He drives me to my studio and that is where we part. I get on my bike and head home. I think about the evening and how it could have gone completely horrid since he did read that e-mail. Lucky for me, he didn’t seem to let it get him down. Plus we both accepted that there was a bit of fault on both ends, but mostly the bartender.
A few days pass and I don’t get a word from him, either by phone, or e-mail, or in person. I just go about my business, teaching and dancing. Every time my phone rings or I get a piece of mail that I don’t immediately recognize as a bill, I hope it is some type of response.
Spring is a lovely time for my students. They get to rehearse for a small recital I put on to raise money for my studio and to encourage these lovely little people that they can be on stage too. The parents love the spring recital almost as much as the children. The children, of course, love the bright costumes.
Just like any other rehearsal day, I get my students dressed in their recital costumes. I have a few butterflies, some flowers, two bunnies, and one little girl who insists on being a bumble bee and not a butterfly. Who am I to say no?
One, two, three. One, two, three. I count out the beats for the children. Plié, allégro, glissade, and pirouette. Most of them are getting the hang of it. Parents are watching from the side lines and making them all nervous. I join them on the dance floor with my pointe shoes laced up, leg warmers pulled up, and leotard tight against me.
I face them towards the mirror so they can see everything. I begin slowly, placing my feet in second position, shoulder width apart. I lead the children in a simple plié, then we tip toe across the floor with a twirl for the allégro. Then a wide step with another turn back across the floor for the glissade. Finally, I am up en pointe while the children are on their tip toes, one leg up, arms out, and spin.
A butterfly loses her balance and bumps into a flower, which knocks him over. In an attempt to keep his balance he grabs a bunny’s tail, pulling her to the ground. Now I have a three kid pile-up on my dance floor. Luckily they all think the situation is hilarious and laugh. Soon all of the children are piled up on one another, tickling and laughing.
I compose myself after a few moments of laughing so the parents see that I am still in control. It takes a few minutes to get the children back in line and we do it again. One more time at the regular tempo and they do it perfectly. The parents stand up and applaud my lovely students. Some of them start crying because they just can’t believe they did it, some of them run over to give their parents a hug.
I look across the line of parents and notice one out of place man standing in the back. Mr. Clearwater has been watching my class again. My cheeks blush and I turn away for a moment to compose myself yet again. I feel like I’m in the spotlight at an audition all over again.
My wonderful students are soon cleared out and I am left alone with Mr. Clearwater in my studio. I start to clean up and surprisingly, he starts to help out. We clear out the cubbies of the crumbs left behind by bag lunches, put up the 80s boom box, and sweep the floor.
He has the broom and is sweeping a pile of dust down the floor. I’m en pointe putting the boom box up on the shelf and I could’ve sworn that he looked at me. Not just looked at me but, really looked, like he was checking me out.
I brush it off as a trick of the eye and start disinfecting the cubbies like usual. He comes up behind me and lightly taps me with his hip. I turn around with a smile and a nervous giggle. He returns my response with the same.
“Would you like some dinner?”
“Sure.”
In a moment he is on the phone ordering some food for delivery. While he’s doing that I get out of my leotard and pointe shoes and get back into my jeans, loose button-up shirt, and canvas shoes. Thirty minutes later a delivery boy is at my studio door carrying some pizzas and a few two-liter bottles of soda. Mr. Clearwater doesn’t even skip a beat and pays the boy in cash.
“Pizza? A fancy boy like you stoops so low?”
Mr. Clearwater smiles, his version of a laugh.
We sit together on the dance floor, eating pizza, drinking soda, and talking about our lives. He tells me more about his parents and that they threw him to the curb when he dropped out of college to start his company. He tells me about his uncle taking him in and supporting him while he got Clearwater Industries built up.
I tell him about how my parents never supported me becoming a teacher because of their skewed outlook on society. We seem to bond a bit over our lack of true family. I come clean about the appletinis on his bar tab and just how drunk I was when I wrote that e-mail. The air is cleaned a bit more, which is nice for both of us. He actual laughs a little when I explain how I woke up the next morning, completely disheveled.
“I was impressed with your dancing today.”
“Thank you. Sometimes it’s still hard to do certain things.”
“You looked great.” He sips his soda. “I never learned how to dance.”
I gasp, astonished that a man of such influence would not have learned to dance. “Get up!” I stand, waving my hands at him. “Come on, get up.”
He wipes his hands and stands up.
“I am mainly a ballet dancer but I learned all sorts.” I lift my arms and motion for him to come in. “Come, I’ll teach you a basic waltz.”
He smiles at me and steps forward, placing one hand on my hip, and grasps one of my hands with the other. I place a hand on his shoulder and teach him the basic four step waltz. I stop for a moment, run over to the boom box, pull it down, and turn on one of my CDs. I step back up to him and we dance to the music.
I keep my body pressed up against him, as proper etiquette for dancing calls for, but I can tell there is something there. He tries to avoid eye contact, biting his lip occasionally. I keep my hand on his shoulder even though I want to slide it down his chest. He keeps his hand on my waist even though I can tell he wants to slide it lower.
He smiles and I smile at him, trying not to blush again.
“You’re doing pretty good, Mr. Clearwater.”
“Please, call me Samuel.”
I’m sure my cheeks are blushing because his are too.
We dance for the duration of the song, stepping in time with one another. His hand is soft in mine and the one my hip feels so nice. I hope that my hand on his shoulder feels just as nice to him. He’s probably not interested though. I mean it is so hard to find a decent gay man here. Certainly this businessman couldn’t be like me.
Before I know it the song is over. We stop dancing and stand there for a moment. His hands find their way to my hips and my arms wrap around his neck. His lovely brown eyes seem to glisten as he stares into my cerulean beauties. This seems almost too good to be true.
Our lips suddenly touch for a moment, then another. The second kiss lingers for long enough to let us both know that this is something great and wondrous. But, it is still over too soon. He pulls away and goes to grab his coat, his cheeks beet red.
He apologizes for the kiss and thanks me for the wonderful evening before leaving me in my studio with a quarter of a pizza and half a bottle of soda.
***
Samuel sits on his bed thinking about that night. He tries to wrap his mind about why he kissed Avery. It felt right, it really did. He doesn’t want something serious. He is sure that he wouldn’t be able to handle something like that right now with his uncle in the hospital and everything around that in limbo. He can’t help but crave another tender kiss.
He thinks on it for a few days and eventually comes up with the bright idea to move on from the subject. He calls up an ex-girlfriend of his that he knows still wants a piece of him. She agrees to go on a date with him and he reluctantly gets ready to go. He doesn’t really want this, but it will be good for him.
He gets on a pair of nice black slacks, a pressed white button-up shirt, and his dark blue blazer. One more look in the mirror and he’s out the door, in the car, ready to pick up his date. He tells
his driver where to go and they pick her up then head to the restaurant. She does look really nice in a slim-fit black dress that accentuates her cleavage and legs.
Samuel plays the gentleman, pulling out the lady’s chair, ordering wine, the whole deal. She clearly wants him. She has her hand under the table, stroking his leg. He brushes her hand off the first few times but she is persistent. She slides her hand around his leg to grasp his inner thigh and give it a good squeeze.
He just smiles and sips his wine. Apparently this was the wrong move. He almost sprays wine all over her face as her hand finds its way right to his crotch. He gulps down the wine with a cough. He looks at her with wide eyes. She keeps caressing his now intrigued bulge.
Right as he is about to shove her off again the waiter comes by to check on them. He manages a smile and she tells the waiter they are excellent. The waiter nods his head and refills their water glasses. As he is leaning over the table Samuel swears his face is couldn’t be any redder as she slowly unzips his pants and slips her hand inside to begin stroking his cock.
Samuel calls back the waiter for a moment to order dessert which catches her attention and gives him enough time to zip up his fly. Luckily this restaurant has table cloths, otherwise the wait staff would have seen everything.
After dinner, he instructs his driver to take them back to his place. Of course, the driver obliges. His date is all over him in the back seat, kissing him, touching him, trying to undress him. They get halfway to his place when he looks out the window in an attempt to keep away from her lips and tongue. He sees Avery, walking down the street, carrying a few bags of groceries.
Immediately he gets the driver to stop the car. The tires screech and he hops out of the car giving the driver the address to this lusty woman’s apartment. She swears at him and tells him off but doesn’t bother getting out of the car. She’s had a bit too much to drink and probably couldn’t chase after him if she wanted to.
***
It takes about thirty minutes to walk back from the store which really isn’t all that bad. It gives me time to think about what I’m going to make for dinner and what I’m going to teach at the studio the next day. Sometimes I think about cleaning my apartment, not usually though.
This night didn’t seem all that different from the others until I heard tires screech across the street from me. It startled me so bad that I almost dropped my eggs. I heard a woman yelling profanities and then I saw Samuel jogging towards me with a relieved smile across his face.
He gets to me and offers to take one of my bags. I smile and hand over a bag, not even questioning why he was being yelled at by a woman from his car. We walk together back towards my little apartment. I can see my apartment building at the end of the block and finally have to ask, the curiosity is just killing me. He smiles and says that she was an old girlfriend who wanted to be back on his arm.
We get to my building and I get my keys out to open the door in.
“Would you like to come up for some coffee or something?”
He smiles with a nod and we head towards the stairs. My building is not spiffy enough for an elevator. We trudge up the stairs, down the winding hallways, and finally get to my apartment door. I open it up, my cheeks red because I live in such squalor, at least in comparison to him, I think.
He doesn’t mention anything about my little one bedroom apartment so I don’t bring anything up. I start to put away my groceries and he surprises me again by helping out. I don’t have anything fancy but I do make a pot coffee for us to share. I tell him I don’t have actual creamer, just milk and table sugar. He assures me that that is fine.
We sit together on my tiny couch, sipping off our mugs. We talk for a while and he is visibly nervous. He sets his mug on the floor and leans in, pressing his lips against my cheek. I set my mug down and pull him back against me for a real kiss, my lips right up against his.
He shifts on the couch so that I’m on my back and he is on top of me. We kiss again and again. I wrap my arms around his neck to keep him close. He doesn’t stop there. Soon his tongue is dancing with mine. He lied when he said he couldn’t dance because our tongues did the tango followed by the foxtrot.
My hands explore his shirt and then he rips it off so that I can explore his chest, his wonderfully toned chest. I remove my shirt in hopes that he will explore me as well. He does, with his hands and his lips. I let out soft pleased sighs when his lips touch my bare skin. He runs his fingers through my blonde hair and kisses me passionately.
He slides his hand down my side, taking hold of the waistband of my pants. He pulls them off of me as well as my underwear, leaving me fully exposed. He sits up, admiring my body while removing his own pants. He sits back and my eyes are drawn to his amazing member. I want it.
I can feel his eyes caressing my body. He looks up and down my core. His gaze lingers on my shaft. My eyes trace the definition of his muscles. I look over his body and I just want to touch every inch of it with my tongue. My eyes lower to his hard member and I know he saw me bit my lip, just begging for it.
I reach out and take hold, stroking his hardened cock. He simply smiles at me then comes back in for a passionate, tongue-filled kiss. He spits in his hand and takes over the stroking, leaving my hands free to explore his body.
My hand touches his cheek softly and he nuzzles into my hand. He sighs happily as I slide my hands down his chest. I lightly tug each of his nipples and dig my nails into his pectorals. I slide my nails down his sides until I can grasp his hips.
He kisses me again and I caress his leg with my own. I can feel him guiding himself between my taught cheeks. He pauses there and makes eye contact with me as though asking for permission. I wrap my arms around his neck and hold the back of his head with my hand. I pull him into a kiss.
He is so gentle and tender as he enters me, I can’t help but moan out. It doesn’t take long for our bodies to become just as entangled as our tongues. I moan out his name and he breathes heavily against my neck. I hold him close, nibbling his shoulder and he moans my name. He thrusts slowly, in and out. Our sweat dots the couch cushions as it drips off our bodies. Our bodies are as close as possible. I can feel every hair standing on my skin with the intensity of his passion.
His back is arched and his head hangs down next to mine. I kiss his cheek and neck between moans. His powerful yet gentle thrusts send shivers up my spine. I wrap my arms around him and graze my nails lightly against his back. He wraps one arm underneath me and hold me close.
My cock is pressed between us, being stroked by his amazing abs. I wrap my legs around him, wanting him to stay deep within me. He moans softly as he picks up his pace. My moaning becomes more frequent with the powerful thrusts and the bodily strokes on my shaft. I grab hold of his hair and pull him in to kiss me.
He moans into the kiss as do I. I can feel this cock begin to tremble inside me. I don’t even care about my own pleasure at this point. I enjoy being this close to someone, to him. I want it to continue. We kiss and kiss, out lips and tongues becoming slicker than our own sweaty bodies.
He clutches the couch cushion, the kiss sending him over the edge. I can feel his cock throb inside me. His body quivers against my body. He breathes deeply then kisses down my neck, slowly pulling himself away from me. I follow him until we are both sitting on my couch with our tongues keeping us connected.
After round one we make it to the bedroom, our tongues still attached, our hands everywhere. He throws me on the bed and kisses every inch of my body. The bell rings on round two and we make it steamy.
He gives me the attention I crave. I am on the bed, lying back against the pillows with his head between my legs, and his lips around my member. He bobs his head, taking as much into his mouth as he can. My chest heaves with my heavy breathing. I curl my fingers in his hair as he glides his tongue up and down my hard member.
I moan his name. Inside I am begging him to take me again and I think he noticed. He gets up on h
is knees and grabs my thighs, pulling them around his hips. He guides the tip of his cock between my cheeks and thrusts deep inside me again. The bed creaks with each thrust and I think the neighbors pounded on the wall at some point.
We didn’t care. We were so wrapped up in one another that nothing else mattered. I reach down to stroke my shaft as he penetrates me again and again. His strong hands on my thighs feel amazing, but not as much as him being inside me. He moans with every powerful thrust as do I.
He watches me stroke my shaft and takes a few glances further down to watch himself thrust against me. I catch him watching and see the smile on his face. His moaning becomes more frequent as he enjoys the sights and sounds. I stroke my cock faster with a smile across my face. I lean my head back and arch my back. He looks up at my face and leans forward, one hand on my hip and the other at my side on the bed keeping him up above me.
It doesn’t take long for my cock to throb in my hand and my seed to pool on my chest. He smiles as my body shakes around him. He picks up his pace for a few brief moments before joining me in a grand orgasm that surely wakes the neighbors assuming they weren’t awake already.
When our bodies finally settle, I sit up on my elbows to kiss him. He leans down farther to join his lips with mine. Our second time was just as wonderful and passionate as our first. Each moan a sensual message for the other not to stop. I’m amazed that we even managed to fall asleep afterwards.
We clean ourselves off and get dressed, at least mostly. He puts on his pants and underwear but leaves his shirt in the living room. I put on my underwear and pajama pants. He cuddles with me on the bed, face nuzzled in the crook of my neck. I hold him close and caress his sides.
I was hoping that night wouldn’t end but alas it did. I wake up and there is no Samuel lying next to me in bed. I look around my apartment and he is gone. I guess he just had to get to the office and didn’t want to wake me. Makes sense, a busy guy like him.
The Boss Page 2
