“So…” I say, “What are we doing tonight? Where are we going?”
He stands up and moves behind his desk with the assured stride of an athlete. “I’m going to deposit some money into your account so you can buy something nice for yourself to wear tonight.” I see him look over what I’m wearing with an almost indiscernible expression of admiration in those dreamy green eyes of his, then he continues to say, “I know you’re about to say that you never buy off the rack because the clothes you make for yourself are unsurpassable, so get lingerie or shoes instead. Or spend the rest of the day at the spa. Please don’t refuse the money, Tess. Think of it as a small gift of appreciation, from me to you.”
“Fine, okay. Thank you,” I squeak, and think I might be dreaming. “What is the dress code tonight? Formal or formal-casual?”
He doesn’t bother looking over at me as he replies. “I’ve got your number. I’ll text you all the details you’ll need, and send my driver to Washington Heights to pick you up at seven. That should give us a good margin to get to Kura by eight.”
“All right…” I’m dithering. He knows where I live, my friends’ names, everything. I stand up and walk to the door.
“And Tess?” I turn around, one hand on the doorknob. “Yes?”
“Thank you.”
CHAPTER5
ROSCOE
I’m on my knees. She’s so gorgeous she’s making me feel like I’m worshiping a goddess. She’s leaning back against the leather Eames chair that’s positioned in the middle of the living area in my penthouse apartment, her eyes staring at the ceiling, her mouth slightly open; she’s panting long shuddering breaths. As beautiful as the sight of her face tilted back is, I want to please her more, especially when she gives a little moan and then sighs and watches me doing it. “Don’t… please don’t stop, Roscoe.”
I bend my head down between her open thighs, licking her gently, flicking the tip over the most tender part, then I bury my tongue deep inside her. She shudders, runs her fingers over my head, grabbing me to pull me closer, deeper. How did this happen? It feels like we have been waiting for this forever.
She grinds against my mouth and arches her back. I can sense she is on the edge of coming all over my face and knowing this makes my hardness strain against my pants.
“No…not here. I want more. I don’t want it to end,” she gasps. I pick her up and carry her into the bedroom, throw her on the bed. I can't wait to kiss her. As soon as she tastes her wetness on my mouth, it makes her eager to return the favor, but I hold her off. “I’m too close. I want to be inside you when I come.” She’s tossing her head from side to side, biting the side of her hand. “Hurry, hurry.” She reaches her fingers down to touch herself, but I’m too quick. I grab her wrists and bring her hands above her head. “No, I want to do that,” I tell her. I stroke her with a feather light touch, my fingertips barely grazing the soft mound of blonde hair between her legs, the hooded nub pouts as she grinds her hips up. When I touch it, she gasps and bites back a scream.
I reach over and open the end table drawer where I keep my condoms. I know I’m not going to regret this tomorrow, and I don’t want her to either. I want her to remember every little detail of what I do to her for the rest of our lives. We want this to happen to the point of desperation. Her dress is hiked up around her waist, her panties are lying on the entrance hall floor. There’s no time. I have to fuck her right now. When I crawl between her legs, she rips my shirt open and runs her hands over my taut stomach muscles. “Roscoe, I want this… need this so bad.” I hardly recognize this abandoned wild woman growling at me in her husky voice. I open my zipper, but struggle getting my hard cock out because it’s too rigid. It takes a second to loosen my belt, then…
She envelops me. It’s warm and tight and heaven. We start coming together almost immediately. I lose the ability to hear, to speak, to see. All I can do is make her mine forever.
When warm water starts pouring on me, I open my eyes to find myself in my shower, alone. It is then I finally realize what I said as I came.
“Tess…”
* * *
I was waiting for her in the car when she came down. I saw her hesitate before smiling at George as she got in. George prefers driving with the window up when I’m out on a date. I haven’t told him I’ll be talking business instead. “Did you get the money?”
She wrinkles her nose. “Yes, thank you, but if you think I’m going to show you the lingerie I bought, the answer is no. We have ourselves a deal forone night. Now, tell me a little bit more about the operation parameters.”
I laugh. “Tess, you crack me up. You’re out on a date, but you look sad. Like a kitten that’s lost its ball of wool. And you’re starting to sound like a covert operative with all this nonsense about parameters. It’s just a date and it never has to happen again after tonight.” Though I have no intention of following through, because I might need her later on, that makes her lighten up, and for a brief moment, I get a glimpse of what Tess outside the office is like. She gestures with her hand to show me she wants to hear more.
“Mr. Ishida wants to see me with a steady girlfriend and I told him I had a fiancée. If he asks you about my date with Melissa, which he might because he’s set a private investigator on me to do a background check, tell him you knew all about the meeting because we wanted to use her for one of our brochure endorsements.” I watch as she rolls her eyes up to the car roof, but all she says is, “Sure, but it won’t wash. No girlfriend will be cool with her man having a meal with a supermodel. I think we should say she’s an ex and wanted to run some financial advice past you. I was there dining with my parents, so it was all right.”
She is sitting next to me; I can’t resist reaching over to give her hand a squeeze. “Genius.” She smiles, and it seems natural to keep holding hands. I stroke one of her fingers with my thumb. When she looks at me with a question in her eyes, I say, “Practice. What do they call it? Method acting.”
Tess allows it. “Why are your hands rough? You don’t look like the outdoors type.”
And that’s how it starts. We chat about how much I love sports and which one it might have been that roughened my hands. We narrowed it down to rowing and lacrosse. “Hobbies?” she asks, but I say, “Uh-huh. I’m bored of me. Tell me what you like.” She goes silent. “What I like doing was taken away from me. Someone I trusted stuck a knife into my back – but I don’t like talking about it. My father insists I should learn from my mistakes, and make sure it never happens to me again.” I look down and then lift my eyes to his. “And even though that happened to me, and it almost destroyed me on the inside, I don’t judge all people by the actions of one. That’s why I like doing favors for people. Everyone deserves at least one favor, don’t you agree?”
She says it with such passion in her voice, the courage she shows in her convictions makes me think she might have affirmations tacked all over her walls, but when I ask, she shakes her head and laughs me off. “No, I’ve always wanted to be a designer and I don’t need a quote on a sticky note to remind me.”
“I love what you’re wearing.” Not a lie, a pleasantry, or a compliment; it’s the truth. “Please explain it to me. The process, I mean.” She seems happy to talk about something else, and we chat about the fabric she used to make the little black dress she has on. I’ll say this much for Tess, she has impeccable taste. From the strappy black, high-heeled sandals on her pretty feet to the swept-up chignon style of her hair, the woman has an innate sense of what suits her and how to achieve it with minimal fuss and confusion.
I don’t wait for George to open her door when we get to Kura. I run around, holding out my hand for Tess to help her out of the car. Mr. Ishida has a man waiting for us outside, so I’m kind of glad I made the effort to be gallant. Inside the restaurant, we’re greeted by the small staff and Mr. Ishida gets off his stool to bow to Tess. Soon, she has all three Ishida Holdings division chiefs almost elbowing themselves out of the way so they can bow and welcome her.
We get sucked into the sake right away and the conversation flows. Mr. Ishida has dispensed with the translator and is helping his associates to understand what is being said. I deliberately slow down the pace of my English and notice that Tess has too. Her husky little voice gets even gruffer when she is shy, but I find it endearing. More sake. Twelve plates of omakase. More sake. Lots of toasts and ‘kampai!’ Lots of tossing back the sake, both warm and cold. I’m having a good time. I know I will get what I want within a shorter time frame than I anticipated. I reach over, raising Tess’s hand to my lips.
Mr. Ishida is pleased, and seems to want to take credit for our upcoming union. “Congratulations! Many years of happiness and good fortune! You must name one of your children ‘Haruma’ after me, I offer as a suggestion! It’s about time one of the Bridges family has a Japanese name!”