by Brit Ryder
“Emery, you need to focus right now. I see that faraway look in your eye,” Carl says. I take an extra second to erase Lily’s voice from my mind and rejoin the conversation. Technically, not a conversation, more of a lecture.
“I’m here. Just a lot on my mind because we have so much going on between court tomorrow and the fire earlier this week.” I always say “we” even though we both know I mean “me.” It makes him feel like he’s a part of everything that comes through these offices. “Can we just get Jeff to walk the new inspectors through the Compass building this afternoon? He’s more than qualified and I can’t have a late night. Not today.”
“Hot date?” Carl jokes. I almost choke on my coffee. If he only knew how hot.
“Just a lot going on.” I avoid eye contact, suddenly finding interest in a chip in the corner of his old, wooden desk. I peel a tiny splinter off, needing something to do to settle my nerves.
“Okay, I’ll get Jeff to take your babysitting job this afternoon. I want you to study your notes, prepare yourself. Go home after lunch. Get a good night’s rest. Tomorrow is going to be a crazy day.”
I’m stoked I get time before my date, but I rein in my excitement and give him a nod instead. “That would be great. Thanks.”
We put our heads together over my latest report. The fire this week was deliberately set, but the people who did it knew what they were doing and covered their tracks well. We only found traces of an accelerant that should have burned up, but a piece of roof caved in, preserving a tiny piece of foam soaked in turpentine. We got lucky that it didn’t get scorched. Honestly, I don’t know how it survived. Without that piece of evidence, this investigation would have dragged on. We finalize our report, citing arson as the cause. He calls in his assistant to take care of getting our report into the right hands. I look at the clock. High noon.
“Let’s grab a burger. I’m starving,” Carl says.
Not my idea of how I want to spend my lunch, but I agree because I’m hungry, too, and he is giving me the afternoon off. Sounds like an even trade. We hit the diner at the corner and instead of waiting for a table, we head to the counter bar. The waitress zips over to us with glasses of water, asking if we know what we want. We don’t even bother with a menu and tell her cheeseburgers with fries. She’s the kind who doesn’t write down our order, but recites it perfectly back to us, all the while pouring coffee for the guy sitting next to me. I nod at her pouring the coffee, signaling I want a cup, too. She reaches back for an empty cup and pours it once his cup is full. Then she is off to yell our order to the fry cook, standing on her toes, stretching to make sure the cook hears her. I admire the flexed muscles of her calves and the small pinch of her waist. Her red and white apron is stained with the history of her day, perhaps her week.
Carl reaches for an abandoned sports section of today’s paper while I sip my coffee. There is a mirror in front of us and I study myself over the rim of my mug. I’ve been called handsome more times than beautiful. I wonder what Lily thinks of me. She’s seen a picture of me, but that was before my haircut. The sides are very short, while the top is still kind of long. I throw product into it every morning, giving it that messy, sexy look. Even with as much time as I spend on my hair, I get the most compliments on my eyes. They are light gray. Not blue, not brown, just solid gray. My grandfather had the same look. Carl returns the paper to the empty seat next to him and turns his attention to me.
“So, what’s going on this afternoon? It seems like you are anxious to get out of here.”
Busted. I turn to him and give him my signature playful grin.
“I have a date this afternoon. It’s early, so I need to get out on time.” I might as well be honest. Carl knows I give my job most of my attention.
“Yeah, I don’t hear much about your dates. Do you go out a lot? I mean, you can’t tell me that the only thing you do is work. There has to be somebody special in your life, right?” I shrug like it’s no big deal. “Do you think you will ever get married?” We aren’t really close and I bristle when he asks.
“I don’t think I’m the marrying kind.” I casually take another sip of coffee, not wanting to explain myself.
“Come on. You’ve done nothing but work since you graduated from the academy. Wait. Didn’t you have a girlfriend for a long time? What ever happened to her?” He’s not going to let it go. I sigh.
“We weren’t right for each other.” That covers just about everything from normal habits to sexual desires. She didn’t like my messiness and I didn’t like her hovering over me every time I put something in the wrong place, especially my clothes. She wanted sweet and romantic, and I wanted somebody who didn’t need to be wooed with flowers and chocolate. At first, our sex life was vanilla and simple, but the minute I whipped out a dildo, she panicked. I wanted to convince her, tried a few times, but her interest in getting fucked with it was zero. I knew then that it wasn’t going to work. I kept her around for all of the wrong reasons. I still feel bad about that.
“You are thirty-five now, right?” he asks. I nod, trying hard not to roll my eyes at the fatherly lecture I’m about to receive. “Do you have the desire to have kids? A family? I know it’s hard to find somebody, but it’s worth it in the long run.” This from a man who has five kids, a wife of twenty years, and a girlfriend or two. I desperately want to point out the hypocrisy, but I wisely keep quiet.
“I’ve never been one to believe in happily ever after. I’m sure at some point I will want that, but right now I’m going to focus on work and still have fun. Kids and a wife are such a huge responsibility, and right now, I like coming and going as I please.” The trial and Lily. That’s all I want to think about.
Thankfully, the efficient waitress shows up with hot food and we dig in, forcing an end to this conversation. I glance at the clock on the wall. Four more hours. My pussy tenses up thinking about my afternoon. I spread my legs further apart to alleviate some of the swelling. These pants are entirely too tight and I’m regretting wearing them right now.
Our conversation turns to sports and current events. We rarely gossip or talk about work when we have lunch together. Carl takes the check and pays for it up front, ignoring my protests. I don’t fight it too hard.
“Have fun this afternoon. I’ll see you in court tomorrow,” he says after shaking my hand. I head to the parking garage with only one thing on my mind. Lily.
Chapter Three
I know I’m going to be early. It’s three thirty and I’m pacing my small apartment like I’m caged. I march over to the mirror and give myself one last look over. I decided on a white fitted button-down shirt because it shows off my muscles better than the linen shirt. It’s designed to wear untucked so it gives me a casual look. I have a swimmer’s body with broad shoulders and narrow hips. My strap-on empowers me. I know this is what both of us want. I want Lily to see everything good about me. I slide my hands in my pockets and pull the front of my khakis tight. The outline of my cock is visible. I don’t think she will be disappointed. Fuck it. I’ll go early. I grab a few extra condoms, find my keys, and head out to my car. I can get to the museum early, scope it out, and see if I can find a semi-private place for us. I think she wants to get caught, but I don’t.
I park in an almost deserted parking lot. I wonder if she’s already here. Is the Audi hers? It’s the nicest car here, one I envision a lawyer driving. I step out, wondering if she is inside the museum watching me get out of my car, feeling vulnerable that she might be. I close my door, straighten out my cock that has moved during the drive, and press my palms flat against my shirt and pants to smooth out any wrinkles. I still look good and I feel confident as hell. I stroll up the steps of the museum as if I don’t have a care in the world and I’m just there for culture, when in reality, I want to race up the stairs, find Lily, and fuck her. I want another cigarette. I feel my heart beating, the blood racing through me, the thump thump sound pounding in my ears. I exhale softly before I reach for the handle. The muse
um is quiet. The clicking of my shoes on the marble floor gets the attention of the guard sitting at the information desk. He watches as I slip a twenty into the donation box and gives me a head nod when I walk by. This museum runs off donations on the weekdays. The weekends are filled with special exhibits, fund raising parties, and galas attended by politicians, B actors, and high society.
I casually glance around, but I don’t see anybody who could be her. I turn right and peek into the ancient exhibit. I like that the rooms are dark and the only light is from the spotlights shining down on the thousands of years old artifacts. A guard follows me into the room. I walk into the next room and wait to see how much time passes before I see him. About two minutes. Not enough time for anything I want to do. My phone dings and I quickly silence it after seeing the scowl on the guard’s face. I look at the screen. It’s work and definitely not important. I head back to the main foyer, hoping to see her. The lobby is empty so I turn left down the hall that houses early Baroque statues and paintings bigger than my apartment. I’m not prepared to see her when I walk into the room so I stumble a bit when I do. Lily's sitting on a bench, facing a Caravaggio painting of John the Baptist. She looks more like a forties pin up girl than a lawyer. Her dress is tight from the waist up, her breasts nestled firmly inside, barely peeking out over the soft red silky material. I want to run my finger over her cleavage when I talk to her and watch her nipples harden against my touch. Her breasts are bigger than I expected from the bikini picture, not that I’m complaining. The skirt flows out from her hips and I wonder if she’s wearing panties. I will find out soon. I walk over to her, interrupting her view.
“They say he killed a man,” I say. She looks up at me with eyes so brown, so hungry, I almost fall to my knees in front of her with weakness. Her intensity is fierce. Instead, I turn on my heel and face the painting again. “It was a cop. So even hundreds of years ago when cops were probably more corrupt than they are now, it was still a really bad idea to kill one.” I hope she appreciates my attempt at humor.
“I have a lot of cop friends,” she finally says. I watch as she openly appraises me. The corner of her mouth curls up in an appreciative smirk. My confidence raises a few levels.
“So do I.” Not really friends, but people I’ve worked with over the years. She has to know that based on my job. “Any other favorites here?” She points to another dark painting on the opposite wall. I head over to it, racking my brain for anything on the artist Rubens. Nothing. I face her. “He’s very sensual.” She stands and walks over to me, one stiletto heel in front of the other, her hips swaying softly. I watch because I know she wants me to.
“He’s known for adding color when others dared not to.” She looks up at me. “I want to touch it.” I think she means my cock, but she means the painting. I lean toward her.
“If the guard wasn’t there, you could touch anything you wanted to.” She smiles at me, her coyness an adorable surprise.
“Maybe if you distracted him, I could get away with it.” She lifts her eyebrow in challenge.
“What if there is an alarm that goes off?” I ask.
“Then we run,” she says.
I look down at her very high heels. “In those?”
She laughs. “You’d be surprised what I can do in these.”
“Do tell.” I flirt back. I like the way this conversation is going. I’m glad she didn’t crash into me and demand I fuck her right off the bat. This playfulness is hot. My heart speeds up.
“There isn’t anything I can’t do in my heels. Sometimes I wear them and nothing else,” she says. I look down at her dress, her cleavage begging for release. She is gorgeous.
“What a beautiful picture you just painted for me,” I say. It’s a cheesy line, but she smiles anyway. She opens her mouth to say something, but then stops herself. She turns back to Rubens. I slip away from her and head to the guard. I bring him into a conversation about the museum and the activities scheduled for this weekend. I have no idea what’s scheduled, but act like I do. He is somewhat informative. I can tell she’s watching me. I point out the painting behind us to the guard and he turns to look. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her reach out and touch the canvas, her fingertips briefly tap the edge of the four hundred year old painting. I feel my pulse race when she drops her hand and gives me a wink. I quickly wrap up the conversation with the guard and head back to her. “Was it worth it?”
“Thank you.” Her courtesy surprises me. This from the same woman who, just last night, begged me to hold her arms behind her back while I fuck her from behind. I continue with the charade.
“Let’s go to the next room. They can’t all have guards,” I say. We walk slowly into the next room, her slightly ahead of me. I feel like she’s my prey. In a way, she is. This cat and mouse game is invigorating. I know I will win. My ego won’t allow me to give up total control. We enter a room where it’s just the two of us, no guards, and I decide to make this a little bit more interesting. I casually put my hands in my pocket and slightly pull the front of my pants taut. I want this game to move forward faster. “What is your favorite wing here in the museum? I would love to see it with you.” She turns back toward me and I watch her face as she notices my cock. Her eyes dart back up to mine and her mouth opens slightly, her tongue darting out to quickly, subconsciously lick her lips. Her eyes drop back down to my crotch. She takes a step closer.
“I like it all,” she says.
“All of it?” I ask.
“Every last inch,” she says. I have to stifle my laugh because she’s so clever with her words.
“Well, then we have a lot more to see.” I follow her out of the room, this time only half a step behind her. She smells like honey and summer. We walk into the colonial wing where scenes of early America are roped off. I already like this room. It’s dark and only the scenes are lit. We stop in front of a rendition of an early American log cabin depicting a typical home setup. The bed is covered with animal pelts and pillows stuffed full of goose feathers. “Not a very comfortable bed,” I whisper in her ear. I’m standing directly behind her, so close that I can feel her body heat. She leans forward to read the information on the plaque down on the floor and her ass brushes my crotch. I don’t move and neither does she. She gasps and slowly straightens. I softly put my hand on the back of her waist to steady her as she rises. It’s the first time I’ve touched her. She is warm through her dress and I can’t wait to feel her skin against mine.
“Life back then must have been…um…hard,” she says. She doesn’t turn to me, but walks over to the next display and stands in front of the plaque. I follow her. This time I run my fingertip very gently down the back of her arm before I take up my spot directly behind her again. I want to refrain from saying another tasteless thing so instead I ask her what the plaque says. She bends over, slower this time, knowing that she’s going to feel me again. I can’t help but press into her. I run my fingertips from the back of her waist over to her hip and slowly pull her back into me. She stands up again, her body completely flush up against mine. Her curves are soft, her hip sharp against my fingertips. I’m going to like digging my fingers into her supple skin while I hold her in place once we find a more private setting. She is far more beautiful than I expected. Even though I am holding in my carnal need to have sex right now, this game we’re playing introduces me to a whole different level of seducing a woman. I’m thoroughly enjoying it.
“What does it say?” I ask, my voice low, my mouth right next to her ear. She sways against me, her hand reaching back and softly touching my thigh. My muscles clench under her fingers and I hiss my approval. Even through my pants, I can feel the strength of her touch. Her head tilts toward my mouth, but I refrain from giving her what she wants for now. This afternoon is just getting started. By the end of this tête-à-tête, she will be marked by my mouth or my teeth. Her neck is too beautiful, too pale to not make mine. Once we are alone, I will gladly lose myself in this woman.
“Th
e diet of the early American settler was rough,” she says. Her voice is low and it’s more of a whisper, but I can tell she is completely turned on.
“Let’s go to the next one.”
She walks away from me and I follow. There are only a few more displays in this alcove and I need to make my move soon. We’re lucky. The guards haven’t found us yet. She watches me walk toward her, her eyes focused on mine, but right before I stand behind her again, her gaze drops down to my crotch. She turns back around to face the stuffed buffalo and models of Native Americans and settlers. This time when I stand behind her, I circle her waist with my arm and pull her against me. Not hard, but definitely possessively. She gasps. She pushes her ass into me, moving her hips in tiny circles causing my clit to throb. She’s ready for more. Her neediness empowers me. I slide my hand from her waist up to just under her breasts. I want all of her pressed against me. I whisper in her ear. “What does this one say?” For the first time, I allow myself to taste her skin. I run my tongue gently along the outside of her ear and suck her earlobe inside of my mouth. She tastes warm. Her earlobe is soft and she smells divine. She moans, the deep guttural sound shooting sparks throughout my body. I slowly grind my hips against her ass, the movements driving me crazy with the need to please both of us.
“I have to bend over to read the plaque,” she says. I slide my hands down to her hips and hold her against my cock as she bends over. This time we both moan. I slowly push against her, rocking my hips. I am so ready to slide up her dress and fuck her here, but I’m afraid the guard will show up at the most inopportune time. “This one…” she pauses as I bend my knees so I can rub my cock up and down her ass. “Um…this one says…” She never finishes. Her words turn into moans and I quickly forget about my question.
