Truth Meets Love (7 page)

I picked her up with my left arm under her breasts as they pushed up against my arm. The peaked nipples beneath her dress were tickling my forearm… I don't think she was wearing a bra. OH BOY… I about lost it. Heat was pouring from me; sweat was running down my spine under my shirt and suit jacket. I moved with her in my arms into the little alcove off the hallway, in a little more private area. I felt the chair in front of her as I set her down on her own feet. She had her back still pressed to my front when she reached around to slide her hands onto my dick after she freed my throbbing shaft from the safety of my slacks. The huge rush of air I had been holding escaped my lungs… just as my thumb left her center where I had been running it over her pierced clit. I slid my fingers into her and her pussy clenched around them. I had to have her now so with every ounce of courage I could muster, I tried to push the words, "I want you." I waited for her to tell me that it wasn't going to happen and it was fun while it lasted. But she didn't.

I stilled her strokes and took over control of the gear shift. I took the tip of my dick and rubbed her pussy from behind as my cock twitched… like he was reaching for her. I was about to tell her that I didn't have a condom on me, as this what not something I expected to happen, when she raised up and pushed back, effectively pressing her opening over the wet tip of my cock in one slow swift motion.

This could have been bad if I couldn't control this. I also needed to remember to pull out. I was free riding here and it was awesome… I have never been inside a woman before without "cover." I should probably be more concerned about the consequences of that fact… but when she reached down in front and rubbed her clit while I was inside her, I couldn't hold on. I pushed her forward, holding her out from me by her hip, and pulled my dick out to spurt the warm liquid in my hand just as I heard a door open and someone whip by. It was dark, and I think they sounded like they were crying.

The gorgeous woman that just reinvented sex for me quickly adjusted herself and just giggled with a curtsy as the girl went by that seemed upset. Then she straightened her skirt and started down the hall before I could think clearly. She said she needed to check on her friend and she would be back. I couldn't follow just yet, as I was hunched over, trying to get myself straight and holding a palm full of my own semen. I asked in a rush, "What's your name?"

She responded, "Harley" as she pushed the door of the bathroom open to enter.

I got my straight-shooter back in my pants and laughed to myself about the whole experience. I snuck down the dark hall to the bathroom to discard my fallen soldiers in the sink and washed my hand. I couldn't believe that just happened.

When I came out of the bathroom I didn't see anyone except Cody, who was taking off down the hall, and I could see by his stagger that he was very drunk and agitated. I am not sure what his deal was but he looked distraught, so I tried to catch up with him. I figured I'd see Harley again at the reception hall. However, Cody's celebrity status started to become an issue when a few girls recognized him and kept trying to get him to go on stage and play one of his songs "for them." He was in no condition or mood to deal with the attention, so we left before I could find her again and get her number.

I asked Marcus about her the following week, when he stopped by with my new laptop. He said all the olive-skinned hot chicks are on his wife's side of the family and he didn't know anyone named "Harley." That is just my luck… that was probably her. My dream come, true and I missed my chance.

If the Viagra stunt Cody pulled wasn't enough, I came home from taking him to the airport to find my living room was destroyed and an angry landlord was waiting for my return rather impatiently. She hissed out her disgust by letting me know that moving vans had already been called and I was to move my belongings out and vacate the premises within 12 hours. She informed me that I shouldn't expect my deposit back and she would send invoices for damages to my forwarding address. She then marched to the door throwing back, "It was clear in my lease that pets were not allowed!" Then she slammed the door on her way out.

He left me a fucking puppy with a sign tied to its tail. It must have been chasing it for most likely an hour judging by the state of what was left of my living room! When I finally dug her out from under the couch, the sign read, "I got you the only bitch I could find to love your ugly ass. I took the liberty of naming her Loosey! Happy Birthday! Peace Out, Cody."

I saw the ad for this place at work yesterday on the break room bulletin board. I was more than overjoyed when I drove by and saw it and the location so I texted the number on the ad.

I walk up the porch and see the lights on and the door ajar. I hear the faint bass of music thrumming through the door. I ring the doorbell and no one answers. I peek my head through the door and say "hello" in a raised voice. Still no response. Maybe they are repairing the unit for lease and working out of earshot. I get yelled at constantly when I am onsite for not paying attention when I am called. I am usually just zoned out on the vision of what I want to lay out or build and what materials and elements would be the most efficient and safest to use to develop it.

The property manager texted back an invite calendar request in the message for 8PM, so they are expecting me. I am desperate, so I decide I will just step inside the door.

I stroll cautiously through until someone acknowledges my presence. Someone is obviously home. I find myself following the beats from the music I hear streaming from the open loft area above. It is raised up with a railing that allows a view of the main entrance and living space below. I slowly walk up the stairs, calling out for Mr. Masters Hadley, as the text return says across my screen as I am checking the appointment again. It is now five minutes after eight, and I have a game to coach at the gym that starts at 9PM.

Yes, it is not lost on me that is it a Friday night and the highlight of my wild night will be coaching 10-12-year-old girls in their regional championship game. I can't be late or my sister Mags and Shilo, my niece and point guard, will have me by the short hairs. They may be small but I have learned that their wrath holds no less fury than any man I've stepped toe to toe with.

I glance toward the pounding of the beat as the words "put your hands on my baby" throttle my eardrums. I am more of a country fan myself. That is all that played in our house growing up. Well, except for Cody's band playing metal and punk in the abandoned barn down by the reservoir so Dad couldn't hear. Just as I am about to yell out "hello" for about the fifth time, I catch movement over to my right at ground level as I come up the steps and peer through the banister opening up to the loft area.

My eyes won't blink: the skin, the black lace, the shoe laying just in front of my face, obstructing part of my view of her bare chest--it's Harley… the girl from the wedding reception. I can tell by the color of her skin, her hair, the grace of her body when she moves.

She turns her back to the stairs, holding the silver pole between her hands, and she thrusts and rubs her center between her legs, up and then slowly back down the pole. Then she removed her left hand to cup her bare left breast in her palm and squeezed in rhythm to the beat of the bass that was faintly playing. I could barely hear it behind the blood rushing from my head to my groin and into my ears.

I follow the swing of her arm and then her shapely ass, brushed with the lacy edge of the shimmering black threads, as she extends her olive-toned leg over her head. She pulls her chest back up and twirls and then dangles herself upside as she spins down, winding her limbs back down the pole. It is then I see a discolored mark, a line with tiny stars inked up the outside to a point around her back that starts on her left side and wraps up and stops just below a patch of ink… a tattoo, but I can't make out the words scrolled in the flowers surrounding the script.

I can't breathe, let alone speak. This is crazy; as much as I don't want to leave the sight before me, my brain regains its post on top of shoulders and the lower brain retreats with the knowledge that we've already crossed some major boundaries. It also registers that what we are doing by continuing to watch her and worse, react by popping a full raging rod in my sweatpants, is so wrong.

I slide silently down the stairs, bounding for the open door to make my exit. I aim to get the hell out of there without her seeing me and then set up another appointment tomorrow to see the place. I reach the door and as silently as humanly possible, I go through and then pull it lightly behind me without closing it all the way. I don't dare look back and risk facing my offenses. Once outside, I let out a deep exhale, trying to calm the blood and ringing in my ears. Jesus Christ, get a grip man. It was just her…half naked… dancing around a pole.

My dick starts to twitch again in my sweatpants as I sit behind the wheel of my pickup. I regain consciousness when a Jeep drives by me parked across the street from the town home complex I have just snuck out of after my invading peep show. I can't believe I just walked in there. SHIT!
Oh well, she didn't see me; all is good,
I reassure myself as I look at the clock. It is 8:12PM. I need to get to the gym for warm-ups and ensure the pre-teen girl drama is contained before the game buzzer. I decide that I can stay at my sister's for one more night, and I can still work on her to let Shilo keep Loosey instead of me--even though Archie is allergic to dogs.

Chapter SIX

How About Another Time?

Hadley-

I feel like a new person. I had a hot shower and dressed in my dry-fit black Nike yoga pants and my worn green t-shirt that reads "real deal" across the chest. I move from the kitchen, turning off the lights. The snapshots I captured in my brain have slowed after my efforts to unwind. I head to my couch with a heaping bowl of strawberry cheesecake ice cream with fresh strawberries and graham crackers crunched over the top. Ryan Gosling is waiting for me, shirtless, in the case sitting on top of the X-box Connect--Tyler's Christmas gift to me. Really, it was a bribe. I could watch movies on it if he could come over and play his violent video games out of earshot of Mace. I won't play the shoot–'em-up ones against him, but I kick his butt in the NBA Finals game. We call that our "date night" and we try to meet once a month, if our schedules allow. Tyler is a resident medical student and studying to become an anesthesiologist.

As I put the movie in and it starts to load, I hear a text beep register from my purse, which is still sitting on the table next to the front door I notice is slightly ajar. I lock the door and bring my phone back to the couch. I pick up my cold bowl of ice cream and sit back. I grab my Korean mink blanket from the back of the couch and throw it over my legs and slippered feet. They are Wonder Woman slippers, Macey's Christmas gift to me last year.

I get comfortable and pull my phone back out from my sweatshirt pocket. There is a reminder for a missed meeting and a text from the number on the meeting invite. The text asks if we can reschedule for tomorrow evening at the same time. Staring at the screen perplexed, I review the words of the text from the number:

D: I came to the address listed in the invite details sent to me, above. There was no answer at the door when I stopped by. I apologize for any inconvenience, but can you please confirm the time and address and let me know if tomorrow would be an option to reschedule? Thanks. I am looking forward to seeing more of the place and my timeline is pretty aggressive
.

I am an idiot; did I schedule that request this evening, as opposed to tomorrow? I check my calendar… I did. In all the excitement today, I must have not changed the date of the invite. They stopped by?

"I didn't hear anyone come by," I whisper to myself.

I pull back my thoughts and shuffle through my last few hours of memories and find my answer. I pinpoint how I missed the doorbell and what I may have been doing around 8PM. It occurs to me that I had just finished up from my workout in the loft. The clock on my nightstand was displaying 8:18PM just before I stripped off my panties in search of the hot shower. I smile, recalling Joss Stone and me finishing our evening asking someone to "put their hands on me." She never leaves me hanging; gotta love her. I type a quick explanation, hoping to sound sincere and not flighty.

H: Please accept my sincerest apologies for the oversight of the invitation you were given. I was between meetings this morning and I had initially meant to schedule the viewing tomorrow evening at 8PM. I will be working in the unit tomorrow and will have it in move-in-ready condition. It has only been listed for 2 days so I didn't expect much interest so soon. Thanks!

My damn assistant may be too efficient. However, I can't really hold that against her, considering it has boded well for my level of effectiveness in the past. Shelby is on her honeymoon with Marcus, so I expect my issues with her over-achieving tendencies are pretty low on her priority list right now.

Tralen-

I hear the chirp of my phone as I am leaving the girls' bonfire in the backyard of my sister's house. Shilo and 3 of her teammates are sleeping in the treehouse I built her for her sixth birthday and celebrating our big win earlier tonight. After Loosey and I both visited the bushes out back, I handed her up to Shilo's outstretched arms. She is going to sleep with the girls tonight in the treehouse! Halla-Frickin-Lu-Yah! I might actually get some sleep tonight. I haven't gotten much sleep since Loosey invaded my life.

My sister lives on five acres about 15 minutes from the city. Her husband Archie is a dentist and loves her and Shilo hopelessly… as it should be. However, as a protector and owner of the "pants" in the family, I would place my bets most definitely on Mags. She played hockey on a league overseas until she met Archie, working for his residency in a Swedish dental office. He repaired her broken front teeth she had received from a puck to face she took defending the goal. Their story only got better from there.