"That you didn't ask for my life story?" I laugh softly. "So you didn't predict that this would happen. Besides, that's what first dates are for, right?"
Her fingers slide between us, down my stomach. I catch her hand because if she goes any lower my body is going to realize that the night is barely half over.
"So, when?" I ask.
"I have an interview on Thursday. I need tomorrow to prepare."
"Friday it is," I say. "Any food you hate?"
She shakes her head. "No, but I am partial to Italian."
"I'll let you know where." I have the perfect place in mind, but maybe I can think of something else special before everything is set in stone.
"Okay."
We breathe in silence again, and I feel Vera's body relax further. Her eyes are closed, her lips parted. If she's not asleep then she's almost there. It's time for me to go, so I slowly untangle myself from her body, and cover her with as much of the blanket as I can without disturbing her. I find my clothes and put them on.
Shit. How am I going to get out of here? If Vera's that concerned about her family then walking out the front door isn't the best idea I've had. I lean over her and press a kiss to her lips. It works, her body stirring under me. "I need to go, Vera."
Her voice is heavy with sleep. "Why?"
"Because," I say, laughing. "I need a shower, and I need to put my clothes on so I can come back. But how can I leave?"
She points to the window.
"Alarm?" I ask.
"I'm an architect's daughter-disconnected that years ago." She closes her eyes again and snuggles down in her pillow. "But I can't believe you're sneaking out the window."
I kiss her one last time. "Yeah, I'm a big cliché."
It's not a lie, the poor guy falling for the rich girl. And I can't say that I'm not nervous. This could all go very wrong very quickly.
The rational part of me tells me that I should shut up and enjoy the amazing sex as long as I can, damn the consequences. But for some reason this feels bigger than that. I don't want to limit it to just sex, because I like what I see beyond that. And it's something that hasn't happened in a long time.
Using the tree outside her window, I manage to get out of the house. I do feel like a teenager and a total cliché, but it's worth it.
I hope it will be worth it.
I slip off into the dark and head for home.
10
Vera
I wake up to an unexpected breeze on my face. My window is open from when James left through it last night. Just the thought makes me laugh stupidly. I have an interview tomorrow, and … I also have a date. I smile into my pillow, embarrassed by how happy both of those things make me feel. Especially the second one as it seeps through my skin like the sunshine and settles in my stomach.
I have today to prepare my portfolio for my interview with The Harrison Foundation. It's in good shape, but I want it to be perfect. I would love to finish up the design for the ELIH house to show them. But first, my stomach is growling.
Grabbing breakfast is easy, and I catch myself looking for James out the patio doors more than once. But I don't see him. He's spent the last two days close to the house so he's probably working on the farther edges of our property.
That's okay, I rationalize it to myself. I'm more disappointed than I ought to be, but …
It's a beautiful day. No reason I can't work on my design on the balcony. I practically sprint back to my room and grab my smaller, portable drafting table and set it up on the balcony outside our upstairs sitting room. It's the same balcony my mother was sitting on when James and I came so close to being discovered. I glance down at that window and I feel myself flush.
I make another trip back to my room and grab the design and my supplies. This is a great idea. The temperature is perfect, and I avoid the inevitable distraction of going to my window every few minutes trying to catch a glimpse of James. After setting up, I work on the design for a while, smoothing and perfecting it. I include some of what James pointed out yesterday. It's in pretty good shape now, but I probably have another couple hours of tinkering before I'm totally finished.
The door behind me opens and my mother comes out on the balcony. "May I join you?"
"Sure."
She has one of her books with her, and a pen. My mother loves to annotate her books. She's constantly reading anything she can get her hands on. I honestly think reading might be the great love of her life.
"You've been working out here a while. For anything in particular?"
I glance at her sideways to gauge her reaction. "I have an interview tomorrow at The Harrison Foundation. I'd like this to be finished for them."
"That's good news." She's smiling.
"Do you really think that?"
She sighs. "Vera, I want you to be happy, and I want you to do what you want to do. But I also don't think those things are impossible working for your father. After a while, once you have more experience, I'm sure you'll be able to do whatever you want. Wherever you want. He's just worried for you."
"But that's just it," I say. "He's forcing me into this now-what makes you think he'll let me go my own way later? He wants me to run the company."
"Is that the worst thing in the world?"
I think it over for a moment. "I suppose not. But if he saw what I wanted to do with it, he might not feel that way."
Mom tilts her head, a questioning look on her face. "Why?"
"Because," I laugh, "If I ran the company it would be completely different. I would take its resources and invest in other companies. I would focus on building houses for people who can't-" I break off, knowing that this won't help anything. "I've already given you this speech, Mom. You know what I want."
She gives me a smile. "You're still young, dear. I'm sure everything will work out."
"Yeah," I say, stifling a sigh just as I spot a flash of that horrifying blue polo coming towards the house.
James is wearing gloves and carrying giant shears-so he was working on trimming the privacy hedge. No wonder I couldn't see him earlier. The privacy hedge is huge. He glances up at me, and I give him a quick smile before ducking my head back down to my design. I can't do anything. Not with my mother right here.
He disappears into the garden shed, and I draw a few lines before I faintly hear the door open again. Glancing over at my mother, I see that she is engrossed in her book, making a note in the margin. I straighten up, disguising my look as a stretch. James comes around the corner and stops where I can see him. Slowly, seductively, he lifts up his shirt so I can see his abs. His other hand runs across his torso and down, rubbing himself through his jeans.
My mouth goes dry with a combination of panic and lust. Then he turns and it was like he never even stopped. He's heading back out beyond my view and I'm left with my paper and an overactive imagination. I focus my eyes on my drafting table again, ignoring the warm feeling in my pussy. I take a few deep breaths before I set my pencil to paper again. I'm trying to exhale the excess energy that I suddenly seem to be feeling.
Luckily my mother is still engrossed in her book and hasn't noticed the air shift around us. I take my eraser and begin the process of cleaning my lines. I'm a total stickler for clean drafts and I want this to impress. It's slow going and I have to shake out my hand every few minutes because it gets so tense. I'm not even a third of the way done when I see him again.
He pushes the wheelbarrow out toward the house, filled with various landscaping supplies. I can feel his eyes on me from the moment we can see each other. I will not return his look. I will not stare.
Fuck. I looked. Why is this so hard?
I barely resist the urge to bang my head on the table in frustration. He goes into the shed, and I don't think I breathe the entire time he stays in there. What if he does what he did last time? What if my mother sees?
When he comes out of the shed he doesn't look at me, instead crossing the yard. He stops well within view of me, but now my mom would have to turn in her chair to see him. Then he turns and I see why. Every ounce of breath in my body disappears. His jeans are open and his cock is in his hand. I can see even from here that he's hard. When I look up I realize that he is also watching me as he slowly strokes himself. My pussy clenches in response, and I try to swallow but find that I can't. This is insane.
"I'm going to get a drink," I say as casually as I can. "Do you want anything?"
"No, thank you," Mom says, barely looking up from her book.
James is leaning against a tree, eyes closed in pleasure as he touches himself. God, I'm going to kill him. And later, I'm going to fuck him.
Once inside I get downstairs as quickly as possible. I tiptoe outside, trying to keep the patio door silent. I sprint to where James is standing and yank him back toward the house. All the way, until we're pressed up against the wall where my mother won't be able to see us. She could still hear us though.