Chapter 4
Mason
Would it be weird? I didn’t know. I felt like it would be strange if I picked up the phone and called Brian after all these years. I couldn’t even remember the last time we had talked. I knew it was sometime after we’d graduated college. Then it was as if we’d faded out of each other’s lives.
I was guessing it was at least ten years, probably more, since I had seen him. No, strike that. I had seen him plenty. He was a local celebrity. I had seen his face on the news and on the various billboards and benches around town, but I hadn’t spoken to him in more than a decade.
Hence my problem. Was it totally weird to call him out of the blue? No. Not call. Text.
“Argh!” I groaned in frustration.
Why was this so hard? I wanted to call an old friend. I didn’t want to ask him out on a date. I wanted to check in. Seeing Lara had reminded me of the good times. Brian and I had been inseparable. He had been more like a brother to me, and then one day it seemed like he was gone.
Fuck it.
I dialed the number I had managed to steal off Lara’s chart. If he asked, I would say a mutual friend had given it to me.
“Brian!” I said when he answered the phone.
“Yes?” he asked, confusion in his voice.
“Brian, it’s Mason. Mason Chambers.”
“Mason?”
I chuckled. “Yep, it’s me. How are you doing?”
“I’m good. This is unexpected. Are you still in San Francisco?”
“I am. I have a medical practice—infertility clinic in Mission Bay,” I explained, waiting to see if he would mention Lara and her current situation.
“Good to hear. I’ve been doing the sports for a while now,” he said.
I laughed. “Yes, I’ve seen your face—a lot. I’m glad to see you’ve been so successful. You married? Kids?”
“Hell no. You?”
“Nope. Haven’t found the lady for me yet. Is your family still in the area?” I prodded, hoping he would bring up Lara.
“Mom and Dad passed away some years back. Mom had cancer, and Dad died in a bike wreck.”
“I’m so sorry to hear about your folks,” I said, following proper etiquette.
“Thanks,” Brian said. “Lara is still around the area. Actually, she lives in Mission Bay.”
I perked up at that tidbit of information. “Really? Is she married with a million kids?”
“Oh man. That is a long story,” he said.
“Oh no. That bad?”
“Worse. She was married. Guy made a ton of money with her by his side, but once he got rich, he turned into a cheating piece of shit. She’s had a tough time. Real tough. If I ever see the guy, I’d like to let him know exactly how I feel about guys like him.”
“That’s a tough deal. How’s she handling it?”
He let out a long sigh. “I don’t know. I guess she’s getting through it. She deserves far better than that piece of shit. She’s young, pretty, and I’m sure she can find someone who will treat her right.”
“I’m sure she will.”
“Well, I have to run, but I’d love to catch up some more. Can we meet for drinks?”
“Sure. That’d be great. You have my number. Text me or call me when you’re free. I’m usually off weekends,” I told him, thankful he hadn’t asked how I’d gotten his number in the first place.
“It was great to hear from you! Talk soon,” he said and ended the call.
I held the phone in my hand and felt a little guilty for prying into Lara’s personal life, but seeing her had made me curious. I had been unable to think of anything but Lara since I’d first laid eyes on her.
I paced my living room. It was a large, prestigious living room, befitting for a man of my wealth. I hated it. It was empty and cold. There weren’t any woman’s touches around the place. It was exactly as the interior decorator had designed it. It was supposed to be masculine and comfortable, and I guessed it was, but it was dull.
Talking to Brian had stirred up even more memories. Those memories were far less pleasant than the memories I had of Lara. Brian had found out about Lara and me and had freaked the fuck out. More than I’d expected him too. He had made me vow to never see her again. He couldn’t possibly know how far our relationship had advanced or the promises I had made.
I’d had to break all those promises to maintain my friendship with Brian. I’d chosen Brian like an idiot. I had loved Lara, but Brian had convinced me I wasn’t good enough for his little sister. He’d insinuated I was a predator. That was not the kind of reputation I wanted to follow me to medical school, especially considering my chosen field.
I’d let Brian convince me my feelings for Lara were childish and immature. The threat of severe bodily harm had helped persuade me. Brian was not a small guy. I wasn’t exactly a shrimp, but he was built like a linebacker. I was built like a quarterback. We were about the same height, but he was all muscle. He was the football player; I was the baseball player. I could admit the guy could have whooped my ass back then. Judging by what I had seen on television, he probably still could.
My phone rang, interrupting my musings of who would win in a fight between us.
I looked at the caller ID and debated answering the call. I should. It would be a very useful, needed distraction.
“Sally,” I said in a smooth voice.
“Hey, handsome. What are you doing tonight?” she asked.
“I don’t know yet. What are you doing?”
“You, I hope.”
Just like that. It was like ice-cold water had been dumped over my head.
“I think I may need some convincing. I’m awful tired,” I countered, hoping she could convince me to fuck her until I forgot all about Lara.
“Oh, you’re sleepy,” she said in a baby voice. “I think I can help you wake up.”
“I’m waiting,” I prompted.
“Are you sitting down?” she said in a low, husky voice.
“I am now,” I said, taking a seat in one of the overstuffed leather chairs in the room.
“Unzip your pants.”
I debated doing it, but the thought of Lara lingered in the back of my mind.
“Done.”
“I’m wearing that black leather thong you love so much, the one with the strings holding it together. That’s all I’m wearing. I’m lying on my bed, my legs are spread wide, and my free hand is holding my breast. You know how big my tits are, Mason. I can barely contain my left breast in my hand. It’s spilling out. I’m grabbing my nipple and squeezing. Oh! It’s making me wet. Mason, I need to be fucked hard. Will you fuck me?”
I reached down and rubbed my flaccid penis. She wasn’t doing it for me. “Keep going,” I muttered, hoping she could convince me to take her to bed. I needed to get Lara out of my system.
“I want to suck your dick. If I were there, I would be on my knees in front of you, slowly licking and sucking your big cock. Do you want me to suck you, Mason?” she purred in a voice meant to arouse me. “Reach down and grab your dick. Squeeze it. Pretend it’s my mouth on you.”
I reached down, grabbed my limp dick, and rubbed, trying to make it hard.
“Mason,” she said in a soft whisper. “I have a finger inside me. I’m so wet. I want your dick deep, deep in me. I’m sliding in another finger.” She moaned, and I felt a slight stirring.
“Keep going,” I grunted out as I furiously rubbed my dick, trying to get hard.
“My fingers are playing with my clit. I need more, Mason! I need your dick. I’m pushing in another finger. Oh, it’s stretching my pussy. Mason, are you ready? I’m going to come, Mason.”
There was a series of moans and heavy breathing as she rubbed out an orgasm. It should have made me hard, but I was still soft in my own hand.
She wasn’t doing it. I wasn’t interested. Sally was a sexy, beautiful woman who could make the women in Playboy look average, but my body wasn’t responding.
“Sally, I appreciate all your effort, but I have to pass tonight. I’m beat and I have a full day tomorrow,” I said, trying to be nice, but deep down, I didn’t give a shit.
“Mason!” she said angrily. “You dick. Whatever. You’re not the only cock in town. Don’t call me when you want a piece of ass. I might be busy.”
“No, you won’t,” I said, knowing full well it was my cock she wanted.
“Whatever,” she repeated like a petulant child. “I’ll call Dan. He’s always up for a good fuck, and hell, his dick is bigger.”
I laughed at her childish antics. As if I cared who had a bigger dick. I was long past those days.
“Bye, Sally. Talk to you soon,” I said, needling her a little more.
She wanted my cock and my bank account. The woman was essentially a whore looking for the wealthiest, most attractive man she could find. She wanted a sugar daddy. Usually, I didn’t care. Being one of San Francisco’s most eligible bachelors had its perks, but I wasn’t interested in meaningless sex at the moment. I wanted one woman, the same woman who had held my attention and heart all these years: Lara.
Sally would be back. I liked her well enough, but I wasn’t in the mood tonight. If I couldn’t have Lara, Sally would serve as a consolation prize sometime later.
God. Lara had ruined me. Would I ever be able to get hard again without thinking of her? How in the hell had I gotten back here? I was lusting after a woman who probably still hated me, sacrificing my sex life at the same time. I was headed down a cold, dark road of celibacy, and that scared the hell out of me. I liked sex. I enjoyed hot, dirty sex, and I couldn’t possibly get through life without it. I didn’t want to.
I wanted lots of sex with Lara. I closed my eyes and imagined Lara’s body under mine. Her long hair fanned around her as I pounded into her. I wanted to hear her moans of pleasure. Now I was hard, hard and wanting. Maybe I should call Sally back. No. I needed to wait and see how this all played out with Lara.
I would see Lara next week. Maybe she’d be a little more relaxed and we could chat. I could ask her out for coffee, keep it casual and see if she was interested in having anything to do with me. I had to start somewhere.
My mind drifted. The miscarriage had driven her into my office. I remembered her talking about children when we were young. I was surprised she didn’t already have kids. Clearly, that asshole she had married didn’t want them. It took a desperate woman to show up in my office. Lara was desperate for a child. That made me a little sad and a lot angry. How dare she be forced to take such drastic measures. I would have gladly given her all the children she could handle and loved every second of making those children.