by Amy Brent
My eyes took stock of her when she wasn’t looking. She really was gorgeous, with long red hair that cascaded around her shoulders, big blue eyes, the aforementioned lips. My eyes travelled southward, down the length of her long neck, the perfect tits beneath the silk blouse…
Wonderful.
Just wonderful.
I tried not to stare (or lick my lips too much) as she talked about her life and college (we both went to USC) and trying out for the Olympic volleyball team. She was an only child from a small town. She was a shy kid whose saving grace in school was being a killer athlete. We sat there for hours, or at least it seemed like it, getting to know each other. I was surprised at how much we had in common. And how much I liked her. And she seemed to like me.
Damn, I was gonna have to give Denny props.
Andrea was definitely a girl I wanted to know better.
At least for a little while.
Chapter 9: Andrea
“So, you’ve heard my life story,” I said after realizing that I’d been talking far more than Sammy had. “Now, let’s hear yours.”
Sammy sucked the last of his Dr. Pepper through the straw and gave the cup a shake to loosen the ice. He narrowed his eyes and looked toward the ceiling in thought. “Well, let’s see… like you, I was an only child, came from a small town, was a runt until puberty hit, then this happened.”
He swept his big hands through the hair like he was doing a magic trick and sat up straighter in the chair. Jesus, he was big. And beautiful. When he smiled, his entire face got involved. His eyes twinkled above his cheeks. He lips spread and his perfect teeth shined. The muscles in his jaws and shoulders flexed. I wondered what it would be like to sink my teeth into his neck…
“I went from five-nine to six-six in about a year,” he said, eyebrows arched, head nodding at the memory. “Growing pains were a bitch, but it stopped the bullying pretty quick.”
I frowned at the look of pain that came to his eyes. “You were bullied? I can’t imagine that.”
His forehead lined as he gave a slow nod. “Before puberty, I was a skinny kid with braces who always had his nose in a book. I was the school nerd, the one who made straight A’s without having to try. It infuriated the jocks and the stoners. I was beaten up, push into lockers, had my head dunked in the locker room toilet…”
“And after you—” I swirled my hands in the air. “Filled out, as you say?”
“Those bullies wanted to be my friends,” he said, the smile returning.
“And did you let them?”
He looked me in the eye for a moment, then the smile returned. “What do you think I did?”
“I think you probably paid them back for everything they did to you,” I said. “Probably in spades.”
He shrugged without answering, then glanced at his watch. “Oh crap!”
I blinked at him for a moment, then looked at my watch. “Oh crap is right. Have we been talking for two hours?”
“Either that or time sped up on us,” he said, pooching his lips like he was sad to see out time together come to an end. “I have a staff meeting to get to.”
“Oh, um, me, too,” I said, though I actually didn’t have any place to go. I started piling our trash onto the tray. “Well, this has been fun.”
“It has,” Sammy said, rattling the ice again. “Maybe we could continue our conversation later? Say, over dinner? Tonight?”
I felt my heart jump a little in my chest. Even though the thought of more food made my stomach churn, the thought of spending more time with Sammy made my toes tingle. I smiled demurely and said, “I’d like that.”
“Awesome,” he said, pushing himself back from the table. “Any preference as to the restaurant?”
“I’ll let you pick,” I said. “I’m a pretty basic girl when it comes to food. Although, I don’t eat anything I can’t pronounce.”
“That’s a great rule to live by.”
“I think so.”
“Okay, let me give it some thought and I’ll text you the plan. I’ll pick you up around eight-thirty at your place?”
“Yes,” I said, feeling my cheeks flush like a schoolgirl being asked out by the coolest boy in school. “That sounds lovely.”
“Lovely,” he said, a big smile on his face. He fished two fingers in his back pocket for a moment and came out with his card. “That’s my cell number. Text me your digits.”
“My digits?”
“Your digits. Your phone number and address?”
“Oh, yes, duh, I can do that.”
“Well, this has been fun,” he said, reaching across the table to take my hand. I thought he was going to shake my hand. Instead, he brought my knuckles to his lips and gave them a gentle kiss.
“Until we meet again, my lady.”
I playfully rolled my eyes. “Yes, sweet prince, until we meet again.”
He smiled at me. I smiled at him.
He got up to leave and I took out my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t used in a long time. I might have been jumping the gun a little, but better prepared than surprised.
“Hi, this is Andrea Nichols… Yes… I’m fine… I was wondering… Could I come in this afternoon… yes… for a bikini wax?”
Like my dad used to say, “Always keep the lawn trimmed because you never know who might be driving by.”
Enough said.
Chapter 10: Sammy
The rest of my day was just god-awful, unbelievably long and incredibly boring. I sat through half a dozen meetings, listened in on a dozen conference calls with international vendors, answered several dozen emails, and still could not tell you the topic of a single one. I tried by best to focus, but I simply could not pay attention to anything going on around me. My entire brain, every burnt-out cell of it, every thought, every idea, every notion, was quickly overridden by thoughts of Andrea Nichols.
I kept seeing her sitting across the cafeteria table from me… luscious red hair… big blue eyes… wide mouth… kissable lips... long neck… Then magically, her clothes disappeared and I was climbing across the table to ravage her right there in front of the lunch time crowd. Just thinking about her made my cock plump up in my pants, something a guy my size has a hard time hiding.
I even thought about stepping into my private bathroom to pump one out using the dirty video Carina had sent me for those times when I needed a little relief and she wasn’t around. In the video, Carina had a GoPro strapped to a giant dildo and was… well… never mind.
I spent the afternoon watching the clock and counting down the hours until I picked her up for our date. Our date… Shit, where the hell do you take a girl like Andrea? My social life consisted of drinking binges with the boys and long weekends at Club D with the girls. I wasn’t even sure I remembered what to do on a date, much less where to take a nice girl on one.
I sat with my desk chair turned toward the wall of windows and tried to remember the last time I had been on an actual date. Was it a year ago, that chick I met at that fundraising thing… No, we just fucked in the restroom after dinner. Wasn’t exactly what I’d call a date. Wait, there was that model a few months back, when I was in Cannes for the film festival. Yes, we went on a date… no, wait… she just gave me a blowjob in the back of the limo and nearly gagged on my… shit.
I had not had a date-date in years. I had no idea what to do or where to do it or how to act.
I needed help from a master.
I picked up the phone and called…
“Amy Rossetti,” the love of Isaac’s life said sweetly after her secretary patched me through. “Sammy? Is that you?”
“It is,” I said, clearing my throat, trying not to sound nervous. “I uh, well, I have a question that I hope you can answer. Or at least point me in the right direction.”
“Okay, is it about cybersecurity?” she asked. Cybersecurity was Amy’s area of expertise and there was nobody better at it. IDS and dozens of other companies paid her millions of dollars a year to help keep their data
safe. “Has something happened at IDS? You guys haven’t been hacked, have you?”
“No, no, nothing like that,” I said quickly. “It’s just that, well, I may have a... well, a date tonight and I have no idea where to take her.”
Amy giggled in my ear. “You may have a date or you do have a date?”
“I… have a date. And if you tell Isaac or Denny I’ll have to hunt you down and bear hug you to death.”
“Relax, big guy, your secret is safe with me,” she said. “So, who is the lucky girl?”
“Her name is Andrea Nichols.”
“Oh, I know Andrea. She’s Denny’s assistant marketing director… tall… very tall, in fact... red hair… gorgeous…” She hummed in my ear. “Good for you, Sam. She’s quite the looker. You two will make quite a couple.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” I huffed. “I mean, it’s just a date.”
“Sure, that’s how me and Isaac started out and look at us now. So, what were you thinking?”
I shrugged with the phone wedged between my ear and shoulder. “I honestly have no idea. Last time I was on a date the iPhone 4 was state of the art.”
“Oh my god, you’re such a nerd if that’s your point of reference,” she said, giggling again. “Okay, well, dinner is always a good idea. A girl has to eat. Do you know what kind of food she likes?”
“Uh, well, we had burgers and fries for lunch,” I said, exhaling loudly at my still-full belly. “She said she was a pretty basic kind of girl. She won’t eat anything she can’t pronounce.”
“Okay, so no French or anything fancy I’m guessing,” Amy said. “And I assume there’s no need to impress her with your money.”
I smiled. “No, I don’t think she’s that kind of girl.”
“Okay, well you had burgers and fries for lunch. How about seafood for dinner? A nice lobster? Shrimp? Salmon. The fresher the better.”
“That might work,” I said. “I’ll bet she loves seafood. There’s a Captain Dee’s near my house…”
“Uh, no.”
“No?”
“No, you don’t take a girl like Andrea Nichols to fucking Captain Dee’s on a first date,” she said as if she were scolding me for saying something totally ridiculous. I loved Captain Dee’s. I didn’t see the big deal.
She said, “It really has been a while since you had to impress a girl with anything other than your money, huh.”
“Yes, so shut up and help me.”
“Fine, okay, how about Fisherman’s Wharf? It’s wonderful and you can sit by the ocean and watch the tide come in while you eat.”
“Great,” I said, turning toward my computer to pull up Fisherman’s Wharf’s website to make an online reservation. “What then?”
“What then?”
“Yeah, after dinner. What do we do?”
“Well, Sam, do you think she’ll want to go back to your place?”
I felt my cheeks getting hot like a little boy caught beating his meat in the locker room (don’t ask why that analogy popped into my mind). “Well, Amy, I don’t know. I mean, do people do that on a first date?”
“Do what?” she asked. I could tell by her voice that she was smiling, fucking with me.
“Do that,” I said. “You know, have sex?”
“Jesus, Sammy, have you been going to Club D so long you’ve forgotten how to treat a woman who’s not on your payroll?”
I huffed in her ear. “Well, technically, she is on my payroll.”
“You know what I mean, you big dope,” Amy said, clicking her tongue. “I don’t think Andrea Nichols is going to give up the goods like those freak shows you guys have working at Club D.”
It wasn’t hard to detect the disdain in her voice when it came to the topic of Club D. Even though she and Isaac hooked up there when Amy snuck in a guest, she did not hold the place in too high esteem. Even Denny’s girl, Serena, who was working her way through college as a waitress at Club D, kept harping on Denny to sell his interest. We had already agreed to turn over ownership of Club D to a charitable trust. Obviously, it was not happening fast enough for Amy and Serena.
And that led to another thought…
Hmmm, wonder what Andrea would say if she knew we owned Club D and spent my weekends frolicking with the likes of Carina the Great… That was a secret she’d never have to learn if I had anything to do with it. Besides, if things worked out between us, I might never go back to Club D again. Other than to say goodbye to Carina one last time… Or two…
“Okay, so dinner at Fisherman’s Wharf, then we just play it by ear,” I said.
“There you go,” Amy said, her voice pleasant again. “And after dinner maybe you take a walk along the pier or go for a nice drive.”
“Or go back to her place and fuck each other’s brains out!”
“What the…” I held the phone away from my ear for a moment, scowling at it. I tapped the speaker button and growled into the phone. “Jesus Christ, Amy, is Isaac there with you? Am I on the fucking speaker phone?”
“He made me do it!” Amy said, giggling again.
“Hey there, big guy,” Isaac said, his amused voice coming through the little speaker. It made me want to crush the phone in my hands like it was his head. “Sorry, couldn’t help but overhear. Sounds like your lunch with Andrea went great! I was the one who suggested that Denny hook you up with her so you two could start your very own Land of the Giants. You’re very welcome!”
“Fuck you very much,” I said, shaking my head.
“Hey, if you need a condom there are some hefty bags under the sink in the kitchen,” Isaac said. “Use the ones with the draw string.”
“You’re an asshole, Isaac,” I said, holding the phone close to my lips. “I’m gonna kick your ass the next time I see you.”
“I’ll get help and kick your ass if you screw this up with Andrea,” he said. “This could be your one shot at a girl who can truly make you happy.”
“Whatever,” I growled, knowing he was right.
“Don’t whatever me, young man,” he said, cracking himself up.
“Sammy, just ignore him,” Amy said.
“I will,” I said angrily.
“And Sam?”
“Yes, Amy?”
“Go on home and take a shower and put on clean underwear. You never know where this night might lead.”
Chapter 11: Andrea
Talk about being a nervous wreck. I was usually cool as a cucumber (there’s that word again), but by the time I trudged through my afternoon of meetings and phone calls, rushed to the spa to have my cooch waxed (I left a little line of red curls just in case Sammy didn’t like his women totally bare, I know, presumptuous), then rushed home to shower and change (what the hell should I wear???), it was nearly time for Sammy to pick me up for our date. In fact, when the doorbell rang, I was still trying to get my hair to behave. I gave up and pulled it into a tight ponytail at the crown of my head, checked my reflection in the mirror one more time, then rushed to the door.
Whew, that was a lot of rushing…
When I opened the door, my heart nearly skipped a beat. There was Sammy Branniff in all his glorious flesh, all six-foot-six of him, shoulders almost as wide as the doorway, holding a bouquet of roses and a big smile on his face.
“Hi there,” he said, holding out the roses like he was passing the Olympic torch. “These are for you.”
“I assumed they were,” I said with a grin, taking the flowers and leaning in to give him a friendly hug. I had to get on my tiptoes to peck him on the cheek. It felt so weird. He was even taller than Pete. “You really didn’t have to bring me roses.”
“Well, my dating coach suggested that it would be a nice gesture,” he said, stepping inside so I could close the door behind him.
I smiled and frowned at the same time. “Your dating coach?”
“Coaches, actually,” he said, giving his eyes a little roll. “Isaac and Amy.”
“Ah, the lovebirds,” I said, holding
the roses to my nose so I could gaze at Sammy like a peeping Tom hiding in the bushes. He looked great, casually dressed in a blue button-down with the collar open and the sleeves rolled up. His shoulders were broad and round, his chest thick and full. The cotton of the sleeves stretched against his forearms and biceps. He was wearing loose-fitting jeans that hugged his muscular thighs. And there was no mistaking the outline of his… you know… bulging against the denim like another oversized muscle struggling to pop free.
“You look great,” he said, following me into the kitchen so I could put the roses in a vase with water. I could practically feel his eyes burning into my ass as he followed close behind. I had put on a pair of black slacks and high heels, with a sleeveless turquoise top that showed off my own tanned guns. I was planning on putting a waisted black jacket on to match the slacks. For some reason, the way Sammy was looking at me made me think that I was not going to need the jacket. Or the top. Or the slacks. Or the bra. Or the thong…
He put his hands behind his back—there was that bulge again—and rocked on the balls of his feet and gave me a look that started me melting in my panties.
The little voice in my head started screaming at the top of its lungs. Oddly enough, the little voice always sounded like my mother.
