Mid Life Love (16 page)

“Are you—” Jonathan walked into my office and stopped.
He looked back and forth between me and Michael and his lips curved into a
forced smile. “Good afternoon,
Miss Gracen
. And you are?” He looked at
Michael.

“I’m Dr. Michael Clarkson,” he said, reaching out to
shake his hand. “And yourself?”

“I’m Jonathan Statham.”

His eyes widened. “
The
Jonathan Statham? Of
Statham Industries? The CEO?”

“The one and only.”

“Oh. Well, I’m sorry if I was intruding on a meeting
or something, Claire.” Michael smiled. “I just wanted to stop by and see you.”
He looked me up and down. “You look stunning by the way...I don’t think there’s a
dress that wouldn’t look good on you.”

“You’re not interrupting anything.” Jonathan shook
his head. “It’s perfectly fine, Dr. Clarkson. I take a different director out
for lunch every day and it’s a completely laid back affair. We were about to
eat at Water Bistro Café. Its two blocks down. Would you like to join us?
Everything is on me.”

WHAT?

“Sure, I’d love to. I have to make one more home
visit, but it’s relatively close. Will you still be there in about twenty
minutes or so?”

“
Definitely
.” Jonathan smiled.

“Great.” Michael stepped forward and planted a kiss
on my lips. “I’ll see you there, Claire.”

Out the corner of my eye I saw Jonathan’s jaw clench
as Michael placed two more kisses against my cheek.

“It’s not what you think.” I looked up at him once
Michael left the room. “I swear, it’s not.”

“Oh really? What am I thinking?”

“Whatever it is, it’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Are you going to put your pretty new roses in some
water?” He looked at my flowers. “The good doctor went through a lot of trouble
to bring them so you should probably try to keep them
alive
.”

“I’ll do it when I get back...”

“Okay.” He unclenched his jaw. “Are you ready to
go?”

––––––––

J
onathan and I took the employee shuttle down to the
Water Bistro Café. Most of the employees who were on board seemed excited to
see him, and just like he’d mentioned earlier, they seemed to think it was only
a business lunch; they even joked about needing his help in their own
departments. 

Once the bus stopped, he allowed me to step off
before him, and linked my arm in his.

We didn’t stop by the hostess stand; we simply made
a left and walked upstairs, to a large private room with a view of the ocean.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Statham.” A waitress showed us
to the only table in the room—a high table with tall silver chairs that sat
next to the window. “Are there any other persons joining your party today?”

“Yes, a Dr. Clarkson.” He ushered for me to sit
down. “Could you make sure his valet parking is made complimentary when he
arrives?”

“Yes sir. Shall I wait until he arrives to take your
order?”

“That’d be fine. Could you bring us the chef’s
suggested wine while we wait?”

“Right away.” She placed three menus on the table
and disappeared.

“So,” Jonathan said as he sat down next to me, “how
are the ideas coming for the
s
Tablet?”

“Cut the crap, Jonathan. I know you’re upset about
Michael dropping by my office today. Aren’t you?”

“Why would I be upset?”

I don’t know...
“Never
mind...” I shook my head. “I just thought you were the jealous type...I apologize
for thinking that... I think the
s
Tablet is going to be even harder than
the
s
Phone.

“Why is that?”

“Because ‘
s
Tablet’ doesn’t rhyme with
anything.”

He laughed. “I’m sure you’ll come up with something
amazing.”

The waiter returned with a tray of wine glasses and
Michael was a few steps behind her.

“This is a really nice restaurant.” He sat down
across from us. “Is there a reason why the tables are so high?”

“It’s a water bistro.” The waitress smiled and
passed him a glass of wine. “All of our food is steamed and served on floating
plates of hot water. The height of the table and the grooves on the edges
prevent our guests from burning themselves.” She blushed.

“Oh...What do you suggest I try first, Mr. Statham?”

“Please, call me
Jonathan
.” He smiled and
turned his head towards the waitress. “How about giving us all a sample of
everything?”

“As you wish sir.” She collected our menus and stole
one more glance of Michael before walking away.

The three of us took short sips of our wine and sat
in complete silence before Jonathan cleared his throat. “So Michael, what
hospital do you work for?”

“None. I have my own practice downtown. It’s
relatively small though, only three doctors and five nurses.”

“What’s your specialty?”

Michael’s eyes met mine. “
Women
.”

“Interesting...” Jonathan reached over and put his
hand on my thigh. “What made you choose that?”

“Well, no disrespect to the Children’s Hospital—I
worked there for over a decade, but my true talent,” he said as his eyes met
mine again, “has always been working with the
female anatomy
.”

I picked up my wine glass and practically chugged
the whole thing. I tried to clamp my legs shut, but Jonathan had already
slipped his hand between my thighs.

He wouldn’t dare do this here...

“Hmmm...” Jonathan nodded. “This may seem like an odd
question, but do any of your patients ever ask you out?”

He laughed. “Yes, but I always turn them down. It’d
be inappropriate.”

“
Completely
inappropriate.” I felt Jonathan’s
thumb circling around my clit.

“Except in your case, Claire.” Michael beamed at me.
“If it had been you and not your mom, I’m sure I would’ve broken the rules for
you...”

“You two are
dating
?” Jonathan smiled and
looked back and forth between the two of us, teasing my opening with his middle
finger.

Before Michael could answer, a group of waitresses
brought out a series of plates. Each entrée was floating atop its own silver
bed of steaming hot water.

“I had the chef make a miniature version of every
signature item,” our waitress said as she refilled our glasses. “He wishes to
speak with you personally after your meal, Mr. Statham. I’ll return to check on
all of you rather shortly.”

I looked over a small plate of brightly skewered
vegetables and sautéed chicken. I was about to pick up my fork and taste a
piece, but Jonathan drove two fingers deep inside of me, pinning me completely
still.

“This looks amazing.” Michael picked up his spoon.
“So Jonathan, I’m sure it must be great being the CEO of your own company.
What’s the most difficult part?”

I couldn’t concentrate on the conversation–not with
Jonathan sliding his thick fingers in and out of me—slowly, teasingly—like he
was going to prolong this session forever.

“The hardest part?” He used his left hand to pick up
his fork, keeping his right hand extremely busy. “That would probably be a
product’s
development stage
.”

“Really? I would think that would be the easiest
part.”

“No, not at all.” He shook his head. “Let’s say you
have this
beautiful
and
amazing
product—something you know
everyone else will want. You have to figure out a way to keep it to yourself
throughout all stages of development before it becomes official. You know,
mark
your territory
so to speak.” His fingers were rubbing against my G-spot,
making my breaths shorter and shorter.

“So quite naturally,” he continued, “you have to be
willing to take certain public risks.”

“Isn’t your company about to go public in a few
months?” Michael asked. “Is that a risk?”

“Yes, it’s a huge risk.” Jonathan’s fingers plunged
as deep as they could go. “But, I’m all in and I can’t turn back...Once I’m in
deep, the only option is to go
deeper and deeper
. Isn’t that right,
Claire?”

Son of a bitch...

I nodded.

“Are you okay, Claire?” Michael looked concerned.
“Did your food go down the wrong way again?”

Jonathan turned to look at me. “Yes, Claire. You’re
confusing
the two of us...Do you not like the water plates?”

“I’m okay...” I murmured and attempted to pick up a
fork. “I’m just...” I felt his fingers punishing me again. “Feeling a tad bit
weak...”

Michael shrugged and took another bite of his food.

The waitress stopped by and cleared away the empty
glasses, providing us with freshly filled ones.

Before she walked away, Jonathan grabbed her by the
arm. “I’m sorry, but could you bring some more hot water for our friend here?”
He looked at me. “I think she likes her tier plate
extra wet
. Maybe that
will help you better, Claire.”

“Could I get some too?” Michael spooned butter onto
a slice of bread. “Claire, you’ve been quiet all afternoon. How’s your day
going so far?”

“It’s going...” I was on the verge of an orgasm—I
could feel my clit throbbing, my insides clenching together tightly. Since
Jonathan knew exactly what spot to hit and how to hit it, I knew I was only
seconds away from a sweet release. “It’s...”

Jonathan turned to face me and smirked. “It’s going
well
?
Is that what you’re trying to say? Do you need help spitting it out, or are you
almost there
?”

Fuck you, Jonathan...

I nodded and tucked my lips in, trying to remain as
still as possible as wave after wave of pulsing pleasure rippled through my
body.

“Claire? You sure you don’t want to get that checked
out?” Michael sipped his wine. “I know a specialist you can use.”

“No...” I caught my breath. “I’m okay and my day is
going very well...”

He suddenly stood up from the table. “This is an
emergency page from one of my nurses. I’m sorry, but I have to take this.” He
walked out of the room.

“You should try the steak strips, Claire.” Jonathan
smiled and removed his fingers. “They’re very succulent.”

He IS insane!
“I can’t believe you! You are so—I don’t even know what you are! Why would you
do that in front of him?”

“Would you prefer if I did it
behind
him?
When he comes back, we can move the table around and try it. Maybe then I won’t
have to deal with him eye-fucking you.”

“He was not! He was being extremely polite! Was that
the only reason you invited him? So you could further inflate your ego?”

“No, I did that because you
lied
to me about
the directors’ meeting a few weeks ago.” He laughed. “You didn’t think I forgot
about that did you?”

I rolled my eyes. “So you’re really not mad about
today?”

“
Mad
? About
today
? About the guy I
told you to get rid of showing up to your office with flowers because he thinks
he still has a chance? Or about this same guy kissing you
on your lips
right in front of me? Which part?”

“I told you it wasn’t—”

“Tell him you’re not interested or I will.” He
planted a kiss on my neck and stood up. “I’ll go talk to the chef and see you
back at corporate later...Oh and Claire?”

“Yes?”

“I
am
the jealous type.”

C
laire

“I am the jealous type...” “I am the
jealous type...”

I replayed Jonathan’s last words in my head over and
over, knowing that if I was sane I would walk away. No,
run
away. Far
away.

I would stop answering his calls and text messages,
ignore him in all of our meetings, and act as if we’d never crossed paths. But
I couldn’t. No matter how hard I tried to resist him, every move he made and
every word he said only drew me in deeper.

I’d finally admitted to myself that I liked him.
A
lot
. But I didn’t want to dig myself into a relationship that I knew would
never work out for the long term. So, starting this week, I did the only thing
I could do to prevent him from getting too close too soon: put a little
distance between us.

I went home early on Monday and Tuesday, skipped the
directors’ meeting on Wednesday, and on Thursday—after he asked me to meet him
in an emergency stairwell, I told him I had a headache.

There was no way I was getting out of our “first
real date” tonight though—not that I’d been thinking about canceling it anyway.
I’d been looking forward to it all week.

“See you in a few minutes.”
Jonathan texted me.

I adjusted my earrings and ran a brush through my
hair, checking myself in the mirror. I was wearing my favorite silver strappy
heels and a short emerald-green dress that perfectly complemented my eyes. Its
soft satin fabric tightly hugged my hips, its V-neckline made my breasts look a
full cup size bigger, and its slimming sleeves fell right below my elbow.

My phone sounded. Jonathan.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Claire. I’m outside your door.”

“I’m coming.” I tossed my phone into my clutch and
looked at myself in the mirror one last time before heading downstairs.

You’re just “dating” him, Claire...I know
you two agreed to be “exclusive” but it’s not serious and it never will
be....You’re just “dating”...

I opened my front door and tried not to gasp once I
laid eyes on him. To say that he was “perfect” would be an absolute
understatement—an
insult
. Everything about the way he looked tonight was
impeccable, flawless.

He was wearing a tailored black tuxedo and his sleek
dark hair was slicked back in smooth waves that I wanted to run my fingers
through. His beautiful blue eyes were twinkling against the night, regarding me
with glances that made me think he was going to rip my dress off right then and
there.

We both lingered in the doorway, staring at one
another, not saying a word.

“Are you ready?” He smiled and reached for my hand,
leading me down to a waiting limousine. He opened the back door and ushered for
me to step inside first.

“We’re ready, Greg.” He hit the button that divided
the driver’s section from our section and looked over at me. “Do you honestly
expect me to believe that no one at corporate ever asked you out on a date
before I did?”

“It’s true...People flirted with me every now and then,
but I think the ‘divorcée with two kids’ rumor warded a lot of people off. It’s
not like I was the most approachable person either...I wasn’t trying to date
anyone.”

“Hmmm...”

“Where are we going?”

“On a date.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m aware that it’s
a date
.
I’m just wondering why I needed to wear a dress and why you’re wearing a
tuxedo.”

“You’ll find out.” He moved closer and pressed his
lips against mine. “I didn’t see you after work yesterday...”

“I had a headache, remember? I decided to leave
early.”

“Are you feeling better now?” He started trailing
tender kisses against the base of my neck.

“Yes...” I suppressed a moan. “Much better...”

“Will Doctor Clarkson be joining us on our date
tonight? Did you tell him you were sick again or did you tell him the
truth
?”

“I told him I was seeing an extremely jealous and
possessive man who would keep fingering me in public if I didn’t break things
off with him immediately.”

“Sounds great.” He pulled me into his lap.

“You’re ridiculous...I told him I was seeing someone
else and gave him Sandra’s number. They’re going out this weekend.”

“Even better.” He pushed the speaker button on the
door. “Greg, could you take the scenic route please?”

“Yes sir.”

“I haven’t seen you at all this week...” He ran his
hands across my thighs. “My days have been completely thrown off.”

“Flattery doesn’t work well with your persona,
Jonathan. I prefer your inappropriate comments and your not-so-subtle threats.”

“You haven’t missed me?”

“No. Should I?”

He sighed and repositioned me in his lap. “You’re
going to stop lying to me one of these days.”

“Jonathan...” I felt him slowly hiking my dress up and
tried to move. “Your driver is in here!”

“What’s your point?” He touched between my thighs
and reached for my panties but I wasn’t wearing any.

“I don’t want to have sex while he’s—”

“You
clearly
wanted to have sex at some point
tonight.” He pinched my clit.

“No, I clearly didn’t want a visible panty line. I’m
not...” I tried my best to act unaffected by the warm kisses he was placing on my
neck, on my shoulders, on my back. “I’m not...I’m not having sex with you right
now.”

He let out a low sexy laugh and began unbuckling his
pants, un-wrapping a condom.

“I’m serious Jonathan,” I murmured unconvincingly as
he slid my dress up even further. “I don’t...I don’t want to have sex in a limo.”

“Then you should’ve worn a different dress.” He
pushed me up and out of his lap and before I could lunge towards the side
seats, he pulled me back down by my shoulders.

He slowly lowered me onto him—my back was facing his
chest, and I tried my best not to cry out, but it was no use. I screamed as he
filled me with every inch of him, as he flexed his hips and moved me up and
down.

Jesus...

“Jonathan—”

“Yes?” He kneaded my breasts with his hands.

“I...”

“You want me to stop? You want me to let you go?”

No...

He pinched my nipples. Hard. “I can’t hear you.” 

“I said...I said no...”

“Ride me.” He let my sides go and leaned back,
letting me take full control.

I gripped his knees and arched my back, using my
balance to swivel around in circles. I started off slow, but I wanted more of
him—
needed
more of him, so I thrust myself onto him harder and harder,
riding him with wild abandon.

He reached around and rubbed my swollen clit with
his fingers, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.

“Oh godddd, Jonathannnn...”

“You feel so good, Claire.” He groaned. “So
good...Tell me when you’re almost there...”

He locked me in his arms and slowed my pace down,
pressing his head against the back of my shoulder.

“Are you close?”

“
Yes
...” I moaned. “I...I—” My body was
quivering, shuddering—getting ready to explode, but before I could let go,
Jonathan pushed me off of him.

He turned me around and positioned me across the
seat’s bench, straddling me—not re-entering me.

“Do you think I don’t know what you’ve been doing?”
He hissed.

What the!
“What? What the hell are you talking about?” I thrust my hips up to meet him,
but he pinned them down.

“Going home early? Skipping directors’ meetings?
Sudden
headaches
? You think I haven’t noticed?”

“I...” I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to reach my
orgasm
right now
and him denying me one was beginning to hurt. “Can you
please—”

“You think I’m going to put up with that shit?”

“Jonathan, I—”

“I don’t like mixed signals and I don’t half-ass
anything, Claire—especially things like
this
. Do you understand me?”

I felt my eyes widening, felt a mix of shock and
frustration ripping through me.

“Yes...” I panted. “Now, please—”

“Please
what
?”

I could barely speak. My clit was pulsating in
pleasurable pain; my body was in desperate need of a release.

“You don’t like the way this feels? Being denied
something just because someone wants to take a step back all of a sudden? For
no good reason?”

“
No...
” I murmured.

“I don’t either.” He kept my hips pinned to the seat
and began kissing the inside of my thighs, driving my need to cum even more.
“Let’s see what happens when it’s completely held back though. Let’s see how
the aftermath
really
feels.”

Damn him!
“I’m sorry for doing all those things, Jonathan. I wasn’t trying to send you
mixed signals. Now, please...” I was practically begging, writhing underneath
him.

He slid his tongue up past my navel, in between my
breasts. “You’ll stop playing games with me?”

I nodded my head.

“
Say it
.”

“I’ll stop...”

His eyes softened as he looked at me, as he
contemplated what I’d said. He slid into me and thrusted in and out—slowly,
gently, and within minutes I was shutting my eyes and screaming, reveling in a
much needed climax.

“Fuck...” Jonathan collapsed on top of me seconds
later.

We were both panting heavily, in sync with one
another, and before I could catch another breath, I felt him kissing my lips
and pulling my dress down.

I didn’t want to open my eyes yet. I didn’t want to
look at him or see his ‘I’ve got you right where I want you’ face. I simply
spread my legs and felt what I already knew was coming: the soft swipes of a
cloth, the gentle kisses against my forehead and neck.

“Claire?” His sultry voice almost made me wet all
over again.

My eyes fluttered open and I realized he was staring
at me. I wanted to look away from him, to pretend that I was mad for that
ridiculous orgasm denial, but all I could do was stare back.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He pulled me up and
put his arm around me, holding me against his chest.

We quickly slipped into silence, into that
‘I’m-perfectly-comfortable-with-you-silence’ that I’d only ever enjoyed with
him.

I looked out the window and saw that we were still
in the city; I figured that Jonathan saying “scenic route” must have meant
drive around in circles because my house was a mere ten minutes away and we’d
been in the car for much longer.

I started wondering about where we were
going—tonight
and
long term. I didn’t want to think about it, but I couldn’t
help it since he’d seen through my distancing attempt: What if this turned into
an actual relationship? What if we did last a long time and he wanted kids in
the future? Should I introduce him to Ashley and Caroline? Were we at that
point yet? Did I really like him that much or was my “like” clouded by his good
looks and the mind blowing sex? Was this something we were both doing to—

“Stop that.” Jonathan tilted my head up and kissed
me.

“Stop what?”

“
Thinking
—about this, about us.” He tucked a
strand of hair behind my ear. “Stop it.”

“Mr. Statham?” The driver’s voice came over the
speaker.

“Yes, Greg?”

“We’ve arrived sir.”

“We’ll be right out.” Jonathan kissed me again and
waited for the driver to open the door.  He stepped out of the car and reached
for my hand. “Does this place look familiar?”

“Yeah, it’s the Golden Gate Br—” I stopped and
looked around. There were no cars coming or going in any of the six lanes, no
tourists camped out on the railings, no pedestrians taking a late night stroll.

In the distance I could see a single table covered
in a white tablecloth and hundreds of giant red candles surrounding it.

“You had the entire bridge blocked off?” I gasped.
“I—”

“I did.” He squeezed my hand and walked me towards
the table. “You mentioned liking the architecture of this bridge before. I
thought you would appreciate it a lot better if you had it to yourself for a
while.”

He remembered that?
“I
thought we agreed on no public—”

“I took care of everything.”

My mind was spinning. For one, I didn’t think he’d
really been listening when I was talking about my love for the structure of
bridges—I’d said that the first time we spoke on the phone. And two, I was
remembering how it cost my team fifty thousand dollars to reserve a small
photo-esque landing on the bridge for the
s
Phone blue commercial. I
couldn’t fathom how much it cost to completely re-route traffic and shut down
the entire bridge.

I looked up and expected to see news helicopters
humming about, trying to zoom in on who or what had shut down the largest
bridge on the West Coast, but there weren’t any. It was eerily calm and the
only noise was coming from the sloshing waters below.

He pulled my chair out and motioned for me to take a
seat. He planted a kiss on my forehead before sitting down across from me.

“Good evening, Mr. Statham, Miss Gracen.” A waiter
in a white suit appeared. “What type of wine would you prefer tonight?”

“I’ll have whatever she’s having.” Jonathan looked
at me as if he were waiting for me to choose.

“Do you have DeLille Chaleur Estate Blanc? 2010?” I
asked.

“Yes. Excellent choice, Miss.” The waiter walked
away and quickly returned with two crystal wine glasses. He filled them and
handed us a menu. “This is the menu for the Michael Mina restaurant, Miss. The
chef has substituted all the seafood items with his signature French and
Italian dishes. I’ll return shortly to get your order.”