by Jamie Knight
Using three fingers to try and approximate the girth of his cock, I imagined him starting to move in me, slowly and first, but then gaining in speed until he was pounding me to a massive orgasm.
The fantasy was too much. I came hard, finally relaxed for the first time today.
Chapter Seven
Emma
I was used to fairly regular masturbation. My natural sex drive apparently being cranked up to eleven. Though I wasn't quite used to it being so consistent. Every time I did it, I found myself thinking about Noah, my sexy lawyer. I couldn't quite explain it except to guess that he had gotten to me in a way no one else had. I had seen handsome and well-built men before but there was something else about my fake fiancé. There was his mind, of course. He clearly knew a lot more than one would assume given his rich, pretty boy image, though I got the gut feeling that that was not something that he was particularly trying to do. He just sort of came across that way.
I was driving home from the café a few days later when my phone pinged. I looked over and saw that it was Noah. Finding an open spot, I pulled over and excitedly opened the message.
Hey, sexy.
Hey, handsome.
Where are you?
On the side of the road.
In a ditch?
In a hearse.
Lol. That's a bit better, I guess.
I would say a lot better, considering I'm alive.
Which is more than can be said for the previous passengers.
I do my best not to think about that.
Like it is just a really big station wagon?
Exactly.
Without backseats.
Gives more space.
Where did you get it anyway?
My uncle.
Gag gift?
No, no, he ran a funeral home. He left me the hearse in his will.
Lol. It could be worse, I guess.
Worse than a free car with 50k on the odometer?
It didn't.
It did.
No way.
Do you know how slow these things usually go?
Fair point.
The gas mileage is surprisingly good, too.
Where were you headed before I so rudely interrupted?
Not rude at all, cutie. I was just heading home after work.
Are you free for lunch?
It's rush hour.
Dinner then?
Now you’re speaking my language.
English?
Among others.
Joe's in twenty?
Works for me.
I giggled at our witty repartee, feeling my face flush, and my stomach fill with butterflies.
Replacing the phone on the passenger seat, I started up again, the gently used motor purring like a kitten, and tried to nose my way into the solid line on cars inching by.
Joe's restaurant wasn't that far from where I was, amazing considering how big L.A. was as a city but Noah always seemed to be able to arrange it, so we never had to go very far to be able to meet. We also had several very coincidental run-ins. It was almost as if he had planned it that way, and there was no way he could have accidentally ended up in the same area of the city as me only by serendipity. But to think such a thing would just be paranoid. We hadn't fucked yet, or even really kissed aside from the peck on the cheek, but we saw a lot of each other, and it was clear that he thought about me.
Noah was already there when I arrived. Of course, he was. He had likely called from the restaurant, and I had the four horsemen of the apocalypse and the hordes of hell that constituted downtown L.A. rush hour to contend with before making my grand and triumphant appearance.
I reapplied my makeup and combed my hair back down, tying it back into a braid, before going in.
“Traffic?” Noah asked as I slid into the booth table.
“Why are you psychic?” I giggled.
“Oh, I'm not, just a lucky guess based on the laws of probability.” He gave me a smirk that made my stomach tingle.
“Genius.” I grinned at him.
“Not really just very clever,” he contested, faking a modest look.
“Did you miss me?” I asked, trying to resist the desire to reach across the table and take his large hand in my own.
“Hmm?” He raised a blonde eyebrow as he looked at me.
I blushed. “Since you saw me last. I fingered you might, at least going by the fact that you texted me out of the blue.”
“Ah, good point.” Noah nodded but looked away. “To be honest, yes, I did. I mean honestly, how long has it been since we spoke? It feels like it's been forever.”
“About an hour ago.”
“I meant face to face,” Noah clarified.
“Oh, the old-fashioned definition of face-time used in the deep long ago,” I teased.
“Otherwise known as our childhood.”
We quieted down as the waiter brought us water and menus. I took a sip and smiled at Noah, feeling excited to be sitting across from him.
The hot lawyer was still in a beautifully tailored, gray suit that probably cost more than three months of my rent. The tie he wore was light blue and brought out his eyes. The man had such style. I was casual in comparison.
“How old are you?” Noah asked out of nowhere.
“Twenty-seven.”
“Huh.”
“What?”
“You look younger.”
I smiled and raised my eyebrows at him. “Compliment?”
“Cold statement of fact,” he grunted.
“Cold?” I asked, surprised.
“Neutral?”
“Hardly.”
“Fair point,” he agreed with a nod.
“Impartial?”
“Again, hardly. I think the most accurate word would be objective.”
“Close enough,” I agreed. “Do you like it?”
“The word objective? Sure, I mean it's—”
I laughed. “No, I mean, do you like that I look younger than I am. I mean some guys are into that, or so I've heard.”
Noah grinned and played with his napkin. “Oh, I see what you mean. I don’t really know. I don't tend to notice much about that. I mean I won't say I don't notice at all. That would just be silly, but unless someone looks under-age, it doesn't have much influence on whether I'm attracted or not.”
“So, I could be forty-seven, and you would still be interested?” I asked as a challenge.
Noah thought for a moment. “Sure.”
“Would you, you know, fuck me?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me and a blush covering my cheeks. I wanted him so bad. We seemed to have good sexual tension, but as a virgin, I wasn’t quite sure.
“If you were forty-seven? Or now?” he asked in a breathless whisper, leaning over the table towards me.
I could feel Noah’s body heat. Part of me wanted to lean forward and meet his sexy lips, but my nerves held me to the booth. “Either,” I admitted, glancing down shyly.
“Yes.”
His answer shook me, but I still wasn’t sure. I glanced up to meet his blazing blue eyes. “To which?”
“Both.”
It was hard to keep my mouth from hanging open.
The waiter came over to take our order, but suddenly I wasn’t hungry anymore.
Chapter Eight
Emma
Midway through our meal that night, Noah got called away on legal business. I was disappointed and couldn’t wait to see him again, which happened a few days later.
It wasn't as uncomfortable seeing the hot lawyer again as I thought it might be. I had basically asked straight out if he would fuck me, though I had done it with enough of a hypothetical that it took some of the edge off. I certainly thought about it, though. Particularly when he turned up right outside the cafe as I was getting off work in yet another example of the great power of coincidence.
“Hey,” Noah said, waiting outside in another tailored suit and dress coat — looking sharp.
�
�Hey,” I said, kissing him on the cheek.
“Wow,” he said, sounding surprised and backing up just a bit.
“Sorry,” I said, thinking he might not have wanted me to.
“No, it's okay, just took me by surprise is all.”
“I can be somewhat spontaneous.”
“So, I noticed,” he said, it now being his turn to blush. The red making his sharp cheekbones even more apparent.
“I guess it makes sense that you would be surprised, being such a tactician and all.”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
He stopped in his tracks. “You don't think I'm stalking you, do you?”
I giggled and wiggled my hips at him. In answer, Noah rolled his eyes.
“I just think you’re really organized and really keen,” I teased. “I mean, you do usually text first or only.”
“And if you didn't want to see me, I would leave,” he argued.
“Good to know,” I said, meaning it more than my tone might have implied.
Before I could kiss him again, on the lips this time, I heard a set of very familiar footsteps coming up behind us.
“My two favorite people,” Jim Howell joked as he approached.
“Really?” Noah and I asked at the same time.
“Of course!” Jim said, with all the earnestness for which lawyers were famous.
“I think your wife might have something to say about that,” Noah said with a grin.
“I did say my favorite two people. Vicky is in the singular.” Mr. Howell raised his dark eyebrows like he expected us to find him a genius.
“Ah,” Noah laughed.
“I see,” I confirmed.
“How is your lovely wife these days?” Noah asked as we all started walking towards the parking lot.
“Fine, thanks for asking. We were both a bit run thin when James was born, but now that he's older, it’s eased off a bit. Especially for her.”
“I can imagine,” I said, wondering what it would be like to have to nurse several times a day.
“We're actually planning a date night tonight.”
“How sweet!” Noah said.
“Serious?” Jim asked.
“Of course,” Noah said, nodding.
“I can't always tell.”
“Me either,” I said, trying to make Jim feel better.
He stopped. “Hey, why don't you two come with us?”
“Sorry?” I said.
“Come again?”
“It can be like a double-date,” Jim said with characteristic enthusiasm.
“I'm sorry how old are we?” Noah asked.
“You think it sounds what? Adolescent?” Jim asked.
“I was thinking more old-school,” Noah said, “When was the last time you heard of someone going on a double date?”
“Other than Vicky and me?” Jim asked.
“Yes,” Noah confirmed.
“Sometime around 2000.”
“Exactly.”
“Retro is hip,” Jim pointed out.
“You've seen my car, right?” Noah asked.
“Exactly, so, you'll come?”
“What do you think?” Noah asked, conferring with me.
“Sure, sounds like fun,” I said, liking the idea of Noah and I being on a real date.
“Great, we'll meet you at La Fromage at around seven.”
“Lovely,” Noah said.
“Great,” I concurred.
Jim kept going on his way and Noah and I both looked at each other, it clear from our expressions that we were both thinking pretty much the same thing.
“Did he say La Fromage?” I asked.
“He did.”
“Does he know what that means?”
“Probably not, which is why he was able to say it with a straight face,” Noah observed.
“That makes sense. I wonder why they call it that.”
“Most likely irony, assuming most American's wouldn't speak French well enough to get it.”
“Oh, okay. I thought maybe they had a lot of cheese-based dishes.”
“Well, you never know, it is a French restaurant,” Noah quipped.
“They can get rather excited about their cheese,” I agreed.
“I'm not sure if that is prejudiced or not,” Noah mused.
“Could be though it seems more like a stereotype.”
“True. Prejudices can come from stereotypes, but stereotypes aren't in themselves prejudices.”
“Oh yeah, talk dirty to me!” I joked.
“It was a wee bit pedantic, wasn't it?” he said blushing again.
“It actually is pretty sexy,” I admitted, “
“Really?” Noah asked, genuinely surprised.
“Brainy is the new sexy, baby,” I said, putting on my best salutary voice, “especially when you blush. Very cute.”
“Oh,” he said, blushing even harder.
“See, there it is again!”
I gave him a kiss of consolation on his warm, crimson cheek, and we headed out to our respective cars to prepare for the night's events.
At home, I debated what I should wear. My inner rebel wanted to be true to myself and dress like I normally do. Though my voice of reason told me to try my best to fit in with the restaurant, which I knew to be very fancy despite its in-joke of a name, as well with dashing Jim and his stunning wife, Vicky. They really could be on the cover of a magazine.
I searched until I found my one little black dress. The one my brother gave me when I finished high school. I couldn't really be sure if it was meant as a joke or not, being more of a jeans skirt and baggy top girl up until that point, but I decided to try and be touched deeply at, what I assumed to be, a thoughtful gesture.
I had actually lost some weight since high school when my hormones sorted themselves out, and the dress fit even better than when I first received it. I turned and spun in the mirror and looked at myself at all possible angles, liking what I saw. While not exactly skimpy, the skirt of the dress going down almost to my knees, the dress hugged me in a way that accentuated my curves as much as concealing them.
The next grand question was whether or not I should wear underwear. I decided to be naughty and go commando.
La Fromage was as fancy as it sounded. At least to those who did not know that it literally translated to The Cheese. A name which made me think of a sign with a giant wheel of brie. The image made me smile.
“Good evening,” said the host, with particularly good English.
“Good evening. I am Noah Wells, here to meet Jim and Vicky Howell.”
“Right this way, sir!” the host exclaimed taking off like he'd just heard a starter's pistol.
“Wow. Must be nice to be able to name drop,” I said as we hurried after him.
“Yes, it is,” Noah agreed.
Jim and Vicky were already at the table when we arrived, making me feel even more like we were intruding than I did before. I really wasn't sure about this double date. Jim just seemed like he would be happy to have us there, and I wanted to be there for him, and really, it was a thrill to be going on a date with Noah, even if it was, technically, someone else's date.
Sadly, it wasn't as romantic as I might have hoped. Jim was fine, but Vicky kept looking at me askance, and I wasn't sure why. I thought maybe she was under the impression that I had designs on her darling husband. I liked Jim alright but not in that way.
Then I wondered if she might have a thing for Noah, at least on a purely aesthetic or hormonal level, like how couples will have a “freebie” list of people they can sleep with and their partner can't get mad. Though, usually, the list is made up of pretty unlikely scenarios. Usually being made up entirely of completely unattainable celebrities both male and female. Basically the same, in terms of likelihood, starting a sentence with 'and then, when I catch a unicorn.'
“So, how did you two meet?” Vicky asked icily.
“He came into the cafe when I was working,” I blurted, com
pletely forgetting about the thing about us meeting online.
“How romantic,” Jim said, more charitably then needed.
“Really?” Vicky asked, arching a perfectly shaped, red eyebrow.
“Sure, like something from a RomCom,” Jim doubled down.
“Remind me again, who is the girl here?” she snapped at her husband, drinking down some red wine.
“I would say the one who had the baby and did the nursing dear,” Jim said calmly.
“Good point,” Vicky said dropping it.
When it came to banter, Jim was nearly bullet-proof. Then again, so was Noah. It was easy to see how they got to be friends.
Things weren't much better when the food came. Not that Vicky ate that much. And there I was with an entire seafood platter. I guess if you have money all your life it changes your relationship to the necessities of existence. I still wasn't one to turn down free food. Just in case. I wondered if we should have ordered another bottle of wine or two. Probably two.
“You don't think he needs you, do you?” Vicky asked between the entree and dessert, while Noah and Jim were otherwise engaged. Something about how the eleventh Doctor was better than the tenth, with Noah coming down hard on the side of Matt Smith.
“What do you mean?”
“I know about the fucking fake fiancée charade. My friends have done it before. We’ve suggested it to other people. It has worked of course but come on, let's be real. With the body and face that Noah has, he really doesn't need any help from anyone. Don't get me wrong, hon, you really look hot, but hot girls are a dime a dozen in his world, they throw themselves at him all the time, and I have never heard about him saying no.”
I had a sudden pain in the pit of my stomach. It could have partly been the oysters but was mostly a natural reaction to the truth bomb that had just been dropped. Suddenly, I really didn't want to be there anymore.
“I-I have to go, I have a stomachache,” I said, hauling ass from the table and out the main doors into the cold night, not giving a solitary fuck who noticed.
