by Anne Connor
“I don’t know.” I smile and put my feet up on the coffee table. “Something like that.”
“But all of that is behind you now, right? Now that you’ve met Kristy?”
“It’s Molly.”
“Oh, you remember her name. How charming. And when you come back home, you aren’t going to just forget her like you did all those other girls in high school? And in college?”
“I thought my brother would be happy that I finally met the love of my life.”
“I’m certainly happy for you. Thrilled. I just think you should be paying more attention to your work. I’m not about to let our whole firm go up in flames just because you’re pussy-whipped by some bridge and tunnel chick.”
“You’re going to regret making that comment when you have to give me and Molly a toast at our wedding. And maybe I should remind you that I negotiated one of our biggest deals while I was on a video conference on a boat off the coast of Crete with one of those lingerie models you mentioned earlier?”
“Fine. You’re right. You’re the best thing that ever happened to this company.”
“Dude, I am the company. With you. We can do whatever we want.”
“You know that’s not true. We have shareholders. Investors. We have to answer to them, buddy. It’s not just you and me running the show anymore. We have a million invisible strings attached to us, pulling us in every direction. Just remember that.”
“You know, maybe I should make a little trip into the city. Take Molly out on the town.”
“Just make sure you know what you’re doing.”
“Do I ever not know what I’m doing?”
I tend to a jammed door in Molly’s next-door neighbor’s apartment, and then make my way to her place. I don’t have her number, but I decide that she won’t mind if I just pop in.
I knock on the door like I usually do, and it opens a few seconds later, with Molly standing there, looking as gorgeous as ever.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, a coy smile creeping across her lips.
“I came to take you out on a date.”
“Oh, really? How do you know I don’t have other plans already?”
“I don’t. But I know you’d cancel them for me.”
“Do these lines really work on women? I mean, do women really go for the cocky type like you?”
“It seems that they do. I mean, here I am, standing in your apartment. Looking at you. Seeing you.”
I take a few steps toward her and brush her hair away from her shoulders. They are delicate, petite, flawless, and perfect.
“That doesn’t mean anything, Drew Anderson. We are neighbors. You’re my super. That’s it.”
“That’s not it,” I whisper in her ear. “That’s not all you want, is it? I can tell you want more. Just one little taste of my cock wasn’t enough for you, was it?”
I feel my jeans get tight against my crotch. I want her so badly, but I want to prove that she isn’t just another hot piece of ass to me.
Because she isn’t. If she had been, I wouldn’t have pursued her after stumbling into her apartment that first time. I would have know she wasn’t interested, and just moved on.
It’s not like me to chase a woman who isn’t interested. I don’t have time for that. And I don’t need it in my life.
There are more than enough women throwing themselves at me.
But again, part of why I was attracted to her, part of why I wanted her so badly, was the fact that she didn’t throw herself at me as soon as she met me, like most women do.
Most women who go to that bar where we first met are only interested in one thing.
Or two things, if you count my money as something they want, next to getting laid.
“You do want it, don’t you?”
I feel her body shudder at my words, even though we aren’t touching.
I slip my arm around her waist and pull her in close to me. Her shampoo smells like lime and lavender, and she’s breathing fast. I can nearly feel her heart beating against mine. I want to tell her to calm down, that we have all the time in the world.
“I...yes,” she sighs into my arms. “I do want it.”
“How bad? I want to hear you say it.”
I put my hands on her chest and cup her perfect breasts through her thin t-shirt. She’s wearing a black lace bra underneath. I love how simply beautiful she is. Her big brown eyes say everything she wants to say, but I love pulling her out of her shell. Cracking her open, and discovering what’s beneath the surface.
“Drew, you know what I want.” She looks up into my eyes and presses her body against mine.
“I want to give it to you. And more. Let me take you out. Tonight. You showed me your turf, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you take me out on a date and didn’t take you out on one in return.”
“That’s very progressive of you,” she says, her eyes sparkling, a smile tugging at the corners of her pretty pink lips.
“I’m a modern man. What can I say? We’ll never go dutch, but I have to take you out, because you took me out. It’s only fair.”
The light from the window in the small apartment illuminates her eyes, and I can see the word yes forming on the tip of her tongue.
“Can I go out in this?” she asks.
“I don’t know. Do a little spin for me.”
She steps aside, tentatively, and walks in a slow, small circle, glancing over her shoulder as her gaze snaps away and then back to me. Her little white sundress is cute, but it isn’t what I have in mind for her.
It’s so strange to date a woman who doesn’t need to be seen in the latest runway trends all the time. It’s refreshing. Molly dresses for herself. She doesn’t need to impress anyone.
Maybe it isn’t fair of me to compare Molly to my ex, but there really is no comparison. They are leagues apart.
“I’m afraid that what you’re wearing isn’t quite appropriate for where I’d like to take you. And would you mind very much if we stopped at my office quickly to check in with my brother? Let him know I haven’t pulled some Joaquin Phoenix stunt on him while I’ve been gone?”
“Ooh! Going to the big man’s office? Are you sure they allow lowly people like me into the building?”
“They would be lucky to have you.”
“So I finally get to see you in your natural habitat?”
“Baby,” I say, stepping toward her, looping my arms around her waist and pulling her close to me, “this is my natural habitat. This is where I belong.”
Her breasts are pressed against my chest, her breath becoming rapid and heavy. I want to slip my hand up her shirt and feel every inch of her, drink her in and feel her. But I don’t do it.
It takes all of my energy not to, but I don’t. I have more important things to do with her first.
Molly
Drew’s lips are dangerously close to mine. Too close for me to know what I’m doing. Too close to be able to make a good decision.
The whole thing is freaking crazy. Following this guy I barely know into his car and driving off with him? Letting him into my apartment and my bed is one thing. Now I’m going to let him drive away with me?
But his eyes are so clear and green and honest, his face so perfect and his body so captivating. I feel like my body has been taken away and my brain is just along for the ride.
I want him to touch me all over. My body is screaming for it. The heat inside me, building up, threatening to be released at his slightest touch - I can barely take it, and the sense memory of the night we spent together slips over me like a wave.
His lips brush against mine again, like they had at the open house we crashed. It’s like I’m playing dress-up with someone else’s life, and I know the clothes don’t quite fit me. The house, the backyard, none of it is for for me. I’m a single woman in a small apartment and not in my dream dollhouse that Drew Anderson would be able to buy in a second.
His lips catch mine and caress me gently but hungrily, the
tip of his tongue sliding against mine. When he pulls away, I realize that I haven’t been breathing. It’s like I was dreaming of falling, and suddenly wake up when our kiss breaks.
“Go take your clothes off,” he commands with a whisper, his fingers wrapped softly around my neck, his thumb caressing my cheek. “And put on something a little bit more formal, but something you’re comfortable in. Every guy is going to be jealous anyway, because you’re so fucking beautiful. It really doesn’t matter what you have on.”
We get into what Drew described as his sweet car. I’ve never been very impressed by so-called “sweet” cars, but the way Drew revs the engine is cute.
“I hope that isn’t for my benefit, tough guy,” I say, glancing over at him.
“Not at all. That’s for the benefit of any of the gearheads in your neighborhood who might be able to hear. You know a car like this attracts attention.”
“And do you like that, Drew Anderson?”
“Sometimes. I like my toys. I’m not too big to admit it.”
He shifts into reverse and backs us out of the space he snatched outside the building, throws it into drive and speeds to the corner before hitting the breaks at the stop sign.
“This is the problem with driving in the city and the boroughs. Too many short streets. Too many stop signs. Not enough room to roll the windows down and let the car do its thing.”
“You know,” I say, “when cars were first on the market, the guys who were really into them thought of them as an extension of the body.”
“I guess that explains why I know so many knuckleheads obsessed with their big cars.”
I bite my lip and know that Drew has no reason to be obsessed with his big car other than the pure pleasure of having a pretty toy. He doesn’t have to compensate for any shortcomings.
“Then what’s your excuse?” I ask, glancing over at him and gripping the armrests as he merges onto the highway.
“I just like it. It’s for me. Now, granted, like I said, I like that other guys look at it and like it. But it’s me who likes it the most.”
He takes a hand off the steering wheel and puts it on mine.
“That’s why it’s been so nice staying here in Brooklyn for a while. There’s no pretense. I don’t have to keep up the stupid appearances for my brother, try to look good.”
“You do that without trying, Drew.”
“You think I look good? Do you like me better in my suit or in my work clothes? You like me better with no clothes at all?”
My stomach fills with butterflies and I squeeze the armrests tighter as he picks up speed and approaches the bridge into Manhattan.
“Actually, this has been a very interesting few days.”
“Anyone ever done to you what I’ve been able to?”
“I can honestly say they haven’t.”
“I have a little something planned for you for tonight. Something I think you’re going to like.”
My panties are getting wet at the idea of having him in my bed again. His hand holds onto mine and his arm flexes, and I remember how good he is with his hands.
We get out of the car in front of his building, on Madison and 65th Street, and he tosses the keys to a parking attendant outside the lot on the ground floor of the building. It isn’t far from my office, but it might as well be a world away.
The lobby of his building has a series of modern, abstract statues and a fountain in the middle, and a fully-staffed security desk, even though it’s after hours.
Drew is dressed to kill. I noticed his clothing when we were back in Brooklyn, but somehow, they didn’t register in my mind. I think it was because he looked so out of place in his duds. Like a fish out of water. He’s wearing a jet-black suit and perfect shoes, and he’s trimmed his beard. I love a longer beard, but I also love how his manscaping is done perfectly to show off his hard jawline.
I settled on the little black dress I wore to my college graduation. I was a few pounds thinner back then, and the way the dress fits now looks better than it used to.
When I came out of my room to show Drew, the look on his face said everything.
What the hell am I doing? I should be at home in some yoga pants and vegging out in front of the TV.
I do not need to be going out on some kind of fancy date with a man who is way out of my tax bracket and who will soon realize I can’t keep up with him. It’s a good thing it’s just a fling.
Just keep reminding yourself of that: just a fling! Harmless and fun. Not a big deal.
“Now, don’t embarrass me in front of my brother,” Drew says, waving to the security guys at the front desk as all of the electronic turnstiles open simultaneously. “I know you’re a lot smarter than me, but there’s no reason to remind my brother of it.”
“I’ll try not to bring up any high-brow topics during our little pop-in. So, nothing about the large hadron collider? What about the multiverse? Speaking of, are you, like, microchipped, or something?”
“What do you mean?” He taps on the up button in the elevator bank and our elevator arrives.
“I mean, you didn’t have to swipe a keycard or anything.”
“Oh. The guys buzzed us in.”
“Wow. In my building, if I want to bring a guest in, they have to show a form of ID and sign their name in blood.”
“Well, it helps when you own the building.”
“You...own this whole building?”
“No, not the whole thing. 50% of it. Just the good half. My brother owns the rest.”
We step onto the elevator and the car ushers us to the top floor.
“The Penthouse, huh? That’s pretty fancy.”
Drew lets out a little chuckle.
“Is this why you’re with me? Because I have money?”
He grabs me by the waist. I’m not expecting it. He draws me deeply into him and our mouths collide, the stubble of his beard against my chin a shock to my body, in deep contrast to the warmth and softness of his mouth on mine.
“Yes, Drew. It’s because you have money. That’s why I’m with you right now.”
Wait. I’m with him?
I guess I am. I can’t help myself.
Money is the last thing on my mind, but it’s absolutely at the forefront, too. It’s just another thing Drew has and I don’t, another thing that would make him realize how different he and I are.
“It’s not because of all of my other good qualities?”
He slips one of his hands along the front of my dress and locks eyes with me as he slips his fingers up and inside the hemline.
“Drew, what are you doing?”
I breath the words heavily, my question hanging in the air.
“Tell me you don’t want this,” he teases as he slips his hand into my panties. “Tell me you don’t want me to fuck you right now in this elevator.
I want it more than anything in this moment.
Drew Anderson has turned me into some crazy lady, making out in an elevator and not knowing what I’m doing.
The elevator dings and his hands and mouth are off me before I know what’s happening. It’s as if I’m in a state of suspended animation - like the moment was frozen in amber, and time is moving along without me.
He does that to me. I should have just stayed on the elevator and taken it down to the first floor and said goodbye to him for good.
“Molly,” he says, exiting the elevator ahead of me. “This is us. You coming?”
He doesn’t know how much his words mean.
“Yeah. I’m coming. And I’ll have you know,” I say, speeding up to keep pace with him, “that your money is most certainly not why I like you.”
“Ah,” he says. “I know. But just so I have this straight, you are admitting, right now, that you like me.”
“Oh,” I say, slowing down and stopping.
He stands before me and I try not to stare at him, but he’s so confident, so cocky, so infuriating, that I don’t know what to say.
“It’s okay
. I sort of like you, too,” he says, slipping his keycard out of his pocket and holding the door open for me as I enter the vestibule of his office space.
“So this is where all the magic happens?”
“Here, and in my bedroom,” he says, flipping on the lights in the entryway. “But you already know that.”
My cheeks blush and my face gets hot.
“Right.”
Everything inside me is screaming for Drew. I almost feel embarrassed that this guy I barely know is doing this to me.
To me - even tempered, level headed, walking down the straight and narrow Molly. My middle name is practically “stability.” And here is this brazen guy who just swept into my life and took me away with him.
Took me to the executive suite of one of the city’s leading commercial real estate firms, and after hours, no less.
“Molly, would you mind chilling out here for a few minutes? I’ve got to go check in with my brother.”
“Of course.”
“Do you want anything? Water, coffee?”
“What, no caviar?”
“Let me check the kitchen. I’m pretty sure I asked Sarah to order caviar the last time she put in a WB Mason order.”
Is he serious? Is caviar a thing rich people really eat as an evening snack?
As he walks away, I sit down in the waiting area near the front desk. The place is certainly beautiful. It’s all new and bright, very unlike the office space I work in. I’m nearly in a basement, with stacks of newspapers and folders everywhere. And my work area doesn’t have any windows. I have to sneak a glance past my boss to get a view of a sliver of sky from outside his office.
Drew comes back a moment later with a bottle of Evian water and granola bar.
“In case you need something to hold you over until dinner,” he says.
“This is a very beautiful office you have here.”
“Oh, you like it? Want me to come to your job and design a new interior?”
He quickly walks away, disappearing down a long hallway lined with offices, and takes a right turn out of my view. I can only hear his muffled voice, and the voice of another man.
