The Casual Rule

by AC Netzel

  “Ahem, my eyes are up here,” he teases. I love that he’s making this light and easy for me.

  “You look happy to see me,” I purr.

  “I’m always happy to see you,” he mutters darkly with a smoldering stare. That look alone could turn the most frigid person into an instantaneous slut.

  I take a deep breath and pull my panties down, over my feet, leaving them on the floor with the rest of my scattered clothes.

  As I stand naked in the brilliant light of the sun in front of Ben… instead of embarrassed or vulnerable, I feel empowered. Two people… naked, with nothing to hide behind. It feels so honest. Maybe it’s because we know each other better, trust each other…. but this feels more intimate than it ever has before. My earlier concerns about sex fright have proven to be a complete waste of time. I’m so turned on right now; I fear I may combust if he lays one finger on me.

  But I’m willing to chance it.

  They say a woman’s body is a work of art, but Ben’s could challenge that belief. He is positively delicious. Whoever they are, never laid eyes on Ben Martin.

  He steps forward, our bodies almost touching, but not quite, and traces my mouth with his fingertip, making his way to my outer ear, circling it. He leans into me. “You are so beautiful. Truly, truly, beautiful,” he murmurs in my ear, the prickly feel of his beard’s stubble tickling my cheek. I close my eyes and soak in the mellow hum of his voice. The muscles below my stomach clench tight.

  I open my eyes and look down at the floor, blushing.

  “Look at me Julia,” he says softly, raising my chin with his index finger. I look up and our eyes lock. “Can I touch you?”

  I nod. My pulse is racing. I love that he’s asked permission. It’s so…sensuous. He’s doing the touching, but he’s given me the power. It’s liberating. I’m dying to straddle him but I’m so aroused by the anticipation of his touch, I’m rooted in this spot.

  He slides his index finger down from my temple, skimming down my cheek over my jawline to my neck. Our eyes never break their lock. Slowly he glides one finger down my neck, around the curve of my shoulder, then down my arm to the tip of my middle finger. This is the most intimate feeling I’ve ever experienced with a man. Soft, subtle touching on parts of my body anyone can see, yet his gentle touch is personal, cherishing, special.

  His finger slides down to my hip bone, trailing back up my side until he reaches my breast. He pauses and looks at me, seeking permission to continue. I nod slightly. A subtle smile curls from the corner of his mouth as his finger slowly traces my breast, circling the outline of my nipple. His fingertip grazes across my breast until it reaches the other, once again delicately tracing my nipple, then caressing each breast with the palm of his hand. His simple touch has my insides on fire. It’s much more than just sexy… it’s quiet and beautiful.

  I inhale a deep breath. That magnetic pull that charges between us is so strong; I can feel my body leaning toward him, searching for him. I don’t know how he does this to me; I’m overwhelmed with a hunger. Not just for carefree sex… I yearn for connection, for closeness… for him.

  “Touch me,” he commands as he drops his hand to his side, closing his eyes, awaiting my touch.

  I reach up and run my fingertips lightly down his cheek, feeling the coarse prickle of his perfect stubble. My fingers glide down his neck, around his strong shoulder, and I splay my hand across his chest, feeling the smooth ripple of muscle beneath his warm skin. I make small circles in his chest hair then continue down to his V-line. God, I love that V-line. My fingers glide down each hard line, careful not to touch his twitching erection. That rock hard bad boy wants me… And I love it.

  “Tease,” he jokes. “Does the light bother you now?”

  I look at this stunning man standing in front of me, naked and fearless. I never thought I was one of those girls who would ever gawk at a man’s body. But things have changed in the short time since Ben came into my life. I could stare at him all day. And just like I enjoyed him looking at me in the artificial security of a dimly lit room, I’m finding that it wasn’t the darkness that made me feel comfortable and safe after all. It’s Ben. It doesn’t matter if it’s a brightly lit or pitch-black room; he makes me feel at ease in my skin.

  “No, it’s fine,” I say.

  “Would you like to join me on the bed?”

  “Tired?” I kid.

  “Not yet… If I’m lucky, I will be.” He holds out his hand. I place mine in his as we stroll to the bed.

  “I don’t want to tire you out before your visit with your parents tonight,” I say as we reach the edge of his bed.

  “I’m willing to chance it.” He playfully pushes me down on the bed. I giggle as he climbs over me. We laugh as we roll around, above the blankets, in his brightly sunlit bedroom and lose ourselves in each other.

  ~o0o~

  The room has softened with a heavenly warm glow as the sun sets over New York. Ben and I lay in bed, sated from our earlier sexcapades, each silently staring up at the ceiling, lacing our fingers together, lost in our thoughts.

  Ben breaks our silence. “What are you thinking about?”

  “Nothing and everything.”

  “That’s a lot of thinking,” he says, still staring up at the ceiling. “Why don’t you tell me two of those thoughts?”

  Do I tell him what I’m really thinking and let him in on more of my crazy, or let it go? Here’s a perk to a casual relationship… I can ask weird questions and not worry that it will follow me for my lifetime. The answer is only around as long as the relationship. Then I can conveniently wipe it out of my memory. Fuck it…

  “Do I look like an idiot when I orgasm?” I know I’m opening myself up to a potentially embarrassing response; he might think I look like a deranged escapee from an asylum— or worse— I might look like I’m constipated.

  “This is what you’re thinking about?”

  “Believe me, women wonder about these things.”

  “Why would you want to know?”

  “I’m just curious. Tell me.”

  “I don’t know… sexy. You look sexy.”

  “Sexy? You’re a writer and that’s the best word you can come up with? Ben, orgasms may feel sexy, but even I know they don’t look sexy.”

  “You really want to know?”

  “I asked didn’t I?”

  “All right. You throw your head back and close your eyes tight. Your face flushes to a beautiful reddish hue. Your jaw clenches, like your biting down hard, then you open your mouth and it looks like you’re about to scream or groan, but nothing comes out right away, like you’re building up to it. You start off soft; then you get loud, like you’ve lost all control. And it fucking drives me insane. Takes all my power to hold it together when you moan like that.”

  “But do I look like an idiot?”

  “You look hot. Raw. Unhinged. I love that I can bring you there.”

  “Validation for all your hard work?” I gently nudge him.

  He chuckles. “Yes. I suppose it is.”

  “Don’t you want to know how you look when you have an orgasm?” I ask.

  “No,” he says flatly.

  “Why not?”

  “Because guys don’t care. All we care about is the sex. We don’t care how we look doing it.” He briefly pauses. “I should be afraid to ask, but I have to know, what’s your second thought?”

  “I was just wondering.”

  “About…?”

  “What attracted you to me?”

  He unlaces his fingers from mine and turns to his side, facing me. The frown on his face tells me he’s perplexed. “What kind of question is that?”

  “Was it my legs? Boobs? Ass? What?”

  “I knew you were hot when you asked me for the time at Central Park.”

  I cover my face with the blanket. I’m still embarrassed about that debacle. He pulls the blanket down, grinning. “But what truly attracted me to you is your fire.”

  “M
y fire?”

  “When I teased you about the watch, you didn’t twirl your hair and act like a ditz. That’s usually the response I get from the type of girl who tries to pick me up.”

  “I was not trying to pick you up. I told you; it was a dare.”

  “I’m glad you took that dare.” He clasps my hand and lightly kisses each finger. “What I liked was the fact that you were pissed off at me when I teased you. You had spunk. And like I told you before, the first time we had dinner at Emilio’s…”

  “That disastrous dinner meeting, you mean?”

  He laughs. “Yes, that dinner. When you argued with me— that fire. With every word of contempt for me you spewed out, I was so turned on. Lucky for me, you didn’t notice I was getting a hard-on. I thought about you that entire night. Emailed Vivian to let her know I was looking forward to working with you.” He chuckles softly as his thumb skims my lower lip. “God, I wanted to fuck you on that table so bad.”

  I laugh. It’s not the answer I expected… it’s much better.

  “What attracted you to me?” he asks. Duh, does this man not own a mirror? He is male perfection.

  I turn to my side to face him, leaning my head on my hand. “Initially… your body. But that was from a distance.”

  “Oh? Were you repulsed when you got close up?” he jokes.

  “Yes Ben, your chiseled abs and muscular back were a real turn off,” I deadpan, rolling my eyes with a smirk. “Seriously, I’m sure you’ve figured out that I like your body. But when we met for dinner, I noticed your dimples and thought, now that’s a hot man….if he could only sit there and look pretty smiling at me without opening his big mouth…” He grins, showing off those dimples that melt me from the inside out. I raise my hand and trace each indentation on his cheeks with my index finger.

  “So it’s only my looks? So very shallow.”

  “Well, there is one more thing.”

  “What?” he asks.

  “You’re going to think I’m a geek.”

  “You’re naked in my bed. Believe me, geek is not the word that comes to mind. Come on, tell me.”

  “While we were arguing at Emilio’s and you were being all stupid and manly…”

  “Stupid and manly?” he interrupts.

  “Yes, stupid and manly. Anyway, while you were busy beating your chest like a caveman, I was thinking about how well written your manuscript was. I appreciated your good grammar.”

  “While you were busy hating me, my grammar turned you on?”

  “I know. It’s the editor in me, but I think good grammar is erotic.”

  “Erotic, huh? So there were no dangling participles in my manuscript?”

  “Nope. Beautiful grammar.” I flex my hips to touch him. “There is, however, something dangling here, but I’m certain that’s no participle.”

  He laughs hard, throwing his head back; it’s contagious. I can’t help but laugh with him.

  “No, that’s definitely not a participle. So prepositions, interjections, conjunctions, punctuation, all that gets you aroused?”

  “HmmMmm.” I nod.

  “I see. Well, Julia, my specialty is irregular verbs. For example, I know the difference between lie and lay.”

  “Do you?” I arch a brow.

  “Lie is an intransitive verb, it means to rest or recline. A lay, on the other hand, is what you’re about to get."

  “Again?”

  “Oh yes.” He grabs my hand and places it on his growing erection. “There’s nothing dangling here.”

  “It’s almost five o’clock; you’ll be late meeting your parents. You may upset your clock watching mother.”

  “I’ll take the risk,” he breathes, pulling me close and kissing me as we lose ourselves in each other again.

  Chapter 10

  Friday is finally here. For the past five minutes I’ve been lying in my bed with my hands behind my head, humming to myself as I mindlessly stare up at the ceiling. It’s been two weeks since my introduction to carefree daytime sex. Thanks to Ben, I’m much more comfortable in my skin. The perk to my nakedness is Ben gets naked right along with me. I can look at him all day.

  Over the past two weeks, we’ve gotten into a wicked sex groove. My place, his place… almost in the elevator on the way up to his apartment. Luckily… or unluckily, I still haven’t decided, we pulled ourselves together and made it inside his apartment…barely. I tingle all over when I hear a ping from my cell phone. I know it’s a booty call, but I don’t care. He’s got one hell of a booty.

  Last week Ben had a short meeting with Vivian. I swear that smoldering look he secretly gives me could melt off my panties, but we play it cool in front of her and always remain professional. Of course, I knew later that night was going to result in a luscious fuck-a-thon. Like a magnet to steel, when we’re together, there’s a sexual pull that neither of us can resist.

  Work has been fantastic. Vivian has entrusted me with more responsibilities, stressing that I’ve earned them. There’s a ton more work to do, but I’m thrilled. This is what I’ve dreamed of, what I worked so hard to achieve. I respect Vivian and her work ethic so much; having her seal of approval is the icing on the cake.

  Life is great. I have a job I absolutely love and an incredible boss who values me. A best friend who is... well, the best. I’m having amazing sex with a guy who knows what he’s doing. I don’t answer to him and he doesn’t to me.

  Everything is perfect.

  After a quick shower, I dry my hair, get dressed, and bounce my way down the hallway, still humming to myself as I follow the heavenly scent of freshly brewed coffee in the kitchen. Allie is leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee beside her and a powdered sugar donut in hand.

  “Hey, I’m going to Johan’s Pub with some work friends tonight. I know you probably have the Casual Ben Special penciled in, but I thought I’d ask if you wanted to join us, just in case,” she asks, handing me a donut on a napkin. I gladly grab it.

  “Oh, I’m not seeing Ben tonight. That marathon he’s been training for is tomorrow. He’s carbo loading and going to bed early.” I pour myself a much needed cup of morning joe and take a bite of my donut, careful to keep the powdered sugar residue off my clothes.

  “What is it with athletes refraining from sex the day before a big event? It makes no sense. Wouldn’t sex relax you? It relaxes me.”

  “I don’t think it’s the sex he’s avoiding, it’s the late night. Apparently he’s trying to conserve his energy. Because of this stupid marathon, I get the shaft.”

  “Actually, it’s the opposite,” she says, correcting me. “Because of this stupid marathon, you don’t get his shaft,” she snorts, giggling.

  “Quit your cackling. You’re so perverted.” I crumple my napkin and throw it at her.

  “I am,” she says proudly, catching the napkin with one hand. “So come out with us tonight. It’s been so long since you’ve joined us. We’ll have fun.”

  I should catch up on my reading. I don’t want to fall behind at work and could use some make-up time, but Allie’s right. I haven’t gone out with her in a long time. Besides, knowing me, I’ll toss aside the manuscripts and get lost in the three new gossip rags I bought at the newsstand in front of my building yesterday.

  “Okay. Sure.”

  Her face brightens up instantly. “Okay? Yay, it’s been forever Jules…ever since you’ve been getting some of that Casual dick.”

  I playfully smack her arm. “Watch your mouth, perv. And wipe the powdered sugar off your lips. You look like a coke whore on a bender.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Allie laughs, wiping her mouth with a potholder she spots on the counter. Classy. “I’ll send you a text later.” She quickly grabs her leather hobo bag and heads out the door.

  ~o0o~

  The workday has flown by pretty fast. It sucks not having a Friday night Ben Martin Special. I suppose I can’t expect that Friday nights are a standing order; although I wouldn’t mind if they were.


  After a quick subway ride downtown and a short walk down the block from the subway station, I arrive at Johan’s Pub to meet Allie and her friends. I’ve always liked this place. It’s been around forever. It has all the character of an old man’s bar…dusty and dimly lit with a small restaurant in the back of the building. No loud music, just loud patrons. This place isn’t anything fancy, but it’s perfect for a good time.

  On the sidewalk in front of the building, a small cluster of people are huddled together smoking cigarettes and who-knows-what. Is filling your lungs with smoke worth freezing your ass outside? I guess they think so. I’m so glad they can’t smoke inside anymore. I despise that lingering stench of smoke following me home, leaving my hair and clothes stinking like an ashtray.

  I take a quick peek through the front window; it’s wall to wall people. Grabbing the tarnished handle, I push the door open. I forgot how heavy this door is. They don’t make doors like this anymore. Red paint is flaking off everywhere; clearly cosmetics are not a high priority for this establishment.

  Instantly I’m struck by the blaring sound of several rowdy conversations, all spoken at the same time, and the smell of stale beer, and musty leather. If you’re looking for glamour and glitz, you opened the wrong red door.

  “Julia, Julia, over here!” I spot Allie jumping up and waving from across the room. It’s a miracle I heard her over the deafening roar of people getting their after work buzz on…and from the looks of things, succeeding. I make my way through the crowd; careful to protect any body parts that some degenerate perv may get his jollies from accidentally rubbing against, and occasionally choking on an unpleasant whiff of a random guy who bathed in too much cologne, until I finally reach her. She leans in, “Here, I ordered a beer for you,” and hands me a glass mug spilling over with dark ale.

  I lean in close to her ear, “Are we going to eat here too?”

  She nods. “Yes, as soon as everyone arrives we’ll go to the backroom. If you’re hungry, there are beer nuts on the bar.”

  Gross. A community bowl of bar food is disgusting. There’s either some drunken imbecile, with his ass firmly planted on the barstool in front of the bowl, doing what he thinks is a secret side nose pick, then dipping his snot residue fingers in the bowl or someone with opened, dry skin cracks helping himself. No thank you. I’d rather starve. It’s a public Petri dish festering with all sorts of nasty diseases, most resulting in a hideous cold sore resting above your lip.