36 Inches: A MFMM Romantic Comedy

by Alexis Angel

  "When was the last time that you cooked? Let's just go to Balthzar," I suggest. I can tell she's flustered, and disappointed, but I'm trying to make light of it all.

  "But I've been working so hard on this," she pouts. "I can't believe it's not working out this morning!"

  "Warm croissants, champagne, fresh berries, an omelet—let's have someone else make our breakfast today. Doesn't that sound nice?" I say, pleading my case.

  "I like Balthazar, but we're always eating out," she says. "I just wanted to cook for us for a change, Derek."

  "And your effort speaks volumes, babe," I say, kissing her again, but this time on the corner of her mouth. "But get dressed. I'm treating you, and that's final."

  It takes her a moment, but she finally agrees to go out for breakfast.

  "You win," she says. "But next time, I'm cooking."

  I don't understand why she's so adamant about cooking for us, but that's fine.

  "Deal," I say.

  "Speaking of deals," she says, growing serious all of a sudden. "Have you made any new business deals lately?"

  "What do you mean?" I ask. "That's a strange questions to ask. My business is always evolving. I'm sure I've brokered something new."

  "Well, I was just curious. I realized that I still don't know a whole lot about what exactly you do."

  "It's complicated … and boring," I say, trying to change the subject.

  "Do your global holdings include business in Russia?" she asks, and the question takes me by surprise.

  "That's specific," I say. "What do you care about Russia?"

  "Oh, it has nothing to do with the country really," she says. "I'm just curious. Do you also have holdings in North Korea and Iran?"

  I can't help but laugh. Where is she going with this? Russia? Iran? North Korea?

  "This sounds like a game of 20 questions," I laugh. "Are you planning on doing global business with someone?"

  But when I ask this she gets quiet. She's not sharing in my laughter. She's not looking into my eyes, and seems to be focused on something else.

  "What's wrong?" I ask. I walk up to her and run my fingers through her hair. I try to draw her close to me, but she seems distant.

  "It's nothing," she says.

  "You know you can tell me anything, right? Because this doesn't seem like 'nothing' to me," I say. "You're holding something back."

  But as soon as I begin to probe, she changes the subject.

  "My curiosity just got the better of me. It's really nothing," she says walking over to the dining room table and sitting down. We're both sitting at the table now, directly across from each other, and just as I'm about to tell her that I don't believe her, and that I think she's still holding something back, I feel her foot near my cock.

  She's dragging her foot up my leg and has it nestled in between the crevice of my thighs. I look over and she has a devilish smile on her face. She then reaches under the table and grabs my cock ... not a soft grab, but like she means it. It's now hard as a fucking steel pipe and twitching in my pants.

  I no longer care about her global holdings questions because I'm too focused on the throbbing in my pants. So, I decide to drop the subject.

  "How can one woman be so sexy?" I ask.

  She just smiles and squeezes a little harder. "How can one man be so delicious?"

  If she keeps this up, we may never make it to Balthazar. I'm tempted to bend her over this dining room table and take her as my main course.

  "So, what do you say? Would you like to spend the weekend with me?" I ask.

  "Let's see … considering that I already expected to, I'd say so," she says as her fingers wrap themselves tighter around my cock.

  I smile.

  This is going to be a better morning than I expected.

  Alicia

  Okay, so I know that there are like a million evil lil' calories in this lamb gyro from the corner food truck, but you know what? I really don't have any desire to be healthy when I smell the food being handed to us.

  But I mean Ashley is thinking the same thing as me I think. Because she looks at me as we sit down on the steps of the Seagram's Building and she says to me with a pretty authoritative voice, "You know, babe, we're going to have to stop eating like ten thousand calories for lunch."

  Oh. My. God. As if she's not the one who Facebook'd me earlier this morning and asked me what I was doing for lunch. Sure, I may have suggested the food truck, but only because that's our go to spot. Where we used to sit and eat greasy meat. And stare at the meat walking by on Park Avenue we wanted to...you know, get greasy with.

  Okay, okay, yes, I've been saving that one for a while now. I honestly thought it would be more fun when I said it than it was, so if you're rolling your eyes, I didn't deliver it right, okay?

  Besides, with everything going on with Derek and Nadia and Carter Jeffries and the money trail, I'm not sure I want to get greasy with anyone till I figure this out.

  "Oh my God, are you sex daydreaming on me now?" Ashley asks out of the blue, her mouth chewing lamb gyro.

  Now I really roll my eyes and look at her. "Is that all you're focused on, Ashley?" I ask her. "Just how much sex I'm having?"

  It takes a moment for Ashley to swallow before she can reply. "Well, I'm certainly not having any sex," she says to me. "And it's been so long for me, I think my pussy is just closing up, you know?"

  I'm rolling my eyes again, but inside I know the feeling. I wasn't getting any until Derek showed up.

  And completely upended my life.

  To the point where I don't know if he's being completely honest with me. But a part of me wonders if this is even a big deal. I mean --

  "Hey," Ashley says, eating a piece of lamb that fell from her gyro as she looks at me. "You still with me?"

  "Yeah," I sigh. I don't know what else to do. And I guess Ashley realizes this because she goes from looking at me with a snarky mouth filled with lamb gyro to concerned.

  She still has to swallow before asking, "What's wrong, babe?"

  I sit there, chewing absently for a minute. I don't actually know where to begin. I mean, how do you describe the vague feeling of dread in the pit of your stomach?

  "Is it Derek?" Ashley asks, her concern evident now.

  Awww. I mean, we snark at each other sure, but the moment there's something wrong with me, I know she's going to drop everything if there's a hint of trouble with me.

  "Alicia," Ashley asks, her voice now serious. I know it's serious because she puts down her gyro. She's not eating it anymore. For Ashley or I to put down food during lunch, when we only have like that little time before scurrying back to our desks, is a big fucking deal. "How are things with you and Derek? For reals," she asks and I know I'm gonna have to tell her the truth.

  "Babe, I think he's hiding something from me," I say to her and look down. "Something pretty big. Maybe really illegal."

  Ashley is silent, putting her hand on my shoulder.

  "There's not much I can actually say about it right now, because it involves work too, but every time I try to steer the conversation toward trying to find out more, he plays it off or changes the subject," I say, the words tumbling out of me at this point. "Just the other day, we were having brunch at Balthazar and I thought I'd finally get to the bottom of the whole thing and get the truth. He totally just changed the subject and then when he couldn't change the subject he just made me forget."

  "What?!" Ashley asks. "How did he make you forget what you were talking about?"

  I almost feel like crying. Not because of Derek actually. But because I'm going to sound so blonde right about now.

  "I dunno, Ash," I say to her in a pleading voice. "He just kinda swept me off my feet. Whisked me away to the Caribbean."

  Ashley looks at me. "He didn't like your questions, so he flew you off to the Caribbean?" she asks me.

  I nod. Then to just dig my hole a bit deeper, I add, "He has a private island."

  To her credit, Ashley doesn'
t do anything right away. I mean, she takes bite of her gyro and chews thoughtfully before looking at me.

  "I mean, this one time I was dating this guy who worked at Dow Jones," Ashley says. "I went through his phone one morning and saw his texts with this ho from his office. He was fucking her on the side," she says. I nod at her, wondering what her point is going to be.

  "Anyways I totally flipped out on him," she continues. "He made it up to me by taking me to Red Lobster. So I guess I know what you're talking about with your billionaire. Red Lobster to him is a romantic private island in the Caribbean."

  Is it me, or is Ashley just sighing?

  "So why can't you bring it up at work?" she asks me.

  That's it, isn't it? That's the part that makes this situation so fucking sucky.

  "Because I love him, Ash," I say quietly. "Or at least I'm falling in love with him so hard right now."

  We sit there for a moment. For a moment, the both of us are quiet. The cars and people pass us by. Park Avenue continues to bustle and I look to my left, to the MetLife Building looking down on the entire Avenue from 42nd Street.

  "Looks like you need to make a choice, babe," Ashley tells me after a moment of looking at me. I can see in her eyes that she doesn’t envy me. That she actually feels for me. "It sucks, but you need to figure out whether you wanna risk your career by keeping something potentially illegal to yourself for love, or risk losing the guy you’re falling in love with to keep your job with a faceless corporation run by a bunch of dudes."

  Wow.

  When you put it like that, no mater what I do, I'm kinda fucked. And not in a way that I'm gonna cum, either.

  Derek

  30 million.

  That’s how many dollars whoever in Carter Jeffries is stealing from me has taken so far. They’ve been quiet. They’ve been sneaky. And they’ve been very, very careful.

  But they don’t know who they’re fucking with. Just because I live in a rarefied world of money doesn’t mean that I’ve lost touch with the world. I’m a shark. I know when there’s blood. I can take a scent. And then stalk my prey. Until I catch them and tear them limb from limb.

  Right, sorry for getting carried away, but I get upset, I hope you understand. I have billions of dollars and 30 million isn’t that much in the big scheme of things. But being taken from me means that it can't be used in other operations. That’s the salary that could go toward many people who come look to me for jobs. That’s health insurance money. That’s retirement money.

  What I’m trying to say is that money isn’t just mine. It’s money I would have spent that would have directly helped another person’s livelihood.

  But like I said, I'm tracking it down based on the scent.

  And I think I’ve found it.

  All I need to do now is wait. Control myself from jumping in and letting my emotions run my judgment and just wait.

  Four.

  That’s how many weeks Alicia and I have been dating. When I first told her I didn’t do the whole boyfriend thing, I was telling the truth. I’m a mid-thirties self-involved, intelligent, good-looking, hard working loner. My sexual tastes border on the voracious. No woman has ever been able to keep up.

  Except Alicia.

  She seems to find it amusing in tempting me and then resisting just long enough to make it exciting for both of us.

  Like the other day. It was a weekend so she was spending the night at my place. I was in the living room reading some reports when she walked by toward the kitchen to get a glass of water. Normally, this isn’t something that can cause me to lose focus, but she walked by in black stockings, a black lace thong, and a matching bra. She walked slowly, swaying her hips. I noticed. My cock began to twitch and I pretended to busy myself in my reports until she began to head back.

  But here is where her innocence and naïveté show through.

  Instead of walking by nonchalantly, she peeked around the wall dividing the kitchen and living room.

  Directly into my gaze.

  “What are you doing peeking out here?” I asked her sternly.

  She literally squeaked. I can’t lie. My cock instantly turned to granite and I could almost feel my fucking boxer briefs rip as my 12 inches began to poke out.

  “Noooothiiing…” Alicia said, pretending to be normal. “Just thought I heard a noise.”

  This was too much to bear and I got up, my cock tenting toward her. Despite the fact that there have been numerous times prior to that where she touched it, held it, tasted it, and fucked it, her eyes still went wide.

  “Is this what you want to see?” I asked her. “You wanted to tease me?”

  That’s when she found an inner boldness that first drew me to her. When she nestled her ass against me.

  She walked out completely from the kitchen.

  “Is this what you want to see?” she asked me.

  Gone was the innocent look. In its place was a slattern look in her eyes, as she let her desires consume her.

  I don’t think we put clothes on the rest of the day.

  Five.

  That’s how many more times Alicia has asked me questions or pointedly made references to myself being connected to unorthodox banking.

  “So you don’t know any bankers in North Korea?” Alicia asked me the other day as we were making a stir-fry.

  It’s a pretty fucking strange question.

  “No,” I said to her. “I know bankers in all countries, but none in North Korea.”

  “And you don’t do any business in Iran?” she asked, her questions becoming more and more brazen, no longer poking around surgically.

  “No one from the US is allowed to do business there,” I said to her.

  “And it’s not one of those wink and nod kinda things, right?” she asked.

  “No, it’s not, and what is this about?” I asked her. “Is this about work? These are the investment strategies you’re going to recommend? Invest in North Korea?”

  But Alicia just stuck her tongue out at me. “Can’t a girl ask her guy a few questions so she can answer her mom when she calls and asks oh who is this guy you’re dating?”

  “Is your mother going to ask if I’m an international terrorist with money laundering operations in countries that are sanctioned by the US?” I ask back.

  But Alicia has a trump card that she uses to shut me up.

  She takes off her shirt and presses herself against me.

  Sometimes it’s wise to just pick your battles and know when to give up.

  Three.

  That’s how many days ago I finally told Alicia how I felt about her.

  “Do you like Brussels sprouts?” she asked me as we walked through Central Park toward One57 where I live.

  “I like Broccoli,” I replied as we navigated the joggers and bikers. We had gone out to play tennis in the Central Park courts and decided to casually stroll back.

  “I don’t think I can be with a guy who doesn't like vegetables as healthy as Brussels sprouts,” Alicia teased, sticking her tongue out at me.

  “I like them just fine,” I replied, not sure where her banter was going. “I really don't spend time thinking about them.”

  We walked in silence for a while before she asked again. “What about brown rice?”

  I looked at her.

  “Do you like brown rice or does it have to be white rice?” she asked me. I raised my eyebrows at her. “Just answer me, babe. Please.”

  “I’m indifferent,” I replied, entirely confused.

  “It’s important,” she continued.

  I stopped walking and turned to her.

  “Why?” I asked.

  There was a moment of silence on her part. She was hesitating.

  I pulled her close to me, and her head came to nestle on my chest. “Tell me why it matters,” I asked her.

  She looked up at me. “I’m just thinking about all the things I like, and seeing if you like them, because if you don’t then I need to figure out how to sti
ll enjoy them in case … you know,” she said and it finally dawned on me.

  Alicia was envisioning a future. With me.

  The cold, successful loner had not just gotten himself a girlfriend.

  I now felt happy thinking of this girl thinking about me in the long term.

  But there was something that needed to be said on my part.

  “There’s something I need to tell you, Alicia,” I said to her gravely. “And it’s more important than brown rice. I think we need to sit down.”

  I guided her to a bench as her face began to grow fearful for a second. This was New York City. Stories abound every weekend of women who believe they have a future with their significant other only to realize he has a wife and family in Kansas City.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “I need to tell you something important,” I said, looking down.

  “Please tell me,” she said, anxious and breathless.

  Almost too much fun.

  “I guess, I mean,” I began and I could see the look of impatience on Alicia’s face as she probably waited for me to tell her I was married and my wife lived in Vail. “It’s just that if we’re going to talk about brown rice and Brussels sprouts then I should tell you that … I love you, Alicia Sullivan.”

  For a moment, Alicia looked at me with puzzlement. Then delight. And then happiness, satisfaction, and love.

  The weather was perfect and it was only 11 am in the morning. A perfect day in a perfect park in the perfect city with the perfect girl.

  “Oh my God Derek Lowell,” Alicia said, a broad smile lighting up her face. “I love you so much!”

  She brought herself forward and wrapped her arms around me as we kissed for a long moment on the park bench.

  When we finally disengaged she looked at me and wrinkled her nose. “And if you ever do something like that again to scare me, I’ll … break both your arms!”

  I laughed. We had talked earlier of going to Paris and she had told me she really wanted to see the Venus de Milo more than anything else.

  Eventually we began to walk back to my apartment.