“Neither of us should drive,” I realised aloud, clutching his forearm more for balance than anything. Though I couldn’t help but notice the firmness of said arm.
“Its taken care of,” he answered easily.
It was — he had a driver waiting outside, in his black car.
We sat in the back and I stared out the window as we drove, entranced by the city lights. For some reason, I felt lighter and more carefree than I had in a long while.
The club was full as it always was on Friday nights. I normally tried to avoid working then. But I didn’t mind walking in with a handsome billionaire on my arm, I had to admit. He somehow found us one of the small tables and we sat for a minute. But I refused another drink. I was in danger of losing my composure as it was.
“Do you dance?” Rick asked, shouting to be heard above the din of dance music.
“I love to dance!” I answered back loudly. It was true — I did love to dance, but normally only with a group of girlfriends around me. But the music was catchy and I was in a good mood, and I was already moving with the beat a little.
“You should go up there,” He yelled, as we leaned closer together in order to be heard. He jerked his hea d toward the dance floor where young people gyrated and grinded against each other.
I screwed up my face. “Really?”
“Sure! I’d like to see you dance.”
“Are you coming with me?” I grinned impishly.
He laughed. “No. I want to watch you.”
A little thrill of excitement went through me. Did he really find me attractive? I examined his face closely, squinting a little. His expression was serene and earnest. So I left my handbag on the table in front of him and ran off to the dance floor.
I danced alone amongst the crowd of people, knowing I was being watched, and I’m not ashamed to say I put a little seduction into my moves. I gave into the music and let it flow over me, lost among the milling, grinding bodies.
It was a long while before I stopped, exhausted, and realising how thirsty I was. So I went to the bar to order water, waving off the questions of Cindy, one of my fellow bartenders, pretending I couldn’t hear her.
I took my icy water back to the table and eased up onto a stool, with some effort.
“Nice moves.”
“Ha.” I sipped deeply through my straw.
Rick laughed easily. “I mean it. You looked like you were having fun.”
“You don’t dance?”
“I do. Not normally among a crowd, though.”
“At home by yourself?” I grinned. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I do it.”
“I enjoy dancing with a partner, in a more intimate setting. But I did like watching you.”
I crossed one leg over the other, letting my foot swing carelessly.
We talked/yelled conversationally for a while, and after a time I noticed he was checking his watch more frequently.
“You have to go?” I asked, gesturing at the watch.
He sighed. “I’ m really sorry Jess, yeah. I have a few things I absolutely need to get done early in the morning.”
I giggled. “Don’t apologize — you’re the one conducting this interview.”
So we left, and I took his arm easily this time. I was tired, and still a little fuzzy from the alcohol. I told the driver where I lived and we started the drive home. I nodded a little in the back, and fought the urge to rest my head on Rick’s shoulder.
He opened the door for me, gentlemanly again, and I stepped out, trying to preserve my modesty as my skirt rode up my thighs.
He looked up at my building. “Do you need to go up stairs? Are you going to make it?”
I giggled. “Not many stairs. I’ll be fine. I have done this drunk many times.”
“Oh really?” He asked, a teasing note in his voice.
I chastised myself. “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t say that, okay?”
He was standing close to me, before the big double doors at the entrance to the building. I still held onto his arm.
“I had a good night, Jessie. Thanks for showing me where you work.”
“Me too. Umm, thanks for dinner!” I answered. I licked my lips. He was tall, and looked down on me even in my heels. He really was unspeakably hot. “Just how inappropriate would it be for me to kiss you right now?” I blurted out.
He smiled, with a little laugh. “ I won’t tell if you won’t.”
So I reached up and curled my hand around the back of his neck, and drew him in for a long, slow kiss. His lips were soft and dry, and his breath tasted like wine when he parted them slightly. Unwittingly, I pressed my body closer to his, and felt his hand rest lightly on the small of my back. Little bursts of excitement bubbled up in the pit of my stomach — and lower — and I fought to restrain myself, flicking the very tip of my tongue over his lip before gently pulling away.
His body was firm, and he held me comfortably, looking down on my face with his soft smile. I could feel the evidence of his arousal pressed against me, and my own answering throb. With difficulty, I removed my arms from his neck.
“I’ll see you on Monday.” He murmured, putting his hands on my waist as we reluctantly disengaged, leaving me feeling weak. “We’ll sign those contracts.”
I smiled and nodded, biting my lip to stop myself from making a fool of myself by inviting him up. “Goodnight, Rick.” I said instead.
“Goodnight Jess.”
He watched my back as I entered and walked up the first few steps. I had to take off my heels to make it upstairs on my shaky legs. I stripped off my clothes as soon as I made it inside, and fell into my bed. But as tired as I was, sleep was out of reach. My skin prickled. I still felt his lips on mine, his hardness pressed against my hip, his arm around me.
Unthinking, I ran my hands over my body, cupping my heavy breasts, lazily teasing the nipples. My fingers trailed down over the soft rise of my stomach and found the small patch of hair between my legs. I brushed them over my wetness, rubbing my clit, then slipped one easily inside. I imagined his fingers on me, rubbing, stroking. I wanted to feel his strong hands on my hips. His tongue… oh god. My climax came quickly, and I cried out in short bursts as the shocks of pleasure rocked my body.
I was immediately suffused by a warm, comforting fatigue. Wrapping the sheets around me with a smile on my face, I slept.
The weekend dragged.
On Monday morning, I was up early, eager to get to work… And though I struggled to admit it to myself, eager to see Rick again.
I dressed conservatively. The button-down shirt I chose was a little tight, and my breasts strained against the fabric, but with my short skirt and black stockings the overall effect was good. I allowed myself red lipstick, and pulled my hair back.
The receptionist was expecting me, and ushered me into Rick’s office. He wasn’t in — she directed me into the little room off to the side, and I entered. It was small but the view was the same vast cityscape, and there was a spacious desk, and a couple of indoor plants. I took a look at the equipment, checking out the phones and computer while I waited for Rick, or at least someone, to tell me what to do.
Half an hour later I heard him noisily enter, and peeked around the doorway to look in on his office. Seeing him had just the effect on me that I suspected it would — unexplained happiness bubbling up from within me, and I smiled to myself. He was dressed in a charcoal suit, looking harried and busy — the complete opposite of his relaxed self at dinner. The reading glasses were back, and he was carrying large folders and poster boards. I watched as he put it all down. Then, feeling like an eavesdropper, I knocked on the doorway to get his attention.
Rick’s head jerked up, and a tired smile spread over his face immediately. “Good morning,” he said. “Glad to see you didn’t change your mind.” He leaned back against his desk, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Why on Earth would I change my mind?” I asked, laughingly. I wasn’t sure how to approach him. The way we’d said goodnight the other day made it awkward. I didn’t want to appear unprofessional, but I didn’t want to be cold either.