Authors: Linn Young
Heron opened a bottle of white wine and poured some in glasses.
“So, what’s for dinner? Who’s cooking?” Riley asked. Then she looked at Heron with
wide eyes. “Don’t tell me you are?”
“No, my butler, Canton, is a trained chef. I think the menu is crispy duck, herbed pilaf,
and baby vegetables.”
Heron handed her a glass of wine. Riley jumped a little when his fingers made contact
with hers. He looked at her and she flushed a little. She was already feeling jumpy, itchy, and
tense. It had been over week since they last saw one another, and her body was craving his touch.
She stepped back, sipping her wine, carefully avoiding his eyes.
“How long until dinner?” she asked, making her way down the living room that
overlooked the city.
“Canton said another thirty minutes.” He followed her, watching her take in the city
lights.
When he stood next to her, he brushed the back of his hands along her jaw line. She
turned her head and lifted her eyes to him. When their eyes made contact, it was as if all pretense
of sociability and politeness was swept away, the desire and the almost compulsive need for one
other in their eyes. Riley took a large sip of her wine. Then she let herself lean against Heron’s
body and buried her face in his chest, inhaling the scent of him, which was a combination of faint
tangy aftershave and soap. Heron also took a sip of his glass, before lifting a hand to her long
thick curls, lightly rubbing her scalp and caressing her nape, burying his face in her hair, kissing
it, smelling it. They stood like that for several minutes, not talking, finishing their glasses of
wine, Riley nuzzling her face against his chest, feeling the hardness of his big body against hers,
letting his intense body heat lull her into drowsiness, Heron’s face and hand buried in her hair,
drawing in the smell and warmth of her, feeling the texture of her soft curls against his face and
in his hands.
Heron set their empty wine glasses on a small coffee table. He took Riley’s hand and
drew her down to the couch. He laid back lengthwise and drew her on top of him. Riley laid her
head on his chest and stayed there, his arms around her. His hands stroked all over her, firmly,
warmly, her hair, her back, her buttocks, thighs, arms.
Riley thought how good it felt to have a man touch her all over her body with such hard,
heavy, warm hands. If she closed her eyes for a moment, and pretended that she was not who she
was and the man beneath her was not Heron, then she could fantasize that the urgency of his
hands on her was because she meant something to him, and he meant something to her.
For a long time, they were content to stay in the embrace. She could have remained like
that for ages.
Then, after awhile, Heron lifted Riley’s face to his for a long kiss. He began to undo her
buttons down her shirt, pushed a front panel aside to reveal her breast that was encased in a lacy
low-cut bra. Without ending the kiss, his hand undid the front clasp and cupped the goldentinged globe that spilled out. She moaned beneath his mouth when he brushed her nipple with his
thumb. He lifted his head and looked down, watching as he fondled and squeezed her, teasingly
brushing the tip with his fingers. Riley arched, gasping, and tried to pull his head down,
indicating that she wanted him to take her in his mouth. When he only brushed his lips across the
nipple, she let a feminine growl of frustration. She writhed beneath Heron and tangled her legs
around his and pressed her hips against his. With her hands in his hair, she pulled his lips to her
mouth and began to take long, lazy but firm bites of his mouth, chin, and jaw. Heron shuddered
and his hand pushed down on her buttocks so that his hardness beneath his trousers was pressed
against her pubis. Riley arched her back, her eyes closed and rocked back and forth on his
hardness, imitating their fucking. Giving a low growl of male appreciation, Heron pulled her
head down for another long, heated kiss.
Thirty minutes later, Canton, Heron’s butler and cook, pushed past the swinging door
from the kitchen, carrying a large tray that held dishes of food on his shoulder. He set the tray on
a stand next to the table and laid the dishes that were covered by silver domes on the table. He
then opened the bottle of red wine. He stood back for a moment to make sure that everything had
been set to his satisfaction. Then he turned to summon his master and his guest to dinner.
Canton stopped when he saw Heron and his female guest naked on the floor of the living
room, their discarded clothes strewn all around them. Both were doing a lot of moaning and
gasping, their hands clasping at one another’s body, their lips meeting often for long kisses. His
master was between the female’s legs, which were wrapped around his waist. By the pumping
motion of Heron’s buttocks, it was very clear that the two were in the middle of sex.
For a moment, the butler was in complete shock, and, for a moment, did not know how
he should proceed.
In the fifteen years he had worked for Heron, he had never come across this from him.
Never in his wildest imagination did he think that he ever would. Canton would never have
thought that his master was possible of such blatant indiscretion, even in his own home. Heron
certainly had many other women to his penthouse. A few of the female guests had spent the
night. But the butler couldn’t recall Heron ever displaying any form of physical gestures to a
woman in front of him, even a kiss. He had always been so formal with his female guests in front
of his domestic staff. And that included the beautiful blonde woman who had been his fiancée a
few months ago and was now his sister-in-law.
Suddenly loud cries and groans were uttered by the couple on the floor, snapping Canton
back to the present. He realized he had been staring at the them for several seconds. He opened
his mouth and managed only a hoarse croak. Then he shut his mouth, stared at the two entangled
bodies, closed his mouth again, and walked back out of the living room.
He put the entrée dishes back on the tray and carried the tray back to the kitchen. With
his usual precision and care, Canton stored the uneaten food into containers, wrote out
instructions for each, and put them in the refrigerator. He took his apron off, hooked it neatly on
the wall, then went to his private quarters where he planned to spend a few hours reading before
he went bed, since there was every indication that his master would not need, or want, him for
rest of the evening.
Four hours later, Heron woke up, finding himself naked, his arms around an equally
naked Riley, lying on his living room floor. He felt his stomach growl and felt the gnawing of its
empty chamber. He disengaged from Riley, pulled on his trousers, and padded barefoot into the
kitchen. There, on the butcher’s table, he found Canton’s neatly written instructions, telling him
that he would find his dinner in the refrigerator. He warmed the food as instructed, put them on
the tray as well as wine and glasses, and carried it back into the living room, setting it on the
floor.
Heron was well into his second helping of the crispy duck when the aroma and her own
growling stomach awoke Riley. Drowsily, she took in his nearly empty plate and the food on the
tray. She rose to a sitting position, and unabashedly stretched, raising her arms high above her
head and yawning widely in front of Heron without bothering to cover her mouth. He stopped
chewing and watched her, a little taken aback, then his mouth split into a wide smile, for some
reason, finding himself laughing.
“Did we ruin your butler’s dinner?” she asked lazily.
“No, it’s quite good.”
“Mmmm, it smells good.”
Riley reached for her silk camisole and pulled it over her head. Then she crawled on her
hands and knees to food tray. With her back to Heron, she stayed on all fours while filling her
plate with food, giving him a full view of her bare buttocks. He stared it for a moment, his gaze
lingering on her closely cropped black bush and the pink slash of her flesh that her position
afforded.
He said with almost casual observation, “You would do well to behave yourself if you
don’t want to find yourself going without any food until tomorrow. And, as understanding as
Canton was when he must have come across us in flagrante, I don’t think he’d be equally so if he
found tomorrow the food soaked all over this carpet.”
Riley looked back at him and gave him a cheeky smile. Then she turned to a sitting
position, carrying her plate, demurely folding her legs under her. Heron continued to watch her
as she ate the food with great enjoyment, his eyes hooded a little, slightly curious, detecting an
impish glint in her hazel eyes. He knew that she was aware the picture she presented to him,
sitting in front of him with just her camisole on that barely covered her generous breasts, her legs
tucked under her, bare from the waist down, affording him the view of the black triangle between
her closed thighs, all the while she ate her belated dinner, holding the plate in front of her, a
shield between her and him.
If he hadn’t been so sated with sex and food, Heron would have made a grab for her. As
it was, his penis was partially hard, the heat in his loins a dull throb instead of raging with
tension. And he was content for the moment to sit on the floor and watch her, leaning his head
against the couch, his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles, drinking his wine,
enjoying the rare moment of being in each other’s company without the demanding drive to bury
himself deep inside her.
The next morning, Riley was in the foyer of Heron’s penthouse, dressed, her small
overnight bag standing next to her, as she waited for Heron’s driver, Dustin, to drive her back to
Santa Rosa.
While she was carefully putting her red lipstick on in the hall mirror, Heron came down
the stairs dressed for work. At the bottom of the stairs, Canton stood with Heron’s overcoat and
briefcase.
“Tell Dustin I’ll ride in the same car with Ms. Calderon to work. From there, he can take
Ms. Calderon home,” Heron instructed.
Canton helped him into his coat. “Very good, sir.” The butler exited through the kitchen.
As Heron walked towards her, Riley looked over him and her breath caught in her throat.
He was dressed in an all black double-breasted suit over a olive green-taupe shirt with dark tan
silk tie with tiny black polka dots. The black attire emphasized even more his striking good
looks, putting the clean lines of his face and his tall lean body into sharper relief. Heron literally,
standing before her, was quite breathtaking.
“You’re devastating,” she murmured, awe in her voice.
Heron frowned, not quite sure he had heard right. “I beg your pardon?”
Riley had not meant to say what she did and flushed a little when she realized she did.
Then she gave a rueful smile, now laughing at herself, shaking her head a little. “I could fall head
over heels in love with you.”
Whatever response she expected from him, it wasn’t his face turning white and frozen.
For a few seconds, there was a painful, awkward silence between them. It was broken when
Canton re-emerged from the kitchen.
“Dustin will be a moment with the car, sir.”
For a few miles, they rode in silence as Heron’s driver, Dustin, drove the limousine
through the busy city. Riley was staring out the window, idly watching the people rush to work.
Now that she had some time to think about her words to Heron, she wondered what possessed
her to say them. At the moment, she thought she had been jesting. But now, she realized it was a
bad judgment call on her part.
“Did you mean what you said, back there?”