Nate (The Princesses of Silicon Valley - Book 4)

by Claire, Anita

Getting to Union Square is easy; the roads are well marked. I don’t even need to get out my phone to navigate. Juliette is looking around trying to figure out where we’re going. Not really wanting to get lost in San Francisco I pull out my phone and type in: Coit Tower. While Juliette is busy naming streets we should be on and which direction we should head, my phone gives me the same answer. This woman is surprising. She gets ready fast, knows where she’s going, and is cool with spontaneous plans. Is this just date behavior? When does the crazy control shit kick in?

  Deciding it’s time I take over this date, I thread my fingers through Juliette’s and head us over to China Town’s Dragon Gate. While we wait for the light, I find myself naturally dropping her hand as I put my arms around her shoulders, I like the feel of her heat against me.

  China town is a relatively narrow street filled with people and shops. In front of their shops, the vendors have bins filled with assorted goods. We stop and check out some of the bins. I’ve never been much of a shopper or interested in collecting things. Picking up something silk, I hold it up as I question, “What is this?”

  Juliette starts laughing, she then answers, “It’s used to store jewelry.”

  Interesting, I thought women just left that shit in boxes and all over the counter. A few of the things I pick up she just shrugs. “How can a merchant sell something when no one knows what it is?”

  As we get closer to Coit Tower the road gets steeper, the sidewalk actually turns into stairs. Having only lived in flat cities I keep thinking, how can you drive a car on these steep roads in the winter? —And then I remember; this is winter. San Francisco doesn’t have snow and ice. This will be my first winter without it.

  Juliette and I walk hand in hand across the grounds that lead to Coit Tower. At the line to get in, we fall in behind a hipster couple. The four of us start chatting. The woman picks up one of Juliette’s curls asking, “What do you do to get that color and those types of curls?”

  In her happy, breezy way Juliette says, “It just comes out of my head that way. After swimming this morning, I brushed it and then used some Curls Rock.”

  I’m thinking there has to be a hitch. This women is just too casual and easy. The next thing I know we’re talking about wine tasting. Juliette doesn’t talk about girly things, I wonder if it’s because she’s an engineer. Most women I’ve dated can talk about hair, nails, and clothes for hours—conversations that make me want to escape.

  When we get to the top of the tower, we have a good view of San Francisco Bay. Juliette leans on the wall next to me as we both look out at the waterfront. Unable to resist I pick up one of her curls. Her hair is soft. She gives me a sweet look. Her skin is just so smooth; her coloring is luminescent, I can’t help but drag the pads of my finger down her cheek to her jaw. The touch ignites my entire body. Which makes me wonder what she tastes like? Is the rest of her body as soft and sweet as her face? While I’m thinking about her, she licks her sweet pink lips. Man, we’re in public; I can’t be walking around here with a boner. Standing up straighter to stretch I grab her hand and try thinking about things that will keep my libido in control. With a half-smile I say, “Come on; let’s check out the other views.”

  After making a complete loop, I look out towards the water, which gives me an idea as I suggest, “Lets head over to the Embarcadero and get a drink.”

  When we get back down to the street, figuring I should start making some more decisions, I tell her, “I’d like to sit out on the pier.” Reading through restaurant choices from my phone I ask, “Do you like oysters?”

  She smiles and says in her easy way, “Yeah, I’ll eat almost anything.”

  Taking Juliette’s hand in mine, we walk down the busy Embarcadero. It reminds me of Chicago. Living right on Lake Michigan for four years, I loved being part of all the people down by the waterfront. The bar I saw online is about a twenty-minute walk. They seat us on their outdoor patio. As I pick up the menu, I see Juliette rubbing her hands together as she asks, “What’s hot?”

  “You’re cold?” I ask in surprise

  She chuckles, in a self-deprecating way she explains, “Yeah, I have a little engine that easily runs cold. You have a lot more muscle mass then me.”

  She is a little thing; I was just thinking I wish I hadn’t taken my jacket since it’s making me too warm. Taking off my jacket, I wrap it around her as I ask, “Wasn’t Irish coffee invented in San Francisco?”

  She nods, then fills in, “Yeah, over at the Buena Vista by Ghirardelli Square.”

  As she snuggles into my coat I think, lucky coat. Doing the next best thing I pick up her hands, they feel cold as I rub them between mine. She gives me a sweet, shy look. As I feel some warmth return to her hands I ask in a voice I find surprisingly deep, “Better?”

  With a shy smile she nods.

  The server interrupts this intimate moment. “What can I get you folks?”

  As we stand to leave she hands me back my jacket. I reluctantly take it, putting my arm around her to keep her warm, I realize I’m not fooling myself, I tuck her close because I like the way she feels.

  Back on the Embarcadero, I look up and can see the Ferry Building and suggest we take a ferry to Sausalito. As we walk her head is right below my nose. She smells like fruity hair product and something else all her own. At the kiosk I buy us tickets while noticing that we only have a couple of minutes before the next one leaves. Grabbing ahold of her hand, I tip my head as I say, “Let’s run for it,” then I pull her along the dock.

  Once on the ferry we find a bench that overlooks a large portal, really it’s more like a picture window. Strategically, I place my arm around her as I tuck her close, drawing lazy circles on her arm as I fantasize about making love to her. The other people leave. I lightly whisper, “Juliette.”

  She looks up at me through her long, dark, eyelashes. Her lips are tantalizing. They’re like magnates to my steel. I move close to kiss her. With an overwhelming need to touch her I grab her knee. I want her close, wrapped around me.

  Her mouth tastes like oysters and coffee as her tongue meets mine, though the sensation of her kiss is pure sex. I have an overwhelming desire to consume her. I could continue kissing her forever as her taste and the proximity of her body igniting my insides. My reverie is interrupted by the loud padding of little feet as it tells me kids are heading our way. Reluctantly, I release those lips just in time for the parents to show up. The dad narrows his eyes at me, as he gives me a “behave yourself in front of my kids” look. Juliette leans into me. I can feel her pulse race. Her fingers gently message my leg, which is driving me crazy. It’s not like I want her to stop, it’s just I don’t want to stand up while sporting a hard on.

  When the ferry finally docs I stand up first, giving her my hand. I thread my fingers through hers as we walk to the exit. As we wait to debark, I wrap my arms around her shoulders, pulling her close, which gives me the perfect opportunity to smell her hair again. Man, this just turns me on. Going back to holding her hand, we walk together around the fancy little Sausalito shops. Thinking about what’s next, I realize it will be dinner time when we get back to San Francisco. As we enter a gallery, Juliette looks at the artwork while I pull out my phone to search for a restaurant, make the reservations, and then set an alarm so that we don’t miss the last ferry back. After performing all my planning activities, I look around, quickly spotting Juliette with a contemplative look on her face. She’s standing in front of a large Doctor Seuss, Sam I Am illustration. Unable to keep my hands off her, I wrap them around her shoulders and pull her into my chest.

  She finally says, “You remember when that Senator filibustered against health care?” I nod my head as she continues. “During the filibuster he read his kids Green Eggs and Ham. I never got that. He went to Princeton and Harvard, how could he have failed to get the point of the book was to open up, to try and give something new a chance.”

  I chuckle, as I’m surprised by what she thinks about, “I thought the
point of the book was the power of perseverance in the face of stubborn resistance.”

  She counters, “Even so, that wouldn’t have supported his argument since it’s all based on the point of view who’s being stubborn and who’s persevering? Wouldn’t he have done better if he had read Horton Hears a Who? That’s about those in power listening to the powerless.”

  I think about it, and nod, “Didn’t that happen a while ago?”

  She breathes in hard before continuing, “Yeah, but it drives me crazy when someone uses the wrong analogy. Now, every time I look at Green Eggs and Ham I think of that guy.”

  I chuckle again as I start to get her, “Like Irony instead of, what did you say—oxymoron?”

  With a happy laugh she responds, “So, was I wrong or was I just extending a concept? Don’t oxymoron words mean the opposite while ironic is the opposite of what you expect? So, oxymoron would be a sign on that steep mountain that says easy grade, while ironic would be a guy who rides his bike to the top and then smokes a cigarette. Does the English language have a word that means conflicting activities?”

  “I think we have two words, conflicting and activities,” I respond.

  She nods, “In grad school I had a friend from Germany. Her English vocabulary was amazing. She always complained that her vocabulary was limited. We were running up at the Dish during sunrise; she looked at the Santa Cruz hills, pointed and said, ‘In German we have a word ‘Blauschimmer’ it means the way the hills turn from pink to blue at sunrise. I don’t know what the English equivalent is.’”

  I get her point as I respond, “Yeah, it could just be that we don’t have one specific word.” Juliette’s interesting; of course, Mariana comes popping back into my head. Thinking how different these women are I realize that for the first time in a year I feel like I’m over Mariana. Maybe our break up was for the best. Juliette is so easy to be around and I think we share more in common.

  My phone’s alarm takes me to the present, as it tells me we need to leave and catch our ferry back. As we find the same seat we were in before, we watch the lights of San Francisco grow close. Again I contemplate; this isn’t a vacation, living here is now my life.

  We walk to an Italian restaurant for dinner; it’s nice and intimate. After dinner, Juliette offers to pay her share. I’m glad she doesn’t take me for granted. But, I don’t want any ambiguity as I tell her, “It’s not a date if you pay, and this is definitely a date.”

  With her head resting on her hands she tips her head and asks, “What do you mean?”

  Gently moving a lock of her hair behind her ear, “I might be new in the area, but I’m not looking for just another friend.”

  When we get back to my jeep, I have all good intentions of opening the passenger door for her. Backing her into the car, I block her in by placing my hands on either side of her head, and looking at her pretty face, my focus is on those pink lips. She licks her lips as I crash mine into her, probing my tongue into her mouth. Her tongue feels soft and warm, it tastes good, female. I bet she’s tight. Pulling her close, I kiss her harder, deeper, that overwhelming desire to consume her returns. She runs her hands over my arm and chest. I like the feel of her fingers on me as she grabs my shirt to bring me closer.

  Her kisses make me hungry for more, as I contemplate how to get what I crave a car drives by, some guy yells out, “get a room!”

  Releasing our kiss I place my forehead against hers. I breathe in her warm, sweet smell. Whispering her name she responds with, “Nate.”

  My name off her lips sends shivers down my back. I want her so bad.

  Rubbing my cheek against her soft skin I whisper into her hair, “We should get in the car, we should go back.” This woman has possessed me. How can it be, I barely know her, as I kiss her ear, jaw, then rub my noes along her cheek. Gently kissing my lips, she says, “yes,” into my mouth.

  “Yeah, we should either get a room, or get in the car.” I whisper.

  She whispers back “Car. We should get in the car.”

  Realizing I’m not going to get what I want, and not wanting to spook her, I gather my will power, finally pulling away from what I crave, I open the door for her.

  The sexual energy in the car is palpable as we listen to music on the radio, I don’t think either of us can even speak.

  As I pull up to her place she releases her buckle, in a soft, almost reverent voice she flashes me a sweet smile saying, “Today was great, really great.”

  Winding one of her curls around my finger until my hand reaches her face, I run my knuckles along her jaw, “Yeah, it was a great day.”

  My gaze wanders over to her mouth causing her to slightly gasp. Our mouths meet, letting me relish her warmth and sweet taste. Finally releasing the kiss, I want more as I start kissing her soft face, ending by her ear where I can only manage to say her name. She shivers under my touch. It moves her hair and exposes her neck. Layering a line of kisses down the column of her neck, I want to head south and kiss the rest of her as my body just vibrates from craving. Again, I tell myself not to overplay my hand as my body fights with my mind. As my lips move north, back to her mouth we start another deep kiss. My fingers enjoy the heat of her body as our mouths devour each other. As I releaser her mouth I whisper, “Juliette, I want you.” Shit, I just said that out loud even though I keep telling myself to play this cool.

  With a sweet smile she shyly whispers, “I need to go inside.”

  Leaning into her I ask, “Can I join you?”

  Now she just stares at me through her eyelashes, lightly shaking her head, as she says, “Not this time; not this night.”

  Shit, I hope I didn’t overplay my hand as I nod then ask, “Tomorrow, can I see you tomorrow?”

  Her smile gets larger as she says, “I’d like that.”

  Not having an idea of what we can do tomorrow, I just say, “I’ll text you in the morning.”

  Biting her lip she nods then responds, “I look forward to it.”

  Man, I just want to bite that lip too.

  Remembering to grab her purse this time she fishes out her keys, opens the car door, my eyes are then caught by a figure standing across the street. It’s a man; he’s obviously been watching us. Not something I like.

  Keeping my eyes on this guy, I ask Juliette, “Who’s that?”

  She stills and lets out a small gasp. The guy realizes we’ve noticed him, he uncomfortably moves. Now I can see his face.

  In a soft voice Juliette says, “I don’t know.”

  I quickly get out of my jeep. Shouting over to him in a stern voice and with killer eye contact, “Can I help you?”

  The guy gets really uncomfortable, finally saying, “I was just waiting for Cassie.”

  Juliette leans towards me, “Oh that must be the guy Cassie had a fling with.”

  Shit, does her roommate have a stalker? I turn back to the guy. “Cassie’s not home and you better move on.” Leaning down to Juliette, “Come on let me walk you to your door.” As she opens her front door I tell her, “Lock up, please call the police if you see him around again.” I stand in front of her door and listen to the lock engage. Slowly I walk to my jeep. I wait in front for about ten minutes, until that guy took off.

  Chapter 18 – Hockey Game

  I get back to Jamie’s late enough that I don’t have to hear my sister and Tyler doing it in her bedroom. My apartment is available on Monday. First thing Monday morning I’m ordering a bed. The less time I stay at my sister’s the better; though I’m still going to set her straight on this guy.

  Juliette told me she has a family commitment until the middle of the afternoon. In the morning my soon-to-be new boss has left a message asking me if I would like a couple of hockey tickets for tonight since he and his wife can’t attend. He knows I’m staying with my sister, but I’m not going to ask Jamie, I’d much rather be with Juliette. Getting back to my boss, I tell him I’ll take the tickets. He tells me two other docs and a couple of physical therapists from our p
ractice will be at the game.

  As I drink my coffee I text Juliette, “Can I pick you up at 5:30 for an early dinner and a pro hockey game?”

  I’ve checked out a couple of MMA studios online, heading over to one that sounds interesting I get a tour and a day pass. On my way home I stop at my bosses to pick up the tickets. When I get back to my sister’s she’s home. She helps me order some furniture. Tomorrow I’ll get anything else I need. As my sister and I look at the computer Tyler is sitting on the sofa getting high as he watches ESPN, shit I hope they don’t do drug testing at my new office. I’ll take Jamie out for dinner this week; we’ll talk about him then.

  When I pick Juliette up, again, she’s ready. She answers the door being friendly, but shy. She blushes and her face turns red. She must be thinking something naughty, which just turns me on. Reaching out I drag my fingers down her sweet face, watching her shudder in response. Unable to control myself, I pull her close for a nice long kiss. Using sizeable self-control I manage to say, “Let’s eat,” when what I really want to do is pick her up, find her bed, and screw her until neither of us can move.

  Dinner goes well. Each time we’re together it just gets easier, more relaxed. She tells me this is her first hockey game ever. She’s never even watched a hockey game on TV. This should be interesting; I just pray she doesn’t talk about lame shit the entire time. Maybe taking her was a mistake. My sister follows the sport but….

  Our tickets are amazing, three rows behind the bench. Our seats are at the end of the row. I situate Juliette so she sits on the far side of the partners and physical therapists. They each give me a surprised look, as in I got in town two days ago and show up with a pretty girl on my arm. As the game starts I start chatting with Juliette, she looks at me out of the corner of her eye, points to the ice, “Aren’t you going to watch the game?” Damn, I like this woman.

  After about five minutes she asks, “Off sides, in soccer you’re off sides when an attacking player goes behind the line of defenders before the ball has been kicked to them. I was reading about hockey and I’m totally confused by the rules?” Explaining the blue line to her, I spend the rest of the game breaking down player strategy then showing her how the guys are either doing it well or messing up. The docs on the other side of me point out each of the players and the surgery’s they’ve performed on them. Many of the players have had some kind of orthopedic injury. At one point one of the team’s trainers comes over to talk to us. Luckily, no one gets injured during the game. It’s been a fun game; I look forward to taking Juliette again. As I illegally park in front of her place I don’t even ask if I can come inside, I just try to keep her in the car kissing me for as long as I can.