He was still moving, hugging me tight, “Yes, pretty baby, I want you to come for me again. You feel so good around me. So tight, hot, slick…I’ve missed being inside you, Sarah.” His kisses were deeper, more aggressive and I responded in kind. My heart was still racing from my first orgasm when the second one bowed my body tight.
“God, you’re so beautiful, Sarah. When you come, you tighten so hard around me, milking me. Yes, baby, deep breaths…I want you to come again for me. Let me bring you back up again. I want to see it again.” He slid his knees up, propping the backs of my thighs on his. Decklan went up on his hands and powered into me so hard, he would have pushed me across the bed if he didn’t have a vice grip on my hips.
“Decklan, oh my god…”
“Play with your hard nipples for me, Sarah…let me watch while I fuck you hard.” I lifted my hands to my breasts, the nipples aching for stimulation. I rolled them between my finger and thumb, tugging at them until they were tight and distended.
“You have such gorgeous breasts, Sarah. I was very bad to grab them within thirty seconds of meeting you but…for some reason, I couldn’t resist. The way I act with you is so different from everyone else.” His thrusts were faster, harder and I felt my entire body drawing tight as another climax rocketed through me, my hands cupping my breasts and biting my lower lip. “That’s it, pretty baby…coming so hard for me.”
Decklan sat back on his heels and picked me up to him, my legs wrapped around his ass, our chests together. Not moving, his hands roamed over my body. He smoothed my hair away from my damp face, gathering it all together in a twist. “Your hair is stunning, Sarah. It doesn’t matter how you wear it, it still looks so pretty. Even in a ponytail under a baseball cap.” He lowered his mouth to mine and I ran my hands into the hair at the base of his neck. Using my teeth, I nipped his lips and tongue, stroking inside his mouth and marveling at the warmth and taste of him.
After a long time, I pulled back to look at him. “You’re so deep like this, Decklan.” I was stroking his skin and watching him carefully. I honestly couldn’t decipher the look on his face.
“I want you to feel me as deep as possible, so you remember your pleasure…your happiness are important, Sarah.” He started lifting me and dropping me back down on his cock, the head tapping at my womb with each down stroke. “You feel so good, Sarah. So damn good.” His big hands were on my ass, gripping me as he moved me on him.
“Decklan…come with me this time,” I whispered, wrapping my arms around him and putting my face in his neck. “You smell so good, Deck. Please come with me.”
He laid me down on the bed again and slipped his arms under my back, his hands gripping the backs of my shoulders, his weight on his elbows. His eyes stayed on mine as he thrust into me, and I felt a strange shift inside me. I’d had sex with more people than I cared to count, but this was the closest I’d ever felt to another person.
It was intimate and made my heart race. I raked my fingers back through his soft dark hair, pulling him down for a kiss. I poured what I was feeling into it, knowing it was the only way I’d ever say it.
Decklan’s thrusts sped up, his hips rocking into me, pushing me closer and closer to climax. I took my lower lip between my teeth, watching him above me, my hands moving over his upper body. As the tension built, I dropped my legs to the bed and used my heels to power up and meet his thrusts. His eyes drifted shut for a moment as he met the impact of our hips.
“Oh god, Sarah…baby…” His grip on my shoulders tightened and he was using more force, our hips meeting almost painfully as I felt the pressure building, pushing out from my womb. “Yes, yes, come for me, pretty Sarah, yes…”
I came so hard I couldn’t do anything but scream his name, my body locked around his cock, rising to touch as much of my skin to him as I could. Three hard thrusts and he was roaring above me, coming inside me, the veins in his neck and arms prominent on his skin. My name on his lips over and over as his thrusts became short and firm, pumping until he was dry.
He collapsed over me, my hands stroking his back while we waited for our breathing to even and our hearts to slow. When I felt like I could speak, I whispered, “Thank you, Decklan.”
When he would have lifted to look at me, I held him still, hugging him and hiding my face in his neck, waiting for the emotions I was feeling to pass. He went to roll away and I kept him with me, “Wait. Not yet. The regular world will be back in play in five minutes. I just need five minutes, Decklan.”
Decklan stretched out and put his face in my hair, tightening his arms around me. “Sarah…”
“Ssh, Deck, you don’t have to say anything. I know all the bad stuff so let’s ignore it all for five minutes.”
He sighed against me and nodded. I smoothed his hair and hugged him to me hard. I felt his heart beating against my chest. I had no idea what was wrong with me. I only knew I couldn’t look at it, couldn’t afford to examine it.
Not now. Maybe not ever.
A long time later, I moved my face from his neck and he lifted his from mine. He opened his mouth to speak and I placed a finger over his lips, shaking my head. He put his forehead on mine and closed his eyes. I kissed him and tried to smile.
He pulled out of me and I felt a tear escape but hid it before he noticed. Rolling to his back beside me, Decklan took my hand and brought it to his mouth. When he kissed it gently my grip tightened for a moment before I bounded from the bed to the bathroom.
I took a quick shower and came out in a towel. Decklan was dressed and standing in my living room. I got dressed while he leaned against the doorframe of my bedroom and watched me. Pulling on a bra and panties, jeans, a snug t-shirt, and cowboy boots I found it odd that I wasn’t uncomfortable having him there. I’d never gotten dressed like this with anyone.
“You don’t have a lot of personal photos, Sarah. Why not?”
“I don’t have a lot of personal friends and very little family I claim.”
“Lots of good looking men. I find that highly amusing, given your…line of work.” He said with his brow raised. I smiled and walked past him into the living room.
Pointing at each frame, I said, “Gay, gay, closet but still gay, guy whose cherry I popped who now understands he’s gay, my uncle, my grandfather, couple of female friends.” I grabbed my backpack.
“I don’t have a lot of attachments, Deck. I keep things simple. I decorate with furniture I refinish. I pick up art that speaks to me whether it’s popular or not. My main wardrobe is jeans and boots or running shoes. I love kids and have to fight to see my brothers who are now trapped in the hell I escaped when I was fifteen. I try not to overcomplicate things.”
I braided my hair into a long plait while I spoke, “I was angry about my scholarship but now I’m beginning to wonder if it wasn’t for the best. I’m burnt out fucking women for a living, I’m ready to move on, but have no idea where my head is right now. I genuinely like most of my clients and I think I help some of them with very serious problems. I’ve saved ninety percent of every dollar I’ve made on my back and met a lot of really good people along the way. I’ll be twenty in a few weeks, not even old enough to drink, and I feel much, much older.”
I tilted my head and smiled at him. “There you go, all the answers to questions you have about me but were afraid to ask.” I went up on tiptoe and gave Decklan a smacking kiss on the lips. “Thank you for being you, Deck. And for being above and beyond the best sex I’ve had in my life, which is saying something. With that, I’m starving and I want you to dance with me while we listen to Matchbox Twenty and sing along to every song.”
I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him out of my apartment. He climbed on his bike and grinned broadly when I climbed on behind him.
“You hate riding bitch, Sarah.”
“I hate riding bitch with people I don’t trust not to kill me. I trust you not to kill me, Decklan.” I wrapped my hands around his waist and nudged my crotch into his low back. Placing my chin on
his shoulder, I added, “There are also conveniences I really like having right now.”
To demonstrate, I kneaded the muscles of his hard stomach through his t-shirt and smiled when he sucked air through his teeth. “I’ll make a deal with you, Deck, you take me out like a normal person and I won’t tell a soul or ever think you’re less of a player…blah, blah, blah. What do you say?”
“Maybe I don’t want you to think of me as a player, Sarah,” he said carefully.
“I don’t want you to think of me as a whore either, Deck but the facts remain the facts.” I slid sunglasses over my eyes, “Why don’t we both pretend otherwise for one night, Decklan?” I laid my cheek on his back and he put his hands over mine for a moment, sighing heavily before starting the Harley and tearing out of the parking lot.
The rest of the evening was exactly as I’d hoped…fun and playful. We sang and danced to one of our mutually favorite bands, we went for breakfast at midnight and talked movies, then we rode back to my place and had more mind-blowing sex before drifting to sleep together.
Just before dawn, I felt Decklan move from where he’d been spooning me and heard him getting dressed. I pretended to be asleep when he came back to the side of the bed to watch me for a few minutes.
He leaned down and kissed my hair, staying there for a long moment, and then he was gone.
I don’t know why it made me cry.
Chapter Twenty-Two – The Chef
October 2000
For my first date with Michaela, I took Lera’s queue and toned down the glamour. I kept my hair pulled back from my face in a clip, a bit of gloss on my lips, with a hippy-style skirt that came to my ankles and a soft cotton top.
The boots I wore underneath were plain and comfortable. Decklan cringed when dressing me in such a way for a client but I insisted. We pretended we’d shared nothing special over the two days we’d spent together and it was better that way for both of us.
When Katie dropped me off at Michaela’s restaurant, the place was packed. There were only a few tables inside, a couple on the sidewalk, and no parking. It was right on Ft. Lauderdale beach, and I watched the tourists strolling along the waterfront.
The building had a lot of charm and I fell in love with the décor done in warm tones and lots of amber glass pieces on the shelves running near the ceiling. The front was open to the water and a cool breeze blew in, ruffling the white linen tablecloths. There were large rattan fans and the smell of garlic and fresh bread hung in the air.
My mouth was watering when the hostess approached me. I asked for Michaela, saying she was expecting me, and was led to the back to a spotless kitchen with state-of-the-art equipment.
My first sight of my new client was priceless. She was a woman who absolutely filled up the space she occupied. She wasn’t small, but not obese either. Sturdy, the way my grandfather had always referred to me when I was a kid. Her thick black hair was pulled tight away from her face and I could tell she didn’t fuss with her appearance.
She was wearing chef whites and there was a sheen of sweat on her forehead.
The hostess went to her and I waited by the door. Michaela leaned in to listen to the lowered voice of her employee and her eyes came up to meet mine. She suddenly appeared flustered. The young girl passed me on her return to the main dining area and Michaela wiped her hands as she came my way. “You must be Sarah?”
At my nod, she seemed more flustered than before. “You must forgive me, my second-in-command broke his wrist…playing tennis, if you can believe it.” She said this with complete disgust, as if it was the most ridiculous thing to play tennis. “My girl who preps is who-knows-where and I have no staff to cover. I…um…suppose I must cancel our appointment.” She didn’t seem happy about it but I could see the fix she was in.
I gave her a calm smile when another order was delivered to the kitchen and she actually jumped. “I can help. No strings attached. I see you need a couple of extra hands and I’m very good in the kitchen. I’ll wash dishes if you need it. What can I do?”
She stood there speechless for a moment and I could tell the businesswoman inside her battled with the woman she wished to be. “This is not something I should accept. You did not come here for work, I mean, oh my. I am sorry.”
I placed my hand on her forearm, “Please let me help. I’m good at fixing things and you seem to be a situation that could use it.”
She nodded and backed into the heart of her lovely kitchen. “Yes, okay. This might work. I have an apron on the hook there.” I saw it, and moved into a small alcove to gather all of my hair into a tight twist and pinned it in place.
I pulled the apron over my neck and walked to where I assumed was the prep station. Michaela gestured to several baskets. “Just begin dicing until I tell you to stop.” She turned to go back to her station and paused, “Thank you for this.”
I nodded serenely and got to work. I don’t know how much I cut but no one said stop so I kept going until there was nothing remaining in the baskets. Then I moved to cleaning up the station, saw a pot of water on a gas burner that I assumed should be boiling, and turned it on.
Stepping to the sinks, I washed all the materials I’d used and did a few other things sitting nearby for good measure. Throughout this, Michaela shouted orders to her staff in Portuguese, and kept glancing at me from the corner of her eye.
I swept, I sautéed mushrooms and onions, I restocked missing supplies, washed more dishes, stirred a cream sauce that seemed to need it, removed a tray of yeast breads when a timer went off no one heard but me.
All in all, I loved it. I’d always been comfortable in the kitchen and had a knack for performing well under pressure.
The hours ticked by and before I knew it, I was sweaty and it was one in the morning. Michaela removed her apron and came to stand in front of me. I was wiping down counters and humming to myself. I think I’d gotten Brown-Eyed Girl stuck in my head.
She placed a hand on my shoulder and gave me a large, sincere smile. “Thank you. You helped me and I am very grateful. I know it’s late and you must be exhausted…I understand if you need to go. I won’t forget this.”
My laughter must have taken her off-guard but I quickly said, “Are you kidding? I’ve smelled this delicious food all night…you have to feed me and we’ll call it even. Besides, I’d like the chance to sit and chat for a while. You’re quite the general; you run your kitchen like a well-oiled machine!” She smiled again and nodded enthusiastically.
“Of course…we must eat. Do you mind if I send the staff home? Some have been here as long as I have and I don’t like to see that.”
I agreed and she got to work clearing the place out. Everything was put in its place for the following day and it wasn’t long before we sat in the quiet space that an hour before had been bustling with activity.
I stood next to her at the large counter, watching her sauté chicken and steamed vegetables. She pulled the bread from the warmer and plated a delicious meal in less than ten minutes.
We carried our plates to the dining area and I looked out on the virtually abandoned sidewalk. I helped her lock down the windows and draw the privacy shades, saying, “This is a gorgeous location. I love the building, the atmosphere, the smells. Thank you for not cancelling our appointment.”
She inclined her head in response and sipped a glass of white wine, I sipped my water. We sat in silence, enjoying the food. “Tell me about yourself, Sarah. What is it about you that makes me want to keep you with me forever when I barely know you?”
I didn’t know how to reply to that, but said, “I don’t know. I think working together for an evening might have helped.”
“You are not afraid of hard work. I like that. There are few people I can say that about.” She gestured to the room around us, “I built this place when I came here from Brazil. My parents own a place similar where I grew up. I’ve employed many people and watched them run screaming when they couldn’t handle the pressure. You calmly walk in, f
or another purpose entirely, and behave as if you’ve been working restaurants your whole life. I don’t give compliments easily, but you’ve certainly earned it.”
I thanked her and leaned forward in my chair. There was comfort here. A feeling of contentment. I placed my hand on her thigh and asked, “I think what you’ve built is wonderful and I think you have a system you like followed. Once you see the rhythm, it isn’t hard to match the beat.”
She leaned in to kiss me and I tasted the wine on her lips. I put my hand on her neck, massaging gently, and she opened for me. I drank her in, kissing her thoroughly until she pulled back. “We should go upstairs, I think. I live above the restaurant.”
I nodded in agreement and grabbed what I could carry from the table while she locked up. I washed our dishes in the sink before leaving them to dry on the dish board as Michaela shut lights off through the building.
I followed Michaela to the second floor and found a similar style in her living space. Warm tones, jeweled accents, plush rugs over teak flooring. She closed and locked the door, placing her keys in a hand-made bowl on the foyer table. The lighting was soft and gave the room an amber glow.
She turned to me and gathered me in her arms, like a lover I’d had for years. I returned her embrace and dropped kisses along her jaw and neck. She smoothed back a few loose tendrils of my hair, and I began removing the pins from hers.
“I usually shower after working; I’d like you to join me.” I nodded and walked with her through double French doors to her bedroom and master bath. There was a large teak platform bed in the center of the room, draped with silk in deep purple.
The master bath was a masterpiece of design, done completely in beige Travertine marble shot through with cocoa brown. She reached into the shower and turned on the water to heat. Within moments, the room filled with steam.
I took my time undressing, watching as she did the same. Her hair began to curl with the moisture in the air and I knew she tried to brush out her curls, much as I did mine.
In the Service of Women Page 17
