“You know, it’s true that we met in childhood. But we’ve been out of touch for years,” I say smoothly, giving the interviewer a confident smile. “We weren’t close back then. But now, we’re lucky enough that serendipity brought us back together, giving us the chance to both find something we needed creatively. We’ve discovered that our artistic collaboration has been incredibly beneficial to both sides, my poetry and his songwriting.”
The interviewer gives me an impressed look and a small nod of acknowledgement, as if she’s sayingI see what you did there. But she’s happy enough with the answer that she lets the topic go, instead turning the conversation back to music.
“Your listening party yesterday was a testament to that beneficial artistic collaboration,” the interviewer says to Ben. “People were really blown away by what they heard. Quite the stylistic evolution.”
“Thank you,” Ben says, his face becoming less stormy and lighting up. “Yeah, it’s been great to explore some different facets of songwriting with Lacy’s help.”
I see Ben relax as the tension leaves his jaw, and he uncrosses his arms. He shoots me a grateful look as the interviewer continues to ask questions about his new sound and the listening party. By the end of the conversation, the uncomfortable moment is a distant memory.
Ben seems more relaxed as we make our way back to his penthouse, even humming some new tune to himself in the car, and scribbling down chords in his little songwriting notebook, which he still insistently carries with him everywhere. By the time we get back to his place, the tension from the morning has dissolved completely.
As soon as the doors are shut behind us and we’re alone in his penthouse, Ben turns to me, his face shining:
“You did great in there,” he says, wrapping his arms around me and lifting me off the ground in a big hug. “How do you feel?”
“Good. But also glad it’s over,” I say honestly, wrapping my arms around his neck and planting a kiss on his lips. I can finally relax.
“Yeah, I can think of plenty of things I’d rather do over an interview,” Ben says with a suggestive smile.
“Such as?”
“I have some ideas,” he murmurs as he gently nudges me against the wall and starts kissing me urgently, first on the lips before working his way down my neck. I let out a sigh of pleasure as he slips the straps of my dress off my shoulders and slides the flimsy piece of fabric down over my hips, letting it fall to the floor.
He continues to kiss me, now more roughly, and I brace myself against the wall as I feel for his t-shirt, finding the hem and pulling it up insistently. We stop kissing just long enough for him to bring his arms over his head and slip out of the shirt. Without a word, he unbuttons his jeans and wriggles out of them, letting them fall to the floor alongside my dress.
I feel a tingle of anticipation between my legs as I watch. I can already see his hard-on straining at the thin fabric of his boxer-briefs. He steps forward, bringing his hands to my waist before running them up my body, taking my arms and bringing them over my head before pinning my wrists against the wall with one hand. He brings the other hand between my legs, stroking me through my thong for a moment before shoving it to the side and slipping a finger inside of me. I’m already wet and ready to go. After the morning’s tension, I don’t want a long, slow tease. I want to be fucked,now.
“I want your cock inside of me,” I murmur, locking eyes with Ben. His gaze is smoldering with intensity, but he doesn’t say a word as he simply lets my wrists fall to my side and grabs me by one hand, leading me to the large couch in the living room.
“Then take hold,” he growls in my ear as he points to the back of the couch, clearly meaning for me to bend forward over it. A shiver of pleasure runs through my body as I quickly wriggle out of my thong and grab the back of the couch, arching my back and sticking my ass out. From my vantage point, I’ve got a direct view out onto Ben’s gorgeous backyard, with the large terrace and the swimming pool. But I don’t care about the view right now. I wriggle my ass impatiently and peek over my shoulder.
“Patience,” Ben says with a grin as he slips out of his boxer-briefs, revealing his hard-on. I turn back around as I hear the crinkle of a condom being unwrapped. And then I finally feel him. He brings his hands to my hips, stroking my back gently, before pushing into me from behind. I let out a gasp of pleasure as he slips easily into my wet pussy, and brace myself against the back of the couch, gyrating my hips in small circles while Ben thrusts in and out of me.
It’s not long before we’ve worked up a rhythm together, a rhythm that is sending us to a quick climax. Just as I’m about to come, Ben grips my waist more tightly, his hands telling me he’s also on the brink. Seconds later, we orgasm together, our bodies shaking in unison as Ben lets out a loud groan and I let out a shriek of pleasure.
Afterward, Ben leans forward and kisses my back gently, before stepping back, untangling his body from mine. I turn to face him, wrapping my arms around his neck before giving him a long, lingering kiss.
“You’re amazing,” I murmur, pulling back to meet his gaze.
“You’reamazing,” he replies, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. “I mean, the way you handled that question in the interview today. You were a total pro.”
“I learned from the best,” I say with a sly smile.
“You exceeded my expectations. And thanks for keeping the focus on the professional side. Not this part,” he adds with a grin as he gestures to the couch and gives me another quick kiss.
“Sure,” I say lightly, but I feel a pang of discomfort in my chest. Ben is clearly grateful that I’ve kept up this little white lie, but it feels weird to me.
“I just think the less the world knows about our situation, the better,” Ben continues, as if reading my mind. “The privacy will be good for us.”
“You speak from experience. I trust you,” I reply. But again, I can’t shake my discomfort. Lying by omission is still lying, right? That’s what my father used to say. And if we’re not telling the world about our relationship, are we lying by omission? That said, is this even a relationship? I can’t help but notice that Ben didn’t use the R-word just now.The less the world knows about our SITUATION, the better.
“So, shall we get ready?” Ben’s voice cuts into my anxious reverie. “We have that event at the piano bar tonight.”
“Sure.”
“I’ll just hop in the shower quickly. Then it’s all yours,” he says, strolling off and leaving me standing along in the living room.
As I watch him go, I can’t stop the anxious thoughts that start racing through my mind.