Mister Weston

by Whitney G.

  A waitress suddenly stepped in front of us, interrupting our moment as she gave us fresh glasses of champagne. She asked me if I was enjoying myself, if I needed anything else, and as she launched into a short spiel about how amazing the hors d’oeuvres were tonight, I felt Jake’s heated gaze moving up and down my body, felt him turning me on without even trying.

  The second the waitress walked away, he spoke. “What do you do for a living, Gillian?”

  “I’m—” I remembered what Meredith said about lying tonight. “I’m a pilot, a captain actually.”

  He raised his eyebrow. “You look a little too young to be a captain.”

  “My high number of flight hours say differently.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes.” I barely managed to remain standing as he took my glass from my hand and set it on the ledge.

  “Are you a commercial or a private pilot?”

  “Private.” I needed to ask him what he did for a living, to run away from this lie and subject as fast as possible, but he leaned back against the railing and pulled me closer to him, making me lose my train of thought.

  As he pressed his hands against my hips, I stood still between his legs, so close to him that I was convinced he was about to press his mouth against mine and kiss me, but he didn’t.

  “How long have you been flying?” he asked.

  “As long as I can remember.”

  “Hmmm...” He trailed his finger against my bottom lip, appearing even more intrigued. He looked as if he were waiting for me to jerk back or tell him to stop, but when I didn’t, his smile returned. “So, which airline do you fly for, Gillian?”

  “It’s a really small one...” The rough way he said my name affected me even more than his intense eye-fucking. “You wouldn’t know it. Trust me.”

  “I would.” He lowered his voice, his lips nearly brushing against mine. “Try me.”

  “It’s um...It’s a small, private one.”

  “Yes,” he said, his voice even deeper. “We’ve established that it’s private, Gillian. However, that’s not what I’m asking you. What’s the name of the airline?”

  Shit... “I can’t tell you that. It’s too personal.” I surrendered as his hand caressed my back, as his fingers teasingly trailed the imprint of my bra. “What do you do for a living?”

  “I’m a bestselling author.”

  “What?” My mind raced with questions. “Really?”

  “No.” His lips latched onto mine without warning and I lost all sense of time as his tongue slid deeper into my mouth—as he bit down hard on my bottom lip, making me even wetter than I was before. His hands were gripping my hips, his fingers pressing into my skin, and I let out a soft moan as his mouth continued to control mine. “I’m not really a fucking author...” He whispered against my lips, and a knowing smile crossed his face as he pulled away from me. “But since you’re pretending to be a pilot, I can pretend to be whatever I want to be, correct?”

  “Yes.” I felt my cheeks heating. “I guess so.”

  “Did you come here alone?” he asked.

  “I think you should’ve asked that before you kissed me.”

  “If your sexy ass mouth wasn’t such a distraction, I would’ve,” he said. “Did you come here alone?”

  I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

  His fingers were running through my hair, and his mouth was close to mine again. My panties were soaked and sticking to my skin.

  “Gillian?” His smirk slid into a cocky smile. “Did you come here alone?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “It can’t be both.”

  “I came alone,” I said, barely hearing my own voice.

  “Hmmm.” His fingers slid down to my neck, his heated touch setting my skin on fire. “Did you plan on leaving here alone?”

  “What if I did?”

  “Then I think you need to change your mind.” With that, his hand went around my waist and he pulled me close, kissing me deeply, making me forget the people around us. His kiss was controlling my every breath, my every thought; it was the type of kiss that would never be forgotten. A kiss that was already cementing itself into my future memories.

  The party around us ceased to exist—the light sounds of the piano and party chatter all diminished to a hum so soft I could only hear the two of us breathing.

  His grip tightened around me and I surrendered full control of my mouth to him, letting him show me how pleasurable a night with him could possibly be.

  All of a sudden, a loud applause sounded—disturbing our moment, and we both slowly pulled away. The crowd’s attention was focused on a man who was standing atop a small stage and giving a speech, but our eyes were still focused on each other.

  “What will it take?” he whispered, looking upset that we’d been interrupted.

  “What will it take for what?”

  “For you to leave with me.”

  “Um...” Butterflies fluttered against my stomach and my heart raced at a completely foreign rhythm. I’d never been instantly attracted to any man I’d met in my life, never felt as if I didn’t need to talk at all, but this man was more than worthy of an exception.

  “Is ‘um’ indicative of a yes?” he asked.

  “No, it’s...Look, I don’t typically do one night stands.”

  “Then we won’t call it a one-night stand.”

  “A night of meaningless sex, then?”

  “A night of fucking,” he said, his voice low. “A night of me owning your pussy on every single surface in my hotel room. If we make it past the alley, that is.”

  I swallowed, knowing that no matter what this man said, I was going home with him.

  “I’ll leave with you,” I said. “You just need to answer a few of my questions so I feel somewhat safe.”

  “Okay, Gillian.” He looked amused. “Ask away.”

  “Can you promise me that you’re not a psycho murderer?”

  “I can promise you that I’m not a murderer.”

  “What about the psycho part?”

  “No comment.”

  I laughed, but something told me he was only halfway joking. “Are you originally from New York?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “Someone named Jake once told me it can’t be both.”

  He let out a low laugh. “My family is originally from New York. I was born in Missouri, but now, unfortunately, I’m back again.”

  “Would you like to explain the unfortunate part?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “What’s your favorite type of woman?”

  “What?” He raised his eyebrow in confusion.

  “You know, blonde, brunette, redhead. Those types.”

  “I’ve never had a type.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because there’s no way for me to tell what a woman’s pussy is like just by looking at the color of the hair on her head.” He ran his fingers through my hair for effect, rendering me temporarily speechless. “I’ve honestly never had a type, Gillian. Are those all of your questions?”

  “No. I have three more.”

  “I’ll answer two more.”

  “Fine,” I said, my body begging me to wrap up this conversation. “How often do you pick up women at parties like this?”

  “Not so often.”

  “But often?”

  “No.” He looked genuine. “Not often at all.”

  “Okay...” I didn’t really have any other questions. “We can leave now.”

  “You’re not going to ask another question?”

  “No, the ‘but often’ one was number two. I know how to count.”

  “Clearly.” He smiled wider than he had all night and pressed his hand at the small of my back, leading me through the crowd and out of the party.

  We stepped onto the elevator, making way for a couple to get off, and the second the doors closed, Jake’s lips were on mine again and my back was pressed against the wall. Never wanting this moment to end, I
wrapped my leg around his waist, gasping as I felt his hard cock through his pants, as I felt how huge it was.

  My hands ran through his hair, and his fingers slipped under my dress and beneath the lace line of my soaked panties.

  His fingers quickly pushed the fabric to the side and he whispered, “So fucking wet...”as the elevator continued to fall floor after floor. Slipping two fingers deep inside of me, he breathed against my neck. “My place or yours?”

  “Mine...” I whimpered in pleasure as he withdrew his hand.

  “I don’t think so,” he said as the doors opened on the ground level. He slipped his arm around my waist and led me outside. “I won’t be able to wait that long. I live closer.”

  “Doubt that. I live closer,” I said, opening my clutch to make sure the keycard to 80A was still inside. “We can walk to my place from here.”

  “Even if that’s true, I’d prefer to drive.” He pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and hit the button, causing the bright lights of a black BMW across the street to flash. “How many blocks away is your place?”

  “Four.” I smiled. “Closer than yours, isn’t it?”

  He didn’t answer. He led me over to his car and opened the door for me. Then he slid behind the driver’s seat and cranked the engine, causing the dashboard to light up in a bright array of blues and whites.

  “Do I need to make a right or a left at the light?” He pulled onto the street and sped away.

  “Right.”

  He stopped at the red light and looked over at me, making me even more anxious. He didn’t say a single word, just simply fucked me with his eyes until the light changed.

  We passed two more blocks and hit another red light.

  “I take it your building is on Park Avenue?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Which one is it?”

  “The Madison.” I pointed at the building as we approached, thanking the universe that the managers were throwing a shareholders’ party tonight. The valet was swarming with vehicles so I wouldn’t have to go through the front door and be questioned by the doorman. “You’ll have to park on the street somewhere. Only guests have parking passes and I’ve already used mine.”

  “Hmmm,” was all he said in response. He drove through the light and made a reckless U-turn, parking on the side of the building. He turned off the car and opened my door.

  “You may want to move your car elsewhere,” I warned as he helped me get out. “The doorman here is really adamant about getting cars towed for people who don’t live here.”

  “I’ll deal with the risk.” He looked at me. “How long have you been living here?”

  “Not long, just a few months.” I started walking toward the side entrance. “I prefer going this way.”

  He followed me and after I placed my employee card against the keypad, he held the door open.

  The lights in my manager’s office were off, and there were no night shift employees walking the hallways. The only noise was the laughter and chatter from the ballroom that was on the other side of the building.

  As we walked to the elevator, Jake’s hand pressed against the small of my back, and my anticipation rose with every step toward the elevators.

  As soon as I hit the up button, the doors opened and we stepped inside together.

  “Wait!” A shrill voice cried. “Hold that elevator, please!”

  Jake held the doors open and seconds later, an elderly woman stepped inside.

  “Thank you so much,” she said.

  “What floor?” Jake asked her.

  “Twenty-six. Thank you.”

  He pressed “26” and then, out of a pure gentleman’s book, he pressed “50” so it wouldn’t look like we were together. “And for you?” he asked, looking at me. “What floor?”

  “Eighty.”

  “Eight?” He looked at me. “Is that what you said?”

  “No, eighty.” I pulled the additional key out of my bag and held it against the panel. “You can’t press that floor. I have to use this to get up there.”

  “Oh! I’ve always wondered who lived on that floor,” the woman said. “Good to finally put a face to a unit. You should try coming to the monthly social sometimes. Once a year wouldn’t kill you, you know.”

  “I’ll try it.”

  “How are the views up there, by the way?” she asked.

  “Phenomenal.”

  “I bet.” She gave me a short wave as she got off on her floor and for some reason, Jake was gently pulling at my hair, murmuring something that sounded like, “Strawberry...” but I wasn’t sure.

  “How long did you say you’d been living here exactly?” he asked.

  “Just a few months. Why?” The energy between us now felt completely different from seconds ago. The look on his face wasn’t lust-filled anymore. It was something else entirely.

  “I’m just having thoughts.”

  “Potentially murderous thoughts?”

  “Potentially curious thoughts.” He stared at me as the doors opened.

  “Wait,” I said, motioning for him not to step off. “I need to do something before you take another step.”

  “And what is that exactly?”

  “Hold on...” I walked over to the hallway vases and quickly disabled the cameras. I hit the disable button for the camera one over the door and placed a sticker over the new lens.

  “You can come now,” I said to Jake, pulling out the second keycard. “I just have to do those security things for privacy.”

  “Yes, I can tell you highly value privacy...” He followed me to the door.

  I swiped the keycard against the doors, but it flashed red for no-entry instead of green.

  What the...It worked last night...

  I held it against the key pad again and again, becoming increasingly frustrated with every flash of red.

  “Is something wrong?” Jake asked.

  “No, the key is just being strange that’s all.” The light suddenly flashed green, saving me from embarrassment and I held the door open for him.

  I hit the panel of buttons on the wall and the drapes that covered the living room windows slowly drew open, exposing the view of Manhattan.

  “That’s a very nice feature,” Jake said from behind. “Did you have that designed yourself?”

  “No, it was already like that when I moved in.”

  “Interesting.” He walked into the living room and stood by the windows, looking like he belonged in this space more than I did. “It’s a beautiful apartment.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Would you mind giving me a quick tour of your place?”

  “Right now?”

  “Yes. Right now.”

  “Okay...” I walked toward him. “We’re currently standing in the living room and it stretches into the parlor room and the dining room as you can see...” I walked to the left, down the hallway. “There are guest rooms on both sides of this hall with their own bathroom and...” I stepped inside the master bedroom and turned on the lights. “This is my room.”

  “Impressive.” He stepped inside and looked around. “What made you pick beige and black accents for everything in here?”

  “They’re my favorite colors.”

  He smiled. “Even more interesting...Do you have a master bathroom as well?”

  “Yes.” I walked over to the doors that led to it and showed him. “Stone shower, Jacuzzi, and sauna room.” I noticed my bottle of strawberry shampoo standing at the front of the shower rack and walked over to it as I spoke, shoving it back behind the black and blue bottles where it belonged.

  “What’s on the other side of the apartment?”

  “A private library and an office,” I said. “Oh, and I believe we missed the kitchen. Would you like a drink?”

  “Absolutely.”

  I made sure nothing else in the master suite was out of place before leading him into the kitchen. I pulled out a vintage bottle of wine and two glasses, and he followed close
behind me.

  “Should I assume that you have a love for aerial city photography?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “The photos on the wall.” He pointed to the four massive white frames that hung over the fire place. “Do you have a thing for aerial views?”

  “Oh...Yes. Something like that.”

  He leaned against the counter, narrowing his eyes at me, looking sexier than ever, but something was off. “Tell me, Gillian. In what cities were those pictures taken?”

  “I don’t really remember...”

  “You should,” he said. “They’re quite stunning, beautiful enough to be quite memorable. At least, I think so.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck were standing up and my heart was beating erratically, but I wasn’t sure why. “Boston. The top left one is from Boston, that’s where I went to school for undergrad. The others are...” I had no fucking idea, and I’d never paid much attention to them before today. “The top right is New York, the bottom left is London, and the bottom right is Tokyo.”

  “How fascinating.”

  “It is...” Something was telling me to run right now, but I didn’t listen. “You don’t mind if we drink white wine, do you?”

  “That’s the very least of things I mind right now.”

  I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, so I pulled out the utensils drawer, looking for the corkscrew. I moved the knives and spatulas around, wondering where it was and hoping like hell I’d simply misplaced it into another drawer.

  I pulled open drawer after drawer, seeing nothing—silently panicking with every second that passed.

  Shit. Shit. SHIT...

  “Is something wrong?” Jake asked.

  “No.” I opened the final drawer and saw nothing. “I just—”

  “You just what?”

  “Nothing...” I pulled out more drawers. “I just can’t seem to find the corkscrew. I remember placing it right here earlier, but I can’t find it.”

  “That’s probably because I moved it this morning.” He slammed it onto the counter and my head shot up, coming face to face with his glare.

  My eyes widened and I felt all the color leaving my face, felt my jaw dropping out of pure shock. For several seconds, there were no words spoken between the two of us—only anger rolling off of him in waves and complete and utter embarrassment coming from me.