by Kimber Chin
Anne bit her lip. She didn't get one of these offers often. As much as she liked to be seen as a coach or mentor, the kids slotted her into the off limits teacher category.
"It's a celebration,” Dirk called out, “Tan got promoted to supervisor."
"Dirk!” The girl's color heightened even more.
"Tanya, good for you.” Anne was proud. The job wasn't merely a way for the teenager to make some spare cash, she considered it the start of her restaurant career. “I knew you'd be good at it."
"You did.” Brown hair bobbed. “That's why I want you to come, Miss James. And don't worry. It won't cost that much. I get an employee discount and when I asked, the manager said I could use it for the class tonight."
The timid girl had asked her manager. This was a big deal for Tanya. Anne should...
She tilted her head to study Philippe. Yes, she did say that tonight they'd be on her schedule but after two hours with her class, Anne didn't want to push it.
"I haven't had a great hamburger in a while, vraiment.” Philippe read her mind. “Are the burgers there any good?"
"Man, they're so good, I could eat three.” Dirk stretched, rubbing his flat stomach. “Oh, wait, I usually do."
"As a snack,” Tanya added knowingly, making Anne laugh. Dirk was a bottomless pit.
"Ahhh ... a good hamburger and an employee discount, aussi, what more could we want? In-N-Out it is then. We'll have to put this in the car first.” Philippe hoisted the box easily on his shoulder, balancing it with one hand. “Do you want us to meet you there?"
"What're you driving?” car-crazy Dirk asked.
"A Maybach 62,” Philippe said that like it meant something.
Anne guessed it did. The boy's eyes went big. “You're shitting me!"
"Non, I assure you I'm not,” the man's tone was grave.
"Wow, come on Tan, we gotta check it out.” Dirk slung his backpack over a slumped shoulder.
Was the car something special? Anne knew nothing about them except that they took her from point A to point B and broke down at the most inconvenient times.
"The Maybach didn't impress you, did it?” Philippe's free arm brushed up against hers as they walked.
"Was that the point?"
Philippe nodded. This sexy dynamic man wanted to impress her. Difficult as that was to believe.
"The seats were nice.” Anne's comment sounded lame, even to herself.
Dirk snorted, exchanging a disgusted look with Philippe. Philippe then proceeded to give Dirk a run down on his car's, this fancy Maybach, specs, numbers and stats that meant little to Anne, but excited the boy.
"So what are your other cars?” Dirk was deep into his favorite topic as Philippe stuffed Anne's teaching supplies into the trunk.
"No other cars.” Philippe's answer surprised Anne. She, too, assumed he had a garage full of Jaguars and Mercedes and other fancy vehicles. “I'm a one car man. One car, one house, one woman."
One woman? Liar. But wait, Lamont doesn't lie. He was known for his cutting honesty. So what about Suzanne?
"But you're loaded,” Dirk pointed out.
"Oui, but I have no need for more.” Philippe squeezed Anne's hand. How did her hand get in his? When had that happened? “The power of focus, you know."
"That's what Miss James says all the time,” Tanya piped up happily from behind Anne. “Focus on one thing until it's accomplished."
"You should listen to her.” Philippe winked at a confused and slightly fuzzy-headed Anne, a lazy smile on his own face. “Your teacher knows a lot."
Knows a lot? He had to be joking. Anne didn't have a clue. She lost control of this situation hours ago. She didn't know how to regain it. She didn't even know if she wanted to.
A little over an hour later, that lack of control led to them being jammed into a corner booth, extra tables dragged across the restaurant to accommodate the noisy teenagers. Somehow, Anne ended up sitting on Philippe's lap, her legs dangling off the ground. A couple of the girls were in the same situation with their boyfriends. It seemed natural and she guessed it would be if Philippe was her boyfriend.
Which he wasn't. Sure, most of the kids thought so especially after Philippe held her hand on the short walk to the restaurant. She didn't have the heart to pull it away, not in front of so many curious eyes. That would have been rude, wouldn't it?
Then Philippe bought not only Anne's meal but the meals for the entire class, making a big deal out of using Tanya's employee discount, the girl's fragile confidence blossoming under his praise.
What could Anne do then? There hadn't been room in the booth for all of them and she couldn't tell him to find his own seat elsewhere. So when Anne was pulled into Philippe's lap, she didn't slap his face as she should have. Nope, she let that happen too.
She even let the dinner conversation spin without her usual input, Dirk dominating it with stories about his 1973 Gremlin, the car he had been restoring for months. Finishing off three doubles at the same time involved a lot of talking with his mouth full, grossing out both Tanya and herself.
Philippe paid no attention to the exposed half chewed food, listening intently and asking questions, every once in a while popping a French fry into Anne's mouth and passing her their shared chocolate shake to slurp on. He was being as nice as nice could be and as a result, Anne was in big, big trouble. He was difficult enough to resist when in his cold-hearted bastard mode but this soft Philippe was impossible.
And if she had these feelings while in a room full of kids, what was going to happen when they were finally alone? When they were alone, he would kiss her, Anne knew, he'd kiss her good night and then what? Could she stop there? It didn't look good for that possibility. She wanted him too much to hold back. Anne wiggled nervously, her body heating up from her thoughts.
"Unless you want to give the kids something to talk about,” Philippe whispered in her ear, his warm breath upon her neck, “you'd better stop moving."
Oh, geez, Anne stilled immediately. Philippe bit her earlobe and then applied himself to the conversation. His fingers flayed over her stomach, his thumb pressing between her breasts. Yep, Philippe Lamont's hand between her breasts. That made her bottom twitch and she shifted. Wrapping things up quickly.
"Anne and I have to get going. We have things to do.” She could imagine what those things were. “Dirk, here's my e-mail.” Philippe flipped the boy a crisp white business card. “Keep me updated on how it goes with the car. I'm not shitting you about that either. Tanya, you were right, it was a great burger, a burger to be proud of. Merci et felicitations."
The girl moved so they could get out, Philippe sliding over until Anne hopped off his lap. There was a chorus of happy good-byes as they wandered out of the restaurant, again hand in hand.
Anne paused outside the door, eyes blinking. It had gotten dark all of a sudden. The stars would be out. But she didn't have time to look up at them. She was pulled toward the car and almost pushed in the front seat. Philippe filled the driver's seat, his face dark and intense, and put the key in the ignition. He didn't turn it. Instead, he slid his seat right back.
"Cherie." The endearment was more a groan, as he reached for her, his hands on both sides of her face, his lips finding hers. Not a soft, innocent first kiss but hard and punishing, making her lips pulse and burn. He forced her mouth open, his tongue filling the space, searching.
They broke with a gasp, chests heaving. They kissed and now? What would happen now? No looking far to find the answer. It was in Philippe's glowing eyes. Everything. They would do everything. He wouldn't stop until he had her completely.
And Anne felt the same. She wanted him; she needed him. Her lips met his this time, expressing this need, giving him permission to do with her what he would. Anne wrapped her hands around his neck and let him drag her back to his seat, shifting her so she straddled him.
He was hard already, straining against his pant fabric towards her heat. I did that to him, Anne thought in wonderment, made th
is handsome man hard. She rubbed against him and his eyes rolled back, his mouth pulled into a grimace. Philippe's mouth. This couldn't be happening. It was a dream, it had to be, and in her dreams, she was always fearless. As she was now, Anne moved back and forth, back and forth, riding Philippe fully clothed.
Not that she remained fully clothed for long. Philippe fumbled with the tiny buttons down her sleeveless blouse. Finally frustrated at the slow progress, he pulled the fabric apart, popping them off. The cool air was a blast of unwelcome reality against her skin bringing Anne to her senses. What am I doing? With Philippe? She wasn't his type. No amply endowed beauty queen like the women Philippe normally cavorted with. He would find her lacking...
"Cherie, you are so ... so..."
Anne's breath caught. Small? Disappointing?
"Perfect."
Perfect? Me? Anne braved a peek. His words didn't lie. Philippe's face shone with appreciation and no small amount of desire. While looking his fill, he scooped her silk and lace covered breasts with gentle hands, kneading them until her nipples ached. The front-closed bra was easily discarded, and his mouth found first one breast and then the other, teasing them, his tongue swirling.
At that point, all Anne's thoughts and worries vanished.
Philippe, on the other hand, tried desperately to hold onto rational thought. He had been thinking about this, touching Anne, loving this little brown sparrow, all day and was ready, too blasted ready.
He needed a distraction and fast. Multiplication tables. That worked for him before. It would take his mind off her. Merde, mais she felt so good. One multiplied by one is...
Anne bucked against him, back arching as he licked her berry-kissed nipples, dark and lovely, her breasts like ripe fruit under his lips. So sweet, so responsive.
Non, don't think about that. Concentrate. Seven multiplied by eight ... Mon Dieu, was she undoing his belt? For his sanity, Philippe had to stop that. He had to. He kissed her hard on the lips.
Anne moaned into his mouth, her tongue twisting around his. “Touch me, Philippe."
What could he do? He had been told. He had to obey. If he could hold out for a few more ... What about division? Division was difficult.
Merde, merde, merde. Was that his pants being unzipped, freeing him, soft yet firm fingers curling around him? And at her touch, Philippe's thin thread of control snapped. He was too hard, too far along. It wasn't right, he tried to capture her hands, those magic hands. “Anne, I can't.” He grimaced.
What could he tell her? That he, Philippe Lamont, an experienced and normally disciplined lover, was going to cum instantly like he was one of those hormone raging, teenage boys she taught? But that was going to happen and there was nothing he could do about it, there was no room in his thoughts for anything other than the little brown sparrow astride him.
Her hands kept pumping him relentlessly, the pressure just right. “Anne, oh, Anne.” She rode against him, his hands squeezing her cloth covered buttocks. So round, so...
Then it was done. Merde, he disgraced himself, a hot sticky mess in her hand. Philippe couldn't bear to look at Anne, unable to take the certain disappointment on her face. He was so selfish, thinking only of himself, his great uncontrollable need.
Her bare breasts brushed against his cheek as she reached to get Kleenex from the back seat.
"I'm so sorry, Cherie,” and he was. Sorry and confused. That hadn't happened to him in years. Why now? Why with Anne? When making a good impression was so important to him? Why was making a good impression important to him? Pride, that must be it.
"You're sorry? You didn't enjoy it?” She paused, as if uncertain about the answer.
Anne knew blasted well he enjoyed it. The proof was in her hand. “I did, bien sur."
"Then why are you sorry?"
Oui, she did sound relieved, her light touch cleaning him up, patting his underwear back in place. She neatly placed the used tissues in the waste basket.
"Why? Because I, ahh, I.” Philippe didn't know what to say. She knew why. Would she make him say it, make him admit his failing? Would she now use this weakness against him?
"I'm the one who's sorry.” His heart dropped at her words. Of course, she'd be sorry. He had fucked up, big time. “You didn't stand a chance, you poor man. I should have warned you."
"Warned me?” What crazy twist was this? Philippe summoned up the courage to glance at Anne. That glance extended into a longer searching stare. Shouldn't Anne be distraught? She wasn't. In fact she looked like she was damn proud of herself.
"Oh, yeah, I should have warned you. You see, it couldn't have ended any other way. You were powerless to resist me,” Anne declared smugly. “I have skills.” She settled against his body, placing his arms around her, facing the windshield.
"You do, do you?” Philippe didn't know what else to say. What could he say? Anne sounded so confident that he was starting to think her responsible. Could she be? Could she have planned all this?
"Yep, mad skills.” Anne nodded, rubbing her silky hair into his dress shirt. He didn't even have it unbuttoned, it all happened so quickly. “And I guess that I should ‘fess up completely and warn you that tonight was only a sampling of those skills."
"There's more?” he squeaked. He could have sworn she wasn't that experienced. Could this woman possibly teach him a thing or two? Non. Impossible. Or was it?
"You don't mind, do you?” If Philippe wasn't mistaken, there was a bit of laughter in her voice.
She was teasing him, oui? Ou non? Philippe didn't know. After tonight, Philippe wasn't too sure about anything anymore. “I don't mind, at all.” And he should do something for Anne. That would be the right thing, the gentlemanly thing to do. Philippe stroked her breasts. He couldn't say that his heart was in it, his lack of restraint perturbing him, but he'd do it. He wouldn't leave her unsatisfied.
Anne, that mind reading, control sapping seductress, knew. She restrained his hand. “Next time, Philippe. Next time, it'll be all about me."
Next time? There will be a next time? The thought shouldn't have made Philippe smile, his plan was for a one night stand, but it did. Next time, one more time and Anne's mad skills. Despite his suspicions over her motives, he would gladly risk everything for one more time with Anne. One more time to redeem himself.
"Vraiment, Cherie?” He looked down at her relaxed happy face, insecure and seeking her confirmation.
"Oh, yes.” Anne yawned. “Next time, I'll demand my satisfaction. You know that I always get what I want."
Philippe hugged her close. “You do.” And he was determined that in this, she would.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Six
Anne's satisfaction had to wait. The next day, Philippe was called away to Chicago on urgent company business. Some fire-fighting with a big bank, sucking up the entire week.
It wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Things were happening too quickly. Not Anne's style, not at all. She wasn't one for jumping into a relationship, even if that relationship consisted only of business and sex. No, Anne welcomed the slow-down. It gave her time to think. Of course she should be thinking about what Philippe's strategy was, rather than how good his lips felt on hers. That would have been a better plan.
"Wine tasting?” Anne indicated the trays of filled Dixie cups circulating the convention center, as she munched on a chocolate covered strawberry.
Nancy wrinkled up her freckled nose. “Nah, none for me today."
"What?” Anne's eyes flew wide open in surprise. Her friend was never one to turn down high quality alcohol, and the vintners certainly didn't sample the cheap stuff. “Nance, are you feeling okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm feeling fine. I'm not that big of a lush, thank you very much.” Her friend looked around at the grid of vendor displays, hand holding, dreamy eyed couples filling the spaces like grout between tiles. “When you asked if I wanted to do something different today, Anne, I never guessed you meant this. Not that I'm complaining—any excuse
to go to one of these things—but what exactly is our excuse? You got a fiancé I don't know about?"
"As if I could, Snoopy Snoop.” Anne picked up a pamphlet at a photographer's booth, scanned it quickly and put it back down again. “No, this is strictly work."
"Work?” and then understanding dawned. "Ahhhh, for Lamont?” Nancy waved off the over zealous vendor. “That makes more sense. So what business is it? Please tell me it's a florist. I haven't received fresh flowers in a while."
Anne made a mental note to drop the suggestion in Nancy's husband Ted's ear. “Nope, nothing with so many perks, I'm afraid. This one's a guest management website."
"You're not joking. Not exciting at all.” Nancy flipped the program open to the exhibitor directory. “What's the name?"
"Be My Guest.” Though the name was a little cutesy, Anne liked it. “She's not displaying today, and the owner should be here networking.” That much she found out from the woman's voicemail message. The information prompted this spur-of-the-moment field trip, a chance to watch the owner in action.
"Okay, Einstein.” The redhead picked up a free pen from a financial planning booth and slid it into her purse. Their office supplies were heavily supplemented with schwag, an attempt to keep costs down. “Do you know where we might find her?"
"Nope."
"Or even what this owner looks like?"
Anne shrugged. That was the problem, she didn't. “I figured we'd ask someone."
"Why ask someone, girlfriend, when you can ask wonderful me?” a boyish voice flounced from behind them.
"Stanley,” they both squealed at once. A flurry of hands off hugs and butterfly kisses were exchanged.
"Finally, I get some love.” The slightly built platinum blond man pouted. “I saw the two of you sashay right by my marvelous booth and thought, oh, no you didn't. You didn't just ignore Stanley Harper."
Nancy and Anne looked at each other in horror. They hadn't noticed him or his display. They must have been too pre-occupied with chatting. Nancy supplied the excuse. “We knew you were working"
