by Brent, Amy
“What makes you say that?”
“I got a call from upstairs while you were doing the news,” Ed said, slowly shaking his head. “Walker’s agent delivered new terms this afternoon after we met with the good doctor. We want to renew him at double the current rate with the same amount of time onset. He wants to quadruple the rate, double the minutes, and a guarantee of a thirty-minute special once a quarter on the medical topic of his choice. And he wants an anytime-opt-out clause, which is fucking unheard of in this business.”
I folded my arms over my chest and leaned back against the wall to give others room to pass by. Ed leaned his shoulder against the wall and shoved his hands into his pockets. He was so round he couldn’t help but block the hallway. I asked, “Why does he want an anytime-opt-out?”
Ed blew out another long breath that puffed up his cheeks like blowfish. “Word is he’s negotiating with Kingston Television about a daily syndicated show.”
“A daily show? Seriously?”
“Yep. He wants to be the next Dr. Oz.”
“Wow, that’s…”
“Awful,” Ed growled. “If he gets a syndication deal, the opt-out clause would let him pull out of our deal anytime he wanted with no notice or penalty.”
“Would that be so bad?” I asked. “I mean, he’s only on once a week for two minutes.”
“Those two minutes are the highest rated minutes of the week for us,” Ed said, holding up two fingers and stabbing the air with them. “Sure, we can put another talking head in his place. I’ve got them lined up around the fucking block. But they are not Dr. Cole Walker. Him leaving could cost us millions in lost revenue and tons of lost viewers who will follow him wherever he goes.”
I tried not to smile. Who knew that one day my old high school sweetheart who got nervous raising his hand in class would command such an audience. The look on Ed’s face told me there would be absolutely nothing to smile about if Cole left the show. I shouldn’t have asked, but I did. “Okay, so, what can I do help?”
Ed looked at me for a few seconds, then his bushy eyebrows slowly rose and he twisted his mouth to the side. “I think you know. Give him a reason to stay.”
I huffed at him. “You can’t be serious.” My face turned deep red, not because of what he’d said, but because I had been thinking about fucking Cole since the moment I saw him walk through the door. However, I was not so egotistical as to think that my pussy still held any type of control over his brain or cock. I’d done a quick Google of Dr. Cole Walker after our meeting. He was a notorious womanizer and had his pick of models, actresses, and heiresses. There was no room for someone like me in his life. I was an old flame and nothing more.
“I’m not telling you to do anything you’re not already thinking about doing,” Ed said nonchalantly with one round shoulder going up and down. “I’m just suggesting that maybe you could get him to see our side of things.”
“You want me to negotiate his contract on my back.” I rolled my eyes at him. “I don’t think I have that kind of influence on him anymore.”
“Don’t kid yourself,” Ed said, pushing away from the wall. He leaned in and lowered his voice. “I saw the way he looked at you. I think you have far more influence than you know.”
He glanced at his watch. It was almost eight o’clock.
“I gotta get home. And you gotta get downstairs.” He put his hand on my arm and squeezed. There was a devilish grin on his pudgy face. “Prince Charming awaits.”
Cole
I’m not going to lie. I was a little nervous when I saw Lucy come out of the building and head my way. It was an odd feeling. I had not been nervous around a woman in… well... years. I was a cocky son of a bitch and damn proud of it. I made people nervous, not the other way around. Don’t judge me. It was hard not to have an ego the size of Texas when you did what I did for a living, literally holding life and death in your hands one minute, then holding the attention of millions of fans worldwide the next. My fans hung on my every word, post, and Tweet. It was the damnedest thing you ever saw. Being me was almost like being a movie star or a rock star. All modesty aside, when you looked like I looked and did what I did and screwed the women I screwed, well, again, it was hard not to let it go to your head.
The oddest thing was that I didn’t feel the need to show off around Lucy. I had not seen this woman in nearly twenty years and the moment I saw her I felt my entire body relax, as if every muscle sighed at the sight of her. She moved into my arms and melted to me as if we had never been apart. I was totally comfortable around her. There was no pretense. No bullshit. I was completely at ease. It would be interesting to see if that kept up during dinner or if my famous ego would rear its ugly head. The Lucy I used to know would cut me off at the knees if I got too cocky with her. I’d have to keep that in mind as the evening progressed.
“How was your first broadcast?” I asked as she approached with a big smile on her face. “I saw some of it in the car. It looked perfect to me.”
“It went great, but I need a drink,” she said, giving me a hug before climbing into the back of the limo. I climbed in behind her and closed the door. I took a deep breath. The faint scent of her soap and shampoo lingered in my nostrils, making me sigh. The driver glanced over his shoulder to make sure we were in, then pulled slowly away from the curb while we got settled in the back.
“What would you like?” I asked, gesturing at the minibar built into the back of the front seat. I gave her a playful frown. “Wait a minute, when did you start drinking?”
“Uh, when I turned twenty-one,” she said with a smile that was as contagious as the flu. “In fact, I had my very first hangover the morning after my twenty-first birthday. I’ll just take a beer if you have it. What about you? When did you start developing your bad habits?”
I smiled. The fact that I’d never tasted a drop of alcohol was one of those pompous things I liked to brag about. “I’ve developed many bad habits over the years, but alcohol isn’t one of them,” I said as I opened the mini fridge beneath the bar and plucked out a bottle of Coors Lite and twisted off the cap for her. I wrapped the bottle in a napkin and handed it to her.
“You don’t drink?” She said it as if she were astounded by the fact. She settled back in the seat and took a sip of the beer and let out a sigh. “Good for you. What about drugs?”
“Oh, there you got me. I am a crack addict of the highest magnitude,” I said making a silly face. I took a bottle of Perrier from the fridge and sat sideways in the seat facing her. “Actually, I’ve never taken a drug, never smoked a joint, never been drunk or high. I overdosed on sinus meds once in college, but that’s the depth of my drug addiction.”
“Are you philosophically opposed to alcohol and drugs?” she asked. I watched her tongue circle around her lips after taking a drink. “Or do you just think it’s cool to be different?”
“I wouldn’t say that I’m philosophically opposed,” I said, holding out the Perrier bottle to tap it to hers. “When I was younger, I was too busy trying to keep my grades up to get into med school to get drunk or high. I was always the designated driver or the one sober frat brother who dealt with the cops when they came to bust up a party. Now, I’m always on call, so I have to make sure I’m always sober and ready to go.”
“My goodness, look at you, all grown up,” she said, smiling at me. “Little Calvin Walker, a world-class cardiologist and TV star. I always knew you had talented hands, Calvin, but I would never have imagined this. How cool is it being you?”
“It’s very cool,” I said, wiggling my fingers at her, making her giggle. “But I’m sure Ed told you everything there is to know about me. Let’s talk about you.”
“You’re much more interesting,” she said with a sigh.
“I’m only as interesting as other people think I am,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Come on, Lucinda Walsh Rhodes, catch me up on your life over the last eighteen years.” I held out my hands and she took a deep breath, then told me her life
story, at least the highlights and lowlights, of the past eighteen years.
She went to Stanford after high school, met her future husband her sophomore year, fell in love even though everyone warned her that he was a pussy-chasing douchebag (her words), graduated with a degree in journalism, moved back to Milwaukee, got a job as an assistant news producer at the local CBS affiliate, moved to Chicago to become an executive producer at the CBS affiliate there, caught her husband cheating multiple times, finally had enough, left him and…
“Here I am,” she said quietly, as if telling the story had exhausted her. She had peeled the label off the beer bottle with her thumbnail as she spoke. She brushed the scraps of paper into her palm and dropped them on the minibar. There was a sad tinge to her voice now, as if she wasn’t really where she expected to be at this point in her life.
“And here you are,” I said. “Where did you think you would be at this point in your life?”
Her pretty nose crinkled when she frowned at me. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“You said, here I am,” I said, my hand sliding through the air like some game show model presenting a prize. “Is this where you thought you would be when you were that bright-eyed journalism student at Stanford? Did you think that one day you’d be the executive producer of a cable news broadcast? I mean, you must be pretty proud of where you are, Lucy, all things considered.”
“All things considered I suppose I am,” she said, mustering a smile that could have construed as happy or sad.
“Well, however things were supposed to work out,” I said, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. “I, for one, am glad you are right here, right now.”
“Me, too,” she said, her eyes beginning to sparkle again. “I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.”
“Good, me too,” I said. I brought her hand to my lips and gave it a playful kiss. “So, dinner? What sounds good?”
Lucy’s fingers tightened around mine and she leaned toward me. She pressed her lips softly to mine and slipped her tongue into my mouth. Pulling back, she rubbed her nose against mine and said, “What I’m hungry for they don’t serve in restaurants. Take me to your place, Calvin. And hurry, before I change my mind.”
Lucy
I heard myself saying the words, but for a moment, I wasn’t sure if I’d said them out loud or just inside my head. The tip of my nose was touching his. Our eyes were locked just inches apart. Our hot breath mingled like steam rising through a fog. Cole smiled. I smiled. His fingers tightened around my hand. Obviously, he’d heard the words I’d blurted without thinking. Thank goodness, because I didn’t think I had the nerve to say them again.
* * *
Cole ordered the driver to take us to his penthouse, then raised the tinted glass behind the front seat so we could have a little privacy. We sat in the back seat making out like the two horny teenagers we once were.
His tongue hungrily probed my mouth as his warm hand slipped under my blouse and bra to massage my breast and roll my nipples. Little sparks of electricity shot through my body from head to toe, as if I’d touched an electric fence.
I could feel the intense flood gushing between my legs as my hand slid between his thighs and found his thick cock hard and ready, just like the old days. It felt magical beneath my hand, as if touching it had transported me back in time.
I moaned into his mouth when his hand slid down to my crotch. He rubbed the fabric between my legs until the heat was so intense I thought my slacks might catch fire.
“We’re here,” he sighed in my ear as the car rolled to a stop in front of his Manhattan penthouse. It was a short ride that ended not a moment too soon. “Let’s continue this upstairs.”
“Yes, let’s,” I said, blowing out a long breath and adjusting my blouse as the doorman hurried across the sidewalk to open the car door.
“I have a huge boner,” Cole whispered with a boyish grin that I recognized from years ago. He took off his jacket to drape over his arm to cover his protruding cock. He slid out of the car and held out his free hand to me.
When I got out of the car I “accidentally” brushed his cock with my hand. He jumped and I giggled.
“Let’s go upstairs and I’ll take care of that for you, Dr. Walker,” I said. Without another word, he grabbed my hand and literally dragged me inside the building, across the marble foyer, into the gold-paneled elevator, and into his penthouse suite.
We attacked each other the moment the elevator doors closed.
* * *
Cole led me through the dark penthouse, not bothering to turn on lights until we reached his bedroom, which was larger than my entire apartment. One wall was all glass with a magnificent view of the city at night. A king-sized bed was centered on the opposite wall. Cole sat on the edge of the bed and held my hands.
“I’ve missed you, Lucy,” he said, his eyes soft in the glow of the bedside lamp. “I’ve dreamt of you over the years.”
“You have?” I asked, twirling my hands through his thick black hair. “And what did you dream?”
He put his hands on my hips and pulled me toward him. As his fingers worked the buttons on the front of my blouse, he gazed up and spoke softly. “I’ve dreamt of fucking you. I’ve dreamt about eating your pussy. About your lips on my cock. About my cock deep inside you.”
“Mmmm, I like the way you dream,” I said as he pushed my blouse off my shoulders. The bra I was wearing hooked in the front. He had it open quickly and my bra joined the blouse on the floor. My big tits bounced free.
“God, when did you get these?” he asked with a devilish grin as he massaged my round globes.
“The year you left me behind,” I said. “Now, aren’t you sad that you went away?”
“I’ll just have to make up for lost time,” he said. My areolas were large and dark, my nipples the size of pink thimbles. He squeezed them between his fingers. “I remember your nipples being long and wonderfully suckable.”
“They still are,” I said, my breathing growing heavy from his touch. “See for yourself.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” He cupped my tits and swirled his tongue around my nipples. My tits were large enough that he could squeeze them together and slide his tongue between my nipples without leaving my breast. I twirled his hair around my fingers and closed my eyes as he suckled me. I could feel the hot juices pooling between my pussy lips, soaking my panties. The scent of my tangy juices filled the air.
Cole unbuttoned my slacks and hooked his thumbs in the sides, then pushed my slacks and panties down my legs at the same time. He glanced at my shaved cunt and smiled. “I love that,” he said as his thumbs pulled back the skin above my clit, making me jump. “I remember this being covered in blonde curls.”
“I can grow it back,” I said playfully. My voice was husky, breathless. When he pressed his thumbs against the sides of my clit and moved them around, I could feel myself about to cum. When he slid his fingers down through my folds, lubricating them with my hot juices, then slid two fingers inside me, I didn’t bother holding back. I clutched his head between my tits and let the orgasm come.
“Fuck… Cole… I’m cumming….”
“Cum my darling,” he said, his teeth on my nipple, his fingers jackhammering into my cunt. His free hand went around me and clutched my ass cheeks to lift me to my toes. “Soak my hand with your hot pussy juices.”
I smiled at the dirty talk. The only dirty talk I’d ever participated in was when Randy and I would pass each other in the hallway and I’d tell him to go fuck himself. The teenage me would have been embarrassed by the talk. And the teenage Cole never said a word when we were doing it. I’d never been with a dirty talker before. I found it totally fucking hot.
“Oh… my god… yessss…” I came in a great wave that coated his entire hand with my juices. When the orgasm finally ceased, I opened my eyes to see him licking his fingers.
“You taste… lovely,” he said with a sly grin. “Now, it’s my turn.”
> He directed me to sit on the bed and he stood in front of me. My heart was still racing as my trembling fingers started unbuttoning his shirt. He tore open the bottom two buttons and tugged the shirt off his arms and tossed it aside. My mouth practically dropped when I looked at his muscular body. Cole was no longer a skinny kid with no chest hair or muscle tone. His body looked like it had been freakin’ Photoshopped. His shoulders and chest were thick with heavy muscle. Veins roped his biceps and forearms. His rippling abs moved slowly in and out as he breathed. His chest was covered with black curls that encircled his dark nipples.
“Wow,” I said, my hands going over his chest. His nipples were like hard pebbles under my fingers. I smiled up at him. “You really filled out.”
“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” he said, putting his hands on this sides like he was Superman. He nodded at the huge bulge protruding from the front of his pants. “Keep going.”
My fingers fumbled with the belt buckle and zipper for a moment, trembling in anticipation as my palms brushed the head of his cock. I pushed the pants down his leg and smiled at his cock pushing against the black satin briefs he wore. I hooked my fingers in the front of the waistband and pulled his underwear out and down to free his long cock. When I saw his cock spring up, I literally felt myself starting to cum again.
“Oh, my,” I said, licking my lips. “You’ve filled out all over.”
When we were kids, Cole’s cock was long and thick, but time and age seemed to have filled it out even more. His cock was at least ten inches long and as round as the mouth of a shot glass. The shaft was arrow straight and veiny. His cock head was the size of a small plum, dark purple, ready to pop. His pubes were thick and black, like the hair on his head.
I wrapped my fingers around his cock and started slowly milking him back and forth. “Tell me what you want me to do,” I said, glancing up with a coy smile. “Tell me what you want me to do with your big, thick cock.”
