by Kara Liane
He reaches out a tentative hand, and as much as I want to close my eyes to savor whatever he’s about to do, I can’t close them. I need to watch. I need to burn this into my brain so it’s there…forever. He strokes my left cheek with his right hand, moving his thumb back and forth. This small touch feels so good and means the world. It’s thrilling having him touch me in any small way. I thought the brush of our fingers on the cup was electrifying to my system, but this takes the cake…or the cookie, I should say.
Please kiss me. Please kiss me. I’m willing him to do so.
He continues stroking and explains, “You had some flour on your cheek.”
Oh, is that all? I want to blow the piece of hair hanging in my face out of the way in a sign of frustration. Gosh, here I was thinking it was something more. It felt like something more. He removes his hand from my face and steps back, but doesn’t break eye contact with me.
“So, you never said what your guilty pleasure is,” he says cheekily.
You! is what I want to say. Sadly, I’m still a coward.
***
Caleb
I wanted so badly to tell her my guilty pleasure is her. I went for something safe—the TV show—not wanting to spook her. There have been a few times I would bet my life that Liz wanted me to make a move. When our fingers touched on the glass, I wanted so badly to clear the counter and throw her down on it.
Then when I took a drink of my water, I could feel the heat from her gaze watching my every move. I needed to cool down because she had me burning everywhere for her. I had an appetite all right, but it wasn’t for food. I wanted to take the ice in my glass, run it along her skin and watch her nipples pucker from the sensation. Doing a wet T-shirt contest with her would be my wet dream.
Finally, I stroked her cheek to test her one more time, I needed an excuse to touch her. Of course, there was no flour on her face—shh…that’s our little secret. I was delighted when she reacted to me, so I know I’m making progress. I’m still waiting for her to respond to my question; she’s been contemplating her response for a long time, and I wish that I was her answer.
“Hmm, I guess watching eighties B-rated horror films. Have you ever seen Motel Hell? That movie haunts me, but I still scour the internet for it every once in a while,” she finally says, merriment laced throughout her confession.
I’m grinning like a fool and shake my head because I’ve never even heard of the movie.
“Okay, well, you’re missing out. We’ll have to watch it together some time,” she offers, then bites her juicy bottom lip.
And just like that…I’m back in the game!
“Most definitely! I’d like that very much. You just tell me when and where, and I’ll be there. I enjoy spending time with you, Liz. You’re a remarkable woman,” I proclaim.
“Thank you, Caleb. Hearing you say that…I can’t tell you how moved I am. I feel so blessed to have so many incredible friends in my life,” she says warmly.
Fuck! Was I just friend-zoned? I knew it would be a possibility.
I’ll table that for now because I’m not giving up that easily. I don’t know if she’s scared, or if she thinks I’m not interested, or if it’s something else entirely. I’m sure the obvious thing would be to come out and ask her, but I get the feeling it’s way too soon. For God’s sake, I need to keep reminding myself the funeral was only yesterday!
“What’s your favorite food?” I sincerely wonder as I smile her way.
“Hmm, I guess I love anything with quinoa. Throw it on a salad, or put it in any dish, and it tastes great. What about you?” She asks innocently.
“I would have to say burgers,” I tell her.
Of course, she doesn’t know that my preference is fur burgers. I’m getting hard thinking about hers. And for dessert, hair pie. Yup, a double round of pussy for me, please!
“Ooo yeah, there are some really good burger places in the area. Do you like to eat out a lot?” She asks in turn.
Oh baby, if you only knew.
“I do indeed, because why eat in when you can eat out?” I respond.
My words are dripping with sexual references. Although, I’m not sure she has any idea as to exactly what I’m insinuating, and as to what kind of eating out I want to do…on her. Fuck, she’s innocent and sweet. And it’s probably best she doesn’t get my meaning because it’s all kinds of wrong. Okay, subject-changer time in three, two, one, go!
“Well, Liezel, you ready to show me how to make these famous cookies?” I decide to ask to get my mind on something else.
“Wow, I haven’t heard anyone use my full name in so long. I didn’t even realize you knew it, to be honest,” she replies.
“I know many things about you. Especially your beautiful name,” I confess and then roll my eyes in my mind because I went there again with flirting. It’s easy to do with her, and I’m a damn natural flirt anyway.
“I will tell you my mom had a thing for The Sound of Music. One of the Von Trapp kids was named Liezel, just had a different spelling, and so she fell in love with it. I could never really buy into the name, unfortunately. You know what’s ironic, though? I go by Liz, and yet I didn’t ever shorten William’s name. His dad goes by Bill. And I guess giving him a nickname like Will would’ve been too intimate. I swear sometimes we were more strangers than a married couple,” she whispers. Then she stares off, looking somewhere in the distance, clearly seeing something in her mind’s eye that I cannot.
She shakes her head as if to clear it and continues, “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to get so personal about my marriage. I’ve never revealed that to anyone. I don’t know why I just did now.”
I grab her hand and squeeze it. She looks down at our joined hands, and I tell her, “God, don’t be sorry. I can’t imagine what you’re going through. Just know I’m here. Whatever you want to talk about, I’m here to listen. That extends to the kids as well. I know you have Alexi, but I hope you know you can count on me for anything and everything too.” I want to add forever to my impassioned speech.
She swallows and finally gazes up into my eyes, and there are tears shimmering in her hypnotic blue gems. I pull her into me without even thinking twice about it. I embrace her and envelop her like I’ll never let her go. I can’t help myself as I move my right hand into her hair and massage the back of her head. God, I wish her hair were down so I could stroke her gorgeous locks.
This will have to be enough for now. I won’t push her any further than this. The fact that I get to touch her again in any capacity will have to sustain me. There’s so much more I want to tell her. There are so many unspoken things between us, starting with the fact that I’m not going anywhere…ever. It can all wait. I have to hope and believe we’ll get there in time.
After a few minutes, she finally pulls away. I can feel a few drops of tears have soaked into my shirt, but they feel amazing against my skin as it’s confirmation that she let me hold her.
She clears her throat, wipes her eyes and smiles. “Okay, let’s get started!”
Oh my beautiful woman…I’m ready for this baking lesson, and I hope one day you’ll be ready for me.
Chapter 7: In the Right Context
Caleb
It’s Saturday morning, and I’m still thinking about last night with Liz. I woke up super early because I couldn’t sleep. We made the most delicious sugar cookies. They practically melted in my mouth. I think I made every erotic sound known to man while devouring her baked goods. They are sinful and seductive like her. I was a good student and thoroughly enjoyed the lesson.
The best part about the whole experience was getting to know more about her and the kids. She told me all about their likes and dislikes, and how their upbringing went. I already knew she was a great mother, but getting to hear about her schooling to become a nurse and raising three children on her own, well, it’s a real testament to her strength.
I think I’m already falling.
No, I’ve already fallen.
I’ve fallen hard and fast, and there’s no point of return on this one-way ticket to love. I will have to keep these feelings to myself, though—I imagine that will be the case for quite some time.
And my God, she’s a dream in the kitchen as well as everywhere else. I love that her home is so warm and inviting. I felt so comfortable there. I can’t wait until I’m invited back again. Her place screams of everything soothing and generous in the world. The soft tan tones of the patterned backsplash against the dark black granite counters made me want to sit down and never leave. Her kitchen island must get a lot of love and attention, and I want to be there to cook meals with her and watch her busy herself doing even the most mundane of tasks. Those small domestic actions will be more meaningful to me than anything I’ve done in my life.
Fuck, my heart broke for her when she mentioned her marriage being so cold and distant. It was hard for me to know how to react because I’ve never had to deal with emotions of this magnitude. That’s why I want to show her how it can be between us, and ultimately how it can be when a real man appreciates her and knows her worth.
We didn’t make plans to see each other again, but I’m about to remedy that. I didn’t want to overwhelm her last night and push my luck. But since she mentioned watching that horror movie, I fully intend to put a plan into place. We did, however, exchange numbers, and I made her promise to call me anytime, especially whenever she needs help with a project.
As I sit here at my breakfast bar in my kitchen drinking my energy drink and vaping—I vape when I’m anxious because somehow the flavor settles me—I’m warring with myself over one thing.
To call or text, that is the question. Hmm.
I chose vanilla flavor juice—for obvious reasons—as I blow out the vapor in a huge plume of smoke. It soothes me while sitting weighted on my tongue and reminding me of last night. It’s a poor substitute for anything resembling her, but it will have to do.
I hold my cell in my hand, and I’m about to push unlock. I think I’ll go with a text for starters. A text is harmless and innocent enough, and she can choose to respond or not. Sure, she can do the same with a phone call—accept or deny—yet, the text keeps it more casual and light. I’m not a pussy! I’m not afraid to call her. More than anything I want to hear her captivating voice come across the line. But, what keeps coming back to me is that I need to take baby steps.
Another thing niggling at me is the fact that I should be working on my cases; one in particular needs my attention. I thought the damn thing was settled last year when I went to New York City to meet with my client, but oh how wrong I was. That’s actually the same weekend I met Gil’s fiancée, Addison. It’s interesting how things have changed in a year.
Anyway, this client’s divorce has been long and drawn-out, more so than most, and a messy one at that. The players involved are high-profile and require my dedication. My client, Mrs. Yvette Price, is taking on her filthy-rich, unfaithful husband, Darron Price—yeah, there’s a price in this, all right.
Mrs. Price is the kind of woman with the highest pedigree, one who runs in the most elite circles. She is contending that her husband had relations with his secretary. These cases can be rather sticky, and I wish I would have had this wrapped up months ago, but recently they’re contesting everything.
Her perfectly manicured hands, superb style of dress and accessories, olive skin, and impeccable facelift would never betray her age. I know from her file that she’s forty-eight years old, but honestly she could probably pass for mid-thirties. Her expertly arched brows always look waxed to their finest, and her dark eyes complement her dark hair. There’s no interest on my end, though. I cringe when I see or talk to her these days.
Darron runs a successful real estate company. He’s the mogul of the New York City market, and anybody who’s anybody seeks his company’s talent when acquiring property. You would think I’d be nervous handling this divorce because of their marital assets, but I’m not. This is where I usually shine because money doesn’t intimidate me; it never has and it never will. That’s not what motivates me in life, unlike most people.
I never let my personal life interfere with my career but in this instance, Liz occupies every thought and action, so I’m shit for working at present.
My law firm would certainly not appreciate my lack of concentration; they’ll have to get over it because I’ve made Goldberg & Barrish a more lucrative and profitable business since my joining. The Philadelphia-based firm specializes in domestic litigation, and I expect to make partner in the near future. If I don’t get my act together as of late, then that prospect won’t ever come to fruition.
At one point during law school when I settled on what form I wanted to practice, I couldn’t help but feel I was led to this path because I felt my parents should have gotten divorced. I like to help people take that next step in their life to move on from damaged and broken relationships. Sometimes it just doesn’t work no matter how hard you try. I get why some people stay together, but happiness is just as important as the plethora of excuses I’ve heard over the years from those I fight for—believe me, I’ve heard them all: financial, legal, convenience, kids, loneliness, abuse, and so forth.
I would have been in Liz’s corner had she ever attempted to divorce that lowlife. I know Alexi would have referred her to me had the opportunity presented itself. I never judge—okay, you should laugh at that pun given my profession—but seriously, I try to be understanding and open-minded about situations. I somewhat understood before why she didn’t divorce him, but more and more of the pieces are falling into place of the puzzle that is her life. And, boy, it’s a beautiful life despite being touched by pain and sadness.
I finally unlock my phone and start to type out what I want to say. Again, I’ll keep it casual so I don’t exert too much pressure. I key in the following:
Morning sweetness! You and the kids game for movie night at my place? Motel Hell safe for them to watch? I’ll cook dinner as an added bonus. By the way…I’m still thinking about your cookies ;)
Okay, sue me for saying I’d keep it casual. Look, I had to get a little flirty. I’m a fucking dude! It’s pretty much encoded in our DNA.
I’ll sit here and wait for a reply as long as it takes. God, I hope she comes over!
***
Liezel
Oh my God, I’m going to come soon!
I have my fingers working feverishly on my clit as I’m so close to shooting off into space. The only thing in my mind about to bring me to the best orgasm I’ve ever given myself is envisioning Caleb. His sexy face and perfect body have me right there on the edge. I’ve become a master at pleasuring myself since I’ve resorted to that route for the last twelve years. I’ve always used celebrities for my material, or inspiration, I should say, but not today—today I have an image better than all the actors in Hollywood.
I haven’t masturbated in weeks. This is what I need to help alleviate my stress. God, I would kill to have the real thing, though. I still feel ashamed for lusting after someone that’s possibly too young for me. He said he’ll be thirty-five in September, so at least there’s just the ten year difference. I realize that number should not mean a hill of beans at our respective stages of life, but somehow I feel it does. I’ve already been there, done that—shouldn’t he just be beginning that part of his life? Why would he want someone like me? Wouldn’t he think he’d be saddled with too many problems?
Okay, I talk too much even in my own mind. I’m starting to slip further away from reaching the edge where I’ll tip over into ecstasy. A climax was imminent until I had to go do that self-deprecating thing I do so well. I know men don’t find low self-esteem sexy and tend to respond to more confident women; it’s something I clearly need to work on.
So, I’ll put all my worries, fears, apprehensions, and embarrassment to the back of my mind and start small by trying to be confident in my fantasies. For now, this will have to suffice. Because in this fantasy, Caleb wants me the wa
y I want him. In this fantasy, Caleb is very much here and making me burn hotter than I’ve ever been in my life. In this world, he’s rubbing my nipples and pinching my clit to the point I’m moaning so loud that I thank God I’m home alone.
As I continue to work myself and finger my slick channel, Caleb’s scent washes over me. I relive him being in my house last night and being near him. The delicious cologne he wore smelled like sin. I wanted to rub him all over my body like a loofah. I’m trembling from the feelings of passion swirling around in my body, centering right in my very core.
Normally I need some type of lubricant to aid me in my quest for release. This isn’t the case with that god invading my mind and overtaking my body as if he were standing before me. I’m soaking wet, and if he were here, I’d drench his shaft easily with all my juices. I lift my finger to my mouth and suck on it, tasting myself. I wish he was licking me, sucking my flesh and tasting my cum—I rarely taste myself, but I’m so lost in the moment.
I’m quivering because I know his naked body will be magnificent commanding mine to do his bidding. I want so badly to touch him, taste him, hear him, feel him. He engages all my senses and turns me into a trembling mess of ecstasy.
While I continue to rub at the nub of nerves with my right hand, I pinch one of my nipples with my left hand. I bend my knees and open myself a little wider so I can feel every sensation. There’s nothing better than that sensation of fullness and being stretched out over someone’s cock. I desperately want Caleb to fill that void in more ways than one.
I concentrate once again on his image and picture him moving over me in the most delicious rhythmic motion. I imagine him satisfying me the way I know he can. I rasp out his name when the images overwhelm me, and I finally come with a shudder in an explosive rush. My heart is racing with the speed of a thousand galloping horses, and that telltale sign of euphoria invades every crevice in my body and brain.
