Chapter 7

Leo

Damn. Two attractive people stuck in a cupboard all night, and I can’t touch her? I’m convinced that she’s a virgin.

That’s fine. As much as I want to ravage her I’ll keep my hands to myself.

Even though my dick’s been hard half the time we’ve been sitting in here.

As perfect as she looks, there’s something really appealing about the idea of exploring her amazing body in the total darkness. I bet she tastes divine.

Grace is great fun to talk to. At least if I had to get stuck in a closet, it’s with her. Even if I can’t touch her.

I angle my phone for light while she crawls on her hands and knees over the makeshift mattress. She lies on her side, with her back to me. The room is small, and there’s hardly any space between us.

I can’t help shining the light on her round ass. It’s as full as her tits are, and I’d love to get my hands on both.

“Why don’t you use my tux jacket as a blanket? You must be cold in just that dress.”

Before she can answer, I lay my jacket over her body.

“Thank you,” she says.

After my initial horror of being stuck in here with her, she’s turned out to be great company. It’s like the darkness stripped us of our differences. It made me not be a billionaire for an evening, and we were able to enjoy each other’s company as equals.

I really appreciate that she didn’t bring her company up again. I should listen to her pitch in the morning. As my way of helping her out.

Her boss will probably die of excitement when they find out she was locked away with me all night. And they’d think she was a massive failure when they hear she couldn’t even get me to listen to her appeal for their company.

She deserves that much.

What kind of company owners send out a twenty-three-year-old virgin to do their dirty work?

“I don’t need to use escorts, I choose to,” I say, my voice quiet in the dark.

“I was wondering. I mean, you’ve got money and you’re not lacking in the looks department. It seems weird to me that someone like you would use prostitutes.”

“Escorts are honest with why they’re with me. What’s the difference between a woman taking money directly from me or dating me purely for my money?”

“But not all women date you for your money.”

“Yes, they do.”

The dark hides the anguish on my face as I think back to Tina and the way she ripped my heart out. I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation with Grace. I don’t think I’ve ever vocalized it before.

“You can’t write off all women as gold diggers.”

“I don’t, just the ones who are interested in dating me.” My hand thuds against the wrapping on the toilet paper.

“That’s sad.”

“It’s my reality.”

“Well, I hope your reality gets better one day. Like maybe you’ll meet your own Pretty Woman or something.”

We fall quiet again, and I try to push all thoughts of Tina out of my mind.

After several moments, Grace says, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so judgmental.”

“You can be as judgmental as you want, so long as you’re not trying to get money out of me.”

Grace chuckles, the sound filling our little space with a lightness. I could get used to that sound.

“I never wanted money out of you, only…” her voice trails off. I know she was going to say the brand license, but her not saying it and not bringing up the reason she approached me fills me with a strange sensation.

Most people in her situation would have talked for hours about it by now. Here she is, the one avoiding bringing it up.

“I know,” I say, reaching across and patting her shoulder.

Even though the contact is brief, the softness of her skin blasts through me. I yank my arm away before I am unable to resist touching her more.

Grace swallows hard, and the toilet paper wrapping crinkles as she wiggles her body around.

“I have to fly to Tokyo tomorrow, I should try to get some sleep,” I say.

“Good night,” Grace says, her voice soft.

“Night.”

I roll onto my side but the weight on my hip crumples the toilet paper and I sink to the floor. This clearly isn’t going to work, and I flop onto my back again. My weight is more evenly distributed this way, making the makeshift bed marginally less uncomfortable.

Grace’s breath slows as she drifts off to sleep. I lie with my eyes open, staring at the blackness and listening to her. She has a soothing effect on me and for once, my mind isn’t spinning with a million different thoughts.

Normally, when I go to bed, I think about work for at least an hour before I finally fall asleep.

The soft sound of her breathing relaxes my muscles, and before long I’m dreaming.

Usually my dreams are filled with me being chased, or having to run from something. When I wake up most mornings, the fitted sheet has been ripped from the mattress.

Tonight, I dream of sitting in a field in the rolling countryside, looking out at hills. No one is bothering me for anything. No one wants anything from me. It’s only me and the beautiful view.

I pluck a daisy from the grass and pick the petals off when a woman says, “Leo.”

Twiddling the daisy between my fingers, it morphs into Grace. She’s naked, her heavy tits swaying as she swings a leg over me and straddles my crotch.

My cock turns to steel as she grinds against it. In my dream, I get more and more excited and in need of burying my cock in her pussy. My clothes vanish, and I roll her onto her back, ready to fuck her when my eyes spring open.

It’s still pitch black but there’s no mistaking what’s happening.

“Leo,” Grace murmurs as she grinds her pussy against my thigh.

“Grace,” I whisper but she doesn’t respond.

She’s got one leg between mine, her crotch tight against my leg. My tux pants and her panties are the only things between us. She’s humping my leg in her sleep.

Just like in my dream, my cock is rock hard. I have to undo the button on my pants to give it some relief. Though the only relief it wants is to be in Grace.

But I’m sure she’s a virgin, and this isn’t a very nice place to lose your virginity.

She moans, and her grinding intensifies. I don’t know what to do. Do I let her finish without waking her up, and never let on that she did this? Or do I wake her up?

I run my fingers through her hair, and once again whisper, “Grace.”

“Leo,” she moans.

I’m going to come if she keeps this up.

I gently shake her shoulder, and say, “You’re dreaming, wake up.”

“Huh?” she says, her voice groggy.

“Are you awake now?”

“Uh, yeah, where am I?”

“The janitor closet, remember?”

“Oh God, oh God,” she says, pulling her leg from between mine. My body screams in anger, demanding her leg back.

“You were having a good dream.”

“I, um, I’m so sorry. God, how embarrassing.”

“Don’t be sorry,” I say.

Gripping the back of her head to guide me, I close my lips over hers. She moans as my tongue slides over hers.