by Ashley Pullo
Their first shared moment is timeless, slow-motion and raw attraction, each searching for the appropriate gesture of declaration. The fascination, the impulsive desire – they share a smile. Their first smile – but not their last.
“Hello? Natalie’s cousin! Do you need a taxi?” Chloe returns her attention to the firefighter and Adam, feeling defeated, turns away to pay his tab.
“Oh, no. Thank you. And I’m Chloe, by the way.” Chloe smiles sweetly as the firefighter reaches in for an awkward hug. She telepathically sends a message to the back of Adam’s head, but he doesn’t turn around.
“Alrighty then, goodnight.” The firefighter lays the rose on the nearest table and disappears into the Manhattan melting pot of dating disasters.
Chloe takes a step.
Take another one, Chloe – Adam’s getting his jacket to leave.
She does it. Three more steps and then a pause. Chloe is standing behind Adam, breathing in his air and counting down the beats of her heart. 3-2-1 . . .
“You’re not leaving, eh?”
Yes, their attraction is electric, but their connection is still just an idea. Their story will be a journey.
Controlled. Explosive.
Light. Dark.
Magical. Real.
Like fireworks!
CHAPTER FIVE
Adam Ford
8/15/03
Re: Add it up
CHLOE IS A revelation.
The charming way the edge of her mouth curls into a smile just before she erupts in laughter is enough to screw with my emotions. She smiles with purpose, she laughs with pure joy, and she oozes sensuality – the supreme triumvirate.
I pin her against the wall but I don’t touch her. I wait. I wait until her eyes meet mine before I place my hand on her neck. Her blood is pumping, her chest is inflating and her heart is racing underneath my palm. I commit to her eyes, so green with life – I want to feel this girl.
I slide my hand down the front of her body as I lower to my knees and lift her dress. The muscles in her thighs tighten but then relax when I place my lips on her skin. I trail my tongue along her leg while running my hands upward to rest on her hips.
She shudders. I fight a smile.
Chloe quietly says, “Just one kiss,” and grabs my hair between her fingers. I stare up at her as I slam the front door with my arm and return my hands to her hips, rocking her toward my face. I can almost taste her.
I slip off her panties and position her leg over my shoulder, preparing to slide my tongue deep inside her. She’s unbelievably soft and tender and it takes every ounce of willpower not to consume her completely. She mumbles again, something that sounds like, just one screw. I suck on her clit, making her moan and twitch.
She tugs at my hair, inviting me to join her above the surface. I rise to meet Chloe’s fervent eyes, placing my hand around her waist and pressing against her so tightly her breathing becomes shallow. Chloe is actually panting. She stares at my wet mouth, so I teasingly lick my bottom lip.
I guide her toward my bedroom, crashing into the side table and laughing at my uncharacteristic hastiness. I sneak a quick glance at my stereo . . . where is that music coming from?
Into my room we stumble, my guard is down but my dick is up and the quicker I get her undressed the better. Thankfully, my room is clean and relatively normal because I know Chloe is checking out her surroundings. She’s nervous and I don’t blame her; it must be intimidating to be a single woman in Manhattan.
I bury my mouth in the contour of her gorgeous neck – every curve on her body is the essence of femininity. This is not a slow and methodical progression, this is an insatiable awakening.
“Just one kiss.” She breathes into me. I oblige by simply kissing her forehead. She searches blindly for my mouth, so I take her face in my hands and squeeze. Her eyes open and she smiles. The first kiss needs to be savored. The first kiss needs to be explosive.
Her lips part, but I don’t give in – not yet. I want to feel her bare skin against mine. I want to feel her body quiver beneath me. I want her to enjoy sexual foreplay.
We share a moment of frustration as I tug at the cuffs of my sleeves. Chloe impatiently yanks the middle of my shirt, buttons scattering across the floor. I like this. I remove my shirt and shove my hands in my pockets, waiting for her to undress. Surprisingly, I like her having the advantage and I really like the rhythmic movement of her body.
Goddamn it, where is that music coming from?
She turns her back to me like a sexy burlesque dancer and lowers her dress one strap at a time. Even in the minimal light of my bedroom, I can make out the shape of her round ass, tormenting me, begging for my cock. She glances over her shoulder with an adorable smirk – ah shit. The self-control that I often rely on has officially been transferred to full-throttle compulsion.
I unbuckle my pants and kick off my shoes, mindful of her thorough evaluation. This has become much more than a simple strip-down, I’m allowing her to seduce me. I approach her backside, inhaling her sweetness and teasing her with my erection. Every sensation is new to me, essential yet confusing, so I quickly turn her around to regain control. I need to see her tits, I need to have this be a normal sexual encounter, not sensual.
Fuck, she’s amazing. Her body is an erotic dream parading the tits of Aphrodite. I press against her tightly. We’re not just naked, we’re exposed.
“Just one screw,” she whispers. Her arms wrap around my neck while she strums and thumps my shoulder. The sensation is soft yet raw, relaxing yet extremely disruptive. Every feeling is a contradiction and a surprise. Chloe has seduced my emotions.
She runs her hands down my back and around to the edge of my boxers, never taking her eyes off my lips. But then, without any sort of warning, her head drops and her tongue suddenly meets my stomach, swirling in precise rhythm and lapping all the way to – oh fuck, that’s nice. She lowers to her knees and jerks at my briefs, introducing my cock to her mouth. Mmm, that mouth. She’s gives head like she kisses, with passionate hunger.
I pull her up to me and kiss her cheek, and then her neck. Chloe forcefully pushes me toward the bed, falling into me and thrusting her breasts in my face. Her nipple brushes my mouth as she taps my head like a drum. “Just one fuck,” she murmurs. Yes Chloe, I will give you your fuck.
I position Chloe on her back and move the untamed hair from her beautiful face. We kiss. A kiss of concession – the fundamental rule of giving yourself to someone. She bites my lip. I suck her lip. The best fucking kiss – ever.
I run my hand over her chest and place my palm over her heart to feel the rhythm of her heartbeat. My fingers walk down her stomach causing her to fidget restlessly. It’s so fucking sexy that she can’t control her impulses.
My hand brushes against her thigh, the warmth demanding my attention. Chloe parts her legs ever so slightly and smiles. I place two fingers on her lips, delicately stroking her velvety skin. I’m driving her insane – and she loves it. I hook one finger inside her, then two . . . then massage her clit. Her eyes close as she lifts her hips, allowing me to penetrate deeper and deeper. In and out – purposely coating my fingers. My fingers explore and tease as she moans softly, “My mo ma mum.” Gibberish? Nah, it’s music.
Chloe places her arms above her head and exhales. “Just one fuck,” she whispers.
I remove my fingers and swipe them across my lips. I want to taste her on my lips and I want to smell her on my body. I grab a condom from the table and rub my wet fingers on my shaft. As soon as I slide on the condom, she pulls me between her legs. There will be no more foreplay, no dirty talking, and nothing unauthentic. Sex with Chloe is going to be unscripted and very real.
I pummel her, placing my hand under the small of her back and arching her toward me. With each thrust, my speed increases. I can’t control it, I need more. Quicker, deeper – just more.
I roll to my back in hopes of slowing things down. Chloe climbs on top of me as I move my legs under her a
ss to give her extra support. She starts to rock, her hips swerving and her tits bouncing. She’s like a goddess of rhythm, unaware of the magical hold she has over me. We exchange a few intimate smiles as she leans down to kiss me, nipping my lip. I grab her ass and pump into her, faster and faster. Bracing herself on my chest, she moans, “My mo ma mum.”
And then, Chloe does something so inimitable it can only be described as a sex angel soaring through an orgasm. Her arms extend and her head snaps back, like a winged goddess floating through sexual discovery. Chloe’s body is tense but weightless. Her head drops to look at me – her commanding green eyes – watching me. Needing me. Fucking me . . .
And then it happens. With a woman on top and taking control – I come. And I feel it for the first time.
CHAPTER SIX
Adam Ford
8/22/03
Re: Sushi Fridays
I BOUGHT A cactus. It’s a flowering cactus, but an idiot’s plant regardless. The nursery’s low-maintenance sales pitch appealed to my inadequacies, but I was also intrigued by the condescension in its appearance. The cactus is a prickly and tough little bastard, but completely soft and vulnerable inside.
I deposit it on the window ledge and sit at my desk to read over an email from Diane. I’m hoping she can share some insight on the green object idling in my window, waiting for my attention.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Re: Re: Help Diane Greenthumbs
Adam,
So nice to hear from you! How is Roberta working out? As far as your new roomie, cacti are delicate but extremely hardy. Don’t neglect her, but don’t overcompensate because of your fear . . . let her live and she will amaze you.
Love,
Nanny Diane Greenthumbs
She? I scroll through the contacts on my Blackberry and stop when I see her name. I’ve looked at her number over a dozen times the past week, resisting the nagging urge to call her. I left a message with her roommate, cryptic, but I know Chloe understood, if she even got it. But this is the first time a woman hasn’t returned my call and I actually give a shit. I pick up my phone and begin to dial when the intercom screeches.
“Mr. Ford?” Roberta’s voice is especially demonic today.
“Yes, Roberta?” I release the button and smile. Chloe’s dimple.
“Mr. Shaw would like to see you in his office at your convenience.”
Shit. No way. My focus has been a little off this week, but seriously? Chloe’s smile. I’m the firm’s golden boy after winning the Delgado case.
“Please let him know I’ll be up at three.” I unplug my intercom and spin around in my chair a few times making myself dizzy, but it’s the most effective way to find concentration. Chloe’s laugh. It’s decided, I’m calling her.
Once my head stops spinning, I dial her number and count the rings . . . 1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . .
“Hello?”
I’m actually smiling at the computer screen. “Hey, Chloe?”
“Yep. Who’s this?”
“Adam,” I say steadily.
“Ah, Adam Ford. You were extremely close to being filed away as an oh well. Lucky for you, I’m all out of files.” Chloe’s voice is firm, yet playful.
“And lucky for you, I enjoy sarcasm. Come out with me tonight.” I can picture her full lips creeping into a smile, warm and sexy.
“Are you sure? There’s a Little House marathon from eight to midnight and I would hate for you to miss it.”
“Then I will pick you up at midnight.”
The undeniable playful rhythm to our dialogue is comfortable and genuine. I could talk with her for hours – rather, I could have sex with her for hours and then talk forever.
In a dramatic voice she says, “Adam, I’m a lady. Midnight is reserved for booty calls. Can you pick me up around nine? Fifteen Worth Street, apartment 5G.” I scribble down her address and fold it into my pocket.
“I will pick you up at nine and subsequently return you to your home at midnight for my booty call.”
“Unless you’re into the group thing, sex at my place is not an option. I share a bedroom with Natalie and she could pop in at any moment. See you later, lo-ver.” Chloe sings the last word before hanging up the phone.
I plug in my intercom and it immediately screeches. “Mr. Ford?”
“Yes Roberta?” I sigh.
“Mr. Shaw would like to see you now.” I glance at the clock but it’s only twelve-thirty. Shit. Whatever it is, it can’t wait.
“Okay, let him know I’m on my way.” I straighten my tie and button my cuffs. Chloe’s eyes. I shut off my computer and put on my jacket. Chloe’s voice. I shove my Blackberry into my pocket and remove the Post-it with the address. Chloe’s ass. I place her address back in my pocket and smile at my cactus. Chloe.
Shaw’s bowtie is purple with tiny Labradors and dog bones. I should be nervous sitting in his office on a Friday with two other named partners, but honestly, the man looks like Orville Redenbacher.
“Adam, we’re quite impressed with what you’ve accomplished in such a short amount of time. Franco Delgado has brought all of his business to our firm – even asked for you specifically to be on his retainer.” Shaw chuckles, amused and astonished.
Awesome, like I want to be a legal whore to that man.
“Thank you, sir.” I smile genuinely, thinking of the conversation Chloe and I had about Swatch phones.
“Yes, well, the problem is we can’t have an associate deal with such large billings. Too much of a financial risk for the firm.” Shaw laughs and his belly rolls.
“I understand.” Thank god.
Shaw narrows his beady eyes and leans forward. “That’s why we’re offering you the title of Junior Partner.”
Davis, the oddest of the three, complete with an afro of fuzzy yellow hair and the mannerisms of a serial killer, hovers over me to study my reaction. He reminds me of that mellow painter, Bob Ross . . . but that type of guy is always a masochist underneath the sweater vests, and I tend to stay as far away from Davis as possible.
“However, you still have a lot to prove and being the youngest partner comes with its own set of problems,” Davis interjects. “Everyone is going to hate you, Adam.” He adds with joy.
“Thank you for the opportunity, I look forward to new enemies,” I say flatly. All three men laugh as Mr. Jenkins punches me in the arm.
“Sure, sure, I like your bravado, Adam. To make this seamless, however, you will remain in your current office and continue with your prior caseload. We liked that psychology voodoo you used on the jury selection and should we require your assistance, you jump. The raise is tiny, say 5%?” I should shake my head and accept whatever bullshit is being spat at me, but the raise and attention just mean I have to do more work.
“That would be fine, thank you.” I answer, daydreaming of Chloe’s plump lips and velvet tongue working my shaft.
“You’ll have your own secretary starting on Monday, please make her feel welcome. Poor girl thinks she’s getting demoted.” Jenkins chuckles.
And the heavens open for the choir of angels to sing, Hallelujah – my own secretary.
“That’ll be fine. Thank you again for this opportunity.” I stand quickly and extend my hand in gratitude. I can’t stay in this office a moment longer with all these rampant sexual images of Chloe invading my mind. The men seem pleased with my appreciative acceptance and politely escort me to the elevator, talking about golf and titty bars. No joke.
When I reach Roberta’s desk, I sit on the very edge and smile at her. She’s on the phone taking a message for another attorney and giving me an evil stare. She fumbles through her desk drawer in search for a pen, distracted by my menacing arrival.
“May I help you, Mr. Ford?” She grumbles as she places the phone down and adjusts her ugly sweater.
“Yes you can. Today is a special day and I would like sushi for lunch. Hatsuhana on Fifth will be fine. A spicy yellowtail, a salmon
sashimi and a large Mountain Dew.”
I tap my hand on her desk and give her a goofy grin, attempting to warm her frigid soul. Roberta has no time to respond before I head to my office with and close the door. I wait while she makes the phone call and discovers that Hatsuhana doesn’t deliver. Fuck, I’m an asshole! But starting Monday, I won’t have to deal with the nun ever again.
I whistle Pantera’s Cowboys From Hell while sitting at my desk. I’m focused – a new clarity about the promising future that lies ahead of me – this feels good.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Adam Ford
8/22/03
Re: The snow globes
THE ELEVATOR’S LAST inspection was stamped on September 10, 2001. I can’t decide what’s creepier: the fact that it legally needed an inspection a year ago, or the haunting memory of the day before the world changed. Actually, both thoughts are pretty fucked up and first thing Monday, I’m putting in a call to the Department of Buildings.
The elevator opens and I exhale in relief – in the future, I’m taking the stairs. I spot a black door with a tiny gold heart painted around the peephole. Of course it’s Chloe’s . . . she puts her mark on everything.
The door swings open to reveal a damp Chloe patting her hair with a towel and wearing a – not a robe, why can’t I think of the name? It’s like a cotton floral sheet that grandmas and trailer trash like to wear. A dressing gown, maybe.
“Adam!” Chloe grabs my arm and pulls me inside.
Wow, her apartment is cool. My initial perception of a woman outside her home is always confirmed by the furnishings inside her home. Like with Fiona, she’s all business and tends to overcompensate for her shortcomings – resulting in expensive décor with very little character. But Chloe’s apartment is a collection of her favorite things, like a rummage sale into her psyche.
