Man in Charge

by Teddy Hester

  There’s a mixture of hurt and concern in her eyes. “And you were going to tell your best friend this news, when?”

  “Tonight was our debut. We told everyone as it came up in conversation. You were so busy, I never got to tell you, sorry.”

  She shrugs and, being Juliette, makes it a minimal, graceful act. “I’m meeting with him next week. He has some ideas for growing my money so I can buy or build my own space for Sophisticated Events.”

  WTF? “You’re going to be a client?”

  “If I like what I hear, yes.” End of discussion. “Did you come together tonight, or would you like a ride home?”

  I glance around to locate Tony. “We came together, but I’m tired, and if he and Mike are going to be much longer, I might take you up on it.”

  “What do you know about Mike?”

  “Not a thing, why?”

  “He asked me out.”

  I lean in and nudge shoulders with my bestie. “Ooooo, tell me more.”

  “Nothing to tell. I’ve turned in quite a few receipts to him for reimbursement. And then tonight, we were looking at the contribution numbers together, and he asked me to go for a drink sometime. You want to double? I’d like to see how you and Tony are around each other.”

  “Sure. It’s okay by me, but Mike works for Tony, so I don’t know how that’ll go over.”

  She nods, and the pearl drop earrings hanging from her perfect lobes swing. “Just as well. I think he’s a little immature for me. But he might be fun for a night.”

  “You and your one-night stands,” I say.

  “I don’t date often enough to be as slutty as you make that sound.”

  “Ha! That’s true. So, yeah, go get your rocks off with Mikey.”

  “Can girls get their rocks off?”

  “Why not? An orgasm is an orgasm, right?”

  A masculine voice breaks into our girl talk. “Right.” Tony’s holding my coat open, ready to help me into it. “Juliette, you did a good job tonight. Very smooth, elegant. Nice.”

  I stand up and shove my arms down the sleeves of my floor-length coat. Juliette helps pull up one sleeve, while Tony slides the other up my arm. I feel like a Barbie doll.

  “Thank you,” she says to Tony. “Hopefully, we’ll be doing several more over the next months.”

  “I’m sure. In the meantime, go decompress, and we’ll see you Friday at the office.”

  “Will do. Oh, congratulations, by the way. I just found out you two are dating. You make a nice-looking couple.”

  Mike joins us, and the four of us leave the theater, making sure everything’s locked up tight. Tony and I walk to his car, and I notice Mike walks Jules to hers about ten yards away.

  “Let’s give the car time to warm up,” I say, watching Jules work her feminine wiles on Mike. She’s not the fluttery lashes type of blonde. She’s the cool drink of water type men want to make dirty. She knows it and plays it. Ms. Cool, Aloof, and Untouchable. Makes them frenzied to touch her. Little do they know they’re the spider in her web.

  “Okay. Cold?” He starts the car and turns on the heater.

  “No, I’m watching Jules take Mike down.”

  Tony leans across me to look out the window, too. “How will we tell if she takes him down?”

  “Watch.”

  They chit-chat at her car for about half a minute. Then Jules says something. Mike steps into her and takes her lips in a deep kiss. When he breaks off, she says something else and Mike climbs in the passenger side of her car.

  “Ha!” I say. “Another one bites the dust.”

  Tony’s still staring at the car, his brow furrowed. “Cleo, is your best friend by any chance a maneater?”

  I grin and wave as Jules drives by us on her way out of the parking lot. “Oh, yeah. Big time. Make sure you see what kind of shape he’s in at work tomorrow. If he makes it in.”

  “Damn, that’s hot. I need to get you home ASAP.”

  “Yes, you do. This dress is beginning to bug me. I need my pjs.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know.”

  CHAPTER 14

  “Can’t sleep, sweetheart?”

  “No.” Her foot tangles with mine under the covers and jerks in rhythm to a beat only she can hear.

  “What do you need?”

  Cleo’s sigh is consuming, and it tears at my heart. She doesn’t know what she needs. She just knows she’s antsy and can’t sleep.

  “Want to listen to the surf together?” She usually loves to have me talking low in her ear, in sync with the movement of the tides.

  She shakes her head, and I kiss her temple. “I’d like to try something different. It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while. May I?” I ask.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay. You don’t need to do a thing. In fact, I’d rather you didn’t. At least not at first. Ready?”

  “I think so.”

  I roll so I’m half on top of her. “Kiss me first. Eyes closed.”

  As gently as a feather, I lower my mouth to hers. No demands, just softly absorbing the feel of her under my lips.

  She starts to wrap her free arm around me. “Not yet, sweetheart,” I breathe against her mouth and then sample another sweet kiss.

  Her hips begin a slow gyration. I slide my hand down her belly to rest on her pussy. The heel of my hand massages soft and slow over her clit. I’m not dragging her to orgasm; I’m just trying to make her feel warm and relaxed. Languid.

  “Feels good?” I whisper, continuing to caress her lower body.

  “Yes,” she says on a sigh.

  “For me, too. I love making love to you. Worshipping you with my body.”

  She changes her hip movement, seeking more pressure. I shift so I cover her body, replacing my hand with the base of my erect cock to continue the massage.

  “That’s the best feeling,” she whispers.

  “It was made for you. Feel how my swell fits your contour?”

  Content to let me set the pace, we rock on each other. Pachelbel’s Canon thrums in my head, and I move to its smooth repetitions. It’s not long before the evidence of her mounting passion coats the base of my cock. I rock up and down instead of side-to-side to drag as much of myself through her moisture as I can.

  “Oh, Tony. That’s so good. So good.” She chants “so good” like a mantra as I keep up the slow, erotic motions. When she climaxes, it’s as gentle as our movements have been, but it lasts longer. I don’t change the pace, and she keeps coming.

  Before I make her raw, on the next slide, I nudge until the head of my cock finds its haven and glides inside, a little at a time, a little more each time, until we’re completely connected.

  “Tony.”

  I lay my head next to hers on the pillow, barely moving in and out of her, but ticking my hips with hers so that my pubic bone rolls over her clit. She clenches me inside her core with every circular motion of our hips.

  There’s no urgency between us, only our bodies in tender communication. Our lips occasionally touch. My hand sometimes sweeps the fullness of her breast, or I work my thumb and forefinger between our bodies to squeeze and roll a hard, erect nipple.

  “I could stay like this forever,” I say. And I could. It’s so serene in her arms, in her body, sharing this bed, where there is only this moment.

  Her stranglehold on my cock allows me to share another orgasm with her. I memorize the feeling of her muscles pulsing around me, gripping me, trying to milk essence from me. There’s no better feeling in the world.

  “That was beautiful, little hummingbird.”

  “It was amazing for me. But isn’t it torture for you?”

  I kiss her collarbone, where she’s so sensitive. She rewards me with the shiver I crave, knowing I caused it. My cock swells a bit more inside her. “No, this is not torture, sweet Clementine. Your pleasure is mine.”

  “It’s never been like this, Tony. I love it. I feel so close to you. In every way.”


  “Perfect. Then we’ll keep doing it until you tell me you’re too sore, or until you fall asleep.”

  She lets me adore her through three more climaxes before she succumbs.

  Next time we do this, I’ll ask if she wants me to stay lodged deep inside her while we both take our rest to see if we can experience waking, still connected.

  It turns out that way anyway. I awake to her lying on my chest, staring into my unfocused eyes, putting my swollen cock to good use.

  “Hey! Enough sleep, money-man. I don’t know about you, but I have places to be, things to do, and people to see.”

  And most of all, I decided sometime in the middle of all that creamy shagging that I’m going to do as he asked and try discussing things with him before I do them. At least the things that include or impact him. And this probably qualifies.

  “What time is it?” His voice is muffled from all the blankets I flipped onto his side of the bed when I got up and showered.

  “Eight.”

  “Why are you up so early?”

  “I told you. I’m busy today, and I need to talk to you.”

  “Oh, that doesn’t sound good,” he grumbles, dragging himself out from under Comforter Mountain.

  “Yeah, you’ll probably think that, but too bad, because I’m only doing what you told me I had to do. Here. I brought coffee.”

  “Thank heavens. Chatty hummingbird sounds more like buzzing bee until I’ve had some coffee.”

  “Yeah, yeah, poor, pitiful you. Drink up. I’ll talk.”

  “Ready.”

  “So you say. I’m going to the bank this morning.”

  He looks down into his mug and then back up at me. “You needed to wake me for that announcement? Next time, just leave me a note. No, wait. The dots are beginning to connect.” He takes another swallow of molten energy. “Why are you going to the bank?”

  “I’m going to get a loan.”

  “Cleo.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Is this for the project?”

  “Yes.”

  He scowls. “You know how I feel about that.”

  “I do.”

  “So, then, why are you going ahead anyway?”

  “I’m going to answer your question with one of my own, and I want you to understand it’s an earnest question, not a sassy one.”

  “This I gotta hear. Hit me with it.”

  “Ask your question again first.”

  “Why are you going ahead with a loan, knowing how I feel about it?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Why w—because we’re in a relationship.”

  “Right. And somehow that makes you feel you have control over my life.”

  He thinks about that as he sips rapidly-cooling coffee. “Not exactly.”

  “We aren’t your parents, Tony. I have two businesses to run. It’s unfair and unrealistic to think I should wait to discuss business decisions with you and then kowtow to your wishes in the matter. That reduces my career to a hobby and takes away my self-sufficiency and momentum.”

  “A household with two bosses is a prescription for constant power struggle.”

  “I think you’re right.”

  He chokes on his coffee, and my eyes roll.

  “So dramatic,” I say.

  “No, really. You agree? Then what are we arguing about?” he asks.

  “Tony, you said ‘household.’ I agree that at home, there should be one boss. I think anywhere else should be off limits.”

  He sets aside his empty mug. “Who do you see as boss of our house?”

  “You.”

  He studies me quizzically. “And you think you could live with that arrangement?”

  I nod. “As long as you’re not a tyrant.”

  He acknowledges that with a nod of his own. “Let me add something.”

  “What?”

  “You and I are both smart, capable business people. It would be foolish, I think, to disregard that the minute we walk into the house. What I propose is this: we discuss anything that’s an argument, listen to what each other has to say, pose solutions, weigh them in terms of how they affect the smooth and healthy functioning of the relationship, and then I make the final decision.” He stops talking and watches me carefully. It’s one of the things I’m coming to like most about him. He makes me feel heard. And that means his idea might work for us.

  “That sounds really good, Tony. I’m not sure how to implement it, but I’m willing to try.”

  “I’m sure we’ll make mistakes and have to backtrack from time to time until we get into the groove, refine the process as necessary. But it’s a place to start.”

  “Okay, that brings us back to the beginning. I’m going to the bank today to get a loan approved in case Tom needs money Friday.”

  His jaw clenches, but he shrugs. “Understood.”

  “A-a-a-n-d…”

  He closes his eyes tight like he’s in pain.

  “I’m going to get the team together and discuss another idea I have for the project fund-raising.”

  His face clears and eyes pop back open. “Oh? What?”

  “I want to make a calendar of the work being done on the Regal and the principal players involved.”

  “That sounds like a promising idea, Cleo. I’m sure Janelle has taken some excellent photos you can use.”

  “Not for this, no.”

  “Okay, so what will it take?”

  “I’m not quite finished working out the details. Would you mind waiting until the group’s together so I can present it all at once to everyone?”

  *****

  I lug my big tote up to Tony’s office. The first thing I see when I walk through his door is the maroon flame sculpture on top of a three-foot-high black, square column. A backdrop of three shaggy green trees with fringed leaves fills the corner.

  Projecting diagonally from the corner, toward the middle of the room, lie the conference table and chairs. It keeps the space from feeling so angular and square, plus now no one has his or her back to the ocean or has to crane their neck to view the whiteboard and screen on the wall.

  So many people have commented on the tremendous transformation of Tony’s office, that even he has finally come around. I catch him sometimes leaning over a plant or bending in close to the art just for the pleasure of looking at it.

  The only things he hasn’t warmed up to are the orange and raspberry velvet cushions. Once he accidentally discovered the flip side sported bedazzled animals with jeweled eyes, he was so disgusted he hasn’t gotten near one again. In the spirit of collaboration and cooperation, I might have to rethink them. It is his office, after all.

  “Thanks, guys, for rearranging your schedules on such short notice. I want to present an idea for you to consider, and I wanted us all together to discuss the possibilities.

  “First, I want to let you know that I’ve secured a loan to cover whatever shortfall we have on Friday, if necessary.”

  Predictably, the initial reaction is excitement and relief. Then ramifications chase those warm fuzzies out the door. Tom’s the first to reject my news. Others, probably feeling some guilt, join in. Through it all, Tony sits silent and stony-faced, which the group notices, too, of course.

  “Cleo, that’s an incredibly kind and courageous thing to do. But I can’t let you do it,” Tom says. “I thought we settled that last night.”

  “Yes, but that was before my brainwave,” I remind him. “Listen to the rest.”

  I pause to refocus and decide how to approach this next part of my plan.

  “You all know I have an advertising agency. What you may not know is that I also have a business called Scanties that designs undies. Currently the designs are for children’s undies—panties, briefs, undershirts, petticoats, tights, socks, that sort of thing. However, I’m breaking into men’s underwear with a line of silk boxers. Manufacturing is going like gangbusters, and of course, I’ll do my own advertising campaign.

  “So far, t
hat’s been my biggest problem. I can’t find models to suit me. That’s where you come in.”

  “You’re asking us to pose for a fashion shoot?” Tom asks incredulously.

  “In underwear.” Eldon sounds totally disgusted.

  “Me, too?” Juliette sounds confused, but not automatically turned off by the idea.

  “Here are a few shots of the boxers on male models.” I hand Juliette a stack of about a dozen photos. She passes each one to Eldon across the table when she’s done.

  “I can see what you mean by these models, Cleo,” she says. “They don’t look real. It looks like a futuristic movie set. No, I don’t care for those pictures, either.”

  By this time, Tony has the first one in his hands, and I’m glad to see he’s actually looking at it.

  Dapper college professor doesn’t seem as shocked as earlier. “The colors and prints you’re using are kind of nice. I like this green pair with the little gold diamond crests.”

  Eldon cranes his neck to look at what Tom’s talking about. But he still hasn’t said anything.

  I pull some packages out of my tote and spread them on the table. “Tom, there’s the pair you liked. Go ahead and open the package and take a closer look if you want.

  “And while you’re looking at those, here are some mock-ups Janelle made using some of the pictures we took last week. This’ll give you an idea of the direction I’m thinking. Let me know what you think.”

  In the stack I set down this time are pictures of some of the workers performing various tasks. Janelle had replaced their jeans with boxers. There’s a painter rollering a wall wearing his work boots and socks with his paint shirt tucked into a pair of royal blue boxers. My favorite is the one with a carpenter carrying a strip of molding over his shoulder, as he climbs the stairs in the maroon boxers with his work boots and tool belt. I watch carefully and catch Eldon’s mouth twitch when he looks at that one.

  Tony leafs through them all wearing his poker face and saying nothing.

  “So, here’s what I want you to consider, if you will. I’d like to create a Regal Theater calendar featuring project personnel working in the theater in my boxers, all proceeds to go into the building fund. After all, I paid these models as much as a thousand dollars for their one-day shoot. I’d just as soon pay you.”