Blindfolded Innocence
Page 29
"That's Stephanie. A girl I used to date." I didn't say anything.
"I should have taken it down by now, but haven't found anything to replace it with, or taken the time to think about it."
"How long did you date her?"
"About a year. Off and on."
"Did she, ah.. you know…" I trailed off, not sure what the proper lingo was.
"Yeah." Brad's tone was casual. "We had a few threesomes, two with girls, one with a buddy of mine."
"And she liked it?"
There was a long pause. "Julia, the entire point of the threesome is for the women's pleasure. That's what gets me off. I wouldn't have done them with Stef if she didn't like it."
"So why did you break up?"
"We enjoyed sex, but not much else. We were too different." There was a squeak as he turned the nozzles, and then the sound of water stopped. He cracked the door and hot steam billowed out. I opened the warmer and grabbed the extra towel that I had put in there. I looked away and held it out for him. He stepped out, pausing and looking at the outstretched towel. Then he flashed me a gorgeous grin and grabbed the towel, flicking it out and wrapping it around his waist. I tried not to, but caught a glimpse of thick meat hanging between his legs and inhaled sharply.
"Okay." I said. He tilted his head at me, confused.
"Okay?"
"Okay. I thought about it. I'll try it one time. Then I'll decide about us."
CHAPTER 31
A giant grin broke out on his face. "Really?"
"Yes. But if I want to back out at any time, I can. And if I have a billion stupid questions, you have to answer them all. And-" he silenced me with a firm kiss, grabbing my waist and lifting me up to him, moving his hands to my ass so that I was forced to wrap my legs around his waist, our wet skin touching.
"Yes. Whatever you want, yes. You make the rules."
He gave me another kiss and set me down gently, trying to bust a move by pushing me towards his bed and pulling on my towel, but I spun out of his reach and ran to the closet, him tackling me halfway there. We went to the floor and he pinned me, resting his weight on his elbows on either side of me and giving me a long, deep kiss, then rolled off of me and jumped up. I propped myself up on my elbows and smirked up at him. "I need clothes. Mine are soaked."
"Hmmm… Everything I have is my size. How about a big v-neck tee?"
"As long as it's clean, I'll take it." I frowned, rethinking that. "Actually, do you have a sweatshirt too? Your house is really cold." He offered me his hand and hefted me to my feet. Turning on the light in his closet illuminated rows and rows of Italian suits, pressed shirts, and polished shoes. The back half of the closet held his casual clothes, and he grabbed a Gold's Gym sweatshirt and plain white tee, tossing them to me. He pulled a shirt over his head, and some gym shorts on.
"You seriously don't have a stitch of women's clothing in this house? No niece, ex-girlfriend, or friend has left any clothes here?"
"If they did, Helga or Martha put them somewhere. I'll have to ask them where in the morning."
"They’re your maids?"
He paused, in the middle of flipping through some shorts. "Helga is, part-time. Martha more runs the house. If you call her a maid she'll bit your head off and I'll be eating burnt food for a week."
The walk-in closet had a granite counter and I hoisted myself up on it, pulling the shirt and sweatshirt on once I was seated. "What time does Martha get in each day?"
"Typically around 6:30; really whenever she gets out and about. She lives above the garage, in the carriage house apartment."
I stopped swinging my legs. "She lives here? Why don't we just borrow some clothes from her? It's only like, seven o'clock."
He raised his eyebrows and looked at me. "I'll wait for you to meet Martha. She's not someone you want to borrow clothes from on her time off. She commits 40 hours a week to me and has made it very clear that living on property does not make her available to me after hours. I have to respect that."
I raised my hands. "Okay, it was just an idea. Obviously, not a good one."
He had pulled a set of shorts out of the stack, and handed them to me. "These are the smallest I got. They have a drawstring, so you can probably tighten them to a point where they won't slide off. They'll look ridiculous, but I won't tell anyone."
I pulled the shorts on and jumped off the counter, pulling them the rest of the way up. I cinched the string as tight as I could and tied it.
"So, you gonna feed me, or should I pick up fast food on my way home?"
He grabbed me, lifting me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and I giggled as he jogged down the stairs and into the frigid downstairs. He deposited me on the kitchen counter and headed to the fridge.
His kitchen was built with three materials - stone, granite, and stainless steel. It was commercial grade, though I was pretty sure cooking wasn't in his skill set. As if he was reading my mind, he spoke from behind the open refrigerator door.
"I don't cook, but Martha always leaves more than enough food. Let's see, we got chicken and rice, vegetable soup, and meatloaf. Any of those sound good to you?"
"They all sound great. I'll take some chicken and rice if there is enough."
He pulled an armful of Tupperware containers out, stacking them on the counter. I could see the meals he mentioned, plus a few vegetables and a salad. One container looked like banana pudding. My stomach growled.
We ate at a small round table in the kitchen, on paper plates and with disposable silverware.
"You and Martha typically eat together?"
"No. She likes her space."
I raised a brow. "Antisocial?"
"Sort of. She's like the grouchy neighbor everyone stays away from. We have an understanding. I stay away from her, and she keeps the house running and fridge full. She respects my privacy, and I respect hers."
"Sounds a little cold."
He looked up at me while waiting on his soup to cool. "A lot of people are overly interested in my activities. It's nice to have someone who keeps their distance."
I toyed with a piece of broccoli. "So, about your activities…I have some questions."
"Shoot."
"What would happen? I mean, explain the scenario that would occur."
"That would all depend on you. The purpose of the meeting is for your pleasure. What are some things that turn you on?"
"You know, normal stuff."
"Normal stuff?"
"Yeah."
He sighed. "Julia, we are kind of doing this backwards from a normal flow. Typically, we would grow in our relationship until we are at the point where you would be comfortable sharing your fantasies with me - no matter how sick or slutty or dirty you may think they are. Then we would find a way to play out those fantasies, together. I want you to know that you don't have to do any… activities right now. We can have a normal, typical relationship until we build the level of intimacy where you can share those fantasies. Then we can act on those. I only brought this up now because I didn't want to sideswipe you with my lifestyle late in the relationship. I wanted to be honest with you now, in case it was a deal breaker for you. I don't want to waste your time, or mine."
"And I want to find out now if this is something that I would not be okay with. So I won't waste my time or yours if it is something that I can’t handle."
"Understood."
"So, going off of the understanding that I am turned on by basic, vanilla stuff, how would the scenario play out?"
He spoke carefully, not taking his eyes off me, as if walking through a minefield. "There are a few ways this can play out. First, we can either go to a club and pick a partner, or you can describe to me what you want, and I can give you a selection to choose from - their applications if you will. Then I would bring that person to you."
"What would happen once they are here?"
He shrugged. "Whatever you are comfortable with. I would suggest we stick with heavy petting or oral as an expectation. If you want to take it farther than that, you can take it as far as you want. I would expect, given how sexual you are, that you would get into the experience once it begins. I would also suggest we set a time limit for your first time, like fifteen minutes. After fifteen minutes, I would get us alone and ask you if you want to stop. The goal is to make sure you are comfortable the entire experience, that nothing occurs that you don't want to. You would be in control until you are ready to turn that over to me."
I had tilted my head to the side, listening to his words and trying to envision the meeting. It sounded… fine. Not anything I couldn't handle. I looked up, into his expectant eyes and nodded. "Okay. I can handle that."
We cleared the table and did the few dishes in comfortable silence. Apparently Martha had trained Brad well, he seemed diligent about following her rules, a fact I found funny since he seemed to break every other rule. As I dried a glass, a sudden thought popped in my head and I started to laugh.
"What?"
"What was up with that elevator? The alarm, lights, sprinklers?"
"Sorry - I had a hand in the building design and specs. I pretty much used the philosophy “Go big or go home” with most of the building’s options."
"You knew that would happen?!"
"No!" He started laughing. "I didn't read the damn manual - I just told them to get every option available. In retrospect, it might have been a slight waste of corporate dollars."
"Well, at least I know never to pull a fire alarm in the building."
He grinned and handed me a bowl to dry.
---
At 10pm, Brad walked me to my car. The moon was out, and frogs everywhere were croaking. Other than that the road was silent, lights off in the surrounding homes. He invited me to stay the night, but I declined. I needed my own bed and some alone time to think.
We stood by my car, his hands in his pockets. I still had his gym shorts and enormous T-shirt on, my dress clothes were in a plastic bag hanging from my hand. I started to unlock the door and stopped, turning to him.
"What happened with Broward's wife?" I need to know.
He sighed heavily. "I don't have any big fancy excuse. There is absolutely no justification for what happened. We were on a corporate retreat, in Aspen. I was down at the bar, drinking, and Claire showed up. They had had a fight about something, and she was pissed, downing drinks faster than me. As time passed, she got less pissed at Kent, and more friendly to me. I should have said no, or called Kent, or done anything other than what I did."
"Had sex."
"Yeah. Had sex. We went to my room. It was over fast, I didn't even finish. We both knew it was a mistake and stopped. She went back to her room, immediately told Kent."
"I didn't know you guys had corporate retreats."
He laughed wryly. "We don't anymore."
"What happened after that?"
"The next morning, Broward had a meeting with Clarke. Told him what happened, said he wanted me gone. Clarke disagreed, told Broward if he wanted me gone, he'd have to buy me out himself. Broward didn't have the capital."
"So you stayed."
He nodded, his face grim. "So I stayed. I know Broward hates me, and I don't blame him for that, but the firm is my home too. I'm not leaving unless I'm pushed out, and I won’t leave without a fight.”
“Shocker. And you seem so docile.”
"Hey, go easy on me. It's been a long day." He moved close to me, pining me against the car and grabbing my waist with his hands. He bent down and gave me a long, deep kiss, squeezing my waist. I threw my hands around his neck, kissing back and tugging on his coarse hair gently.
"It has been a long day, Mr. De Luca." I pushed him off of me gently and opened my car door, getting in. He backed away and watched me, waiting until I backed out before he turned and headed in the house.
God, I was a glutton for punishment.
CHAPTER 32
I knew the girls would judge my decision harshly, so I invited Alex, my roommate, to a late fast food run. Alex grew up the son of hippies, and his parents took the concept of free love to heart. Alex often wanders na**d through the house, and I have seen him date men and women, from young to old.. I knew I could freely discuss just about anything short of bestiality with Alex and wouldn't be judged. I called him on my way home. At the first mention of a free Whopper combo, Alex was game, and he was standing outside by the time I pulled up.
"Nice outfit, Jules." he said, crawling in my passenger seat. Alex is a six foot tall blond, who would probably be attractive if it weren't for the shoulder length dreads piled high on his head.
"Thanks," I said, not bothering to explain the attire. I pulled out of our driveway and headed for BK. We rode in companionable silence as I tried to organize my thoughts.
"How's your new job?" Alex asked, scrolling through my radio stations.
"It's good. Complicated. How's Julian?" Julian was Alex's current hook-up partner, a tattooed pothead who didn't believe in bathing regularly or shaving.
"She's good. I don't know how long we're gonna last. She's starting to get all bitchy on me, nagging me about stuff." I tried to look interested, but I was shocked they had lasted as long as they had.
"How's your love life? Luke still being all stalker on your ass?"
"I haven't heard from him in a while. I changed my cell and he still hasn't found out where I live, so I think I'm in the clear."
"I should have taken it down by now, but haven't found anything to replace it with, or taken the time to think about it."
"How long did you date her?"
"About a year. Off and on."
"Did she, ah.. you know…" I trailed off, not sure what the proper lingo was.
"Yeah." Brad's tone was casual. "We had a few threesomes, two with girls, one with a buddy of mine."
"And she liked it?"
There was a long pause. "Julia, the entire point of the threesome is for the women's pleasure. That's what gets me off. I wouldn't have done them with Stef if she didn't like it."
"So why did you break up?"
"We enjoyed sex, but not much else. We were too different." There was a squeak as he turned the nozzles, and then the sound of water stopped. He cracked the door and hot steam billowed out. I opened the warmer and grabbed the extra towel that I had put in there. I looked away and held it out for him. He stepped out, pausing and looking at the outstretched towel. Then he flashed me a gorgeous grin and grabbed the towel, flicking it out and wrapping it around his waist. I tried not to, but caught a glimpse of thick meat hanging between his legs and inhaled sharply.
"Okay." I said. He tilted his head at me, confused.
"Okay?"
"Okay. I thought about it. I'll try it one time. Then I'll decide about us."
CHAPTER 31
A giant grin broke out on his face. "Really?"
"Yes. But if I want to back out at any time, I can. And if I have a billion stupid questions, you have to answer them all. And-" he silenced me with a firm kiss, grabbing my waist and lifting me up to him, moving his hands to my ass so that I was forced to wrap my legs around his waist, our wet skin touching.
"Yes. Whatever you want, yes. You make the rules."
He gave me another kiss and set me down gently, trying to bust a move by pushing me towards his bed and pulling on my towel, but I spun out of his reach and ran to the closet, him tackling me halfway there. We went to the floor and he pinned me, resting his weight on his elbows on either side of me and giving me a long, deep kiss, then rolled off of me and jumped up. I propped myself up on my elbows and smirked up at him. "I need clothes. Mine are soaked."
"Hmmm… Everything I have is my size. How about a big v-neck tee?"
"As long as it's clean, I'll take it." I frowned, rethinking that. "Actually, do you have a sweatshirt too? Your house is really cold." He offered me his hand and hefted me to my feet. Turning on the light in his closet illuminated rows and rows of Italian suits, pressed shirts, and polished shoes. The back half of the closet held his casual clothes, and he grabbed a Gold's Gym sweatshirt and plain white tee, tossing them to me. He pulled a shirt over his head, and some gym shorts on.
"You seriously don't have a stitch of women's clothing in this house? No niece, ex-girlfriend, or friend has left any clothes here?"
"If they did, Helga or Martha put them somewhere. I'll have to ask them where in the morning."
"They’re your maids?"
He paused, in the middle of flipping through some shorts. "Helga is, part-time. Martha more runs the house. If you call her a maid she'll bit your head off and I'll be eating burnt food for a week."
The walk-in closet had a granite counter and I hoisted myself up on it, pulling the shirt and sweatshirt on once I was seated. "What time does Martha get in each day?"
"Typically around 6:30; really whenever she gets out and about. She lives above the garage, in the carriage house apartment."
I stopped swinging my legs. "She lives here? Why don't we just borrow some clothes from her? It's only like, seven o'clock."
He raised his eyebrows and looked at me. "I'll wait for you to meet Martha. She's not someone you want to borrow clothes from on her time off. She commits 40 hours a week to me and has made it very clear that living on property does not make her available to me after hours. I have to respect that."
I raised my hands. "Okay, it was just an idea. Obviously, not a good one."
He had pulled a set of shorts out of the stack, and handed them to me. "These are the smallest I got. They have a drawstring, so you can probably tighten them to a point where they won't slide off. They'll look ridiculous, but I won't tell anyone."
I pulled the shorts on and jumped off the counter, pulling them the rest of the way up. I cinched the string as tight as I could and tied it.
"So, you gonna feed me, or should I pick up fast food on my way home?"
He grabbed me, lifting me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and I giggled as he jogged down the stairs and into the frigid downstairs. He deposited me on the kitchen counter and headed to the fridge.
His kitchen was built with three materials - stone, granite, and stainless steel. It was commercial grade, though I was pretty sure cooking wasn't in his skill set. As if he was reading my mind, he spoke from behind the open refrigerator door.
"I don't cook, but Martha always leaves more than enough food. Let's see, we got chicken and rice, vegetable soup, and meatloaf. Any of those sound good to you?"
"They all sound great. I'll take some chicken and rice if there is enough."
He pulled an armful of Tupperware containers out, stacking them on the counter. I could see the meals he mentioned, plus a few vegetables and a salad. One container looked like banana pudding. My stomach growled.
We ate at a small round table in the kitchen, on paper plates and with disposable silverware.
"You and Martha typically eat together?"
"No. She likes her space."
I raised a brow. "Antisocial?"
"Sort of. She's like the grouchy neighbor everyone stays away from. We have an understanding. I stay away from her, and she keeps the house running and fridge full. She respects my privacy, and I respect hers."
"Sounds a little cold."
He looked up at me while waiting on his soup to cool. "A lot of people are overly interested in my activities. It's nice to have someone who keeps their distance."
I toyed with a piece of broccoli. "So, about your activities…I have some questions."
"Shoot."
"What would happen? I mean, explain the scenario that would occur."
"That would all depend on you. The purpose of the meeting is for your pleasure. What are some things that turn you on?"
"You know, normal stuff."
"Normal stuff?"
"Yeah."
He sighed. "Julia, we are kind of doing this backwards from a normal flow. Typically, we would grow in our relationship until we are at the point where you would be comfortable sharing your fantasies with me - no matter how sick or slutty or dirty you may think they are. Then we would find a way to play out those fantasies, together. I want you to know that you don't have to do any… activities right now. We can have a normal, typical relationship until we build the level of intimacy where you can share those fantasies. Then we can act on those. I only brought this up now because I didn't want to sideswipe you with my lifestyle late in the relationship. I wanted to be honest with you now, in case it was a deal breaker for you. I don't want to waste your time, or mine."
"And I want to find out now if this is something that I would not be okay with. So I won't waste my time or yours if it is something that I can’t handle."
"Understood."
"So, going off of the understanding that I am turned on by basic, vanilla stuff, how would the scenario play out?"
He spoke carefully, not taking his eyes off me, as if walking through a minefield. "There are a few ways this can play out. First, we can either go to a club and pick a partner, or you can describe to me what you want, and I can give you a selection to choose from - their applications if you will. Then I would bring that person to you."
"What would happen once they are here?"
He shrugged. "Whatever you are comfortable with. I would suggest we stick with heavy petting or oral as an expectation. If you want to take it farther than that, you can take it as far as you want. I would expect, given how sexual you are, that you would get into the experience once it begins. I would also suggest we set a time limit for your first time, like fifteen minutes. After fifteen minutes, I would get us alone and ask you if you want to stop. The goal is to make sure you are comfortable the entire experience, that nothing occurs that you don't want to. You would be in control until you are ready to turn that over to me."
I had tilted my head to the side, listening to his words and trying to envision the meeting. It sounded… fine. Not anything I couldn't handle. I looked up, into his expectant eyes and nodded. "Okay. I can handle that."
We cleared the table and did the few dishes in comfortable silence. Apparently Martha had trained Brad well, he seemed diligent about following her rules, a fact I found funny since he seemed to break every other rule. As I dried a glass, a sudden thought popped in my head and I started to laugh.
"What?"
"What was up with that elevator? The alarm, lights, sprinklers?"
"Sorry - I had a hand in the building design and specs. I pretty much used the philosophy “Go big or go home” with most of the building’s options."
"You knew that would happen?!"
"No!" He started laughing. "I didn't read the damn manual - I just told them to get every option available. In retrospect, it might have been a slight waste of corporate dollars."
"Well, at least I know never to pull a fire alarm in the building."
He grinned and handed me a bowl to dry.
---
At 10pm, Brad walked me to my car. The moon was out, and frogs everywhere were croaking. Other than that the road was silent, lights off in the surrounding homes. He invited me to stay the night, but I declined. I needed my own bed and some alone time to think.
We stood by my car, his hands in his pockets. I still had his gym shorts and enormous T-shirt on, my dress clothes were in a plastic bag hanging from my hand. I started to unlock the door and stopped, turning to him.
"What happened with Broward's wife?" I need to know.
He sighed heavily. "I don't have any big fancy excuse. There is absolutely no justification for what happened. We were on a corporate retreat, in Aspen. I was down at the bar, drinking, and Claire showed up. They had had a fight about something, and she was pissed, downing drinks faster than me. As time passed, she got less pissed at Kent, and more friendly to me. I should have said no, or called Kent, or done anything other than what I did."
"Had sex."
"Yeah. Had sex. We went to my room. It was over fast, I didn't even finish. We both knew it was a mistake and stopped. She went back to her room, immediately told Kent."
"I didn't know you guys had corporate retreats."
He laughed wryly. "We don't anymore."
"What happened after that?"
"The next morning, Broward had a meeting with Clarke. Told him what happened, said he wanted me gone. Clarke disagreed, told Broward if he wanted me gone, he'd have to buy me out himself. Broward didn't have the capital."
"So you stayed."
He nodded, his face grim. "So I stayed. I know Broward hates me, and I don't blame him for that, but the firm is my home too. I'm not leaving unless I'm pushed out, and I won’t leave without a fight.”
“Shocker. And you seem so docile.”
"Hey, go easy on me. It's been a long day." He moved close to me, pining me against the car and grabbing my waist with his hands. He bent down and gave me a long, deep kiss, squeezing my waist. I threw my hands around his neck, kissing back and tugging on his coarse hair gently.
"It has been a long day, Mr. De Luca." I pushed him off of me gently and opened my car door, getting in. He backed away and watched me, waiting until I backed out before he turned and headed in the house.
God, I was a glutton for punishment.
CHAPTER 32
I knew the girls would judge my decision harshly, so I invited Alex, my roommate, to a late fast food run. Alex grew up the son of hippies, and his parents took the concept of free love to heart. Alex often wanders na**d through the house, and I have seen him date men and women, from young to old.. I knew I could freely discuss just about anything short of bestiality with Alex and wouldn't be judged. I called him on my way home. At the first mention of a free Whopper combo, Alex was game, and he was standing outside by the time I pulled up.
"Nice outfit, Jules." he said, crawling in my passenger seat. Alex is a six foot tall blond, who would probably be attractive if it weren't for the shoulder length dreads piled high on his head.
"Thanks," I said, not bothering to explain the attire. I pulled out of our driveway and headed for BK. We rode in companionable silence as I tried to organize my thoughts.
"How's your new job?" Alex asked, scrolling through my radio stations.
"It's good. Complicated. How's Julian?" Julian was Alex's current hook-up partner, a tattooed pothead who didn't believe in bathing regularly or shaving.
"She's good. I don't know how long we're gonna last. She's starting to get all bitchy on me, nagging me about stuff." I tried to look interested, but I was shocked they had lasted as long as they had.
"How's your love life? Luke still being all stalker on your ass?"
"I haven't heard from him in a while. I changed my cell and he still hasn't found out where I live, so I think I'm in the clear."
