She (8 page)

love
to stay, Funny Valentine,” he says, “but I have a flight to catch in the morning at five AM, which means I would have to leave here at two.” Oh, yes…his business trip! I’d forgotten all about it! “The reason I don’t want to stay is because I don’t want us to sleep together, only for you to wake up alone...”
I stare up at him adoringly — that may be the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me! “That’s very thoughtful,” I smile at him. I reach up on my tiptoes to kiss him once more. It quickly builds to something brimming with carnal desire.
“Damn my thoughtfulness,” he grins, his mouth against mine, his breathing heavy. “It’s not easy to walk away from you, Gemima,” he tells me, and I melt in his arms.
“Where are you going?” I ask, and though I’m sure he’s told me once before, I can’t remember it right now. I can’t remember anything! I feel so heady.
“Japan,” he says. “Back late Monday night.”
“So, we can pick this up on Tuesday night?” I ask.
He nods, and grins, evidently looking forward to it. “And maybe you should take Wednesday off work,” he whispers into my ear. I groan and almost convulse again. I can feel him smiling. “Maybe Thursday, too.”
“You’re going to set me off again,” I warn him. “Think of me while you’re away,” I tell him.
He smiles his dazzling smile; the dimples in his cheeks looking delectable. “I will think of you as you are right now…your shallow and rapid breath…your sweet, intoxicating scent…your devil red lips…,” he kisses them quickly, “…the soft skin over your cheek…your tongue against mine…the way you arch your back against me...” I do so and he smiles broader, continuing, “…the curves in your neck…your legs wrapped around me…the way you feel inside,” he sighs defeatedly. He rests his forehead against mine, his eyes pouring into me through the darkness. “Suddenly I don’t think I’m going to get a lot of work done.”
“Oh, Logan,” I sigh as well. “What an unexpected evening!” I say, with such surprise in my voice that we both laugh.
*
We decide to wait up together until two o’clock when Logan has to leave for the airport. He openly admits that he’d prefer to wait outside, because if he comes within the confines of my home, he doesn’t think he will be able to resist me. I’m tickled by his words.
“Best I wait outside,” he says.
I nip inside quickly to get some food and drinks and a blanket and then rejoin him on the porch. For the next hour and a bit we eat and drink, make out and talk, and then make out some more. Fifteen minutes before he has to leave, I climb onto Logan’s lap, straddling him, and wrap the blanket around us. While fervently kissing him, I bravely reach my hand down, passed the drawstring of his sweatpants, into the depths within. I fleetingly recall two days ago when Logan let me ogle him and I tried desperately to discover what was hidden in his pants. No more guessing now! As I gently take hold of him, he hardens to my touch, growing and stiffening. He’s long and wide and smooth. Logan lets me rub my hand up and down his sizeable shaft, receiving my touch gratefully. Our tongues brush against one another, and soon his arms wrap tightly around my back, holding me close to him. So close. His erection is pressed between his stomach and mine. It would be
so
easy to lift myself up and slide onto him. I want to, and at the same time I don’t. Logan wants to spend the whole night with me, and though carnal longing courses through me, I have to admit to myself that I want the same.
Logan’s breath hitches as I bring him closer to his release. He groans that beautiful, guttural sound, and it sends a jolt of pleasure around my body.
I
am doing this to him.
Me
! He’s surrendering to my touch, my caress, and it makes
me
feel so good to make him feel so good.
How very selfish
, I smile to myself. Is this what it felt like for him when I came, I wonder.
With a loud cry, Logan explodes in my hand. He tilts his head back, breathing rapidly, and I take the opportunity to kiss his throat.
“And this is how I will remember you,” I smile against his skin.
Unexpectedly he takes my face in his hands and kisses me hungrily.
“If there was anyway I could get out of this business trip, please know that I would do it,” he says seriously.
“Absence makes the heart grow fonder, Logan,” I smile at him.
He looks at me, his eyes soft, loving and oh, so sexy. “It’s not possible to be any fonder of you than I am right now,” he whispers.
*
Logan leaves, as he must, with a kiss and promise to continue our night of passion on Tuesday evening. As I watch him walk away from my house, my mind begins reeling with all that’s happened tonight. I went out to a Lonely Hearts Party, and ended up with Logan! Orgasmic Logan! I turn and enter my house, not feeling the least bit tired, despite the late hour. I need to cool off, I tell myself. I need a shower.

3. Searchlight

In the morning I am woken early, too early, by the sound of my ringing mobile phone. Sleepily I slap my hand onto my bedside table to find it.
“Hello?”
“Hey, where are you?”
It’s Amber.
Fuck
! I’m supposed to be meeting her for breakfast. But surely it’s not time for that yet?
“What time is it?” I mumble.
“Eight forty-five,” she says, her voice amused. Dammit, I’m fifteen minutes late!
“Shit, sorry, Amber! I’ve overslept. I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” I say, sitting up too quickly. My head spins and I slump back down onto my pillow. “I’m going to have to walk, I left my car at mom’s salon. Can you order something for me? I don’t mind what, so long as it’s waffles and syrup.”
She laughs, and I’m reminded of another reason why I love Amber: she’s never angry!
“I hope your American man-friend has something to do with this tardiness…”
“As it happens,” I say, smiling into my pillow.
*
I find Amber and Seamus sitting outside of our favourite breakfast spot. They’re holding hands and looking their usual smitten selves. Even after two years of marriage they still look at each other like they’re newlyweds.

I apologise profusely for being late, but neither of them want to hear that, they want to know all about my night with Logan.
“Where to begin?” I grin at them. Then I start eating my breakfast, purposefully taking my time, whilst watching them get more and more wound up.
Finally, Amber pulls my plate out from under me, “No more ’til you spill the beans, Missy!”
Seamus and I laugh.
“What do you want to know?” I ask.
She looks at me like: Duh! “Everything!” she says exasperatedly.
“
Everything
?” I check.
“Oh. My. God! You had sex!” she says loudly and accusatorially, causing the patrons at several nearby tables to turn and look at me, too.
“No,” I tell her quickly. “We kissed. A lot.”
“And?” Seamus asks, as bad as his wife.
“And…there was some…hand action,” I finally confess.
They both grin at me and I laugh.
“Did he make you come?” Amber asks forwardly.
“Amber!” Seamus says, reprovingly.
“What? Gem asked me the same questions when you and I started dating,” she tells him.
Seamus shakes his head, as if to say:
girls
!
“As it happens,” I say again. Of course, I can’t help adding, “Twice.”

“And you like him, right?” Seamus asks.

“Yes. I
really
do,” I say, blushing slightly.

Amber beams at me. “How did this happen?” she blurts out. “He found out you were single, and called you, or what? Did he offer an explanation?”

“He certainly did,” I smile. “Logan says, for him, it started two years ago at the AABD winter party. He saw me, he liked me, and he’s been biding his time since…
He only just found out that Jerry and I split up, and that‘s when he called. And he confessed this all to me at lunch on Wednesday. It was very cool,” I reminisce. It was
very
sexy!

“Wow,” Seamus breaks the silence. “That’s, uh…” he looks at his wife.

“That’s adorable!” Amber squeaks.
“But, he couldn’t have known that you and Jerry would
ever
break up,” she muses.

Hmm… “No, I guess not,” I agree.

“Was he just going to wait? Forever?” she asks.

“I, uh...I don’t know,” I answer honestly.

“Wow,” Seamus says again.

“He must like you,” Amber smiles.

“He must
really
like you,” Seamus gives his male perspective, and I’m thrilled to hear it.

I smile at both of them, feeling both happy and shy about sharing.

“Logan used to work with Jerry a lot, but when he found out he cheated on me, he fired him!” I reveal, grinning. “He said he only kept working with him in the hope of seeing me...”

Amber’s eyes widen. “He said that? He’s the biggest construction magnate in Paris, who can pick and choose the best people to work with, and he said
that
?”

I nod.

“He’s an all-the-cards-on-the-table kind of guy, then?” Seamus correctly assumes.

I nod again.

“Well,” Amber splutters, looking at her husband. “I think it’s clear what you’ve got to do now.”

“Uh, what?”

“Marry him!”

Seamus and I laugh, but abruptly I’m ready to change the subject. I don’t want to get ahead of things!

“Did you get the email I forwarded to you from Jerry?” I ask Amber.

The change of subject works brilliantly. “Oh my god…what a dick!” she shouts, and spirals into a long rant about how distasteful my ex is.

I agree with her on all accounts, again feeling that stab of annoyance at myself for staying with him as long as I did. I remember that Amber used to question me frequently about mine and Jerry’s relationship, and I’d always mutter an elusive, inconclusive reply. But now, I smile to myself, she can ask me about Logan, and I will answer, conclusively, that I am happy.
*
After breakfast the three of us make our way to the local aquatic centre. The heated indoor pool and spas are a welcomed warmth on this brisk morning. We lounge in the water, lazily floating and occasionally splashing one another, much to the annoyance of those swimmers who actually want to do laps. After an hour, when we’re all sufficiently prune-y, we get out and hit the showers. It’s the first time I’ve been in a shower in the last few days and
not
felt myself up, I acknowledge, laughing at myself. Then my married friends depart, offering to give me a lift back to my car, which I turn down. Amber hugs me tightly, and makes me pinky swear that I’ll call her on Wednesday and tell her all about my first night with Logan. Amused by our juvenile antics, Seamus makes me pinky swear never to do a pinky swear again. I wave them off, then wrap my coat firmly around me, and set out on my walk.
I walk through the streets of Paris until I reach the banks of the River Seine, my wanted destination. All to infrequently do I have the time to walk here, even though it’s my favourite thing to do in Paris. The path along the river is adorned with green trees, even in winter, and someway in the distance I can see the tops of Notre Dame, which I pronounce the French way, not the American college way. After ten minutes of walking, I stop at a small bank-front cafe for an early lunch. Whilst rummaging around my bag for my purse, I realise that I’ve left my phone at home. It must still be on my bedside table, where I put it after Amber called me this morning. I want to send Logan a photographic message of the beautiful scenery in front of me, but no luck there, I think. After my relaxed, time-consuming lunch, during which I revel in watching the people of Paris pass me by, I continue on my walk and just before I reach Notre Dame, I turn off of my riverside path. Au revoir, until next time. I head in a circular loop back towards my mom’s salon to pick up my car. By the time I reach it I’ve walked for over two hours, and feel thoroughly refreshed by the cool winter air.
On my way home I do my weekly food shop, and when I get home I clean it, so it’s well past six in the evening before I finally sit down. I’m only down for two minutes before realising that Logan will have landed in Japan by now. I run, silly Gemima, to my bedroom to retrieve my phone, and delight in seeing that he’s already sent me a text.
*Arrived safe and sound. This is why I had to come. It’s my newest venture.* The text is accompanied by a photograph of the front of a large, lit-up hotel, and above the huge sliding entrance doors reads: Hotel 49.
Suddenly I remember Logan speaking on the phone with his PA, telling her that he finally had a name for his Tokyo hotel. I make a mental note to enquiry. Why forty-nine?
Another text pings through.
*It’s late here. Bedtime. It’s my first time sleeping in one of my own hotels. Next time I might have to bring you with me. Night x*
A trip to Tokyo? Oh, Logan, I won’t take much persuading!
*
On Sunday I go shopping, physically and virtually. I frequent one of my favourite American online stores, purchasing several new dresses, tops, skirts and pants, and upgrading the postage to express so that it’ll get here within a week. I barely skim the price at the checkout, telling myself,
sometimes it’s better not to know
. Then I hit the high street, in the market for lingerie and sleepwear. Sexy sleepwear. I spend a small fortune, but I’m so thrilled with what I’ve found that I simply don’t care. My high-paying new job will take care of any excess.
Speaking of, I return to work on Monday morning, only to find Layla at reception in a flood of tears. She looks up, registers me, and then runs into the nearby bathroom, sobbing. I stand motionless for a moment, wondering what the hell is going on, and then I decide to follow her.
“Layla, is something wrong?” I ask the obvious question.
She emerges from her cubicle, her mascara streaming down her cheeks. “I’ve fallen in love,” she cries.
I stare at her, nonplussed. “OK,” I say. “Um…isn’t that a good thing?”
“Non,” she wails. “Non, non,
non
!”
“Hang on…is this your blind-date from Friday night?”
“Oui…I love him!” she tells me.
“Wow. Uh, isn’t that a bit fast to—” I hold my tongue. A tad hypocritical, don’t you think, Gem, I ask myself. I change tac. “Why are you crying, then?”
“We had a most passionate night...and we parted at dawn on Saturday morning...he said he’d call me, but he hasn’t!” she just manages to say before a fresh wave of tears arrives.
The door behind me opens and Amelie Clemence walks in. “To work, Miss. Samuels,” she says. “I will deal with this,” she says of Layla’s outburst.
“Feel better,” I tell Layla.
As I turn to leave, Clemence says to me, “Perhaps next time you could tell Mr. Leary not to be quite so grandiose. I’m a fan of extravagance, as you know, but,
really
!”
My eyes widen. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I tell her honestly.
“Well, you will in about two minutes,” she says, and then nods her head towards the door, telling me to leave.
Two minutes later when I reach my desk, I understand her words. I beam at the
huge
bouquet of flowers that take up most of my desk. A plethora of colours pour out from the opulent vase, and at the base lies a card in an envelope. I half expect to find it opened, I wouldn’t put it passed Amelie Clemence, but it’s not. Excitedly I open it. The card reads:
You & Me, babe — how about it
?
I smile fondly at the words from my one of my favourite songs, Dire Straights,
Romeo and Juliet
, and one of my favourite things that I divulged to Logan on Friday night. I settle at my desk, having to navigate around the new addition; if they were anything else I’d find them cumbersome and in-the-way, but not these. These are beautiful! Even from the other side of the world, Logan manages to show me he cares! I can just see the smile that my reaction would garner from him and it makes my heart race. Those sexy and adorable dimples…Jeez, he’s a beautiful man! I can’t wait to see him again! Under my desk I write a quick message.
*Thank you for the flowers! And in answer to your card — you and me? Abso-fucking-lutely! See you tomorrow. x*
*P.S. Clemence called you grandiose! That’s quite something coming from her! Ha! x*
I get barely any work done before Logan’s responding text pings through. I love how responsive he is!
*Abso-fucking-lutely? Oh, I’ve missed your American-mouth. You’re welcome re flowers. A beautiful woman deserves beautiful gifts. Your P.S. made me laugh out loud! I’ll be out of reach for a while, but I’ll see you soon, Gemima. x*
*Have a lovely day, Logan. I’m looking forward to seeing you when you’re back. x*
I hit send and then frown. I’ve mentioned tomorrow twice…isn’t that putting a bit too much light on the subject? I worry for a few moments… I don’t want to come across as desperate to get laid! Then I shake my head. Don’t think on it, I tell myself, and I get to work on a myriad of tasks that need doing. The day passes quickly, without anymore contact from Logan, and all-too-soon it’s five o’clock…and just like that I’m one day closer to having sex with Logan! I almost regret having a time and date on it; it gives my nerves time to build uncomfortably, and my mind time to riot, running through all the possibilities and what-ifs. Spontaneity is much sexier, I think. No time to think then, just time to act and be, in the moment, in the mood. But there’s nothing to be done about it, Logan and I have made our plans for tomorrow night...and nerve-inducing though it may be, I’m thrilled by the prospect! Shivers run through me at the memory of his hands on me, and his fingers in me. I feel heat rush to my face as I recall moaning his name amid the sweet ecstasy of my release. A smile lingers on my face...I’m
really
looking forward to tomorrow!
After dinner I call my mom, and in the middle of our varying conversations I mention Logan. I’m coy, I don’t tell her much, only that I met someone and that we have a date planned for tomorrow night, and then I change the subject and she doesn’t press for more information. After our call I watch some senseless television, mostly as a way of keeping my mind occupied and unable to worry me, and at nine o’clock I have a shower and slip into one of my new nighties, testing it out. It’s a beautiful, crisp white cotton and lace number that shapes my figure and holds my breasts firmly. I study myself in the mirror, enjoying the pushup effect that the lace over my bosoms provides. It feels soft and sensual on my skin, and what’s more I feel sensual wearing it.
Not nearly tired yet I pour myself a generous glass of red wine. This will help, I tell myself slyly. Then I flick the television back on, onto my favourite music channel, The Chillout Lounge. I take a sip of wine, savouring the rich flavour in my mouth. In the bedroom I hear my phone ring. I dash through to answer it before it goes to the message bank. I look down at the caller ID, and smile.
“Logan, hi,” I say.
“I’m outside,” he tells me.
“You’re…outside?” I ask, bemused. I quickly walk back through my house to the front door, unlock it, and pull it open.
And here he is! Standing on my porch, looking utterly, heart-achingly beautiful.
“You’re so gorgeous,” I say into my phone. He laughs, and those dimples I’ve been daydreaming about appear and make my knees buckle.
“You look heavenly,” he says, stealing a quick glance down my body, and I’m instantly thrilled by my choice of nightwear.
“You’re—you’re back early.”
“I took an earlier flight,” he explains. Then he glances around the porch, and grins at me as he says, “I have fond memories of this porch.”
I smile back at him as I remember trembling in his arms, and how so,
so
good that felt.
Similar thoughts are playing on Logan’s mind. “Gemima, can I come in?” Logan asks, and we both know he’s asking about more than just my home.
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” I grin, and half a second later I’m in his arms.
He steps quickly through the door, slamming it shut behind him, dropping his large travel bag, and taking a hold of my face, his mouth crushing against mine. He forces my mouth open with his tongue and claims me; it’s all I can do to keep up. His sweet taste intoxicates me, seducing me. I close my eyes and surrender. His hands move down my body wrapping around my back and holding me closely, tenderly. He’s as much in need of this as I am, I celebrate, kissing him fervently. I reach up and slide my hands under his jacket and push it off of his shoulders and pull it down his arms. We break apart momentarily as he pulls his jacket off the rest of the way and lets it drop to the ground.
“You taste like wine,” he says, his mouth still close to mine.
“Yes,” I say, biting my lip.
“Wine…on a weeknight?” he teases, his hands moving back to my waist. I relish his touch. Delicate but firm, sweet but sexy, respectful but longing for more as well.
“To help me sleep,” I say breathlessly.
He kisses me gently, deeply, and I melt in his arms, allowing him to hold me.
“I’m not here to help you sleep,” he grins, his hands moving downward and cupping my backside.
I wrap my arms around his neck, pushing his head against mine. Our passion builds, stronger and stronger. All I can think is how much I want him. Here. Now. Make love to me, Logan, I plead. See, I tell myself: spontaneity.
So
. Much. Sexier! I pull him into the living room.
“I’d show you around, but as you built the place…”
He laughs, the sound driving me wild with desire. Something is building in my groin. Even though his hands are nowhere near my sex, I feel everything he does, there. Together we fall onto the sofa, me on bottom, him on top. I open my legs and he flattens me, pressing his hips firmly against mine. I groan at the exquisite force he applies. He’s growing hard, and pushing against me in just the right spot. I reach around his back and thrust my hand down the back of his pants, grabbing his backside and squeezing hard. He makes that sexy, low moan in his throat, egging me on. His mouth is against mine, our tongues caressing each other. We move against one another, writhing, pushing each other closer and closer. I moan into his mouth and he smiles. He moves his lips from mine, to my cheek, down my neck, down my chest, onto my breasts. He yanks the lace to the side, freeing them, and then smiles against my skin in appreciation. He sucks my nipples one at a time, then bites and gently pulls. Ah! It feels
so
good!
And then, before I know what’s happening, Logan stands, lifts me off of the sofa and lies me on the large ottoman in the middle of the room. He leans over me and continues kissing my breasts, then slowly kisses his way down…down… He sinks to his knees at the end of the ottoman, and presses his nose into the apex of my thighs through my nightie and my underwear, and breathes me in.
“Mmm,” he breathes, enjoying himself. He reaches his hands up under my nightie and peels my underwear down my legs. He flings it around his finger and lets it fly off, landing somewhere on the floor, as I laugh at the show. He grins, his eyes flash mischievously, and a shiver of anticipation runs through me. I am tense, expectant, and breathing hard. “Relax,” he says, and then he goes down on me.
He lifts my nightie up and ducks his head under it so I can only see him moving beneath the fabric. He kisses my thighs, teasing me, each kiss bringing him closer to my sex. I want to move and squirm, but with a little, delectable laugh, Logan holds my legs still, allowing the pressure to build even more. I am quivering…already…so soon! How does he do this to me? He runs his tongue all the way over my sex up to my clitoris where he focusses his attention. It’s like he’s making out with me, down there! He uses his lips to suck at me, and his tongue to swirl around me, pushing me higher and higher. I moan his name. Forcefully, he claims me with his mouth, and I fall part entirely. I come, loudly, as my orgasm ricochets through my body, my tension exploding. Then my whole body relaxes and Logan reappears, straddling me on top of the ottoman.
He gazes down at me, his eyes shining. He licks his lips which are glistening from my moisture and I feel like I might convulse again. Smirking to himself, I can tell he sees the affect he’s having on me, and I don’t try to hide it. I smile at him, grab the front of his shirt and pull him down until our faces and mouths meet. I kiss him hard, feeling him smile, his chest flattening mine. I can taste myself on his tongue, something I’ve never tasted before, and I’m surprised that my reaction is one of heightened arousal rather than disgust. It’s Logan, I tell myself,