midnight dance, but I was only halfway listening.
I was still hypnotized by Jonathan’s touch and honestly wished that it hadn’t ended so soon.
