by Nelson, Cara
“There wasn’t one,” he said unapologetically.
“Well, thanks for rescuing me, I guess. I didn’t really need it, though,” I said.
“Why let one person monopolize your time when there are so many we can photograph you with?” Simon replied.
Okay, this guy was so frustrating and hard to figure out. Was he jealous and protective or really just putting me through the publicity mill, getting every ‘in action’ photo opp he could for his marketing? I wasn’t certain it was even possible to figure it out.
There were so many different personalities and different perspectives from everyone in the labs. I was particularly enthralled with the botanists—of course—and they all had such different personalities, but each was so grounded and focused, content in what they were doing. That was great to see because I’d spent a lot of money earning this degree. It would have been a bummer to see people not loving what they were doing in my field.
“Where did you get these plants and samples from?” I asked.
“Rainforest,” the woman named Barika said. Her accent was very thick and I was as drawn to her as I might be a flower. She had one of those radiant personalities that wasn’t afraid to open up and show who she really was. And her passion, it really showed in her voice. Every word emphasized conviction and commitment.
That was so interesting to me. I’d only been to one rainforest, and that was in Hawaii, it had been amazing, but it wasn’t quite the same as the rainforests that were in this area of the world. They were so vast and filled with unique plants and flowers that most people would never get to see. I wouldn’t even be seeing it so soon if it weren’t for this entire project.
“Do you need permits for these things? How do you go about it?” I asked.
Barika smiled and nodded her head. “Don’t be greedy and it free. In Liberia.”
“Do you have a permit from the government?” I asked.
She shook her head no, repeating, “Don’t be greedy and it free. In Liberia.”
I smiled and she pointed to the microphone she was by and said, “Look.”
I leaned in toward the eyepiece and peered inside. There was a unique formation of cells in there, moving ever so slightly like they were vibrating. It was fascinating, not unlike anything I’d ever seen, but from the membranes of the cells, I knew it was a plant that I’d never seen before. “What kind of plant?”
“Sugarbush,” Barika said. She pointed to a picture of an amazing flowering bush, unique petals, stamin, and ovule, brightly colored and filled with many different textures.
“It’s beautiful.” She looked at me oddly. She didn’t understand. “Pretty,” I said.
I looked over my shoulder to see if Simon was nearby so he could come look. He should really get the full scope of the project. However, he was across the room with a few people, but his eyes were definitely on me, piercing me practically. I just smiled and turned around, feeling happy and a bit flushed by catching him with such an intense look on his face—directed at me.
“This makes honey, right?”
Barika nodded her head yes and sucked her teeth in, making a small popping noise.
“Is honey for medicine?” I continued.
“Make it taste good,” she said, rubbing her tummy.
“Fascinating,” I said.
For the next hour, I continued talking to people. I’ve only mastered avoiding the click of cameras and the flashes, blocking them out like I was actually used to them being around for years. I was quite grateful for it, too, because it would have made me feel really off otherwise. Oddly enough, the others around the lab seemed to embrace it and like it. Either they were familiar or thought it was pretty special. Good for them!
Simon walked up to me and pressed his hand in the small of my back. “It’s time to go Jessie. Let’s get a picture with everyone in the lab before we go.”
“I’m sure they’re too busy to stop and do that, Simon,” I countered.
He looked at the photographer. “I need a group photo.”
The photographer called out, “Picha wakati,” and then looked to me and said, “‘picture time’ in Swahili.”
Every stopped what they were doing and gathered around, Simon and I front and center. It occurred to me that I never thought of myself as very photogenic and these pictures were going to be seen by who knows how many people. Thankfully red eye reduction and PhotoShop had been invented.
We were in the car and I was talking animatedly about what I’d learned and seen when I realized that Simon hadn’t said a word the entire time. I didn’t even know where we were going. “What’s next?” I asked.
“The music school.”
“How fun! I bet you’re excited; that’s where your passions come in, huh?”
“Yeah,” he said.
I looked at him suspiciously. It wasn’t that I expected the exact same amount of energy as I had toward these things. That wasn’t him and I got that, but to these kids, the concert, and everything else, this was a big deal.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” he said, putting down his smartphone, crossing one leg over the other and looking at me.
“It’s not meant to sound rude so don’t take it that way.”
“No problem, what is it?” he asked.
“This entire thing, all the PR and press. Is it all just business to you, or does it also feel good to help others?” I asked. I felt guilty for asking it and didn’t want to appear ungrateful, but I think it was a fair question.
“I like it when everyone wins,” he said.
“And if everyone didn’t?” I asked.
“I’m not sure it would be my type of project then,” he said.
“Oh, I see. That makes sense.” I’d asked for an answer and got it. Maybe it was my abundant optimism, or the fact that I was developing feelings for Simon, but I couldn’t help but feel like there was more to it. He just didn’t want to admit it for whatever reason. He didn’t owe me anything and if he didn’t want to share some deep thought, he didn’t have to.
“We’re here, Mr. Jefferson,” the driver said.
“Good,” Simon said.
I followed him, saying, “Thanks so much.”
“You’re welcome,” the driver said. He didn’t turn around so I could only see his eyes in the rearview mirror. I liked the way they creased at the sides, showing he was smiling. So far, it had amazed me to see how much so many people smiled here. It was definitely different than the pictures they showed on those guilt trip television commercials at times. Yes, there was sadness and extreme poverty, but I could also sense hope.
Simon and I stood next to each other and he took my hand. I decided to just go with it for two reasons: it felt great and perhaps that intimate look was what he needed to finally bust free of the ‘all business’ image he carried.
I squeezed his hand and smiled as we walked into a small schoolhouse. We were greeted by four teachers, one a young woman, two older men, and one middle aged woman with chipped front teeth, which she proudly revealed from a wonderful smile.
All the boys and girls, three up to eighteen, were there, all dressed in different types of clothes, including hand-me-down sports shirts, oxford shirts, polos, jeans, shorts, skirts—everything. They were smiling and erect, so cute I could have pinched all their cheeks.
“We are very excited to have you here,” the teacher and director of the school said. “Please, have a seat. The children want to show you what they’ll be doing at the concert later this week. They are so very excited.”
“Great, I can’t wait,” I said. “How about you, Simon?”
“I’m excited, definitely,” he said.
I saw him glance at me and I looked at him and smiled, acting clueless. That was actually a benefit to being stereotyped a blonde. I didn’t use the blonde trick too often, but every now and then I could justify a little manipulation.
We sat down in the large classroom in short chairs meant for little ki
ds and the concert began. It was one of the most precious things I’d ever seen, second only to my little four year old niece’s daycare concert last year. That had sent me into a temporary biological clock ticking spiral.
After the performance we all stood up and clapped wildly, making the kid’s eyes smile even more brightly and they broke out into fits of laughter.
The teacher talked to them quickly and I was so curious about what she was saying. Darn, I wished I had taken the time to learn a bit of Swahili before I’d arrived. It would have helped a ton. Unfortunately, time wasn’t something I had before I’d gotten here.
After her instructions, the kids all scattered and began to practice all sorts of things. The older female teacher explained that the school was meant to help underprivileged children use music to explore their feelings, but was also a home to children that showed great musical potential, hoping to keep them in the area to pass down the traditions to future generations. It was such a lovely concept, one that I thought would be amazing in any part of the world.
Simon and I went our different ways, walking up to various kids who were so excited to have us there watching them. It was a huge deal to them and my heart was in bloom with their abundance of joy for music and their appreciation of what they had. To me, it was very little in the material sense, but the gifts they carried inside of them were plentiful. I sat down on a small chair and listened to one little girl play her flute and when she was done, I clapped and said, “Very good!”
“Pretty,” she said, reaching her small hand out and touching my blonde hair and then pointing to my green eyes.
“Aw, thanks. You’re pretty, too,” I said, reaching out and touching one of the braids she had framing her chubby, ebony face.
This type of interaction continued and every person I met melted my heart a little bit more, but not as much as what I saw from the one person I already knew. I glanced across the room and saw Simon sitting on a miniature drum set, holding a stick in his hand. Then he transferred it over to a small boy’s hands and showed him how to hold it correctly. He adjusted his thumb and was completely engrossed, talking to the little boy as if he were an adult who understood perfect English, but it didn’t matter. The boy was completely into it and his face was so serious that he kind of reminded me of Simon.
The small boy crawled onto Simon’s lap then and Simon put his arms around him and his hands over the top of his and started to play, going across to all of the drums and tapping his foot on the pedal that the little boy couldn’t reach. It was a slowed down version of one of ProVokaTiv’s quickest paced songs, Illusion, and the remake was hands down my favorite.
Simon had never looked sexier or more relaxed. The sight of it turned me on like I’d never been turned on before. It put my hormones into an instant mosh pit where they were slamming around, growing more excited with each beat of the song, and all I wanted was to please this man, in every possible way.
Chapter Twenty-Two:
Pleasure Perks
I would have dropped the drumsticks if the little guy on my lap wasn’t clinging to them so tightly. Jessie was walking up to me, looking at me like she was Cleopatra and I was Mark Anthony. She didn’t have to say a single word—I was in her sights and damn, I was thrilled about it. With her hands in the back pocket of her jeans, she said, “They said we’ve got to get going now. It’s a wrap for the day.”
“Wow, that went by quickly,” I said, looking up at her and tilting my head a bit. If she could read my mind, she’d already know that she was naked and in my arms, me longing to feel her warm body beneath me and slide into her.
“Yeah, it did,” she said. Then she looked at the little guy on my lap. “You’re so good.”
He smiled and put his thumb up in the air, “Rock star.”
“Simon’s a rock star, yes,” Jessie said.
“No. Me rock star.”
She started laughing and put her hand on his head of wavy hair. “Yes you are.”
For the first time the entire trip, I wasn’t even thinking about pictures and opportunities. I’d been lost in the moment and the music that I’d loved so much as a kid. Seeing the photographers’ flashes snapped me back to reality and I hoped that none of those pictures captured what I was thinking when I was looking at Jessie.
We arrived back at the hotel after the longest car ride of my life. The heat had rolled off the two of us, and yet we’d kept our distance, Jessie leaning against her armrest, and me itching to scoot closer, except I was afraid that if even my arm brushed against Jessie that I’d lose control right in the back of that town car. That was not the good kind of publicity…no matter how good it might feel.
“I was thinking of eating in my room tonight. Care to join me?” I said, turning to hold my hand out to her as she slid across the passenger seat toward my open door.
“Business or pleasure?” she whispered.
“That’s up to you,” I said, smiling.
“Well, I’ve had enough business today.” Then she winked at me and my cock instantly grew in length just a bit. What was going on?
The second we were in the room and my door was shut, Jessie gave me a sly grin and said, “I see my appetizer is ready.”
This hot, bold Jessie was so sexy. She was like a dominatrix who was about to take over and command me to do her will, and I wasn’t the least bit opposed to it.
Jessie didn’t take her eyes off me as her hands moved down my sides and she reached down and pulled my t-shirt out of my jeans and slid it up over my head. Still focused on my face, she unbuckled my belt and, unbuttoned my jeans, and then slid them down, allowing them to drop to the ground. I stepped out of them, kicking my shoes off as I did so and looked at her appreciatively, loving the t-shirt she wore—copper colored with a bright sunshine in the center—as if she were a bright-burning precious metal. I wanted that shirt off of her.
Picking her up, I carried her over to the bed, laid her down on it and slowly peeled off her clothes, ready to see her creamy flesh and explore it thoroughly, slowly, and methodically. She turned me on so bad, and I wanted to forget everything I ever struggled to be and just go with the flow, no calculated actions or worrying about the results. It was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before, and it had come to surface so rapidly, too. There was no warming up period for her. Somehow, she’d made me all-in physically and made it so I couldn’t keep my word. One time thing? Yeah, right. I wanted it to be a two-peat, three-peat, and even more.
What I loved most about Jessie, aside from the brains and beauty, was how confident she was to pursue something when she decided to—without alcohol. Having a woman who took what she wanted because of her inner courage and not liquid courage was a huge turn-on. I used to say that I’d hold out for a woman like that in my life, one who was as sexually stimulating as she was intellectually stimulating. Now, I was wondering, did I find one?
But she was on one elbow with one leg was bent as she looked at me and crooked her pointed her finger, drawing me closer. I listened, glad to take her orders. She grabbed my waist and pulled me down to her and, when I was close enough, thrust her hips upward to meet mine, grinding into me like a desperate and needy woman. Her warm flesh against my raging hard-on felt so good, so inviting.
I leaned down to kiss Jessie softly and she plunged her tongue into my mouth, flickering it ever so softly on the roof of my mouth. I involuntarily pressed down harder on her mouth and kissed her, demanding more. Her hands explored my skin and I was drawn in and consumed by her urgency.
Slowly sliding out from under me, Jessie’s movements gave me the directions I needed. I rolled onto my back and she straddled me. My cock jerked at the thought of her slowly sliding down, taking all of me inside her, but instead she eased down until my hard-on was engulfed between her breasts. It was almost too much for me, but then she was gone, her hands caressing my feet and legs, showing that the touch alone turned her on. I was under her microscope and couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was like movi
ng art.
Moving her hands to my inner thighs, she began to tease my shaft with her tongue, flittering it in and out on the tip and kissing it, licking it, and continuing to keep me in a blissfully aroused state. I reached out for her and her one hand gently came up and brushed me away, “Not now,” she cooed.
It was maddening to not touch her because I didn’t know what to do with my hands. They felt like they had to move as I experienced the sensations of her lips on all of me, making love to my cock and the way her body pressed against mine, her breasts brushing against my thighs, the tendrils from her blonde hair grazing my stomach.
My eyes finally disobeyed me and closed, unable to remain open and absorb what I was feeling from Jessie’s touch and the motions. When they did, I felt her move slightly and then slowly, achingly, she slid down so my tip connected with her pearl, making her grow wetter. Her hips circled and thrusted as she moaned out my name in satisfaction.
“Simon, oh, Simon,” she purred.
Spoken like that it sounded like the most wonderful word in the entire damn world.
Now my hands were on her, resting on her hips and then reaching up to squeeze her breasts as she moved back and forth, my hips meeting her and then we’d separate ever so slightly and thrust forward again. Perfect harmony. Amazing synchronization.
All the heat from our car ride was still between us and then there was a sudden warm flood as Jessie moaned even louder, her hands, her legs, her everything gripping me tighter. It was all I needed. We exploded together like an intense drum crescendo, bringing our own pleasure symphony to its climax.. “Ah,” I grunted, feeling so relieved to have that pressure released from inside of me.
Jessie’s breath was heavy and her cheeks were flushed when she slid away from me. I didn’t want her to go, so I offered the crook of my arm. She planted her head there, a soft, dazed grin on her face. We lay there, still entangled, basking.
“Wow,” she said.
“Wow,” I repeated.
