by Jackson Kane
“See?” he said, unconcerned. He still wore his helmet. The bars and straps somehow blacked out his face completely. That didn't make any sense. That wasn't how helmets were supposed to work. “They don't notice as long as we keep dancing.”
Who are you? I stared into his icy eyes, which were the only attributes of his face the helmet didn't steal from me.
“You know who I am,” he said. I heard the voice in my ears and in my mind. The look he gave me seemed to bore into my head, heart, and soul simultaneously. He didn't blink or look away, and neither did I.
I wrapped myself around his great chest, and let my head lull in the nook between his neck and shoulder. Without clothes on I was so cold, but he was a blazing furnace of warmth. As long as I stayed there for the rest of my life, I'd be all right.
He didn't hear that thought, or if he did, he ignored it.
He took my hand in a slow waltz, and slipped his leg between mine. I felt the massive bulge of his cock on my inner thigh as he dipped me low. I closed my eyes. His cock was warm and hardening as it dragged across my leg. It melted the skin it touched, ruining me with renewed shivers.
My clit ached for his roughness. That yearning radiated out from my pussy until my whole body demanded to feel him inside me. I was wet and couldn't stop bucking up against him.
“It's been a long time since you were touched.”
“A long time,” I parroted distractedly. My limbs were turning into rubber. My body was giving in to him.
Despite my eyes being closed I could see that we weren't in the clubhouse ballroom any longer. We were in my old store, Black Rocket Records. My back and head still arched, I opened my eyes and looked at him. The rippling muscles in his arms and chest flexed to keep me from falling.
He gently lowered me onto one of the many small circular tables. The second he laid his fat cock on my swollen pussy, my legs trembled. It ignited a fire in me that only his cock could put out.
He leaned forward over top of me. To prop himself up, he slammed a fist down on the table so loud it startled me. “You've never been fucked by a man like me before.”
“There are no men like you,” I said, grabbing his helmet and tearing it off him.
Garrett Walker's face stared back at me. He seized the base of his cock and drove the impossible length into me.
I woke in my bed, sweating and breathing heavily. Two of my fingers were pushed deep inside my pussy. My panties were embarrassingly soaked through.
Fuck, I was horny.
“No. No. Nononononono...,” I whined miserably. I spent the next half hour trying, and failing, to get back into my dream—to get back to my mystery dance partner. Eventually I gave up. “Dammit.”
Ah! I hated this dream. What a frustrating way to wake up and start my day. Slowly pulling my fingers out past either side of my aching clit, my pussy clenched uncontrollably.
Oh, what the hell.
I breathed and slowly rubbed. Finding my rhythm and pressure, I summoned fresh thoughts of my dance partner's naked skin and huge cock. I imagined his sweaty, rough body lying on top of me, thrusting. I imagined the feeling of being filled up and having his pressure inside me, pushing me apart.... I came hard.
I laid there for a while.
What the hell was that dream all about? I understood the sex part. Who wouldn't? But with Garrett Walker?
Garrett was an asshole. He was also a gorgeous world-renowned athlete. I doubted I was the only one thinking of him when they got off.
“Why the change of heart?” I asked myself, knowing I didn't have any answers for it. One minute he's all death and brimstone, then next.... What did I miss?
I sighed. Nothing made sense anymore.
I checked the time. It was still early. I had plenty of time until my father showed up and we went to meet Mr. Walker. Pretentious jerk.
The cool shower helped clear that horrible, sexy man from my head. I wasn't ready to put on big girl clothes just yet, so a clean pair of panties and an oversize T-shirt left here by one of the models I used to paint would have to do.
God, I needed to get around to laundry soon.
“Call Gloria, phone!” I demanded, placing my cell phone on my cluttered kitchen table. I cleared off enough space for a bowl of cereal and a glass of juice. Gloria was in my favorites so it would've been just as quick to touch the icon of the silly picture I had of her face and call her that way, but I liked ordering my phone to do things.
It made me feel like I was in charge of things.
“Hey, dude. What's up?” Gloria greeted me when the call went through.
“I'm freaking out is what's up.” I poured cereal into a bowl and brought my half gallon of milk to the table. “Also, hi.”
I could hear the smirk in her tone when she asked, “What's freaking you out? Please don't tell me you’re still mad about the latest season of Arrow.”
“No! This is much more important. Although, yes, I am still upset about that show. It used to be so good and now—” I caught myself. My Arrow rant would have to wait. “Never mind. The fate of our whole town is resting on my shoulders, Gloria.”
“Yeah?” Gloria asked distractedly. I could hear typing in the background.
“Gloria! This is important.”
“Sorry... I'm just… wrapping up an email... riiiiight now. And sent. This is just a super busy time for us. We're opening a Rocket store in Hong Kong and— Shit, I'm sorry. You probably don't want to hear about this.”
“No,” I said “It's fine. Really.” And it was.
Mostly.
Giving up my half of the company was painful, but losing it would've been even worse. Besides, Black Rocket Records was Gloria's dream, not mine. It was wrong for my father to have stapled me on to her project.
I just wasn't cut out to run a small business. I understood that now.
“Whatever, it's all boring shit anyway.” Gloria dismissed the business stuff.
“Why are you working anyways? You're fit to pop any second!” I scolded.
“No, I've got another month. I know you know that.”
“Just hammering the point home. Stop working! Go eat weird shit and binge-watch TV shows. I'm living vicariously through you and I feel exhausted.”
“I'm not doing backflips, Judy. It's just a little admin work,” she protested. “Tell me about what's going on with you?”
“I have to play tour guide for some wealthy investor and convince him to invest in the stadium.” I idly browsed my small stack of mail as I ate and talked. Most of them were various bills, but a few were rejection letters from art galleries, which made me feel super awesome.
Not even my paintings were good enough.
“Invest how?” Gloria asked. “Last I heard your dad was just looking at selling naming rights.”
“That or part ownership.” I took a heaping mouthful of cereal and talked while chewing it. I'd never have done that around anyone else. “I dunno? Whatever will get us another hundred-million dollars.” I swallowed my mouthful.
“Oh!” I abruptly remembered. “Did I tell you he jumped out of a fucking helicopter to meet us?”
“No... seriously?”
“Yeah, the guy's a total nut job!” I flung my rejection letter across the room.
“Hey.” Gloria’s tone shifted. “You know we'd help more if we could.” There was a pause on her end, then she added somberly, “Caldwell Hope is our home, too.”
“I know.” My voice was as full of sympathetic understanding as my mouth was full of Lucky Charms. Putting the majority of their wealth in a trust fund for their children was a great way to bring the King family back together, but it did come with some unforeseen drawbacks.
They couldn't afford to bail out their town in its time of need.
I finished my bowl of cereal as she caught me up with her latest pregnancy woes. The conversation was a bit bittersweet for me, but I was genuinely happy for them. It sounded like everything was really working out for them.
I casually put a
few more strokes of color on a painting I was sporadically working on. It wasn’t anything serious. I never had the inspiration for a real piece anymore, so I did little commissions here and there.
One corner of my kitchen was set up as a small art studio. It was nothing elaborate, just an easel, some additional lighting, plastic on the floor and surrounding wall—for when I got passionately messy—and a cleaning and paint station, which was a small square glass-topped table.
It wasn't much, but it was my favorite way to unwind. It was also why my house was a cluttered disaster. I was always working on one project or another.
“Which greasy old billionaire did you get stuck with?” Gloria asked flippantly, as the doorbell rang.
“Garrett Walker.” I checked my melting Salvador Dalí wall clock. “Hey, I gotta let you go. Dad's here.”
Weird. Dad wasn't supposed to be here for another half hour. I shrugged and went for the door. My condo was set furthest away from my other neighbors, so I didn't care that I was underdressed. And it was hard to care about being modest around a man who used to change my diapers.
“Woah, Judy....” Gloria suddenly sounded distressed. “Garrett Walker? The Grim Reaper of Wall Street?”
“Yeah. Silly nickname, right?” I undid the deadbolt and gave the door a heavy heave. For some reason, it always stuck in the winter. I shielded myself against the blast of snowy wind. The cold breeze whipped across my bare legs and up my double XL shirt, turning my braless nipples into hard little nubs of ice. “Hi, Dad. You're early.”
“Be careful with that guy, Judy!” Gloria said in the background. “Garrett Walker is bad news.”
I finally looked up from the initial blast and realized, much to my horror, it wasn't my father at the door at all.
“Hi,” said Garrett Walker.
Seven
Judy
Of all the coffee shops in town, why did he have to pick the Rocket?
Garrett had walked off to make us coffees. I sat at a table along the back wall and bristled in the small mountain of clothing I wore. My stomach hadn't untwisted from the embarrassment I’d felt earlier. Ruthless corporate businessman Garrett Walker saw me prancing around in my underwear.
I wanted to hide under my comforter until I died of old age, but I couldn't. The whole town was literally depending on me to put on my big girl pants. How could I change the heart of someone who didn't have one in the first place?
Or maybe he lost it along the way somewhere.
I sank a little in my puffy white jacket, trying not to be noticed. It wasn't super busy, but there were still a few people mulling about the record and CD racks or flipping through some of the comic book stands. One young couple even sat on the small stage we used to use for live bands, and read poetry to each other.
I couldn’t help but crack a small smile at seeing the place. It'd been years since the last time I was in here. Local art hung on the walls. The ones I remembered had long since been cycled out and replaced. That was one of the design elements I was most happy with. Whether it was painting, sculptures, or whatever, I loved the idea of sharing the work of local creators.
I was really glad Gloria kept that. Looking around, it seemed like she’d kept most of my design ideas. The place hadn’t changed much in the years I was gone, except that it was doing much better financially.
Being back didn't hurt as bad as I thought it would, but despite it all, seeing Black Rocket Records doing well did make my heart ache a little. I wanted Gloria to succeed. It just reminded me how much better off she was without me.
“Judy?” a bubbly young voice asked from over my shoulder. I knew it was Penny before I turned. She had green hair this month and wore a big, wide-eyed smile and a prefaded Metallica shirt. It was good to see her. We hugged.
“Are you in college yet?” I asked. Penny hung out here with us after school every day, when we’d first opened, then she started working part-time when she was old enough. I did the math in my head. Penny had to be around eighteen or nineteen now. From the cleaning apron she wore, I could tell she was still working here.
“No. I’m taking a year off. I just need to figure myself out first. Student debt scares the hell out of me.” She wiped down the small table then plopped down across from me. “What have you been up to? Did you go with Gloria to open a new store somewhere cool and exotic?”
“Hmm? Oh no. I don’t— Gloria and I split ways a while back. Nothing personal. We still talk all the time. It just didn’t work out. The business, I mean.” I tried to put on a blasé attitude about the whole thing. Penny gave me a confused look. She obviously thought I was still part owner. “I’m up at the stadium working with my dad now; interning in the PR department.”
“Oh.” Penny’s reply was a painful spike between my ribs. The look of sympathy she gave me afterward stung the most.
I wish that failure didn’t still hurt so much.
“Just trying something new, y’know?” I chuckled, shrugging and trying to wave it all off. I was just making things more awkward. I struggled to keep the groan out of my voice and was mostly successful.
“Huh. I figured you’d have gone into design or something by now. Do you still paint?” Penny raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow, causing the piercing above her eye to catch the overhead light and sparkle.
“Yeah! Of course. All the time,” I lied energetically. I hadn’t had the time for that in a long while. I was trying to take my unfulfilling work seriously. I didn’t want to let Dad down again.
Someday I’d feel inspired again.
“So…” Penny smiled, looking over her shoulder at Garrett who was finishing up with the coffees. “Who’s the hunk?”
“That is none of your business, little girl,” I teased, hiding the shallow depression that lingered in me like a bad cough I couldn’t get rid of.
“Come on!” Penny leaned forward and whined at me. Penny was hopelessly forward with things. She got along with Gloria really well because of their shared bluntness when it came to telling everyone what was on their minds.
“If you must know, he’s a potential investor, and this is a business meeting.”
“Ohhh, swanky.” She looked Garrett up and down as he began to walk back, two steaming coffees in hand. “Is he single?”
“No! He’s not single,” I whisper yelled. A flash of jealousy lit me up, but fortunately, Penny was too occupied to see it. “I mean, I don’t know if he is, but you need to go.”
What the hell was that? What did it matter if he was or wasn’t? And why did I get so defensive at that? Great, now she put the thought in my head. Was he single?
“Okay, okay. I’m going.” Penny got up as Garrett arrived.
They exchanged hellos, then Penny went to the counter to wait on a customer. She turned back around once she was behind him. She pressed her fingers to her chest and cooled her face by fanning herself with the other hand. All the while she mouthed the word “Hot” at me.
I stared daggers at her, hoping that anger would push down the flushness that was already swelling in my cheeks and neck.
It wasn’t working.
“Take off the coat if you’re warm.” Garrett’s eyes were intense and unreadable. His tone had a touch of mischief to it that was irresistible. He hung his jacket over the chair adjacent to us.
Garrett Walker is bad news. I rolled the statement around in my head like a sommelier might sip a fine wine.
“I don’t mind.” He stole a long glance at me and I felt nearly naked in front of him all over again. The look he gave me lit my skin on fire. “You look better out of them anyway.”
Fuck! It was suddenly way too hot in here with this bulky winter jacket on. Steam pulsed out of my turtleneck like the spout of a kettle just about to boil. In my embarrassment, I had overdone it with the layers. With the coat and all my heavy winter clothes on beneath it, I looked like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. I really didn’t want to take off any more clothes in front of him.
I hated
the idea of letting him win.
He’s just trying to rile you up. You’re Caldwell Hope’s ambassador!
People were counting on me. I couldn’t afford to let him under my skin. Yeah, easier said than done. Gloria’s warning to be careful rang out like a foghorn in my head. This wasn’t just any businessman. This was the Grim Reaper of Wall Street!
“So, um….” I coughed, changed the subject, and glanced away. I stood up and quickly slipped the bulky coat off. If I didn’t, I’d be a sweaty, uncomfortable mess in no time. Besides, by taking off my outerwear, he didn’t win anything. The thermostat was set too high in here. I was just warm, that’s all.
It had absolutely, positively nothing to do with the way his deep ocean-blue eyes flickered over me like the hottest part of a lighter flame.
“When’s my father getting here?” I had texted Dad several times, but I didn’t get a response. That wasn’t surprising; he was notoriously bad at texting. If I was lucky, I’d get just the letter K or a question mark. For a solid week it was nothing but emojis. It wasn’t even the common ones; it was the weird ones that no one ever used, like the Clipboard or the No Biking symbol.
“Unfortunately, Paul won’t be able to join us.”
“What?” My throat filled with sand. “Why not?”
“I asked him to give my assistant, Michael, the tour I was supposed to take yesterday.” Garrett slowly mixed his drink.
“Okay….” My eyebrows turned upward as I tried to swallow all the questions I had with sips of my scalding coffee. Well, what the hell? What was the point of this then? Dad was the one who knew all about the stadium.
Thanks for abandoning me to the wolves, Dad.
“I’m not sure how much I can tell you about the stadium.” I shrugged. “Dad is the real expert; I just work there.”
“I know.” Garrett leaned back in his chair, totally at ease. The wooden chair moaned under his weight, as if it were satisfied that he was there. Garrett was a man who was just as comfortable in long silences as he was in the chaos of a bone-crunching football play. “I don’t want to talk about the stadium.”
