by Ashley Pullo
My mouth suddenly dry, I subtly clear my throat and attempt a smile. “Unfortunately, I live there. I’m on my way to an interview for the French Foundation . . . hence the light reading en français.”
“Sexy and smart. What do you do exactly, besides seduce rich men on trains?” Zach’s thumb makes its way under my skirt, sending a warming sensation into hyper-drive. From the size of his hands and the dexterity of his thumbs, I can only assume he’s thick and powerful below the belt. And did he just say rich?
“I’m a full-time seductress and a part-time PR expert. I specialize in making people look good.” I smile as his hand rests entirely under my skirt. “And you, heading into the City for a matinee?”
Zach’s head shakes with amusement. “You’re incredible, Natalie. Can I take you to dinner after your interview?”
“What about the library? I was looking forward to some bibliosex.” I pout jokingly.
Zach’s masculine frame rises and hovers above me momentarily before squeezing next to me on the narrow two-seater. He puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me close to his face. His cologne is sexy, and the small group of freckles spotting his nose are even sexier. I’m a sucker for a man-boy.
“Natalie, I plan to fuck you. I’ve already imagined you in multiple positions, mostly on your knees sucking my cock, taking it deeper and deeper until it burns your throat . . . but also on top of me grinding your incredible body into physical exhaustion.” Zach leans in closer so that his lips brush against my flushed cheek. “Do you believe me? Is that what you want?”
“Uh huh.” That’s the best I can do. Damn it, he’s using my ploy.
“Tickets.” An attendant appears with a hole puncher and a tiny frown.
Zach takes the paper ticket hiding in my book and hands it to the guy along with his laminated ticket. What the fuck? Only one type of person has a laminated monthly train pass. A commuter.
As soon as the attendant moves to the other car, I snap my head in Zach’s direction. “Why were you in Greenwich?” I pretty much live by the motto of taking a bull by his balls and living life by the moment, but I can’t stand a liar. If this guy is married, then I’m going—
“My mom has cancer and I take her to her treatments every Monday, Wednesday and Saturday. My father hates those offices, watching them poke and prod her with needles.”
Oh, well now I feel like shit.
“I’m sorry. That must be difficult for you. I can’t imagine what my life would be like caring for someone other than myself; I’m kinda selfish that way.” Zach angles his back to rest against the window and studies my face.
“I seriously doubt that. You strike me as a very giving person.” He pauses with a sincere smile and then adds, “Natalie, there’s nothing wrong with wanting something for yourself. A dream doesn’t make you selfish.”
“So, do you live or work in Manhattan?” I ask.
“Both. I live in TriBeCa and work for my family’s company near Mt. Sinai. Don’t judge!” Zach smiles boyishly, but there seems to be a hint of despair behind his eyes.
“You didn’t judge me and I was reading a children’s book.” I run my hand over his muscular leg as he shifts his weight to allow for full exploration.
“Are we still on for dinner?” he asks.
As the train enters the dark tunnel on its non-stop plow to Grand Central, the lights flicker on and off. Zach reaches in to kiss me. Even with the speed of the train and the constant flashing of lights, the kiss is suspended in a place far removed from our present life.
The overhead announcement crackles through the train, “Grand Central Station.”
Oxygen returns to my brain as our mouths part. “Zach, I would love to have dinner with you, I just don’t know when I’ll be done.”
When the train stops at the underground platform, I start to stand. Zach pulls me back down to him and places his hand gently on my cheek.
“Natalie, tu es belle et intelligente, mais tu ne comprends même pas ce que je te dis. On a besoin d’explorer le plaisir afin d’oublier la douleur.”
I raise my eyebrows and smile, not having a clue what he said in its entirety. “What? I don’t know—”
Laughing, Zach replies, “I’ll wait for you outside the interview. It won’t take long.”
I really hope he’s right.
Leaning against a marble abstract figure outside the Foundation, Zach asks, “How did it go?”
I still can’t get over how incredibly gorgeous he is, but I will not allow myself to fall so quickly. This stage of my life is simply a bridge from point A to B, and although Zach could very likely be my B, I want to enjoy the journey a little longer.
“Total bomb! Fuck the French!” I shout loudly as a nearby businessman frowns in disgust. Ever since 9/11, people are a little too sensitive about freedom of speech, understandable, but still a shitty way to live as a Canadian-American.
“They obviously don’t realize they’re missing out on a hot piece of ass that could help with their stuffy image.”
Zach offers me his hand and I gladly accept. He hails a taxi, which I’m thankful for, seeing as it’s nearly ninety degrees on hot cement and my alligator pumps are wreaking havoc on my ankles.
Once inside the smelly cab, Zach rolls up his sleeves and flicks open another button to his dress shirt. I stare at his tan chest, taunting me and unleashing my inner vixen. Smiling, his hand casually reaches across my chest to pop open another button to my flimsy shirt.
“That’s much better, don’t ya think?” Zach’s index finger skims the edge of my bra and I flinch, not from shock, but from need. Our mutual forwardness is totally comfortable, and sexy as fuck.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Natalie, are you ignoring my flirtation?” Zach wiggles his eyebrows as his other hand glides freely up my thigh.
“Nope, just wondering if a bed or table will be involved.” I place my hand on top of his and move it to the crease of my panties.
“Definitely a bed. Possibly the shower.” He reaches in to kiss the tender stretch of skin just below my ear. Tiny beads of perspiration resting at my hairline freeze as soon as his lips caress my skin. Chills run down my bare arm as his finger presses against my thigh, making my top half chilly and my bottom half hot with desire.
We spend the entire cab ride kissing and fondling, and making each other moan. We never once make eye contact with the cabbie because there’s something exciting about tormenting our driver through the rearview mirror. Finally arriving at what I assume is his apartment building, Zach helps me out of the cab and pays the driver. We flash each other wicked grins as we walk to the building.
Firmly, Zach demands, “Upstairs. Now.” He moves us quickly past the doorman and straight to the elevator. It takes me a few moments to adjust to my surroundings, but wow, his building is gorgeous. Modern, yet full of mid-century character and charm. This is exactly how I imagined myself living all those nights as a Canadian teenager watching Friends.
When we’re alone inside the elevator, Zach traps me against the wall, presses the five button, and then resumes sliding my skirt up to rest on my waist. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull his lips to mine. His hands squeeze my hips as he positions his hard-on between my legs. Zach is large, no doubt, and I can’t wait to have him inside me. Ding.
The doors slide open and Zach grabs my waist, neglecting to lower my skirt. He pulls me to the door across the hall and fumbles for his keys. He has an American flag key fob! God Bless America for this All-American sex god.
The door flies open and he pushes me toward the living area. I step out of my painful pumps and throw my clutch somewhere near the couch. Zach tosses his bag on a nearby table and then immediately grabs my face to kiss me. It’s forceful this time, rushed and messy. He licks my neck as I unbutton his shirt . . . God damn it, my vibrating phone is messing with my mojo. We continue undressing as my phone buzzes again. Fils de Salope!
He backs me up against the couch a
nd lowers to his knees. Zach’s voice is breathless as he commands, “Answer the fucking phone.” His eyes dart quickly from my face to between my thighs. I arch my back to reach for my purse. Zach lowers my panties as the phone vibrates for the third time.
“It’s my parents,” I whisper, not realizing they can’t exactly hear me.
“Answer the phone,” he demands between kisses and licks.
“Zach, can you stop?” I flip open my phone and hit redial. It’s ringing and I have a tongue skinning my beaver – “Hey, Mom. Everything’s fine. That job wasn’t for me. No, I’m staying in the City tonight with some friends. I’ll call you in the morning.” I close the phone before she can argue or console me, and to my surprise, Zach stands to confront me.
“Why didn’t you tell your parents the truth?” He’s completely serious.
“Right! Hey Mom, call you back in thirty after my cunnilingus with some guy I met on the train!” I laugh at the idea but Zach is annoyed.
“What I mean is, why can’t you tell your parents that you need some space? That part of having a dream is the living part. No regrets and no expectations.”
Zach clearly has the advantage of being a little rich boy with no problems.
I sigh and then say, “Because what I want is impossible. How do I explain to my parents, the people that support whatever crazy thing I do, that I want a life that’s entirely opposite of theirs?”
“Then let me help you have the life you want. I can get you a job.”
“What? Absolutely not! I don’t need a prince to sweep in and rescue me.” I pull down my skirt, embarrassed that he sees right through me.
“We could help each other. Like Strangers on a Train, literally.”
“Huh? I’m not going to kill your parents! What the fuck is wrong with you?” I frantically pull up my underwear and search for my purse. Zach is hunkered over laughing so hard I honestly think he might choke. He grabs my hand and leads me to the sofa.
“Natalie, ma femme, sit down and listen. Are you against having a conversation? After all we’ve been through in the past three hours?” His eyes are the color of sapphires, and I hate being jealous of a man’s features.
“Actually, I was hoping we could just fuck and have a nice dinner.” I place my hands in my lap and relax.
“Oh, we will.” He smirks.
Zach kisses my forehead. And with that one little gesture, I feel a sense of friendship I have never experienced with a man, especially a man this hot.
“Okay, let’s prioritize. Five-minute convo, a few hours of mind-blowing sex, and then dinner that requires reservations. And I want dessert.” I demand, biting my lip like a tease.
“Perfect plan. Start the clock.” He smiles arrogantly as he places his arm around me. His bare chest is quite distracting, but I will selflessly give him his five minutes before I devour every sculpted contour.
“Go,” I say.
“I have friend that owns an event company. She mainly organizes corporate events and the occasional celebrity party. Molly will love you, and I’m confident you’ll be a great fit for the job. All you have to do is say yes and I can arrange for you to start next week.”
“And what do you want in return?” I say, teasing his nipples with my fingers.
“Obviously, I want to use you however I see fit. The kinkier the better. And frequently.”
“Obviously. And your parents, how do they fit into this job-in-exchange-for-sex plan?”
“Ah, well that’s the hard part. You see, they have high expectations for their only son. With my mom’s health and my dad’s arrogance, they’re looking to me to step up and be in charge, the new face of hope for the company.” Zach frowns at me. “Why are you making that face?”
“I’m sorry, I’m just confused,” I answer.
“You frown when you’re confused? Anyway, my family owns Parker and Parker Pharmaceuticals, you’ve probably heard of it – I’m the second Parker. My dad wants to step down completely and make me CEO. He’s a prick with a sick wife, and none of his miracle drugs can stop it. My father’s image is shattered and he wants me, at twenty-six years old, to run a company I know nothing about.”
Zach’s eyes water – there must be a long history of family turmoil. I place his hand in mine and squeeze it with compassion.
“How can I help?”
Zach smiles, confident with his parental plan of tyranny. “Come with me to meet my mom. She needs a little happiness, and you ignite fire wherever you go.” His voice lowers to a whisper as he says, “She also wants to meet my girlfriend.”
“I understand, but I’m not sure I feel comfortable pretending to be your girlfriend.” I’m not really girlfriend material, and no guy has ever brought me home to their mom – I don’t know why the fuck not!
“You don’t have to pretend, she only wants to see me happy, and you definitely make me happy.”
“Okay, Zach, I can do that for you.”
He leans in to kiss my nose, so sweet and unassuming.
“And there’s the other thing. I don’t want the company. Ever. I have dreams, too.”
“Really? Like what?” I tease.
“Oh! Looks like we’ve passed the five-minute mark. We’ll save dreams and rainbows for our next break.” Zach smiles mischievously and stands up. He unbuckles his pants and lets them fall to the floor. He’s delectably hard beneath his boxer briefs, forcing me to open my mouth in delight. “Now, Ms.? I’m sorry I didn’t catch your full name.” He extends a hand and pulls me up to join him.
“I’m Natalie LeGrange. Nice to meet you Mr. Parker.”
“Yes, very nice. So in order to conduct the most effective interview, you will need to remove your clothing, please.”
Zach takes a step back to access my body. I oblige by removing my skirt, then my shirt, and then placing them on the sofa. Zach shakes his head and licks his lips as I unhook my bra, flinging it at the television.
Zach’s eyes expand in delight as he mutters, “Silver-fucking-dollar nipples.”
Removing my panties and taking a step closer, I ask, “Do you have any questions relevant to the position?”
“Not really, but I would like to evaluate your special skills. How much cock can you handle?” Zach cups my breasts and squeezes gently, releasing a small sigh of pleasure.
“Oddly, this is the exact format of my earlier interview, en français bien sur.” I smile seductively as Zach lowers his briefs to reveal a monster piece of flesh, long, thick and extremely erect. I drop to my knees, prepared and eager for the oral challenge of the decade. I take the tip in my mouth and swirl my tongue around the circumference of his engorged shaft.
“Natalie, you’re hired.”
September 17, 2002
What a beautiful day! I love this city. I love the constant movement. I love the resilient nature of September. I love the fact that I can perform my walk of shame with wrinkled clothes and cheap orange flip-flops and no one seems to care. I love the Village junkie that just whistled at me between puffs of some questionable smoke. I love that I can walk with a goofy smile of delirium and people assume I’m a tourist. I love that I have no idea where I am, but there will always be a Starbucks and some fake handbags directing my path.
Last night with Zach was amazing, clair et simple. He’s one sexy freak with an enormous . . . sexual appetite. Our constant nakedness prevented us from leaving his apartment, so Zach made me waffles with fresh strawberries and a side of whipped, mmmm, delicious whipped cream. My body is sore from the contorting and stretching of certain muscles, and that wooden spoon slapping against my ass didn’t help, but my pain is a glorious reminder of what it feels like to be alive. But mostly, my diaphragm has never hurt so good. We laughed and laughed, and I’m pretty sure I snorted chocolate milk at one point. It was like a slumber party with my best friend, only more orgasmic.
This morning, a woman’s true test of casual sex, Zach surprised me with good news about the job, and a present. He managed to sneak
out and buy me an elegant day planner for my new job, and some cheap flip flops for my aching feet. I mean, holy shit, what girl doesn’t want a present after a night like that?
Every page for the next week has Zach Attack written at various times of the day. He’s sweet, adorable, sexy as shit, and he wants me as much as I want him. Yet, call me jaded, I still have this uncomfortable doubt that he’s not telling me everything.
“Ma’am what can I get you to drink?” says the girl with the purple hair and nose ring. Okay, I’m standing at the register deep in thought, but does she really need to insult me with the word ma’am?
“Oh, sorry, I was distracted by your hair and contempt for humanity. What shade is that exactly?” I frown and she frowns, and I better order before we engage in a full-on sticking-out-the-tongue war. “May I have a grande skinny vanilla latte.” I dig in my clutch . . . lipstick case, train ticket, cell phone, no fucking wallet. Zut!
“That’ll be five twenty-nine.” Oh crap, this is embarrassing. I could just stick out my tongue and dart out the door. I could throw some gift cards in the air and pretend like one of them has my money on it. I could . . . “Ma’am?” Jesus Christ, I’m the same age as you.
“I, uh, don’t have my wallet.” I smile nervously and then hang my head in shame.
“Here, I got it. May I also have a tall iced green tea.” His voice is smooth and precise – like a movie star. I pivot to thank him but my face meets his chest, magnificently broad and deliciously fragrant. I raise my head and gasp at the sight of his dark, intense eyes and his gorgeous smile. He places his hand behind my waist and peels my frozen body away from the counter. “Our drinks will be ready down there.”
“You didn’t have to do that.” I say, admiring his large frame and confident gait.
“I try to help at least one damsel per day – it’s part of the superhero code.” He smiles charmingly.
