CHAPTER TWO
I was exhausted by Friday night. My twelve hour shift at the hospital had been grueling. All I really wanted to do was to crawl into bed and slip into a blissful oblivion, but I knew that had to wait. Midterms were next week. I should have cancelled my date with Mark, but I wanted to see him and felt bad about not spending more time with him. I hadn’t intended to blow him off, I was just spread impossibly thin.
We had a nice dinner, but I had to admit that I was half asleep. I just couldn’t focus. I’d asked him to repeat himself so many times that eventually I’d just given up and nodded with feigned interest while he carried the conversation like a dead body across his shoulders. Lord knows I felt like one.
After dinner, Mark walked me to the door of my apartment and waited as I pulled out my key.
“I had a good time.” He smiled down at me, his dark eyes drinking me in.
“Me too,” I said, hoping there’d been some conviction in my words.
“You were quiet tonight.”
“I’m sorry. It’s not you. I’ve had a long week.”
He moved closer and crowded me against the door, his hands cradling my waist.
“I’m glad it’s not me.” His lips hovered over mine.
I could smell his spicy, masculine scent mixed with a trace of cigarette smoke. Mark was a smoker. That didn’t really bother me too much, but I hated the way the odor perfumed his personal space.
His lips covered mine. The kiss was slow at first, then grew deeper as his tongue delved into my mouth. I groaned and arched against him, leaning into the kiss. He was a good kisser and I let my body relax against his. My arms found their way around his neck and he grabbed my ass and pulled me roughly into him. His thick erection pushed into my belly through our layers of clothes and groaned again.
Mark had a tight athletic body and broad shoulders. His hands slipped under my blouse and he cupped my breasts through my bra, slowly kneading them the way I liked. Arousal coursed through me, making my flesh throb and my breath quicken. I realized that it’d been a long time since I’d had sex. A little more than a year.
I’d broken off with my last boyfriend because he’d gotten too serious. He’d started planning a life for me I couldn’t see myself being a part of. At twenty-three, I hadn’t been ready for that kind of commitment—still wasn’t. My life was too complicated to do serious, and apparently it was too complicated to do casual.
Mark and I had enjoyed some heavy petting on our last date. I’d even given him a sacrificial blow job, but we hadn’t yet done the deed. I supposed it would be the next logical step in the natural progression of things, but although my body seemed willing, my head just wasn’t into it. I broke the kiss and leaned back against the door, trying to create some distance between us.
“I have to be up early.”
“I might be able to help you fall asleep.” He smiled, disappointment already darkening his eyes.
“I’m afraid that I won’t be doing much of that either. Although I’m exhausted, I have to study for the next few hours.”
His thumbs and forefingers moved to pinch my nipples and my breath hitched as pleasure streaked through me. He smiled hopefully.
“You sure?”
I bit my lip and nodded. What was wrong with me? This man was gorgeous. I was horny. His cock was memorable and apparently, it remembered me too. It would be good with him. I could tell. My body tried to convince my head that having sex would improve my focus when studying, but my brain wasn’t buying it. Girl, you know that orgasms put you right to sleep! You’ll fall right into a climax-induced coma and get nothing done!
He tweaked my nipples again and added a pump of his hips, letting me know what I’d be missing.
“Sure?” he whispered, nuzzling my neck.
“I can’t anyway. My roommate’s home.” I lied. She’d gone to visit her parents for the weekend.
He straightened and sighed, letting his hands drift slowly down my torso.
I shaped my expression into an apologetic smile, hoping to ease the rejection. I really did like him and I wanted to see him again.
“I owe you. When midterms are over we’ll go out again.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” He smiled and kissed my lips, then waited for me to open the door.
“Night.” I waved as I closed the door and leaned heavily against it. I wanted to sink to the floor. I was so tired that I just wanted to curl into an S and fall asleep right where I was, but I looked at the textbooks that were still piled on the table, opened to the pages I’d been reading this morning.
Ironically, this chapter was on human sexuality. I sighed. I could have had some hands-on experience with an in depth review of the male anatomy.
I made it through the next few days of work relatively unscathed, studying whenever I could. On Monday, I had a few free hours after class and stopped by Charles’ building. He’d texted me that he’d received my list and the supplies were ready to be picked up.
I was annoyed that he hadn’t just sent them straight to the house as I’d requested in my note, but I didn’t want to be argumentative. Instead, I politely asked him to leave the supplies with the doorman and I’d pick them up on my way to the house.
The lobby was lively with people coming and going. I approached Rudy and asked for my items. He frowned, having no idea what I was talking about. Smiling politely, he called up to Charles.
“Mr. Whitmore asks that you come up, ma’am.”
I sighed, not in the mood for another gawking session. I’d specifically asked him to leave the items downstairs.
“Please tell him that I’m pressed for time and would appreciate it if he’d bring everything down.”
I don’t know what Charles said to Rudy, but the man paled and hesitated before he handed me the phone.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Why can’t you just fucking come up? When I say you do something, you fucking do it!”
I paused at Charles’ harsh tone, momentarily taken aback. A dark threat had laced his imperious words, sending a cold frisson along my skin. Anger quickly chased the feeling.
“Excuse me?”
He must have heard the indignant disbelief in my voice that I made no attempt to disguise because his startled breath came shivering through the receiver. I couldn’t believe that he’d spoken to me that way. It was bad enough I had to put up with his disrespectful leers, but this had crossed the line. Job or no, I wasn’t putting up with this shit.
I absolutely refused to capitulate and go upstairs. This was some bizarre power struggle for him, an attempt to exert control. I had to make a conscious effort to stem my rising anger and I reminded myself that he had the maturity level of a child. A moment passed, then I heard him sigh loudly on the other end.
“I’m sorry. Hang on,” he rushed out.
The phone went dead and numbly, I handed it back to Rudy. A few minutes later, Charles got off the elevator and walked briskly across the shiny lobby. He was a mess, bare footed and jumpy. The ends of his wrinkled shirt were hanging open, revealing smudged lipstick and a line of hickeys across his pale chest. He’d probably been partying all night. When did he ever go to class?
“Angie, I don’t have the stuff yet. I wanted to explain that to you in person.”
The fucker had lied just to get me here.
“Just let me know when you do. And please have them delivered to the house as I’d requested.” I said curtly and turned to leave.
He grabbed my arm to stop me and I shot a deadly gaze to the spot where his hand gripped me. A gaze that my sister would’ve given several exclamation marks. Charles abruptly removed his hand, dropping it like he’d been singed.
“I’m sorry, Ange.”
Ange?
I turned back to him and sighed wearily. “Listen, Charles. I do not like being manipulated. You said the stuff was ready to be picked up, obviously that wasn’t the case. I specifically asked that the items be delivered to the house. I have no desire to come up to your apartment or to see you in any capacity other than professional. I thought I’d made that clear.”
And stop staring at my tits! I wanted to add, but thought better of it.
“I understand,” he said, but I wondered if he did because his lips tilted with a small smile.
“I hope you do.” I added.
“I do. Please, please forgive me. I’m sorry.”
He gave me a wounded animal look and I couldn’t help but throw up my hands in exasperation. A strand of blonde hair fell onto his forehead and his blue eyes were wide and pleading. He pulled his bottom lip through his teeth before pushing his lips into a thick pout. I bet he used that look on women often. It wasn’t working for me.
“And I don’t appreciate being spoken to like that.” I said firmly.
“I had a late night last night. I’m grumpy.”
I’d bet…
“Don’t be mad. Friends?” he pleaded.
“You employer. Me employee.” I countered, but softened my voice to let him know that I was no longer angry. I was annoyed, but most of my initial anger had dissipated.
“I guess I’ll have to settle for that.” He smiled broadly.
I turned to walk away, then turned back as I remembered something.
“Does your father know that I’m cleaning the house?”
He looked confused for a moment, as though he didn’t know who I was talking about. He shrugged. “Yeah.”
“You told him?”
“I emailed him.”
I frowned. “And what did he say?”
“He never responded.”
“So how do you know he got it?”
“I’m sure he did.”
I noted there wasn’t much certainty or concern in his voice. I tilted my head and regarded him, curious about his father. “The house doesn’t seem safe for someone to live in.”
He shrugged. “He’s been there forever.”
I waited for more of an explanation but he didn’t expound. I didn’t want to prod. It was none of my business. I said goodbye and walked the few blocks to the house, enjoying the sunshine on my face and the stretching of my legs. I grabbed a quick coffee on my way.
I loved walking and it had the added benefit of keeping me fit. It was rare for me to take a cab. I walked everywhere. The backpack riding me was filled with books and my laptop. I figured I’d study when I took breaks.
I let myself in through the iron gate and approached the house, my footsteps slower than usual, almost idle. I stared up at the second floor, increasingly curious about what was up there. Was the second floor in the same dilapidated condition as the main floor? How could anyone let a beautiful house like this deteriorate to such a degree? This family was obviously very wealthy. Why not refurbish the house? And how could anyone live in such disordered chaos, such clutter?
I shook my head in wonder as I passed through the front door and made my way to the area I’d created a few days prior. I was disappointed that I didn’t have cleaning supplies. There wasn’t a lot I could do without them. Most of the items that required sorting needed to be dusted or cleaned first. I studied a nearby totem pole of books I’d planned to topple. At least I could get started on that task.
I dropped my backpack and jacket on the wooden coffee table, and taking a sip of my coffee, I grabbed a few books and got started. The first few books were so weathered and damaged that the covers wouldn’t open. I tossed them on a pile for the trash, then grabbed several more to look over.
Soon I got into a routine and was pleased that I was shaving more and more off of the top of the pile. I worked methodically over the next hour, finding a rhythm that soothed my mind and lulled me with a gentle calmness.
I still had that overwhelming feeling of being watched that made my skin buzz with sensitivity. It wasn’t unpleasant or intrusive, just a whispered breeze of sensation. I chalked it up to being in a new environment that was overcrowded with stimulation.
Working out a crick in my neck, I stood up to stretch. I walked toward a large window that started at my waist level and peaked just short of the high vaulted ceiling. The heavy drapes were pulled open and soaked in a fluffy layer of dust.
Grime covered the thick glass, imprisoning the bright sunlight. I thought if I could just clear a spot of filth from the pane, I could let some rays escape into the dismal room. I surveyed the scene, looking for something I could use for the job. My gaze landed on a group of paintings leaning against the wall. The white sheet covering them would be perfect.
I scooted between some overturned furniture and started tugging at the cloth. Dust billowed around me and I swatted it away from my face, coughing. I pulled carefully, trying not to overturn the artwork. They were massive pieces, some larger than me. My hands stilled as the first painting was unveiled. Fascinated, I eased closer to get a better look. The piece was in surprisingly good condition.
A man—a very striking man—stood leaning casually against a desk in a study. His presence dominated the painting. He appeared tall and lean with wide shoulders and long legs. His short dark hair was neatly subdued, but the painter was able to hint at the irreverent waves. The man was formally attired in a dark suit with a light blue tie that perfectly matched his eyes. Eyes that I couldn’t tear my gaze away from. Strangely, I felt as if they were staring back at me, looking deeply into me, aware of my presence.
His blue eyes were impatient, yet simultaneously crinkled with mirth. I imagined that the painter must have told him a joke to try to relax him. I tilted my head and stared at his face, noting the strong line of his jaw and the definition of his chin. The painter had shaded his striking features with strength and determination. Without thought, I reached out and ran my index finger along the curve of his cheek and down the strong column of his neck. I don’t know how long I stood there caressing the painting. It was only when my cell phone rang that I realized what I’d been doing.
All of this dust must be polluting my brain! I laughed at myself as I clicked the keypad to answer the call. It was Jenny, my roommate.
“I’m back.” I heard when I answered.
“How was it?”
“Not bad. I actually ate food that didn’t come from a can.”
“And you didn't spontaneously combust?”
“Came close. I missed my MSG and artificial preservatives.”
“Plenty in the pantry. If you hurry you can reverse the effects of your healthy eating.”
“Already into my second can of corned beef.” She laughed.
I winced. Jenny would sit with a spoon and just eat her meals right out of the can. Her dietary habits were atrocious.
“Don’t forget the SPAM.” I added sarcastically.
“That’s my entree. Hey, thanks for cleaning. Where’s my toothbrush?”
“Bathroom.” Where it belongs, I wanted to add. Not the kitchen counter.
“Sneakers?”
“Hall closet.” Not under the table.
“Thanks. How was your date with Mark? You two hook up yet?”
“No.” I sighed.
“What?!” she shrieked around a mouthful of corned beef. “Why the hell not?”
“I don’t know. Listen, I’m at work. We’ll talk later.”
“Wait! Did you get your ticket yet?”
Oh, shit. I’d forgotten to tell her that I wasn’t going. Maroon 5 was scheduled to be in town in a month playing at the amphitheater in Brooklyn. I’d love to go, but I just couldn’t afford the ticket right now.
“I’m not going to the concert.”
“Why not?” she whined.
“I can’t afford it.” I said truthfully. “I have bills and school to pay for.”
“I’ll spot you.”
“No way. I can’t let you do that. I’ll see Maroon 5 another time.”
“But—”
“Gotta go. I’m at work. We’ll talk later. Missed you.” I hung up quickly.
I put the phone back in my pocket and my gaze was drawn back to the painting and those stunning blue eyes. They were the same color as Charles’. This must be his father.
The painting was obviously done when he’d been a young man—I guessed in his mid-thirties. I looked for a date on the painting. There was a tiny scribble at the bottom, under the artist’s signature. Nineteen-eighty. I did some quick calculations. If he was in his mid to late thirties in this painting, that would put him close to seventy now. I still couldn’t believe that he, or anyone for that matter, lived in this house. Confusion and pity blended to a nebulous emotion. My heart squeezed tight, saddened that an elderly man resided in such horrid conditions.
I continued to study the captivating man in the picture. His eyes were his only similarity with his son. Where Charles was light, this man was dark. Dark hair, dark slashing brows, olive complexion. His hands, like his body, were large, his fingers lean and capable. There was a deep intensity to him that I found strangely compelling and a complexity that wasn’t easily defined. I laughed at myself again, realizing that I’d been standing there for God knows how long, staring at a stranger in a painting that was done over thirty years ago. And worse, I’d allowed my thoughts to construct some wild assumptions.
I carefully peeled the sheet off of the top of the gilt frame and walked back to the window. I turned the dusty sheet inside out, glad that the other side wasn’t as filthy and started on the window. After about fifteen minutes of a good arm workout, I had cleaned a patch big enough for some eager light to burst through. I was excited when it flooded the oasis I’d created with a checkered pattern of golden hues. Triumphant, I returned to sorting the books.
I worked for about another hour, chastising myself every time my eyes drifted to the painting across the room. I was surprised that it was such a distraction. Realizing I hadn’t gotten any studying done, I picked up my backpack and shrugged it onto my shoulders. I’d have to devote the rest of the evening to my books. My first midterm was in two days. Unable to help myself, I stopped at the painting before I left, letting my eyes slowly absorb the piece.
Getting two of my four midterms out of the way was a great relief. I was so happy, I could sing in the streets. And I did. My classmates and I left the quiet science center and exploded noisily into the street at Astor place, singing a hodgepodge version of Bohemian Rhapsody at the top of our lungs. Pedestrians on the street, mostly students and business owners, ignored us but we did get a standing ovation from a homeless man on the corner.
Jenny was also getting her Masters in Nursing so we took most of the same classes. As we walked down the street, she had one arm around me and the other snaked around one of our classmates, Susan.
“Let’s get some grub and then we can hit the bars!”
I laughed. “Hit the bars? It’s only three o’ clock.”
“We’re getting a late start. Kim and Diane finished their exam at noon and they’ve already started bar hopping.” She looked around to the girls in our group. “Who’s got the map?”
Jenny was referring to two girls who lived down the hall from us. They’d choreographed an extensive bar hop around the downtown area in celebration of surviving today’s midterms.
Ava produced a folded sheet of paper from her pocket and started reading the list of stops on the agenda.
I’d been up all night studying and was exhausted. Although I still had some nervous energy running through me from all of the Red Bulls I’d consumed, I wasn’t in the mood to bar hop. My fingers were itching to sketch. The park was nearby and it was a beautiful day with lots of sunlight. My spirit was restless. I wanted to be outside, not stuck in a crowded bar.
“I’m gonna pass on this,” I said. “Maybe I’ll meet up with you guys tonight. I’m going back to the apartment to sleep.”
A few of the girls started to protest.
“She pulled an all-nighter,” Jenny said in my defense.
“If I can manage it, I’ll join you guys later.”
I dispensed a few anemic hugs, then took off in the opposite direction toward my apartment. Instead of going to bed, I got my sketch book and some charcoal and headed back out.
Fifteen minutes later, I was sitting on a park bench doing what I loved. I could feel the anxiety and tension from today drain away as my hand scurried over the blank page. First I sketched a little girl who was playing with her mother not far away from me. Then a few drawings of the landscape.
I sat and thought for a minute, thinking of the painting I’d seen a few days ago at my new job. I remembered the strong jaw, the high forehead and cheekbones, and the touch of a smile on an otherwise impatient face. Inspired, my hand started moving, flying across the page. I was surprised to see the work when it was finished. I drew in a deep breath and stared. Just stared. I could barely take my eyes away from it. A fine tremor moved through my body. Feeling foolish, I quickly turned the page and forced my gaze back to the landscape.
The following day, I stopped by the townhouse to work. I was surprised to see that the cleaning supplies still hadn’t arrived. I couldn’t imagine what could be taking so long. It had been a week since I gave Charles the list. I wondered vaguely if he was just fucking with me. Seriously, how hard could it be? He could get one of his minions to pick up the stuff. Or I could just order what I needed online and have it delivered.
I took a sip of my giant cup of coffee and placed it on the table then took out my laptop. I decided to do some research to see where I could find my supplies. I clicked my computer on and waited. Seeing the message that said there was no internet connection was disappointing. I hit a few buttons and waited. Still no internet. I needed a password. I sighed and sat for a minute. My eyes did a slow patrol of the painting of the beautiful man. I stared out of the small clean circle on the window, my mind churning, then I got up and started toward the kitchen stairs.
I just needed the Wi-Fi password. It wasn’t as if I was bothering him. This was important. Charles had said he’d emailed him, so the house must have internet capability. Plus, I did feel like I needed to introduce myself. I was coming to this house almost every day and would be doing so for some time. My dad would say that it was only good manners.
I hesitated at the bottom of the stairs with my foot on the lowest step. I looked up and saw total darkness. Taking a deep breath, I started to climb. There was a door at the top of the stairs that was slightly ajar. I stuck my head through the doorway. It was strikingly quiet. Maybe he wasn’t even here.
“Hello?” I yelled, then felt bad for making so much noise.
The door opened into a large hallway that was illuminated by ambient light. There were stacks of books against the wall. No surprise there. I noted they were all newer and in better condition than the ones downstairs. However, the hallway walls were dark and stained, and the plaster was cracked and peeling in several places. I took a tentative step forward, calling out again. No response. What if the old man was hard of hearing?
I peeked into an enormous room off to my right. It was filled with mismatched furniture and cluttered like downstairs. There was a desk and a computer against one wall. An ancient treadmill with some dumbbells, and more books. The faint smell of mildew lingered in the air accompanied by a damp chill. A bald light bulb hung from the ceiling in the haphazard room, but the windows were clean and natural sunlight prettily bathed the space.
A room on the other side of the hall was carpeted with a layer of books and magazines. I couldn’t see the floor. Then I spotted a door at the end of the hall that was slightly ajar and I approached it. My heart started to beat wildly.
A streak of movement through the opening caught my eye and I drew closer, curiosity guiding my feet. A man was sitting in a chair facing sideways so I could only see his profile. I watched as his limbs unfolded, stretching out long defined legs. He was wearing a towel around his waist.
I got a partial view of his body and let my eyes drift over his bare torso and arm, thinking how beautiful the lines were. His muscles were honed and tight. His hair was wet and fell around his head in dark waves. He must’ve just come out of the shower. I couldn't see much of his face, but he was definitely not a seventy-year-old.
In a daze, I followed the solid muscles of his shoulder, his flexing bicep and the sweep of his forearm. Slowly I realized that his hand disappeared under the towel. The rhythmic moments under the towel were what finally intruded into my brain and slapped it into stark understanding.
Oh my God! He was jerking off!
I swallowed hard, my heart rate picking up speed. I couldn’t believe what I was witnessing. Heat suffused my body, hot and singeing. I knew that I should’ve crept silently back down the hall, but I couldn’t. I was frozen. Oh God, what if he heard me? I tensed my muscles, ready to turn and ease away when the man’s towel fell open. I had to bite my lip to jail the gasp that wanted to leap from my tongue. Holy mother of mercy! This man was beautiful. I couldn’t see clearly defined abs or the V that was always a turn-on for me, but his stomach was flat and toned.
His cock stuck straight up from a thatch of dark hair. The shaft looked heavy and thick, and was probably the largest I’d ever seen in real life. I stared avidly as it slid in and out of his fist, the crown fat and glistening with moisture. I watched, riveted as a bead of precum trickled over the swollen head and he captured it with his long capable fingers, pumping with increased vigor.
My breath was shorter now, sawing roughly through my parted lips. Every muscle in my body was tense and primed with acute arousal. My nipples hardened to bullets and my breasts swelled and ached as they pushed heedless against the restraint of my bra. This was, by far, the most erotic vision I’d ever seen in my life.
The man moaned and threw his head back, the sexy rumble a vibrating throb that made my pussy weep copiously. God, I’d never been so aroused.
He shifted in his chair, his hips flexing, and he seemed to grip his gorgeous cock tighter. His eyes squeezed shut and his breath rushed between his parted lips. Over and over he stroked his thick shaft, and I felt his touch and drowned in the pleasure of it. My legs trembled and fluid seeped from my body, soaking my underwear with warmth and trickling down the insides of my thighs. If I touched myself now, I would come instantly. The ache in my groin was almost maddening in its intensity and it was centered in my exquisitely swollen clit.
His body shuddered and another moan rolled from deep in his belly. I watched his jaw bulge as his hand moved with lightning-fast speed up and down his distended shaft. Then it seemed that all of the muscles of his body locked stiff, and with a tortured groan, he erupted, squirting over his fist and spraying his stomach and chest with semen. Fucking magnificent.
I had a hammering compulsion to crawl between his legs and lick every last drop from his body. So much so, that my taste buds leaked with the want of it.
His body jerked several more times in the chair and for a moment, I was afraid that it might topple backward or break. I held my breath, awed by this amazing moment. I looked down at my hands that were marked with fine tremors. When I glanced back up, I almost screamed in gut-wrenching shock. Sharp blue eyes glared at me. My palm flew to my mouth and I knew that my eyes must’ve been as wide as saucers.
The man’s piercing eyes narrowed, then his face pinched in tremendous anger.
“GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!”
The deep roar of his yell was deafening and I did not have to be told twice. With terror in my heart and adrenaline shooting through my veins like liquid fire, I scrambled down the stairs as fast as my legs would take me. I grabbed my laptop, carelessly knocking over the coffee in my haste. Still shaking like a leaf, I shrugged on my backpack and flew through the door.
I walked the fifteen blocks to my apartment with my laptop clutched to my chest, my body shaking. I was in a daze. I had no recollection of the route I took to get home, or of anything that I saw on the way. My mind was racing. I was mortified that I’d not only intruded on such a private moment, but that I’d stayed and eagerly watched.
I couldn’t believe what I’d done. To be honest with myself, it wasn’t only my actions that I had trouble wrapping my brain around, but also my reaction. Even now, my flesh still throbbed with arousal and my vaginal walls quivered with small burning spasms. I ran up the six flights to my apartment and burst through the door, thanking God that Jenny wasn’t home. I stripped naked on my way to the shower, leaving my clothes where they landed. My body teetered on the edge of an abyss, about to take a head-long plunge. I needed a cold shower. I hoped it would clear my head and cool my overheated skin. In the small stall, I let the icy spray needle my back as my hands soaped my slick skin. Reaching between my legs, I stroked a few times, and came harder than I ever had in my life.