Risking Ruin (14 page)

Chapter Twenty-two

“You are such a vixen, Marisa,” said Trip, laughing and shaking his head.  His laugh made her laugh. 
Vixen?  Me?  He’s nuts. 
“You ready to get out of here?”

“Sure,” replied Marisa, relishing Trip’s hands capture of hers and not wanting him to let loose of her.

Trip stood and without releasing Marisa from his grasp, helped her up from her chair and escorted her to his silver Mercedes.  

“Mind if we drop the top and drive for a bit? The sunset looks like it will be pretty tonight.”

“Sounds fine, but if I get chilly, my friend the sweater might come back out to play.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” said Trip, pressing a button.   The hard roof folded like origami into the trunk with such fluidity that Marisa was amazed. 

“That’s really cool,” she said in appreciation.

“If you like cars, you should see some of my others.”

“You have other cars?,” asked Marisa.  She only recalled this convertible in his garage that was so filled with bicycles that even the small car barely fit.

“Yeah, I do.  I am a guy.  I keep them garaged just across the Mississippi state line outside Southaven.  I’ll take you some time if you like.”

Marisa cozied into the leather bucket seat, and they drove across the Mississippi River as the sun set.  The river that was normally brown glowed red and orange, reflecting the sky.  Trip’s hand reclaimed Marisa’s and he drove, their hair whipping in the wind with the last trace of summer fading around them.

Marisa wasn’t sure what state they were in.  They could be in Kentucky, Arkansas, Mississippi, Missouri or half way to Nashville.  It didn’t matter.  She was relaxed and happy.  The wind howled and drowned out all possible conversation.  The world was comprised of the two of them alone.  The stars had come out. The moon was new.  She rested her head on the headrest and stared up at the stars.  With her sense of sound obliterated by the road noise and her sense of touch dominated by Trip’s hand and the firm rumble of the car’s engine, the night sky felt richer than she’d ever noticed.   She felt tiny and insignificant but at the same time very alive and a part of the world.

Trip’s hand left hers.  Before she could process the loss, he returned his hand to her upper thigh and rested it there.  Marisa exhaled, happy to be back in contact with Trip’s body.  His fingers pushed apart the wrap dress and the feel of Trip’s hand on her skin thrilled Marisa.  Her comfort around him quickly converted to desire.  She slightly arched her back in response.  Trip gripped her thigh for a moment and Marisa began to tingle.  She wanted his hands all over her.  She wanted to be naked for him.

She lifted her head from the headrest and looked at Trip.   All she could see was his profile, illuminated by the glow from the gauges on the car’s dash as they sped down a darkened two lane highway.   As she studied him with appreciation, he turned to her.  Over the buffeting wind he shouted, “You okay?”

Marisa nodded languidly.  She couldn’t recall ever being this comfortable with a man.

“Great,” yelled Trip.  “Just enjoy.”

Marisa relaxed back into her leather seat and resumed contemplating the stars and Trip’s hand on her skin.  Trip moved his hand to her groin, covering her panties.  He pressed his hand into her gently but firmly, and her entire body lit up.  Marisa gasped and spread her legs in reflex.  His hand moved farther down, covering all of her most sensitive areas.  He gently yet firmly pressed again.  Marisa’s back arched in reply and her panties dampened.   He tapped his fingers in a rolling motion across the taught fabric that stretched across her labia and shielded her clit.  Desire like she had never felt pulsed within her and pushed to the surface.  She rolled her hips in appreciation.  Her heart pounded and she began to pant as Trip continued to speak directly to her craving in his own Morse code.   Her body began to tighten and quiver in response to his attention.   Thought had left her head.  She was filled only with need for him.

Marisa brushed back the rest of the skirt of her wrap dress, grabbed her panties, and shoved them to her knees, momentarily dislodging Trip’s hand.  As she kicked her panties to the floorboard, Trip’s hand returned to her body.   He parted her folds and stroked her full length with his middle finger.   When his wet finger met with her clit, a strangled moan escaped from deep within her.   He stroked and pulsed and paused, making her toes curl.  She wanted more of him.

Marisa kicked off her stilettos and placed her feet on the dashboard.  She dropped her knees to the sides and reclined the seat, granting him full access and permitting the night sky to shine down on her spread and open body.   In her modified butterfly pose, her eyes shifted between the sky and Trip’s hand.  She felt desired and alive.  She forced herself to look at the stars while Trip plunged into her before resuming attention on her clit.  She shivered and then shook and bucked, Trip’s hand never failing despite her knees now being firmly pressed together.  She howled and groaned and wanted nothing more than to hold him in her mouth.   The night sky fell out of her vision and the world went momentarily dark.  She was heady and exhilarated.  She lacked bones in her body.  Her muscles were useless.

Trip released his grip and cupped her, revisiting the firm but gentle pressure that he had earlier employed.   As her pulse slowed and shallow breaths gave way to deep cleansing ones, Trip removed his hand and placed it back on her thigh.  Marisa stared up at the stars and grinned from ear to ear.  She looked over to him.   Even from her reclined pose, she could see that his cheeks were gathered in a smile.   Marisa rose to a sitting position and tucked her feet under her bottom.  She wrapped her dress around her legs in a vain attempt to trap the orgasm’s glow near her.

Marisa swiveled to Trip and kissed him on the cheek.  She took his earlobe between her teeth and gave a teasing tug.  Her hand sought the zipper to his crisp suit pants.  “Marisa,” he said, taking his foot off the accelerator.  The noise from the wind and the car’s engine plummeted.  “I’d love to, but I need to get you home safely,” he intoned in a strong and soothing voice.  He took her hand in his and rubbed circles in her palm with his thumb.  “Truly.  Just relax,” he instructed as the car picked up speed.

Marisa rocked back into her seat, wholly disappointed, but understanding of his sensible request.  She moved the seat back to an upright position and sighed deeply, her eyes returning to take in the stars.  His hand found its place on her thigh and they continued to drive.

Chapter Twenty-three

“So, you’re
not
coming up?,” said Marisa in disbelief. 
What went wrong?  Did I do something wrong?

Trip’s car sat at the curb outside of Marisa’s condo building.  Trip shook his head.

“Look, I don’t want to fight about this.  But I got no sleep last night and if I come up we’ll end up doing something we agreed that we wouldn’t do or I’ll be up all night thinking about what I’d rather be doing with you.”

So, you’re going go home, jerk off, and fall asleep in front of the TV?,
Marisa imagined herself saying.   Instead she sighed.  “You’re right. I know that.  It’s not like I slept well last night either. Tonight’s been great.  Completely unexpected.”

Trip grinned and shook his head.  “I fly out tomorrow morning pretty early for Tampa.  I’ll be down there until Tuesday.  Can I see you when I get back?”

“Well, I’m sure we’ll have the PI’s report by Tuesday.  Should I call your assistant and set up a time for us to go over it?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Are you asking me out on a date, Trip?”

“After tonight you’re making me work for it?  You really are going to ruin me.”

“Indubitably,” replied Marisa with a smile and a wink, as she turned on her heel and nearly sashayed into the lobby.

“Marisa!,” he called, leaning across the car’s console.  “Marisa!  Thursday dinner?”

“I can do that.”

Marisa dialed Erica’s number as soon as the elevator doors opened on her floor.   
I’ve got another date with Trip.  In a week!  A freaking week.  

“Hey, Marisa.  What’s up?”

“Am I calling too late?”

“No, it’s just now ten.”

“Is it only ten?  I thought it would be later.  It feels later”

“So, where have you been with Mr. Hottie Client?  It’s not like you to lose track of time like this.”

“We had a work meeting that turned into dinner that turned into a long drive.”

“Oh, where did he take you?  Houston’s?”

“You won’t believe it, but we had burgers at Earnestine and Hazel’s.  I honestly don’t think I’ve ever been in there sober.”

“Mr. Fancy Pants Brannon took you to that dive?  What is wrong with him?”

“Actually, it was a good call.  I didn’t have much breakfast, skipped lunch, and was starving.  And it’s not like either of us want to be broadcasting our relationship to the world.   Earnestine and Hazel’s may not be gourmet, but it has fast service and I’ll tell you this -- around six in the evening it is a ghost town.”

“As long as he’s being nice.”

“Well, he was very nice, if you know what I mean, and I think you do.”

“You had sex with him again?  Way to go.”

“I haven’t had sex with him again.  Twice.”

“I can’t even begin to process what you mean by that.  Listen, I’m working in my studio tomorrow.  If my mom can shuttle the kids around and feed them, can we meet for coffee in the afternoon?”

“Yes.  Just text me.”

“Okay, good night, my crazy single friend.”

“Good night, suburban mommy of two.  See you tomorrow.”

Marisa set her phone on her coffee table.    She walked to her kitchen and pulled a beer from the fridge.  She was going to enjoy this Ghost River and then go to sleep.

***

“Vanessa, this is Marisa Tanner from Selden Hodges.  I got your name from one of my partners, Sam Banks.  My assistant called you yesterday.   Do you have time to talk about doing some work?,” said Marisa into the phone.

“Absolutely.  Do you need me to come by your office?  I don’t know how sensitive this is and if you’re comfortable with it, I’d prefer not to be seen near you or your office and would prefer to talk over the phone.”

“That makes sense to me.  I’m happy to talk on the phone.”

“Good.  Your assistant gave me a brief overview yesterday.  This sounds interesting.”

“Yes, it is just so strange that a lot of these plaintiffs appear to be meeting in a divorce support group and my client wants to check it out.   I’ve been approved to hire you to cover tonight’s group meeting and the Saturday afternoon group meeting.”

“I understand that you want me to infiltrate the group and learn what I can about the attendees. Anything you’re looking for in particular?”

“The plaintiffs are all alleging sexual harassment at work, so clearly anything about lawsuits would be really important.  I don’t know if audio is feasible or something you’d recommend.  We do want pictures of every attendee either coming or going.”

“This is the big Methodist church in East Memphis, right? The big one right on Poplar?”

“Yes, that’s the one.  I haven’t been there, so I don’t know what the layout from the parking lot is or whether there are multiple entrances or anything.”

“Don’t sweat it. That’s my job,” replied Vanessa.  “I’ll get you the best pictures and intelligence I can.   I may use this evening’s meeting to scope out the place and then return on Saturday with equipment to gather what you’re looking for.”

“I trust your judgment.  I also understand from my assistant that you’re divorced yourself.”

“Yes, the worst case scenario is that I get some much needed counseling out of these two meetings,” said Vanessa with a laugh that did not obscure the honesty of her comment.  Marisa smiled happily. 
She’s going to blend in just fine with any divorcée support group. I’m glad Sam suggested her.

“We are working on a tight time table here,” continued Marisa. “I’ll need pictures and a report from you by next Tuesday at lunch.  Also, I haven’t confirmed it yet, but the client may want to meet directly with you.  I know that isn’t standard when a lawyer is involved, but it may be needed here.”

“Okay, I’m on it.  Pictures, a report, and any useable audio will be in your hands this time next week.”

“Excellent.  I’m looking forward to it.   Good luck this evening.”

Marisa set the phone down on its cradle and picked up her coffee mug.   It was empty.   “Jane, can you get me a refill?,” Marisa called.  She turned to her emails and her phone rang.  She snatched it and tucked it into the crook of her neck.  “Marisa Tanner,” she said smoothly.

“Marisa.  It’s Trip.”  Marisa’s stomach did a loop.   “Listen, this is really out of the blue, but let’s just say I’ve been a little distracted the past week or so and got my schedule screwed up.  You remember Bert, my friend with the tattoos and mustache?  Well, I’d promised him that I’d do a relay triathlon with him this weekend, but I forgot that I’ll be in Tampa.   Can you fill in?”

“Trip, I’ve never done one of those and I don’t ride.”

“Precisely.  It’s a sprint race in Cordova.  Bert bikes and swims.  One of the other guys we ride with is doing the bike leg and I was supposed to run.  It’s only a 5k.  No pressure.  I really don’t want to let the guys down, and you’re a great runner.”

“Is it Saturday or Sunday?”

“Oh, good.  You’re considering this.  It’s Saturday.  Starts at nine at the high school.  Should be done in under two hours.  There’s beer afterwards.  The registration has already been paid. You just have to show up, find Bert, and run the 5K.”

“Okay, I can spend Friday night with my parents in Collierville and do that Saturday,” said Marisa, silently calculating how she was going to explain this sudden interested in triathlons to her mother.

“Great.  Thank you so much.  I’ll send you and Bert each other’s contact info in case anything comes up.”

“No problem.  It’s a good excuse to get a race in.  And Trip, would this be the same Bert who saw us act like overly hormonal teenagers?”

“Absolutely.  Know any other heavily tattooed and mustachioed Berts running around Memphis?  But don’t sweat it. He’s one of my best friends and I’ve got more dirt on him than there  is mud in the Mississippi.”

“Before you go, one other thing.  Why do you think I’m a good runner?”

The line went silent.  “Trip?”

“I’m here.  I know you’re a great runner.  I’ve seen you run by my house for over a year now.”

Marisa’s world stopped spinning. 
He’s watched me?  For a year? 

“Listen,” continued Trip apologetically, “I’ve got to go into this meeting.  Call me to tell me how the race went, if you want.  Bye.”