Authors: Sherrod Story
“By the big screen TV.”
“His precious home entertainment center that looks like a mini-theater?” Fiona laughed. “Bring it here for me, please?”
“You should
n’t with those drugs you took.”
“Bring it, Cleo.”
“All right! Don’t get worked up.’
******
With a successful perfume meeting behind her, a plan under way and her next tasks before her, Fiona returned gratefully to Chicago. She knew it was bogus, but she had Netty call Natty to say she was home and exhausted, that she had fallen asleep talking about calling him. She hoped he wouldn’t stop by. With Daney hovering in her mind like a ghost, the thought of seeing another man was barely tolerable.
Of course, not seeing Natty also meant not going to the studio. Not that she wanted to. She wanted to sit in her room and pout and smoke until she fell asleep watching some obscure movie on cable. And that, she told herself, is exactly w
hy you’re going back tomorrow.
The next day he greeted her normally. Mike was there and a few of the session musicians, and they palled around. She and Natty had agreed to keep their relationship quiet, and though everyone knew, their friends and peers respected their pr
ivacy for the sake of the work.
She told them a little about the perfume deal, discussed the different types of scent she was considering until Natty g
rabbed her hand. He tugged her gently and rose. She followed without looking back at the now silent room.
H
e brought her to his apartment.
“It’s clean,” she said.
“The maid came,” he muttered, already pulling her clothes loose. “I know we can’t do anything until you’re better, but I need to feel you,” he groaned when she was in her undies and in his arms. He squeezed. “Fiona. I won’t lose control, I promise. Just let me,”
He kissed her so pa
ssionately, she had to respond. The feelings built as she realized she’d missed him and his honest desire for her. It was amazing. The heart could be intertwined with one and the body could still feel the pleasure of another’s touch.
He groaned as she stroked the insid
e of his mouth with her tongue.
“I haven’t hurt for days now,” she whispered against his lips. “It’s
been a week since the doctor.”
“Five days,” he corrected, rubbing himself gently against her. “Are you really feeling better? I was worried about you.” His hips stopped their restless movement as he squeezed her again, and
Fiona wanted suddenly to cry.
“I’m perfectly fine, except for not having bee
n made love to in forever.”
“Try two weeks,” he laughed, kissing her chee
rfully as he stroked her back.
“An age,” she corrected. “My period’s
completely over,” she said, kissing him aggressively in a way that reminded him of the other things she liked to do to his body.
He groaned, ground himself against her hard, and was instantly contrite. “Did that hurt? You drive me nuts!” He made to pull away, and Fiona wrapped he
rself around him like wet hair.
“You’ve never hurt me,” she whispered, kissing him gently now. She sighed and rubbed her breasts very deliberately against his chest. She arched her back and slowly surrounded his rigid dick in the hot V between her thighs. “Quite the contrary.”
Fiona loosed the breathy, panting noises she knew he loved, and with the special gift that only belongs to a very sensuous woman, she made herself smaller, more vulnerable, luring her lover to master her, to control her with firm, but caring hands. With her beauty and warmth she incited him to pleasure her, to worship her curves and the long lines of her endless legs.
Natty followed her lead expertly, and when it was over, she lay idly stroking a hand over his back, another o
ver the slender round of his ass. She wondered if she was horribly cruel to keep this lovely man when her heart was somewhere else.
Then, as was often the case when self-doubt appeared, she answered herself. Fuck no she wasn’t cruel. Cruel was leaving a woman for a man she hadn’t even fucked. Cruel was not calling, not even once, to see how she was. Cruel was sending Flora the most adorable clothes from Japan and not including a word for her. Cruel was being photographed with your fuckin’ a
rm around a supermodel in Soho.
Daney was a prick
.
S
he kissed Natty’s shoulder and the side of his neck as she hugged him close.
Natty lifted his head to kiss her. “I’m glad you’re home,” he whispered, and with the special talent only a truly blessed, beautiful man has, he made love to her. By turns sweet and seductive, he caressed her until the last lonely bit of te
nsion melted from her limbs. They fell asleep wrapped so close in each other’s arms their breath mingled.
******
She was sorting things for the dry cleaners the next day when her phone rang. Scrambling to find it beneath the heap of shit on her bed, she answered it without looking to see who it was. She was expecting a call from Gilbert in Paris.
“Peace.”
“Peace.”
She froze mid-
illicit smoke. Literally stopped breathing, then began to cough.
“You okay?”
“Fine,” she gasped. “You?”
“I want you back.”
“What?” she shrieked, still coughing.
“I want you back,” Dan
ey repeated. “I’m coming over.”
Fiona plopped down on the edge of the bed and attempted a few dee
p breaths. “You’re in Chicago?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you working?”
“No. I
’m here for you.”
Fiona was
completely dumbfounded. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say, yes, Daney. Come over.”
“Yes, Daney. Come over.” she breathed, her heart already beating faster with anticipation. He was on his way.
She ran to the shower, then ran to her cell. She had to put Natty off so he wouldn’t drop by. Thank God she’d resisted the lazy urge to give him a key. She called the studio phone, thanked God again when Mike answered. “Tell him I’m not feeling as well as I thought. My voice is still a little hoarse,” she added truthfully. “I think it would be wise to chill for the day, not talk and come back tomorrow.”
She knew Natty wouldn’t come by after that. He’d just bury himself in work and call her tomorrow.
Mike agreed, and said he’d pass along the message
. “Glad you’re feeling better.”
“Thanks, buddy. Peace.”
She showered quickly with Daney’s favorite soap and walked through a small cloud of his favorite perfume. She lamented that Netty wasn’t home to spray her down properly. But soon she’d have her own shit to mist! She still had to look at those bottle designs. Where were those fuckin’ – there! She put in a pair of small gold hoops with a thin, pave strand of gold running over them. She only had time to get her bra on before he was at the door.
She threw on a cream silk robe and ran. She skidded to a stop and pulled nervously at her hair, took a deep bre
ath before she opened the door.
He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. His hot eyes and even hotter hands said everything. He came over the threshold and pulled her into his arms like he’d crossed a battlefield to reach her. He kissed her lavishly, stroking her mouth with warm wet licks that dewed her st
arved-for-him pussy instantly.
She yanked up the hem of his butto
n down to get at his pants.
“
Wait,” he said in a harsh tone.
Fiona stopped. Her hands fell away from him and she stepped back. Tears fell. Daney’s heart broke all over a
gain at the misery on her face.
“I didn’t mean to yell,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. Forgive me.” He pulled her close and squeezed h
er hard. “Play a game with me.”
Fiona stopped crying. “A game?”
He nodded, sucking her top lip softly between his as he lifted her and began to walk toward her bedroom. For a long lush moment he gently reacquainted himself with the shape of her lips and tongue. He shouldered the door open. “You don’t wanna play with me anymore?”
“Yes,” she breathed, arching in his arms. “Yes, yes, I do, pretty,” she breathed, tugging her clothes off as
she watched him.
She laughed
when he hopped on one foot pulling off a sock. He cursed and took a visible breath then stood there grinning as he stripped, theatrically tossing his shirt over his shoulder before he pressed her back onto the bed and licked the tears from her face. Fiona flexed her hips, and her mouth reluctantly left his, but she was unable to keep from caressing his throat with her lips.
They came together that first time as though they had indeed been separated by war. Fiona’s tears began to fall again, but this time in gratitude for how good he felt in her arms, inside her body. She was grateful for everything. Shivering at his scent, his sweat, his presence, she shook as the pleasure seeped through her. She whispered, thank God, when her clima
x came, and cried out his name.
Daney
, who’d been dreaming of her for months and had not had any lovers, found it surprisingly easy to stop making love so she could rest. Before he brought her up again, he toyed with her on the edge of that feverish pitch they inevitably reached together. He entertained himself by touching her, nibbling her lips as he stroked her hair and tugged the shape of her ears between his thumb and pointy finger. He drew the scent of her forearm deep into his lungs, and the difference between that skin and the even better scents to be found on her succulent neck just under the chin held him in thrall for long moments. It was like old times.
S
he smiled as his formerly gentlemanly penis stirred against her. When he thrust that first time in their second round and felt the pleasure wash over him, he realized they’d made love without a condom. They were doing it again right now. It was the first, second time they’d ever done it raw. No wonder it had been so good. There had been no barrier between them, nothing to separate them from touching in the most intimate of ways.
He opened his eyes and found her looking at him, his sudden realization shining from her steady gaze. She kissed him gently, and her big brown eyes drifted shut. Her hips began to move, slowly, carefully, as though she was testing out the new feelings, refitti
ng her whole self against him.
“Do you like it?” he asked softly, his hips rolling impos
sibly smooth inside her warmth.
“Yes,” she whispered, rubbing her cheek
against his beard. “Yes, I do.”
“Me, too,” he swallowed. “You feel,
amazing. I missed you, Fiona.”
They made love again, then sat in the bathtub talking while the water cooled and their fingers and toes pruned. She made them bacon and eggs, and he told her about the meeting with the Clinique people. How the artistic director had loved him but the crea
tive director hadn’t been sure.
“Look at him,” his advocate stressed, throwing expressive hands over Daney’s 6’4” body standing in front of them in
his underwear. “He’s perfect.”
“I don’t know,” the woman said, thoughtfully. “I think he might be too pretty for what we’re looking for. We need
a very masculine, manly look.”
“Look at the jaw,” the man stressed, pointing sharply at Daney’s cheek. “When the beard comes in a little more you’re going to feel differently. When
did you shave?” he asked Daney.
“A
few hours before I came here?”
The man cursed. “What if we go to lunch, will it have started
to come back out do you think?”
“It’ll take a few hours,” Dane said apologetically, but pointed on the table at his portfolio. “I have a few pict
ures with beard if that helps.”
The man pounced on the pictures and began to flip dramatically. He quickly found one. “Here, look at him in this sui
t with that 5 o’clock shadow.”
In the shot Daney was modeling Calvin Klein with a slinky blonde draped over his front. He was holding her around the waist, his hands big on her small frame, his lips parted as though about to capture hers in a fiery kiss
.
“I see what you mean,” the woman said, staring at Daney with new eyes. “Can you do something like that for us?” she
asked pointing at the picture.
“S
ure,” he grinned, speaking softly and deliberately as his eyes lazily caressed her neck, mouth and face. She blushed. “I can do anything you want.”
“You d
idn’t do that,” Fiona insisted.
“I most certainly di
d,” he said. “Got the job too.”
“If I did that
my reputation would be ruined.”
“And my heart would be broken.”
She froze, his words too close to the truth to hide her reaction. Then she cringed when she realized that he’d realized she was frozen. She didn’t breathe through a few erratic heartbeats and wondered what to do.