“So, I love you because the entire universe conspired to help me find you.” -Paulo Coelho
Over the next month, Owen and I have dinner together at least three times a week. Kyra is dating Jason, the smooth-talking creep from the office. She flits off nearly every evening and despite longing to have a dinner date with Owen each night, a few nights a week I retreat to my room, draw a bath and relieve myself endlessly. All this time with Owen has my body on fire. Each time he passes through the halls at work I can feel my pussy swell, my tits ache, and suddenly my appetite for orgasms is insatiable. Whenever I make myself come; I pretend it is him making me come. And I believe I will find calm with each release but when I’m done, I only want him more.
We have gotten to know one another quite well in the last month or so. Kyra is so self-absorbed and fixated on Jason that she doesn’t give my growing relationship with her Dad a second thought.
“I knew you guys would be good friends, you have so much in common!” she chirped to me one morning after she saw Owen and I doing the newspaper crossword together.
And nothing indecent had transpired between us, though each time we were together I longed for something to happen. A lingering touch, anything. But he is a complete gentleman and I was beginning to come to terms with the fact that while he did enjoy my company, it was as a houseguest rather than a potential lover.
THIS WEEKEND KYRA was planning to go away with Jason to his lake house but she still was not eager to share the news of her relationship with her father. Instead she had told him she was going with her swim team, a whole group of them for a reunion type trip.
“Do I have to lie?” I said, pull a brush through my long blonde hair. Kyra sat on the edge of my bed, her legs crossed, anxiously shaking her foot. “What if he asks why I’m not joining you?”
“Well, you hate water. And you don’t want to miss work on Friday… That’s not even a lie. You love work,” her eyes were wide with satisfaction at her own plan. I suppose it would work.
“Just hang out with my Dad and if he gets suspicious, text me.”
I smile and nod. Pulling my hair to one side, I braid it quickly and slip into my black pencil skirt and black and white striped top. I had not yet added more office wear to my wardrobe because, instead, with my first pay check, I gave Owen $300 for rent and food. I didn’t know how much was appropriate but I couldn’t let him house and feed me all summer for nothing. He didn’t want to accept it. He let the check stay on the island in the kitchen for a week. Then one morning I noticed it was gone. I bet everyone at the office was tired of me wearing the same clothes but I wasn’t tired of them yet. They still felt luxurious and fancy to me. I slipped on my black heels that Kyra had loaned me and grabbed my phone off the bedside table.
“Come on,” Kyra grabbed my wrist and led me to the door, “let’s get you and Dad out of here so I can go meet Jason!”
I wanted to tell her that I thought the whole thing with Jason would end disastrously but I just couldn’t. And quite honestly, watching her fall and get back up gave me faith that I could eventually date, and maybe fall, too, without it ruining my life. My mom was never good at the getting back up part.
“Dad,” Kyra said casually, pouring coffee into a to-go mug. “I’m not going in today; I’m spending the weekend at the lake with the swim girls.”
Owen, sitting in his usual spot at the island bar, set his coffee and paper down and looked at her. Then he looked over at me, casually sizing me up.
“I take it you’re not going?” he said, tilting his head at me. He wants to know if I’ll be here. My inner voice rains on the thought, quickly. No he doesn’t. He’s just asking.
“Lake, lots of water, can’t swim,” I said teasingly.
The truth was, even if I had been invited to a lake getaway with a bunch of Kyra’s girlfriends and it cost me nothing… well, I wouldn’t want to go. I’d rather read in my little slice of heaven known as my temporary bedroom and know that I was in the same house as Owen, even if we weren’t hanging out.
“Email me all the specifics,” Owen said, sliding a stack of papers into a bag before refilling his coffee.
“Elizabeth, are you ready?”
My heart leaps. He’s just casually accepting that I am going with him to work. The assumption felt good.
“Um, yeah, I think so,” I say, standing from the island and finishing my cup of coffee at world-speed. I could hear my stomach rumbling; I had gotten accustomed to eating breakfast while living in this dream house and now my body didn’t want to go back to my old ways. Marie heard my stomach, I think, and put her hand up in protest towards Owen.
“Mr. Owen,” she said in a calm and firm tone. They exchanged a look, though I can’t put my finger on the meaning of the look, but he retreated to his seat and went back to reading. After a moment, Marie slid me a plate of breakfast; scrambled eggs with that delicious orange sausage-what did she call it? Fresh fruit and half of a bagel, toasted, smothered in fresh strawberry cream cheese. I could feel my grin stretching from ear to ear, my eyes wide with excitement. My stomach rumbled again as I sunk into the barstool and began eating.
“Thank you so much, Marie,” I murmured before delving into the heavenly plate. Everything Marie made was so good. Bacon and eggs, a turkey sandwich, steak and potatoes-everything was absolutely delicious and I tried to not think of how I would eat once the summer was over. Back to vending machine food and old fruit. Sigh.
I took a bite of the sausage and chewed it slowly, savoring every morsel of flavor that it had. I could hear Kyra saying her goodbyes, promising to email plans, and as much as I wanted to hop up and hug her and tell her to have fun and be careful, I couldn’t stop eating. Well, and, I couldn’t be so obvious. A weekend away with your girlfriends doesn’t typically warrant a “good luck and be careful” send-off. With only one friend, even I knew that.
It is when I take my last bite that I realize two things; Owen is watching me eat, again, and Owen is also waiting on me to go. I push the last bite of soft bagel into my mouth, the sweet and rich cream cheese exploding with flavor onto my tongue. I chew quickly and swallow it down.
“Ready,” I say, standing and walking my plate to Marie who is moving from foot to foot at the sink, washing dishes.
“Thank you so much again Marie, it was delicious.” She smiles warmly at me and I realize in this moment just how much I will miss her, not just her cooking.
Too bad summer can’t last forever.
We walk silently to the car and Owen pulls it from the garage using his device, opens my door and closes it for me, before getting in. He puts the vehicle in drive and we’re off, the silent car providing no barrier for our lack of conversation.
“Elizabeth,” his voice is smooth and quiet and he turns to me as he speaks. “Would you like to learn how to swim?” Unexpected.
Maybe he’s thinking I feel left out from Kyra’s weekend lake trip. The thought settles sweetly in my heart as he awaits my response. I give him a small smile. I don’t want him to do anything else for me-he’s already housing and feeding me for an entire summer and I know that my measly $300 is probably barely covering the bottle of wine we split almost every single evening.
“I couldn’t have you do that,” I say, meaning it. “I’m already asking so much of you, asking you to share your house with me and most of the time, you give up your evenings to have dinner with me. It’s too much already. I appreciate it all but I cannot possibly ask you for more.”
His eyes are brewing some darkness I’ve not yet seen. I can’t decipher if he’s angry or irritated but before I can figure it out, he faces forward, watching the black asphalt tug quickly under the car.
“I am not giving up anything when I spend time with you.”
Suddenly I can hear my heart beating in my ears. My skin prickles with goosebumps and I feel my thighs tingly, the flesh between my legs growing hot and achy. It is the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me. Without missing a beat, my inner voice is there to jump in and put a pin in my balloon. He’s a gentleman with manners. That’s all. Well, damn. Though I know I’m flush with excitement and nervousness, I turn to him. His eyes stay on mine for an amount of time that seems dangerous, considering he’s driving in the city.
“And anyway, I’d be reluctant to trust a stranger in the water.” And then he says something that makes me melt.
“I would teach you.”
He looks at me for a split second, and then faces forward again.
Owen in swim trunks, his brawny torso on display for my eyes to eat up, his muscular arms raising to his head while he smooths his chocolate hair, water dripping down his person… my eyelids become heavy with an intoxicating desire to be in a pool with him. The image is so good that I have to work to keep my eyes open. If they close, I’ll slip into a fantasy so deep and so real that release will be my only option for recovery.
“It’s warm today,” he says, pulling into the cement parking garage, the daylight that was once falling upon my thighs now completely evaporated. The car is dark and suddenly all I can smell is his soap, his cologne, his body.
“We can wade in after dinner tonight, if you’d like.”
He pulls into a parking spot and puts his car in park. I am staring at him and he is staring straight forward. I can feel the electricity in the space between us just waiting for a spark to send us into a full-blown fire. My inner voice tries to turn my face away from him, she tries to tell me that he’s again just being nice, but I won’t hear her. I won’t. He’s just now told me that more or less he enjoys having dinner with me and that he wants to swim with me tonight. This is my chance. If I fail spectacularly then I fail. My relationship with Kyra has been the driving force on keeping me away from Owen but with Kyra gone for the weekend, it is quite possibly my only opportunity to see if I’m right… or to find out that my annoying inner voice is going to do the “I told you so” of the century.
“Okay,” I say, and he turns to face me. His lips curl on the edges briefly before he exits the car.
We walk in silence to the building, stand mutely together waiting for the elevator and then, as we approach the place where we usually part ways -he to his big corner office and me to my office near the entry-he stops me, wrapping his hand around my wrist.
“You’ll be safe. And Marie is making something tonight you’re really going to love.”
He smiles and disappears into the crowd of people huddled around a work station.
WILL this work day ever end? Without Kyra’s incessant chatter about Jason, the small office I’m working in seems uncomfortably silent. I sift through Pandora stations off and on all day but can’t find any music that feels right. I tap my foot against the side of the desk anxiously while I input information, the clicking of the keyboard not nearly loud enough to drown out the thoughts I am having about tonight with Owen.
I try to not even imagine him in swim trunks, lowering his masculine form into the infinity pool, the cool blue swallowing him while he coaxes me to him, into his arms. A shiver runs the length of my spine and ends between my legs, in the apex of my desire. I can feel my wetness seeping through my cotton panties and I feel the urge to slip away- a wet spot on my skirt would not the business.
Tucking myself into a white-walled stall, I slide my panties down to my knees without unzipping my skirt and reach down with a handful of toilet paper. My need is endless as I try and wipe away the unending slickness that I am producing. I’ve never been this wet and nothing has even happened. I guess your mind really is a powerful tool.
As I’m disposing of the evidence in the porcelain bowl, inching my panties up my thighs and over the tops of my thigh-high nylons, I hear two women enter. Their designer shoes click against the cool tile floors and halt directly in front of the mirrors positioned above the sinks.
“And then he just said he had plans… again. I don’t know though because I asked his daughter if he was seeing anyone and she said no. I guess I should just take the hint.”
Owen. They are talking about Owen!
The Owen that makes me so wet I’m holed up in a bathroom stall, wiping myself so I don’t ooze onto the office chair.
My Owen.