Thank you for stopping by. This is a short story; it was the first in my "Encounters" series...
I hope you enjoy reading my story. It is now complete.
If you'd like to start at the begining, you can click here. Just keep clicking on "Newer Post" at the bottom of each chapter to progress through the story.
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Faithfully,
Hathor
TheGoddessHathor@gmail.com
Welcome!
Epilogue
It’s been 5 years since that night in my game room. 5 years of wondering what would have happened if that game had ended differently. It’s been a wild time. The shop has never been busier. The guys come in every couple of months, when they can, and the place goes nuts. In the beginning, we had to shut down for the day, just so they could get done without being mobbed. The first time they came in, I caught one of the girls taking a lock of hair from the floor. They’re pretty used to it now. I will say: turnover in the salon is at an all-time low.
I still do Jon’s hair personally. He doesn’t want anyone else, and frankly, that’s fine by me. Believe me, it’s no hardship working with that glorious hair. He still lets me do what I want with it, so it’s been pretty much the same since the first time I cut it. There’s no sense in changing something that isn’t broken, right?
In the past five years, I’ve been so many places, seen so many things, it’s hard to keep track. I’ve been all over the country and all over the world, and –
What? Did you think I sunk that shot?
I could have.
It would have been the easiest shot in the world to make. I mean I couldn’t have had the balls lined up any better if I had placed them there myself.
I mean, really, our three-year old could have made a shot like that. In fact, she has. She’s quite the little pool shark. She gets that from her Momma. When she was learning, she pouted when things didn’t go her way. Her little blue eyes got dark and crinkly, and her nose wrinkled just a little, and those tiny little frown lines that formed between her fine, light brows? She gets that from her dad.
Chapter 16
“You’re on,” I said. “Some ground rules.”
“Ground rules?” He was smiling at me, happy that he got his way. We’ll see how happy he is when he loses. If I let him lose; I haven’t decided yet.
“Yeah. Keep your hands and your other bits and pieces to yourself. NO distractions.” He laughed at me. “I mean it, Jon,” I said, giving him my very best schoolmarm stare. “If you have to cheat to win, well, then you don’t deserve me.”
“That goes for you, too, you know,” he said, still chuckling.
“I don’t have to resort to such tricks to win. You might.”
“Best of three?” Jon asked.
“You got it, Jersey. “
I broke the set with a might crak! (that’s why I love the 23) and we were off. “Show me what you got,” I taunted. I didn’t even get a shot. He lined up each shot carefully, methodically, and planned where the cue should wind up. With each stroke, he stuck his ass out a little more, and it was all I could do not to pinch it. While I sat there, slack-jawed, he cleared the table. When he straightened after sinking the 8-ball, I shot a look at him as he racked up the balls for game two. He looked quite pleased with himself.
“Nervous, Brooklyn?” He was grinning like the Cheshire cat. God, I couldn’t wait to wipe that shit-eating grin off his face.
“Nah,” I said. “Anyone can clear the table after the break.”
“Oh really?” he said.
“Yes really. Break the balls. Baby.”
Jon lined up his break carefully, and swore when nothing sunk. He stood back to let me take my shots. Wanting to give as good as I got, I leaned over the table deeply, making sure my ass was sticking up a little. I leaned low over the cue, and took a couple of slow strokes before jabbing the cue with my stick. God, it even sounds naughty. I made shot after shot without stopping. I’d played this table for years, and I could get the cue to go anywhere I damn well pleased. When I lined up the 8-ball shot, I looked back over my shoulder at him. I maintained eye contact with him as I stroked with the stick again, sending the 8-ball gently home. He gaped at me. I love it when men think they’re better at something because they’re men. I winked at him and set about racking the balls.
“Last game,” he said. “Remember what happened last time? Get ready to pack.”
“I wouldn’t set about booking my flight just yet,” I countered. I bent down to examine the line up of the cue ball, shifted its position slightly, and let ‘er rip. The break sent one of the two balls in the back corners flying into the corner pocket. That’s my most favorite trick. I can do it every time.
I stood, leaned my cue on the table, and stretched out my arms, linking my fingers and cracking my knuckles. “Don’t you know better than to try to hustle a shark at her own table?” I sunk each of my balls in turn, taking care before each stroke. With every sunken ball, Jon was getting more agitated. I’ll admit, I was too. The 8-ball was all I had left to sink, and I’d win. It was a sweet shot, straight line to the side pocket. One powerful slam of the cue, with just a little backward English, and I’ll have won. A gentle kiss of the cue, and there was the danger it would follow the 8 into the pocket, and I’d lose. Pucker time. What was I going to do?
Did I really want to win this game?
Jon was pacing.
“What’s the matter, baby?” I asked, stopping and straightening up, resting my cue against the table.
“I don’t like to lose,” he said, sulking like a little kid. “Especially when there’s so much at stake.”
“I don’t either,” I countered, “but you haven’t lost yet.”
“True, but it doesn’t look good for me.”
I reached up to kiss him sweetly on the lips. He held me close, and I could see regret and sorrow in his eyes when I finally pulled away.
I grabbed my cue and lined up for the final shot.
Chapter 15
After drying and dressing, we went into the kitchen. We need protein. Massive amounts of protein. And caffeine. Two of my favorite “eens”. Nothing will give you a jolt of energy like a hearty breakfast, so that’s what we had. We made eggs, toast, bacon, sausage, fried potatoes, and damned if we didn’t eat it all. We also went through a pot and a half of coffee before Jon asked,” So, where’s this game room I’ve heard so much about?”
“Stack your dishes in the sink, and follow me,” I said.
I led him back upstairs and down the hall past my bedroom and the rumpled sheets that if it weren’t so gross, I don’t think I’d ever wash again.
We passed through a door at the end of the hall, and Jon stopped, staring. I smiled wide at being able to surprise him. Again. God, a girl could get used to that gobsmacked expression on his gorgeous face. The door opened into the middle of the huge room that sat over the three-car garage below. Directly in front of us was a nine foot pool table; rich mahogany wood with ball-in-claw feet, dark green felt, and an old-fashioned Budweiser pool table light hanging over it. There were eight matching pool hall chairs, covered in heavy burgundy brocade. They were scattered around the pool table, paired up and matched with high tables. A full four feet of wall was taken up with cue racks; full of sticks of different weights, lengths, and colors.
On the near side of the left side of the room was an arcade-quality air hockey table. On the far side, there were dartboards lined up along the wall. The right side of the room was dominated by a full bar, complete with mirrors behind, shelves of liquor, and the smoothest, shiniest expanse of mahogany Jon had ever seen; a perfect match for the pool table. There was a brass foot rail running along the length, and an even dozen burgundy leather-topped stools lined up in front of it.
“This is amazing,” Jon said, just gaping at the room.
“Yeah, I know,” I said immodestly. I am incredibly proud of this room. “It’s my favorite place to be, aside from the salon.”
“I can see why.” He walked over to the bar, and asked a question with his eyes. I nodded, and he raised the hinged section to pass behind. He looked around at the glasses, the beer taps, fountain soda taps, freezers, fridges, touching everything. He’s such a guy.
“So, how does it compare to yours? What am I missing?”
He grinned at me. “It’s very similar to mine, actually.” He looked around more. “You know, you aren’t missing anything.” I ambled up to the bar, and sat on one of the stools. “What can I get you?” he asked, slinging a hand towel over one shoulder. He was too cute.
“Hmmmm. There are so many choices. I could go with the Slippery Nipple, or the Blue Orgasm…” Jon burst out laughing. I smiled and said, “But my all time favorite is Sex on the Beach. I’ll have that.”
Jon set to making my drink, still chuckling at my banter. Glad to know that at four in the morning, he has a sense of humor. I watched in amazement as he tossed and flipped the bottles flamboyantly, as good as any mixologist I’d ever seen. He saw the look on my face and smiled. “I still have a trick or two up my sleeve.”
“I guess you do.” He was at home behind my bar. I still can’t quite believe he’s here in my house, behind my bar, making me a drink. With a flourish, he put a napkin in front of me and centered a perfectly colored drink in front of me. He even garnished it with a slice of orange. He made himself a cosmopolitan, and came out from behind the bar to sit with me. We chatted for a while about the band’s plans for the summer, and Jon told me all sorts of stories about their younger days on the road. They were wild men. He said he’d really enjoyed those days, but if they were still like that today, the pace would probably kill them. They were too old for that shit.
“Not old,” I said, with a twinkle in my eye.
Jon groaned. “Don’t say it; I beg you.”
“Just older,” I said.
“Argh!” Jon dropped his head to the bar and started bouncing it against the wood.
“Jesus!” I said, laughing. I jumped up and pulled him from the stool. “Sorry, sorry, didn’t know that bad jokes made you suicidal.”
“Just the really bad ones,” he said, laughing. “I begged you not to.”
“I know, I know.” I looked at his forehead. There was a little red mark, but that’s it. All I needed was for him to go back to wherever he was going looking like he had been in a fight. That thought sobered me. The night, morning, whatever, was almost over. We’d be each going back to our own lives. My little fantasy was coming to an end. Unless I wanted to give up my shop and follow him.
“What’s the matter, D?” he asked me; concern in his eyes.
“Nothing,” I said, embarrassed at the tears that were forming in my own eyes. I quickly turned away and downed the rest of my drink. “C’mon,” I said, “let me beat the pants of you in a game of 8-ball.” I strode to the cue rack and picked out my favorite; a 23-weight, cherry stick with a hot pink base. “I’ll break.” C’mon, Jon, take the hint. Change the subject. Thankfully, he did.
“Alright,” he said, the playfulness fading from his face. Shit. I went and ruined it. We were having such a good time, too.
Jon selected a cue, racked up the balls, and stepped back to let me break. He stood close behind me, and leaned over my shoulder, whispering in my ear. “You think you can beat me?”
“I know I can,” I shot back.
“Care to make the game interesting?” he said.
“Maybe. What do you have in mind?”
“If you win, I’ll make sure the guys all come to your salon when they’re in town,” he paused.
That sounded good to me. The boost to business once word got out would be huge – and word would get out. Plus, my staff would be beside themselves. What’s the catch? “OK, what do you get if you win? And, that’s a big ‘if’ Jersey.”
Jon laughed. “I get you.”
Gulp. “You’ve already had me. What do you mean?”
“You come with me when we go on tour.” Jesus, he was serious. He took my cue from me, set it down on the table, and took my hand. “I want you with me, Diana. I want to see you there in the audience or in the wings, and know that you’re there for me.” He was squeezing my hand so hard I thought he’d break my fingers. “I want you to travel with me, cuddled up to me in the jet, maybe even joining the mile-high club with me. I want to go back to the thousand nondescript hotel rooms I’ll see with you and have you brighten them up. Consider it a trial – see if you like the pace and the guys before deciding whether to take me up on my offer.” He stared at me. “Well?”
I thought about it for a minute. It really was a win-win for me. It would give me a chance to see if I could still hold on to the salon and manage things without being there. That would make the decision much easier. My clients wouldn’t be too happy; they’re a fiercely loyal bunch. I’d just have to find someone I trust to take care of the place. I could take on the previous owners as partners, even for a short time. Am I really considering this?
Yep I am.
Holy Shit.
Chapter 14
After that, we were spent, literally. We napped again – this time I slept with him. I set an alarm though, so we wouldn’t sleep too long. I didn’t want the entire night to slip away. When the blaring horn of the alarm clock went off, I was momentarily disoriented – it was quite dark and there was a heavy arm draped across my body. It took a minute to extricate myself from his grasp to reach across to turn off the offensive device. Jon grouched into my hair, “What time is it?”
“It’s nearly two,” I said.
“Shit.” He sat up and rubbed a hand roughly over his face and through his hair. “Where’s your bathroom?”
“Across the hall,” I answered,
Jon kissed me and stood. God, he looks good naked, all rumpled with a pillowcase crease on his cheek. Sexier than any man has the right to look – and he doesn’t even have to try. He smiled down at me. “Give me five minutes, then come in after me, okay?”
“Okay,” I said. I wasn’t quite awake yet, and watched the muscles of his legs and ass move as he left the room. I tossed on a light robe and scooted downstairs to use the other bathroom. When I was finishing up, I heard the upstairs toilet flush and the shower start. That’s why he wanted me to give him five minutes. I hurried back upstairs and crept into the bathroom. He didn’t hear me, and I stopped dead in the doorway. Jon had his arms braced against the wall, letting the spray pummel his face. He had his head tipped back, and his eyes closed, and I took another mental snapshot.
Jon sensed me watching him, and said, “Are you just gonna stand there all day and stare at me, Brooklyn, or are you gonna come in and join me?”
“Give me a break, Jersey,” I said. “This is a lot for me to process, you know.”
“Why?”
What? Is he shitting me? “Are you kidding me? You do know who you are, right?”
Jon chuckled. “I thought I was just some guy who needed to lighten up?”
“You are,” I laughed, “but you’re also Mr. Rock Star, and the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, so excuse the hell out of me if I have to pinch myself once in a while.”
“I’ll do that for you, if you’d like,” he said with a leer.
“No, thanks, I can manage.” I shook my head as I dropped my robe to the floor. “Move over and quit hogging all the hot water.” I opened the shower door, but he didn’t move. “What?” I asked.
“Are you sure you won’t come with me?” Jesus, he was serious. “A guy could get used to having you around, and I still have ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred, and ninety-eight more times to make love to you.” I laughed out loud, and he smiled and continued talking. “I meant what I said before you know.”
I shoved him playfully out of my way and stepped into the steamy shower. “Which part did you mean?”
“All of it. I want you around me. I genuinely like you, you’re fun and you make me laugh. You’re funny and bold and beautiful and you have a way with hair, well, I’d be remiss if I didn’t try to get you on my team.”
I looked at him. “I’m glad you phrased it that way, putting the hair skill thing last,” I said. I let out a big sigh. “Look, this is a big decision for me. I’ve owned my own business for years, and it’s hard to give that up. Give me a little time to think about it.”
“But, it’s not a ‘no’ anymore?” God he looked like a little kid asking his mom for a puppy. How could anyone deny this man anything? I guess not too many do. I wrapped my arms around him and gave him a kiss, molding my body to his.
“It’s not a ‘no’.”
We celebrated my non-rejection in grand style (does he ever run out?) and ended up collapsed in an exhausted heap on the shower floor.
Whatever it is you’re thinking? Yep, we did. Twice.
Ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred, and ninety-six to go.
Chapter 13
I threaded my fingers into Jon’s hair and gripped his head with one hand while the other stroked the side of his face lovingly, tenderly. Jon broke the kiss to look at me. He looked into me, actually, and I knew he saw the surrender there. I knew he could see that I was absolutely, irrevocably his for the taking and I didn’t care. If he wanted me, I’d be there. No matter what that may mean.
Jon’s stroking continued, getting faster and harder as he felt me clenching around him. “Stay with me, D,” he said, as he watched my face. He could see that I was on my way to oblivion. He leaned down to kiss me and slowed his pace. I could see the tenuous hold he had on his control. He was as close to losing it as I was, and just for a moment, I saw something other than lust in his eyes. It had to be the situation. Just had to be.
I raised my head to lick his lips, and he captured my tongue in his mouth. He thrust his own tongue into mine, and we dueled. I started slipping over the edge, and locked my ankles around Jon’s waist. I wanted him joining me on the fall. I squeezed around him as hard as I could manage, and pinched his nipples. Hard. Hell, it works for me, why not for him, right? It worked. Jon’s eyes rolled back, and as my vision blurred I felt him explode inside me. I screamed from the sensation, and Jon surfed my waves of pleasure all the way in.
Jon slowly lowered himself onto me, and I held him tightly. His arms snaked under me, and he held me just as tight. He rolled us to the side, slipping from my body, and cradled me to his chest. I could hear his heart, beating fast like a bird’s. I smoothed a hand over his chest, stroking lightly. I felt Jon’s arms start to relax and looked up at him. His eyes were open a little, not much, and they were unfocused – he was drifting off to sleep. I hooked the covers with one foot and dragged them up over us. Jon mumbled, “Thanks my love; just have to rest a minute,” and floated off. OK, it wasn’t a declaration, just an endearment, but I still had a tear in my eye hearing him say “my love” to me that way.
I had that Aerosmith song playing in my head:
Don’t want to close my eyes
Don’t want to fall asleep
‘Cause I’d miss you, baby
And I don’t want to miss a thing.
That summed it up for me. I was not going to miss out on any of this night, even if I had to get out of this bed and brew truck-driver strength coffee and drink the entire pot. I watched him sleep, his face relaxed, fine, light eyelashes against smooth, tanned skin. There was a faint smile on his lips, and I’d like to think he was dreaming about me. I knew he must need the rest, but I couldn’t resist leaning up to kiss him lightly on the lips. He murmured in his sleep and shifted a little, but didn’t wake up. I laid there in the circle of his arms for a long time, wondering when he’d wake up; wondering when I would wake him up. And how. Well, the how was a no-brainer, I guess; it was just when.
Jon moaned something in his sleep, and tightened his arms around me. I kissed him again, and whispered his name. “Jon, are you awake, sweetheart?”
“Mmmm, no,” came the sleepy response, although I could tell that at least one part of him was.
I chuckled. God, he was such a guy. I trailed a hand down to the part of him that was stirring and said, “Well, you just let me know when you are. I’ll find something to do to keep myself occupied.”
Jon laughed a little. “God, sorry, Diana, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Although,” he was rubbing my back lightly now, sending little shocks and shivers through me, “it is very nice waking up with you.”
“Don’t worry about it. It gave me plenty of time to gawk at you.” I was stroking him gently, and he was growing hard. Jon pulled one of my legs up over his hip and brought a hand down to stroke me. His touch was very light, but I was still so electrified from the last time that the sensations were powerful. I could immediately feel the waves building up again.
I stopped my hand’s motion, and pulled Jon toward me with the leg that was looped over his side. He fit into me easily, comfortably, and perfectly. He rolled us so he was on his back, and I sat astride him and, started a slow, sensual roll of my hips that had his eyes closing again, but not in sleep. His head tilted as far back as the pillows would allow, and his lips parted. I moved faster over him, my movements hurried as I approached climax. I wanted to share this with him, to bring him with me over the edge, as he brought me with him earlier.
“Come with me, baby,” I said to him, panting.
And he did.
Chapter 12
I pointed with my free hand, giving him directions to my place. It wasn’t far, and I was tempted to take the long way, to see if I could make him orgasm on the bike. But, I didn’t want to have to explain the accident we’d be sure to have to the insurance company, so I led him on the shortest route to my modest house. Hell, I was so juiced up that the vibrations of the Harley and the closeness of this man to me nearly sent me over the edge. I wanted to get him naked. As soon as possible.
Jon parked the bike in the driveway, and I jumped off. Jon moved little more slowly than I did; I think the tightness of his jeans was making him have trouble moving. He took the helmet off, and shook out his hair. I just stared. I wanted to memorize every second that was ticking by. I didn’t want to forget a thing.
Jon smiled that full-on rock star smile and I sighed. I cocked my head toward the door, and he followed me up the stairs to the porch. As I fit the key into the lock, he fit his body to the back of mine, his erection pressing into the small of my back. He swept my hair to one side and planted delicate kisses along my neck, making me shiver. I leaned back into him, and he wrapped his arms around me and squeezed; one hand reaching up to cup a breast. I looked into his eyes and smiled. He smiled back and kissed me gently.
He kept his hands on me while we crossed the threshold into the house. Jon kicked the door closed behind us and spun me around to kiss me properly. I sighed into his mouth and melted into his body. He scooped me into his arms and held me close. “Which way, Diana?” he asked, his voice a whisper.
“Upstairs, first door on the right,” I answered, my own voice thick with passion. I kicked my shoes off and let them fall to the floor.
I looped my arms around Jon’s neck and rested my head on his shoulder as he carried me up the stairs. He entered my bedroom and stopped a moment to look around. I tried to see it through his eyes. The room was done all in white, from the thick, rich carpet to the walls, curtains, and bedclothes. There were splashes of feminine colors here and there: palest pinks, yellows, and lavenders. Definitely a woman’s room; a girly-woman’s room.
Jon strode to the bed, pulled down the covers, and sat me on its edge. He locked eyes with me as he let my shirt fall from his shoulders. I unzipped the jeans that were threatening to cut off all his circulation, and pushed them toward the floor. I wrapped a hand around him while he toed off his boots and kicked away his clothes, and began to stroke him.
Jon’s breathing was growing heavy. He pushed me gently away, and lifted the hem of the t-shirt up and over my head. My arms got tangled in it, and he left them that way; pushing me to the mattress so my arms stayed tangled together and draped over my head. He trailed his hands lightly from my jaw down to my collarbone, skimming over the tips of my breasts, until they finally reached the button of my jeans. He undid them, and peeled them off me; dropping them over the side of the bed. He scooted me up onto the pillows, and trailed butterfly-soft kisses across my face and neck. I sighed and shifted restlessly on the bed.
He was seducing me, and it was working. I knew I should resist; that this was a one-night thing, but shit, I was on the brink of giving in all the way to the fantasy. And, I was seriously reconsidering his job offer. If these were the perks, damn, it would be worth selling my business for.
“Diana,” he whispered, between kisses. He was working his way to my breasts now.
“What is it, baby,” I answered.
“I want to make love to you.” Kiss. “A thousand times.” Kiss. “A hundred thousand.” Kiss. “I want to learn every inch of your body.” Kiss. “Want to know every spot that will make you scream when I kiss it.”
“That’ll take a long time,” I said, flailing my arms to free them from the t-shirt. I needed to touch him; wanted to believe him.
“That it will,” he said, trailing his tongue down my abdomen and dipping it into my navel.
“Good thing you’re starting now,” I said, finally getting my arms free. I sat up and pulled Jon into the circle of my arms. I held him tightly to me and kissed him deeply. Jon cupped the back of my head and deepened the kiss even more. He lowered me back to the pillows, and without breaking the kiss positioned himself between my legs and thrust into me. He stilled for a moment to give me a chance to adjust and to get himself under control, and then started slowly and steadily stroking in and out of me. His tongue was matching the rhythm and I was lost.
Chapter 11
“Except what?” I asked, though given where his hands were, I had a pretty good idea. My own hands were playing with the sprinkle of chest hair that just intrigued the hell out of me. They trailed down to the waistband of his jeans, and pulled at the zipper.
Jon chuckled. “Tease. You know what.”
“Mmmm, I’m sure I do, but I want to hear the words,” I said, as I latched my mouth to one of his small, brown nipples, and turned his chuckle to a groan.
Jon pulled at my head, and bent slightly to look me dead in the eye. Those gorgeous baby blues were looking straight into my soul, burning me, branding me. “I want you naked under me,” he said. Oh yeah. I’ll be hearing that in my mind for the rest of my life. “I want to spend the night with you,” Jon said, shocking me. That’s not what I expected. “Let me check out your game room. Or come with me back to my apartment. Either one. Not that this isn’t great,” he grinned a slow, sexy smile at me, making my knees weaker than they already were, “but I want to make love to you in a proper bed.”
I looked at him, skepticism apparent in my expression. “You’d trust me to know where you live?”
“Aren’t you the one who said I was a good judge of character?” he challenged right back.
I smiled. “I did at that. OK, Rock Star, you’re on.” I licked his lips, took a step back, bent to pick up my jeans, and stepped into them. I tossed Jon my discarded shirt; I wasn’t ready to give him back his t-shirt just yet. He put it on without so much as a raised eyebrow, and left it unbuttoned – it looked white against his tanned skin. God, he was just beautiful.
Donning my shoes, I reached into a locker to grab my bag and dug out my keys. “I just have to lock up, so anytime you’re ready…”
“Darlin’,” he said, pressing his erection into me, “I’ve been ready for quite some time. Let’s get out of here.”
He trailed me through the salon as I turned off lights and equipment. When we got to the front desk, and I locked the cash register, Jon grabbed a lollipop from the basket on the counter and asked, “Hey, so how much do I owe you for the cut and the shave?”
I stared at him. “You don’t really think I’m gonna make you pay, do you?”
“Why not?” he asked, as he unwrapped the sucker and put it in his mouth. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from what is mouth was doing. Oh yeah, he asked me a question.
Why not, indeed. I didn’t have a really good answer to give him; it just seemed wrong to take money when he’d already given me something way better than money – I have memories that are going to last me a lifetime. He could sense where my thoughts were turning, and he laughed. “Are you saying you’ve already taken it out in trade, so to speak?”
I chuckled and blushed. “I’m thinking if that were the case, you’ve already paid for a lifetime of free haircuts, for you and your friends.” I shook my head. “Please, let’s just say the first one’s on the house.”
“Alright,” he said, shaking his own head. “You win this one. Let’s go.” He reached a hand out to me, which I took gratefully.
I set the alarm, locked the door, and jumped up to grab the handle on the security grate. Once it was lowered and latched, I turned to find Jon grinning at me. “What?” I asked.
“That was just too cute,” he said, kissing my nose. “I would have reached it for you, you know.’”
“It’s an old habit, now. I’ve been pretty much doing that five nights a week for the last fifteen years,” I smiled. “Thanks anyway. Now, where are you parked? You can follow me to my place.” I wanted to be able to remember him in my space. Wanted to have him in my bed.
“You don’t wanna ride with me?” Jon looked crestfallen, but the twinkle in his eye gave him away.
I had to kiss that fake sad look off his face. God, he’s too much. “Jersey, you know better than that,” I chided. “I’ll ride with you or on you; you’ve gotta know that. I just thought it would be easier if I took my bike. Then you wouldn’t have to bring me back here in the morning.”
“Your bike? Maybe I’ll ride with you.”
“You wanna drive?” I already knew the answer to this question – the look in his face said it all. I laughed at him and tossed him my key. “C’mon, follow me.”
Around the side of the building was a locked lot. I undid the padlock, and motioned him inside. There, a lonely Harley stood, bathed in the soft light of the moon. I swear, Jon gasped like he’d never seen a bike before. “This is yours?”
“Is that so hard to believe?” I asked, trailing my hands across the beautiful machine. I loved this Harley almost as much as I loved my job.
“It just seems like a lot of bike for such a bitty thing like you,” he said.
I laughed, and held my hand out for the key. “Gimme my key back. I’ll show you just how well I can handle something big and powerful.” I arched an eyebrow at him, mimicking his expression almost perfectly.
“Shit, no way, darlin’,” he said laughing. “You drive us back. I’m driving now.”
He took the helmet off the handlebars and strapped it on. God it made him look dangerous. All you could see were those blue, blue eyes peering out through the slot in the mask.
He threw a leg over the bike, and damn, what it did for his ass is just – well – words fail me. I climbed up behind him and plastered myself to him wrapping my arms around his waist. I let one hand dip into the waistband of his pants, and rest on the cock head that was threatening to poke out. Jon hissed, but otherwise didn’t seem to mind. I let my nail score gently back and forth across the tip of him.
He started the bike and with a full-bodied, throaty roar, we were off.
Chapter 10
Jon eased back into my chair, his eyes intent on mine. “Finish your story while you shave me,” he said, eyes twinkling. “You were telling me how you were just the ticket to put fun back in this new guy’s life. I’d love to hear just how you propose to do that.”
“That’s not exactly what I said, and you know it.” I gave him my sternest look. “Now, no more talking,” I said, “unless you’d like me to slit your throat – accidentally of course.” I held up the razor. It did look menacing. I made a show of swiping the blade along the strop, back and forth, probably more times than was necessary. Jon shut his mouth and leaned back in the chair, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. Usually, I raise the chair and lean the man back to shave him, but not today. I wanted to be able to look into his eyes. Giving a guy a shave can be a very sensual activity. Try it sometime. I lowered the chair all the way down, and wheeled over a stool for myself.
I handed Jon the hot towel, and he applied it to his face, never taking his eyes from me. I took the opportunity to swish the soft brush through the warmed shaving foam, and when Jon was done, I aped tucking my lips in, and Jon copied me. I gently brushed the shaving cream across his face, from his high cheekbones down under his chin. I took the towel from him and laid it across my lap, and leaned in to start shaving.
“Just relax, Jersey,” I said to him. “This won’t hurt a bit.” As I scraped the razor across Jon’s left cheek, I started talking to him in a low voice. I wiped the razor on the towel on my lap, and picked up my story.
“So, this guy,” I said, keeping my eyes on the blade, while Jon’s eyes stayed on me. “This guy’s job makes it incredibly difficult to be able to just relax. He pretty much needs to always be ‘on’, if you know what I mean. In my opinion, he needs some off time.” Scrape, wipe. “That’s where I come in. I won’t say I’m not impressed by his job, because I am. But…” Scrape, wipe. “But I can see past the job, and once you do? Well, he’s just a guy,” I stopped to look dead into his blue, blue eyes and smiled my sweetest, most innocent smile. Shit, I deserved an Emmy for that. I told him, “I know how to have fun with a guy.”
Jon’s eyes widened at that. I paused for dramatic effect, congratulating myself for shocking him. I waited another minute. Scrape, wipe. Then, I relented and explained, “I can do most of the things that guys find relaxing.” I gave him a pointed look, daring him to make a comment about our earlier, uh, activities. “I learned to shoot pool better than any shark you’ve ever met. I can throw darts. I’m banned from the local poker games because I can and will bluff you out of your underwear. I know all the stats on the Giants and the Yankees, and can talk sports until the cows come home. I ride a Harley. I can out-drink men twice my size. And man, can I ever dance.”
I smiled as Jon realized I wasn’t talking about being a slut. Told you I wasn’t. Scrape, wipe. I put a finger under Jon’s nose, and lifted slightly, so he’d have to expose his throat to me. Scrape, wipe. One more pass of the razor, and this side was done. I lowered his head, made a show of wiping his cheek with the clean side of the towel, and ran the back of my hand over it. “Mmmmm. Very smooth.” I gave him a little kiss, and wheeled my stool behind the chair and over to his other side. Jon watched me the entire time in the mirror.
“So, where was I? Oh yeah, dancing.” Scrape, wipe. “This new guy, well, he claims he can’t dance, but I’ve watched him when he didn’t know I was looking. He’s got moves that make me wanna get him horizontal.” Scrape, wipe. “And, hey, it’s not just me. My girlfriends have seen him move, too, and they agree with me. But I got to him first. Or, I should say, he came to me. Or in me; take your pick.” I smiled at the slight blush that crept up the shaved side of his face. I chuckled.
“The main problem with his relaxing, as I see it, is that he can never really go anywhere around here without being noticed. That’s OK; I have a game room over my garage that would put most pubs to shame. We can have our fun privately. Or not. Whatever. Doesn’t matter to me.” One final pass of the razor, and I was done. “The main thing is this guy needs to have some fun.” I used the towel to wipe the remaining little straggling bits of shaving cream from his face.
“How do you know he isn’t having any fun?” Jon actually looked like he wanted to hear my opinion.
I thought about how to answer. “Sweetheart, I’ve seen at least a thousand people in my chair over the years. Up close and personal. I spend a lot of time looking at peoples’ faces; into their eyes. I’ve learned how to read expressions, and this guy? Well if I read him right, and I’m pretty sure I did, he has sadness and pain in his gorgeous eyes, and it’s hard to have much fun when there’s all that other.” I shrugged.
Jon was quiet for a minute. Did I go too far? He cleared his throat. “I guess I can see that this guy does need to let go and relax a little. Can he trust you? I mean, you’ve only just met each other. How can he be sure that you’re, you know, what you seem to be?”
I started getting annoyed. Then I realized he was right. We may know each other intimately (for which I will be eternally grateful) and it feels like I’ve known him forever, but really we don’t know each other. “Well, he can either have faith that he’s as good a judge of character as he thinks he is, or he can cut bait.” I busied myself cleaning up my supplies, and stood. “I’ll tell him to his face, I’m not looking for love, or long-term anything. I’m looking for someone to have good, clean – who am I kidding: clean or dirty – fun with. I can always use more friends. And,” I winked at him and wet my lips, “friends with benefits are few and far between for me. He’s one of those, I think.”
With that, I turned to bring my stuff back to the other room. The ball was in his court now; let’s see what he’ll do with it.
I didn’t have that long to wait. Jon followed me into the back room and waited for me to put my things away. When I was done, he took me into his arms and held me close. “It sounds like this guy is pretty lucky to have found someone like you,” he said to me.
“No, baby,” I said smiling. “He’s lucky to have found me period.” I turned serious. “There’s nobody else quite like me. Listen, I meant what I said. I’m not looking for anything from you. I’m content to have some fun, whatever that may be, and I know how to keep my mouth shut if that’s what you need.”
Jon nodded. “Frankly, I don’t really know what I need except,” he dipped his fingers under the hem of the t-shirt and found me wet and waiting.
Chapter 9
“What’s wrong, Diana?” he asked when I didn’t start snipping.
“It’s just,” God, how do I say this without sounding like an idiot? “I’m really nervous about doing your hair.” There, I said it. It wasn’t too hard, I guess.
Jon laughed at that. “Don’t think so hard about it, just do it.”
I closed my eyes and took a steadying breath, trying to get myself under control. When I opened my eyes, I grinned. “OK, here we go.” After that, it was easy. He didn’t wince or otherwise discourage me, so I went with what I liked. I trimmed a little around the front, so it would stay out of his eyes. I thinned out the layers some, and took just a hair (ha ha) off the length in the back, neatening it up. Once I was satisfied, I rubbed a little product into my hands and put it through his hair, standing in front of him to do it. I was in autopilot mode now, moving shanks of hair this way and that, and didn’t notice right away the wide smile on his face.
“What’re you smiling at, Jersey?”
“You are just so, I don’t know, into this,” he teased. “It’s like you’re somewhere else. You don’t even know I’m here.” He sighed. “I don’t think I’m explaining it right.”
“And you make your living with words? Hah,” I teased back at him, whipping the cape from him and exposing that marvelous chest again. I was close to drooling, and nearly forgot what I was going to say. “Of course I’m into this. I’m good at my job, I love it, and it shows.” I considered the half-dressed man in front of me. Really looked into his face, and saw something there. Do I go there? Yep. “Kinda like this guy I met recently.” I dared him to pick up the thread of the conversation.
Jon’s eyes narrowed. “A guy, huh? What’s he like?”
I smiled. “Well, I’ve just met him, so I don’t know him all that well. But, what I gathered so far is that he’s basically a regular guy, funny and cute, with a very visible job that he does exceptionally well. He loves his job, but lets it consume him sometimes. Not that that’s a bad thing,” I hastened to add when small frown lines formed between his eyebrows. “But I think he forgot how to just relax and have fun. That’s why I’m glad I met him when I did.”
“Oh really?” he said, a wary smile on his face.
“Yeah, really.” I started to answer, but picked up the hair dryer instead. The look on his face was priceless. I dried his hair for him, arranging it just so, and doing a damn fine job of it too, I might add. As I was standing behind him, making adjustments, Jon cleared his throat.
“Are you forgetting something?” he asked, clearly waiting for me to continue the explanation I had started.
I smiled at him. “Oh! You came for a shave, too! Hang on a sec.”
Before he could react, I patted his shoulder and went in the back. His chuckles followed me while I went to warm up the shaving cream and to grab a hot towel and my straight razor. I told you I did it the old fashioned way. I actually had a strop tied to my chair that I used when I was feeling dramatic. I think I was feeling dramatic tonight.
“Alright,” I said, as I came out from the back. “Are you ready for – ” I broke off, watching him, and my stomach dropped. He was standing in front of my mirror, turning his head this way and that, trying to look at the cut I gave him. “Is there something, wrong? I can fix whatever it is you don’t like.”
Jon turned quickly; I guess I startled him. “No, Brooklyn, nothing’s wrong at all. I’m just trying to get a good look at your handiwork.” I put down my supplies and handed him a small mirror and turned him by the shoulders so his back was to the big mirror. He nodded at what he saw, sifting his fingers through his hair. Putting the mirror down, he leaned against the counter, crossed is ankles, and crossed his arms across his chest. Kinda wish I had a camera, you know? “You, my dear, have a permanent job with me if you want it,” he said to me. “I mean it. I can’t remember the last time I actually liked the haircut I got.” He smiled. “And the others could use a trim, too; they’re getting pretty scruffy.”
I laughed at that. “Thanks, Jersey, but I like being my own boss.” What? What did I just say? I think I just turned him down. Never thought that would happen – never in a million years. “Tell ya what, though; anytime you want a trim, give me a call. I’ll leave Thursday nights open for you. Hell, I’ll make room for you any damn night of the week.” I considered him for a minute. “The others, well, they’ll have to make appointments. Not everyone gets, um, shall I say special treatment?”
He looked surprised that I turned him down, but smiled at me. “Alright, D, you have yourself a deal. I’ll tell the guys.´ Jesus, he was serious. “Now,” he said, “how’s about that shave?” He opened his arms, inviting me in. “I’m thinking hot lather would be,” he nuzzled my neck and dropped his voice to a husky whisper, “just the thing.” He kissed my neck, nipping at it gently.
Gulp. He’s good at this. “Have a seat, Jon, and I’ll see what I can do.”
Chapter 8
Jon collapsed on top of me, crushing me comfortably under his weight. His slick body, hot from the exertion of the last hour, stuck to me. I giggled, imagining the sucking sound he’d make when he finally peeled himself off of me.
“What are you laughing at, Brooklyn?” Jon sounded a little insecure, and I immediately felt bad, and turned my head to kiss him.
“Nothing at all, Jersey,” I said. “Just thinking – our bodies stuck together like this, well, it’s gonna make a hell of a dirty noise when you get off me.”
Jon laughed then, a laugh tinged with relief. Jesus, he really had a number done on him. He kissed the back of my neck and whispered in my ear, “I guess I’ll have to stay on top of you until we dry.”
“Darlin’,” I said turning back to look into those beautiful eyes, “having you on top of me isn’t a hardship, you know. But,” I winked at him and smiled broadly. “But, I can think of more comfortable options than bent over the arm of a couch.”
Jon raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Is that so? You aren’t done yet?”
“Hey Jersey, didn’t anyone ever tell you that Brooklyn girls are insatiable?” That made him chuckle. God, I loved making him laugh. The genuine happiness in his face makes him just breathtaking. Do you know what I mean? He’s a beautiful specimen of man, but when he smiles a real smile, well, there’s just nothing on God’s green Earth that can compare.
Jon wrapped an arm around my torso, and I angled my head back for a deep kiss. Before I knew it, he had pulled me up, and I was standing in front of him, still plastered to him. He turned me so I was against the wall again and kissed the shit out of me. His hands were buried in my mane of hair, and mine in his. His mouth devoured mine. Our tongues were dueling, teeth were clashing, and we took from each other until we were breathless. Jon broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against mine.
“Diana, darlin’, I’m sorry, but I need a minute.” He was looking a little sheepish and shy and it just melted my heart. He pushed a hand through his hair impatiently.
“Don’t apologize, baby,” I said to him, kissing him gently. “Come with me.”
I took his hand and led him back across the hall to where our clothes were dropped. I snagged his t-shirt and pulled it over my head. God, I hope he doesn’t want it back. It came down to mid-thigh on me, which suited me fine, and I could tell by the look in his eyes that it suited Jon just fine, too. I tossed his jeans to him, which he pulled on but left unsnapped, then led him back out to the salon. Damn, he should always wear just jeans. No shirt, no shoes, no socks, just tight denim, unsnapped so he’s ready for action. Drool.
“Have a seat, Mr. Kidd,” I said, as I gently pushed him into a chair. Jon’s eyes never left mine as I raised my arms to wind my hair back from my face. There was a hunger in them that made me tingle. I had him once again lean back to put his head in the sink. I dispensed with the towel and cape (I couldn’t bear to cover up that chest, not just yet) and turned on the water. This time, I made sure the temperature was perfect, before picking up the sprayer, and managed to wet him down without falling on my ass. When I stretched to the shelf above the sink to pump some shampoo into my hands, the t-shirt pulled tight against my chest, and crept up my legs a little higher, making Jon’s breath hitch. I was enjoying every minute of this.
After rubbing my hands together to make a thick lather, I bent slightly to rub the foam through Jon’s hair. God, the feel of that wet silk in my hands was intoxicating. Jon’s eyes closed, and he groaned as I slowly worked the lather through his hair with strong fingers. My hands still buried in his hair, I leaned down to kiss him sweetly and he smiled at me. Sigh. I rinsed the suds from his hair and put a detangler through it. When he was all rinsed, I told him to sit up, and he surprised me by grabbing me and sitting me across his lap.
Jon gathered me close and whispered to me, “Ready when you are, babe.”
Water droplets trickled down the sides of his face and I got a flash of what he’d look like coming out of the shower. I was more than ready for the next round, but wanted to get through this fantasy before indulging in the next. He leered at me, and I giggled like a teenager and tweaked his nose. “Now, you have to wait for me,” I said. “You don’t understand how long I’ve fantasized about having you in my chair. You are not going to deny me this.” With a smacking kiss on his lips, I hopped off his lap, eyeing the bulge that had, just moments before, been pressing insistently, seductively into me. I reconsidered for a moment, but smiled.
I had all the time in the world.
At the very least, I had twelve hours until we opened shop again.
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