Wishes in Her Eyes

by D. L. Uhlrich

  Stopping at the closest grocery store, hoping to just run in and run out, I dash for the frozen food section. I peruse the television dinners, trying to decide on gourmet mac and cheese or chicken nuggets. Finally I say to hell with it and grab a single-serve lasagna. A quick run by the bakery for French bread and I’m on to the register.

  Having safely made it in and out of the store without being seen by anyone I know, I sprint to my car. As I reach for the door I notice something doesn’t look quite right. One look down and I see the problem—a flat tire. “Are you fucking kidding me?!” I say to myself. I throw my food in the car, slam the door, open the trunk and my heart sinks. No spare. One of things I said I’d get around to doing. Slamming the trunk down, I mumble, “Shit! Now what?” At that precise moment the sky opens up and the rain comes. At first an annoying sprinkle, then a determined drizzle, and finally a deluge of mythical proportions. All in a matter of minutes. Un-ladylike words stream from my mouth.

  As I stand there drowning and wallowing in pity, a deep “Need some help?” comes from behind me and I nearly jump out of my skin. I turn around and plow right into the chest of Stone Masterson, nearly knocking him to the ground.

  “Umfp. Sorry,” I stammer, trying unsuccessful to look composed. Bulldozing him down like a Kansas City Chiefs defensive end isn’t exactly how I want to behave in front of my crush.

  “No problem. That’s what I get for scaring a beautiful woman at night in a thunderstorm.”

  Did he just say “beautiful?” Naw. Must be the storm distorting his words.

  “Huh? Oh, uh, yeah. You scared the shi... uh, stuffing out of me.”

  “Where’s your spare?” Stone asks, taking a quick assessment of my car.

  “Where’s my what? Oh, my spare... heh, heh, well, um. That’s a good question. Uh, what I mean is... I don’t have a spare. That is, I mean, I meant to take care of that, but it seems I never got around to it.”

  What the hell is wrong with me? I sound like a Twilight fan that has just met Robert Pattinson with all the sputtering I’m doing. I’m usually pretty calm, cool and collected around men, even men I’m attracted to.... Not so much with Stone.

  While I’m still trying to figure out why I’ve gone all dumbass, I realize that Stone is laughing. Not just a chuckle, but a big belly laugh. I mean he laughs until he’s holding his side.

  I’m usually good at laughing at myself, but my stupidity at not having a spare has kinda zapped my humor.

  Noticing that I’m giving him the stink eye, he says, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh at you. I’m not laughing at you, it’s just that this same thing happened to me when we had that crazy storm last month. I was already running late, I didn’t have a spare and I’d forgotten my cell phone at home. I hit the trifecta of bad luck that night. I was so pissed at myself I cussed a blue streak so loud that people started to stare at me.”

  Ah, so he has stupid moments too. That makes me feel a bit better. “You just missed my blue streak. If you’d been here twenty seconds earlier, you would have heard words that would make you blush.”

  “I heard them. Quite impressive.”

  “Lovely,” I say hoping the ground will open up and swallow me whole.

  “So you let a few curse words fly. I’m not a prude. I’ve heard worse.”

  “Uh, okay. Can we take up my use of harsh language at another time? I’m freezing, I’m kinda getting waterlogged here and I still need to find a tire somewhere.”

  “Jesus, I’m sorry. Let’s get out of the rain.”

  We run back to the store and I call AAA. Fifteen minutes later, I snap my cell phone closed and sigh in defeat. “Two hours. It’s gonna take them two hours to get to me. Apparently everybody’s cars within a fifty-mile radius have decided to have a flat.”

  “No problem. I’ll take you home.”

  We head toward the door as a soggy man runs past us to escape the monsoon. “Hey, if you’re headed north, you can forget it. There are trees and power lines down everywhere.”

  Watching me as I hang my head, almost in tears, Stone says, “I take it you live north.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, you’ll come home with me.”

  Snapping out of my misery, I say, “What?!”

  “You’ll come home with me.”

  “Uh, that’s not necessary. I’ll just call Darry to come get me.”

  There’s no way I can go home with him. I don’t trust myself not to do something embarrassing, like roll around on his bed and sniff the pillows.

  “It’s Friday night; Darry is probably in bed, in the arms of some happy man.”

  He’s right. Darry is probably in the middle of a man sandwich. He’ll kill me if I call and interrupt him. Oh, he’ll come and get me, but I’ll never hear the end of it.

  “Probably. Plus he lives up north too.”

  “Perfect. Let’s go.”

  It could be my imagination, but Stone seems to be happy about our little impromptu sleepover.

  As he heads toward the door, I remember what brought me to the store. “Wait! I forgot. I have food in my car.”

  “I’ll go get it. Give me your keys.”

  He runs to my car, gets the food and runs back. At the door, Stone yells above the thunder, “Let’s go!”

  As we run, I slip in a puddle of water, right on my ass. Mortified, I scramble to get up and fall back in the hole. This just keeps getting better, I think to myself. Stone hauls me up and carries me to his car.

  “Put me down! I don’t wanna be responsible for you getting a hernia.”

  “Don’t make me laugh or I’ll drop you. I’ve carried ammo that’s heavier than you.”

  What?! Carried ammo that’s heavier than you. Concern begins to creep into me. Do I want to go home with a man that is clearly touched in the head? But it doesn’t seem that I have a choice.

  Once at his car, he lets me down, unlocks and opens the door for me. He even reaches in and straps my seat belt for me. Disturbing. This man can’t be real.

  Stone gets in and cranks the heat up. Soothing music drifts from his stereo. Warmth, intoxicating tunes and an airtight interior make me feel like I’m in a cocoon... with Stone. Not safe. Not safe at all.

  “Harper,” Stone pauses as he appeared to let my name marinate in his mouth. “That’s a unique name for a woman.”

  “Yeah. I’m named after To Kill a Mockingbird author Harper Lee. My mom loves the book, but my dad wasn’t all that into the name at the time. He wanted to name me Sojourner after Sojourner Truth because he taught black history in the Army, but my mom thought that was too much so she came up with Quincy after Quincy Jones, but my dad didn’t like that either so mom picked Myles for Myles Davis, but dad didn’t like that so then....”

  Realizing I’m rambling, I tend to do that when I nervous, I stop. Stone saves me from having to explain any more and just laughs.

  After driving a few miles, he asks me if I’m warm. “Yes, I’m good, thank you. But I’m getting your seat wet.”

  Stone shrugs and says, “It’ll dry. I just wanna make sure you’re okay.” Incredible.

  A few minutes more and we’re walking into his townhouse in upscale Briarcliff. It has hardwood floors, Floor-to-ceiling windows with an amazing view of the city and oversized leather furniture. My whole apartment would fit in his living room.

  The bank we work at is just a stone’s throw, no pun intended, from Westport, which is about eight miles from Briarcliff. I wonder why Stone was in my neck of the woods.

  “Not to be nosy, but you were shopping a little far from home,” I say, knowing I sound as nosy as I’m trying not to be.

  “I was coming from work and was going to stop at the store. That’s when I saw you. Helping you out seemed more important than the Pop Tarts and milk I was going in for.”

  He grins which shows off those laugh lines I’m so fond of. That’s when I notice he is still in his suit. Duh! I could have answered my own question. Since I’m n
ot wearing heels, I also notice he seems so much taller than his actual height. I have a penchant for tall men and since I also have a penchant for Stone, he seems larger than life.

  Remembering my manners, I realize this is the point where I should thank him. “Oh, I don’t think I thanked you. Thanks. I really appreciate your help. I’d probably still be waiting for roadside assistance to show up.”

  “No problem, he says while taking my hand, “Come on. You can take a shower in my bathroom to warm up.”

  Alarms go off in my head. Bad idea! Bad Idea! My brain screams. No! I think to myself, I’m a grown woman. I can do this.

  “Uh, okay,” I say in a small voice. “My clothes are wet and they’re all I have with me.”

  “One of my t-shirts will fit.”

  At this point, I’m so confused I just trail behind him. The man of my fantasies is asking me to shower in his bathroom and wear one of his t-shirts. Surely, in no time I’ll wake from the dream I’m having.

  In Stone’s bathroom, he hands me a soft gray t-shirt that says “Oo-rah!” on the front of it and one of the fluffiest towels I’ve ever felt. “Feel free to use anything you want. I’ll be in the kitchen making dinner. How is grilled Tilapia with zucchini and yellow squash? Do you like d’Asti Moscato?”

  He cooks too? Lord save me. “All of it sounds delicious, but you don’t have to go through the trouble.”

  “It’s no trouble. I love to cook,” he says walking to the door

  I decide to just give up on trying to figure any of this out and just go with it. I turn on the water in the walk-in shower, strip out of my wet, ice-cold clothes and step in. “Ah, wow. This is incredible.” Blessedly hot water flows out of the dual showerheads and over my body.

  Twenty minutes later I’m clean, warm and wearing Stone’s t-shirt. I walk into his bedroom and... candles. He’d lit candles and added mood music. Somewhere in the distance, a saxophone wails a seductive song. I stare at his bed. Should I? Shouldn’t I? The urge to undulate and attack his pillow is strong, but I fight it and move on. Should I read anything into this romantic theme? Naw. Maybe he’s metrosexual. Although, somehow, I can’t see Stone antiquing and sporting an ascot.

  Still not believing this man is real, I pad through his bedroom, sinking into carpet so thick you could swim in it. By contrast, as I exit the room, my feet cool on the hardwood floor in the kitchen. More candles. Everywhere.

  “Can I help?” I ask, approaching Stone’s broad back.

  Turning to face me, he says, “No I’ve—”

  “What?” Stone is staring at me like I’m a t-bone steak. I look down at myself self-consciously.

  “I, uh. You look like sex, I mean you look sexy in my t-shirt. I mean you always look good. You just look really good in my shirt,” he says, quickly turning back to the oven.

  Biting back, You’re full of shit, I instead say, “Um, thank you.”

  With his back to me, he says, “You can set the table if you’d like.”

  So I set the table and watch as Stone cooks. We make small talk and he still doesn’t turn around.

  Finally, when dinner is ready he turns, faces me, and smiles. He seems to have regained his composure. Again, I figure what I’d heard was a figment of my oversexed imagination.

  He sits me at the table and serves me, pouring my wine. Once he sits, we eat. The food is phenomenal and the wine is superb. Stone watches my every move. He watches me when I take a bite of food and when I bring the wine glass to my lips. His intensive gaze is heady and arousing.

  “How did you learn to cook like this?”

  “Being the only boy with a sister and mother who like to cook, I learned by osmosis.”

  “Ah. That explains a lot.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Geez, Louise! Every time I open my mouth I say something idiotic. Never one to let idiocy stop me, I forge on, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I just meant there aren’t many men who open and hold doors, pull out chairs and serve dinner anymore. I’ve been practically mowed down by men trying to get through a door before me. I now see where your gentlemanly ways come from.”

  “No need to apologize. I’m not easily offended. Yeah, you’re right. I’m a dinosaur among the masses, but my sister, mom and dad would kill me if I didn’t treat a woman like a lady.”

  “Well, don’t stop. It’s refreshing... and sexy,” I say, blushing.

  “Not as sexy as you are. I almost embarrassed myself when I saw you in my t-shirt. You took my breath away.”

  I sit in stunned silence. I can’t possibly be hearing this from the man I’ve been coveting from first sight. Hoping I wasn’t sitting there slack-jawed with my mouth hanging open like a dead fish, I shake myself out of the stupor I’m in.

  “Dance with me,” he says as he stands and reaches for my hand.

  Dance? Is there music playing? Oh, so there is. All I can hear are choirs of angels coming out of his mouth. Gathering my wits, I go straight to him. I find myself lost in a cloud of sensuality and it smells wonderful.

  Stone, continuing from earlier says, “I watch you at work. Your poise, elegance, intelligence and grace are mesmerizing. The way you walk, your curves....” He smiles and then states, “I always thought that you’re the kind of woman I’d want by my bed when I’m sick and in my bed when I’m not.”

  I swoon. Holy Cow! He has me, I think to myself. If this man used me up right here and now and tossed me in the trash like a snotty Kleenex, I’d be fine with it. But somehow I knew he wouldn’t. He’d be... different. At least I hoped.

  We dance chest-to-chest and thigh-to-thigh. We stay fused to each other for what feels like an eternity. I feel myself start to warm and soften and I feel his erection press against my stomach. If someone told me a bomb was about to blow up the shoe section at Saks I wouldn’t move a muscle. This is decadent, sinful and right.

  Chapter 3

  Dreams Come True

  Lost in my lust-filled haze, I’m completely unaware that we’ve danced ourselves right into his bedroom. Uh oh. Stone looks down at me, smiles and kisses me. As he seduces me with his skillful mouth, I feel butterflies. The kind you get with the first kiss. I love that feeling so I give myself up to the passion that is slowly consuming me. Tongues touching, he sups from my lips and I do the same.

  Slowly he lifts his t-shirt up my body and over my head. Momentary self-consciousness hits me. What if my body is a turn off? What if he isn’t as fond of my naked curves as he is when I’m fully clothed? Luckily I don’t have to worry as his whispered swearing lets me know he likes what he sees. He returns to my lips, ventures down my neck and slowly goes down to his knees to get to my breasts.

  Starting at the swell, he kisses his way down to my nipple. The flick of his tongue is like a shock of electricity, but it is nothing compared to the sweet sensation of him taking my nipple into his mouth. My moaning just seems to fuel his fire as he lavishes attention to my breast. I hold onto him, afraid that I’ll melt away into nothing. That I’ll quietly die from the exquisite torture he is inflicting on me.

  Stone moves lower, bathing my soft, round belly and thighs in tiny kisses. My panties were too wet to put back on after my shower, and for that I’m now grateful as that allows Stone complete access to my pussy. He pushes my feet apart, always being the gentle lover even with what he’s doing to me. He kisses the outside of my lips unencumbered because I’m shaved bare. As I relax against his mouth, he parts my lips and flicks his tongue over my clit. I stifle a scream. He continues his torture, licking and sucking at me like a starved man. As I steady myself against a highboy dresser, I hold his head and match his movements with my hips. With his hands on my hips, he laps and suckles until I cry out loud, not from reaching orgasm, but from the shear intensity.

  It occurs to me at this most inopportune moment that it’s been some time since I’ve had sex. What if I’m so rusty I don’t know what to put where? I think I know all the right moves, but maybe there have been some
add ons that I’m not aware of. “Stone,” I whisper quietly, about to confess that I may not be the best lover he’s ever had.

  He stands up I look into his green eyes and never want to leave the Never Never Land they take me to. Willing to risk possible embarrassment from my fumbling, I soldier on. I undress him, captivated by the body I’ve dreamed about and the sculpted arms I want to be held by.

  “I want you,” he says softly, “I want to be with you, beside you, in you as long as you let me.”

  A sigh escapes me and he kisses me with passion I didn’t know existed. He makes me feel beautiful. Not just a physical beauty, but an internal, bone deep beauty. I know at that instance that I’ve found the man I am meant to—born to—be with. Whether he feels the same, I refuse to give thought to.

  Stone lifts me as if I weigh no more than a dried leaf and carries me to the bed. As he lays me on my back, he makes no movement in haste; everything is savored, luxurious. Kissing the inside of my thighs, he moans words I can’t understand. As he raises each leg and kisses the backs of my knees, I moan words he can’t hear. No spot goes unattended. No spot goes unloved. My feet even get treated like royalty as he sucks on each toe. I can’t catch a breath. I feel as though I’m on fire, burning from the inside out. He pauses before lowering himself beside me. At that moment, even through our passion-induced fog, the word “condom” practically screams to be acknowledged. Stone reaches in his nightstand and produces five foil pouches.