Black Widow (39 page)

What the fuck?

I squeeze my now sweaty palms together and try to calm my breath. I have no clue what just happened. Shaking my head, I take a deep breath and tilt my head back in her direction.

Whoa…

Her hair lies long past her shoulders and falls down straight, splitting over her left breast. It’s straight, dark auburn in color and shinier than the punk rock, greasy haired people in the club. She looks to be in her early twenties with a slender face and a long, bare, sexy neckline. Her cheeks are lightly blushed with color and her pale, pink lips are making me want to bite her pouty bottom lip.

Her jeans are torn in just the right places and she’s wearing a black, fitted tank top that reads Unwritten Law with a red heart around the words and her red bra straps showing through. She’s trying hard to fit in the punk scene, but her black Christian Louboutin red bottom high heels are a dead giveaway. I look down, laughing to myself again at my choice of wearing my Gucci sneakers to a rock show.

I catch a glimpse of her again and my lips start to quiver as I watch her hold a drink up to her lips, taking a sip with the little black straw. My lips part, like I have no control over them whatsoever, as she holds the straw in her hand, twirling it around her tongue and sipping it like she’s playing a taunting game with my head, or my dick I should say.

I can’t take my eyes off of her as I watch her take another sip of her drink and dance slowly to the music. Just as I realize I’m totally staring at this chick, Mark hits my arm, motioning to go get a drink. I follow him as he walks to the L shape, New Orleans style bar that runs the length of the floor.

Mark leans up against it trying to get the bartender’s attention shouting, “Two beers!”

The bartender hands the beers to Mark who swings around handing me one. I nod in appreciation as we click the necks of the bottles and take a drink.

Looking over the neck of the bottle, I search for her again. Once I find her, I can’t help but stare in her direction. Like my body is totally disconnected from my mind, my lips part again as I slowly lick from one side to the other trying to imagine what it would be like to part her lips with my tongue and slip inside her sweet mouth.

Fuck! What is wrong with me?

I’ve never had this reaction to a girl. I quickly take a drink of my beer shaking my head, running my hand through my hair then readjusting my suddenly uncomfortable jeans.

I’m trying to enjoy the show but I can’t help my eyes from glancing her way so many times that I’m feeling a little embarrassed, like I’m a stalker or something. I just want her to look my direction because I am dying to see her eyes.

Even though she’s across the club, our line of vision is clear since everyone has gathered at the stage, jumping and singing with the band. I can tell she’s enjoying the show even though she is sitting near the back still tantalizingly sipping her cocktail and dancing by herself. A group of girls surround her, talking back and forth, but I can tell they’re not as into the show as she is.

CPK
comes on, signaling the finale of the show. It was the band’s first hit and they always pay homage to their beginnings by playing it as their last set song.

I’m not one to pursue a girl, hell, I already have so many I can barely keep their names straight. There is something about her though, and I can’t stop myself. Slowly I start to make my way to her, having no clue what I’m going to say.

As I approach, a friend of hers grabs her quickly, pulling her away screaming, “Come on, this is the last song. Let’s leave before it’s too crowded.”

And that was it. She was gone. A frown fills my face as I watch her slip away, not knowing who she was.

Seven in the morning hits and I lean over to turn off the obnoxious sound coming from my alarm clock. As I roll over to lie on my back, the vision of her soft pink lips pop into my head again.

I dreamt about those lips last night, wrapped around me. It was the sexiest dream ever. I jerked off, for like the first time in forever, in the middle of the night just thinking about it.

I rub my eyes, trying to rub the vision out of my head, and spring out of bed wearing nothing but my Calvin Klein black boxer briefs. I grab my phone to check my schedule for the day and see that I have Andrea today at two. A grin spreads across my face as I remember the last time I was with her.

Andrea is a new divorcee whose husband cheated on her, which made their pre-nuptial agreement null and void. She was heartbroken but received half of his millions and is having no problem spending it, especially on me, whom she loving calls Mr. Ashley.

I will never understand how I got so lucky to be in my line of work. I mean, how many men get paid $5,000 just to have sex? Yup, that’s my job and I fucking love it. No strings, no emotions, just raw, fantastic sex and then I’m out.

I know it’s not the most respectable job, but look at my life. I make my own schedule, I live in this awesome new building, One Rincon Hill, on 1
st
Street in the heart of the Financial District and I can afford everything I could ever want. My life couldn’t get much better.

Just look at this view I get to wake up to everyday. All these windows that display the Bay Bridge, and at night, it’s even more amazing. Yeah, I have no one to share my life with but who needs that? Everyone dies eventually so why not just save the heartache.

I slip on a pair of flannel pants and walk into the kitchen, smiling at the welcome pot of coffee that was set on a timer and is almost finished. After pouring a cup, I walk over to the balcony, open up the door and step out. The air is crisp and cold as I take a deep breath, taking it all in.

Looking over the railing at the people passing by, I’m stopped in my tracks when I see her, the girl from last night. She’s walking down Harrison toward 2
nd
Street holding a camera around her neck. Her hair blows in the wind as she dodges the morning hustle and bustle that is downtown San Francisco.

Surprised by what I see, I walk closer to the railing and take a closer look. Yes, it is her. I would recognize those pale, pink lips from any distance. She’s wearing a long tan peacoat buttoned up with brown pants. Gripping the camera with one hand, she’s holding a large Dooney & Bourke purse with the other. Nothing punk about her today and I can tell she’s more in her element dressed in the designer clothes.

I stare as she walks down Harrison until she disappears, turning the corner onto 2
nd
Street. Shaking my head, I start to rub my face again and turn back into my apartment.

Quickly dressing in my swishy shorts and a sleeveless shirt, I grab my gym bag, a protein bar and I’m out the door.

Walking down 1
st
Street toward Market, I cross onto Montgomery to the CrossFit box I attend. The trainers on the floor and a few other people working out greet me as I walk in.

The place is one big open room with pull up bars in the middle and weights lining the walls. Music is blaring over the loud speakers playing new age rock making me nod my head to the beat.

I place my bag in the cubby and walk over to the white board to see what today’s WOD is. The board reads: Today’s Workout Of the Day is five rounds of twenty-one box jumps, fifteen kettlebell swings and nine burpees. It’s going to be a hard one and a smile comes over my face as I think,
bring it on!

My CrossFit box is an open gym format, where anyone can either join a class or go at their own pace. Still thinking of her face from last night and again this morning, I just want to get down and kick some ass, so I decide to skip the class and do the WOD on my own.

Walking over to the rower, I strap my feet in and begin the warm-up. Slow at first, I pick up my pace going faster and faster, pulling harder and harder with every stride.

I’m so lost in my thoughts that I don’t notice how intense my pulls have become or how long I’ve been rowing until Andy, the box owner, comes over, shocked at my ferocity, saying, “Wow, Charlie, it’s just a warm-up! Take it easy!”

I’m pulled from my trance and I stop rowing, completely out of breath.

“Everything ok, man?” Andy asks.

Still trying to catch my breath, I reply, “Yeah, just got lost in my train of thought. I’ll take it easy.”

Andy pats my back, smiles at me, and walks away. I unbuckle my feet and start to set up my box jump and kettlebell. Once I’m all set up I nod to Marcia, another trainer, who asks, “You ready? I’ll start this clock for you.”

“Yup!” I enthusiastically reply as she starts the countdown clock.

“Three, two, one – Go!”

I start my workout and am grateful that my focus has changed as I count out the box jumps.

Dressed in a slick gray designer suit with a white linen shirt, leaving the top two buttons undone, I sit in my apartment, playing my acoustic guitar when my phone rings. The caller ID says Ms. Divine. With a smirk on my face and in my sexiest voice, I answer, “What can I do for you, Ms. Divine?”

Her older, very distinguished voice tauntingly replies, “Oh, if you only knew, Mr. Ashley, but that is not why I am calling. I have a client who wants to meet with you. She is new to our services and is a little uneasy, so I think you are the man for the job.”

“Is this a coffee type meeting or a full service?”

“Full service where anything goes, so it is your lucky day.”

“My lucky days are in abundance thanks to you but yes, I would love to meet her. I have Andrea today, is she available tomorrow night?”

“Sounds good, darling. You can meet her tomorrow night at five at the Embassy Suites in San Rafael. Her name is Jacquelyn Sanders. She’ll meet you in the bar wearing a polka dot dress.”

“Sounds good, have a good day, Ms. Divine.” I don’t wait for her reply and click end to our phone call.

Noticing it’s time to leave to meet Andrea, I grab a silver necktie and tie it around my neck. Checking myself out in the mirror, I have no choice but to smirk at my appearance, knowing I really am God’s gift to women.

I grab my keys and phone before heading out the door. Unlocking the door to my restored 1964 ½ blue Mustang convertible, I slip in, start the car and ease out of the parking space. Pulling out of the parking garage, I turn onto the streets of San Francisco and speed away. Arriving in front of a house on Marina Blvd that overlooks the Bay, I glance in the mirror one more time before stepping out of the car.

Striding up to the door, I lean to one side and knock lightly. Andrea opens the door wearing a sexy black dress that’s tight on top and flowing on the bottom. She’s looking sexier than ever and I know she feels it, too.

Even though she’s in her early forties, she could easily pass for younger. Her hair is a soft brown color, long and wavy and she tucks it behind one ear while biting her lower lip as she greets me in her most seductive voice, “Looking good, Mr. Ashley.”

Andrea is trying to break her good girl image and I’m the lucky guy who gets to experiment with her to bring out her wild side, to see what she likes and doesn’t like.

Did I mention how much I love my job?

Smirking at her, I reply, “You’re looking stunning as always, Ms. Knight.”

Andrea’s eyes open wide with excitement as I swiftly pick her up and slowly lower her down, holding her body close to mine as I whisper in her ear, “What are you in the mood for today?”