by Paige North
“Jordyn,” I say. She’s incredible. More beautiful than anything I’ve seen in my life. “Um, yes, I'm fine. You look nice.” I lean in and kiss her cheek, then take her hand and kiss that as well. She’s so lovely that I don’t want to mess anything up.
She squeezes my hand; neither of us lets go. “You ready to do this?”
“Let’s go,” I say.
The ballroom of the Waldorf-Astoria is ornate with gold fixtures and decadent chandeliers. When I walk in with Jordyn on my arm, I feel like nothing can touch me. With this woman by my side, I can do anything.
That is, until I see Ted Kendrick and Stanley Washington—and their spouses—over by the bar. My heart starts clunking in my chest.
I point them out to Jordyn. “Don’t worry,” she tells me confidently. “We’ll get them.”
I don’t know what makes her so confident. I think because she just doesn’t understand how hard it will be to convince these guys to work with me. Both men were raised on the philosophy of putting in your dues before ever taking a position of true power within a company. The old geezers were in their mid-forties before they took top positions in their company, so they look at me, a guy in his mid-twenties, and think I’m some immature punk. Tonight I have to convince them otherwise—possibly with Jordyn’s help.
I approach them to say hello and make introductions. The wives look Jordyn up and down like they’re inspecting a piece of vulgar art. It makes me want to walk away immediately, it’s so disrespectful. But I go ahead with the pleasantries.
“How nice that you chose to support such a worthy cause,” Mr. Washington says.
“Of course,” I say. “Heart disease is something that affects so many of us, unfortunately.”
“We appreciate your support,” Mrs. Washington says. “And Jordyn, is it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You are Miles’s…significant other?”
Jordyn keeps a tight smile when she says, “Yes. Very significant.”
“I’d forget my head if it weren’t for Jordyn,” I joke, so corny and not even remotely true.
They ask some of the usual questions, which I’ve always found intrusive, despite my actual arrangement with Jordyn—how did we meet, how long have we been together—but then Mrs. Kendrick takes it a step further and says, “So when do you plan on getting engaged?” I just about choke on my champagne. I thought her generation was a bit more discreet than that, but I guess not.
“First Miles has to renew my contract,” Jordyn jokes, and I nearly spit out my drink.
But actually she gets a laugh from the old cranks. Ms. Kendrick nods appreciatively at Jordyn. “That’s right, you make sure to get what’s coming to you, dear,” the older woman says, winking.
“So what table are we at?” I ask, trying to distract before this insanity devolves any further.
“Should be table four, same as you,” Mr. Washington says. “Shall we?”
We all smoothly move to our table, my hand resting on Jordyn’s back. When we take our seats all I can do is smile at her, mesmerized. She’s stunning tonight, more than ever. Even I get intimidated by these people yet Jordyn acts like they’re just some random couples in a café.
“How am I doing?” she asks, leaning in close.
“You’re perfect,” I say. “Nice save on the engagement question.”
She waves her hand. Leaning in even closer so that I can wrap my warm around her shoulder, she says, “A bit nosey of her.”
“You think?” I say, then kiss her nose. She pulls back the tiniest bit, surprised. But then she relaxes, and smiles.
“I better get back to it,” she says.
She’s sitting next to Mr. Kendrick while I have Mr. Washington on my other side.
“Now were you born and raised here in New York?” Jordyn asks him.
“Upper East Side,” he says proudly. “I’ve been here my whole life.”
“He doesn’t know what the city is like below Fifty-Ninth Street,” his wife says, leaning around him.
“You know, Miles and I had our very first date on the Upper East Side,” she tells them. “At Truffle.”
“Oh, that place is fabulous,” Mrs. Kendrick says. “And that’s a good first date. He must be a romantic.”
“He can be,” Jordyn says, eyeing me. “When I can get him away from the office. But I bet you know what that’s like.” She looks to the wives, who nod knowingly.
“Miles, dear, are you a member of the Union Club?” Mrs. Washington asks me.
“No, I’m not,” I say.
“It takes a lot more than one generation of money to be a member of the Union Club, honey,” Mr. Washington tells his wife. “You have to know people.”
“Well, he knows you,” she says as Mr. Washington—and I—shift uncomfortably. “I only bring it up because Ted does lots of work lunches and dinners and it’s fun for me to meet him there for a drink or dessert afterward. It’s just around the corner from us.”
Our salads are served which thankfully cuts off any more talk of the club. My brother Jackson loves flaunting that he’s a member of the Algonquin Club up in Boston but truthfully it’s all so stuffy that I think I’d choke as soon as I walked in the door. But maybe I should consider it, if I could make connections with men like this.
Dinner sails by, thanks to Jordyn keeping the conversations light but interesting. She kindly asks about Mrs. Kendrick’s involvement with the foundation and when Jordyn talks about her journalism career—Mrs. Kendrick tells her that she used to work in publishing. “Book publishing,” she says, “but I know other people in newspapers. Ted, who do we know at the Times?”
At this, Jordyn reaches under the table and clasps my hand. I squeeze her back, loving how thrilled she is. But before it can go much further for her (Mrs. Kendrick promises to connect Jordyn with her friend at the paper: “Just an email introduction but you never know”), Jordyn turns the attention back to me and says to the couples, “Hey, now. Don’t worry too much about me. I’m only here for Miles and he’s only here for you gentlemen.”
And then it happens over dessert. When the ladies get up to use the powder room, Mr. Kendrick moves a seat over and sits next to me and he and Mr. Washington ask me lots of questions about my plans for the acquisition, how I see the long term affects, and what the true cost benefits will be.
I answer them honestly and with authority. By the time the ladies get back, I’ve gotten a gentleman’s agreement that come Monday morning we’ll all move forward together on the deal.
My head is spinning. I got them to agree. Not just that, but I got them to see that they could trust me, but that I’m not just some entitled rich kid who got this job for doing nothing.
“You look happy,” Jordyn whispers when she sits back down.
“Because of you,” I say, kissing her cheek. “Come on, let’s dance.”
Let me say that I am not a dancer. When would I ever? And why? But with Jordyn, it seems like the best thing to do in the moment.
Jordyn
I can’t believe Miles Croft is spinning me around the dance floor. I’m laughing, it’s so absurd.
“I hope it’s not my moves you’re laughing at,” he says.
“No, it’s just you,” I say. His hand is resting on the patch of bare skin where the cutout of my dress is. He holds my hand firmly, not aggressively but slightly possessive, and I have to admit I like it. I hold his tight right back. “What happened to your no PDA rule, huh? You kissed me. Twice.”
He looks off toward the band onstage. “I was swept up in your act. Just playing along, Thompson.”
I could be hurt by this, brushing me off like it’s a joke. But the way he’s holding me, even the way he’s not looking at me, I can tell. And I’m not going to let him get away with it.
“You know Miles, it’s okay to have fun,” I say. “It’s even okay to like me a little. I am very likeable, as you may have noticed.”
His smile returns and he looks down at me, his
eyes so warm they make me melt a little. “I’ve noticed, Jordyn,” he says. He pulls me closer and, as if the dinner table weren’t enough, he kisses me right there on the dance floor where anyone can see. If he wants to look like he has a serious girlfriend, word will spread after tonight for sure.
A slow song comes on, a woman singing soulfully with piano accompaniment, and we dance in rhythm, my hand at the back of his neck playing with his hair. Everything falls away. It’s just us, the sound of the music, the feel his body so close to mine. I rest my head on his shoulder and feel like I could stay here forever.
As the song ends, Miles says, “Want to get out of here?” I nod yes, feeling like I’m coming out of a trance that I don’t want broken.
He takes my hand and guides me across the ballroom. We stop at the table to get my little beaded bag.
“Miles, I hope you’re taking this girl someplace more romantic,” Mrs. Washington says, her eyes twinkling.
“A girl in love deserves romance,” Mrs. Kendrick says.
I want to die at both comments. Why do older people feel like it’s okay to say whatever is on their minds, no matter how embarrassing?
The men get up to shake Miles’s hand goodbye.
“We’ll be in touch first thing on Monday,” Mr. Kendrick says.
“I look forward to it,” Miles says. “And I appreciate the opportunity. I know we’re going to make great things happen.”
“As long as you’ve got this woman by your side, I don’t have to worry about you,” Mr. Washington says.
I’m blushing madly as we leave. When we get into the limo, Miles and I look at each other…and fall apart laughing.
“I can’t believe those ladies,” he says. “Christ, they don’t know the word awkward, do they?”
“Oh, who cares about them,” I say. “You got the deal! Those old fuddies are going to work with you, Miles! You did it!”
“Thanks to you,” he says. “Seriously, Jordyn. This never would have turned out like this if it weren’t for you. It was all your idea to come here and you dazzled them in there. All of them.”
“Just doing my job, boss.”
“Don’t,” he says, looking down at my hands. “Don’t say it like that. Or call me that.”
“Sorry,” I say.
“It’s okay,” he says. “It’s just…”
It’s just what? I think. What’s holding Miles back? I can tell there’s something, something more than him just being a steely businessman. He’s conflicted by something, and I think that something is me.
“You okay?” I ask when he doesn’t say more.
He looks into my eyes and touches me lightly. “Let me take you somewhere. No work. No act. Let’s just forget all this and be us. What do you say?”
I scoot closer and ask, “What, like a date?”
Miles sit back, turning his eyes away from me. He doesn’t want it to be a date, clearly. He confirms that when he says, “It’s a celebration. Of tonight and all the nights before.” He forces a smile.
But I’m not going to let his stiff act get me down. I’m wearing a dress worth more than six months’ rent, I’m in a limo with a gorgeous, powerful guy who, by the way, I just helped land the deal of his career. I’m living a kind of fantasy life that isn’t real and isn’t going to last, so I might as well enjoy it all while I can.
Besides, I like being with Miles, even when he’s being so aloof.
“Tonight has already been amazing,” I say. “Who would have thought things would go so well after that first time you took me out to dinner the day you fired me? You totally freaked me out with your little proposal.”
“Do you regret saying yes?” he asks.
“Not at all. Not for a second.”
Miles directs the driver to take us to a little French dessert place he tells me he’s been wanting to try but hasn’t had the time.
“Does work keep you from doing many things you want to do?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“No, I mean, I haven’t known about this place long,” he says, stumbling a bit.
Inside the bistro it’s dark with rich red and gold décor. Miles asks for one of the curved booths in the corner. We order chocolate cherry cake and champagne.
“Tell me about your writing,” he says, surprising me a little.
“Like, what kind of reporting do I want to do?” I ask. “I figure I’ll hopefully start out—when I do finally start—working as an assignment editor. You know, covering general local happenings. But what I really want to cover is the environment. Like, busting big oil companies for unsafe practices.” I shrug, knowing it might all be a pipe dream. The field is competitive, not to mention shrinking. “But we’ll see.”
“Why do you say it like that? You’ll do it if you want to.”
I turn and look at Miles. “Have you ever tried to do something that you just couldn’t do? Or get?”
“You think I get everything I want.”
“Well, don’t you?”
“No,” he says, bristling.
“Name one thing you didn’t get that you wanted.”
“My father’s company,” he says quickly, as if without thought.
I’m confused. “Aren’t you the head of it already?”
“No. Just here in New York.”
“Right,” I say, because that’s just like him. He has so much but it’s not enough. “You always want more, don’t you?”
Miles’s hand reaches for my thigh. His touch sends a shock through my body.
“Yes,” he says, which immediately gets me feeling aroused. A word and a touch, and he’s got me. But Miles Croft wouldn’t stop there. No way.
He pushes aside the fabric of my dress where the slit is and kneads my skin. My leg shifts open the slightest bit. He’s already getting me wet.
“I always want more, but especially when I’m around you,” he says.
My eyes dart around the restaurant, looking to see if anyone is watching. I clasp his wrist and, realizing no one can see, I move his hand further up my thigh.
“Do you think you’re going to get what you want with me tonight?” I ask him.
“No,” he says, as my heart races. His hand moves a little further up my thigh making my pussy clench with want. “I know I am.”
Miles leans in toward me and pauses halfway. That tease. He knows I’ll come to him, and I do. When our lips touch it’s a soft, delicate kiss. When his hand goes higher my breath catches and our kiss stalls. I rest my forehead to his and put my hand back on top of his. “Stop,” I say, my head spinning. “Someone will see.”
“See what?” He digs his fingers into my thigh.
“Your hand up my dress. Come on, Mr. Croft.” I pull away from him. He can’t make me this crazy in this booth “You’re changing. You’re not supposed to like being affectionate in public.”
The truth is, he could finger fuck me right here at the table and maybe I wouldn’t care who saw. But what if someone who knew Mr. Kendrick and Mr. Washington spotted us? They definitely wouldn’t be interested in dealing with a man who acted lewd in public.
Miles seems to agree. “Okay then,” he says. “Let’s not be in public anymore. Let’s get out of here.”
Miles
As soon as the door to the limousine shuts we’re all over each other. I press her up in the corner and practically cover her body with mine. Running my hand up her thigh I say, “Is this enough privacy for you?”
She can only nod yes.
“Now I can finish what I started.”
When I push up her dress and reach up to her crotch, I find that she’s not wearing any panties. Thank god I didn’t know earlier or else I’d never have been able to concentrate at the event.
The feeling of slipping my finger into her pussy will never get old. The way she tilts her pelvis up on my hand, wanting more of me inside her, makes my dick strain and pulse in my pants. I push my finger up to the knuckle and stay there inside her, moving and teasing her more. Her head falls b
ack against the seat and I pump my finger in and out of her wet little pussy that I love so much, getting off on how crazy my one finger can make her.
Jordyn lets out little moans and I can tell she’s trying to keep quiet despite the privacy window being down; the driver won’t hear a thing.
I look out the window to see where we are, how much time we have. Luckily traffic is a bitch; I have some time before we get back to the apartment, where I plan to ravish her entire body.
“Pull down your dress and give me one of those tits,” I tell her.
She tugs down the top of her dress and pulls one of her perfect tits out. She holds it in her hand as I move my mouth to it. I suck on her nipple while still working her pussy.
“God, Miles,” she breaths. “You’re making me crazy.”
I lap at her pink little nipple and circle the hard nib of her clit. She’s hugging my head to her chest and the second I pull my mouth away her lips are on me, her tongue taking me in. She is so fucking hot, the slight taste of chocolate still on her from dessert that I could eat her up for hours. When she moans into my mouth I slip another finger inside her.
Her head falls back again, eyes closed to the pleasure I’m giving her.
“The things I’m going to do to you when I get you home,” I say.
“Tell me.” Her eyes stay closed, head back on the seat.
Teasing her clit before fucking her hole again with my finger, I say, “My mouth is going to kiss and lick every inch of you. Especially here.” I give extra attention to her cunt to show my point.
The whimper she gives tells me she understands. “Oh, shit,” she murmurs.
“After you come here in my car, you’re going to come on my mouth. I’m going to lick up this pussy of yours until you can’t see straight. Then I’m going fuck you, Jordyn.” I pump my fingers in her, going faster and harder. “I’m going to fuck you every which way. And then I’m going to come all over your tits. I’ll wash you clean. I’ll wash your whole body in the shower. I’ll get on my knees to make sure you’re clean. Would you like that?”
