Bittersweet Revenge (2 page)

The last word was what she woke up to. 

Nice. Classy. 

The message before his was from Brenda, as predicted.

“Okay, I got your text message and understand, but geez, you left me trying to explain to him why you’d left. Isn’t he a dream boat? I don’t think I’ve met a guy that classy in a long time. And he’s really taken with you, kiddo, so play it right. He’s definitely interested. Call me when you can. Oh, and thanks for the wine. It’s delish. Bye.”

She moved through the rituals as if sleepwalking – facial, shower, brushed her teeth, dressed in sweats, not planning to run today, just needing to curl up and make a decision – yay or nay to Rick. It was Sunday, the end of the long Thanksgiving weekend, and she realized quickly that she really wanted the day to herself and to not have dinner with Rick that evening. But she acknowledged that she did want to have dinner with him soon. 

So that she would not waver from her decision, she sent him a text message rather than phoning. She knew herself well enough to know that in a phone conversation, it was possible that she would weaken her resolve and say yes to dinner tonight.

R, thanks for your message. Nice to wake up to. Sorry, plans this evening, cannot have dinner, but any evening later this week would work well. Let me know your schedule. A. 

Now she could let go for the entire day and not let him into her space any more than he already was – his smell, his look as if photographed in her mind, the way he moved so comfortably in his own skin. Rarely was a man that polished and at ease. She could just imagine him in a court room.

Alison enjoyed the day, doing mostly nothing but watching football.  She was in a vegetative state. There was no doubt in her mind that she was going forward in whatever developed with Rick, so she had put it out of her mind as nothing to angst over. That gave her the freedom to enjoy the day. Long ago she had given up the lifestyle of bringing home work from the office. She’d paid her dues for years; no more. Especially on a holiday weekend. Of course, that was also part of the luxury of being a boss with a support team of ten people. Only on the eve of trial would she be in a position to work over time. 

Alison’s salary provided her the ability to have her home cleaned monthly, to send her laundry and dry cleaning out, and she knew that the money spent would come back to her ten-fold, unlike money spent at beauty salons. In her mind, she thought she was way ahead of the game. But that also meant she could spend time doing nothing if she felt like it – or reading, listening to music, perhaps even working on the book she’d started many moons ago. 

Her most pleasurable time was trying out new recipes. Alison had a reputation as a gourmet cook – beyond gourmet, to a higher level like the best chefs in the world. Friends and family loved being invited to her place for it was truly an experience for, of, and by foodies. There was a time when she considered going into the business, but her decision not to do so was based solely on a desire to not work 24/7 and weekends. Not that the legal field was far from that at times, but she actually had not spent too many extra hours in the beginning when she “paid her dues to the profession.”

The kitchen was outfitted with every gourmet utensil in the market place that Alison believed had a value toward turning out her finished product. She bought nothing on a whim, but carefully checked into something to be sure it was what she wanted to use. Her assortment of knives was professional, the best money could buy, as was her collection of pots, pans, baking utensils, and miscellaneous items. Over the years she invested a great deal of money in what she needed to complete each creation, things like butter paddles, a strawberry huller, vegetable cutters, and assorted miscellaneous tools of the trade. She had also invested in fine china, informal plates and accessories, table linens, crystal, non crystal drink ware, bar glasses, wine glassware, and cutting boards made of marble. This was her weakness, how she chose to spend her money rather than shopping for clothes or makeup all the time.

Her kitchen was designed with a work counter topped in marble in the center of the large and open room, bar stools for eight people on one side, and a table in the corner to seat eight. Even friends who normally did not cook much enjoyed preparing a meal with Alison in that kitchen as it was fun for everyone. She had a freezer that stood as tall as the refrigerator, which was always full for whatever people wanted to make to eat or Alison’s whim of the day. Her pantry was meticulous with an assortment of spices and condiments that she kept refreshed at all times. Her basic list to have on hand was drawn from Giata de Laurentis’ list, “Staples to Live By.” Alison knew that she could go up against anyone in the world of cooking and hold her own, but she chose to open her home only to her friends and an occasional reception for a non profit organization she was affiliated with. 

Rick had phoned and left a message to say that later in the week would be good for them to get together as by that time, he would know the schedule for his trial. He concurred that the first of the week would not be good for him either as he had no idea what he was walking into. 

CHAPTER TWO

Monday morning Alison was back at work after the holiday, spending time catching up with her staff about their Thanksgiving travel, and then making the usual Monday assessment of their case load. Traditionally, the period of time from Thanksgiving through the New Year would be rather light on the calendar as people were busy with the holiday festivities and didn’t really want to spend the time doing legal matters. This gave the staff a good chance to do inventory, if you will, see that everything was in good shape, filing caught up, and allowing for staff to take some extra time off if they had it available. 

The staff meeting was jovial, everyone wanting to know what their friends had done over the holiday, all complaining of eating too much. Alison’s secretary commented that she looked refreshed, which made Alison laugh. She had no intention whatsoever of telling anyone that she had met a man already very imposing in her life. They are all gossip mongers, so there would be nothing forthcoming and they couldn’t pry it out of her. 

A plan was made for the upcoming weeks, a review of their case load, what was outstanding and could easily be accomplished, assignments made and acknowledged. Everyone was comfortable with what lay on the horizon for the first quarter of the new year when the team scattered to their own desks and much despised cubicles. 

She stared out of the window for a few minutes and could not help but think about Rick. Remembering his phone call last night, she played the message again in her head, wanting to hear his voice, a voice she already had come to find comfort from. At that moment, she called his cell phone and left him a message.

“Rick, hi. It’s Alison. Happy Monday. I hope things are going smoothly for you this morning, no surprises. I wanted to let you know that I am keeping the end of the week evenings open until you get a handle on your schedule, which is not a problem for me. I look forward to seeing you when you are able. Good luck, and let me know if you need anything. Bye.” 

Chapter Three

The days passed and Alison kept busy with her schedule at the office and errands she wanted to take care of now that visitors had left town after Thanksgiving. Her plan was always to finish her holiday shopping before the onslaught once again of out of towners preparing for Christmas and New Year’s. That’s one thing about living in a city like San Francisco, the visitors make the city thrive.

Rick phoned Wednesday evening, the first chance he’d had to not only talk with her, but have a sense of his schedule from now through the month. The conversation was easy, catching up with one another’s days since they had seen each other, her plans for the month, which were light compared to his. He lamented having to spend such beautiful days in a courtroom whereas if he were back in Boston, it would be gray and dull outside and he would be happy to be inside.

“So how about dinner Friday evening, and if you are available, perhaps we could plan to spend some of the weekend together. I know, football is at the top of your list for Sunday, but it would be fun to watch the games together.” Rick finally stopped talking, waiting for Alison’s response.

Alison didn’t hesitate, was prepared for whatever plans he put forth.

“Friday night for dinner would be wonderful, as would football and whatever else you might enjoy doing over the weekend. I’ve left my schedule open and we can play it by ear.”

She wanted him to know that she was planning time with him, but that she also was willing to be available without being locked into specific dates and times.

They agreed to meet at 7 p.m. for dinner Friday, Rick leaving it to Alison to pick the place and to leave him a message where to meet her. The rest would fall into place.

Alison thought about the numerous choices and decided it would be fun for him to have dinner at Farallon on Post Street in Union Square. It was not too far from court and easy to get to for both of them, so she made a reservation and left him a message with the address.

Both were on time, a habit they admitted to being important between people, laughing as they shared a quick hug to say hello. They enjoyed an ocean experience dinner, as their waiter had described it, choosing margaritas rather than wine. They were shocked to learn it was almost 11 p.m. when they decided they couldn’t sit any longer and wanted to get out in the fresh air.

They walked around Union Square, holding hands, hugging, stopped for a moment under a street light for Rick to kiss her, which sent shivers up her spine. The air had not cleared their heads from the alcohol and Alison whispered to Rick that they should take the cable car to her place.

Half an hour later, they walked through her front door and Rick knew this was not a house but a home. The personal touches Alison had created welcomed him into her world and he took her in his arms and kissed her deeply. 

        “You are so sexy,” Rick purred as he slid his hand up the inside of her thigh.

       He kissed her lips tentatively once, twice, and then looked into her eyes again. This time Alison saw wonder in his eyes, like he didn’t believe what had just happened, and she felt a deep passion that she could only vaguely remember from her teenage years.

        She softly entwined her fingers in his tie and pulled him close, not particularly gently, but rather insistently. Their open mouths met passionately, tongues wrestling purposefully, her breasts pressed lightly against him. She wondered if he could feel the hardness of her nipples.

        His lips moved to her neck, kissing, biting, and sucking. Alison writhed with pleasure, and turned around so he could kiss the sensitive spot at the back of her neck. She pressed against him, and could feel his rock hard manhood pressed to her back. His hand reached around her and slid inside her blouse and under her lacey bra, cupping her breast and rolling the nipple between his fingers.

       She couldn’t take it any longer, her wet mound was screaming to be stroked. She raised her knee and placed her foot on the table, reaching down to play with her swelling clit. Her creamy wetness had soaked her panties and was starting to run down her inner thigh. Rick rubbing up against her ass felt so good, and she reached back to rub and squeeze his rock hard shaft.

        His hand found the clasp at the front of her bra and released her hot firm breasts. They seemed to disappear in his large hands as he gently rolled her nipples between his fingers. Alison felt her breath coming faster and bit her lower lip, soft moans escaping her lips.

        Rick dropped a hand down between her legs, discovering the hot juices flowing from her. 

“I want to taste,” he stated. She nodded and he turned her around, lifting her to the table. He slid her soaked panties off, and dropped them to the floor as he parted her legs and began licking the juice from her inner thighs. She gasped with pleasure and arched her mound toward his tongue. He licked her clit, flicking it with his tongue. She grabbed his head and pressed it tightly between her legs. He sucked her clit into his mouth and she found herself murmuring “yes” in rhythm with his efforts.

        She felt her orgasm sweeping up like a huge wave at the beach, swelling and washing over her. Her legs wrapped around his head and her whole body trembled from the ecstasy that was sweeping her in waves. When her legs finally eased their grip on his head she collapsed on the table, feeling like a survivor of a shipwreck washed ashore.

She looked up to see him standing over her, a look of wonder on his face as he openly admired her face, exposed breasts, and legs. He bent over and gently kissed her breasts, collarbone, the soft sensuous corner of her eye, and then her waiting lips.

        “I want to make you feel this good,” she whispered as she untied his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. His eyes studied her face as her hands feathered lightly across his chest, crushing softly through the dark hair peppered with grey.

        Most of the men Alison had been with waxed their chests, and she always thought she preferred that look and feel. But today, she quickly opened her blouse and swayed back and forth so her erect nipples played through his chest hair and brushed his strong, wide chest. She loved the sensation, and it was obvious that he did, too.

        Her hands found his belt buckle and undid it slowly. She unzipped his pants, and his shaft pushed out his boxers. She touched it through the fabric, feeling the dampness and found herself with an uncontrollable desire to taste it. She pushed his boxers down fanatically and went to her knees to take him in her mouth. The taste of him on her tongue fueled her passion and she sucked him deep into her mouth, stimulating the underside with her tongue.