Chapter Twenty
November
“Cara mia. Time to wake up, you little sleepyhead. I’ve been watching you sleep for the last half hour, and I’m real close to jumping your bones. And since I’m not a real fan of necrophilia, I’d prefer you were awake while I’m fucking you.”
“Mmm.” Cara made a little sound deep in her throat that was part purr of pleasure and part groan of protest at being woken from what had been a very sound sleep.
The dark-haired, very naked, and very aroused man who was snuggled up behind her equally naked body chuckled at her reaction. “All right, have it your way then,” he murmured in a low voice. “I’d rather have your full participation, but I want you too much to wait a minute longer.”
But when one of his big hands cupped the heavy weight of her breast, his fingers tweaking the nipple, Cara gasped in reaction. And when the other hand slid between her legs and began to tease the damp flesh there, her eyes flew open wide.
Dante laughed huskily, his stubbled chin rubbing against her flushed cheek as he continued to spoon her. “Ah, there she is! Good morning to you, Cara mia. And I can’t think of a better way to start the day than sliding inside of this sweet, hot pussy.”
“Ahhh.” She was already breathless, already aroused, when he took hold of his fully erect cock and ran the broad head along the seam of her pussy.
Despite his very obvious arousal, he seemed in no particular hurry to complete his possession of her body. He took his time with her, sometimes thrusting his fingers with slow precision in and out of her vagina, other times rubbing his thumb over the hard nub of her clit, and still other times running his penis first against the cleft between her buttocks and then teasing the very wet creases of her inner labia.
She was so aroused by the time he finally began to feed his cock inside of her, one maddening inch at a time, that she came the moment he thrust all the way in. Her vaginal muscles clenched like a fist around his cock, causing him to growl in reaction. He sucked the skin on the side of her neck, hard enough that she knew it would leave a telltale mark, and began to increase the force and frequency of his thrusts.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” he rasped in her ear, both of his hands cupping her breasts. “So damned hot. I love these big tits, love the way your tight little pussy squeezes my cock like a vise. And I love y-”
Cara’s eyes flew open at that precise moment, just before her dream got really, really good. Not, of course, that it hadn’t been truly amazing up until now, but, gee whiz - did it really have to end now, just before the Dante of her dreams said the words she’d always wanted to hear from his gorgeous lips.
She dragged herself reluctantly to a sitting position, pulling her thighs up against her chest and resting her head on her knees. Her cheeks were flushed from sleep, as well as the vividly erotic dream she’d been woken from by the rude, insisting buzzing of her phone alarm. She knew without having to check first that she’d be wet, and that it would probably just take a few brief strokes of her fingers to make herself come. After all, this was far from the only stimulating dream she’d had about her former lover.
But she resisted, because she knew it just wouldn’t be the same. Oh, there might be some brief, temporary pleasure, but any sort of orgasm she could provide for herself would be a total letdown after the true bliss she had known in Dante’s arms. It was also why she had adamantly refused to even think about getting herself out there again - as Mirai had so crassly put it. Cara had dated a string of losers once before in her life, those months when she’d been so sad and lost and lonely at college, had settled for sex that was so spectacularly unspectacular that the recollection made her shudder in revulsion now. The fact of the matter was plain and simple - Dante had ruined her for other men, always and forever. Being with him for those few months had been a once in a lifetime experience, something that an ordinary girl like herself had simply lucked into, and would never be so fortunate to experience again. No, at some point, she’d have to settle for a nice but probably bland guy, one who would make her a good husband and be a great father to their kids. But the likelihood that he would ever come close to rocking her world the way Dante had was slim to none, and it made her feel very, very sad to accept that fact.
What also made her very, very sad at this moment was that it was still dark outside, freezing cold inside her apartment, and that it wasn’t even four-thirty in the morning. She was mightily tempted to re-set her alarm for an hour from now, crawl back under the covers, and hope that somehow she might join her rudely interrupted dream in progress and get to the end this time.
Instead, she flung back the covers and hopped out of bed before she could lose her nerve, flicking on a lamp as she did so. She had set her workout clothes out the night before so that she wouldn’t have to fumble around for them sleepily this morning, and therefore find one more lame excuse for skipping her morning exercise routine. Her teeth chattered from the chill of the room as she stripped off her pajamas, then donned her exercise gear in record time.
She’d also loaded up one of the DVD’s that Mirai had loaned her into the fragile but still functioning laptop the previous evening, so that it was ready to go now. As she waited for the computer to power up, Cara did some stretches and kept her fingers crossed that the ancient laptop wouldn’t freeze up halfway through the disc. She figured she only needed to deal with the temperamental old electronic device for a couple of more months, until she received her year end bonus from Angela and Nick and could finally afford to buy a new laptop. She’d already begun to do some research on the best model she could get for the money, and hoped to have plenty of cash leftover to save for next semester’s tuition.
Cara yawned sleepily as the DVD finally booted up, and she reluctantly began the forty-five minute workout. After scanning Mirai’s admittedly impressive collection of exercise videos, Cara had chosen the Insanity Workout, only to find from day one that it was very appropriately titled. For the first week or two of attempting the workouts, she’d felt alternately dizzy, out of breath, nauseous, and horribly out of shape. But slowly but surely her endurance and flexibility had improved, and she was able to get through the daily routines without stopping now.
It still wasn’t any fun getting up so early on workdays in order to fit in a workout, especially now that it was so dark and cold in the mornings, but Cara forced herself to do just that. Weekends were better, of course, since she could sleep in later, as well as vary her exercise routines a little. Weather permitting, she’d been going for long walks and hikes in various places around the city - Golden Gate Park, Marina Green, the Presidio - and had recently begun incorporating a slow jog into part of the workout. Little by little, acknowledged Cara grudgingly, she was whipping herself into shape.
She was sweaty and out of breath by the end of this morning’s workout, guzzling down a full glass of water to recover. Sugary, calorie-laden sports drinks weren’t part of her diet plan, nor were they budget friendly, so she mostly stuck to water these days. There were a lot of different foods, in fact, that she’d brutally eliminated from her diet - or, more accurately, Mirai had ruthlessly crossed them off the list she’d compiled of allowable items.
Once Cara had placed that call to her BFF announcing that she was on board with this so-called makeover, Mirai had jumped into action immediately. Even though the two girls had just spent most of the weekend together, Mirai had headed over to Cara’s place for what she’d deemed a farewell meal - though as it turned out Cara wouldn’t be saying good-bye to her friend, but to nearly every single item of food and drink that she loved.
Cara had stared glumly at the list of “Acceptable and Unacceptable Foods” that Mirai had cheerily drawn up, with the latter the far longer of the two columns.
“No alcohol at all?” she’d asked wistfully. “Not even an occasional glass of red wine? I’ve heard that it actually has health benefits.”
Mirai had given her a stern look. “It also has a hundred and twenty five calories, Cara. And since you’ll only be consuming around thirteen hundred calories a day, do you really want to waste that many on a single glass? Especially since alcohol is basically empty calories, no nutritional value at all.”
Cara had sighed in surrender. “Fine. No wine. No sugar. No pasta or bread or butter. In other words, no fun.”
“Cheer up,” Mirai had chirped. “It won’t be that way forever. Once you drop the weight, you can have an occasional cheat meal. And speaking of the weight, might as well see what your starting point is.”
Cara had squawked loudly but eventually gave in and stepped on the scale - though she’d insisted on stripping down to her underwear and weighing herself barefoot to eliminate every additional ounce. She hated weighing herself more than anything in the world, shuddered to see the dreaded number that popped up on the scale, and thought that she’d rather have a root canal, a bikini wax, or one of those horrifically painful Korean foot massages she’d seen demonstrated on TV rather than get on the scale.
But she’d been rather pleasantly surprised to see that the number on the scale was actually a few pounds lower than the last time she’d weighed herself, and realized that since the breakup with Dante her appetite had been waning. Plus, she hadn’t been going out to dinner with him on Fridays, or cooking a big meal for them on Saturdays.
Nonetheless, even with the five pounds or so she’d managed to drop without even trying, she still had a long way to go until she achieved her goal. At Mirai’s admonition, she didn’t weigh herself every day, only a couple of times a week. And thus far, between the diet and exercise, she’d lost an additional seven pounds, enough that some of her old clothes from college and even high school were starting to fit reasonably well. But since most of those items were of the jeans and T-shirt variety, they weren’t things she could wear to work, so her day to day wardrobe continued to be sparse.
Still, she was gradually beginning to feel a lot better about herself, had more energy, and the confidence that she’d be able to see this thing through to her goals. Cara didn’t think she would ever be slim enough to be able to fit into Mirai’s size two wardrobe, but honestly didn’t think she would ever want to. All she really wanted was to look trim and toned and healthy, and feel more confident about her appearance. And if that meant dragging her ass out of bed at some ungodly hour of the morning so she could fit in a workout, well, in the end it would hopefully be worth it.
She took a quick shower, grimacing a bit when the water refused to heat up past the lukewarm stage. It took what seemed like forever to rinse all the shampoo out of her long, unmanageable hair, and Cara longed for the day when she had saved enough money to have it cut. She was still intent on having her out of control curls professionally straightened, and tried to imagine how she would look with long, sleek locks - much like Katie Carlisle’s shiny blonde tresses.
“Stop it!” she scolded herself as she toweled off. “Remember, you are not supposed to be thinking about Dante or Katie or what expensive restaurant he’s taking her to dinner at or how many new dresses he bought her. And you are especially not supposed to be comparing yourself to her. You and Katie are two completely different people, and while you might not ever be in her league, you’re doing all the right things to feel better about yourself. So there!”
Cara wrapped her ratty old bathrobe around her, and pulled on a pair of threadbare slippers as she padded into the kitchenette area. She grimaced as she heated some water to make a bowl of oatmeal, one of the foods that Mirai had placed on the top of the list of approved items.
“It’s super low calorie, very filling, and cheap,” Mirai had declared. “But don’t start adding in stuff like brown sugar and raisins or you’ll defeat the purpose.”
Cara had made a horrible face. “I hate oatmeal,” she’d muttered. “Always have. It tastes like sticky paste. Blech.”
Mirai had given her a playful swat on the ass. “You might hate it,” she’d declared cheerfully, “but your butt will love you for eating it. Especially when said butt is several inches smaller after you lose all that weight.”
Six weeks into her healthy eating plan, Cara still wasn’t convinced about the oatmeal. Sprinkling cinnamon and Splenda over it helped some with the taste, but she didn’t think she would ever really get used to the texture. Still, Mirai was right in that oatmeal was both filling and cheap as well as very low in calories, so Cara dutifully spooned it into her mouth in between sips of green tea.
She’d also cut way back on coffee, mostly because she liked to drink it with lots of cream and sugar, and also because it wasn’t cheap. She would usually wait until she arrived at the office to get a cup since it was free there, but had grudgingly switched to using nonfat milk and Splenda in the brew.
She swallowed another spoonful of oatmeal, doing her best not to shudder. “What I don’t do in the name of vanity,” she commiserated out loud.
The rest of her daily menu wasn’t much better - a scant handful of dry roasted almonds mid-morning; a bowl of vegetable soup and some carrot sticks for lunch; a piece of fruit in the afternoon. For dinner on the nights she had class, she microwaved a Lean Cuisine she kept in the mini-fridge in Angela’s office, and then nibbled on a protein bar for dessert. On the other three nights of the week, she cooked something healthy - usually a small piece of chicken or fish and some steamed vegetables. And she allowed herself one tiny, delicious square of dark chocolate a day.
She quickly rinsed out her breakfast dishes before heading off to dress for work. Because her hair was so long and unmanageable - and also because her hair dryer had recently kicked the bucket - she had started pulling the heavy tresses back into a damp ponytail or braid on workdays. Beyond a flick of mascara and a swipe of lip gloss, Cara didn’t bother with makeup.
She pulled on underwear, pleased to note that her bra felt a little looser. Impulsively, she dragged the scale out from beneath the sink and stepped on it, and was rewarded for her bravery by the discovery she’d dropped another pound this past week. That made her overall weight loss thirteen pounds, with less than ten to go until she reached her goal.
The waistband of a skirt that had always been snug was also much looser now, and she realized that she was going to need to move the button over a few inches. At some point she would need to buy new clothes, but she was determined to wait until she dropped those final pounds before rewarding herself in that way.
Just before shrugging into her coat and heading out the door, Cara gave herself one last critical look in the bathroom mirror. She looked - good, she realized in some surprise. And not just because of the weight loss that had put some definition in her cheekbones. Her skin looked healthier, more luminous, no doubt due to all the water she was drinking and the elimination of junk food from her diet.
But it wasn’t just the physical changes that had made a difference. She appeared calmer, more mature, and somehow more serene. Each day that passed made the heartbreak she’d suffered after losing Dante a tiny bit more bearable. She was gradually starting to come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t a part of her life any longer, and would never be again. She was focusing all of her attention these days on work, school, and taking care of herself, both physically and emotionally. She was also giving some serious thought to her future after she finished her degree next year, considering the potential jobs she might apply for, and even thinking about other cities she could move to and get a fresh start in.
Cara had feared that breaking off communication with her father would be too hard to deal with, and that sooner than later she would cave in and get in touch with him. So far, though, she had stuck to her guns and resisted the urge to call or text or email him, replaying that last conversation with him in her head anytime she was tempted to go back on her word. Mirai had been thrilled to learn she’d basically told Mark to go kiss off, and even happier that Cara wouldn’t be going to Florida for Christmas and using the money on herself.
She wasn’t going to lie and swear that Mark’s neglect didn’t hurt like hell. But if she was being honest with herself, the current situation wasn’t really any different than it had been in years. She had always been the one to reach out to him, the one to cling desperately to their one-sided relationship. And perhaps not so surprisingly, she was actually happier now that she wasn’t constantly trying to get her father to pay attention to her. After all, she theorized, if she didn’t willingly put herself into situations where he could ignore her, then it shouldn’t hurt so much when he continued to keep his distance.
There had been no attempt on her father’s part to change her mind about traveling to Florida for Christmas, and it was now well past the time where she’d be able to book an affordable plane flight anyway. Thus far, Cara hadn’t let herself think about Christmas, and the fact that she’d be alone for the first time in her life. First up was Thanksgiving, just over a week away, and she’d be spending it at Mirai and Rene’s condo along with several of their friends. Cara knew she’d be doing most of the cooking, since the two sisters were terrible cooks - this despite Mirai’s short-lived stint at the culinary academy. But Cara didn’t mind in the least, relishing the opportunity to use the spacious, modern kitchen at the condo. It was also a small way to repay Mirai for all of her generosity and support.
It was still dark outside during her two block walk to the bus stop, since the sun wouldn’t come up until seven o’clock or so at this time of the year. Cara was always watchful, always aware, whenever she had to walk to and from her apartment in the dark, whether early in the morning or late at night after returning from school. Fortunately, this formerly semi-rundown neighborhood was gradually being revitalized. There was such a shortage of affordable homes in San Francisco nowadays that prospective buyers were venturing into less popular areas just so they could own a place. In the two plus years she’d been living here, a number of homes had been sold to new owners, who in turn had worked hard to spruce their houses up.
Still, though, there remained any number of places that were on the shabby side and badly in need of some TLC. Not to mention the cars that drove by her as she walked briskly along, sometimes with occupants who would make lewd or suggestive comments directed her way. Cara always kept her cell phone in her pocket at the ready in case she needed to whip it out and call 911 in a hurry. Thus far it hadn’t been necessary but she was determined to always remain on the alert. She’d even considered buying a canister of pepper spray, but had never been able to spare the money. Now with winter approaching, however, she was beginning to re-visit the idea.
She arrived into the office before Nick and Angela, but right around the same time as Deepak. They nodded to each other before jumping right into work. Leah and Tyler arrived minutes later, and by seven a.m. the phones were already ringing. Angela and Nick walked in shortly thereafter, his arm looped around her shoulders as though he was lending her assistance to walk.
Cara frowned, surging to her feet in concern. “Hey, are you okay?” she asked a pasty-faced Angela worriedly. “You don’t look so good. I mean, you look like you don’t feel well. You always look good, I didn’t mean to imply..”
Nick held up a hand. “We get it,” he assured Cara impatiently. “And to answer your question - no, this one is most certainly not well. She’s been out of it for a few days, actually - tired, nauseated, dizzy. But do you think she’d actually listen to me for once and stay home? Nope. Stubborn as hell, as usual.”
Angela glared irritably at her handsome, but domineering lover. “As I recall, I used to listen to everything you said. And do as you said, too. Those days are long over, Mr. Manning. And I’ve told you three times already that I’m fine now. It’s just a bug I caught but I’m working through it.”
Cara looked her boss over thoughtfully. “Hey, I’m not taking sides in your little spat here, but I do have to agree with Nick - you don’t look at all well. Why don’t you let me call an Uber for you so you can go home and rest? There isn’t that much on the agenda for today, and I’m sure the rest of us can handle it.”
“No.” Angela shook her head stubbornly. “If there’s one thing I hate, it’s taking a nap or being idle during the day. I’ll be fine, honestly. It’s better if I keep busy.”
Nick shook his head and shrugged. “Fine. Have it your way. But if this so-called bug of yours hasn’t improved in a few days, I’m dragging your ass to the doctor for a check-up. Cara, do me a favor and keep an eye on her, hmm? Don’t let her overdo it. And let me know if she looks ready to pass out again like she did earlier this morning, would you?”
“Absolutely,” agreed Cara readily. “How about if I get you some coffee now, Angela?”
Angela shuddered. “For once, coffee sounds terrible. Must be a side effect of this bug. Do you mind getting me some tea instead?”
“Of course not. I’ll head over to the lunchroom right now. Nick, can I get you a coffee?”
Nick smiled and gave her shoulder a little squeeze. “That would be great, kiddo. Thanks, Cara. You know, you’re going to make someone a great wife and mother one of these days the way you always look out for everyone.”
Cara gave him an impish grin in response. “Not if I become a super successful investment banker. Maybe I’d wind up married to my career instead.”
Nick made a sound of disapproval. “Nah, you don’t want to do that, kiddo. You’d run the risk of turning into Angela’s old boss Barbara Lowenstein. Sorry to speak ill of the dead, but that woman - and I use the term loosely - was the biggest ballbreaker to ever walk this earth. You’re way too much of a sweetheart to ever become like her.”
Cara’s cheeks flushed with pleasure at Nick’s rare compliment, and she hurried off to get the promised cups of tea and coffee. As she did so, a sudden thought popped into her head, one she impulsively shared with Angela as she placed the mug of tea in front of her.
“You, uh, aren’t pregnant, are you?” she asked her abnormally pale boss tentatively.
Angela shook her head firmly. “Impossible. My birth control method is nearly foolproof. I’ve used an implant for years, never failed me yet. And it’s not due to be replaced for several more months. No, I’ve just got a good, old-fashioned bug. Pretty sure I caught it from my nephew when we were down visiting my family in Carmel last weekend. Giovanni was pretty sick as I recall.”
Cara arched a brow in surprise. “Your nephew’s name is really Giovanni? Is his father a native born Italian or something?”
Angela grinned. “No, just a pompous ass. He and my sister make a good pair. Nick says they both need a good slap on the inside of the head for sticking the poor kid with that name. But, hey, enough about my annoying family. I wanted to give you a heads up, Cara. Nick mentioned that Dante is coming into the office today for their monthly meeting and lunch. I’m just going to assume that you haven’t spoken to him since that time he called last month?”
Cara’s heart had started beating a little faster at the mention of Dante’s name. “You’d be correct in that assumption. I have this sneaking suspicion that he’s figured out what time my lunch hour is and always calls Nick then. There’ve been at least two or three times when I got back from lunch and overheard Deepak or Leah talking to him on the phone.”
“Hmm. You’re probably right. What a spineless jerk,” scoffed Angela.
Cara shrugged. “It’s really all for the best, if you want my opinion. I know it’s been two months already, but I’m still not sure I’m ready to see him face to face. Stupid of me, I know.”
“Not at all,” assured Angela. “Hey, when Nick broke up with me I was so devastated that I actually quit my job so I wouldn’t run the risk of seeing him every day. Gave up everything I’d built up and started from scratch, too. My old mentor Barbara really laid into me when she learned about that, told me to never do something so stupid again, and to remember that men always looked out for their own interests first.”
“I guess so. I know my father was always that way with my mom,” admitted Cara. “But I can’t really say the same for Dante. I mean, he always treated me with respect when we were together, was always kind and considerate. But I’m still not sure I’m strong enough to see him just yet.”
“I sort of figured that. Which is why I’ve got several errands for you to run today,” announced Angela with a knowing little smile. “And they should conveniently keep you out of the office for the duration of Dante and Nick’s meeting.”
Cara walked around the side of Angela’s desk to give her an impulsive little hug. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I know this is just postponing the inevitable, that I can’t keep doing this forever. But I don’t think I’m quite ready yet to face him. Maybe next time I’ll be strong enough.”
Angela squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Hey, you’re doing amazing, Cara. A thousand times better than I was after Nick broke things off. Then again, I was either drunk or hungover for the better part of a year so that’s not saying much. And I already know you’re way tougher than I was back then. So here’s the list of things I have for you to do before and after your lunch hour. If my estimates are right, you should arrive back in the office about half an hour after their meeting wraps up.”
Cara scanned the list of errands, which included dropping some documents off to one client, picking up papers from a different client, buying some office supplies, and a couple of personal tasks for Angela. Normally Angela wouldn’t ask her to do those types of things, but Cara knew they were simply reasons to extend out the time she spent away from the office and didn’t mind doing them in the least.
“Actually, why don’t you text me when you’ve finished with those things, and I can let you know then if the coast is clear?” suggested Angela.
“Okay. And thanks again for understanding. I really appreciate it.”
Angela nodded. “It’s no problem.” Her eyes narrowed speculatively as she studied Cara more closely. “Hey, you’ve lost some serious weight, haven’t you? That skirt is practically falling off you.”
Cara’s cheeks pinkened in mingled embarrassment and pleasure. “Not quite,” she demurred. “And I’ve still got a ways to go until I reach my goal. And, um, I’ve actually started jogging a little, only on the weekends though, since it’s way too dark before I have to leave for work.”
“You look great already,” assured Angela. “And don’t try to overdo it with the jogging. Build up your mileage a little at a time. Otherwise, you’ll have shin splints or tight hamstrings or a whole host of other problems. But bravo for you, Cara. They say looking good is the best revenge.”
Cara chuckled. “That’s exactly what Mirai told me. After she finally dragged me out of bed and sort of shamed me into taking some pride in myself again.”
“She’s a smart girl, your friend.” Angela took a tentative sip of the tea Cara had placed in front of her.
“You’re sure that’s all I can get you?” fussed Cara. “Have you had anything to eat this morning?”
Angela visibly shuddered. “God, no! Even the thought of a saltine cracker makes me want to retch. Maybe I will have an early day of it after all, go home after the market closes.”
Cara eyed her boss skeptically, placing a hand across Angela’s forehead. “You’re positive you aren’t pregnant? Because you don’t feel the least bit feverish to me, and you don’t seem to be having chills. So if it’s just the nausea and fatigue, well - you can connect the dots as well as I can.”
Angela shook her head fiercely, taking another sip of tea. “It’s definitely just a tummy bug. Absolutely. There is zero, repeat zero, possibility that I could be pregnant.”