by Amy Brent
“Look, Danielle,” he said after an awkward silence. “I know I came on a little strong last night, and I wanted to apologize. You’re new to the city, so I was hoping to take you out for a little while, you know, show you the sights and everything. I’ll be the perfect gentleman, though! I promise!”
A small, dim part in the back of my mind went, But I don’t want you to be a gentleman! But I ignored it. Instead, I smiled, and said, “Of course, sir. That sounds lovely.”
“And don’t call me sir! It’s Roger, okay? Roger!”
“Yes…Roger. Where and when should I meet you?”
There was a soft laugh on the phone, which told me he was smiling. “Don’t worry about that,” he said. “I’ll pick you up. How does noon sound? Can you be ready?”
I glanced at the clock. I had 3 hours to eat and get ready – time I was going to need. What the hell does one wear while touring New York with a billionaire? Either way, I told him ‘yes.’
“Excellent! See you later!” He burst, then hung up. Immediately, I jumped out of bed and ran to my closet, both terrified and jubilant at the same time. All the way I kept thinking, You didn’t fuck it up! So this time, get it right!
Chapter 9
Roger
My day with Danielle was wonderful. It was so refreshing to see someone actually enthralled with New York City. She was so excited and astounded by it all, and her naiveté never got annoying or rubbed me the wrong way. In fact, I found myself engaging in each new discovery along with her, as if I was experiencing it for the first time. We went to all the biggies: the Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty, and even Broadway. I took her to see Phantom of the Opera. I thought it would put her in the mood (as it does for so many women, for reasons I’ve yet to understand) and it doesn’t hurt with the ladies that I could afford to buy mezzanine tickets at the door. Danielle was of course enchanted with the show, and wouldn’t stop thanking me.
“I’m enjoying our time together,” I explained. “I really am. Most of the people I spend time with are business-hardened assholes, to be frank. But you…”
I didn’t need to finish. I could tell by her smile that she could tell from my smile exactly what I meant.
With all the amazing things crammed into it, the day passed into a blur, and we soon found ourselves at one of the many exclusive restaurants I frequented (until this point, almost always along or with business colleagues) drinking top-of-the-line champagne and nibbling on caviar. It was a test, you see. I wanted to determine if, after showing Danielle some of my astounding wealth, she’d shift her interest from me to the contents of my wallet. But she never did. She enjoyed every one of my gifts, sure, but she always turned her focus to getting to know me, asking questions about my life.
As a rich man, let me tell you this: that is the most priceless thing in the world.
As we popped another bottle, I realized that I could, yes, take Danielle home that very evening, but I decided to wait. I’d almost screwed everything up on that first encounter, and I wanted to, this time, do things right. So, when the evening drew to a close, I had Gregory take us to her apartment. I opened the door for her myself, led her up to the stoop, and kissed her, ever so lightly, on the mouth.
“Goodnight,” I said, flashing a wink and a cocky grin.
“G-goodnight!” She squeaked. From the flush of her cheeks and the brightness of her eyes, I could tell she was practically dizzy with pleasure.
And then I left, feeling immensely proud, because, you see, I not only was perfectly mannered, but I also left her wanting more.
I whistled to myself in contentment the whole ride home.
* * *
The weekend passed in a happy blur, and I greeted Monday morning with far more enthusiasm that I think anyone in the history of man. I felt alive again, as if I’d spent the last several years wandering around in a dull fog only to emerge on a bright and glorious summer’s day. Maggie must have noticed, for she was unusually cheerful as well, chatting with me all through breakfast, waiting for Danielle to arrive.
I expected her to burst in, cherry-cheeked and vibrant. Maybe she’d rush over and kiss me, sweeping her arms around my neck. Or maybe she’d try to be ‘professional’, and wait until Maggie was out of sight to sneak a snuggle.
What I did not expect was her to shuffle in twenty minutes late, her hair and make-up a mess, and her eyes red and puffy.
“Danielle! What’s wrong?” I was about to exclaim, but Maggie beat me to it.
“Oh, I just had a fight with a friend,” she responded sadly.
Maggie frowned. “About what?”
Danielle sighed, then crouched down so she was eye-to-eye with Maggie.
“Well…when you have friends, especially adult friends, they can often disagree with your choices. And I do believe it is your duty as a friend to share when you think the other is doing something wrong, or dangerous. Condemn the decision. But what you shouldn’t do is make your friend feel terrible about herself. You see?”
Maggie nodded, then gave Danielle a hug. It touched me to see my daughter acting so maturely. Obviously, she and Danielle got along really well.
Together, the two prepared for school while I got ready for work. I wanted to go right over to Danielle and talk about what was going on immediately, but I got the sense that she wanted to wait. At least she seemed a little cheered up by the time Maggie departed.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I whispered, leaning in close. Despite her disarray, she smelled wonderful.
“Later,” she said, wiping her eyes.
“Okay, then,” I said patiently. “Tonight?”
She held out her hand, and gripped mine gently.
“Tonight,” she said.
* * *
To my surprise, I was very productive at work. I guess I figured that if I was busy, time would go more quickly, and I would get to see Danielle sooner.
Hold on there, Roger, a stern sounding thought voiced. Aren’t you going in a little fast? Getting in a little too deep?
But I brushed it off. So what if I was acting like an inexperienced school boy? I was having fun, for the first time in years.
At long last, my work day ended, and I rushed home, eager to find Danielle and Maggie working on her homework. The two greeted me cordially enough. Maggie even went so far to tell me about a new project she was working on. It pleased me that Danielle was doing so well as a nanny, and I couldn’t help but beam at the pair.
After many smiles, and several inside jokes between Maggie and Danielle that both pleased me and made me a little jealous, my daughter went to bed, leaving me and her nanny alone.
I went to the liquor cabinet, figuring white wine is the perfect remedy for most fights with friends.
“Okay, Danielle,” I said. “Tell me about it.”
After a sip of her drink, she poured out the story:
She had gone home happy after her date, she told me. Thrilled. Excited. Even horny, she admitted with a blush. But then her roommate, Veronica, confronted her.
“She told me that I was stupid and selfish, getting involved with an…an…”
“An older man?”
“Yes,” she said, and I saw tears starting in the corners of her eyes. “And my boss.”
I shifted closer to her, and put my hand on her shoulder.
“And what do you think? Do you feel stupid and selfish?”
Her eyes flared up at me, showing that strength and fire I knew was there. “No!” She said. “Naive, maybe…Even reckless. But…I don’t think it’s stupid. And I don’t think you’re taking advantage of me. Are you?”
I smiled, and pulled her close against my chest. “Danielle,” I said, “we will do nothing you do not want to do. I simply want to spend time with you, no matter what we do. If you don’t want to spend time with me, just let me know, and I promise to never bother you again. You and Maggie can work together, and we’d be purely professional.”
She nuzzled close. I felt h
er hand slip beneath my jacket and touch my chest through the thin linen of my undershirt. “But I do want to spend time with you!” She declared. “I…really enjoy it. And I…I don’t usually fall for guys.”
I chuckled. Of course she wouldn’t be falling for just any guy. She was too good for that.
“I really enjoy spending time with you too,” I whispered. Then, ever so gently, I reached out and touched my fingers to the bottom of her chin, lifting up her lips until they were millimeters from my own.
I kissed her. The effect was immediate, warm and overwhelming, like leaping into a dark and tropical sea. She pressed against me, her hands growing frantic as they struggled to squirm between the buttons of my shirt, to touch the warmth of my skin.
I was more controlled, but no less passionate. My hands went to her shoulders, sweeping the softness of her hair away from the skin of her neck. She trembled. I could feel her heart beating through the hollow of her throat. Then, my palms slid down her shoulders. The gauze of her sleeves rasped against soft, creamy skin, and I could feel her growing more passionate with every touch.
My jacket was wrenched off, tossed carelessly on the couch beside us and ignored. Feeling how clumsy she was with my buttons, I paused my caressing of her body to undo them. As I bared my torso, I saw a hungry, determined look on Danielle’s face that showed that, no matter how hesitant she seemed, she desired me.
And I desired her. I did not yet try to take her shirt off. Moving too quickly would scare her. So this time, rather than putting my hands back on her shoulders, I looped one around the back of her neck, and I put the other on her breast.
She gasped. I could feel her nipple hardening through the thin fabric of her bra. Not sure how rough she liked it, I began massaging gently, first with my palm and then with my fingertips. Her gasps turned into moans, and before I knew it all tension had flown out of her, falling backwards on my first hand and lifting her breasts to me. Her eyes were dewy, her lips parted and glistening.
I lowered her against the couch. Automatically, her legs spread, and even through all our clothing, I could feel the heat of desire radiating there. I took the hand from her neck, ran it down the length of her body, and, through the fabric of her pants, pressed down between her legs.
“Oh!” She moaned, her back arching, her eyes rolling back into her head. I smiled, loving how easy it was to please her, how she responded to each of my caresses as if every sense was electrified.
I unbuckled her pants, revealing little white panties with red hearts on them. My smiled broadened. Then, I took a single finger, pressed it right at the top of the band, then ran it down, down, down to the hot wetness dampening the cloth…
“Ah! Wait!” Danielle protested suddenly, twisting away from me as if I’d scalded her.
“What? What is it?” I thought, in my head thinking, Not again!
She sat up, looking at me with such anguish that I saw she was close to tears.
“I’m so sorry!” She stammered. “So, so sorry!”
I sighed deeply, shifted away from her so she couldn’t see the massive erection that had formed under my pants. “I’m sorry, too,” I struggled out. “I don’t know what my problem is, how I could keep misreading the signals…”
“No!” She exclaimed, and this time I did see tears fall. “It’s not you, Roger. It’s me!”
I frowned giving her a look that clearly said, Come on.
“No, really!” She insisted. “It’s just that I…I, uh…”
“What’s the matter?” I asked. “It’s okay. You can tell me.” And all the while my head spun, wondering what on earth could have made her react like this, twice. Was she ill? Herpes? A victim of rape? Actually a man? All the strange scenarios flitted through my brain like bats, until all I foresaw was one terrible blur.
“I…” She started, not meeting my eyes. “I…am a virgin.”
“Ha!” I laughed out loud. I couldn’t help it. Here I was, expecting all these appalling things, and now her answer was this! A virgin!
Danielle, apparently, didn’t share my relief, for as soon as she heard me laugh she winced as if I’d struck her. “Sorry, Roger,” she repeated, scrambling to her feet, making a beeline to the door. In an instant, I realized my mistake, and rushed to apologize.
“No, wait! Danielle, wait!”
She turned and glared at me, tears and fire in her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I wasn’t laughing at you! It’s just thought, when you were so hesitant, I thought you were going to tell me something horrible! But this! Danielle. Sweet, beautiful, young Danielle. It is okay to be a virgin.”
She blinked at me, dabbing at her eyes. “You…you’re still interested?” She asked.
I laughed again, and this time she didn’t recoil.
“Interested? Of course I am! Why on earth would you being a virgin make me not interested?”
She glanced nervously around the room. “Well, it means I’m inexperienced, and that...I might not be any good.”
I smiled, rising to my feet. “If you’re as good in bed as you are at nannying, then we have nothing to worry about. Besides, I can teach you. Sometimes inexperience can be the best thing, because it means you don’t have any bad habits to break.”
“Really?” She asked.
“Really,” and I swept her into a hug.
We stayed there for a minute, with her pressed against my naked chest, and my arms around her. After a while, she pulled away, stood on tiptoe to kiss me, and then whispered, “So, then…back to the couch?”
I winked. “No, Danielle. Since you’re a virgin, we’re going to do this right. To the bedroom!”
Chapter 10
Danielle
Just like that, he swept me off my feet, and carried me down the hallway. I gasped, at once nervous and joyous, and he kicked open the door, bore me inside, and then lay me gently on the bed.
Then, he stepped back, looking at me with such passion and obvious longing that I started being less afraid.
“So, teacher,” I joked. “Teach me.”
“Well, first,” he said as he reached down and began unbuttoning my shirt. “Fucking with certain clothes on can be really sexy. There’s a sense of immediacy to it, and naughtiness. However, for a fine girl like you, when losing your virginity, you deserve it the most natural way: naked.”
As he finished, he ripped my shirt over my head with a flourish. Eager to show that I was obeying his lesson, I unsnapped my bra and flung it off the bed.
For the first time in my life, my breasts were exposed to the sight of a man. I bit my lip, feeling both nervous and proud of my daring.
“Beautiful,” he said, then he leaned down, cupped one in his hand, and placed my nipple in his mouth.
“Oh!” I moaned, feeling wetness trickling between my legs. I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him close, as the stubble on his chin tickled my chest and pleasure burst from his lips.
“Some people,” he said, taking a break to kiss all around my breasts. “Have really over-sensitive or under-sensitive nipples. It’s important to find out.” His mouth closed over my second nipple, and another burst of pleasure surged through me. After a moment he relinquished and smiled. “I think it’s safe to say that you enjoy that?”
“Yes,” I gasped, nodding eagerly. Now he had his mouth on one nipple, and his hand on the other, and I found myself melting into the sheets. I was clay to be molded by his touch.
Then, he went to my pants.
He was gentle but firm, looping his fingers around the edge of my pants and pulling them down the length of my thighs. I gasped again, more out of the sudden coolness of the air than anything else, especially on the wetness between my thighs. His fingertips caught the band of my panties and peeled them away, as if he were unwrapping a present. My pussy was now exposed before him, sopping wet and all. With a grin, he shifted me up the bed, and then lay down on his stomach, right between my knees.
I realized in that moment what he
intended to do.
Please, I thought. Oh, please. Let it be okay. Let me taste okay. Let him like it.
Then, his tongue dipped into me, and it obliterated all thought.
Minutes passed. I felt his tongue sliding into me, and then up and around my clit. The pleasure was at once both soft and overwhelming, like being fully immersed in a pool of pleasure. I felt the orgasm coming like a storm in the night, brewing and gathering power until striking me with a torrent of ecstasy.
As I lay on the bed, gasping, Roger emerged, looking rather smug with the outcome. He stood, and began undoing his own pants.
“It’s important to know,” he said, sounding like a professor at a lecture hall, even as his pants fell away to reveal black boxes and a bulging presence that drew my eye like a magnet. “That how much pleasure a woman gets out of sex usually depends on how wound up she is. Meaning, all the skills I unleash on you now will feel even better than if I were to do exactly the same thing before you were revved up and soaking.”
I smiled at him, thankful for his wisdom, paying close attention to what he said – until he slid his boxers away.
“Whoa,” I muttered, sitting up. I couldn’t help it. The dick before me was enormous and rock hard, erected at a perfect forty-five degree angle from his body. I stared. Its bulb-like tip, pink with flushing. That long, thick shaft, textured with the hardness of his veins. It seemed to go on forever, leading all the way down to nicely trimmed, dark hair and large, full balls.
