by Natalie Wild
Maria sniffed, and Mia imagined her mother’s plan to hang with Beyoncé and Jay-Z had been snuffed out. Queen B and Jay didn’t hang out on fishing boats. Still, Maria was game.
“Yes, we can do that. I will size him up.” She wagged a finger at Mia. “Just because he is rich, he won’t impress me.”
“I know,” Mia said. “Don’t you always tell me I need to find a real man? That guys like Jeff are too childish, and not going anywhere?”
“Aye, you’re right.”
“I tell you, Mom, Blaine Daniels is someone who can take you places.”
*
To Mia’s surprise, Blaine seemed thrilled at the idea of entertaining her mother. She’d arrived at his apartment with a speech planned, as if she were running for some sort of election. Blaine, however, seemed to think it made total sense.
“I put myself in her shoes,” he said. “You’re an adult, of course, so you can do what you want. But if my daughter was going away for a month with some guy, I’d want to at least meet him.”
Mia hugged him from behind as he chopped vegetables for the soup he was making. “Thank you. That makes me happy. You’re right. I mean, I’m coming regardless. But it will be nice to have her blessing.”
“What about your dad?”
Mia shrugged. “My mom rules the roost. Daddy pretty much goes along with whatever she says.”
Blaine set down the knife and turned around. He rubbed Mia’s back and her bottom through her jeans. “He just does what she says, huh?”
Mia nodded and pressed her breasts against his chest. “I know that voice. Something I said got your blood pumping.” She slid her hand to the crotch of his jeans. She felt him, hard through the denim.
“You’re getting to know me so well,” he said. “How about you tell me what to do, and I’ll listen?”
She pulled back and laughed. “You mean, tell you step by step?”
He nodded.
“I can’t…I’ll be too embarrassed.”
He squeezed her bottom with both hands. “Baby, I don’t think there’s anything left to be embarrassed about.”
“Okay,” she said, in an effort to humor him. She stepped away. “Take off your clothes.” She felt ridiculous, like a game show host.
Blaine obliged with sweet seriousness. It wasn’t gratuitous, like some kind of strip tease. If he’d done that, she would have cracked up for sure. He just watched her while he undressed, slowly but steadily, like a creek retreating at low tide.
Mia realized she’d never really looked at Blaine when he was naked. Or at any man, really. Of course she’d seen his naked body in segments, but usually she was caught up in the rush of stripping him down so she could take him into her, or he was in control and the focus was on her body. There was something vulnerable in him standing before her naked as the day he was born. He tipped his head, as if asking for her approval.
She smiled it. He wasn’t just handsome, he was beautiful in the way a roman statue or a sketch by da Vinci was beautiful. She moved from his tightly muscled legs to his groin. His hard manhood commanded much of her attention, but she still had the wherewithal to notice the ridges and dips of his chiseled lower abdomen. His chest and arms were picture perfect, not too heavily muscular. No one would mistake Blaine for a New Jersey gym rat. Older model Abercrombie model, possibly, but beefcake on steroids, nope. His broad shoulders set off his narrow waist. And of course, atop everything, his strong-jawed but sensitive face. His blue eyes and unruly dark hair.
Mia realized she was holding her breath. “You’re something else,” she whispered.
“What now?” he asked.
“Come to me,” she said. He obeyed. “Kiss me,” she said, and he did as she asked.
Mia found she soon lost most of her discomfort with being in control. She instructed Blaine on how, where and when to touch her. She found a voice for words she didn’t know she could utter. Blaine started off at her neck, at her request. He removed her tank top, and then her bra, and suckled both of her breasts. She asked him to suck harder, and then bade him to back off.
“Take off my jeans,” she said.
He unbuttoned her jeans and slid them over her bottom. He knelt before her, a knight errant to his queen, and helped her step out of them. “Come back up here,” she said. He’d almost gotten halfway when she put a hand on his head.
“I want your mouth on me,” she said.
He grinned up at her, as she’d guess he would. “That’s not specific enough.”
“I need your tongue on my pussy.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Because it feels so good, and makes me so wet.”
“Whatever you want.” She leaned back against the counter. She used her foot to slide one of the cabinet drawers out. She rested her foot on it, both to give him room and to support herself as her body gave in to his attention.
She looked down at the top of his head. Her hips seemed to have a life of their own. They gently moved with the rhythm of his stroking tongue. Her wetness let him easily insert one finger, and then two, inside her. She knew she was going to come, but she wasn’t ready. She pushed him away.
“Now you stand still,” she said.
“Yes ma’am.”
It was her turn to kneel before him, and as she naturally preferred to let him have control, she enjoyed the balance between control and submission. She took his cock into her mouth. He was so large that she couldn’t get even a third of the way down its length, so she made up for it by stroking him with her hands. She cupped his balls and gently stroked the skin behind them.
He groaned. “Oh, yeah. That’s just right. I can’t believe you can touch all of me at once. No one has ever done—” She shut him up by running her tongue around the tip of his cock. “That’s it,” he said.
“What?” she asked as he pulled her to her feet.
“I’m running this show again.” He lifted her up onto the counter and pushed her legs apart. He fingered her, urgently, as if he needed to make sure she was ready for him in that instant. “I want you to come,” he said. “But I can’t hold out much longer.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I bought something for you…I wanted to talk to you about it first, but—“
“What is it?” Whatever it was, he’d better hurry up.
He trotted to his bedroom and returned with what appeared to be some kind of pink cylinder. “Is that a—“
He answered her question by turning on the vibrator. “I’m going to hold it, here, on your clit. Okay, baby?”
She nodded. Her friends all used vibrators, but Mia had always been too embarrassed to buy one. Blaine grabbed a stepstool and stood on it, so he was perfectly positioned to screw Mia on his kitchen counter. “This might shock you…” He placed the buzzing cylinder against her clit, and at the same time slid his rock hard cock into her.
Mia had never experienced anything like it. Her excitement level shot through the roof in seconds. Blaine thrust into her as she felt her climax coming on. She came in two hard spurts, and to her mortification, she wet herself some. Blaine must have seen it, because he said, “You came that hard, huh?” He held her thighs and went deep. “Came so hard you lost control?”
She nodded and whimpered. “I’m sorry.”
“Naughty girl,” he said. He pulled his cock out of her. “Jerk me till I come, for being so naughty.”
She rubbed his cock, and felt it spasm in her hands. He came in a stream on her flat belly.
He backed away, and for a moment Mia thought he was truly upset with her. He leaned against the refrigerator on the other side of the kitchen, panting. She looked at the ceiling, her mortification building, until she felt a soft towel on her belly. He pulled her into a sitting position and then lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around him. “I didn’t want to squash you on that hard counter,” he said.
Mia breathed a sigh of relief. Someday, hopefully, she’d convince herself that Blaine really wanted her. She’d stop worrying, and let this wo
nderful new love be her reality.
*
Blaine pulled out all the stops for Maria Tennyson. He’d never had much trouble charming women, but he’d never tried to charm an overprotective Cuban mother, either. He asked Mia for a few recipes for appetizers and whipped up three different delicacies, one beef, one pork and one vegetarian. He laid them out on platters on the boat’s removable table. He’d last used the table to debone fish, but no matter. With some effort it looked elegant enough.
He bought Mia’s favorite chardonnay and a bottle of gin for Maria. He’d been taken aback by Mia’s claim that her mother only drank hard liquor. It didn’t mesh with his mental picture of straight-laced, pious, middle-aged Catholic woman.
“Catholics don’t’ care about drinking,” said Mia. “We just go to confession and all is well.”
So Blaine sliced limes and set out a bottle of tonic beside the gin. He made himself a drink while he waited. As the minutes ticked by, he felt more and more nervous about meeting Mia’s mom.
They appeared on the dock promptly at 6pm. Maria followed her daughter. They were images in the same mirror, Maria’s had just faded a bit. Same dark hair and big brown eyes and long legs. Blaine’s father had once told him that you should always check out a woman’s mother if you want to see what you’re getting yourself into for the long run. Maria Perez Tennyson had set the bar pretty high.
Mia introduced them and Blaine helped Maria onto the boat. Her dark eyes darted over the drinks and food. He’d put away all of his fishing paraphernalia, so the Wanderlust really just looked like a big white boat. Nothing particularly special, if you didn’t know anything about fishing.
“Which caterer did you use?” asked Maria. She selected one of the pork appetizers. “Havana Winds does such nice platters.”
“I didn’t use a caterer,” Blaine said. “I made them.”
“Blaine is a great cook,” said Mia.
Maria arched one dark brow, but she took a bite. Her eyes widened for a moment before she resumed her stern expression. “Not bad. Tasty. My grandmother made these.”
“Thank you,” Blaine said. “Would you like a gin and tonic?”
Maria nodded. Blaine met Mia’s eyes, and she must have sensed his panic, because she smiled reassurance.
He dolled out Maria’s gin and tonic. As he poured, he wondered if he should go light on the liquor or make it stiff. He wasn’t sure which angle would benefit him more: a sober, thoughtful Maria, or a drunk, giggling one.
In the end he chose a middle ground. Maria sipped her drink and asked him polite and not too personal questions. He responded honestly, and when Mia slipped her arm around his waist, he was sure he was winning Maria over.
“So why is a man like you, wealthy and handsome, why are you not married? Why don’t you have children?” Maria seemed to have dispensed with not-too-personal.
Blaine’s confidence deflated like a balloon with a slow leak. He looked down at Mia, who was grimacing at her mother’s tactlessness. Maybe I should have gone light on the gin, Blaine thought. Now she wants all the dirty details.
He cleared his throat, and decided to embrace his new open book policy. “I was married. Well, actually, I’ve been married twice.” Maria’s eyes widened and Blaine would almost see the Hail Mary running through her head.
“Neither situation worked out. I’d like to have children…” Mia was now watching him as intently as her mother. “If the right situation came along. I’d like nothing more than to be a father. But I won’t introduce children into any situation that’s not a stable, traditional family.”
Maria nodded. “Hmm. That’s good to hear. All these rich men—like these rappers, with their children all over the place. It’s not good. Like that man—what’s his name? Puff Diddy. Or is it Puffy Daddy?”
Mia giggled into her hand, and Blaine himself almost burst out laughing at the comparison between himself, a retired software nerd, and Sean Combs, entertainment mogul.
“I’m no Puff Diddy,” he said.
“Good.” Maria lifted her glass in a toast. “Here’s to traditional families.”
“Agreed,” said Blaine. He winked at Mia over the edge of his glass. “So tell me something about yourself, Maria. Your family back in Cuba?”
Maria launched into the tale of how her family had fled Castro’s Cuba in the 1950s. Blaine was generally interested, and although he was sure Mia had heard the story a million times, she snuggled into his arm and listened to her mom. She even added a few tidbits about various aunts and uncles and cousins. By the time Maria finished, the sun was going down and the food was all eaten. There was still plenty of gin left, but Maria’s wobbly steps and rampant giggling let him know she didn’t need any more.
Mia whispered in his ear as her mom donned her sweater. “Good job, babe.”
“You think she likes me?”
“She hasn’t insulted you, so she must.” Mia stood on tiptoe to kiss him.
“Come now, Mimi,” Maria said. “It’s getting late.”
Mia stepped onto the dock. Blaine took Maria’s hand to help her over the boat’s railing. She placed one hand on his cheek. “I see how happy my daughter is. And I see it in your face, too. Both people have to be happy for it to last.”
“Thank you,” he said.
Maria stepped onto the dock. “Now you two have fun in St. John. I will talk to your father about it, Mimi. Get it all sorted out.”
“Mom, thank you!” Mia kissed her mother’s cheek.
Maria wagged a finger at Blaine. “You take care of her.” She winked. “And remember to bring me a present.”
*
Mia had never packed for a month long trip, and when she added the fact that she and Blaine were supposed to leave in four days, her stress level went through the roof. She pretty much transferred her entire closet onto her bed and her dresser, so she could see everything laid out. The first night, it was so chaotic that she decided to sleep on the couch. Blaine told her she was being silly and she should stay at his place, but Mia thought it made sense to spend her last few nights alone. After all, she’d be sleeping with Blaine for the next roughly fifty nights. Not that she minded, but no matter how quickly she was falling in love with him, the idea of such proximity to anyone for that long was intimidating.
Fortunately, since Mia had lived in Florida her entire life, she had an arsenal of tropical island friendly clothes. Bikinis, sundresses, shorts and cute tops, beach cover ups, light weight pajamas and multiple pairs of sandals and flip flops… she had all that covered. To her chagrin, however, Blaine wanted her to bring a couple more formal dresses. She hung her few choices on the bathroom door and grimaced. The dresses, three black ones and a red one, were from her sorority days at Florida State. Cute for a college girl, but nowhere near sophisticated enough for an island soiree with a bunch of gazillionaires. She called Blaine.
“I have everything, except the formal stuff,” she said. “How formal are we talking?”
She could hear him shuffling things around in the background and smiled. He was probably messing around on the boat. “Pretty formal,” he said. “But it’s the Caribbean, so keep that in mind.”
“What does that mean?” Mia had been on one cruise to the Bahamas. She doubted Blaine’s St. John crew would have the same stylistic appetites as the American tourists she’d rubbed elbows with at Atlantis.
“It means… I don’t know. Something light. Colorful?” A hammer against something, and then he said, “I know it when I see it.”
“You’re going to have to come with me.”
“Shopping?” He sounded as if she’d just asked him to attend a funeral for her pet goldfish.
“Yes,” she said. “Shopping. It won’t be that bad. We’ll go to Bloomingdales. They have everything there.”
“Okay,” he said. “Will it take hours and hours?”
She laughed. “First of all, no. I’m a pretty decisive shopper. Second of all, like I have time to spend hours and hours? I h
ave to get all this crap packed up by like tomorrow so I can actually move around my apartment.”
Blaine laughed and said he’d pick her up in an hour. When they arrived at Bloomingdales, one of Mia’s favorite places in the world, she put on her shopping blinders and made a straight beeline for the formal section. If she got sucked into makeup, or handbags, or shoes, they really would be here for hours. Plus, she was a girl on a teacher’s salary. She’d learned to focus when she shopped.
She pulled a few likely dresses from the racks. Blaine sat in a chair outside the dressing room and read the Wall Street Journal online. Mia tried on a few things that were definite no’s, showed him a couple she felt wishy-washy about, and then hit the jackpot with a pretty sky blue beaded dress. It was tight, but came to just below her knee, so it felt elegant. She didn’t want to be trying too hard. She had a pair of gold heels that would match it perfectly. Best of all, it was on the sale rack.
She cat-walked the waiting area outside the dressing rooms for Blaine. A couple other bored husbands and boyfriends sat in the chairs around him, and she couldn’t help but notice their appreciative glances.
“Gorgeous, babe,” said Blaine. “Maybe one more, and you’ll be good to go.”
She scowled. “This was the last one. I don’t like any of the others that much.”
Blaine stood up. “I thought I saw something over here…”
She followed him. “What, are you the fashion expert now?”
“Haha, hardly. But it just screamed St. John to me.” He circled the racks of clothes. “Oh—here it is.”
He held up a stunning floor length gown. It was strapless, with an empire waist, and a long flowing silk skirt. The bodice started out white and spread to a rainbow of colors at the hem. Mia raised her eyebrows. “It’s gorgeous… but…” She glanced at the tag. The dress was $2,500. “A bit out of my price range.”
“Try it on,” he said.
She shrugged and took the dress from him. When she put it on in the dressing room, she almost gasped at her own reflection. It fit her like it had been hand tailored. The tight bodice tastefully showed off her breasts, and the free flowing skirt clung to her bottom just enough. She walked out of the dressing room.
