I tasted the pale ale she had been drinking with its bitter hops flavor. She opened up almost immediately, giving me permission to explore. The world narrowed down to just our table. I knew there were dozens of other people around, mingling, walking past, and talking right beside us. I could still hear the din of the bar, but it faded into the background. My senses were overwhelmed with Petra and her sweetness.
I didn’t consider myself lonely, and I wasn’t looking for love, but suddenly I had a thirst for companionship that went beyond the carnal appetite. I felt like I had gotten to know her in the small amount of time we shared. We worked well together. She was serious when she had to be but wildly exotic when the occasion called for it. I never would have guessed that she would have gone to bed with someone on a whim. The thought crossed my mind that maybe she would make love to me. If she had been willing to try it with a casual acquaintance, why not with a man who had invested so heavily in her business?
The thought was sobering, and I pulled back. “I don’t expect you to do this.”
“Do what?” Petra asked innocently.
“This,” I answered, leaning forward to capture her lips again. I broke it off as soon as she relinquished control, proving that I was enjoying myself but that I could stop anytime.
“I like this,” she answered without hesitation.
“Do you want to get out of here?” I asked. Against my better judgment, I decided to pursue her. I didn’t want a whole bunch of witnesses, and we certainly couldn’t do a whole lot more in a crowded bar.
“I thought you would never ask.” She folded her napkin and put it up on the table beside her empty beer glass.
We’d both had too much to drive, so we ordered a rideshare and waited for it out on the curb. Gavin was long since gone. I didn’t know if he’d gone home with his friend or if he was still there in the bar. It didn’t seem to matter. He was an adult and could take care of himself. I had more important things on my mind.
In the back seat of the rideshare, I couldn’t keep my hands off her. She was so eager and willing, so beautiful and sensual. We both dove into the exchange with open minds, going as far as we could without making the driver uncomfortable.
I eased a hand behind her back, pulling her up onto my lap. She laughed, tilting her head back to let me feast upon her throat. I felt her palms planted firmly on my shoulders, her trimmed fingernails digging into my skin.
Tired of waiting, I guided her head down, bringing her lips to mine. She dove into the action with a fervor that I found rewarding. Not only did she have the energy to wake up at two in the morning, but it seemed she had energy to burn.
I let my hand explore the curve of her back. Her shoulders were well defined through years of pounding out dough. Her shoulder blades were perfectly set, swinging gently from side to side as she moved.
She didn’t want to sit still. I held an athlete in my lap, a woman whose internal engine knew no bounds. My dick grew hard just thinking about what she could do with all that passion. I wanted her then, in the back seat. If there was a privacy screen we could have drawn to lock the driver out, I would have been all over that.
To his credit, the driver left us in peace. He didn’t say a word, didn’t make any indication that he was unhappy with what was going on. I figured he had probably seen it before. We were two young professionals making out, not a crazy foursome or a half-dressed couple literally fucking.
I had to tear myself away. It was all happening too fast. She was young and hungry, and I hadn’t even known she was available until recently. “What about Cory?” I asked.
“I like Cory,” she said, sliding over onto the seat beside me.
Buckling her seat belt, she looked out the window. The lights of the other cars on the highway raced by us, bringing their passengers across town to hundreds of different destinations. I almost thought she wasn’t going to answer, but finally she began to speak.
“I like Cory, but I don’t think we’re exclusive. And I like you too.”
I couldn’t explain how happy those five little words made me. Earlier, I had been angry with Cory for stepping over the line, but now that the spotlight was shining in my direction, I was just as happy to share it. There was something about Petra that was liberating. I didn’t need to be some all-powerful politician. If she was by my side, I would be content just being who I was. Of course, most politicians were married. It made for good PR, and spouses were often able to stand in for their loved ones during dinners and public events. I caught myself thinking about marriage and stopped.
Was I crazy? Had the desire for Petra taken me so far that I was seriously contemplating spending the rest of my life with her? I barely even knew her. I needed to get ahold of myself and stop my thoughts from wandering in that direction. If we had a good time together, a few laughs and a little bit of innocent fun, that was one thing. I didn’t want to make it serious. I wasn’t ready to be serious.
Dismissing that errant thought as temporary insanity, I remained in my seat for the rest of the ride. Petra glanced over at me once or twice, but she held her tongue. We got out of the rideshare when it pulled up outside Petra’s apartment. The driver looked like he wanted to say something but thought better of it. I waited for the ping on my phone and gave him a big tip. He was circumspect when I needed him to be, and I wanted to reward him for that service.
He pulled away, leaving Petra and me alone on the sidewalk. I went up to her, taking her by the hand. Her palm in mine wasn’t exactly smooth. The skin was rough as if it had been washed hundreds of times without any sort of moisturizing routine. I let my thumb drift over the back of her palm, feeling over the moon when she closed her fingers around mine.
“Do you know what it's like to always be the bridesmaid and never the bride?” she said. “I’m glad you asked about Cory. I don’t want to hurt him any more than you do. But you’re Donovan Lancaster. I have to admit I’m a little star struck.”
“You never told me you knew my name by reputation,” I accused. She was stroking my ego big time, and I had to admit it felt nice.
“Who in Chicago doesn’t know the Lancasters?” she responded. “I did a little digging when you first came to my store. If I was going to accept your investment, I wanted to know what I was getting into.”
“And what did you find out?”
“That you’re not your father,” she said.
“How do you know?”
“Because I’ve talked to you. Your father would never have rested his political career on a failing bakery and a handful of businesses that need help.”