All of Me: Liam & Sophie

by Callie Harper

  “Uh-oh, you’re not taking yourself off the market, are you? Going to be a lot of broken hearts around here if you settle down.”

  “Nothing planned,” I assured him, giving him the one-armed man hug good-bye.

  I made it through another hour hanging out at the beach. The whole bikini-in-the-wind-chill thing started wearing on my nerves. She finally got the picture and changed course, latching on to a much more willing recipient for her flirtations. I headed to a grill where a guy I knew worked and grabbed a burger. Then a friend and I stopped by a party at a vacation rental. The average age seemed about 22 and everyone was acting like they were extras in Animal House. All I could keep thinking about was the family that owned the property and how much they’d have to fork out to cover the damages.

  A girl in a sundress dress that ended at her crotch sat herself down right on my lap.

  “Wanna play a game?” she asked, drunk as a skunk.

  “Not right now, kiddo.” I patted her leg and helped her to her feet again.

  “You suck,” she spat out as she wobbled off through the party.

  That was my cue to leave. Some people waited until the fat lady sang. I waited until the drunk girls started telling me I sucked.

  The only drink I’d had all night was the beer with my buddy by the beach, so I drove off steady into the night. Unfortunately, my mind was fixed as steady as my wheels and all I could keep thinking about was goddamned Sophie Douglas. Standing there in that simple white dress, looking so much more beautiful with so much less effort than any woman I’d seen anywhere that night. Or ever, maybe. It fucking sucked.

  When I got home, I fixed myself a drink. I didn’t do it often, what with my whole not-wanting-to-be-my-father complex. But I needed a drink that night if I had any prayer of falling asleep. It was hard enough with my firefighter’s clock set to wake at all hours of the night.

  She’d looked so good it had hurt. So many years had passed, I’d told myself I’d exaggerated her beauty. No one actually looked incandescent, as if lit from a candle within. But she did. She fucking glowed and she held herself like a sculpture, a posed work of art. Her creamy shoulders exposed in that sundress, her skin like silk, her hair falling in tendrils, long enough to curve at the swell of her breast.

  Downing the rest of my drink, I decided I’d take a shower and work some heat and steam into my body. Stripped down, I stepped under the pulse of water, turned up almost to the point of scalding. Hands up against the wall, I let the water pound on my back muscles.

  And my hand traveled down where it inevitably did, wrapping around my already-hard cock. Sophie in that dress. Her soft, pink lips slightly parted as she looked at me, eyes open wide. Her slim waist, perfect for slipping my hands around. She was so flexible, so pliable, so eager and ready to explore. At 20 years old, I’d had no idea what I was doing. Her body was a playground and I’d lost myself in it, the two of us learning together what felt good.

  Now I knew what I liked best. The games I played had grown in sophistication, deepening in emotional and physical complexity as I’d realized I was a dom. I’d had plenty of subs to train and play with over the years, to cultivate and hone my skills. I knew how to own and control pleasure like no other.

  It was Sophie’s flesh that I wanted to extract it out of. My cock swelled in my hand, so hard it was painful but I deliberately delayed my release. Slowly stroking, I pictured her in that white dress, so innocent, looking so virginal. There was a counter in the back room of that historic building. I pictured bending her down over it, my hand at the back of her neck as I held her down.

  She’d be nervous and unsure, maybe ask me in a timid voice what I was doing. In answer, I’d push her dress up her back so I could see the curve of her waist, the flare of her hips. I’d rip off her panties, exposing the pale swell of her vulnerable ass as she stood there shaking. Without any warning, I’d bring my large, rough hand down on her cheek to give her a sharp spank.

  Her cry of surprise and shock would only drive me on further, fuel the boiling in my blood. I’d spank her again, hard, leaving a mark on her sensitive skin, then drive down on her again and again, my hand merciless, my punishment severe. Until that moment, that golden tipping point, when all the tension in her body, all the anxiety, confusion and pain suddenly melted into a moan of needy pleasure.

  I could picture it, the slight curve in her lower spine as she offered herself up, showing me she wanted more. Needed more. Then I’d have her and could take her however I wanted. She’d surrender to me completely, and that emotional connection was what I most craved with her, the intense intimacy that formed through the meeting of our true natures. Stripping away how we had to behave, what we thought was right, conventions and requirements and roles. Just us, Sophie my sub and I her dom, teaching her how much pleasure she could possibly experience.

  It was picturing her pussy that finished me. I imagined bringing my hand down, first hard, then soft as she started moaning. Coaxing her feet farther apart. Kneeling down to inspect my girl after her spanking, what would I find? Her pussy, glistening with need, wet with arousal, begging me for so much more. I came hot and hard, my seed spilling out against the tile wall, my groans swallowed by the hot pulse of the shower.

  Immediately afterward, regret flooded over me. What was I doing, jacking off to thoughts of Sophie? Especially when I could be out having actual sex with real women who wanted nothing more than a night of pleasure. What was wrong with me that I still chose Sophie, even just a fantasy of her, above all else?

  That wasn’t going to happen again. I lathered up with a cake of soap, washing off the wall, cleaning every inch of my body in the hot water. That had been a moment of weakness, but now it had passed. I’d been taken by surprise seeing Sophie today, so a moment was to be expected. But now I’d had it, and it was over.

  From that moment on I’d keep better control of myself. After all, that’s what I was good at, wielding control. I knew how to keep myself on lockdown, how to shut off, resist, and not think about what I most wanted. I’d done it for seven years now. I could do it for the rest of my life, no problem.

  5

  Sophie

  “Didja do it?” Regina looked at me expectantly from behind the counter. “Are you my new neighbor?”

  “I’m still in the closing phase. But, yes, I think I’m going to be your new neighbor!” Even as I said the words, I only half believed it myself. The sellers had come down in price in exchange for a ten-day close. I knew that seemed suspiciously rushed, but as impatient as I felt even ten days seemed like too long.

  “Shut up!” She clapped her hands in delight and ran around the side to come give me a big hug. “Welcome to the hood!”

  “Thank you.” I hugged her back, glad at least one other person was happy about it. Well, Eloise was happy, too. That made three of us. Everyone else thought I was insane.

  My mother had simply refused to believe it was happening. “You want to buy what?” Cocktail in one hand, the other on her hip, she’d stared me down like a pro. But she forgot I’d learned from her, and I could stare right back.

  “I’m going to buy the building at 11 Cherry Street. I’m going to live on the second floor and operate a dance studio on the first.”

  “You’re going to open up a shop.” She paused for dramatic effect, the word “shop” dropping like a nasty swear. “And live above it?”

  Her words dripped with such disdain it was almost funny. But if she’d hoped to dissuade me, her objections only made me even more certain I had to do it.

  “That’s absurd.” She’d left the room. Later she’d tried telling me she wouldn’t give me a penny, which of course I didn’t need anyway because not only had I been earning my own money for years, I also had a trust fund fully in my own name. Later she’d tried guilt, “but I’ll never see you,” and shame, “what will people think?” But it didn’t matter. I was set on it.

  It was a lot more fun to talk about it with Regina.

&nbs
p; “OK, come here for a second. I need to give you some cookies.” Regina put a couple of cookies into a bag and handed them to me. “You’re going to need these.”

  “Thank you,” I laughed, insisting on putting five dollars into the tip jar. She was right. I was going to need those cookies. I had an uphill battle on my hands. My next stop of the day was the Naugatuck Historical Society where I was making a daily effort to work toward a compromise. I’d brought them homemade cookies, jars of locally made cranberry jam and honey, and yesterday an expensive bottle of champagne. Today I figured I’d bring them a couple of coffees from Cuppa Joe to go. Shameless attempts at bribery, I knew, but those people were tough old birds. They also talked slowly, processed slowly, and needed to state their case in nine different ways, so I was giving them all of my patience.

  I’d needed a project and boy I had one now. I hadn’t thought about buying the whole building, just leasing the bottom floor, but once the realtor gave me a tour of the place she explained that the owner wanted to sell, not lease. It was a package deal, the whole building.

  I saw why no one had bought it, why it had lain vacant for years. But to me, it was the perfect solution. I needed to move out of my mother’s house, with all of her anger and judgment. The words not spoken fairly screamed from the walls and it made me feel crazy. I’d been living on my own for seven years now, or at least not with my parents. I’d had a constantly changing stream of roommates, other dancers and then George, for about a year. But this time I needed to be on my own, living by myself, getting my head screwed on right. And hopefully, never running into Liam Connolly again.

  After buying a couple of coffees and offering my profuse thanks, I walked the couple of blocks over to the historical society, munching a cookie along the way. The streets were flooded with tourists, swelling the island’s population to several thousand, so there was really no reason to keep looking over my shoulder for Liam. But I kept wondering if I’d see him anyway.

  The nerve of that man. He’d treated me so coldly, like I was an enemy. He still looked infuriatingly hot as hell, so tall and chiseled with muscle, even bigger than when I’d known him last. And those eyes? I’d had to catch my breath when he’d looked at me full on. At first I’d seen such depth in them, such emotion. But when he’d returned for the inspection after his phone call, he’d been closed, rude and dismissive.

  When had he gotten a huge chip on his shoulder? My wealthy background had never been an issue in the past. We’d laughed about it when our differences arose, and I’d always appreciated that he didn’t make me feel weird or spoiled. That had clearly changed. Now he seemed to assume I was an entitled brat trying to dismiss the rules like they just didn’t apply to me.

  Thankfully, before he’d showed up, I actually had had the foresight to call the historic society. The building dated back to the 1700s. I’d been on Naugatuck long enough to know how stuffy and protective people got about old buildings. I even understood the attachment to the town’s past, to a point. The downtown was charming. I loved how sleepy they’d kept everything with the ban on chain stores and the lack of traffic lights. Naugatuck had a character all its own, and I’d never been anyplace that compared.

  But they went a little far with it. Like with my building. The first answer I got when I called the historic society was a clipped response that all of the information I needed could be found on their website. There, in fine print, I found all sorts of restrictions and prohibitions. Honestly, before Liam showed up I’d been on the fence.

  But once he told me I couldn’t do it, I found myself vehemently asserting that I could. Who did he think he was, telling me there was no way it could happen? Like it was impossible. People bought stores on the island. They figured out how to do it.

  I entered into the historical society office, smile on my face. The building was ancient, of course, with awkwardly small doorways and low ceilings. People had been smaller 250 years ago and hadn’t exactly favored an open floor plan. But baby steps, I reminded myself, taking a deep breath. I needed both determination and patience if I was going to get what I wanted.

  A tiny woman who had to be in her 80s sat behind the desk today. The entire place was staffed with volunteers, but their pockets were deep and their influence over the town fierce. She wore a cardigan sweater over a long-sleeved dress even though the temperature was in the high 70s.

  “Oh, no thank you.” She turned down my offer of coffee or a cookie. I sat down and explained my situation, how I was in the process of purchasing a historic building, how much respect I had for the architectural intent, etc.

  “Is this the dance studio?” she asked. And if I was not mistaken, there was a twinkle in her eye.

  “Yes it is, ma’am. I’ve been dancing professional ballet in New York for the last seven years and now I’d like to teach.”

  “I’m a dancer myself.” Now I definitely saw a twinkle in her eye. A flicker of hope lit in my heart.

  “Would you like to come see the space?” I asked eagerly.

  “Oh, I’ve seen it,” she dismissed me.

  “Yes, but I’d love to show you what I’m envisioning. What it could become if we can figure out a way to preserve and protect the space while also ensuring the safety of the children learning dance. What was your name again?” See how good I was getting? Honestly, I thought it would be fun to offer dance classes to all ages, but “think of the children” always seemed to resonate well with people.

  “I’m Julia. And you say you have some ideas?” she asked, that spark of interest back in her crinkly blue eyes.

  “I do. And I’d love to share them with you.”

  After that, all it took was a call to her driver who happened to be waiting around back. Ah, the wealthy of Naugatuck. We rode over the two blocks, and Julia brushed aside my offer to take her arm as we walked to the doorway. Thankfully, I remembered the code for the realtor’s lock box and we were able to enter.

  The place had a real feel to it, depth and character. We both stood there for a moment, appreciating the high ceilings, the wide-windowed view of the ocean.

  “Over here on this wall, we could have mirrors.” I gestured along the far side. “A barre could go there, and a piano could go here.” I walked over to the corner. “And there’s a back room that’s perfect for a changing area and even a little bathroom that would need some updating, but the plumbing is there.” From the 1940s, I didn’t add. No need emphasizing the shortcomings when I finally had an attentive ear.

  Julia looked around, a smile playing at her lips. Then, with a happy sigh, she said, “This could be a lovely dance studio.”

  “Couldn’t it!” I twirled around, unable to stop my feet from moving. I’d brought Eloise by yesterday and she’d danced her way across the wooden floor as well. It seemed to inspire movement.

  “Well,” she nodded, deep in thought. “Let’s see what we can do.”

  “Really?” A smile burst across my face. She’d just said let us, as if she and I were on the same team.

  “I think Harold may be the right person to talk to.” She made her way over to the window, a dreamy look on her features. “He’ll know how to handle this.”

  “Fantastic. Do you want to give me his number? Or should I stop by—?”

  “Oh, hush now.” Julia waved at me like I was an overeager puppy. Which I was kind of acting like at the moment.

  “I’ll speak with Harold,” she assured me. “These things can’t be rushed.”

  “Well, I am in the process of closing right now. It would be great if we could get some of these questions answered, figure out a course of action.”

  “Yes, yes.” Julia swatted at me again to calm down and started making her way again to the doorway. “You’ve got plenty to keep you busy. You talk to all the people who can do things to this beautiful space and see what they have to say. I’ll see about getting you permission to make some changes.”

  “Oh, thank you so much.” I wanted to give her a hug, but she looked
so tiny I was worried I’d crack a rib.

  At the door, she turned and gave me a smile. “This is going to be fun.”

  “It is, isn’t it?”

  Feeling lighter than I had in months, maybe years, I made sure she got back into her car safe and sound and then returned to my sunlit studio. I’d already come by with a dustpan and broom plus a couple of rags and some Windex. The place looked like it was almost ready to open. How hard could it be to fix a little wiring? I just needed the right people who knew how to work on historic buildings. And now, with Julia on my side, maybe I’d get some more green lights to move ahead.

  “This still a good time?” A guy in jeans and a T-shirt poked his head into the studio.

  “Is it noon already?” I’d called an electrician the day before to come take a look at the project. I’d found him on Yelp and been thrilled when he’d said he had time to come stop by. So far, in the middle of the busy summer season, most of my calls had gone straight to voice mail, and those who did respond, frequently told me they wouldn’t have any time in the coming weeks.

  “Yup.” He walked in and started looking around. Once he got into the back room, he started making the disgusted kinds of grunts and groans of a gourmet forced to sit through a meal of fast food.

  “You see this?” He pointed to some exposed wiring, up at a corner in the ceiling. I’d wondered about that. “I couldn’t even get at that because they won’t let me touch an inch of this plaster. Which, by the way, all needs to come down.” He poked a finger at a patch that looked suspiciously crumbly and, sure enough, it disintegrated like powdered sugar.

  “And do you want to try to keep that a bathroom?” He pointed and made a face like keeping it would be the craziest idea he’d ever heard.

  “We’re going to need a bathroom for the students.”

  “Pffst.” He blew air out of his nostrils like an angry bull. “Naw, I’m not touchin’ this project.” He started walking out of the studio.