CHAPTER 5
Ari
She looked adorable as she slept. Her head had fallen on my shoulder and soft snoring emanated from her slightly-parted full lips. I didn’t have it in me to wake her and instead continued to respond to my endless emails on my cell phone. I ran a global conglomerate and the work didn’t stop at six o’clock. With offices around the world, I worked 24/7. There was always another fire to put out or some decision requiring my attention.
But it was hard to concentrate with her so close to me, her sweet touch and scent sending bolts of desire to every part of my body. I had fucked her. Fucked her hard. And I’d loved every fucking minute. She was so frickin’ tight, almost like a virgin, but I knew that wasn’t possible with the way she fucked. It was the best damn orgasm I’d ever had, one that had barreled through me like a freight train, taking me to a place I’d never been.
I was still a bit stunned by my actions, especially since I’d never done this with a stranger on a train before. Especially not with a beautiful stranger, who I’d fantasized about for months. Most of the time, another self-absorbed suit sat next to me. But today, the unpredictable beauty named Fate had taken his place. I’d often heard that Fate was a bitch, and believe me, I knew her, but this Sarah—oh Saarah—must have been her angelic twin sister. I planted a chaste kiss on her silky hair trying to process my emotions and contemplate my next step. Any form of involvement was so not what I wanted. I’d been with a lot of women, all of them conveniently disposable. Not one had sent me to the moon like she had. While I drunk in my brunette beauty, with her intelligent, sensuous face, not a single stop sign popped up in my head. She was different. Impulsively, I kissed the top of her head again.
As the train made its next stop and the conductor shouted out the name of the station, she stirred, and the large satchel bag on her lap tumbled to the floor, spreading its contents at her feet. I cast my eyes down and surveyed the array. Not too bad. Carefully, without waking her, I bent over and picked up the satchel, and then retrieved each item that had spilled out, one by one. First her thin red wallet. I know I shouldn’t have been nosy, but curiosity got the better of me. I unzipped it and wasn’t surprised it didn’t contain much money—a single twenty dollar bill and about a dollar’s worth of change in the coin compartment. Tucked inside were a Visa card and her driver’s license. I slipped the latter out and studied it. The photo looked just like her—with her high cheekbones, full lips, and wide-set brown eyes; she photographed like a million bucks. So her full name was Sarah Greene; she was twenty-five-years old having just celebrated a birthday, five feet nine, weighed one hundred twenty pounds, and she lived on the West Side. Two twenty-five West Forty-Fifth Street in the heart of the theater district. I committed the address to memory and then slid the wallet back into her bag.
The next item I retrieved was a small leather notebook that looked to be a journal of sorts. I flipped it open and began to read it. Every page was filled with famous sayings and lines—some inspirational, others humorous, and a few quite profound. I skimmed them quickly, chuckling when I came to the last one: Think big. I shared the same philosophy; bigger was definitely better.
After putting the journal back into her bag, I reached for another notebook—a sketchpad—with one hand, and with my other, I gathered up a mechanical pencil and a pack of colored ones. After dropping the pencils in her bag, I opened the pad. On the inside cover was a message:
IMPORTANT!
If found, please return!!!
Call me at 212-555-9696 or email me at [email protected]
THANKS!!
Girl toy was more like it I thought, flashing back to our bathroom encounter. My still swollen cock stirred at the thought. I quickly added her name and phone number along with her email address to my contact list on my cell phone before leafing through the pages of the notebook. Page after page was filled with impressive portraits of a young woman with soulful eyes who looked a lot like her—perhaps an older sister? An interspersed among these drawings were detailed sketches of weird looking creatures, gizmos, and vehicles. She must be some kind of designer or artist. With her bohemian attire, she looked like the artsy type. She was indeed very talented…in many ways.
I carefully placed the sketchpad back in her bag. Bending down again, I reached for a plain white envelope. Unsealed. I peeked inside at the contents—it looked to be a ticket to an event. Curious, I removed it and my eyes grew wide—it was a ticket to the highly coveted Black Eyed Peas reunion concert tonight in the park. They’d sold out quickly in less than twenty-four hours, and even I, with all my connections, couldn’t score one. Who the hell was she and who did she know? Maybe Ms. Artsy had a boyfriend connected to the band. Or fucked one of them. Jealousy, an emotion that was alien to me, raised its ugly green tail in my chest.
She stirred again, and afraid she might wake up, I quickly put the envelope with the ticket back inside her satchel and gathered up the rest of her belongings. Some lip gloss, a hairbrush, a few loose receipts, a tampon, a hair elastic, a checkbook with a balance of eighty dollars, a set of keys, and several packs of Big Red gum. For toting such a large bag, she sure didn’t carry all that much. “Less is more,” my late father always preached, but I knew better than that as I glanced down at my still raging cock. And somehow, I thought there was much more to this girl than met the eye.