I lean against the wall of the shower, spent again, but it's not enough. I want her again, and not just sexually. She's intriguing, and I want to get to know her. All of her. I want to put my tongue inside her and fuck her senseless, and then ask her all the get-to-know-you questions. I want to spend some time with her in a place where I'm not wearing a uniform. No matter what I think about, I'm filled with a consuming desire to be near her.
I shake my head to clear it, turning off the shower. Things like this don't happen. No one can make a connection that fast-not one that's real. But still, I remember that moment when I turned and saw her. She was ready to spit fire at me and I didn't care because something reached inside me and pulled.
I grab my phone and check the time. Ten-thirty. I wonder what she's doing right now.
More to the point, I wonder if she's thinking about me. If she's touched herself wishing I was there instead of her fingers. My cock likes that thought too much, and I feel myself hardening again. It's like my body is insatiable when it comes to her. I pull on some clothes, trying to ignore the instinct to fall into my memories again.
My phone chimes with an incoming text, and I try to ignore the pang of disappointment when it's not from Vera. Which is ridiculous, since she doesn't even have my number. No, the text is from Mike:
Was the job okay today?
Was it okay? Okay is a fucking understatement. I type out my response:
It was great. I'm going to pummel you the next time I see you for not warning me how hot Vera was.
I see the little bubbles pop up and down as he types:
I did warn you.
I laugh before replying:
Not enough. How's your dad holding up?
Good. We go in the morning for the surgery. Should have a clearer picture of how things look tomorrow night.
Mike's father has heart problems, and last week he went into cardiac arrest. I guess what the problem is can be fixed surgically, or at least they hope. That's the reason I took the job at the Caldwells's in the first place. I try not to take landscaping or caretaker jobs during my construction contracts, but this couldn't be helped. Mike didn't want to lose his spot working their property-they're generous with their employees-so I agreed to fill in for him.
Tell him hello for me, and keep me posted.
Again the bouncing text bubbles.
Will do. And thanks again for doing this.
No problem.
Another wave of tiredness washes over me, and I set my alarm before falling into bed. I need to sleep if I'm going to keep this schedule all week. Of course, the man in me is saying I need sleep so I can have as much energy as possible for Vera. I laugh as I turn out the light. She's certainly a contradiction: a rich and spoiled heiress who works in her own garden and wants to do humanitarian work. She's brazen as hell but I also think she might be hiding something. And I'm going to find out what that is.
In my mind's eye I see her spread out in front of me, back arching as I taste her neck. She tastes amazing. My mind spins outward, imagining the things I could do to her if she was in my bed. I would plunge myself deep inside her, not letting her come until she begged. I would take her ass for the first time, listening to her moan as she felt me claim something no one else had ever touched.
My cock is in my hand again, and I'm squeezing it, stroking it. I imagine the silk tightness of being buried in her ass. I hear the sounds she'll make as she asks me to fuck her harder, and harder, and I imagine the sensation of coming deep inside her. I can see it leaking out slowly. My body tightens, and I'm so close again. My hips are straining off the mattress. My imagination isn't done with me yet as I see her use her mouth on me, sucking my cock clean. I groan as I fall into the white-hot brightness of my orgasm. Pleasure shoots through me from my balls to my brain, and I keep stroking myself as the grip of the orgasm fades. I savor it until it's completely gone.
Earlier today I said that I didn't need any entanglements. I sure fucked that one up. I am very, very entangled.
7
Vera
Finally! Some good news.
I took full advantage of my joblessness this morning and slept in. I'm glad I did, because while I was sleeping I got an email from the Harrison Foundation-the place I applied to last night. They read my resume overnight, loved it, and want an interview the day after tomorrow! I dance around my room like there are clouds under my feet. The weightlessness is freeing and I feel like I can conquer the world. This is a far better morning than yesterday.
I read the email again. They want me to come interview with them, and if everything goes well they'll show me one of their work sites. I email them back, confirming that I would love-love love love-to meet with them. I know I shouldn't get my hopes up, but screw it. Hope is awesome. Hopefully this will be exactly what I need to shove all my father's ‘I-told-you-so's back in his face.
I spend some time digging into the Harrison Foundation, and I like what I find. They do have high-end clients, but they also specialize in helping displaced families build homes. That's so up my alley it's not even funny. I can see myself working for them so clearly, the feeling settling in my chest. I want that.
I suddenly start to get ideas. I pin a new piece of paper to my drafting table and begin to sketch. It's rare that it happens like this, where I just sit and sketch without thinking endlessly first. Architecture doesn't come easily to me, so I know when moments like this happen they have to be taken advantage of. My hands don't stop. I'm not just drawing things for ELIH, but everything from new archways to stairways. Whatever pops into my head is what I put down. I do work on several variations of the ELIH house, changing and perfecting. I think I like the new version even better than the one I had been working with.
My stomach growls when I come out of my haze of inspiration. I look at the clock and am absolutely shocked to see that it's three o'clock in the afternoon. Wow. No wonder I'm hungry. I put on clothes that aren't pajamas. If either of my parents sees me in pajamas at this time of the day there will be hell to pay.
Thankfully no one is in the kitchen as I rummage around in the fridge and make myself a sandwich. My mother would probably prefer I called one of the staff to do it for me-or better yet, make me an actual gourmet meal-but I'm perfectly capable of feeding myself. A flash of blue catches my eye and my stomach drops through the floor. James is outside on the patio, just starting to skim the pool.
My good news and my frenzy kept me from thinking about him, but everything floods through me now. Desire is the first thing that I feel, and then resolve. I have an interview coming up, so now I have even more reason to say no to more sex. But, my mind whispers, there's no harm in just talking. So before I know it I'm carrying my plate out to the patio and the table. James is facing away from me, and I sit down at the table without saying anything. I'll wait for him to notice me while I watch his fantastic ass. If I'm not allowed to touch him anymore, I'm definitely not keeping myself from looking.
I set my drink down on the table and the noise catches his attention. As soon as he sees me his face breaks into what might be the biggest smile I've ever seen. "Hey there."
"Hi."
"I hoped I would see you earlier," he says, fishing out some leaves.
I take a bite of my sandwich, and speak through it. It's totally unladylike. I'm hungry enough that I don't care. "I was working-I got this burst of inspiration, and I kind of forgot to eat."
He laughs. "Well I think we can agree that that's important."
There's a moment of silence as I eat and he works his way around the edge of the pool. When he's closer to me he says, "I thought about you last night."
"Really?" I say casually, not sure if he means that he thought about me, or he thought about me. Suddenly he strips out of his shirt, and I'm not sure if I'm breathing.
"Yes," he says with equal casualness. "Twice, actually."
Oh god. An image pops into my mind of James touching himself, my name on his lips as he spills over. I feel myself blush, and have to take a sip of my water to compose myself. Then he asks, "Did you think about me, too?" and I try very hard not to choke.
My mother chooses that moment to poke her head out of the patio door. "Vera."
"Yes?" I say, trying to breathe.
"Your father has clients coming over for dinner. They'll be here at six. Please make sure you look nice."
I roll my eyes.
"And make sure you don't do that. It's not polite."
"Yeah, I know."
She looks between me and James-who has gone back to cleaning the pool-and gives me a long stare. I know that look; it's a look that says ‘don't you dare.' I pointedly roll my eyes at her again, and she shakes her head and goes back inside. She would come outside right at that moment.