Chapter Twenty-Two
That afternoon, I get a message from Taylor, whose name I replaced yet again in my phone as a half-assed attempt to protect his identity.
Mr. Sexypants:
2323 State Street. 1:30. Wear the outfit in the garment bag in the guest closet please.
I Google the address and it is a regular residential building. It’s just after noon so I head to the closet to find the garment bag. Inside is a red lace bra, panties, garter and thigh-highs. A Post-it on the garment bag reads: “Shoes in the box below. Nothing over the outfit except your trench please.”
I open the box and there are sky-high patent leather red stilettos. Butterflies of excitement and anxiety flutter in my stomach. I can’t imagine wearing only this under my coat. The urge to deny his request flies over me for just a moment, but then the thought of the look on his face seeing me in the lingerie quickly erases the doubt. I apply the same red lipstick I wore to the interview. This time however, I let my hair out, wild and full of volume, just the way he likes it. I remember one last thing:
Shyla:
Pls do NOT send Harrison. I would die of embarrassment.
Mr. Sexypants:
Ok ;)
I pull up to the building. It is on a quiet dead end corner on the southernmost end of the downtown area, interspersed with other residential buildings and industrial warehouses. I get the closest available spot and walk to the front door, but it is locked. He didn’t give me an apartment number and there are dozens of buzzers to ring. As I stare at them nervously I feel someone’s presence behind me.
“Good lord Taylor. Do you always have to sneak up on me?”
“It’s just too easy. I can’t help it. Here, let me get that.” He pulls out a key that opens the front door.
“So can you tell me what we are doing here or is this a secret?”
“I own this building, that’s why I chose it. For what? You’ll see.” We hop into the elevator. He slides his key into a keyhole hits the top button on the 20th floor. He looks incredible for someone who got so little sleep the night before. His hair is slicked back, and he is wearing a perfectly tailored navy pinstripe suit with a light blue shirt. The top button is undone and he has forgone the tie, so he must not have any important meetings today. A warm flush radiates through his slightly olive complexion. His long lashes flicker up and down, reminding me of a butterfly calmly perched on a flower. His pout looks so soft, inviting me to kiss. I can’t help it. I want to be close to him. I felt so distant from him last night. I push him against the elevator wall and devour him. I can see his eyebrows rise, startled by my aggressiveness. He pulls down my trench, knowing what I am wearing underneath it. I hear the faint sound of the elevator door glide open. I try to pull away, thinking someone could be on the other side of the door, but he pulls me back towards him. He picks me up and I wrap my legs around his hips. His lips taste like sex. While I am not fully aware of our surroundings, I see that the elevator doors open directly to a large apartment. The trench is still hanging off of my shoulders and he puts me down for a second and looks me up and down. He grins.
“So hot. Come with me.”
I let the coat slide to the ground and he pulls me towards the balcony. My steps slow to a complete stop.
“No one can make out our faces up here, if they even notice us, but the rush will feel incredible. This neighborhood is really dead during the day.” I didn’t know he was an exhibitionist too.
My face is covered in worry.
“Trust me. If you don’t like it, we can stop, but just try.”
We step out on the balcony. The entire thing is made of concrete, even the barrier, so no one directly below could see us, but the building across the street can, and anyone down below at an angle could make out our top halves. There is a slight chill in the air and I feel my goosebumps rise. I lean my back against the barrier and watch Taylor rip off his jacket. He unbuttons just enough of his shirt to vigorously pull it off overhead. His abs ripple and contract with each breath, his firm erection nearly busting through his pants. He grabs me underneath my arms and picks me up, sitting me on the edge of the balcony. I flinch.
“Stay calm. I’ve got you. Wrap your legs around me.” I can hardly swallow or catch my breath. The stimulus of sitting on the edge of a 20th floor balcony coupled with the unbearable attraction to the man in front of me is more than this young heart can handle. He quickly undoes my bra. My instinct is to cover my breasts with my hands, but he gently pulls them to my side, kissing them and gently biting on the pale skin of my breasts. He works his way down my stomach and inner thigh. I can’t lean back as far I normally would, so instead I push my hips forward so that I am only half sitting on the barrier making it easier for Taylor to access me. Taylor has his hands on my hips keeping me secure. My lace panties are very thin, and so without removing them, Taylor runs his tongue on my clitoris. The underwear serves as a buffer between his tongue and me, allowing him to pleasure me longer without setting me over the top. Images of other men watching me, admiring my sexuality make me partly nervous, and partly stimulated. I feel like a fucking sex goddess in the sky.
“Turn around.” The excitement and nerves go up another level. Now I can see the world below and across from me. I can watch the people watching me. I see what seem like hundreds of windows across from me. Many shades are drawn. I can barely see a woman moving about in her kitchen, oblivious to what is occurring a hundred feet across from her. The occasional person walks by the street below, going through the motions. If they would just look up, they would see my dark brown hair and my breasts and the beautiful tall man behind me. He inserts himself. He runs his hand into my hair and grabs it tight at the roots. His other hand cups one of my breasts. My toes barely graze the floor because our height difference. He takes my hand and places it on my ass.
“Feel what I feel. Slap it.” I do. The softness of my own body turns me on. He puts his hand over mine and we both squeeze. I can feel him being turned on by this and it empowers me. I slap myself again. I squeeze a handful very hard. He takes his hand and rubs my clit as he bounces his hips off of my ass. He doesn’t thrust in and out, just maintains constant friction and before I know it, I can feel the rush building down below. My moans become louder and louder and he covers my mouth and nose. I don’t even try to breathe, I welcome the intensity as I come and come and come. Taylor’s not finished. He turns me around and pushes me down to the floor. His hard, throbbing cock begs for me to suck on him and I oblige, solidifying my powers as a sex goddess.
As usual, after our particularly kinky romps, I feel dirty and shy. I quietly grab my trench coat and see that I have a voice message. It is Chad from Rubix requesting I give him a ring. More nerves. I go to a quiet corner and call.
“Chad speaking.”
“Hi Chad. It’s Shyla Ball.”
“Hi Shyla! How are you?”
“Great.” If he only knew just how great. “And you?”
“Doing well. I am calling because I want to offer you the position. I think that your skills, but more importantly your personality and work ethic, will fit right into Rubix.”
“Wow. That is great to hear!”
We discuss salary requirements and other logistics. I do not accept immediately as a rule of thumb, but I tell Chad I will let him know within the next 24 hours.
I find Taylor on the balcony. My face must be glowing.
“You got the job didn’t you?”
“Yes!”
“Congrats! I had no doubt. Let’s head inside, this neighborhood has seen enough of us today. So did you accept?”
“Not yet, but I am going to,” I say as we walk through the vast open living space of the loft.
“So what do you think of this place?”
“It is incredible. Is this the penthouse?” The brick walls and old timber give the empty space a homey feeling.
“Yes. It was recently custom renovated.”
“It’s a dream.”
“It’s yours.”
The statement doesn’t quite register. “What? You mean you got this for yourself?”
“Well I hope I am welcome here, but I mean it’s yours. As in it belongs to you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I am not sure how else to put it. I had this renovated for you. Almost all of the condos are sold, but I held onto this one for you as a celebratory gift for the new job.”
“No! Absolutely not, Taylor. This is outrageous!”
“Please don’t fight me on this.”
“Taylor, I have my apartment and plus there is a lease on that thing.”
“It’s taken care of.”
I put my face in my hands in total exasperation.
“It’s just not right!”
“What is so wrong about this?”
“I can’t explain it. People just can’t accept gifts of this size from people.”
“So because of some stupid societal rule we can’t give each other big gifts?” He puts his finger up as if to silence me. “Before you go on, know this. I give what I want to give, and no amount of bitching about it is going to change that. Do what you want with this, but it’s yours.”
His statement takes the proud wind out of my sails and I let out an audible sigh. “Thank you.”
“I kind of thought that we could stay here most weeknights to have a faster commute to the office when I need to go in. That is, if you’ll have me over.”
“I’d like that.”
“Let’s go furniture shopping this weekend.”
“Okay, but somewhere normal humans go.”
“You can’t furnish a place like this with Ikea. We’ll work something out. You can pay me back with blow jobs if you feel so awful about accepting things from me. They are worth their weight in gold.”
I shove him. “Taylor! You can’t weigh a blow job!”