“Uuuhh, Scott,” Her head whirled with conflicting emotions: she needed to be touched, needed to be stroked, and needed to be fucked, but why did it have to be here, like this, where the driver might see? “Yes,” she shook slightly, nervous and incredibly aroused, all at the same time.


He pushed his fingers deeper, his thumb lazily strummed her clit, and she shuddered deliciously, trying to muster some level of control—it’s a feeble gesture at best. She aware she could stop him if you really wanted too. He wasn’t holding her down, he wasn’t forcing her. Yes, she could end this public exhibition but it felt so damn good she didn’t want it to stop. Something about it excited her; more intensely, the idea of being watched—of being discovered, her thighs opened, her dress up around her waist, her panties soaked, his fingers fucking her slowly, teasingly, deeply. Her back arched and pushed down onto his fingers.


“That’s it, cum.” He leaned down and kissed her, stifling her cries. His fingers lapped at her g-spot as he thumbed her clit. Wetness, pure wetness covered his hand as she came. He continued kissing her until she regained her senses. In time, he pecked her lips and smiled down at her. “Hey, pretty girl. Did I mention how positively gorgeous you look tonight?”


Monica smiled timidly. “Thanks”



                                                         *****



“He’s creepy as hell, but he’s the kind of creeper you want climbing through your bedroom window late at night. So what if when he smiles it almost looks as though he wants to molest you. For some unknown reason, I’m not afraid, in fact I want it!” Sharon rambled on about her date while Monica sat behind her desk, half distracted.


“Um, huh,”


“Monica, are you listening?” Her tone was accusatory, not at all sympathetic to Monica’s lack of sleep.


“Yes, I hear you…just no more, please,” she tossed Sharon her copy of the Fitzpatrick’s portfolio containing everything from the floor plan to the guest list. This event had to be perfect, which meant Monica would oversee the project herself. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Sharon’s judgment, rather the time constraints left only a small margin of error. “We’re going with various shades of white on everything. From ceiling to floor, everything will be covered in white. The only punch of color will be the greenery. I didn’t like the idea at first but once Emanuel created the table setting, I was sold. We’re going to cover every square inch of the hall in white flowers and defused lighting. Once KC sees her commission, she’ll be kissing my ass for months.” She smirked. “I’m not sending the jobs out for bidding, I know the vendors we’ll be using.”


Sharon looked up in wide-eyed disbelief. “You have to send out Mrs. Fitzpatrick’s dress. Every designer in Atlanta is awaiting the commission.”

“Shit, you’re right.” Monica tapped her pen on her forehead. She scribbled a note to herself. “I’m sure the word has hit the streets.”


“You’d better believe it.” Sharon closed her portfolio and stood. “Last night after the contract was signed and faxed, my phone began ringing. I didn’t bother answering.”


“Damn,” she sucked her teeth and sighed. “Where are you headed?”


“Cody’s, I have an appointment. And by the looks of it, you should be coming with me.” Sharon laughed pointing out the haphazard ponytail Monica was sporting. “Scott is wearing your ass out! When was the last time you saw him?”


Monica started to lie to cover up her freakiness, but found she didn’t have the amount of energy needed to keep it up. “Last night.”


Sharon stood with her portfolio clutched to her chest, shaking her head. Was she approving or not? Her vacant expression made it difficult to tell. “Let’s go. Cody, will squeeze you in once he sees the mess you’ve created.”



Scott lumbered towards the bathroom, feeling slightly better but still achy. It was day one of his five day duty-free stretch. The benefit being a fireman: twenty days off a month. He’d decided to return to school for him masters in crime justice, and provided he wasn’t burned to a char in the interim, he was leaving the station for law school. It had taken him a while to make the decision and yes, he was entering the profession later than most but if a ninety-one year old woman could do it then so could he, and he told Monica as much.


He’d fooled himself into believing she’d care. She didn’t. Then again, he had chosen the worse opportunity to spring the news on her. Note to self: Going down on Monica isn’t a time for talk, it was a time for action! After the room stopped spinning and they lay cuddling, she gave him the affection he so desired. She was proud of him.


She was proud of him, genuinely proud. Scott wasn’t like any other man she’d dated. He was neither overly arrogant nor overbearing. He gave her space to handle her business whilst remaining supportive. He wasn’t a pushover nor was he a bully. She knew and respected him limits as he did hers. The only exception to this was her incessant dragging him to gatherings. He loathed the gawking women….and Cody. But it was the price to pay for dating her.


Dating her? Were they really dating? They certainly were doing something. There was no formal announcement, although, was there a need? From appearances they were a couple…if he dared look at another woman, Monica would hand him his balls and he definitely didn’t want her seeing other men.


The phone rang just as he stepped into the shower. It was Monica laying out their dinner plans.


“We’re meeting Sharon and Creepy Guy at 7:30 at Café Intermezzo’s on Brookwood. Its casual night so find a nice button down, a sports coat and…um, wing it on the pants but no jeans unless they’re a dark wash. Should I send a car?”


Was she asking or telling? It came across as both. “Sure, I’ll be ready.”


“Great! Love you.” She hung up.


“WHAT!?” he said aloud, none too ashamed he’d done so. Had it been said in the industry use like “I’ll call you”? Maybe it was a knee-jerk reaction. “Love” wasn’t a word he throw around easily, not since Courtney. Courtney had almost broken him and there was no way he was subjecting himself to another hollow relationship. If Monica said ‘love’, she’d better have meant it.


Café Intermezzo’s was the European coffeehouse, the hottest and most expensive cafe in the city, and Monica’s favorite. Not only did she have a standing reservation, she had a table which sat eight—which in and of itself was impressive given the cafes’ narrow and cavernous layout. Rarely was the table occupied by more than four, which only served to show that if you were seated there, you deserved to be seated there. Of course, it was all comp. She and the owners were old friends and her presence and weighty clientele list brought them business.


Scott’s Town Car pulled to the curb and he let himself out before the driver came to a complete stop. Inside, he kissed Monica and greeted Sharon and Creepy Guy. Creepy Guy was indeed creepy. His name was Carlos, a swarthy looking fellow Sharon met in the checkout line at Publix. Scott shook his hand and immediately wished he hadn’t and judging by the woeful look on Monica’s face, she’d had the same reaction.


This guy wasn’t going to make it through dinner. Mistake number one came before the salads. He ordered the poached pear and bleu cheese salad. Everyone knew Monica’s delicate gag reflex was triggered by the mere mention of bleu cheese. He ordered it anyway and Scott had it retuned to the kitchen at once.


“Try again,” Scott said looking him directly in the eyes—all too threatening—all too hot.


The night was downhill from thereon. In the end, Sharon kicked Creepy Guy out and they kicked back and talked politics over scones and coffee.




It was after 1:00am when Scott and Monica returned to Scott’s place and after 3:00 before Scott let Monica up for air.


“Ride me,” he ordered.


“What, already? I just gave you the best head of your life!”


He took hold of her waist and in the most undignified manner, deposited her on his cock.


“Oh damn!” She barely had time to catch her balance before her wetness was pouring down his length. “Oh God,” Her head spun wildly as he penetrated deeper, filling her urgently. She loved being manhandled by him.


He reached under her arms, grasp her head in his strong hands and pulls her down within an inch of his face. “You like that don’t you?” his hissed as she leaned over him, her breasts slapping against his chest while his hard, thrusting, pounding thickness lie waste to her pussy. He seized her and she whimpered—her juicy lips sucked his cock with each thrust. “You’re cumming all over me. I’m gonna make you lick off.”


“Fuck!” she screamed, he pounded harder, insistently, filled her to the hilt and demanded more. “Ooohh, God, Scott!” she engulfed him as she came, His cock pulsating so damn hard she felt it swell.


He brought her lips to his and kissed her so passionately, so all-consuming, they came together. They embraced in a way they hadn’t before, calmly coming back to earth, their bodies clung to one another. She lie still in his arms, her face pressed into his chest.


“Monica,”


“Yes,” she mumbled.


“Please don’t say you love me if you don’t mean it.”