“Fuck.” Jordan stood behind Liz. He dropped his hand below his waist and shoved balled fists into his pockets.
Chloe was intimately familiar with this game. It was a variation on something she and Jordan did, but having the object of their fantasy with them changed things. Intensified every sensation teasing her. Neither of her partners spoke. She’d need to carry most of the story. That was fine with her. “You like what you see.” She looked at Liz again. “Curiosity and desire fill you, as I remove the last bits of my clothing.”
Chloe pulled off her bra, pushed her panties to the ground, and tossed them both aside. Standing naked in front of Liz and Jordan, who were still fully clothed, amplified her arousal. Once she dipped her fingers between her legs, she wouldn’t be able to stop, so that had to wait. She sat on the couch. “I lower myself to the bed and run my hands over my torso, cupping my tits and pinching my nipples. You can’t pull your gaze away and mirror my gestures.”
Chloe let go of a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, when Liz groped herself through her T-shirt, playing with her breasts. Liz’s lips parted, and a soft sigh escaped.
“You get wetter the longer you watch.” Chloe kept her hands above her waist, despite the pleading from her core to move lower. “And you start to rub yourself. Stroking through your jeans at first, and then gliding your hand inside your pants and rubbing your clit through your panties.”
Liz dipped her fingers down, and her moan mixed with Chloe’s as Liz’s self-ministrations grew more intensive.
“Our spy plan is working.” Chloe couldn’t restrain herself any longer. She leaned back into the cushions and spread her legs. The hungry gazes on her almost made her come before she touched herself. She stroked her bare skin, then dipped a finger inside. “You don’t hear Mr. Spy enter your room. The distraction worked too well, though. He’s enthralled by the sight of you touching yourself. Enough that he forgets his primary goal.”
Liz jumped when Jordan slid behind, but then she relaxed against him. He undid her jeans and covered her hand with his. Chloe couldn’t see it, but she swore she felt his cock digging into Liz’s ass. The jealousy that surged earlier was absent. This wasn’t something to envy; Chloe wanted to get off to the sight. She didn’t know if she could find her voice to finish the story, but she was going to try. “You’re enthralled with watching me. With Mr. Spy’s heat against your back, his hand forcing you to pleasure yourself. You can tell from the way I’m moving that I’m close.”
And she was. She wanted to finger herself until she screamed, but they weren’t to that part of the story. She edged back. “When Mr. Spy bends you over, forcing your gaze from the rifle scope you’re watching through, you don’t protest.”
Jordan pulled a condom from his back pocket. Chloe would have to ask later why he had it on him, since the two of them moved past protection long ago. No. She knew why, and the realization that he was hoping for this as much as he was added to her excitement.
When he placed a palm on Liz’s back and pushed, Liz took a few steps before bending forward. The movement brought her close enough to rest her hands on either side of Chloe’s head. Liz dipped nearer, until Chloe felt her breath. “Stop talking, and enjoy your own story,” Liz said. She brushed her lips over Chloe’s, lightly the first time. When Liz jerked forward, Chloe knew he drove inside Liz. She groaned and kissed Chloe harder.
The hunger drove Chloe to rub faster, and she hedged toward climax.
Liz broke the kiss with a cry when Jordan thrust forward. Chloe didn’t dare look away from the captivating image of Liz bent over her, Jordan just visible behind, as she fingered her needy button. She lost track of the world when she came, hovering somewhere between the fantasy, and the vivid reality it led to. Her head swam with the feeling of her fingers sliding against her own skin. With the scents of Liz’s perfume and Jordan’s aftershave. With the intoxicating sounds of them nearing their own peaks.
Chloe pushed herself until she couldn’t take anymore, and then shuddered away from her touch. She recognized Jordan getting off, and when it mixed with Liz’s whimpers, Chloe wished she wasn’t already spent.
When the cries in the room faded, Chloe met Liz’s gaze again. Liz gave a light laugh, then shifted her weight and collapsed on the couch. Jordan joined her, nuzzling Chloe’s hair and muttering something like, “I’ll get you water as soon as I can stand.”
The moment was perfect, as far as Chloe was concerned. Enough so, she refused to think that it couldn’t last. She’d burn this fling in her thoughts forever. She and Jordan would pull it up again in the future. And that would be enough. It had to be.
Chapter Twelve
Do you have to go home?
Chloe’s question from the night before echoed in Liz’s head, as she extracted herself from the sleeping couple and their bed. It was barely six. No sane person was up this early on a Sunday. Liz had never considered herself completely sane, though. This scenario was a perfect example of that—screwing around with two people she felt a stronger connection to each time they met. A couple obviously completely head-over-heels for each other. Liz didn’t seem to be cut out for no-strings any more than she was destined to find a nice guy to settle down with.
Maybe now was a good time to cut her losses and learn to be celibate. She glanced at their slumbering forms one more time and turned to the clothes she’d draped over the back of a chair. She wasn’t wearing those panties home, and the denim of her jeans was rough against her skin when she pulled the clothing on. It was rude to leave without saying goodbye, but she should to get back to her place.
She padded into the living room, thoughts still in a jumble. It wasn’t as though she was falling in love with either of them. Ridiculous notion. She barely knew them, and there was the whole matter of them already being attached. To each other. She couldn’t ignore their emotional bond. If she let things get physical again, she’d struggle to sever ties. Best to tell herself now that things like last night wouldn’t happen again. To cement the idea in her mind, before it was too late.
Chloe and Jordan’s balcony overlooked the city ten stories down. Liz was grateful the door slid open with little noise, and when she stepped outside, she kept the sliding glass ajar so she could hear any movement from inside. In the distance, a train horn sounded. Somewhere a few streets over, a car revved its engine. But the only movement Liz saw was a pair of pigeons nesting across the street. She loved the serenity of this place when most of its inhabitants slept or prepared for their day of worship.
“It’s pretty, isn’t it?”
Liz glanced over her shoulder, surprised Chloe sneaked up on her. “One of my favorite sights. Have you lived here all your life?”
“In this condo? Nah. We only bought it a few years ago.”
“Smartass.” Liz laughed. “I meant in Utah.”
“Yeah. Grew up on the west side. You?”
“Moved here when I was thirteen.” At the time, Liz thought it was the worst thing that ever happened to her. God. How naive young-her had been. It wasn’t the first time she had the thought, but unlike in the past, it didn’t ache inside with a bitter swell. She was almost okay with it. “Came from Chicago. Our hills look like your speedbumps.”
“Where you can see the city skyline from an eternity away.” Chloe approached the railing and rested her arms on the wrought iron. “I’ve been there. Stunning and flat, except for the buildings.”
Silence settled between them, broken only by the occasional chirp of a bird. It spanned as the sky grew lighter with the creeping dawn.
“What do you want to be when you grow up?” Chloe asked, voice barely more than a whisper.
Odd question. “I’m already grown up. So I guess... Account Manager for my best friend’s advertising firm?” The reply tasted like sawdust in Liz’s mouth. Odder reaction.
Chloe traced the pattern of the railing, following her finger with her gaze. “I can’t make this come out right, so I’m sorry in advance. You strike m
e as someone who wants more from life than that. It’s probably a great job, and working with your friend—awesome. But... Never mind me. I don’t mean anything by it.”
“I get what you’re saying.” It hit closer to home that Liz expected, and summoned a foreign sense of longing. “I’ve got a master’s in Business with a focus in Accounting. I can do things with numbers that are almost artistic. Which sounds really boring, and on its own doesn’t take me far. I got a bit of a late start on reality, so I’m still feeling my way around.” It was embarrassing to admit that at twenty-eight, she still didn’t have much of a clue about where she was going. Something told her Chloe wouldn’t judge, though.
Chloe looked up, tiny smile playing on her lips. “You need to start somewhere.”
“When I was little, I had vast, sweeping fantasies of becoming a wife and a mother. You’re this brilliant executive, so that probably sounds silly to you, but don’t laugh.”
“I would never.” Chloe sounded sincere.
You should. Liz brushed away the bitter thought. “When I graduated high school, I got to live the dream, and I was happier than I thought possible.”
“But you’re single now.”
“My parents, husband, and baby girl died when I was nineteen.” Liz almost gagged on the words. Nearly a decade later, it still hurt to talk about. An ache flared in her chest, stealing her air, and acid scorched her throat. She gripped the railing, focusing on the external chill and the corners of the metal digging into her palms, rather than the past.
“Jesus. I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
People always said that, and Liz never figured out why. “I’m grateful you didn’t. It’s a part of my life I don’t need the public digging into.” Seeing it in the papers back then was bad enough. She studied the light of the rising sun reflecting off the building across from them. Listened to the distant purr of traffic on the freeway. Anything to pull her back into the now.
“I didn’t mean to dredge up painful memories.” Chloe covered her hand, and the contact jolted Liz from the depths of her mind.
“It’s okay. I need a minute or two to process. For the most part, I dealt with it a long time ago.” Besides, it was nice to talk about it with someone who didn’t have a snide opinion about it. Someone besides Mercy and Ian. It amazed Liz how intrusive people were about everything—from offering opinions about how she should have prevented it, to comments like I bet you wish you were there, to open, raw pity. Liz didn’t want any of that. “My point is, after that, I thought I still wanted the same thing. Going through therapy and healing, I was sure I’d get that dream back.
“When I met George, I expected to be giddy about having children. Instead, the notion of losing another one outweighed the potential of seeing a young life grow up in this world. At the time, it seemed like fate that George didn’t want kids either. It would have been nice to know it was because he had two.” She shook her head with a bitter laugh. “Anyway. Beyond that, I never really thought about my future. I hit a point where I was tired of not contributing, so I got a job. I’m good at what I do, so I don’t complain.”
Liz didn’t want to be in this place right now. She needed a hand out. To talk about anything else. “What about you? What do you want to be when you grow up? If you’re not already there.”
Chloe searched her face, brows furrowed, and then seemed to make a decision. “I’m not quite there.”
Liz wanted to hug her, for moving on without protest.
“When I was a teenager, I was too busy fantasizing and writing about watching pretty boys having sex, to think about much else,” Chloe said. “It wasn’t that I did or didn’t want the all-American dream of a house in the suburbs, a white picket fence, and two-point-five kids. It wasn’t something that was on my radar one way or another. I was going to write a brilliant novel in my spare time, after school and on weekends. I figured my English teacher would stumble on my incredible ramblings, see what a literary genius I was, and tell a book publisher. I was going to be rich and famous before I was eighteen.”
Some of Liz’s nausea fled. “I like that. It’s a wonderful idea.”
“It was stupid.” Chloe didn’t look upset. She said it as if it were the most basic, boring fact. “I took it too far one day, and turned in one of my stories instead of my assigned work. I was convinced it would be my big break. She’d read my random chapter, pull me aside, and praise me. I’d be on my way to the big time. Instead, she chastised me in front of everyone, for writing stories about my classmates. I never heard the end of the teasing.
“I wanted to crawl in a hole and die. Turned out, even amid mortifying embarrassment, life moves on. Right after graduation, a little start-up software company found my fan fiction in their forums. It turned out my dream could become a reality. They offered me a writer job, I met Jordan, and I never looked back. Until he was fired yesterday. Now, when I should be worrying about him, I’m instead wondering if I didn’t set my goals high enough.”
Liz recognized that look of regret. She never expected to see it on Chloe, though. “Nothing’s stopping you from doing it now. If you’re talking about reaching for more, there’s always time.”
“I guess. So I’ll ask again—what do you want to be when you grow up?”
“Someone who makes dreams come true.” Where did that come from? It wasn’t a thought Liz ever had before, but it sounded like fun. “Kind of like a fairy godmother.”
“I’m not sure that’s a job, but there has to be a way to make it one.”
The sun was up now, bright enough to make Liz squint and wish she had her sunglasses. The conversation had her too enthralled to break the flow and grab them. “I envy you,” she said.
“Me? Why?” Chloe’s question lilted with shock.
“When I was younger—hell, even a year ago, I would have looked at you and thought you didn’t know what you were doing or where you were going. A woman who lived with her boyfriend, instead of insisting on marriage. Who obviously put career first.” Liz held up her hand in response to Chloe’s wounded look, hoping to hold off any offense until she got her thought out. “Whatever your reasons or story, I would have judged you, and I would have been wrong. You’ve got it made.”
Chloe’s chuckle implied she wasn’t convinced. “Yeah. Sexy boyfriend, bad reputation, and pizza and video games every night. I’m living the dream.”
“He’s got you, too.” Liz definitely envied the way the two connected. Their synergy. “But you are living the dream, aren’t you? You wanted someone to come along and find your writing and heap glory and work on you. Don’t you have that? Plus, you make your own decisions. You have to answer to the boss, but you’re doing something you love.”
“Yeah. I really am.” Somewhere in the condo, a door creaked. Chloe turned to lean her back against the railing, which left her facing inside.
“In response to your question, I don’t. I don’t have any idea what I want to do with my life.”
“At least you’ve got the entire rest of it to figure things out.”
Liz didn’t think that was true. “It would be nice to at least have a direction.”
“Do you want to go to breakfast with us?” Chloe asked. “Jordan and I always go somewhere Sunday mornings, while the world is quiet. Come with us, and we’ll plot world domination. Or our futures. Something.”
“I should get home.” Liz forced the resolution through her veins. This seemed like as good a time as any to start severing ties. The serious conversation was over, but the mood wasn’t light and silly.
Chloe’s smile flickered toward a frown and didn’t quite recover. “Do you have half an hour? We’re going to need to look at the fallout from yesterday’s letter sometime, and if you’re here, you can keep us in check.”
“I don’t want to keep you from breakfast.”
Chloe grabbed her hand and tugged her inside. “Then it’s settled. You’ll go with us. We’ll read while we’re there. All three of us sitting together but s
taring at our phones. Like a proper American family.”
“Except we also have to talk about what we’re reading. In case we need additional strategy.” Liz refused to dwell on the statement about family. “I’ve got a little bit of time to hang out.”
The apology from Jordan went as well as could be expected. Commenters questioned his lack of sincerity and pointed out he hadn’t taken any responsibility, but the right news site picked it up, ran it with the headline Jordan Iverson Looking for Justice in Horrific Assault, and most of the outlets copied the news from there.
For Liz, a little time turned into most of the day. Dusk settled in before she said goodnight. Walking away was more difficult than she expected, and despite her resolve to limit emotional attachment, she didn’t hesitate to say sure when they asked if she was free next weekend. It didn’t mean they had to have sex. She’d made new friends, they were open-minded, and they could help her meet someone of her own. Or rather, move on to the next fling. That sounded better. Sharing her past lingered in her soul, reminding her she wasn’t ready for PTA life just yet.
Chapter Thirteen
Jordan could have slept in. For the first time since hitting adulthood, he had a Monday all to himself. Sure, there were vacations and holidays, but this was different. He was free. He had the entire world ahead of him.
He dreaded having to look for a job. He worked at Walmart in high school, but after that, he never had to go to a job interview. Never had to write a resume. He woke up at four, and his mind hadn’t shut up long enough for him to get back to sleep. Instead, he took a walk to the shopping center around the corner, where only the coffee shop and convenience store were open. He returned to their place, kicked off his shoes, and glanced at the clock on the microwave. Chloe had to be up in a few minutes. Perfect timing.
The Geeks and the Socialite Page 11
