by Lena Skye
“Not too much time. You shouldn’t really do this to yourself. I think you deserve a bright ray of sunshine in your life—”
“He doesn’t even laugh.”
“It’s your first night together. Of course he wouldn’t find your humor likeable.”
“I think my humor’s pretty okay. It’s his that ain’t.”
Lynne rolled her eyes as she stopped in front of Mikaela’s apartment building. “Look, Milly,” she said, using a nickname only few knew about. “Just date him. What harm could it do? And if he does something stupid, slap him with a lawsuit, then we’ll both live the rest of our lives bathing in milk and rose water or something.”
They both laughed aloud.
Chapter3
She didn’t send her “no” immediately. In fact, she didn’t send it at all. She had waited for a full hour and had thought he was probably asleep when she sent her message that she agreed to go to dinner with him.
He replied after five minutes. Did he wait? She wouldn’t know. But here she was, trying to look her best with the most decent after-work outfit she could find, jeans and a plain white shirt. No one could go wrong with that, right? Except she began to wonder if she looked too plain. She didn’t look haggard, which was a good thing. And Lynne told her to look her best half-naked.
She had asked what it meant. It meant to bring spare lingerie, just in case.
“I’m not down for that on the first date!”
“You haven’t been laid in so long,” Lynne insisted over the phone as they had their lunch break in opposite ends of the city.
In the end, she did, but she didn’t tell Lynne. Yeah, it was for good measure. Besides, she sort of knew when a guy was attracted to her. Justin insisted on picking her up. She didn’t want him to at first. If he saw where she lived, he’d totally get turned off. Well, if he really was the billionaire that Lynne had said he was, he wouldn’t be too happy to see where she lived. She had gotten off of work at past three and he had said he’d pick her up by six.
He was prompt. He called her, just to make sure he was on the right street. She waved from her window, four floors up, and he saw him wave back. There was no smile. She began to wonder if her decision was all right. They could have met at the restaurant, but he was being all gentlemanly, or maybe he was being a huge showoff. His car was a sleek silver Mercedes Benz, and people ogled at him as he waited by the curb.
Dinner was in some fancy Italian restaurant where she felt severely undressed. She saw how the women wore dresses at least and here she was in ripped jeans.
“Would you care for some wine?” Justin asked her, seeing how selfconscious she was becoming. Her eyes kept darting around, unsure of herself in a place like that. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m-I’m just not used to this.”
“Mikaela, this isn’t even a five-star restaurant or anything. It’s just a bit classier than your usual bistro. You don’t stand out, so don’t worry about it.”
She grinned at him, embarrassed. “Yeah, I guess.”
“So, wine?”
“I don’t drink. Like I said yesterday.”
“Too bad, they serve excellent vintage wine here.”
She bit her lower lip, worried that she might upset Justin. “Maybe after we’ve eaten.”
He was observing her observing everyone else, observing even the servers. It was a far cry from her café and he wondered if she had ever eaten in an Italian restaurant that wasn’t the Olive Garden.
“You liking your food?” he asked her.
She nodded. The risotto was pretty good, seeing this risotto didn’t come from a microwaveable pack. She made good on her word to drink wine after the main course had been served, so she did. The wine was sweet and sour at the same time. There was a term for this. Tart. It was tart, right?
He had ordered one whole bottle of wine and she had drunk two glasses by the time tiramisu was being served. She was finding it difficult to focus and she felt pretty warm.
“Are you okay?” he asked her, amused that someone would get that drunk with two glasses that weren’t even filled halfway.
“A little tired,” she replied. “Well tired-sleepy, but not too tired to do other stuff.”
“What other stuff?” he asked as the waiter cleared their plates away.
“I dunno. Walk around guess. I haven’t had a good walk on the beach in months.”
He shook his head and gave a faint smile. “In your condition, that doesn’t sound like a good idea.”
They stood up, heading for the door. She did her best to control her gait. She felt her knees were a bit weak, well actually, her legs felt like jelly. She couldn’t have been that drunk.
“You’re walking funny,” he remarked as they headed for the car.
“Just this wine thingy. That’s what I told you.”
“Would you like some tea to sober you up?”
“Can we just sit somewhere?”
“We’re near my place, if you don’t mind,” Justin suggested. “Perhaps you can take a rest there before I bring you back to your place.”
It was one of Justin’s three units in Malibu, all were at least thirty minutes away from her apartment.
She nodded, fighting to stay awake. Did people feel extra frisky when they were drunk? She didn’t say anything, afraid it would sound trivial or too forward. They headed for a ten-story building, and his unit was one of those two units that had a private elevator that led all the way to the penthouse. She was half asleep by the time they got to his two thousand square foot pad, replete with a baby grand piano, a one hundred eighty-degree view of the beach and sensor activated lights.
She stood at the door, amazed, feeling like her saliva was going to drop on the shiny marble floors. It looked like it came straight from the magazines. Her drunkenness had momentarily vanished.
“You live here?” she said, stepping in.
“Partially,” he replied. “Let me get you some water. Take a seat anywhere you like.”
The moment he returned with a glass of tepid water, he found her half asleep on the couch. “Mikaela, drink some water. I guess the wine was a bad idea, huh?”
“A little,” she slurred. “God this is embarrassing for our first date together.”
“It’s a little cute and a little annoying,” he said.
“Do you always do that to every girl you date?” she suddenly asked with a tone that said she was aggravated.
“Do what?”
“Act like a douche.”
He smiled and shook his head. “It depends on what kind of girl I’m dating.”
“So I’m special because you’re being brutally frank with me?”
“Because I said it was cute and annoying at the same time?” he began. “I do that to every woman I date. What’s the point of lying? It makes for a bad start.”
“You are such an asshole, you know that?” she said, standing up to take the glass of water from his hand.
“Well, you’re being pretty honest yourself,” he retorted, still sounding calm. Drunk women were as volatile as drunk men.
She drank the whole glass and out it down on a table, missing the coaster by a few inches. He looked at the round glass markings on the table with disdain and hoped the water wouldn’t leave a stain. She saw the look on his face.
“There you go again,” she said. “You give off that look that you think you’re better than everyone else.”
His eyes narrowed. Drunk people spoke the truth and that was her impression of him when they had only met a day before. Well, wasn’t she someone unique for starters? With her penchant for cursing and her easy laughter, he found himself drawn to her, amused, like a child that had seen something shiny and colorful for the first time.
He saw the thin strap on her shoulder slip down and he found himself aroused by this. He walked quickly, facing her and he held her arms tightly.
“What do you think you’re doing—?”
He cut her off,
grabbed her head softly and started kissing her. She resisted at first and then she moved her lips against his. One hand trailed down to her neck as Justin pressed himself against Mikaela. Their kisses grew ardent and hard. She gasped when his free hand found its way to one breast and he fondled it as they continued kissing.
She forced herself to focus. This was just her being drunk. She wasn’t too drunk, but she was kissing him back. Was he drunk, too?
His hand began to skim over her bare shoulder, and she realized she wanted this. He trailed kisses on her neck as she moaned in desire. Mikaela realized she had never felt this much lust for anyone as Justin’s hands roamed all over her back, then waist, and her neck again.
She surrendered to the feeling and allowed this pleasure to steal through her. It was delicious, this feeling of being with him. She saw his eyes, burning with passion. This was the same look she had seen yesterday, that smolder, that primal lust. She didn’t know he wanted it this bad, too. He slowly shoved her onto the couch, dragging her blouse down to her abdomen. Then he licked one distended nipple and she let out a soft groan as the cool sea breeze fluttered in the room.
Then he slid down, all the way down, and his tongue trailed on her lean stomach and she writhed a little. He moved his hands nearer and in between her thighs as he slid up and kissed her again. His fingers found their way into the folds of her clit and he stroked it slowly with his thumb first. She shuddered.
He slipped in two fingers and found her wet. She let out another moan. It was a moan he wanted to hear again and again.
“Oh god…” She let out a sigh as she closed her eyes. He went further down and she was glad she had changed into sexier lingerie while on a toilet break at the restaurant earlier…
His tongue teased her and she felt something in her release. This primal urge to just make love to him. It all just felt so right. He was sucking her and she moaned and moaned softly, trying to find something to hold on to and she ended up holding onto his head, actually, his hair, as he licked Mikaela over and over again ruthlessly. She had never known that a man’s tongue could do this. It was an astounding feeling and waves of pleasure kept banging onto her body.
He wanted to be on top of her, he made sure of that as he positioned himself. He slipped himself inside of her and she jerked a little, loving the sensation of his cock filling her. He licked her taut nipples at the same time, and then she felt his teeth rake over one nipple and Mikaela trembled even more. Her heartbeat was so loud, she thought he could hear it. Blood roared in her ears before she had lost all coherent thought, sticking to moans and murmurs like he did.
His eyes told her all that he wanted to do to, all that carnal desire. She wanted to succumb to it.
Blood rushed to his member, and she was swollen. Their bodies rubbed against each other, their pace had moved faster. She raised her hips against him, meeting him halfway with a thrust. Mikaela panted, enjoying the tip of his member caressing her clit. Justin held onto her right thigh and continued to gyrate against her.
The sea breeze didn’t matter at all as they slammed against each other, sweat forming on their bodies. He thrust himself into her harder and she bit her lower lip to keep herself from screaming.
“You can be as loud as you want to be, you know,” he whispered roughly into her ear.
She bit her lower lip again, determined not to cry out for his name, as he pounded into her again and again, and again.
***
She loved the feel of cotton against her skin that was for sure. She didn’t want to wake up from that lovely dream. A dream where they had made love, passionate love and he held onto her tightly, never wanting to let go. She still felt a little sore, but it was a good kind of sore, the kind of sore she hadn’t felt in a long, long time.
Mikaela woke up anyway. She awoke into reality with a smile though. It wasn’t a dream. She was really here, in his house, and on his bed, fully naked. Feeling a bit modest, she dragged the bed sheets of Egyptian cotton (500 thread count) closer to her body. The other half of the bed was empty, as equally messy as her side.
She wondered where he was and all of a sudden, she thought that Justin was in the kitchen, making breakfast for them. How romantic was that? She smiled to herself and didn’t bother to grab clothes. She looked around and saw the bathroom door open. It was a beautiful black marble bathroom with a walk-in closet twice as large as her apartment. She saw a tub at the far end and a hefty counter and sink with mirrors that lit up the moment she was in front of it. There were freshly laundered bathrobes hanging in one half-opened closet. These were not cheap bathrobes either and she slid into one and felt she was wearing some pricey dress. She decided to gargle next and took a swig of mouthwash to surprise him with a kiss while he cooked.
Then she looked at the mirror and smiled. She had this glow that she wanted to show off. Clearly, it was an enjoyable night when she had a face like that, and it was something she hadn’t felt in years. She walked out of the bathroom with a skip. She hadn’t been anywhere near the kitchen. It wouldn’t be hard to find though. All she had to do was follow her nose. But she couldn’t smell anything remotely cooking now. She had thought she did earlier.
“Justin?” she called out, wondering if someone else was here. “Justin?” she called out again, this time louder. The penthouse suite was eerily quiet. Where was he? Was he hiding? Was there another bedroom?
She found herself in the large, stainless steel kitchen with its state-of-the-art ovens. It was devoid of people, devoid of Justin. Her eyes narrowed and she looked confused. Last night he had been murmuring he wanted her, and now he was nowhere to be found.
No, he had to be here. He wouldn’t leave her just like that. She wildly looked around for him, calling out for him in a louder voice.
“Justin?” she said, stepping on the shiny wooden floors that encompassed the living room. The veranda window was open and she stepped out into the sunlight and saw the city had only begun to wake up from a good night’s rest.
Funny, she swore she could smell pancakes earlier. Realization dawned on her he wasn’t here. Maybe he went out for some breakfast. He would leave a note, or a text, right? She walked back to the bedroom to check her phone. There were no messages. No calls. No emails. Then she saw something on the corner of the table beside the bed, propped up against a sleek, stainless steel lamp. There was an envelope in powder blue, with her name scribbled hastily. He had pretty good handwriting.
She reached for it, hopes of a romantic explanation diminishing. There was nothing inside, except $1,000. A thousand dollars for a romantic night with her. That asshole! That idiot! She began to seethe, she had been played for a fool! She wasn’t a whore! How could he? Of all the shitty things to do!
She returned the envelope on the table with trembling hands. She wanted to scream and curse. He had told her no one would hear her scream and this moment was a good moment to scream. She took a breath and wildly looked around. Had he planned this all along? She angrily searched for her phone in her bag, and when she found it, a few other things fell out of it and she cursed again.
Mikaela furiously punched for his name and called. It rang, and it rang, yet he didn’t pick up. He couldn’t be asleep, he had left her far too early. A headache began to form and she felt a growing embarrassment to what was happening.
“Oh my god, I’m an idiot!” she muttered, her face in her palms. She thought about calling Lynne, but she stopped herself. She saw the lacy lingerie on the floor and she suddenly wanted to burn it. She looked around the room and looked at the bed and that’s when she felt really dirty. She didn’t want to shower here, no matter how strong her urge was. Maybe he was a creepy twat who had closed circuit cameras installed all over to record their—his, his sexcapades.
She hoped there were none. She picked up her clothes and dressed hastily. There was a small stain on her white shirt from the red wine, but she didn’t care. What was important was that she didn’t look like she was doing the walk of shame that
morning. It was just jeans and a used shirt, which she hoped didn’t smell that much. His bedroom smelled faintly of potpourri anyway, and she didn’t mind smelling like dried spices and flowers in the least.
She huffed and stashed her phone in her bag and she saw her shoes at the foot of the couch. She quickly put the sandals on. Looking around one last time, it was when she realized that this wasn’t really his home. There was nothing that spoke of home in this penthouse. No pictures, no warmth. It was probably just a place where he could bring women and pay them for sex. He had paid her for sex. The thought of it made her blood boil.
She saw the envelope on the night table and almost reached out for it, taking deep breaths to tell herself she shouldn’t, but that $1000 would help her greatly. Then Mikaela shook her head, allowing herself to feel such intense anger for him, that if he were to walk through the door, she could throw every expensive thing in his house at him and she wouldn’t feel the least bit guilty about it.
Mikaela had never felt this much anger for anyone in years and she didn’t want to see him, ever again.
Chapter4
It was six in the morning and his chin was resting on his hand as he looked on at Mikaela through the closed-circuit cameras he had installed months back. He saw her get up, looking a bit confused, then she moved about in the apartment, presumably looking for him. He smiled to himself when she walked into the kitchen, her mouth open, calling out for his name. Yes, that’s right, keep looking, he thought, as she walked around half-naked.
As the minutes ticked by, that was when she realized she was alone. He saw her lean down for the night table and he saw that she had seen the envelope. She picked it up and opened it, then she put it back down again. What? She was too good for the thousand dollars or something? It seemed like she needed it and he was doing her a favor.
Well, that was quite rude, wasn’t it? She didn’t even hold the envelope again. And that was when she called him, he could see her frantic movements when he didn’t answer her. He had left it at that. A thought formed in his head as he looked at his phone’s screen and her name blinked every second it rang. Mikaela called him three times to no avail. He would never answer her.
