by Jessica Ashe
I left her alone on Friday night, but I’m sure she could use some company on Saturday. I promised her a drink, so I take a few more notes from my cash pile and buy a bottle of wine and some pizza. If she’s not in then I’ll have it all to myself; if she is home by herself on a Saturday night then she’d be crazy to turn away pizza and wine.
She’s alone, and if I’m not very much mistaken she looks pleased to see me.
“Just to be clear,” Piper says between mouthfuls of pizza, “you can’t buy your way into my bed with pizza. But I’m fucking starving and this is just what I need.”
“Clearly,” I reply, looking down at the pizza and wondering if I’m going to get more than two slices. Pizza’s usually good date food, because women won’t eat that much of it and I get to eat two-thirds at least. Not with Piper.
I’m eating slower than usual. It’s not my fault, I’m distracted. I showed up at her door just as she was finishing up a workout judging by the yoga mat, foam blocks, and small weights lying around the living room, together with her tight yoga pants and top. She’s not wearing a bra, but the top has that inbuilt support stuff which stops her nipples from peeking through. Or maybe she just has small nipples. I should find out soon enough.
Her arms aren’t quite ripped, but there’s not exactly a lot of fat on her either. I still wouldn’t describe her as strong, but judging by what I’ve seen so far she can use what she’s got to take down men much bigger than her. I’ve always been the one throwing the woman around the bedroom, but if she wants to flip me onto my back, I could probably make an exception.
“Don’t you want to eat anything?” Piper asks.
My God, you have no idea.
I settle for another slice of pizza and eat it slowly, staring at Piper while she’s too distracted by the food to notice me. She’s using a free hand to flick through her phone, and then somehow uses that to put an episode of Luther on the television.
It’s not easy covering up the fact that you’ve been secluded from the outside world for five years. I streamed a bit of television the last time I was on shore leave, but it was nowhere near as widespread as it is now. I’m sure I’m going to fuck up and give the game away at some point. If I do, it’s bound to be related to my dated knowledge of technology.
“I was going to buy doughnuts,” I say, “but that seemed a bit cliché, what with you being a cop.”
“Who doesn’t love a doughnut?” she asks. “But I prefer pizza, even if it does add on more calories than I just burnt off working out for the last two hours.”
“It’s not like you need to worry about your figure.”
“You’ve been staring at it so much you’ll be able to see exactly where the weight ends up being distributed.”
I smile and don’t deny it. I’m not half as subtle as I like to think I am. “Being a cop must keep you in shape.”
“It helps. I’ve been doing some intensive training recently.”
“So you’re still fairly junior?”
“Yeah. Actually, I guess I’m not anymore. I wish I were, but instead, I’m basically paid to stand around and make sure no one tries to kill our illustrious senator.”
I’m surprised to hear her admit it, but she’s been seen in public with him, so I suppose it’s not a huge secret.
“Wow, that sounds impressive. You’re a bodyguard?”
“I guess, but don’t expect me to carry Senator Robertson off into the sunset like in the movie.”
“You sure? You could get Whitney Houston to sing while you do it.”
“I’m sure. And it might be a little tricky to get Whitney Houston to go along with that.”
“Why?”
She looks at me like I’m an insane madman. “You know… because she’s dead.”
“Oh right, yeah. I forgot.”
When did that happen? I need to spend more time looking at ‘Year in Review’ articles for the last five years before I give the game away.
“I thought you had a photographic memory.”
“I do. It’s more the numbers thing.”
“Whatever. How much longer are you in town?”
“However long you want.”
“You have a lot of flexibility for a political correspondent.”
“And you’re changing the subject.”
She looks away and reaches for another slice of pizza, before noticing that the box is empty. Her hand moves deftly over to her wine glass, which she sips slowly.
“Nothing’s really changed,” she says. “You’re still only in town temporarily. I’m guessing you’re not going to buy any furniture for that apartment of yours?”
“Probably not.”
“There you go, then. I’ll admit, you’re not as much of a jackass as I first thought you were.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. And I’m sure you probably know what you’re doing in bed. I’ll admit it, I’m a little tempted, but I don’t do one night stands.”
How many times have I heard those words over the years? In my experience, the woman who says she ‘doesn’t do one night stands’ without being prompted is almost definitely going to have a one night stand that same evening. I’ve even known women insist they don’t do one night stands while we’re literally in the process of doing it.
“You want more than just one night,” I say.
“I don’t do the whole friends with benefits thing either. Not anymore.”
“Bad experiences?”
She nods. “Feelings always end up being stronger than you expect them to be.”
“You’re worried you’re going to fall in love with me?”
Piper laughs loudly. “What? No, I meant the other way around.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” she insists firmly. “Men always end up getting too emotionally involved. I’m not looking for that.”
The idea of me being the one to get too emotionally invested seems absurd at first, but I can totally believe it’s happened with other guys. Piper has the looks to draw men in, but it’s the feisty personality that wins you over. She might have broken almost as many hearts as I have. Maybe we’d make a good couple.
I take a sip from my own glass of wine and realize the stuff I bought is absolute garbage. I’ve never been a huge wine drinker, but I know I prefer white wine to be dry. This is sweet and tastes cheap. Piper doesn’t seem too concerned, given that she’s nearly finished off her entire glass. The girl is stressed, and could probably do with a relaxing evening.
“Tell you what,” I say, “I promise not to get overly-attached. I’ll only come see you when I want to fuck your brains out. Sound good?”
“They all say that.”
“You’re going to an awful lot of effort to not have fun. You’ve had a tough week at work. Perhaps it is time to relax.”
“I’ve forgotten how to relax.”
I take the wine bottle from her hand and place it on the table alongside mine. Then I grab her wrists and pull her towards me. She’s so light she comes towards me effortlessly; I grab her thighs, opening them so she can straddle my lap.
I’m waiting for her to resist, but it never happens.
I run my hands up to the top of her thighs as she slips her arms behind my neck. Her yoga pants are so thin I can feel the heat from her pussy even through the denim of my jeans. My cock immediately hardens, pressing desperately against the denim and straining to be set free. She rocks her hips ever so slightly against my hard cock, letting me know she can feel it there ready for her.
“This doesn’t feel very relaxing,” she says.
“No, but just think how relaxed you’ll feel afterward.”
“After what?”
“After your tight little pussy has come all over my cock. Or my mouth, if you prefer. Or perhaps both.”
“You’re a very confident man,” she says, before rocking her hips again, harder this time, as she rubs her clit against my cock. She wouldn’t be the first woman I’ve made come
without even taking off her clothes. For some, the anticipation of a huge cock is enough.
I slip my hands under her top and slowly run them up her slightly sticky body until I reach her breasts. They’re bigger than I’d expected, but I was right about the nipples. They are tiny; pert and hard, and desperate to have my lips sucking on them.
The movement of her hips is more consistent now; it’s still barely noticeable, but she’s gradually getting herself off against my hard cock.
Whenever our eyes meet, she quickly looks down at my chest. She’s not nervous, but she is desperately trying to keep things at arm’s length. That doesn’t work for me. I slide one hand out of her top, and grab her behind the neck, pulling her lips towards mine.
We kiss, and for one incredible moment, our tongues play in her mouth while she grinds on top of me. Then I finally meet the resistance I’d been expecting this entire time. She pulls away and puts her hands on my chest. She stays straddling me, but the grinding stops.
“I think that’s enough for tonight.”
“It’s fucking not,” I growl.
“Patience. Good things come to those who take the effort to go on a date first.”
“Tomorrow,” I say authoritatively.
“Next Friday.”
There’s no arguing. I get the impression there never will be with her.
“Fine. We’ll go see a movie. A short one. Then we come back here and fuck.”
Piper smiles, and thankfully doesn’t correct me. “You know where the theater is on 20th?”
“No. Give me the address and I’ll find it. You got a pen and paper?”
“A pen and paper? Just use your phone.”
I pull out my trusty flip phone and watch as a look of disgust spreads across her face.
“What the hell is that?” she asks.
“It’s my phone.”
“Are political correspondents paranoid about getting hacked or something?”
“Yeah, uh, it’s more common than you realize.”
“I’ll look up the address. There’s a pen and paper on my bedside table.”
I go in her bedroom and grab the pen and paper. Then I spot something. I’m not nosy by nature, but there are some things you can’t unsee. The bottom drawer is partly open, and I spot a purple vibrator lying on top of some clothes.
She’s still engrossed in her phone. I can’t help myself. I scribble a note on a piece of paper and shove it in her drawer, grabbing the vibrator and slipping it into my pocket the same time. It peeks out over the top and I have to cover it with my shirt. It looks too big for her, but I’m glad she appreciates the bigger things in life.
Piper gives me the address and I leave her place with her toy safely tucked away in my pocket. Next time she needs a little relief, she’s going to have to come see me. Navy SEALs have always been able to improvise on the spot. I probably won’t get a medal for this, though.
Chapter Ten
Piper
What’s the point in having a schedule if you never stick to it?
Senator Robertson has his day planned out in meticulous detail, but by the time the afternoon rolls around things start to unravel. I swear, he must get a thrill out of risking his life. Someone out there wants to kill him, and the senator thinks it’s a good idea to be wandering around in public. I take some solace from the fact that if I don’t know about the meeting in advance, then the killer probably doesn’t know either.
Just a few more hours to go and then it’s Friday night. Date night. With Alec.
That’s the only thing that’s been keeping me going all week. Every time the senator has looked at me inappropriately, or ignored my advice about his safety, I’ve let my mind wander to thoughts of Friday night with Alec. A shiver runs down my spine every time I do. A good one. A tingly one that starts along the spine, but ends between my thighs.
It took a remarkable amount of self-control to resist him last weekend. That’s an amount of self-control I didn’t realize I possessed. Every part of my body screamed at me to let him take me, but it wasn’t the right time. I trust Alec, but I don’t know why. I shouldn’t trust him. He’s clearly hiding something, and that whole thing about him being a political correspondent isn’t sitting right with me.
If his employer sent him into town for a story, he would’ve been put in a hotel, not given an apartment. If he was staying long enough to justify an apartment, he would have some furniture in it. There are people in prison with more comfortable environments to live in than Alec.
If I’m going to sleep with Alec, I need to trust him. Either that or I need to be horny beyond all reason. Both seem like possibilities right now.
First, I need to get through the rest of the day.
“This meeting could run on a bit,” the senator warns me. “The guy I’m meeting never shuts up. If I’m still in there at seven o’clock then come and get me with a made-up excuse.”
I want to tell him I’m not his fucking assistant, but I’m also supposed to be meeting Alec at eight o’clock and don’t want to be late.
“Yes, sir,” I reply obediently. This is another meeting where I have to stay far enough back that I can’t hear the discussion. For all his obvious faults—and he has many—the senator doesn’t seem stupid enough to talk about anything illegal in the middle of a restaurant. He just gets a kick out of keeping me out of the loop and showing off how important he is.
“What’s a young woman like yourself do on a Friday night, then?” the senator asks, as we drive to the restaurant.
“Going to see a movie.”
“A date?”
“Just with a friend,” I reply. For a few days, the senator maintained some vague sense of professionalism with me, but he’s long since given up with that now. He talks to me like he’s one of my girlfriends when in reality he’s a creepy boss.
“You’re single then? That seems to be the way things are these days. When I was your age, there used to be a stigma on still being unattached. Now it’s all ‘casual sex’ and ‘friends with benefits.’”
I stay silent and don’t rise to the bait.
“You don’t talk much, do you?” he continues.
“Just trying to keep focused on the job. Keeping you alive.”
“No reason we can’t have some fun while you do it. Lots of women are attracted to men in positions of power.”
That’s true enough. Never understood it myself, though. I like a powerful man, but I’m old-fashioned—I like power in the form of strength and muscle. Like Alec. Judging by his apartment, he’s not all that wealthy but he’s the most powerful man I know.
“Is that what your wife saw in you?” I ask. “Power?”
“Among other things. My wife’s a beautiful woman. I’m lucky to have her. She doesn’t mind my extracurricular activities, as long as I don’t rub her face in it. Keep that in mind.”
The car pulls up outside the restaurant, and the senator steps out without waiting for me to surveil first. He hasn’t listened to a word I’ve said since I started working for him. Now I know why he asked me to be his bodyguard; I’m eye candy for him. He doesn’t care about his own safety, he just wants someone nice to look at when he’s bored.
That’s a bit of a surprise, though. Not the eye candy bit, but that he doesn’t care about his safety. He’s arrogant, power-hungry, and ultimately a coward, like all bullies are. So why isn’t he worried?
I do my best to ignore all his lechy, pervy comments. I’m almost grateful for them, because Arlene and I are now convinced that the killer is either a former female employee who he hit on or perhaps a boyfriend or husband of that employee. If we follow that route, we can eliminate everyone annoyed at his political work and business dealings.
By letting him talk to me in that way, I’m taking one for the team. This man probably deserves to die or to at least get seriously injured, but I’d still like to find the killer. For one thing, it would mean I could go back to relatively normal work.
As the se
nator predicted, the meal runs late and I have to rescue him from dinner with a fake emergency. By the time I’ve escorted him to his house, it’s 7:30 and I’m running late for my date with Alec. The bus is late, because of course it is. That’s the way my luck is going. When I finally catch up to him waiting outside the movie theater, I’m frazzled, sticky, and not in the mood to be surrounded by hundreds of people.
Alec greets me with a smile and a kiss on the cheek, but all I can manage is a week ‘hi.’
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I reply in a tone of voice that clearly means ‘no.’ “It’s been a long week.”
“We don’t have to do this right now if you don’t want to.”
“I do want to, I just... actually, can we go back to my place and just chill in front of the TV?”
“You want to buy pizza on the way?”
“Oh my God, you read my mind.”
Judging by the blank expression on Alec’s face, I don’t think he’s aware of what ‘Netflix and chill’ really means. He soon catches on, though.
We’re barely ten minutes into the movie when he kisses me, pushing me onto my back as my legs open to take him between them. His lips are eager and impatient, and so is his cock. It’s hard, pulsing against my sex, teasing me with every gentle movement of his hips.
My fingers press into the firm muscles on his back, desperate to peel off his shirt but not wanting to make the first move. I’ve been with men as tall as Alec before, but never one this big. He’s thick and wide—everywhere. I’m insignificant under his heavy frame as his large hands make my breasts feel almost insignificant. He seems to be enjoying the moment.
I whimper and stare at the ceiling as he kisses my neck, a hand now moving down to grab my ass cheek. Any second now he’s going to remove something I’m wearing and then it’s over. We’ll both give up the pretense of being slow and he can have me at last. I only met him two weeks ago, but it feels like I’ve been waiting for this moment for months. I guess in some ways I have.
