On The Sly

“Son of a bitch.” Darren MacDonald leaned forward in his chair and his gaze burned past Gwen’s shoulder. “What the hell is he doing here?”

      She didn’t follow her brother’s gaze. Instead, she speared a slice of cucumber and popped it into her mouth. She knew damn well who he was talking about.

      He flipped open his phone and furiously punched at the silver face. “Grant, it’s me. You’ll never guess who just walked in here like he owns the place.”

      Conn Jamison. He owned five of the twelve condominiums that dotted the waterfront and two of the hotels. She knew for a fact that his appearance at the Cavendish Café was no coincidence. Conn was a local boy and he preferred to take his mid-day meetings in the back booth of an old pub tucked in the city’s north end instead of on the property itself.

      This appearance was meant to mind-fuck her brother. It was working.

      Conn took a seat by the window overlooking the harbor and gave a friendly nod to the waitress as she approached.

      Coffee, black, and a slice of key lime pie.

      Gwen said it to herself just before she heard him say the same to the waitress. His gaze cut to hers. His mouth turned up slightly and he nodded.

      She tipped her head and took a slow sip of her iced tea.

      Darren disconnected and tucked his phone into his pocket. “I don’t believe it. He went to university with Adams.”

      More than that. They were roommates. They were in a band together.

      Gwen shrugged. “That doesn’t mean anything. Business is business.”

      “And what if Adams hears I was bad-mouthing his good buddy?”

      “Then that’ll teach you to keep your mouth shut.” She shoved her plate aside and gestured to the waitress. “Vodka and Grey Goose, please.”

      Darren rubbed his eyes. “Jesus, Gwen, it’s not even noon.”

      She shrugged. “I don’t have anywhere to be. For Christ’s sake, stop beating your foot against the table like that. Have a drink to calm your nerves.”

      “All I need is to go into that meeting stinking like the bottom of a shot glass.” He peered over his shoulder to where Conn was engrossed in his daily newspaper. “Dad’s going to skin me alive if this blows up in my face.”

      She sagged back against the plush seat and shook her head. “What’s the worst that could happen? You said yourself that this place is going to put the company in the red. I saw with my own eyes the cracks in the walls, the outdated bathrooms, not to mention that the proposed development of the adjoining property has the city up in arms.”

      “No thanks to him.”

      “Jamison has nothing to do with it. Dad pissed off a lot of people when he bought out that church and bulldozed it to the ground. Now he wants to take this beautiful old hotel and turn it into a glowing eyesore, just like the Candlewick Suites. No one wants it but the company and Councilman Dwyer. Everyone else wants to flatten this place and use the land to extend the boardwalk, like they did across the harbor.”

      “Oh, Jesus, give it a rest.”

      She looked to Conn and choked back a laugh. His jacket had come off and he had rolled up his sleeves to the elbows, and now he was tucking a napkin into his collar. Even in one of the daintiest restaurants in the city he still acted like he was sitting down for a feed at a barbeque. He began shoveling his pie into his mouth as he scowled back at the headlines of his newspaper.

      Clearing her throat of her laughter, Gwen pinned her older brother with a pitying look and shook her head. “This whole sale stinks of disaster and you know it. The only reason you’re here is because Dad is too stubborn to concede defeat. You should just quit.”

      “Oh yeah, and do what?”

      “Same thing you’re doing now, only without the expense of your sanity and dignity.” She bobbed her head towards Conn. “Look at him. You’re rotting your insides with worry and he’s eating pie.”

      As though he sensed they were talking about him, Conn looked up, stuffed another forkful into his mouth, and lifted his shoulder. His eyes were back on his paper by the time Darren twisted his neck around.

      “He’s a lunatic.”

      “And I’ll bet the ink won’t even be dry on your resignation before he’s ringing you up. Darren, do you want your kids to look at you the same way you look at Dad? Like you’re an asshole?”

      “Gwen, shut up. I can’t think about this right now.”

      Darren glued himself to his BlackBerry. She rolled her eyes, sucked down half her cocktail, and tried to remember a time when she’d had a pleasant exchange with any member of her family who was over the age of sixteen. Certainly not with her father, who was always so hell bent on being right that no one else was allowed a word in edgewise. Darren was always too wound up to relax. Her mother and sister-in-law were one in the same, as ambitious about their homemaking skills as their husbands were about their business.

      She didn’t have a thing in common with any of them, not Gwen, who had chosen a degree in the arts over one in business, who taught English part time and managed a small bookstore the rest of the time, who lived in one half of an old house because it was old and beautiful and had a history.

      Who happened to be sleeping with Conn Jamison on a regular basis.

      She drew out her own phone and brought up the instant messenger.

      Nice. D pissing his pants now. You ruined my lunch, asshole, she typed.

      On the other side of the restaurant Conn jumped as his phone buzzed. He didn’t smile but she saw his nostrils flare and his mouth tighten as he suppressed a laugh. He gestured to the waitress and handed her a twenty.

      As he was shrugging back into his coat he winked at Gwen.

      “You can come up for air now,” she said to her brother. “He’s leaving.”

      She spoke too soon. Halfway across the dining room Conn’s smile surfaced as another man approached him. Gerrick Adams, who would be batting for Leeward properties in the negotiations with MacDonald Development Corp., laughed and embraced his old friend. The blood drained from Darren’s face.

      She sighed, feeling just a little sympathy. “I’d better get going.”

      While she knew that the purchase of The Cavendish was going to end very badly, she was nonetheless rooting for Darren. She’d been in his shoes before--she knew he wanted to branch out on his own but he couldn’t do it with his tail between his legs. He wanted to be able to stick his middle finger to their father and say “Screw you. I don’t need your crap. Look at what I’ve done.” Pulling this off might give Darren that boost.

      Then again, she was also rooting for Conn to swoop in and sink the whole deal. He wanted the land for the same reason three quarters of the city didn’t want MacDonald to have it: he wanted to build a moderately sized complex that would integrate into the existing cultural background of the waterfront: a series of specialty shops that would not only appeal to the tourists but to the population as a whole. He’d already made a mint by putting in a comedy club at one of his hotels and had found a use for an old industrial property by putting in a drive-in movie theatre. Even Gwen had thought that was a shitty idea but damn it, it had worked.

      Conn wanted The Cavendish as much as her father and brother but he wasn’t stupid enough to pay more than he thought it was worth. He was going to sit back and watch MacDonald Developments shoot themselves in the ass and then he would swoop in.

      In the meantime, he was going to psych Darren out as much as he could. For fun.

      Darren barely registered her goodbye as he kept one eye on Conn and Gerrick Adams, As Gwen passed she shot Conn a look that could have meant, later but was equally effective as you conniving prick.

      He held onto her gaze for just a moment, long enough for her to discern his amusement, and with a grin turned his back on her.

      ****

      He arrived not long after the sun went down. In the first few months of their affair he’d park a few blocks away until she reminded him that her family had not once set foot in her apartment and would only drive through her neighbourhood if traffic was rerouted, and so now he used the narrow driveway neither she nor her downstairs neighbor used.

      Conn hated this apartment. The flat was stuffy. The windows were too small and so rarely did a breeze blow through the windows she only ever opened them a crack. The refrigerator made an irritating grinding sound whenever the motor came on. The prattle from the street below made it seem as though the building was always swarming with people.

      The place was a dive but, like Conn, she found the bohemian clutter erotic. The streamlined minimalism of Conn’s condo couldn’t match the passionate personality of this place. His platform bed had no rungs to grasp when she worked to match his rhythm and his furniture was arranged in such way that she couldn’t spy their bodies writhing together the way she could in the antique mirror that hung over her dresser. Her old bed whined in tune with his every thrust as he pumped into her and the amber glow of the streetlights illuminated his hands roaming over her sweaty body.

      The only thing she loved, truly loved about Conn’s flat was the shower. It was a concrete monstrosity, huge and impersonal, but she loved it when he fucked her in there. She could spend hours with the hot water raining down on her while his fingers kept her coming. It was where taboo was broken, where he pounded into her and said things to her that would make her blush and turn her face away in any other setting.

      Here, at her apartment, there was a tempo. He was the unfamiliar, shadowy lover she invited into her private sanctuary. What was charming during the day turned sultry at night, and Gwen couldn’t bear the thought of letting him leave in the early morning hours.

      When he’d called to make the date he’d argued that his place was closer, that he had central air, that he loved the way his bed smelled of her long after she’d gone. He renewed his arguments after he’d let himself in.

      Gwen simply laughed. She ran her hand over his belly and cupped the bulge jutting out from his groin. “But it’s mine.”

      “It’s a shithole,” he countered, then went silent as she skimmed her tongue over his bottom lip. He groaned, his admittance of defeat when she molded her palm to the shape of his cock, and followed her to the bedroom.

      Layer by layer, she unveiled his gloriously toned body. She envied his discipline. He loved his sweets but he could afford to indulge since he rose at five o’clock every morning to hit the gym. She buried her face in his chest and drew a deep breath. There was a hint of spearmint soap still lingering on his warm skin.

      “Take your clothes off, baby,” he whispered into her hair and ran his hands over her ass.

      Gwen lifted her head and grinned, then pushed him back on the bed. He laid flat, arms spread over his head, a smile splitting his mouth as Gwen stood before him and peeled away her clothes. When she had finished she placed her hands on his knees and parted his legs. She knelt between and grasped his cock beneath the smooth, dark crown and used her thumb to rub the tip. A drop of cloudy fluid oozed from the slit and she smeared it around the circumference of the head.

      Conn’s chest pulsed with every sharp intake of breath as she squeezed down upon him. She loved playing with his cock. It always took her back to when she’d finally let him win his chase. They’d shared a box at the local auditorium during a concert, both guests of a mutual friend. Afterwards, in the parking garage after everyone else had left, she’d unzipped his jeans and worked the length of his cock until he came, leaving thick dollops of milky semen on the steering wheel.

        Her clit throbbed as this memory and a dozen more invaded her head space. She bent over him. His abs clenched when her hair brushed his skin. He held her gaze, his smile fading as she brushed her mouth across the head, coating her lips.

      “I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he whispered, and then he moaned as she cradled the tip in her palm and ran her tongue along the smooth underside. She watched him closely as she puckered her lips around the seam that bisected the crown.

      Conn’s entire body vibrated as she sucked the hot, hard head like a lollipop. His eyes remained upon her, veiled by thick, dark lashes. Under such unbroken scrutiny Gwen’s arousal mounted. She longed to reach between her legs and flick her middle finger over her clit, to build the pace of her own climax as she brought him to his, but she knew that if she waited Conn would get her off better than she even could on her own.

      She ran her hand along the shaft to the base and back up again. His cock twitched and he closed his eyes as he lifted his hips in time with the firm, steady piston-motion of her hand.

      The ache between her legs swelled. An agonizing throb skittered along her drenched pussy.

      “Baby … Gwen, baby.” He cupped the back of her head and dug the tips of his fingers into her scalp.

      Gwen whimpered with need and swallowed him as deep as she could. His cock continued to fill out in her mouth as she gorged herself on him. The pressure of his fingers increased. He bucked against the mattress until he took the momentum away from her and fucked her mouth.

      As badly as she wanted to take him to the end, as bad as she wanted him spurting over her tongue and down her throat, she had to have him inside of her. She withstood as long as she could. She rose up and reached past him for the condom she’d left on her night table, then tore into the wrapping and placed the latex disc at the tip. Conn unfurled it with a snap and opened his arms to her.

      Shaking in her excitement, Gwen straddled his thighs and slid along his dick, her moans escalating with every inch that rubbed against the inner wall of her pussy.

      Conn went lax beneath her, letting her set the pace as she bobbed steadily up and down over his cock. He slid his hands over her ribcage and cupped her breasts, lifting and squeezing, pinching harder until the sting raced through her whole body and she clenched around his dick. With a droopy grin he rested them at the small of her back to support her when she leaned back and grasped his ankles.

      Gwen pushed with her knees, rising over him until only the head remained corked in the mouth of her cunt. With each pass over her g-spot a skirl of heat went through her belly and spread outward. She moaned and hung her head back, digging her nails into his muscled thighs.

      She heard the buzz of his phone and looked down through the valley between her breasts at him. To her relief, he hadn’t noticed. He would reason with her, say that he had to take it, but as long as it went unnoticed he was hers.

      To keep his attention she shifted, giving him all her weight to support in his strong hands, and slipped her hand past her abdomen to tease the hard little nub that protruded from its slick hood.

      From beneath his heavy lids he watched her fingertip circle her clitoris and he wet his lips. Her whimper was for his benefit, a desperate, pleading sound that begged for his help.

      Conn heaved upwards. He threw her back on the bed and settled between her legs. Two fingers kept her exposed while his thumb rolled over her clit, tentative at first and then faster until she threw her head back and cried out.

      “Hold your pussy lips open for me, baby,” he whispered, his tone soft and commanding.

      Gwen drew up her legs and used both hands to spread and pull back the slippery pink flesh. Her juices ran from her cleft and onto his tongue before he licked upwards. Two hands rested on her inner thighs and he wriggled the tip of his tongue around her clit before closing his mouth over her completely.

      She was overflowing. Her abs screamed from the tension that centered there and a sweat began between her shoulder blades as she wriggled in cadence with his tongue. She was so slippery and her fingers were shaking--it was impossible to hold the pose he had demanded. She raised her knees, cradled his head between them, and closed her fist in the thick, gelled hair at the top of his head.

      Conn’s technique was impeccable. He hummed to himself as played with her clit, rolling the erect bead with the tip of his tongue. She heard his pager again but she didn’t worry. He was engrossed in his task.

      The first pulsation scrolled along her pussy and she pushed at the top of his head. Conn was unmovable. She always tried to push him off just as she was on the verge of coming and he was ready for it. He pressed down on her thighs with his arms and took over the burden of keeping her exposed.

      Gwen jerked and squirmed, digging her nails into his broad shoulders as she fought against the tempest that surrounded her. “Fuck me with your fingers, Conn.”

      Somehow she managed to force the words out and then gasped when he filled her with two long, thick fingers. She pushed the tip of her tongue against the roof of her mouth to keep from screaming as a powerful spasm rocketed through her. She pushed up onto her shoulders and bucked her hips in tune with his thrusts as the last and most powerful contractions forced a scream from the back of her throat.

      She went limp, her lungs burning and her head fuzzy as he continued to lick her, moving lower to tongue-fuck her until she was sure she couldn’t get any wetter.

      Breathless, gasping, she scratched her nails into the top of his head. “Fuck me.”

      He rose up, one hand grasping his sheathed dick. His biceps rippled beneath the skin as he pumped his shaft.

      Gwen reached for him. “Let me do that.”

      He shook his head, letting his natural curls fall over his brow. “I’m too fucking horny to play right now, Gwen.”

      She grasped him around the waist and drew her legs up, then gasped as he filled her. The relic of a bed squealed with each furious thrust, a metallic outcry no match for the hard, wet slap of his body pounding hers.

      “Come on, Conn,” she whispered. She locked her hands behind his damp neck. “Hard, like that.”

      In the dim light she watched his focus become surreal. A grimace took over his face, feral to the core. He rose up to grasp the brass headboard, pushing and pulling to fill her. She bit down hard on her bottom lip with his final rough thrusts and locked her ankles at the small of his back, pushing down with her heels.

      Conn gasped and his whole body went stiff as he emptied his load against the thin barrier between them. A curse began on his lips but was never finished. Her body welcomed him when he sank down.

      “God, honey,” he muttered against the moist hollow of her neck.

      “I know.” She sighed and turned her face to his when his mouth sought hers. She curled her tongue around his, sweeping gently, her resolve unbroken by the hum of his cell. He lifted his head and she clapped her hands over his ears.

      “Don’t. Not yet. Whatever it is can wait.”

      He rolled away from her. “It’s just e-mail. I don’t have to answer.”

      Gwen sighed as she watched him dig into his jeans. He blinked at the screen, rubbed his eyes, and then peered at it again.

      A smile split his face and he flopped back with a laugh. “The deal went down the toilet. The Cavendish is mine. Your brother quit and immediately left a message for me at the office”

      “Are you going to make him an offer?”

      “He’s damaged goods. He’s going to make me an offer. I’ll let him hang for a few days.”

      “You sneaky bastard,” she said, but it was with a laugh. “So you could say that fine bout of fucking we just did was celebratory?”

      He smirked at her and gave her a hard smack on the ass as she rolled onto her stomach. “That was just for fun. We can get to the celebrating later.”