Uncivilized
Page 11
If Randall ever found out about that little interlude, he would be furious I’m sure. It would not only mean the loss of the grant he is giving me so I can publish my work with Zach, but it would probably mean the loss of my career if he wanted to really punish me for corrupting his godson.
God, I’m such an idiot. I vow to myself that I have to maintain an absolute professional distance with Zach going forward. My career is too important to risk on something that is so far outside the bounds of decency.
Chapter 3
Zach
“Zach… dinner is ready,” I hear Moira’s voice call out through the closed door to my bedroom.
I don’t answer right away, instead continuing to stare at the ceiling above me. Part of me doesn’t want to join her because that will mean more painful attempts at conversation with this woman that I’m attracted to, yet despise.
“Zach? Did you hear me?” she asks.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” I tell her curtly, and then I hear her footsteps moving away from my door.
We had arrived at her home here in Evanston. It’s a small, white house with black shutters and cheerful flowers dotted in pots all over the front porch. It sort of reminds me of my parents’ little house back in Georgia, and distinct memories of my mom working in her garden in the backyard assaulted me when the taxicab pulled up.
After Moira paid the driver, I followed her in carrying my backpack, a purchase she had made for me to carry my meager belongings out of the Amazon. In addition to my parents’ stuff, I had nothing but the new clothes Moira had purchased for me and a small, beaded necklace that Oehla, one of the small Caraican girls, had given me before I left. My bow and quiver, as well as my machete, were all left behind, Moira telling me that they were not allowed on the plane back to the States. I was so angry at that I cursed at her in Portuguese for what felt like forever, and she just placidly watched me until I ran out of steam. She apologized softly and said that she would make sure they were kept safe until I could return.
Sly woman… talking about my return, when I know she has no desire to see me do that. But I’ll play along with her little game… for now.
I roll off the bed, the damp towel I wrapped around my waist after a shower still hanging on me loosely. It was the first thing I did after Moira had showed me around, telling me to make myself at home and treat this house as my own.
I just grunted at her and decided to take a shower, using the opportunity to release my tension by stroking myself to a satisfying conclusion, all while imagining what I’d like to do to Moira’s body if I had a chance. I found it disconcerting that I didn’t think of Tukaba once, instead imagining that flame hair pouring down Moira’s back while I took her from behind. My release was hard, but I was silent as my seed erupted against the tile wall of the shower.
Looking back at the clothing I pulled out of the backpack, an idea suddenly strikes me. Moira said to treat this house as if it were my own. While she has made it very clear that while in public, I have to be fully dressed at all times, I know without a doubt that if I were back home in the Caraican village, I would be completely naked.
With a smile, I untuck the towel from around my waist and let it drop to the floor before I walk out of my bedroom.
Moira is in the kitchen, her back turned to me while she cooks something on the stove. I can remember my mother standing at the stove in our house, pulling a cookie sheet out of the oven, and I can almost smell the scent of chocolate and vanilla, items that I had long forgotten about. My mouth actually waters and, for a brief, insane moment, I consider asking Moira if she can make cookies for me.
But then I tamp that urge down, because I don’t want to ask her for anything.
I walk over to the kitchen table and when I slide one of the chairs out, Moira startles slightly and then turns her head over her shoulder with a smile on her face.
“I hope you’re hungry. I made—”
Moira’s words seem to dry within her mouth, and her eyes flare wide with surprise as she sees me standing there naked. Her mouth hangs slightly open, and her eyes drag slowly down my body. When her gaze reaches my shaft, it gives a little jump under her perusal and starts to thicken, which surprises me since I had tamed that beast not but half an hour ago.
“What are you doing?” she asks, her voice hoarse as her gaze returns to mine.
“I’m ready to eat dinner, just as you asked,” I tell her without giving anything away on my face.
“But… you can’t… you need to go put some clothes on, Zach,” she says, her eyes darting quickly down one more time to look at me.
“I refuse,” is all I say as I take a seat on the kitchen chair. I stretch my legs out in front of me and rest my hands across my stomach.
Moira swallows hard. “But… it’s not proper to be naked.”
Shrugging my shoulders, I give her a mocking stare. “You told me to treat this home as my own. In my own home, I would be naked. Thus I am na**d here in this place you tell me to call my home.”
She opens her mouth to say something, but then snaps it shut. Moira closes her eyes briefly and takes a deep breath. When she opens them back up, she has that same pleasant smile that I’ve seen several times over the last few days when I refuse to do something she has asked.
“Okay… that’s fine for now. We can talk about it later.”
Turning away to stir whatever is in the pot on the stove… which I admit smells very good… she then mutters, “Just don’t answer the door if someone knocks on it.”
God, I’m such an idiot. I vow to myself that I have to maintain an absolute professional distance with Zach going forward. My career is too important to risk on something that is so far outside the bounds of decency.
Chapter 3
Zach
“Zach… dinner is ready,” I hear Moira’s voice call out through the closed door to my bedroom.
I don’t answer right away, instead continuing to stare at the ceiling above me. Part of me doesn’t want to join her because that will mean more painful attempts at conversation with this woman that I’m attracted to, yet despise.
“Zach? Did you hear me?” she asks.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” I tell her curtly, and then I hear her footsteps moving away from my door.
We had arrived at her home here in Evanston. It’s a small, white house with black shutters and cheerful flowers dotted in pots all over the front porch. It sort of reminds me of my parents’ little house back in Georgia, and distinct memories of my mom working in her garden in the backyard assaulted me when the taxicab pulled up.
After Moira paid the driver, I followed her in carrying my backpack, a purchase she had made for me to carry my meager belongings out of the Amazon. In addition to my parents’ stuff, I had nothing but the new clothes Moira had purchased for me and a small, beaded necklace that Oehla, one of the small Caraican girls, had given me before I left. My bow and quiver, as well as my machete, were all left behind, Moira telling me that they were not allowed on the plane back to the States. I was so angry at that I cursed at her in Portuguese for what felt like forever, and she just placidly watched me until I ran out of steam. She apologized softly and said that she would make sure they were kept safe until I could return.
Sly woman… talking about my return, when I know she has no desire to see me do that. But I’ll play along with her little game… for now.
I roll off the bed, the damp towel I wrapped around my waist after a shower still hanging on me loosely. It was the first thing I did after Moira had showed me around, telling me to make myself at home and treat this house as my own.
I just grunted at her and decided to take a shower, using the opportunity to release my tension by stroking myself to a satisfying conclusion, all while imagining what I’d like to do to Moira’s body if I had a chance. I found it disconcerting that I didn’t think of Tukaba once, instead imagining that flame hair pouring down Moira’s back while I took her from behind. My release was hard, but I was silent as my seed erupted against the tile wall of the shower.
Looking back at the clothing I pulled out of the backpack, an idea suddenly strikes me. Moira said to treat this house as if it were my own. While she has made it very clear that while in public, I have to be fully dressed at all times, I know without a doubt that if I were back home in the Caraican village, I would be completely naked.
With a smile, I untuck the towel from around my waist and let it drop to the floor before I walk out of my bedroom.
Moira is in the kitchen, her back turned to me while she cooks something on the stove. I can remember my mother standing at the stove in our house, pulling a cookie sheet out of the oven, and I can almost smell the scent of chocolate and vanilla, items that I had long forgotten about. My mouth actually waters and, for a brief, insane moment, I consider asking Moira if she can make cookies for me.
But then I tamp that urge down, because I don’t want to ask her for anything.
I walk over to the kitchen table and when I slide one of the chairs out, Moira startles slightly and then turns her head over her shoulder with a smile on her face.
“I hope you’re hungry. I made—”
Moira’s words seem to dry within her mouth, and her eyes flare wide with surprise as she sees me standing there naked. Her mouth hangs slightly open, and her eyes drag slowly down my body. When her gaze reaches my shaft, it gives a little jump under her perusal and starts to thicken, which surprises me since I had tamed that beast not but half an hour ago.
“What are you doing?” she asks, her voice hoarse as her gaze returns to mine.
“I’m ready to eat dinner, just as you asked,” I tell her without giving anything away on my face.
“But… you can’t… you need to go put some clothes on, Zach,” she says, her eyes darting quickly down one more time to look at me.
“I refuse,” is all I say as I take a seat on the kitchen chair. I stretch my legs out in front of me and rest my hands across my stomach.
Moira swallows hard. “But… it’s not proper to be naked.”
Shrugging my shoulders, I give her a mocking stare. “You told me to treat this home as my own. In my own home, I would be naked. Thus I am na**d here in this place you tell me to call my home.”
She opens her mouth to say something, but then snaps it shut. Moira closes her eyes briefly and takes a deep breath. When she opens them back up, she has that same pleasant smile that I’ve seen several times over the last few days when I refuse to do something she has asked.
“Okay… that’s fine for now. We can talk about it later.”
Turning away to stir whatever is in the pot on the stove… which I admit smells very good… she then mutters, “Just don’t answer the door if someone knocks on it.”
