by Amy Brent
Between the arrival of our meals, we discussed all the new things going on with us since I had seen Steven last. I told him all about my boss and how needy he had been lately. He told me about new developments with his app, and the potential new direction he was going to take it.
“Oh, Andrew says hi, by the way,” Steven said after a sip of wine. “I saw him yesterday evening. He asked about you, so naturally, he knows the whole Backstreet Boys fiasco as well.”
I groaned and buried my face in my palms. “You’re just the worst,” I lied.
Steven only seemed encouraged by my humiliation. He laughed mostly to himself, but when he realized that I was genuinely mortified, he apologized. “Listen, things like that happen to people all the time.”
“Oh, really?” I asked skeptically. I took a sip of wine and shook my head. “I highly doubt things like that happen to you. You don’t get embarrassed.”
“Sure I do.”
“Liar.”
“I am not.” Steven laughed. “Two weekends ago I had a terrible evening with a girl who insisted on calling me ‘Kent’ because she thought I looked like Superman. Also, I should note, she was drunk when she arrived at dinner and smelled like she had just rolled out of a smoke room.”
“Wow, that must have been terrible for you,” I said sarcastically. “How dare she insult you by suggesting you look like a Kryptonian God.”
“You’re such a dork.”
I shrugged my shoulders. That was true, and he and I both knew it. I held up one finger and fixed him under my accusing stare. “Let me guess, despite your humiliation,” I said while performing air quotes, “you still went through with the whole date, took her home, and made sweet love to her.” I hated that the words were coming out of my mouth, but it was a defense mechanism. I knew I could never be the kind of girl that Steven laid with or loved. Not that I had ever heard of him loving anyone besides his mother. So I had to settle for the friend who sat and listened to him talk about the women he had sex with. Sometimes, I would go home and envision myself as one of those women.
“Well,” he said, leaning back in his chair and draping his arm over the backrest. “I didn’t not sleep with her, that’s for sure. She was hot, and definitely kinky, and definitely worth the awkward meal.”
I rolled my eyes to conceal how uncomfortable I was. “So predictable, Steven Marx, so predictable.”
“And you’re not, Allie Wright? Let me guess, you spent your weekend cuddled up in your pajamas drinking tea and watching TV.”
“That’s beside the point,” I said defensively.
“I’m not trying to make a point. I’m just saying. Don’t judge me and my extracurricular activities when you don’t have any.”
“I don’t want to fuck strangers, okay?”
Steven winked at me. I knew I would be thinking about that while I tried to fall asleep later.
“Fucking strangers is great. No strings attached. No expectations. Just sex. I’m telling you, you should try it.”
“Mmm, no thanks. I’ll stick to watching my Netflix shows, thank you very much.”
“Suit yourself,” Steven said as the waitress arrived with our food.
While we ate, we discussed less sensitive things, which I was grateful for. We laughed a lot, as always, and shared food off of each other’s plates. This was routine for us; Steven ordered steak while I ordered pasta tossed in a creamy marinara sauce. This way we both got the best of both worlds. Sometimes, if I were really lucky, Steven would feed me pieces of meat from his fork, and I would pretend for the briefest moment that I was his date. His real date.
When both of our plates were empty, I dabbed my mouth with my napkin, leaned back, and patted my belly. “Well, that hit the spot,” I said happily.
Steven agreed and plucked the dessert menu from its holder beside the salt and pepper. “Sure was. Want to share dessert? I’ve been craving chocolate for at least four days now and haven’t gotten around to satisfying my sweet tooth.”
I could relate. I’d been craving Steven for eight years and had never been able to satisfy that itch.
“Sure,” I said, “I’ll have a couple bites.”
“Uh huh, says the girl who’s infamous for promising she isn’t hungry but eats a man’s whole order of french fries five minutes later.”
“You know me too well,” I smiled, resting my elbows on the table and placing my chin in my hands. I watched Steven read the menu. His eyes scanned the text back and forth, and the muscles in his sharp jaw worked while he deliberated what he wanted. I sighed.
Steven looked up. “Everything alright?”
“What?”
“You sighed, you okay?”
“Oh, yes,” I said, feeling my cheeks starting to burn. “I didn’t even notice I did it. Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, you’re allowed to sigh.”
“Right,” I said, chewing the inside of my cheek. I resented the flutter of nervousness that started in my belly.
Steven tossed the menu down and scanned the room for our server. He really was craving something sweet. I watched his blue eyes settle on the waitress, and he waved her over. He ordered a brownie of some sort that I was sure would be the size of his fist. Then he turned back to me and mimicked my pose by resting his chin in his hands.
“So,” he said. “What’s your plan for the rest of the night?”
“Well, now that you mention it, I was wondering if you wanted to come over. I have popcorn with cheddar seasoning, and was thinking we could watch a movie or something?” I had deliberately mentioned the cheddar seasoning. I knew it was his favorite, and he had a hard time ever turning down salty snacks.
Steven pouted his lips at me and shook his head. My heart sank before he started speaking. “Sorry, Allie, but tonight is no good for me. I have an early start and a busy day tomorrow. Rain check?”
“Yes, of course,” I said, unable to stop the gut-wrenching thought of Steven going home to invite another woman over so that he could screw her brains out. I knew the sorts of things he got up to in his spare time. I didn’t resent him for it. I just wished it was me, and that I was enough for him.
The brownie appeared in front of us along with our bill. Steven swiped it off the table and insisted he pay the tab. I put up a small fight but conceded when he threatened to not let me have any of the brownie. We shared the sweet treat, and I left all the whip cream and caramel drizzle for him.
When the plate looked as if it had been licked clean, we both collected our jackets and made for the door. We emerged on the sidewalk, pressed up against each other to ward off the chill in the night air. Steven waved down a cab for me, and being the good friend that he was, paid my fare. He also told the cabbie in a somewhat protective, threatening voice, to make sure that he got me home safely and waited outside my house until I was inside.
“Steven, honestly, I can take care of myself,” I said as he crouched down in front of the open back door.
He watched me fasten my seatbelt. “Unless Backstreet Boys is playing. Then it’s mayhem.”
The laughter that bubbled up out of me made Steven laugh. He leaned in and kissed my cheek, squeezed my shoulder, and wished me a good night. Then he closed the door, and I watched him through the back window of the cab as we drove down the street. He stood with his hands in the pockets of his jeans and watched us drive away until we disappeared around the corner.
I sighed and fell heavily against the leather seat.
“Good date?” the cabbie asked me, looking at me in his rear-view mirror.
“No,” I said. “Not really.”
“Shame, maybe the next one, right?”
I offered him a forced smile and nodded, then spent the rest of the fifteen-minute drive home staring out the window, wondering if Steven was on his way home to meet one of the many girls whose numbers were saved in his phone.
I tried to reassure myself that he was not. That instead, he would be spending the night alone in his own bed in prepara
tion for the busy day he had told me was ahead of him tomorrow. I failed miserably at it and continued to dwell in self-pity until the cab pulled up to the curb in front of my home.
I thanked the driver and made my way through the gate that led across a small garden to the steps of the duplex. I fumbled for my keys in my bag, pulled them out, and unlocked the door. Once it was opened, I turned back to the cab driver and gave him thumbs up. He drove away with a small wave, and I locked up behind me. Then I headed up the single flight of stairs to my second level apartment.
I let myself in, breathed in the relaxing smell of lavender and pine in my apartment, hung my jacket on the hooks beside my door, and blew out an exasperated breath. My time with Steven was always wonderful. It was the hours after my time with him that were so terrible.
I kicked off my heels and unzipped the gold zipper up the side of my dress. I tossed it carelessly over the back of the sofa as I trekked through the living room in my bra and panties. I went to the bathroom first, where I took my makeup off and readied myself for bed. Once my mouth was minty fresh, and I had applied all my necessary lotions for the evening, I went to my bedroom and climbed under my duvet.
I leaned over and fished my diary out from my nightstand table and flicked on the crystal lamp above it. I grabbed a pen, rolled on to my stomach, and began writing. I needed to get my feelings out if I had any hope of falling asleep.
Monday, October 2nd
I went to The Italian Corner tonight with Steven. He was wearing that shirt that I like—the one with the slightly open collar. God, he looked good. Why does he always have to look so good?
He paid for dinner, like always, and we shared our food. He told the cabbie to get me home safely. He even instructed him to wait before he left to make sure I made it inside. He’s such a gentleman. Sometimes.
I invited him over for movies and popcorn tonight, but he said he had an early morning. We’ll probably get together sometime soon, though. We usually do. It’s not very often that he passes up on our movie nights. Which is why I think he’s going home to a girl. Probably a girl he met at some bar.
I wish I could be one of those girls to him. No. I wish I could be the girl to him. I can imagine him knocking on my front door, all flustered from racing to catch up with me after dinner, telling me how badly he wants me. How he wants to fuck me. How he wants to lay me out and fill me with his rock hard cock. I want him so bad. All the things I would do to him and let him do to me. I would literally let him do anything he wanted. Anything. I just want to know what it would be like. What he would feel like inside me.
I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want Steven Marx.
I closed my diary and tossed it on the floor beside the bed. I rolled onto my back and pulled my panties down my legs and over my ankles. They joined my diary on the floor. Then I stared up at the ceiling.
Sleep would be elusive—especially now that my brain was filled with images of Steven and I naked and tangled up together. I needed a release. My pussy felt swollen and tight. It was begging to be touched.
I slipped one hand under the covers and began to tease myself. All the while, I imagined it was Steven’s tongue. He was settled between my thighs. I could see only the top of his dark head as he licked me, slowly and deliberately, up and down, up and down, until my body couldn’t take it anymore.
I imagined him sliding a finger inside me while his tongue still flicked over my clit, tasting me.
I moaned as I pressed my finger inside myself. I pressed up, right where I liked it and used my thumb against my clit. As the pleasure mounted, my mind raced with wilder thoughts.
Steven getting to his knees between my legs. Then, pushing my knees apart and lowering himself down above me, his giant cock hovering at my entrance. Steven pressing just the tip of himself inside me and teasing me. Then, in a deep thrust, giving me all of him. Steven fucking me with everything he had.
Me, shaking with an orgasm, his name on my lips.
Chapter 3
Steven
When I woke I was lying on my back, and my dick had pitched a tent over my hips of its own volition. I had a meeting in less than two hours, and there was no way I was going to sit through it with blue balls. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and padded to my bathroom, where I started the shower and brushed my teeth until the water was hot.
I stepped beneath the scalding water and let it hit my shoulders while I pumped conditioner into my palm. Then I gripped my shaft, which was still standing at attention, and began to slowly work my hand up and down the length of it.
Flashes of the girl from the club played behind my eyelids like a slideshow. I saw her clutching her breasts as she arched her back like an exotic dancer. I heard her shallow breaths of pleasure. I could feel her hot breath against my neck.
Then, quite suddenly, those flashes were replaced by something else. Allie in that tight black dress from the previous night—the one with the gold zipper up the side that followed the dramatic curve of her hip and slender waist. Allie’s long, raven colored hair and big round dark eyes. Allie’s breasts, round and perky, peeking out of the top of the open V-neck of that dress.
I came quickly and found myself leaning against one wall of my shower to catch my breath. Allie Wright had always been a girl who caught my eye. More than that, she had been the kind of girl to make me laugh. I caught myself smiling as the water continued to spray against my back and shoulders.
The office was bustling with activity. Upon my arrival, the receptionist, Sherry, looked up from her computer screen and gave me a brilliant white smile. “Good morning, Mr. Marx,” she chimed, tucking her strawberry blonde curls behind her ear. “Everyone is ready for you in the conference room.”
“Morning, Sherry, thank you.”
I was aware of her eyes on me as I walked around her desk and headed down the hall towards the conference room. I adjusted my suit jacket and took a deep, even breath in preparation for the meeting.
I had pitched my app idea to the company a few weeks ago, and they had recruited a board of investors for me to meet with today. If all went well during this meeting, things for me could change rather quickly. I knew the app had the potential to earn a lot of money, and I knew it was something worth pursuing. Somehow, I had to convince the investors of the same thing.
I walked into the conference room with confidence. I was greeted by friendly smiles from the ten men and four women in the room. They appeared to have all been waiting patiently. They all had a cup of coffee in front of them, as well as notebooks, laptops, pens, and their phones.
I took my seat next to the only familiar face in the room, Roy Kingston, and said hello to everyone. They said hello back, and Roy stood to make the introductions. Once everyone in the room was properly acquainted, I stood and assumed my position at the head of the table as Roy had instructed me to do last week when we ran through the meeting in a practice session. He gave me an encouraging nod before I began my pitch.
I walked the potential investors through the functions of the app while explaining to them the benefits it posed to consumers. “The public is your target demographic,” I said. “So having an app that caters to everyone, regardless of who they are, is a sure-fire way to put you on the path to success. Everyone has to go shopping. For some people, it’s every day. For others it might be every week, month, three months, what have you. With this app, they can track the items they want, locate which stores are offering it for the best price, and place the item on hold with a five dollar nonrefundable deposit. The deposit is how you get the buy-in from the retail companies.”
From there I proceeded to list off the names of companies that had already agreed to partner with me on this project. Roy had printed out lists of all the companies, and he handed them out to everyone at the table while I continued with the presentation.
By the time I was finished, my confidence was at an all-time high. Every single person in the room was smiling at me, and I was sure that I had at least f
ifty percent of their buy-ins.
When the meeting ended, everyone stayed behind to shake my hand. I thanked them all for their time and told them I was looking forward to hearing from them, as Roy had told me I should last week. He stood in the corner, watching approvingly, while I went through the motions of being a sophisticated businessman for the first time in my life. It seemed, much to my surprise, to be working seamlessly.
Soon it was just me and Roy in the room. He closed the door, turned back to me, and gave me two thumbs up.
“That couldn’t have gone any better,” he said excitedly, slapping me on the back. “Truly. I wouldn’t be surprised if you have at least eight of them telling you they want to invest. I’d give it less than a week.”
“Really?”
“Really. The app makes sense. Your proposal for how best to utilize it ties it all together. I’m telling you, this one is a winner. I don’t want to get your hopes too high, just in case, but I think you might have reason to celebrate.” He thumped me on the shoulder again. “I have a conference call I have to catch, but I’ll be in touch as soon as I hear anything, alright? Have a good rest of your day.”
