White Male Page 8
“Come through.”
I got up and walked towards his office feeling self-conscious about who might be watching me. The few people who’d arrived didn't even look up. It was normal for us to pop round to his office, but apparently fucking the boss makes one a little self-conscious.
I knocked and entered. He was standing behind his desk, setting up his laptop and sipping his coffee. He’d removed his jacket and I noticed his muscles were straining inside his crisp white shirt with every movement he made.
"Good morning," he said smiling going to the door to shut it.
"Good morning," I replied, giving myself one more mental rehearsal of the little speech I’d prepared.
"Jonathan, why did you send me your health history?"
He shrugged, leaning back against his desk with one ankle crossed over the other.
"Because it's important for you to know that I'm clean."
"Well I don't have one and am not going to have one done."
“That’s fine with me,” he replied, sipping his coffee.
I was stunned.
“What do you mean, ‘that’s fine’? You don’t even know me.”
"Actually, you know what? There's no need; you probably already submitted one when you joined this department."
Crap. I'd forgotten that I’d supplied extra medicals including stuff that was only optional, in my bid to show my seriousness about getting this job. The bastard knew my blood type.
"Okay, well... I ... I guess I wanted to say we can't do this anymore."
“That’s not what you said Saturday just before you came apart in my arms. You offered it to me,” he added nodding towards my sex.
I blushed furiously, glad my coloring would hide the embarrassment.
“That was in the heat of passion, Jonathan. I’ve since come to my senses. It ends here.”
He took another sip of his coffee.
"Yeah... Well, are you on the Pill?"
What? How dare he? Did he not hear me just end this?
"Jonathan. I'm not on the Pill, and I don't intend to be. We’re not going to do this again. My decision is final." I’d been on the Pill for a while but admitting this when I was trying to end an affair would not help me in the least.
He thought for a moment, watching me and slowly took a sip of his coffee.
"Okay then; that settles it," he began.
I felt a flood of a mixture of relief and panic. He was accepting my decision. I hadn't fully prepared for this.
He carried on.
"If you’re not on the Pill, I'll just have to pull out."
What? My jaw dropped open in shock at what he’d just said. He will pull out? I noticed a mischievous smile creeping onto his face. He’d intended to shock me and it’d worked. I wanted to laugh in shock but I couldn’t let him see me express any sign of mirth at his ridiculous statement. I quickly turned around and left his office without looking back. I went straight past my desk and to the bathroom. It wouldn’t look right to walk out of Mr. Carter's office into the pool office giggling on a Monday morning. I'd seen people walk out in tears before; even I'd had to bite my lip to not cry a few times when he’d reprimanded me. But giggling would start office water fountain chatter and extra vigilant eyes watching my every move.
What was I going to do? This seemed like it was on its way to becoming a fully fledged affair. Was I up for it? I could see why, as a man he’d want this. Men were renowned for their inability to see around corners when it came to sex. For them, it was often an in-the-moment decision; enjoy now, consequences later. I'd been in his penthouse and we ended up having wild sex instead of addressing the fact that we shouldn't be doing this at all. It’d even slipped my mind to ask him about his reported upcoming engagement to Isabella. He’d called it ‘fake news’ but I couldn’t be sure.
I went back to my office and began to work in earnest. I had to follow up on our mixer last Friday and thank our guests. I also had new prospects in the works and a presentation in the conference room in the afternoon. Tomorrow, Tuesday, we had our weekly meeting and an update would be expected from me.
Around 1.00pm, I saw a call from Gerry on my cell phone. Shit. I’d forgotten to return his call on Saturday.
"Hi Gerry,"
"Hi Lena. Can you talk?"
"Sure. Sorry I missed your call on Saturday. I got really, really busy."
I cringed at my own excuse, remembering what I’d done all afternoon at the penthouse.
"Look, Lena; I'm a bit concerned about Friday night. I don't think Mr. Carter likes me."
"Don't worry about it, he doesn't like anybody."
"He didn’t seem too pleased that I was attending the event. Is he some type of racist?"
"No, that's just his style. He intimidates all of us."
"He seemed particularly upset that I was with you on the balcony."
Oh dear God. I was beginning to panic; I didn’t want him concluding that Jonathan had a possessive thing about me.
"Gerry, listen to me. Jona... Mr. Carter just thought I was fraternizing too much with a co-worker instead of working. He wanted me back inside with the guests."
He paused for a long moment. I hoped he’d bought it.
"Okay, well I hope I didn't jeopardize my chances by following you out there then."
"No, Gerry. You did good."
"If you say so."
"No worries at all, Gerry."
"Hopefully I'll make a better impression next time."
"Gerry! Don't worry about it!"
He wasn't convinced.
"Okay, Lena; well if you hear anything, please let me know."
"Will certainly do."
My period thankfully arrived as expected Monday evening, proving the pill was working where condoms might have failed. For the rest of the week I was very busy with finalizing our First Banking Trust contracts and working with our in-house lawyers on clause revisions.
I did not hear from Jonathan again and heard Janice discussing how he and some colleagues had gone to attend a meeting in California.
He could at least text or call, a bitchy little voice in my head whispered, as I glanced at my phone for the hundredth time. Another sneering voice in my mind brought me back to reality.
Texting and calling is reserved for relationships, not fuck buddies. I ignored both bitches. I had to be grown up about this; it didn’t matter, did it?
As the week wore on without hearing from him, I felt my indifference faltering. Jealousy crept into my thoughts as I imagined him off in California with some skinny model, whilst I sat there checking my phone hoping he’d call. I just knew I had to somehow put an end to this as soon as possible. I was insecure and irrational when it came to relationships. I was an all or nothing kind of girl and could never handle the kind of relationship he wanted.
Friday evening, I finally got the text I’d spent all week waiting for.
“Hi. I’m landing tomorrow morning. My place? Noon? X”
I rolled my eyes; I was a nothing but a booty call with no self-control or self-respect. My period had ended and taken my spine with it. I replied.
“See you at noon.”
****
Saturday afternoon, Jonathan lay back on his bed, sweaty and exhausted from our sex marathon.
"Lena," he panted, pulling me close to his chest. "You are the most amazingly sexy woman I've ever met. You’re my California chocolate dream."
I laughed at his words.
"California chocolate dream, huh?"
He held me close, hugging me as his breathing evened out and he dozed off. He was cuddling after ‘no strings’ sex? I let him hold me while I listened to the steady thud of his heartbeat and gently stroked the lightly scattered hair on his chest.
When I arrived at the penthouse, he’d tackled me without a word, beginning our tryst right there on the stairs, ending up in his massive master suite where he’d fucked me nearly to oblivion. We’d taken a short lunch break then after he told me all about his
difficult California trip, I’d given him some good loving all afternoon, taking care of his every need, while demanding everything he could give me in return and more.
I thought about the events that’d led to me being here in ‘billionaire heir to the Carter fortune's penthouse. In the corporate world he was a force to reckon with, the sole heir to a company that employed hundreds of Americans; yet I could unravel him with just a kiss and stroke his head while he ate at my pussy. It was definitely a huge ego boost. Yet, how long was this going to go on for? Until he got tired of me?
All I knew was that we had sex but would likely never be able to see each other in public. I quietly slipped out of the bed to let him rest from his long flight and my insatiable demands that afternoon; and walked towards the large bedroom window. His bedroom, like the rest of the penthouse was professionally decorated, like the pictures in an Architectural Digest. I looked out towards the city, feeling remote and detached from the reality going on down below. Realistically, it wouldn't be long until I'd never see this view again.
While I stood there, I felt warm, strong arms wrapping around my body. Jonathan was solidly built from years of fitness training, his body sculpted to perfection. I leaned back into his hug, closing my eyes to savor the moment.
He gave me a kiss on my neck.
"What were you thinking about?" he asked, stroking my shoulder while his other hand was wrapped around my waist.
"About this view and how I won't be seeing it for much longer."
He stilled and I knew he was thinking about my words. He resumed his strokes but I could sense a tension that hadn’t been there before.
"Do you want to go out with me tonight? Perhaps dinner and a movie or something?"
I forcibly suppressed my excitement. Was he saying he wants to see me socially? Then a damper thought invaded my head: With his presence in the media?
"Jonathan, you know if we go out in public your picture will be in the tabloids."
"The tabloid photographers don't visit every joint. They only go to one or two specific clubs where they know celebrities hang out. We’ll just go somewhere else across town."
"Oh. I thought they followed you around or something."
He snorted. "Well, I'm not really a celebrity. But the places I often visit usually have a few photographers camped out. Most people don't know who I am, you know."
I was surprised to hear him say that. In my mind, he was well known because he’d been on Atlanta's Most Eligible Bachelors list for a few years now, plus the women he’d been linked to in the past were usually tabloid socialites who were regularly recycled amongst the ‘who’s who’ of Atlanta.
“Are you sure? Because I’ve seen your pictures and the women you’re seen with are always hounded for weeks after.”
He laughed and shook his head. “I’ve not dated ninety-nine percent of those women; if someone comes up to me to say hi, immediately a story is published about a relationship we’re having. Don’t believe everything you read.”
Mmmm. Very interesting.
"Well, if photographers won't be chasing us around town, dinner and a movie would be great."
"Okay, let's shower and get going," he suggested, pulling my hand towards the bathroom.
He'd asked for a real date outside of his bedroom; wasn’t this what I wanted? But I knew if I followed him to that bathroom we wouldn't be going anywhere. We’d been at each other all afternoon, tongues and lips everywhere; and I could sense that we still had more to give and take from each other. It was past 4.00pm and we’d need a few more hours before we were completely satiated. I stopped him.
"Why don't I go home and change then meet you later?"
I saw with the look on his face he was slightly disappointed, but noticed him quickly adjust and accept my suggestion.
"Okay, so I'll pick you up at 6?"
"6.30."
"Any specific place you want to go? Or shall I make the arrangements?"
I wanted to be in my comfort zone, go somewhere where we wouldn't run into anyone who knew us. I'd seen a couple of interracial couples in the Decatur area and nobody seemed to bother them.
"There is a nice little restaurant called Nion’s in Decatur and a movie theater is close by."
I saw him think for a moment.
"I'm not familiar with it. But no problem, I'll bring Jackson."
"I can drive us there." I offered.
"No, I'll bring Jackson."
“Does he know it?” I’d seen Jackson at the office a few times and knew he was an African American former marine, employed by Jonathan as his personal security detail and driver.
“He’ll figure it out.”
When I arrived at my apartment I quickly showered, styled my hair then went to my closet to find something to wear. I called my friend Shereen in New York to tell her what the latest was with Jonathan. She thought it was hilarious that he wanted a real date.
"He wants to go on a real date? Out of bed? For what?" She was incredulous.
I shrugged.
"I guess he likes the sex; maybe wants to solidify the ‘friends’ part of our ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement."
She cackled loudly.
"Well just don't fall in love, you hear? When you have sex with a white male that's all they want. They always go back to their own when they are done."
I knew she was right. Jonathan was on a different level from the white guys she had a similar relationship with in the past. He was wealthy, privileged and entitled; an heir to a massive southern fortune worth billions. This was just a fling to him and would go nowhere. The question was, when the end came, would I be ready to deal with it? I asked Shereen what she’d experienced.
"How do know when it was over?"
"He stops calling."
"What, without saying goodbye or an explanation?"
She snorted like I was naive.
"Honey, it’s not a relationship! You’re just using each other for sex. That's it. Just get as much as you can from him and be done with it."
I shook my head at her crazy last bit of advice then we ended the call. I pulled out a sexy, black, jumpsuit from my closet and paired it with gold jewelry and strappy heels. I just hoped that when Jonathan walked away, I’d be ready to let him go.
Chapter Ten
When I heard a knock at my apartment door, I just knew it was Jonathan. I’d sent him a text to let me know when he arrived so I could meet him in the car, but he’d ignored it, risking being seen by my snoopy neighbors.
I opened the door to a dazzling smile that had me melting into the doorpost, holding on for support. He was dressed casually, like a bit of a bad boy in a black leather jacket, black V-neck T-shirt and black jeans; his hands inside his leather jacket pockets. I watched him sweep lustful eyes over my body then he leaned over to give me a sweet, soft kiss on the lips.
"You look beautiful," he complimented me, looking into my eyes.
I knew we’d better leave immediately or we’d have sex right there on the living room floor. I grabbed my purse and stepped out of my apartment.
"Shall we?" he asked, extending his hand to the hallway.
I walked ahead of him and we headed towards the elevator. As soon as we got into the elevator, he turned around, and gave me another soft kiss, trailing his fingers down my bare back. The elevator opened and we walked to the parking area, towards the Chevy Tahoe. Jackson, his driver, jumped out to open the door for me, but Jonathan waved him away.
"I’ve got it," he said to Jackson, opening the back door and helping me in. He went round to the other passenger back door, jumped in and the car drove off. He reached for my hand.
"Have I told you look beautiful?" he complimented me, squeezing my hand looking into my eyes.
I laughed.
"No, you haven’t; thank you. You too," I replied, smiling at him.
I couldn't help feeling a little nervous. This was a real date and we were going out to dinner and a movie like regular couples do. We'd al
ready had sex a few times, and I knew I should be comfortable in his company by now. When I had sex with him, it was intense and unrestrained. I lost all my inhibitions and said and did crazy things that later had me questioning my sanity. I knew he was the same; he didn’t hold back when we fucked. But when he was in regular company, he was aloof and unreadable. Nobody knew the passion I’d seen in this man when he was losing control and crying out while I had my lips around his cock like just that afternoon.
I glanced at him; it felt awkward and new to be together away from the penthouse or the office. He was looking through the front windscreen, checking the direction we were headed. Relaxed and confident, he completely unruffled; unlike me. I hoped he wouldn’t start a private conversation with Jackson right there in the car with us.
Jonathan turned towards me about to say something, but suddenly his phone buzzed. He answered the call and for the rest of our trip he was engrossed in a business call, discussing deadlines and variables. I was grateful for the interruption; I still needed time to get used to being around him outside the office or the bed and I held his hand patiently while he finished his call.
Clearly, Jackson knew the directions to the restaurant, driving without using the GPS. I couldn't help noticing him glancing at me in the rear-view mirror once or twice while Jonathan was engrossed in his phone call. Being black himself, I knew he must be wondering what I was doing with the boss. I’d seen him many times at the office but I’d never met him until now.
We arrived at Nion's, a fusion restaurant in the Decatur area. Jonathan came round to open my door for me and we walked up the sidewalk.
The restaurant had neutral lighting with individual booths arranged intimately around most of the perimeter and free standing tables arranged around the middle. The decor was colonial meets contemporary with its hard wood floors, modern fabrics and soft lighting. The hostess, a pretty black woman in her early thirties met us at the front desk. She led us to a secluded booth towards the left side of the restaurant. Once we were seated, I noticed her give a lustful once-over Jonathan, then a glance at me of envy as she went off to arrange a server for us. Jonathan shifted in his seat to look around.