What She Craves (24 page)

He kissed me harder, more urgently. I felt lost…

I'm kissing a stranger in the middle of the street!
I dropped my arms and pulled away.

David wasn't fazed; he just gave me a lazy, sexy smile. “I'll call you soon,” he said again, and brushed his fingertips lightly against my breasts. My hard nipples were clearly visible through the sheer cotton of my sundress. I felt a slow burn rise in my face.

He quickly got into his car, started it up and put it into gear. “Bye, Gillian.”

“Bye, David.” I watched his blue convertible turn the corner and out of sight.

 

Over dinner, Mary studied me carefully. “David is certainly an attractive man…and he was certainly attracted to you. Are you going to go out with him?”

I shrugged, pretending nonchalance. “I gave him my phone number, but I'll doubt he'll call. He's a flirt—probably just likes to collect digits.”

“Oh, I think he'll call,” replied Mary. “And if you do go out with him, be very careful. You're in a vulnerable position right now, and David has a reputation.”

“Reputation? What do you mean?”

Mary took a sip of her wine and fiddled with the glass stem. “I've heard gossip, and I see his name sometimes in the tabloids. After all, Wentworth Properties has made him very, very rich. He must be worth tens of millions.”

I nearly dropped my fork. “Oh my God, he's THAT David Wentworth. I never made the connection.”

“Yes, he's that Wentworth. People say he's ruthless—used to getting what he wants by any means. And I heard that his divorce—I think it was about three years ago—was pretty messy.”

“Well, thanks for the warning, Mary. I will be careful. I doubt anything will happen with this guy anyway. He must be used to having gorgeous women throw themselves at him.”

“You're not the type to throw yourself at anyone, Gillian. I'm sure that's very appealing to David.”

I thought of our passionate kiss in Ken and Jackie's driveway, and fought hard to keep an embarrassed blush at bay. Thank God Mary hadn't witnessed that little scene.

 

That night I lay in bed, unable to sleep, my mind whirling. I thought about calling Anita—meeting David definitely fell into the “Major News” category—but it was very late. And for some reason I wanted to keep this stunningly wonderful development to myself for a while.

I tossed and turned in bed for hours. I kept reliving every moment of our meeting—his electric blue eyes and lazy smile, that unbelievable kiss. My heart was pounding.
Please God, let him call me…I have to see him again.

Suddenly Miss Prudence and Miss Hornypants popped into my head. These two voices had first appeared during my adolescence, when my hormones and my good sense were constantly engaged in battle.

“You acted like a complete slut,” said Miss Prudence. “Letting a stranger kiss you and touch your breasts—in public! What were you thinking?”

“He wasn't a complete stranger,” Miss Hornypants pointed out. “She'd known him a few hours.”

“A few hours!” Miss Prudence was outraged.

“It was just a kiss and a little fondling. It's not like she dropped to her knees and gave him a blow job.”

“It was bad enough! He probably thinks she's an easy piece of ass.”

“No, he doesn't. He was very attracted to her, and she felt the same way. Why pretend otherwise? They simply acted on their feelings.”

“She's going to regret—”

“Oh, both of you leave now!” I demanded.

Once they had disappeared from my mind, I turned my thoughts back to David. What would he be like in bed? I immediately knew the answer—amazing.

I pulled my nightshirt all the way up to my neck. I closed my eyes and massaged my hard nipples, remembering David's fingers brushing gently against them. I imagined his lips and tongue on my breasts, kissing and licking, sucking and teasing…

I felt an instant ache growing between my thighs. My breathing quickened. I spread my legs and slowly rubbed my pussy lips together. I was very wet. I slid two fingers inside, imagining David's hard cock, and rubbed my clit with my other hand. Within minutes I came intensely, convulsing and stifling a scream.

I didn't know it then, but it was the first of many incredible orgasms David would give to me.

I
drifted through Sunday, hoping David would call my cell, knowing he probably wouldn't. He didn't. I fought down disappointment and anxiety.
He will call me, he will call me…

Mary drove me to the station to catch the 4:00 train. I hugged her hard. “Thanks for the great weekend, Mary, it was just what I needed.”

“You can visit anytime, Gillian. And please remember what I said about David…I don't want to see you get hurt.”

“Sure, I'll be careful.” I didn't have the heart to tell her that I had already fallen hard for this guy—physically anyway.

The train ride back to the city was blissful, especially compared to the ride out. I thought of David the whole way. I didn't think once about that other guy…what was his name…oh right, Steve.

The city was still steaming hot. Nothing in my mailbox except a Visa bill with a $240 minimum payment due. Once I'd paid the bill and my rent, I'd have less than $300 in my checking account. I sighed as I realized that I had to go back to temping.

I decided to lift my spirits by calling Anita. I gave her a blow-by-blow account of meeting David, leaving out only Aunt Mary's warning and my orgasmic sexual fantasy about him.

Anita gave a low whistle. “David Wentworth! He's quite a catch. Rich
and
good looking. Elena Hernandez dated him for a few months.”

“Oh God, you mean that gorgeous Brazilian model who did the Revlon campaign? I can't compete with someone like her!” I squeaked.

“Elena is gorgeous, but she's also a mean bitch. It's no wonder he dumped her after a few months. And you're gorgeous too, Gillian.”

I snorted. “Yeah, right. At best I'm cute. But he probably won't call me anyway.”

“Of course he will. And when he does, you have to let me know right away.”

I laughed. “Okay…you'll be the first to know.”

I hung up and started some desultory cleaning. I had the fan on at full blast, but was soaked with sweat within minutes. God only knew when I'd have enough money to buy a new air conditioner.

My cell phone rang.
Anita again,
I thought,
with another tidbit of gossip about David.
“Hello?”

“Gillian? Hi, it's David Wentworth.”

My knees turned so weak I had to sit down. I pushed a sweaty strand of hair out of my face. “Oh hi, David, how are you?” I said in my best faux casual voice.

“Fine, and you?”

“Fine.” My palms were sweating and I had to work hard to maintain a normal tone.

“I wondered if we could get together tomorrow night. Are you free?”

“Um, yes, I think so. I mean yes, definitely.”

“Great. I thought we could have dinner at Francesca's on 52nd Street. Do you know it?”

“Oh, sure.” Actually I'd only read about it—Francesca's was the new chic restaurant for celebrities and the super rich. I couldn't afford a cup of coffee at that place.

“I have a six p.m. meeting…do you mind meeting me there around eight?”

“Sure, that's fine.” I felt relieved. I didn't want David to see my crappy apartment—or my crappy building or my crappy neighborhood, for that matter.

“Perfect. I'm really looking forward to seeing you again, Gillian.”

“Me too, David.” We made small talk for a few minutes, then hung up. I was so proud that I'd managed to get through the conversation without sounding like Minnie Mouse or making a complete ass of myself.

I immediately dialed Anita's cell. “He called! We're having dinner tomorrow night at Francesca's.”

She was almost as excited as I was. “That's fast work. He must be really into you. And dinner at Francesca's…he wants to impress you. What are you going to wear?”

“Oh God, I hadn't even thought of that. I don't have anything good…what am I going to do?”

“Relax, your best friend is an expert at dealing with fashion emergencies. I have this really cute Versace mini-skirt that would look great on you.”

“Anita, I can't fit into your clothes! I'm six inches shorter and twenty pounds heavier.”

“Well, okay, we'll bag the mini-skirt idea. But I can bring over accessories and makeup. I'll be there as soon as I can.”

Twenty minutes later we were rummaging through my pathetic wardrobe. “What about this long green velvet dress?” Anita suggested. “You always look so pretty in it.”

“Too formal and too hot. I usually wear it for family holiday gatherings.”

“Okay…how about this blue suede suit?”

“Too business like.”

Anita refused to be discouraged. “All right. How about the skirt from the blue suede suit with a pretty blouse? This white lace one has a nice low neckline—you definitely won't look too business like.”

I tried on the outfit with strappy white high-heeled sandals. I was pleased until I turned around to get a rear view. “Oh my God, my ass looks huge!”

“No, it doesn't,” Anita disagreed firmly. “You have a great ass and great tits. I wish I had your assets…then I might actually have a shot at the Victoria's Secret catalogue and the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue.”

I turned to look at her. She was dressed in faded jeans and an old T-shirt. No makeup. As usual, she looked spectacular. Anita had incredibly long, lean legs; Audrey Hepburn features; feline green eyes and short jet black hair. It was impossible for her to look bad. I dismissed a twinge of jealousy.

“Okay, I'll trust your opinion. I'll wear this outfit. Now what about accessories?”

We finally agreed on her gold San Marco necklace and matching bracelet, with discreet gold hoop earrings. She also loaned me a white pashmina. She applied makeup and wrote down instructions so I could recreate the look the following night. When I studied myself in the mirror I felt like a princess—a much prettier, more sophisticated Gillian.

“Okay, just one last thing,” said Anita. “Underwear.”

“Anita, he's not going to see my underwear!”

“You never know.” She smirked. “Besides, even if you don't end up in bed with him, pretty underwear will make you feel more confident.”

“I guess so…I do have a new bra and panty set I bought at Victoria's Secret. Aunt Mary gave me a gift certificate for my birthday.” I showed her—a push up bra and modest bikini panties in apricot silk trimmed with ivory lace.

“Perfect. You'll give David Wentworth the biggest hard-on of his life.”

“Anita!” We collapsed in laughter.

It was nearly midnight when she left. “Now remember, I want to hear all the details right away. Have a wonderful time.” She winked at me as she closed the front door behind her.

 

The following night I splurged on a taxi even though I couldn't afford it. I didn't want to take the subway or bus to Francesca's and dishevel my appearance. As I stood before the restaurant door, huge moths of nervous tension fluttered in my stomach. I closed my eyes and took three long, deep breaths, trying to center myself the way I did before going on stage or in front of a TV camera.

The hostess was a coolly elegant black woman in a low cut ivory evening dress. “May I help you?” she asked with an imperious glance at me.

“Yes, I'm meeting David Wentworth.”

“Of course. This way please.” Her voice was a degree or two warmer, but her expression suggested that she still couldn't imagine what I was doing here.

“Gillian. You look wonderful.” David rose and leaned over the table to peck my cheek. Even that brief contact was enough to make my heart race.

The hostess dropped a menu in front of me, then leaned far over the table to hand one to David. Her boobs nearly popped out of her gown. I glared at her. She ignored me. David seemed oblivious to the boob maneuver and my outrage.

We quickly ordered wine and entrees. I tried not to feel intimidated by the chandeliers, the priceless Persian rugs, the fine china and crystal.

David smiled and pinned me with his brilliant blue eyes. He was staring at me so intently that I had to drop my gaze and fidget with my napkin to regain my composure.

“When I met you at Mary's I thought you looked familiar…I'm wondering if I remember you from a commercial.”

“Maybe. My most successful one was for Manhattan Bank. It ran for several months on local stations. I played satisfied customer number one.”

“Yes, I remember now. You were excellent as a satisfied customer.”

The mild sexual innuendo was enough to make me blush ferociously.

“So how was your meeting?” I asked to change the subject.

“Pretty good. I'm working on a new luxury condo project in Boston. There's been a lot of red tape, a lot of problems with subcontractors, but we're making progress.”

Our entrees arrived. My salmon dish was mind-blowing—what Anita and I called “OhmyGod food”—but I was too nervous to enjoy it. David and I chatted casually about our backgrounds. I told him about growing up in rural New Hampshire with Anita; he talked about Denver and his childhood dream of becoming a professional tennis player. A severe knee injury had ended his budding career.

Two hours slipped by; eventually we were the only customers left in the restaurant. David sat back in his chair and again mesmerized me with his gaze. “I just moved into a new apartment on East 75th street. I'd love to show it to you.”

I felt a moment of panic. Miss Prudence and Miss Hornypants made a brief appearance in my head.

“He wants to have sex with you! You never sleep with a man on the first date!” cried Miss Prudence.

“Go for it. You might not get a second chance with this guy,” urged Miss Hornypants.

Miss H. won. “I'd love to see your apartment.”

“Great. My car and driver are just outside.” He leaned across the table and softly kissed my lips. My panties were soaked. I knew I was about to experience the most intense sexual pleasure of my life.

 

No ostentatious stretch limo for David. His car was a sleek black Mercedes with tinted windows. “Gillian, this is Al,” he said, introducing me to the driver. Al, a huge, swarthy middle aged guy, opened the back door for me and grinned. I liked him immediately.

In the car David chatted with Al about sports. Taking my fingers in a firm grip, he moved my hand to his thigh. I could feel his potent body heat; I swallowed hard.

The elegant lobby of his apartment building had the hushed atmosphere of a European museum. In the elevator David punched the PH button and then kissed me hard, slowly sliding his tongue between my lips. He ran his hands down my back to my ass. By then my nipples were rising and my pussy was aching. When the elevator doors opened he released me.

“Would you like the grand tour of the apartment?” he asked.

No, I want you to rip my clothes off and take me right here in the foyer.
I restrained myself. “Yes, I'd love a tour.”

The living/dining area was about the size of a football field. Huge floor to ceiling windows revealed a stunning panorama of the East River. The décor was muted and elegant—steel gray leather sofas and ottomans; large Cubist paintings that appeared to be Picasso originals; a few enormous floral arrangements in crystal vases. I'd seen apartments like this only in
House Beautiful
and
Architectural Digest.
“It's lovely,” I murmured, trying not to let my impatience show.

He took my hand and pulled me through the kitchen, the study, the guest room, and finally to the master bedroom. I was disappointed when the tour didn't stop there; I was about to expire from frustrated lust. He showed me the master bathroom and then led me into his dressing room. There he finally kissed me again; I could feel his heart pounding. “Give me your tongue,” he demanded. I obeyed.

As he slowly unbuttoned my blouse I reached down to massage the bulge straining at his fly. His cock was extremely hard—and apparently extremely large. I glanced to the right and understood why we were starting here. A full length mirror on his closet door reflected everything we did to each other. It was incredibly exciting to watch.

David pulled my blouse off and expertly unhooked my bra. “God, Gillian, your breasts are beautiful,” he breathed. “So round and firm…and your nipples…” He began to lick and suck; it was even better than my fantasy. My nipples looked like raspberries.

I dropped to my knees and unzipped his fly. I pulled out his straining cock and flicked my tongue over the head, teasing out drops of cum. David groaned. I pulled down his pants and briefs, then attacked his shaft and balls with my lips and tongue. His balls were very tight. David's breathing quickened as he watched me in the mirror. “Gillian, please stop…it feels wonderful but I don't want to go off too soon.”