by Denise Avery
“He’s like... a billionaire billionaire? Like, for real?”
“Like for billions of dollars real.”
“Then why does Cheryl have the store, if they’re not hurting for money?”
“I guess it was a Christmas present to her. Something to keep her busy.”
“Wow.”
“I know,” said Savannah, “But hey, you liked him even before you knew! That means it’s got to be true love.”
“You don’t believe in true love,” Claire said.
“No,” Savannah replied, “But I know you do, and I want you to get laid. I’m just trying to be a good friend, here.”
Before Claire could respond, she felt her phone vibrating against her leg. She pulled out her cell and squinted at the caller ID. With a pang of panic, she saw that the number was Cheryl’s. She turned the phone around for Savannah to see.
“Oh, shit,” Savannah giggled, always excited by drama as she was, “Maybe she read your mind!”
“Don’t even joke. I’m going to let it go to voicemail.”
“What a baby.”
The phone stopped buzzing, but before Claire could savor a moment’s relief, a text message popped up on her screen. “Need you for errand. Pick up important documents at 582 W. 66th St. and bring them to the store. C”.
“God, I hate how she thinks we’re available 24/7 for her busywork! She really is a witch,” Claire said angrily, “She wants me to go pick up some papers for her like some low-level welcome mat of an employee.”
“You are some low-level welcome mat of an employee.” Savannah said.
“Don’t rub it in.”
“Well. You know what would teach her a lesson.” Savannah said smugly.
“You’re incorrigible, you know that?” Claire said, gathering her things, “I’ve got to head into Manhattan. See you soon.”
“If you see Parker, you know what to do!”
“Parker? Who’s Parker?”
“Who’s...? Claire. Parker is Cheryl’s husband. Did you seriously not even know his name?”
“Huh... I guess I didn’t.”
“Jesus. You are such a hopeless romantic I could spit. Now get out of here. That guy by the window table has been giving me a continuous once-over and I want to see if he’d be down for a bathroom quickie.”
“Savannah, you’re a marvel.”
“I know, right?”
***
“578... 580... 582. Here we are,” Claire muttered to herself. The trip uptown had worn her patience down to a nub. This was supposed to be her day off, and her horrible boss had her running all sorts of mundane errands? Maybe she should find a new job, after all. She laughed at the thought, remembering at once her poor financial state and staggering student loan bills. Any job was better than none, and she should be grateful to Cheryl for having hired her with no experience. Trying to stay chipper, she glanced up at the building from which she was supposed to be fetching documents.
582 W. 66th Street looked to be a beautiful pre-war townhouse, not like any office building Claire had ever seen. She double checked Cheryl’s text and sure, enough, she was at the right place. What kind of important documents could be here? She shrugged and climbed the front steps, realizing that she was dressed pretty casually to be doing anything business related. Under her coat was a somewhat slinky dress of her favorite variety—long-sleeved and short-skirted. She hoped that no one would give her any trouble for daring to look a little sexy. You never could tell with these snobby business types.
Claire rang the doorbell, hoping that this whole thing wouldn’t take too long. Cheryl got antsy whenever the things she wanted done didn’t happen immediately, and Claire didn’t want to deal with her nonsense. Especially not when she’d been fantasizing about the woman’s husband for the last week! Claire felt like she should be on her best behavior around Cheryl, all things considered.
The sound of quick footsteps sounded through the door, and Claire stepped back as it swung open towards her. She peered across the threshold and felt her heart leap into her throat. Standing before her, in all his glory, was the man of her illicit dreams: Parker.
Claire felt like she was paralyzed, standing before him with her mouth gaping. God, she thought, he looks even better in person than in my imagination. In all of her daydreams since the day they had met, Parker had taken on a sheen of perfection that was inhuman. In person, though he was perfectly suited to her wildest dreams, the flesh and blood of him was absolutely irresistible. The fact that he was a man who lived and breathed, sweated and ostensibly fucked, hit Claire hard in the stomach. She felt, in that moment, that she needed to have him. No matter what she would have to do.
“What are you doing here?” she blurted out and immediately felt like an idiot. Nice start, she chided herself, interrogate him. That’s really sexy. “I mean... I’m sorry. I must be at the wrong place.”
“Cheryl sent you over?” he asked. Claire nodded mutely, “Why don’t you come in?”
“I don’t understand,” Claire said, trying to make sense of the situation, “Do you live here? I thought that Cheryl’s place was in TriBeCa?”
“Yeah, well,” Parker said sternly, “This isn’t Cheryl’s place.”
An opening, Claire thought, and stepped around Parker into the house. The door clicked shut behind her as her eyes adjusted to the relatively dim light inside. Parker stood with his arms crossed and his back to the door. He looked distracted, or agitated... certainly not in the mood for a good fuck session. Of course not, Claire scolded herself again, that’s probably the furthest thing from his mind. He probably doesn’t even remember you.
“Have the trains been treating you better this week?” he asked. Her heart fluttered. He did remember, after all!
“Oh, sure,” Claire squeaked, annoyed by her overly-youthful voice, “No more old creeps! I mean... Like the guy who was trying to grab me. Not you. Not that you’re a creep. Or old. But I mean—”
“I’ve got it,” Parker said, cocking an eyebrow. Claire felt mortified. He probably thought she was some silly little girl, nothing more. God, could she blow this whole thing any more thoroughly?
“So...” Claire said, “You and Cheryl are having problems?” There it was! The nail in the coffin. She officially couldn’t get her foot any further into her mouth.
“Problems?” Parker said, “Why do you ask?”
“I just figured... You’ve got your own place here... I thought—”
“Oh,” Parker said, “No, I don’t live here. This is just where I come to conduct my business. I hate those big office buildings, with the florescent lights and the uncomfortable chairs and all. This is much more my style.”
“So... This is like... Your den?” Claire said, amazed.
“Pretty much,” he said.
“Jesus. You really are loaded,” Claire muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing!” she grinned nervously and extended her hand to him, “I’m Claire, by the way. I don’t think I ever properly introduced myself.”
“I’m Parker,” he said, taking her hand, “It’s nice to meet you. Officially.”
As his hand closed around hers, Claire felt a surge of warmth shoot up her arm, sizzling along every bone in her body. She looked into Parker’s eyes and saw, just for a moment, a familiar glint in his eye. It looked, from where she was standing, a lot like desire. She realized that they were still clasping hands and allowed herself to smile, shakily. She had a thing for great hands, and this guy sure had an excellent set. Unbidden, a parade of fantasies about what he could do with those hands flooded her imagination. Parker watched her catch herself and become embarrassed, and quickly dropped her hand.
“Are you in a hurry?” he asked, all business.
“Well, I—”
“Good. Why don’t you let me take your coat? Do you like espresso?”
“Oh... I... sure—” Claire said, as he helped her out of her jacket.
“Great. Come sit down, I’
ll...” he trailed off suddenly, and Claire remembered her less-than-casual outfit choice that day.
She could feel Parker’s eyes raking down her body, over the curves that were tightly bound in the thin cotton of her dress. He looked, for that moment, like he could tear her right in two if she let him. The crazy thing was that Claire was excited by the fierce lust in his eyes. He seemed borderline dangerous, intimidating. Claire had zero experience with anything but conventional sex.
The two men that she’d slept with in her life were not really men at all but little boys. Their eager, puppy-like approaches to love-making had, on more than one occasion, left Claire so bored that she had actually rolled her eyes during intercourse. She was fairly certain that sex with Parker would be anything but conventional, if she could ever get the nerve up to put herself out there for him.
“So. Espresso!” Parker said, tearing his eyes away from Claire’s body. She nodded dumbly, and watched as Parker moved toward the kitchen.
“Should I get those documents from you first?” Claire said shyly, having completely lost track of the situation.
“Documents?” Parker said, momentarily puzzled. “Oh! The documents. Right. They can wait. You must have had a long trip uptown, right?”
“Uh...”
“You should take a load off.”
“Oh. Sure. OK. Um... Actually, do you mind if I use your bathroom real quick?”
“Bathroom? Yeah, sure,” Parker said, “It’s right down the hall.”
Claire smiled weakly and darted down the long hallway. There seemed to be more rooms in this New York apartment than there had been in Claire’s entire home growing up. She found the bathroom, finally, and closed the door tightly behind her. Letting the tap run to drown out any noise, she pulled out her phone and dialed Savannah’s number. Her friend didn’t pick up until what felt like the eightieth ring, and she sounded a bit foggy when she did.
“What’s up, Claire?”
“Savannah? Were you asleep?”
“Asleep? No. In bed? Certainly.”
“Who with this time?”
“Hold on, let me check,” she moved the phone from her ear to address whoever was there with her, “Steve.”
“Who’s Steve?”
“Why so many questions? What do you need.”
“I need help! The address Cheryl sent me to for those papers is Parker’s fucking home office. What am I supposed to do?”
“Are you two there alone?”
“Yes!”
“Then for god’s sake, girl, jump him!”
“But—”
“No ‘buts’. This is your golden opportunity. Don’t mess it up.”
“But what if—”
“What did I say about ‘buts’? Get out there and make me proud.”
“Savannah—”
But the line was already dead. Claire shook her head in amazement at her friend’s ability to throw herself into any situation. She looked up into the bathroom mirror and caught a glimpse of her anxious, nearly teary expression. She looked like a scared little girl before a talent show, and it pissed her off.
“Goddammit, Claire,” she said to herself, “You are a grown woman now, and you can do whatever the hell you please! You need to go out there and have yourself an experience. You deserve this, you can do this, and you want to do this. Go sink your teeth into the beautiful male specimen or you’ll be kicking yourself until the day you die!”
The pep talk seemed to take hold. Claire hiked her already-short skirt up, adjusted the neckline of her dress further down to reveal her bulging breasts, and tousled her hair to give it an extra sexy edge. She reexamined herself in the mirror and very much liked what she saw. Hopefully, Parker would like it as well. It’s show time, she thought, and threw open the bathroom door. She was going to put herself out there for Parker. Whether or not anything came of it was a different story, but she knew that she at least had to try. She was sick of feeling like a little lost girl. It was time to act like the sexy, confident woman that she wanted to be.
Claire strode into the kitchen, where Parker was busy pulling an expert shot of espresso from a very complicated-looking machine. He peered over his shoulder and took in the sight of Claire. She couldn’t help but get wildly turned on by his attention, conflicted though it seemed. She wanted to put him at ease, wanted him to know how much she wanted him, but how could she begin? What if she’d been misinterpreting his signals this whole time? She was definitely spot-on about the signals her own body was sending. She could feel the slow, building pressure of anticipation building inside of her, particularly down south. She had a physical need to be touched by the man, and she suspected that he felt the same way. But how to tell for sure?
“Here you go,” he said, offering her an espresso in what looked like a very expensive china cup. She took it, grateful for the prop. She needed to find a solid foothold if she was going to make it through this.
“So...” she began. A rather weak start.
“So,” he echoed, taking a sip of his espresso, “How do you like the place?”
“It’s beautiful,” Claire said, taking a look around the impeccably clean kitchen, “I’m glad that Cheryl needed those papers so badly.”
“Yeah...” Parker said, a guilty edge muffling his voice, “About that, Claire. There aren’t actually any papers. I asked Cheryl to send you here. I would have done it myself, but, you know... decorum.”
Claire heart smacked against her ribcage. “Oh... Why did you...?”
“Why did I ask you up here?” Parker offered, “Well, Cheryl mentioned that you studied photography in school. Yes?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, I’m going to need a photographer on my staff soon. Just freelance work. Mostly events and products. Are you interested?”
“Yeah. Sure...” Claire said, deflated. He’d only wanted her to come for an interview? But if that was the case... “Why did you have to lie about the papers?”
“Well...” Parker said, a little ruffled, “I... The truth is, Claire. May I call you Claire?”
“That is my name.”
“The truth is, Claire, that I rather enjoyed your company the other day.”
“We talked for like, two minutes on the subway.”
“It was a great two minutes.”
“Well...” Claire was completely at a loss. Why wouldn’t he just be straight with her?
“I’m sorry,” Parker said, lowering his eyes, “I’ve never done something like this before. I’m not usually like this. But... I haven’t stopped thinking about you for a moment since we met. And I knew that if I didn’t see you soon. Wasn’t able to see you whenever I wanted... I’d go nuts.”
“Really?”
“Really. I don’t know if you realize this Claire, but you are an incredibly sexy young woman.”
Oh my god, Claire thought, her breath coming quick and short, oh my god this is it. It’s really going to happen. I’m going straight to hell. Oh, who cares!
Parker began to advance upon her, and she felt her hands begin to shake. He wanted him desperately, but she couldn’t help but be a little frightened. He was clearly an experienced man who was used to getting what he wanted. What if she couldn’t keep up? As her anxiety reached a fever pitch, the espresso cup slipped from her grasp and shattered. On its way down, it spilled hot liquid down her dress.
“Ow! Shit!” Claire exclaimed, as the burning coffee scorched her skin. “I’m so sorry... do you have a paper towel? I promise that I’ll clean this up.”
As the words slipped from her mouth, Claire felt Parker’s strong hands latch onto her arms. In a moment, she felt her back slam against the hard, unforgiving wood of the kitchen table. The force of the impact shocked her into speechlessness. Parker loomed over her, his teeth bared in a ferocious smile.
“Did that hurt?” he asked hungrily.
“It hurt,” Claire said. As she did, she was amazed to find that she was glad it had. The burning coffee, the force with
which he had her pinned to the table with his strong hands digging into her flesh—it was turning her on. She could barely recognize the twisted, dangerous fantasies that were whirling through her mind.
“You liked it, didn’t you?” Parker demanded.
“I love it.” Claire said, amazed at her bravery.
“Tell me what you want me to do to you.” Parker said, putting the weight of his hips against hers. In that instant, she could feel the swelling of cock against her thigh. She could tell that he was enormous, by far the biggest she’d ever dreamt of, let alone seen. She thought again of how she could handle such a powerful, potent specimen of a man, having had so little experience. It was a whole new world filled with danger, passion, and pleasure. She didn’t know what that world had in store, but she wanted to find out. She wanted Parker to show her.
“I want you to destroy me.” she whispered, looking deeply into Parker’s ice blue eyes.
“Be careful what you wish for,” Parker said. His hand left her shoulder and locked securely onto her throat. “You might just get it.”
The sudden restriction of her breathing sent a rush of delight through Claire’s body. Spots danced across her vision, obscuring her view of Parker’s lustful gaze. As he held her tightly by the neck, she let out a little whimper. The sound surprised them both. He was surprised to hear her intimate sounds for the first time, excited to explore the range of her voice, as it were. She was surprised too by this strange, dark world that was unfolding before her.
“Let’s get you out of this dirty dress,” Parker said quietly. He made it sound like a threat. With his free hand, he pushed the hem of her cotton dress up over her body, revealing her naked flesh inch-by-inch. He groaned at the sight of her pale, strapping thighs, the soft expanse of her belly, the hips that looked like they should be grabbed onto as handles during a vigorous fuck.
“I’m sorry about your coffee cup,” Claire breathed, her words coming out labored and slow. “I didn’t mean to break it.”
Parker’s hands abandoned their post at Claire’s throat and tangled themselves in her hair. He tightened his grip, wrenching her head backward. “I’ll make you sorry. You don’t even know what sorry is yet. What are you, twenty six?”
