by Kelly, Hazel
“Oh, and Cassie,” he says, draping his hand over the doorknob and looking over his shoulder. “I’m sure you know this case was her big shot at a year-end promotion?”
I nod.
“Well, now it’s yours.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Thank me by winning,” he says.
I stare at the door after he leaves, the mixed feelings bubbling up inside me. I mean, this is the lucky break I’ve been waiting for, but the timing is…uninspiring. Plus, after Rebecca got the case over me, I spent two months convincing myself it was virtually unwinnable and that I’d dodged a bullet, so needless to say, I am decidedly overwhelmed right now.
When the phone rings, I’m relieved to see it’s the only person I know who finds real delight in helping other people process their neuroses. “Please tell me you’re calling because you won the lottery and you need full-time companionship on your worldwide cruise.”
Ruby laughs, and the light sound manages to lift my heart instantly. “Tough day at the office?”
“Not until about thirty seconds ago.”
“What happened?”
“The most high-profile case at the firm just landed in my lap, and I have to process six months of research by, oh, I don’t know, yesterday.”
“Sounds like a great opportunity.”
“It is,” I say, reaching for the folder. “Just not one I was prepared for.”
“Ah, but you’ve been nailing those lately…or should I say getting nailed.”
“Very funny.” I lean back in my chair and let myself slouch for a second. “Did you just call to torment me?”
“On the contrary, I wanted to know if you were up for going one more time.”
“Going where?” I ask, flipping the folder open.
“To another party like the one we went to last weekend.”
My eyes grow wide and I sit up. “You must be joking.”
“Actually, I’m not.”
“I thought it was a one-time thing? I thought you just wanted to check it off your list?”
“I did,” she says, “But I’ve felt guilty all week.”
“Guilty?” I don’t know what she could feel guilty about. I’ve been walking taller than ever after boldly abandoning my comfort zone from behind the safety of a two-dollar invisibility cloak.
“Yeah. Like, because I was a newbie, I was kind of overwhelmed, and the couple I hooked up with took such great care making a fuss over me that… I don’t know. I just feel like I should give back a little more.”
I squint to make sure I’ve heard her. “Give back?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s not a fucking gift exchange, Ruby.”
“Isn’t it, though?”
I roll my eyes. “I think the one time was altogether distracting enough, to be honest, especially now that I’m responsible for this extra case.”
“Don’t you see? That’s why it’s the perfect time to go.”
I shake my head. “I’m not following.”
“What a great time for you to blow off some steam and clear your head… Or somebody else’s.”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Lie to yourself all you want, but I know you want to see that guy again.”
“You know no such thing.”
“You’re right, but only because you wouldn’t tell me a damn thing after we left the party.”
“Because I’m a lady.”
“Bullshit,” she says. “You’re never a lady when you’ve had a bad time with a guy. When that happens, you can’t wait to tell me every sorry detail.”
I press my lips together.
“You’re probably blushing again at the thought of him.”
“I am not,” I say. “And even if I were, there’s no way of knowing if he’ll actually be there.”
“So true,” she says. “But wouldn’t it be a shame if he was and he had to settle for someone else?”
I feel a pang of jealousy that’s as sharp as it is inappropriate. “I don’t have time for a relationship right now—imagined or otherwise.”
“Which is why some no-strings sex is the perfect extracurricular for you.”
I sigh.
“No pressure, though,” she says. “Just wanted to let you know that I’m going whether you want to come or not.”
“When is it?”
“A week from Saturday,” she says.
“I’ll think about it,” I say, realizing I’m disappointed it’s not sooner…which is how I know I’m really in trouble.
F O U R
Ruby and I each scull a glass of prosecco as soon as we enter the mansion, but we part ways quickly to avoid people mistaking us for a two-for-one deal. After all, I love my friend dearly, but I’m not interested in loving her in that way.
Besides, I’ve got a very different match in mind. Do I feel a bit psychotic stalking around the mansion looking for a particular masked man? Yes, of course. But once again, being undercover has made me feel bolder and more fearless than I am in real life, where everything is just so, down to the buttons on my tailored three-piece suits.
But this isn’t about real life. This is about reliving a fantasy I didn’t know I had, about doing something so kinky that most people only read about it.
Unfortunately, I can’t find him anywhere. He’s not haunting the hall upstairs, and I know better than to start knocking on doors. I’m not quite that brave. And I don’t see him lingering in any of the dark corners or sprawled on the cozy couches.
I loop back towards the entryway table so another glass of prosecco can keep me company while I try to figure out how I’m going to kill time until Ruby is done “giving back.” Once I’ve nabbed one, I head to the drawing room where someone’s just started playing the grand piano.
Every hair on my body rises when I step in the room and see the broad shoulders on the piano player. His hands flutter across the keys with a fluidity that makes my stomach flip, and his jawline is familiar even from a distance.
I drain my prosecco one sip at a time as I glide along the perimeter of the room, trying to get a better look at him. I believe it’s Bach that he’s playing, but I don’t know which piece specifically, and he’s so engaged in what he’s doing he doesn’t see me approach him. I slide onto the end of the bench, wishing I hadn’t just ditched my empty glass because now I don’t know what to do with my hands.
I haven’t caught his eye yet, but every inch of me knows it’s him. I can feel it. And I recognize his mouth and the shape of his lips, which are frozen in concentration.
His whole body stays completely still while he plays—apart from his hands, of course—and I’m surprised at how gracefully they fly across the keys, especially considering the size of them.
I swallow, trying to force my pounding heart somewhere far away, but the tension in the music is rising, and when I take a deep breath, I can smell his familiar aftershave, which does little to settle my nerves. On the contrary, it makes me picture him in a towel pulled tightly around his chiseled hips, a few stray drops of water dripping down his chest.
My mouth waters like I’m at a restaurant about to receive a meal I’ve been looking forward to all week, and if I weren’t so nervous, I’d probably laugh at how much I’ve built up this moment, how much I’ve obsessed over what it would be like to see him again, to let him touch me again, to strip for him again and watch his mouth twitch with approval.
He’s almost in a trance by the time he builds to the crescendo, and I wonder what it would be like to slip under the table and free him from his pants, what it would be like to take him in my mouth deeper than I should. I can’t honestly say I’ve ever given a hundred percent when it came to giving a blow job, but the way this guy is playing the piano makes me want to gag on him until my eyes water, preferably while he pulls my hair as deep groans tumble from his throat.
I wish I could name this feeling.
I mean, I know it’s not love, though I’ve heard love can inspire a
person so much it makes them capable of things they never thought possible. But I don’t even know him. I suppose it’s lust because it’s so primal, but it’s more than that. I feel so drawn to him I don’t recognize myself. All the things I care about—all my incessant worries—feel so far away when he’s near, like I’m merely some sexy forest nymph who spends all her days seeking carnal pleasure.
It’s as liberating as it is terrifying, which goes for the music, too.
And then it stops.
He pauses for a moment, like he can still hear the last note fading out. Then he turns to me.
I smile more awkwardly than I mean to.
“Hello, stranger.”
His voice makes my hands sweat, and I flatten them against my thighs. “Hello.”
“What a nice surprise.”
“Bach, was it?” I ask, wanting him to like and respect me, though for what reason I can’t be sure.
“Toccata and Fugue.”
“I thought so,” I lie, struggling to keep my eyes on his, but his dark stare is so penetrating I nearly wilt.
“I took lessons as a kid,” he says, resting his fingers on the keys. “Hated every minute of it.”
I’m struck by the fact that there’s anything even remotely normal about him. “Me too.”
“And do you play?” he asks. “Still?”
“Only on request,” I say. “And only if the request is for ‘Heart and Soul.’”
The corner of his mouth curls into a smile, and he points an open palm towards the keys.
“I don’t think so,” I say. “Not after that.”
“Please,” he says, scooting over to give me space.
“You don’t have to scoot,” I say. “I only remember the right hand.”
“I’ll accompany you then,” he says, his left hand hovering over the keys.
I press my lips together and wish I hadn’t said anything.
“On three,” he says, counting down.
And we begin to play. My embarrassment is quickly overwhelmed by how hard I have to concentrate, but it’s not long before I’m actually enjoying it. I mean, the whole thing is ridiculous, but he keeps time with me perfectly—even when my timing is imperfect—and the song doesn’t sound half bad.
I’m almost sad when I reach the end.
“I’m impressed,” he says, turning his body towards me.
“Don’t mock me,” I say, my eyes tracing his strong jaw.
“Mocking you is the last thing I’m interested in doing,” he says, his voice dropping as if he wants me to take a hint.
“And what’s the first?”
“Fucking your perfect little pussy again, of course,” he says, sliding his hand up the inside of my thigh. “I just can’t decide whether I want to take you right on this bench or steal you away somewhere.”
“This is a bit…public, don’t you think?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder. There’s no one in the room right now, but it’s open to the entryway and I can see people milling by in the hall.
“I’m flattered that you want me all to yourself.”
“I’m flattered that you remember me.”
“Of course I remember you,” he says. “I’ll be lucky if I can ever forget you.”
It strikes me as a weird thing to say, but before I can follow up with a comment to ease my nerves, he walks around to my side of the bench and scoops me up into his arms. I’m a little self-conscious since I’ve never been quite as light as I claim to be on my driver’s license, for example, but he’s not even remotely burdened by my weight as he carries me towards the back of the house.
I hang an arm around his neck and feel a flirtatious flutter in my chest that’s entirely inappropriate in this situation. I know I can’t develop real feelings for this person, no matter how mesmerizing his piano playing or how much he makes me feel like a delicate fairy.
He doesn’t set me down until he’s found an unoccupied room. I see that it’s a home gym when he starts messing with the lighting, most of which is far too bright. In the end, he leaves the lights off and turns the flashlight on his phone towards the ceiling, giving us enough light that we won’t trip over anything, but not so much as to ruin the mood.
“So,” I say, clasping my hands in front of me.
“So,” he says, throwing his jacket over a stationary bike.
“Do you come to these parties a lot or—”
“No,” he says, stepping up to me. “But when I do, I always come.”
“Very funny.”
“I’m glad to see you, though,” he says, pushing the thin straps of my dress off my shoulders. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot since we met.”
I raise my hands to his buttons, not wanting to stand there like an idiot. “Is that so?” I ask. “What in particular have you been thinking about?”
“About how you taste,” he says. “About how wet you got for me.”
I struggle to keep the sound of my breathing under control as I pull his shirt from his waistband and undo his last buttons.
“About the fact that you let me play with your ass when you don’t even know me.”
My eyes flick up at him.
“What did you come back for?” he asks. “More of the same? Or something new?”
“I came back to repay the attention you showed me.”
He walks behind me and unzips my dress before pulling it down to my hips, leaving my strapless bra and underwear alone. “What exactly does that mean?” he whispers in my ear before grazing my lobe with his teeth.
“I want to taste you,” I say so quietly I’m not sure I’ve said it out loud.
“Sorry,” he says, pushing my shoulders down.
I sink to my knees on a padded mat and swallow.
“I didn’t quite catch that,” he says, walking back around me as he undoes his pants.
“I said I want to taste you,” I say, knowing damn well he’s heard me.
“How bad?” he asks, pushing his pants and his boxers down.
His dick is so big and swollen I’m afraid I’ve made a mistake, but it’s also perfect, and I spend enough time playing it safe and keeping everything under control. What I want is to be used by this man, to feel like sex is all I’m good for. Just for a second. Just for fun. “Really bad,” I say, not exactly sure how this talking dirty stuff is supposed to go.
He kicks his pants to the side and strokes himself in front of me. “I’ll let you taste me,” he says. “As long as you promise to do exactly what I say.”
I nod, fixated on how his strong hands slide up and down his thick cock.
He pulls a nearby weight bench over and sits on the edge of it. Then he reaches down, tilts my chin up, and drags his thumb across my bottom lip. “Such a pretty mouth,” he says.
I wish he would lean over and kiss me, but I know better. This guy doesn’t play like that. Hooking up with him is about enjoying myself from the neck down in all the ways I can.
“Show my balls some love first,” he says, cocking his dick up against his belly.
I reach forward and fondle his balls with one hand, the weight of them making my mouth water. Unfortunately I don’t quite know what he wants me to-
“Suck on them,” he says. “Show me what your tongue can do.”
I lean forward, using my hand to stuff one in my mouth.
He moans softly as I suck him, rubbing the other ball between my fingers.
“Yeah,” he says, sliding his fingers through my hair. “Harder.”
I moan as I flick my tongue back and forth, warming his sac in my mouth with an enthusiasm that matches his own.
“Now,” he says. “Lick my dick all over, but no sucking it yet.”
I flatten my tongue against the underside of his shaft and lick up to his head nice and slow. By the time his dick is coated in my spit, my panties are drenched.
“Open your mouth,” he says, pulling my hair as he guides his swollen dick to the back of my throat.
I seal my lips aroun
d him and start sucking.
“Good woman,” he says, setting the pace of my bobbing head with the back of his hand.
I grab one of his thighs to steady myself and slip my other hand around the base of his cock, gripping him as hard as I can.
He groans, and the sound fills me with fire. I speed up the pace, and he drops his hand, leaving me in charge. My jaw is stretched as wide as it will go, and I swallow his head to keep from gagging on every deep thrust.
“You’re going to make me come, baby.”
The muscles in my jaw are begging me to stop, but I’m too curious, and I’ve already gone too far. I can’t shake the feeling that I have to finish, that we won’t be on equal footing until I’ve tasted him, too.
He cries out, and his desire fills my mouth so much I have to gulp it down to keep it from spilling down my chin. And all the while I milk him with my hands, as if drinking down every last drop is the only way I can get to the next level in this crazy house.
“Fuck,” he breathes as I release him and wipe the corners of my mouth on the back of my hand. “That was incredible.”
I suppress the smile that tries to break through.
He drops to his knees on the padded mat and takes my face in his hands.
For a second, I think he’s going to kiss me, but he doesn’t, he just holds my head, like he’s admiring me, like he doesn’t quite know what to say. “Admit it,” he says, finally. “You’re one of those women that’s good at everything you do.”
I shrug, letting him think he’s figured me out.
He drops his hand and reaches around to unhook my bra. “Lie down.”
I scoot back on the mat.
“No,” he says, rolling a medium-sized stability ball behind me. “On this.”
“Lie on it?”
He nods and helps me get my balance once I’ve arched my back over it.
“Let your arms dangle,” he says. “You don’t need them for what I have planned.”
I feel him move between my legs, and he moans when he touches the outside of my underwear.
“God, you’re wet,” he says.
I close my eyes and let him slide my underwear down before pulling me close and laying his tongue against my clit.
