by Eva Luxe
Smiling, remembering our activities from the night before, I said, “It was wonderful. It was very satisfying, and I had some of the most incredible dreams.”
“Tres bien!” he exclaimed, doing a little hop and clicking his heels together. I laughed heartily.
Breaking from character, he softened his voice and asked, “What were your dreams about?”
I guess I hadn’t expected him to ask that question and I wasn’t prepared to give an answer. There was no way that I was going to tell him that I’d dreamt about us moving in together and living happily ever after.
Even though I cared for Kurt a lot and really enjoyed our time together (especially all the sex), I felt like it was just too soon for me to be confessing my love for him and scaring him off like some psycho stalker.
“Oh, I just dreamed about my family,” I lied. “We were all together, having dinner, and my son, Scott, was so happy. And seeing all of them happy made me happy.”
Kurt’s shoulders seemed to fall slightly, and his smile seemed to falter. It was almost as if he expected me to say something else. Was I imagining that?
“Well, good,” he said pleasantly. “I had some amazing dreams myself. But, mine were mostly like reenactments of us in the bedroom last night.”
He licked his lips hungrily, staring me straight in the eyes. I was starting to warm up and I knew that it had nothing to do with the heat of the stove and everything to do with the heat that was beginning to build between my legs as I watched Kurt watch me.
Breaking from our trance, he turned back to the stove and fell back into his character as the French chef.
“No matter, my dear. Right now, my priority is making this delicious meal made just for you with love. You will sing. You will dance. You will be completely overjoyed, and I will have the pleasure of knowing that it was I who prepared this special meal for you from the heart of my home country, France. Just be sure to kiss the cook, as you Americans like to say.”
We shared a laugh. I couldn’t help but feel more drawn to him, more endeared. Not only was I moved by this gesture, him cooking for me, but the care in which he did so made me feel special. And it wasn’t just the cooking. It was also the way that he tuned into my feelings, showing me that he cared.
Even though I tried to dismiss it away as some fly-by-night, I couldn’t help but feel that it was something much more than that. While I could stay the thought of us running off to get married, I knew that something real was beginning to grow, not just for me but for him, too.
It made me think about my husband. When I married him, I was sure that I would always be loved and cared for. And I was. He never gave me any reason to doubt him or feel like I was missing something. In fact, I felt like I had the whole world and I made that known to anyone who came into earshot of our perfect little world.
And yet, here I was, sitting in the kitchen, thousands of miles away from home, with a man who was virtually a stranger just days ago, feeling a level of admiration that I’d never felt, for anyone other than my husband.
As wonderful as my husband was, he had never paid this much attention to me. Not like this. I think that he’d done it in different ways, choosing to spend more time working and showing me how well he could provide for us. But, here was a man who had so much more responsibility, who was pulled away from his company, where hundreds of people relied on him for their livelihoods, and he stood in the kitchen making a gourmet meal for me.
I was turned on, on so many levels.
I sat in silence, watching him in curious amusement as he measured, poured, flipped, scooped, and finished up making the food.
Then, he started singing Ave Maria. I recognized the song because one year for our anniversary, my husband had surprised me with tickets to the Italian opera on Broadway. I had never been, but it was so beautiful and such an amazing experience. Hearing Kurt do a perfect rendition of the song made my mouth literally drop open in awe. What does this man not do?
I listened intently as his voice lilted through the vaulted ceiling and came back down, reverberating throughout the kitchen. When he was finally finished and I could finally find my words, I spoke.
“Where the hell did that come from? How do you know how to sing opera so well?”
He laughed lightly, with a sheepish grin on his face.
“That, my dear, is a long story,” he said. “But, rather than bore you with all the details, I will just say that I have studied Italian opera since I was a little boy. My parents had dreams of me becoming an opera singer. Well, my mother did, mostly. My father just supported her dream. I always loved singing, so in my years abroad, they had me studying with the most esteemed vocal coach. I trained with him for many years until he passed away. I still have a great love for opera. In fact, I am at an opera at least four times per year. Now, it’s something that my daughter and I do together. But, I’m almost embarrassed because I haven’t sung myself in many years and have never sang in front of someone else.”
“It was really good!” I gushed, almost cutting him off. “I am simply blown away by you, Kurt.”
“Thank you,” he replied, graciously bowing his head. I could tell that he was just as moved by the compliment as I was of his awesome performance.
“Now, I have so many questions about you, Kurt. I don’t even know where to start.”
“Stick around and you’ll find out everything that you want to know. And then some.” He winked playfully.
Just then, a timer went off.
“Just in time,” he said. He rushed over to the cabinet and searched until he found two plates. He took great care to place the food neatly onto the plates. It really did look like something out of a French magazine.
Putting forks on the plates and coming around to my side of the counter, he said, “Bon appetit.” He waited for me to take my first bite, watching my face carefully.
It was so delicious! I had never tasted anything like it anywhere. I was truly in awe.
“Oh, my goodness, Kurt! This is absolutely amazing! Where in the world did you learn to make this?”
“France, of course,” his mock French accent making another appearance.
“Let me guess,” I said. “Your parents got you cooking lessons from one of the world’s greatest chefs.”
“Well…yes,” he answered, matter-of-factly.
“Oh,” I said, embarrassed. “I was just kidding. I didn’t know that that was what had happened.
He chuckled softly and said, “It’s okay. I’ve long since stopped apologizing for having such a privileged life. I am very grateful to my parents for all of the great opportunities that they made possible for me to enjoy. They are the reason that I am the man that I am today. I only hope that I can help my daughter to become a great woman, even though she doesn’t have the luxury that most children do: a loving mother to help care for and guide her through womanhood.”
My heart almost shattered to pieces as the most forlorn look was etched on his face. I couldn’t imagine how helpless he must feel to be raising a daughter on his own without the mother of his child. Even though I was a single parent, I had my own father to help show my son a great example of a man. His little girl would never see a good example of a mother since her own mother had discarded her like yesterday’s news.
“I’ve only been to France once,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.
“Well, I guess I’ll have to take you again soon. That is, once my plane gets fixed.”
We finished eating our meal, chatting away happily about happier times. I told Kurt about my disastrous night in France, where I’d also lost all my luggage and spent the night with no way of communication with anyone because I had no idea that the electrical outlets in France were different than ours. Kurt promised that our trip to France would be nothing short of magical.
When we finished eating, Kurt cleared the counter and guided me silently back to our room, holding my hand so gently, as if he thought that holding it too tightly would make it bre
ak.
I was so full and satisfied, I felt like I was floating in a dream that I never wanted to end.
Kurt scooped me up in his arms and stared deeply into my eyes. After a long moment, he laid me carefully on the bed, spreading my legs open wide. He stood back, admiring every inch of me. When he leaned down to bury his head between my legs, my toes curled. He lapped up my sweet juices, deliberately and softly at first, then going faster and faster as sticky wetness started welling up inside of my tight hole. I came hard.
He unsheathed his throbbing penis and guided it with ease inside of me, groaning with pleasure as his hard dick settled into the depth of my still pulsating pussy.
“I want you, Dana,” he whispered.
“I want you, too,” I responded.
We got lost in each other and our passion, but it was different this time. It seemed more real, more passionate than ever.
I couldn’t help but think if what I was feeling was the beginning of true love. It certainly felt that way to me.
Chapter 12 – Kurt
As I lay there holding Dana in my arms, I couldn’t help but feel pangs of guilt, remembering the events that happened in the middle of the night while she slept.
I woke up to the sound of my phone vibrating again and again. I was enjoying the time that I was spending with Dana so much that I didn’t want anything to snap me back to reality. I felt like picking up the phone would be one step closer to shattering this all-too-perfect dream and reminding me exactly how loveless and empty my world really was.
But the ringing didn’t stop. I started to get worried, thinking that something terrible had happened to Olivia. Very careful not to wake Dana, I reluctantly shuffled over to the dresser to retrieve my phone.
I sighed with relief to see that it was James, my pilot, calling.
He called again and, stepping into the hallway, I answered, whispering, “Hello?”
“Hey there, Mr. Roberts! Great news! We were able to get the part that we needed, and we can take off whenever you’re ready. Did you want me to have the car sent around to bring you here?”
I should have been excited by the news. Every minute that I spent away from my business was one where I was losing money. My email inbox was filled with frantic queries from my business partners, trying to find out the status of my situation and when we would be able to get back on track with business. Most of them had been left unanswered because I simply hadn’t had any news to report.
So, you would think that I would have been happy to be getting the news that we could all go back to business as usual. But, I wasn’t. To me, it meant the end to the time that Dana and I was spending together. Seeing that we had crossed so many lines, it could actually mean the end to all of our interactions, even professionally. Maybe she would decide that we would have to cut all ties, making a clean break. It might be too much to deal with each other on a professional level considering that we had been together so intimately. I didn’t even want to imagine it, so I was determined to do all that I could to keep that from happening.
“Uh, no, that’s okay. It’s the middle of the night and Dana is still sleeping. As a matter of fact, everyone is sleeping, including our gracious host. I would hate for it to look like I am slipping out in the middle of the night without properly thanking them for their hospitality. Let me give everyone a chance to wake up, thank our host, and repay them for their kindness. And let me talk things over with Dana. Once I do that, I’ll be sure to call you right away for further instructions.”
“Look, the roads are clear. The sky is perfect. We can touch down before business even opens for the day. I’ll have the car be on its way and you can just come here. That way you’ll be home with plenty of time for Christmas. You can always sleep on the plane.”
On one hand, I appreciated his diligence in trying to get things back on track, but his attempt to override my wishes were mildly irritating.
“You don’t tell me what’s going to happen. I will tell you. Do you understand? I said that I am going to let everyone continue to sleep since it’s the middle of the night and that’s that.”
“I’m sorry, boss. I just thought…”
“I know what you thought and that’s why I’m advising you to rethink. Because you are way out of line here. You can’t tell me when we are going to leave. I will tell you. Are we clear?”
“Yes, sir,” came his quiet reply.
“Good. I will be calling you as soon as I have decided on what we will do. I expect that you will be waiting by the phone for my call. And James?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t ever let that happen again. If it does, you will be out of work for a very long time. Not just for me, but for anyone.”
I hung up the phone before he had a chance to respond. I was angry, but not completely at James. He was only doing his job. Plus, he hadn’t had the luxury of sleeping in a nice, comfy bed in a warm cabin. He had been stuck at the airport, working feverishly for me, sacrificing his time and comfort. And how did I repay him? By yelling at him and threatening him.
I wasn’t angry at James really at all. I was angrier at myself for allowing my feelings to get so wrapped up in the situation, that I was allowing it to override logic, and what I knew was the responsible thing to do. Which is exactly what James had tried to suggest before I shut him down.
What was wrong with me? I had never felt like this with anyone, not even my own wife, who had begged me over and over again to take time off work to give more attention to our daughter and our crumbling marriage. But, I refused to lose focus on my business. Now, here I was willing to risk it all, for a few fleeting moments, with a complete stranger. One of my employees, at that!
I stepped outside to get some fresh air, thinking that maybe that would help me snap back into reality. The brisk breeze and the stillness of the night only made me want to rush back to bed to relish every moment with Dana since it seemed like everything would soon be coming to a close. As I walked down the long hallway, my heart grew heavier and heavier with each step.
When I got to our room, I opened the door. Dana lay on the bed, sleeping peacefully, looking like an angel. I stood there, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest as she slept on, blissfully unaware of anything going on around her. I wished that I could have stood there watching her forever.
She stirred, looked at me, and smiled.
“What are you doing just standing there smiling at me?” she asked sleepily.
“Nothing, my dear. Go back to sleep,” I said, slipping into bed next to her. She felt so warm and her sweet, womanly scent seemed to envelope me. I wrapped my arms around her, burying my face into her hair, inhaling her glorious scent. I never wanted to let her go.
“Everything okay?” she asked, her body tensing.
“Yes, everything is fine,” I said, hoping to ease her fears.
I couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt at not telling her the news about the plane. I knew that she was eager to get back home to her parents and her son so that they could stop worrying and know that everything would be okay. And I really wanted to put her mind at ease so that she wouldn’t feel burdened by worry.
But, a part of me didn’t want to see her get excited at the thought of leaving our days of passion behind. She had agreed to be mine during this trip and I didn’t want it to end. I didn’t think that I could bear the thought of her leaving me behind as a blip on her radar, a dwindling figure in her rearview.
It was funny that I was feeling that way since I’d done it so many times myself with other women. I guess I would be getting a taste of my own medicine if she did decide to do that. And if I was willing to do the right thing, I would have told her right then and there, giving her a chance to make an informed decision on the matter.
But, I wasn’t prepared to be that guy and I was even less willing to risk losing her. So, instead, I held onto her tighter.
I tried to imagine myself having a conversation with her, one where I told her that I w
as beginning to have strong feelings for her, that I thought that I might even be falling for her. Even the thought of having that conversation with her made me feel weak, vulnerable, like I was less than a man.
I wondered what my business partners and employees would think if they knew how soft Dana made me feel. I had prided myself on being strong, not at all moved or driven by emotion. It was one of the things that made me such a great business leader. In every scenario that I worked out in my head where I told Dana my true feelings, they all ended with me being laughed at or looked at as weak by her. As emotionally strong as I knew myself to be, I also knew that I would be crushed if she were to reject me in that way.
After divorcing my wife, I promised myself that I would never open my heart up to another woman again. I would never risk having my heart broken. That was why I had a lineup of random women in and out of my bed. There was never any real intimacy and I would quickly rush them away if I felt like they were trying to linger too long and make things more complicated than they needed to be.
There was one girl who tried really hard to get past my defenses. Her name was Sharon. She was a model. She was very pretty and seemed to have a pleasant personality, but I had held firm in my resolve and made sure to stay as far away from her as possible. After a few weeks of her reaching out and me dodging her advances, she got the message and I didn’t hear from her again.
Now, here I was, the one wanting, no, yearning, for more and besides enjoying spending time together and having some of the most mind-blowing sex that I’d ever had, Dana hadn’t given me any reason to think that things would go much further than this.
I laughed at myself for being so silly and immature in my thinking. Here I was with the perfect opportunity to have fun and just enjoy my down time and I was wasting it by overthinking and being worried about something that probably didn’t even matter all that much in the grand scheme of things. So, I decided that I would stop worrying and just have fun. I would definitely have sex with her one more time before we left. OK, maybe two or three times more.
