“I didn’t realize you knew each other that well.” My brow creases as I try to understand this revelation. My dad sparred with her for years. She was his nemesis, always evading his attempts to reel her in as a client.
“There are many things people don’t know about each other,” she replies, and her voice is a little distant.
“I’m sure.” I glance around the room.
“Are you looking for someone?” She tastes the wine; nods at the waiter. He pours and disappears. “I hope you didn’t invite your brother. One Hudson at a time. My personal limit.”
“That’s fair. I asked the baker to deliver the real fortune cookies here. I’m just,” and I clear my throat, “seeing if she arrived yet.”
“Young man, I’ve been on this earth longer than a while, and I don’t take offense at many things. The cookies were nothing.”
“You certainly seemed offended.” Arie’s not here. Maybe she won’t come at all. The truth is that I don’t really give a fuck about the cookies, not anymore. If I never hear the word “cookie” again, I can die a happy man. It’s just that, well, I want to see her again. Just to find out if that spark I felt is still there. Because –
“I was disappointed that you thought cookies with fortunes were the best way to impress me, and irritated you then assumed accidental vulgar words would color my entire perception of your abilities and personality. Surely you can do better.”
I nod. “I’d like a chance to try.”
“Send me your proposal. If I like what I see, I’ll call for more details. We’ll have lunch and discuss it.”
“That’s what you always said to Dad. But you never hired him.” I raise an eyebrow.
She laughs. “It was more fun that way. Then we could get together for wine and gossip about obnoxious people we know. Share advice.”
“Dad did that?” My voice rises despite my best efforts.
She nods. “I believe he enjoyed my company more than he wanted my business. And he was far too erratic with his options trades, in my opinion.”
I blink. That my father had friends – that this woman was his friend – never crossed my mind. New ideas burst forth. “So you were partners, after all. Just not in a financial way.”
“You could say that,” she says. “I recommend the sole meunière. It’s never overdone and the sauce is miraculous.” She takes off her spectacles. “Carter, there are many relationships in the business world, and not all of them involve monetary exchange. It’s possible to help each other out without trading a dime.”
“No, I know that.” But do I? Maybe this is what Dad meant when he told us we’d grow into the business. He lectured to us often, from his hospital bed. There was a grace to him, and below the surface he carried an entire universe of knowledge. When he died, and that went with him, it felt like losing something as critical as an arm. We didn’t just lose a father, we lost our foundation.
It’s his business still, but entirely not his, because now it’s mine and Nate’s, run by our thoughts, our personalities, our relationships. A sudden burst of clarity makes me realize that we need to work harder at building the bonds between people, just as hard as pushing the financial transactions. That was the glue my dad had, the magic that kept it all together. Nate has that. I need more of it.
“But I’m definitely more conservative than he is in my trade choices, so I think you’ll be pleased,” I can’t help but add.
I feel a presence at my shoulder and turn, and there she is. Arie. Dressed in a tight black dress and silver heels, her hair loose and flowing on her shoulder, she’s like some goddess. I stare. I don’t want conservative now.
“Arie.” My voice comes out hoarse, and I clear my throat. I stand to greet her, lean in, and kiss her cheek. She smells of perfume, something sweet and musky, and I can barely resist the urge to bite her neck, lick her skin, take her lips with mine.
Yeah, the attraction is real. I feel it, she feels it. Fuck, probably everyone in the room feels it. I see the pulse beating in her throat. I want to touch the hollow there, but I step back. Thank God she showed up, even though I was a dick. She surely can see from my eyes that it’s not the cookies I care about.
I pull myself together to do introductions. “Caroline, this is Arie. Arie, Caroline.”
Arie has a fancy box in her hands tied with a ribbon. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’d like to apologize for the fortunes. Here are the ones I was supposed to deliver.” She hands over the package.
Caroline snorts. “You two are completely fixated on these, aren’t you? Join us.” She gestures at the table.
Arie bites her lip, looks at me. It’s like she needs to hear it.
“Please.” My voice is firm. “I want you to.” Our eyes lock and something sparks between us, and I know she knows. And for some reason, although we’ve not spoken more than a handful of words together in our lives, I feel that I’ve known her longer, or that fate means for us to have something together. Because against all reason, against all normal human interactions, something about Arie makes me feel comfortable and right.
I can’t say that trite phrase, “I feel like I’ve known her forever,” because that’s simply not so. But there’s a feeling there I can’t describe. I don’t believe in love at first sight, but sometimes you just fucking click with another person, and the sound of you and them falling into place reverberates through your entire brain and body and soul, making echoes that come out through your eyes.
“Well, then, all right. Thank you.” She smooths her dress down her thighs and although it’s not an obviously provocative gesture, I can’t help but feel my arousal grow. Her belly has just the slightest curve and her arms are toned. The swerve of her calf transfixes me. I can’t stop looking.
Caroline smiles. “Tell me about your bakery.”
Arie looks up fast. “My bakery?” She flushes. “Can I just tell you how entirely sorry I am that–”
“No, you can’t.” Caroline lifts her fork and puts it down, firmly. “Both of you. You’re like sweet fluffy baby chicks walking on an expressway. Listen. Mistakes happen. Own them. Learn from them. Use them. You’re here, with me,” and she gestures grandly. “Use this opportunity, Arie, to sell me your products. And you, Carter. Take advantage of the people who thought those cookies were hilarious. Offer discounts to those who didn’t. Use the mistake to your advantage. No publicity is bad publicity. Work it like it’s an opportunity, not a setback. Next time someone bitch-slaps you in public, handle it like a boss and get charge of the situation. I’ll tell you how.”
I nod. Okay, so she wants to be a mentor. I can use a mentor. Maybe this is the kind of thing Dad meant when he told us, “Find the people who matter, all of them, and keep them close.”
“Uh, okay.” Arie swallows. “Great! So, okay.” She takes a breath and starts talking.
By the end of the meal, Arie has obtained a promise from Caroline to use her bakery for the next event she needs desserts catered in exchange for a five percent discount.
Caro (we’re on a nickname basis now) smiles at me when she leaves, and I get the feeling that she’s never going to hire me as her financial advisor, but that we’re going to have a long and mutually satisfying relationship, regardless.
It’s just me and Arie, looking at each other across the dimly lit room. And now that we’re alone, I don’t know what to say. So I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “Want to come back to my place?”
Arie
“To your place?” I put a hand to my cheek, feeling it redden. Sure, I want to, but that’s a bold move on his part, especially since our only big conversation so far revolved around a refund of a refund. And since he originally invited me here as his baker.
“Yeah.” He eyes me and smiles. “Just for a drink. You and me. Let’s talk, get to know each other. I just – I feel like there’s something here, you know?”
He’s confident, but under it there’s something else, a need I recognize, a desire that matche
s the one inside of me. And that makes it easy to say, “Yes.”
He puts his hand on top of mine and leans in, his dark eyes flashing. “I’ll drive you and we can come back for your car, later.”
My stomach leaps into a flurry of excitement, wondering what might happen before the “later” and whether it will be along the lines of my fantasies, late at night, in bed. But I simply nod.
My car is safe in the lot here, and when he looks at me sideways from the driver’s seat of his Panamara 4S and grins, I melt inside. Yeah, there’s something about him that I crave on a fundamental level.
Sometimes two people just fit so well that they seem meant to be together. Except that it’s random, life is, and probably nobody is “meant” to be anything. Fate doesn’t exist, and who knows if karma is real. Life is chaotic and strange, and we’re all just hanging onto this spinning globe by our fingernails. And despite all that, sometimes two halves of the same whole find each other. And that is more magical than fate; it’s nothing short of miraculous that those two souls — in all these billions of humans crowding the globe – find a matching heartbeat. If you find that person who fits you, you need to try your goddamned best to make it work because that it is it– your one snowflake from a blizzard, your one perfect moment to fly. Your one chance. You don’t let that pass.
I’m not going to let this pass.
He has an apartment downtown near the lake, and the lights of the city are breathtaking, sparking in the black like fireflies of desire, buoying my desire for him higher, ratcheting the tension between us taut. A wire, ready to snap.
“Wine?” He pours something red into glasses and I taste it without taste, because all I can focus on are his lips on the wine, and my brain is consumed with wondering how he would taste. I want him so badly I’m ready to cry out.
We talk, and it’s both inconsequential and weighty, because each word we trade lingers in the air between us, bridging the gap between our bodies, creating a twisted cable of ideas that pull us closer and closer, inch by inch, until his lips hover over mine. Our glasses are gone and his hands are holding mine, and he whispers, “Arie?” and all I need to do is smile into his mouth and nod, and now there’s no distance between us at all.
His mouth is warm and skilled, his tongue playing mine, teasing me, and he tastes like the wine, grapes exploding on my tongue into their full flavor, all of the undertones of cherry and leather and sunshine they talk about in catalogues, but it’s mine now. He’s mine.
He wraps one hand in my hair and tugs me closer to him, even closer, and we’re kissing so tightly that there’s no air, we’re sharing one breath, and when we break apart, panting, the feral look in his eyes sends a spire of desire right to that place between my thighs, an arrow of urgent need.
His hand glides up my thigh, his fingers lingering at the apex, before he gently pushes aside my panties and finds my wetness, touching softly at first, then more boldly, and I spread for him, a moan on my lips.
“You like that?” He murmurs and I nod, tossing my head back, eyes closed, leaning back onto the couch. He bends over me to take my lips again, running his fingers up my belly to touch my breasts under the dress, drawing my moisture along my body with his fingers, his magic touch. His other hand is in my hair again, tangling, playing, and he strokes my cheek before he devours my mouth. This kiss is more passionate than the last, and when he breaks it to bite my neck, I cry out in pleasure, arching my body up to him.
I run both of my hands over his strong shoulders, his powerful arms. I can feel the muscles under his suit, and I squeeze hard, wanting to be skin to skin with him; run my hands over his ass through his pants, then grab him in for a fierce hug. He laughs but returns it, then splays his hand across my stomach. “Arie? Can I take you to my bedroom?” His eyes are liquid lust and I nod. Yes, please. Please.
I scream out in a startled laugh as he scoops me up, but I’m light in his arms, and he kisses me as we walk, our mouths merging, and he drops me onto the bed with the rough order, “Stand up and strip for me.” His eyes are so full of passion and light that it’s an order I willingly obey, shimmying my dress up and over so I stand there in just my lacey panties. He growls and grabs me to him, cupping both of my ass cheeks in his hands as he takes my mouth, pulling me up and into his body so I can feel his hard arousal between my thighs.
“Take off your clothes,” I demand, when we break for air, and he nods and does it: Cufflinks, shirt. Pants. When he’s just in his boxer briefs, I catch my breath. He’s ripped with a 6-pack of a top athlete, his muscles are perfection.
“You like what you see?” he teases.
I nod. “So far, so good. Keep going.” My voice is low and full of desire.
When his shorts come off, my eyes widen in surprise and pleasure: He’s big and thick, gorgeous. And I’ve never wanted a man more. He stalks toward me and gestures – lie down. I do, putting my arms above my head on the pillow and spreading my hair out, hoping he’ll find it sexy. I know he does, because the growl he makes as he straddles my hips tells me more than any words could.
He pushes his cock into the warmth of my body, resting against the crotch of my panties, and teases me slowly, drawing his body up and down, pushing against me, then away, until I’m moaning, little breathy sounds of passion. When he bends his dark head down and flicks my nipple with his tongue, I cry out his name, so he does it again, and again, and again, until I’m squirming under him. He bites down and I gasp with the small pop of pain, delighted at how it sends a burst of pleasure through my entire body.
“Like that?” he asks, and when I nod he licks and bites the other one until I’m almost crying with need. But then he slides down my body, pulling my panties down to mid-thigh, and spreads them as far as the fabric allows, and puts his face into my body. “Let’s see how well I can lick you with these on,” he suggests, and his tongue barely flicks my most sensitive skin, making me wail out in pleasure. I need more, I want more, and I try to open my legs further, but I’m trapped, bound in my own lingerie.
He laughs and uses a finger to stroke the place I need a touch, but continues to tease me with the tiniest flicks of his tongue, and soon I’m delirious with desire. I’m going to die if I don’t get more than I’m getting. The feeling is building so slowly that it’s painfully powerful and I can’t take it, I need more, I need release.
“Please, take off my panties, please,” I pant.
“Where do you want my tongue?” he whispers. “Tell me.”
“Where it is, but more,” I urge him.
“Say it,” he demands, pushing up on his forearms to look into my eyes.
“My pussy,” I whisper back, feeling my face redden, but I don’t care because I need him so badly. “Carter, please. I’ll do anything.”
He moves back down my body and tugs the fabric lower until it’s around my ankles, but then he winds the fabric over itself until my ankles are tightly bound and I can’t spread them at all. I make a sound of surprise and he orders, “Onto your hands and knees. Your turn.” Then he smiles at me, a sly smile, and he deliberately lies back and puts his hands behind his head on the pillow, his cock jutting up, strong and thick. “Do a good job and I’ll untie you and finish my job,” he says, raising one eyebrow.
I could take my legs out of the panties in a heartbeat, but I want this, so I nod and crawl forward until my hair brushes his body. “Your wish is my command,” I murmur, and smile to see his eyes darken with desire and his cock harden even further. I suck his nipple like he did mine, then trace my tongue across his belly, the dips and flats of his abs. He sucks in a breath as I move my mouth down his hip, dropping kisses and bites, until I reach his groin. When I take him into my mouth, he groans and flexes his thighs, and I know he’s mine.
I suck and use my tongue on him, doing my best to drive him insane, repeating the things that make him grunt and clench his muscles, until I can feel the tension in him, wound so hard he’s ready to explode. I pop him out of my mouth for a s
econd and turn myself around, so my ass is presented to his face, my knees beside his body, and lean back down to continue licking.
“God, Arie,” he moans and puts both hands on me immediately, running them over my ass, touching, squeezing. He slides a finger into my pussy and I groan around my mouthful and push my hips back towards him, so he does it again, finding a rhythm that matches mine; when my head goes down on his cock, his fingers go out; when I come back up, he goes in. He moves his hand forward so his fingers brush my clit and I cry out; I’m close, so close. With his other hand, he slaps my ass, a hard crack that echoes around the room, and the mix of pain and pleasure makes me even more insane with want.
I come up for air. “Carter, please, I’m going to come,” I wail, and I don’t know if it’s a warning or a plea.
“Not yet,” he orders. “Suck me again. Don’t come.” I put my head back down and continue, and this time he doesn’t touch my pussy, but spanks me again. The need to come fades just a bit, but in a different way, my arousal is further whetted. The sting on my ass is making me crazy for him, and the whole scene – wet panties around my ankles, the smell of his sex, the feeling of his fingers, the illicit dirtiness of this – is overwhelming me. “Tell me when you’re ready,” he says, and I murmur something incoherent as he strokes my skin, touching me, teasing me.
Finally, he pulls me up. “I’m going to fuck you now, Arie. Lie back.” I didn’t say I was ready, but I am; he can tell.
I’m delirious with relief and passion and when he pulls the fabric from my ankles and spreads my thighs, I’m dying for his cock. When I feel his tongue instead, I scream with the soft touch on my clit. “I just need a taste,” he says, his voice hoarse and fierce. “Your smell has me wild.” He thrusts into me with his tongue, firm and strong, and swipes across my clit again.
