It seems every time I’m in the building, I gravitate toward her picture in Jase’s office. I wish I knew who she was back then, so I wouldn’t have wasted so much damned time already.
Jase and Vanessa became close friends in college. ‘Besties’ I think is the term younger people use nowadays.
One time I quizzed him on their relationship, needing to know he didn’t have any romantic interest in her. Jase assured me one day, in no uncertain terms, that he and Vanessa are “…just friends, Dad. Jesus! Gross….”
Great friends even, besties. But nothing more. So I’ve left it at that ever since.
As if things aren’t complicated enough, at least Jase only thinks of friendship when he thinks of his bestie.
Me?
That’s a different story. And it’s a complicated one.
I mean, my feelings aren’t complicated. They’re plain and simple – me and Vanessa, together.
And way more than just friends.
But right now, even months after graduation, the whole situation has been off-kilter. Mainly because she doesn’t even know I exist.
Or does she?
The thought of her being swept up into my arms as I kiss her like I want to before carrying her off is something I usually reserve for late at night, in private.
But seeing her blond bangs peeking out from under her graduation cap.
Her full chest, the breeze just cold and strong enough to give me a hint of those gorgeous breasts and stiff nipples underneath her gown, makes my manhood grow.
I’ve lost count of how many times I wanted to drive by her house late at night. If I knew where she lived, that is. Maybe hoping to see her. Maybe needing to see her so bad, but I wouldn’t know what to say or do if I did.
Except probably tell her how fucking beautiful she is, how perfect she is.
How perfect her life could be if only she’d….
“Mr. Hart? Morgan Phelps is on hold for you. Line two,” someone says around the door, breaking my concentration.
“Busy. Take a message,” I grunt back, pushing down my annoyance at being disturbed mid-Vanessa dream like that.
I’m glad my back’s to the door, too, once I feel my tent pole of a hard-on straining against my jeans. A warm pulse of my lube slides the swollen head of my cock across the rough fabric, making me growl to myself again.
It’s done more than making my dick ache harder than when I was her age. This whole situation is…or should I say was getting out of hand.
I was late that day for his graduation and only caught a glimpse of her. But it’s haunted me like nothing else since. And in a good way. Her picture is almost a daily reminder.
Like a taste or smell you crave, a forbidden food you love to eat. Something you tell yourself that maybe you shouldn’t have, but only because of what other people might say.
Only because you’d eat it all day if you could, and with no regrets.
I say fuck other people and their opinions.
Just thinking about her is enough to put a smile on my face and some steel in my pants, except with Vanessa, it’s not simply a matter of helping myself to her.
Not just yet, anyhow.
She’s more than half my age, for starters. And there’s nothing indicating she’d be remotely interested in an older, mature guy. No matter how much money he has or how much of his youthful good looks he’s kept.
Plus. There’s Jase. I don’t know what Jase would think of me if he knew what I’ve been thinking about his bestie all these long, lonely months.
After his graduation, I told him that day that he was the new Vice President of the company, and to get his feet wet, he’d be heading up accounts and payroll as our chief financial officer.
No problem so far, right?
But with Jase working double-time at his new career, his time for his bestie became less and less.
I thought he’d ask her over or at least ask her to come down to see his new office, even though I suggested it as often as I dared without sounding too interested.
But Jase is a smart kid, and when he ran it by me to interview his bestie for an opening we have in accounts, I don’t think I’ve agreed to anything faster.
“I don’t want her getting special treatment just because she’s my friend either,” Jase told me, my smile only widening as I agreed.
“Then you won’t mind if I interview her?” I told him. “Alone,” I added, making sure I’d see her again and have her all to myself.
At least long enough to introduce myself, to learn more about her.
To just breathe her in for a half-hour, maybe more.
Heaven.
That’s the only word the thought brings, but now it’s actually Saturday morning, the day of her interview with me.
Jase was fine with the idea of just me and her, one on one. And there’s a very primitive, caveman-type feeling that tells me he’d better get used to seeing a little less of his bestie if I have my way.