by Sylvia Fox
Ayla felt his kisses on the back of her neck between his ragged breaths. Her entire body felt like a raw, open nerve ending. She needed to be very still as she recovered. A trickle of sweat rolled down her left cheek.
A feeling of bliss like she’d never known washed over her.
She turned her head just enough to catch his eye, and both of them broke into silly grins and laughter. He squeezed her hands and eased himself deeply back inside, as far as she could, and felt him throb powerfully. Each time Mick’s thick cock did that, she squirmed and whimpered. From the inside out, he owned her.
She was already hopelessly addicted to his body.
He withdrew and she stretched like a cat and turned, straightening her dress before standing up on tiptoes to kiss the man who’d just gifted her with ecstasy beyond her wildest dreams. The kiss he gave her was rich and full. When it broke, they just stared into one another’s eyes.
Mick leaned down and rested his forehead gently against Ayla’s. “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world, do you know that?” he asked.
Ayla blushed and struggled to meet his gaze. “That…wow. That was…”
Mick finished the sentence for her. “Bloody incredible, by my estimation. I don’t have the words…”
Ayla started to reply, but as her lips began to move, they became aware of voices, people approaching from the direction of the elevators.
Mick reached down and pulled up his briefs and pants, forcing his still-half-hard cock into a position where his arousal wouldn’t be quite so obvious. Ayla picked up her panties and shoved them into the small purse she’d had slung over her shoulder. They were still composing themselves when flashlight beams illuminated the spot where they stood.
“Oh my God! Are you okay?”
The voice belonged to Ayla’s best friend, Tara.
Ayla was struck dumb by surprise. Tara, Natalie, and three members of the hotel’s security team stood staring at Mick and Ayla.
“I’m…” Ayla was panicked.
“You’re under age. Just like your friends.” The oldest of the security guards said, stepping forward. “You can’t be here.”
Ayla look at Mick, then at Tara, and finally at the security man. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…”
Mick looked confused.
“Tara, I’m fine,” she assured her friend, who was eyeing Mick suspiciously.
“Well, we have to go,” Natalie said. “They’re kicking us out. Just kicking us out. We have to go before they change their minds.”
“If you’re caught in the casino, we call the police,” the security captain said. He turned his attention to Mick. “We have some questions for you, if you’ll just come with us.”
“What’s this all about?” Mick asked. “Under age?”
“Don’t worry, stud, she’s eighteen. But whatever her age, and yeah, this is Las Vegas, you still can’t have sex on the roof of the parking structure.”
The word “sex” made Ayla cringe. It made Tara stare in slack-jawed shock. Mick scratched his head and shrugged. “Victimless crime, eh mate?”
A second security guard spoke up. “We can let that go by escorting you off property. You assaulted two of our patrons in Scald, so we need to talk about that.”
“Hush, Bobby,” the captain said, cutting off his junior officer. “You three skedaddle. And don’t come back until you’re twenty-one. This was your one free pass.”
Natalie took Tara’s hand and reached for Ayla’s, pulling her away from Mick. “Let’s go, girl.”
Ayla paused, but saw the wisdom in taking the route that didn’t include getting arrested or having her parents receive a phone call from hotel security. They’d be totally mortified. She looked back at Mick longingly, and he gave her a nod. Fuck, he was handsome.
After just a few steps, Ayla could feel everything Mick had left inside her shifting around, threatening to spill out. She had the most wonderful ache deep inside.
As soon as the elevator doors closed, Tara began to speak so quickly neither Natalie nor Ayla could understand a word.
“SpillthebeansyoubitchwhowasthatwhatdidyoudoohmygodareyoukidingmeIamfreakingouthere!”
Natalie intervened. “T, slow the hell down! Look at her. You can tell what she did just by looking at her! Nobody has a glow like that unless…Well, you know. But anyway, who was he? Some model or something?”
Ayla looked at the floor of the elevator, feeling bashful. “I…I don’t know who he is.”
“What?” Tara and Natalie said in unison. The elevator stopped at their floor of the garage, but Natalie put her thumb on the “close doors” button and held it.
“These weird guys were hitting on me. You two had disappeared, and these guys came out of nowhere and were being really aggressive…”
“He has a friend?” Tara asked. “Hello!”
“No,” Ayla corrected. “Two other guys. And then he stepped in and told me they had put something in my drink. Tried to roofie me, or whatever, you know?”
Natalie nodded.
“He saved me from them, but they were pissed and they both tried to jump him. But he kicked their asses.” Natalie and Tara stood at rapt attention. “Then we wound up on the dance floor, and he started kissing me. And I mean, really kissing me. Next thing I know, we’re up here on the roof, and…”
“What’s his name?” Natalie asked.
“Shit,” Ayla replied. “I have no idea.”
Tara was apoplectic. “What do you mean? You got his number, right?”
“Not exactly,” Ayla confessed.
“I’m totally lost,” Natalie replied. “You just met this guy, who’s, hey, hats off to you, he’s like, mega-hot, but how do you not know his name?”
“It all just, sort of, you know happened? I guess?” Ayla said. She was starting to have regrets. Big ones. As fantastic as the sex was, she couldn’t blame it on being drunk. She hadn’t had that much to drink. Was the whole thing a set up?
And they hadn’t used any protection. How could she be so stupid?
“Shit,” Ayla stated, plainly.
“What?” Tara asked, putting her hand on her best friend’s shoulder.
“I’m not supposed to start for,” Ayla started counting backwards in her head, assisted by her fingers. “Another two weeks, give or take. Fifteen days. I’m right in the middle of my cycle.”
Natalie’s face was ashen. “Yeah, but you used…wait a minute, you didn’t use anything?”
Ayla slowly shook her head.
“There’s no way,” Tara interjected. “My cousin and her husband have been trying, and I mean really trying to have a baby for forever now. Seriously, one time isn’t going to get you preggers. No way.”
“It only takes one time, you idiot,” Natalie said. “Did he like, pull out or anything? He for sure finished inside you?”
Ayla nodded. Her eyes became wet with tears. “Stupid. So, so stupid. Ugh! What was I thinking? Yes, he finished inside me. Like, a lot.”
“Morning after pill,” Natalie said, matter-of-factly. “We’ll go get you one first thing. That’s what it’s for. Everybody makes mistakes.”
Ayla was crying, and both friends embraced her. “One to ten, Ayla, how was he?” Tara asked.
“One million,” Ayla replied.
6
Security escorted Mick Merryweather to an office just off the main casino floor. Once he explained who he was, who he worked for, and what had happened to cause the scuffle, the captain released him without notifying local law enforcement.
On his way out, he paused to ask about the beautiful stranger with whom he’d enjoyed the evening. He could still taste her faintly.
“Those girls were all eighteen. This was a ‘high school graduation party,’ of sorts, I guess. When two of them lost their friend, the one you were with, they asked one of my officers to help them find her. They were so panicked they confessed about being under 21. We reviewed the surveillance and watched the two of you go to the parking garag
e, and we watched you exit out onto the roof. No vehicles left, so we figured you must be in some sort of blind spot. Happens more often than you might think.”
Mick started to ask for a name, any one of their names, but he reconsidered. Eighteen? Thank God she was eighteen, but still. That was the sort of scandal he, and Watterson Gaming, didn’t need.
Better to drop the entire thing. No matter how indescribably good she looked, and felt. He was almost old enough to be her father.
“How old do you think he was?” Tara asked. She seemed more obsessed with the mystery man than even Ayla was, as they lay on the sectional in Ayla’s living room late the next morning.
“I have no idea,” Ayla answered. Maybe thirty?”
“You are so bad! Who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?” Tara teased.
“I think he might be from England or Australia or something. He had a little accent.”
“Stop. Stop it right now. Just how jealous do you want to make me?”
“I know it’s dumb, and I know there’s no way in the world that I’d know yet, but I think I am,” Ayla said. “Pregnant that is. Shit.”
“We’re going to fix that,” Tara reminded her. “Natalie has a friend who has a friend who can get you that pill for free.”
“I don’t want to. I don’t want to ‘fix’ anything,” Ayla insisted. “If I am, I am.”
“Your parents will freak the fuck out,” Tara said, wide-eyed. “You’ll probably have to move in with me or something. If it’s a girl, you have to name her after me. If it’s a boy, I don’t know, name him Scald. Scald Murray.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Ayla replied. “I’m not naming my child ‘Scald’.” Ayla furrowed her brow. “I had a great-uncle in Texas, Grandpa Murray’s brother, he died when I was in elementary school, third grade, I think. His name was Preston. I always liked that name. Preston Murray.”
“That’s not bad,” Tara allowed. “But we can agree on Tara for a girl, right?”
“Whatever,” Ayla laughed.
Tara looked at Ayla, the expression on her face solemn.
“Seriously though. You’re not pregnant. There’s just no way.”
Mick was back to work the next day, reporting to Winston that he ought to avoid Scald. He’d noticed some of the drug-dealing that was destined to get the club raided eventually, and although that alone wasn’t so unusual, he embellished it a bit to make sure he wouldn’t have to return to the club in a professional capacity.
Work and working out kept Mick busy, but he kept finding his mind wandering to the girl in the blue dress. In his spare time, he visited area malls, hoping he might happen upon her, on the off chance she was a local. Where else might young, beautiful women hang out? He’d recognize her angelic face, or her sinful body, anywhere. He just knew it.
He even considered touching base with one of his old intelligence buddies to track her down, but such an allocation of resources would be frowned upon by higher ups and would certainly be looked upon unfavorably by his own superiors.
It seemed she was destined to become a memory; doubtlessly the fondest kind of memory, but a memory, nonetheless.
7
“Come in, sit down for a minute, this won’t take long,” Randy, Ayla’s boss’s boss, said, with a smile. “I know you have to get down to the belt soon to get started.”
Ayla returned his smile with a nervous one of her own. She’d come to work early, as he’d requested, despite being up later than she expected the previous night. The novel she’d been reading, which she only wanted to get deep enough into to get to one of the “steamy” sections, was too good to put down, so she’d finished it after her bath. She was exhausted. But it was Thursday, so she was on the downhill part of the week. One more day and it would be off to Southern California.
“It’s about your attendance,” Randy began. He shuffled some papers on his desk, pulling out one with her name at the top and lines highlighted in different colors; days she’d been late and others she’d left early. “I know you have your son, you know I have three boys of my own, I can sympathize. But I also have people I report to, and work that has to be done every day. And by done, I mean completed. Emergencies are one thing, but when you’re leaving early too often, it stretches everybody else. It puts me in a bind. I want to work with you, to make it as easy as I can for you, heck, for everybody, but when I let you slide, other people think they can slide, and pretty soon half the people on the belt are ducking out early, or trying to. Am I making sense?”
Ayla nodded. Randy had been more than fair with her, and he was making perfect sense.
“Jeff was livid when he came in here after we got finished yesterday. I mean furious. You know he doesn’t like to get his hands dirty, and he had to finish loading your trucks. Save me from having to listen to him bitch and moan anymore, okay?”
Ayla laughed, relieved.
“I don’t want to do any discipline on you, so consider this an unofficial verbal warning. And hopefully you have your childcare situation straightened out?”
“I do,” Ayla confirmed. “I promise. I really, really need this job. I would never do anything to jeopardize it, if I could help it. Thank you, Randy.”
“Thanks for your hard work,” Randy replied. “Now get down there before I have Jeff in here looking for you.”
Ayla’s day went without incident, although Jeff just scowled at her when she got overwhelmed with work, rather than offering any of the support he provided to others doing the exact same job.
Lupe showed up as scheduled, Desiree left for work on time, and between the two of them, they armed Preston with enough Spanish to continue his progress toward becoming bilingual.
Even Teri was on her best behavior, an almost-bearable version that rarely showed up at work.
That evening, after putting Preston to bed, Ayla sprawled out on the sofa next to Desiree to dig into a pint of mint chocolate chip that she’d managed to keep hidden from her son in the back of the freezer.
“Behind the frozen broccoli,” Ayla bragged to Desiree. “Vegetables are like Kryptonite to him. He won’t even touch the bag; he might accidentally absorb something healthy by osmosis.”
Desiree laughed and began to surf through the channels with the television remote.
A commercial ended and went into a teaser for the evening news, and just as Desiree went to check the next channel, Ayla stopped her.
“No, no, no! Don’t turn it! Oh my God!”
Desire dropped the remote onto the ottoman and held up her hands as if she’d been holding a venomous snake. “What, girl?”
Ayla had set her ice cream down and picked up the remote. Her hands were shaking. She pressed the button to rewind seven seconds, then she pushed the pause button. “That’s him. Right there in back. That’s him. Holy shit.”
Desiree studied the image. Two men in suits, stood in front, shaking hands. A young guy she recognized as some sort of local casino executive, the man next to him an older Asian fellow. They stood in front of a Watterson Gaming banner, with a small group, three men and one woman, off to the side, in the background.
Ayla walked over to the television and pointed at the tallest of the group, a rugged, broad-shouldered man with closely-cropped dark hair, just graying at the temples.
“That’s Preston’s dad. I swear. I’d never forget him.”
“Are you sure?” Desiree asked. “I mean, what are the chances?”
“Shh, let me hear what they’re saying,” Ayla insisted.
Nightly news anchor Rikki Randle narrated the clip: “Tonight at eleven, our lead story is the announcement of Watterson Gaming taking their local casino empire overseas. Where and when will their project break ground?”
She went on to discuss an update on the search for a local missing person, an elderly Alzheimer’s patient who had wandered away from his nursing home and disappeared.
Ayla muted the TV.
“I swear on everything, on Preston’s life,
that’s him. That’s Preston’s father. He must work for Watterson. What do I do?”
Ayla had rewound it back and frozen the screen. She got close to the glass, studying it for a clue.
“I don’t know, Ayla, if you’re totally sure,” Desiree started.
“I am!” Ayla insisted.
“Okay, okay, let me finish,” Desiree said. “We have to figure some way to get you to talk to him, I guess? I don’t know. But look at him. He looks like a movie star. He must have a wife and kids somewhere. What do you think he’s going to say if you show up claiming Preston is his kid?”
Desiree joined Ayla right in front of the screen, to get a better look. Ayla was gazing intently at the man in question.
“Shit, Ay, he does look like Preston.”
“I know, right?” Ayla asked, wiping a tear from her cheek.
“I don’t know anybody at Watterson, I mean the place I work is small potatoes next to them, but some of the old-timers where I work retired from bigger casinos and wanted something smaller, slower-paced. Somebody might know who he is. Or know somebody who might know,” Desiree said, rubbing Ayla’s back.
“Let me get my laptop,” Ayla said, leaving the room for a moment and returning with her computer slung under her arm. The two friends sat down on the couch and brought up the Watterson Gaming web site. After doing some digging, they came up with Winston Watterson, the president of the company, as the man who was front and center on the television news story.
They searched for the Watterson board of directors and anyone else they could think of who might have been standing behind Winston, but the only one they found was a woman named Robin Chuang, who was “Director of International Development,” or some such. The mystery man remained a cipher.
It wasn’t long before the evening news aired, and the lead story, indeed, involved Watterson Gaming’s announcement that they were entering the lucrative Asian market, beginning in Macau.
Winston Watterson made a brief statement, but Ayla heard none of it. She was focused on the man over Winton’s right shoulder in the black suit. He was handsome and intense, eyes sweeping from side to side.
