Extreme Close-Up (Perspectives Book 1) (5 page)

She took a ticket and pulled into the law office lot. Parking her eight year-old Honda between two sleek European sports cars, she thought about mid-life crises. Maybe she was having one. Too bad hers didn’t include a hot new car.

Her cameras and other equipment made the walk across the parking lot difficult. She had to press the handicap access button with her foot to open the door to the building. A young woman who looked to be somebody’s slutty secretary sneered as she walked by. Lisa knew she looked ridiculous carrying all her gear, but there was no room in her tight budget for decent wheeled cases.

As she struggled to get everything clear of the elevator doors before they closed, a silver-haired man was kind enough to hold the “open” button and ask for her floor. “Looks like we’re going to the same place,” he said.

She smiled politely and adjusted her gear so it cut into a different spot on her shoulder.

“You must be the photographer.” He was in his mid-40s, Lisa figured, and classically handsome, like Cary Grant or another of those old clean-cut Hollywood actors her grandma used to get all dreamy about.

“What was your first clue?” She chuckled.

“The cameras tipped me off,” he shrugged a pin-striped shoulder. “But I’m sleuthy like that.”

She smiled. “I’m Lisa Taylor. I’d shake your hand, but...”

“Your hands are full. I’m Thomas Porter, senior partner.”

“Then I’ll be shooting you today.”

“With a camera, I hope,” he said with a grin female jurors probably found charming. The car stopped and he held the doors open for her. “We’ve reserved a conference room for your use. It’s right this way.”

Lisa found it strange and a little rude that he didn’t offer to help carry her things. Of course, he was a lawyer -- maybe he was simply being cautious, thinking about liability if any of her expensive equipment were to be damaged.

Walking behind the handsome, successful and age-appropriate man, she noticed he didn’t wear a wedding ring. She checked out the rest of him because she felt she should, but there was no telling what kind of body he did or didn’t have under all that custom tailored gray wool. Comparisons to Braden were inevitable, but she needed to push all thoughts of him out of her mind and focus on the work.

They arrived at the designated conference room, and she set down her gear with relief. “This is perfect, thank you.”

“My pleasure. I’ll see you soon, Lisa.” He nodded with a small smile and walked away.

Christ.
Fantastic choice of words.
She sucked in a deep breath as her last moments with Braden came rushing back, muddling her mind and dampening her panties.

Did she just need to get laid, or did she specifically need
him
? She made herself save that riddle for later, so she could think about what she was doing while setting up the backdrop and lighting. Between having her rates cut on catalogue work, and the bills that were getting the best of her, this job was too important to fuck up.

There were twelve partners at Chandler & Simmons, P.A., the law firm Natalie’s father had co-founded. Lisa had met Mr. Simmons a couple times and thought he was kind of a jerk, but that was probably due to the tremendous stick up his ass. It annoyed Lisa to no end that Natalie worked so hard and was the smartest person Lisa knew, but they hadn’t made her a partner, yet. Even worse was the way Natalie’s dad dangled her potential partnership like a carrot, and she kept pushing harder and harder to reach it.

Mr. Simmons’ executive assistant had done her best to schedule the partners’ photography sessions around their various meetings and court appearances. With twelve sittings, it would’ve been a long day even if nobody’s schedule changed, but of course there were glitches. Lisa was able to stay focused while working with each of the partners. She had to be fully present in the moment to get the lighting just right, and to coax natural smiles out of some flat personalities and busy curmudgeons. Between sittings, though, sometimes she had to wait a while. At those times, it was nearly impossible to keep Braden out of her head.

When Natalie joined her in the conference room for a quick lunch, Lisa asked about the partners she’d photographed and those she had yet to meet. This strategy worked to keep the conversation off the topic of Braden, as well as to provide some interesting backstory and a few laughs.

“Who’s coming in next?”

Lisa checked her list. “Margaret Byington, then Thomas Porter. Oh yeah, he’s the one I met in the elevator.”

Natalie double-checked that the door was closed, then leaned in. “Thomas is the office hottie. The support staff swoons en masse when he walks by.”

“He’s nice-looking, but ‘hottie’ seems a little extreme,” Lisa laughed.

“Compared to the rest of the yahoos around here?”

Lisa conceded the point with a grin and a nod. “What’s his story? I think he was flirting with me this morning.”

“I’m sure he was. As of about six months ago, he’s single again. Again.”

“Huh?”

“His second marriage lasted like a year and a half. The wife was a shrew. But he’s a decent guy, has a few kids with wife number one.” Natalie studied her. “So... if he was flirting, would you be interested?”

“I dunno. Maybe. I think I ought to be,” she shrugged.

A short while later, Lisa easily moved men to the back of her mind, as photographing Margaret Byington required her absolute, complete attention. The woman couldn’t have been more than forty, but she dressed like a schoolmarm and carried herself like an octogenarian. Actually, Lisa’s grandmother had more life in her at age ninety than the stodgy Ms. Byington. If this was the kind of woman who made partner at Chandler & Simmons, P.A., it was no wonder Natalie was still only an associate.

“If you could tip your chin a little to your left... good. Right there. Now smile...”

“This is a professional portrait. I wouldn’t want to look glib.”

“You won’t look glib. I promise.” Lisa’s camera whirred as she finally coaxed a lukewarm smile out of Ms. Byington. The woman looked like she should smell of moth balls, but at least her portrait wouldn’t do the same.

Between sittings, her phone buzzed with a text from Braden.
RU home? I just picked up a new air filter.

She responded:
You’re so sweet, but I’m on an all-day shoot...

Do you still keep that key under the flower pot?

Shit. Was there anything embarrassing lying around? She hadn’t left her vibrator on the nightstand, had she? No, she was sure it was in the drawer. She tapped out:
Yes, but you don’t have to make a special trip for that!

I live around the corner, remember? I’ll go take care of it.

Thanks so much!!!

My pleasure, Lisa.
;-)

His texted wink made her stomach flip as if it were the real thing. Jesus. Nat was right; she really did need to get out more.

She tucked the phone away right as Thomas Porter leaned in with his perfect head of silver hair and his straight, white smile. “Are you ready for me?”

“I sure am.” If he noticed her flushed cheeks, she hoped he was over-confident enough to assume he had caused them. “C’mon in and take the hot seat.”

As expected, he was an easy subject to photograph. He knew, either by instinct or practice, which was his good side and how to angle his shoulders. His blue-gray eyes squinted just the right amount to warm his “trust me” smile.

“That’ll do it.” She stepped back from her camera and grinned, “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

“Guilty.” He chuckled and stood. “You know, Lisa, Natalie showed me your portfolio, and I must say I was impressed by your work. I plan to order a few prints for my office.”

“Thank you, Mr. Porter.”

“It’s Thomas. And I’d like to take you to dinner sometime.”

She smiled. “I’d like that, too.” What’s not to like? He was handsome and charming, and she wouldn’t be mortified if anyone saw them together. They would probably have a good time, and she was sure kissing him would be... nice.

When she finally got home that evening, it was after seven. Thoughts of Thomas evaporated as she wandered down the hall to the air vent, expecting to feel some remnant of Braden’s having been there earlier. There was a small fluff of lint on the floor, but the lingering scent of woodsy soap was only in her head.

She looked around as if she were Braden, alone in her house. Did he simply come in through the kitchen, make a beeline for the air vent, swap the new filter for the old, and then go back out the way he came? Or was he curious enough to explore a little? Before he left, did he set the old filter on the floor, then go in search of her bedroom? Would he have stood in the doorway or boldly entered? She didn’t think he’d be so disrespectful as to look in her drawers, but would he have sniffed the perfume on her dresser, or perused the books on her nightstand? Was her bedspread still smooth from when she made it that morning, or had Braden rumpled it that afternoon then smoothed it out again before he left?

As she heated some soup for dinner, she tried to think about what it would be like to date Thomas, but her stubborn mind kept jumping back to Braden. She couldn’t help imagining him in her room when she wasn’t home... lying on her bed, sliding his hand under his waistband...

It turned her on to think about it.

AS SHE GOT ready for bed that night, Lisa didn’t bother to put on a night shirt. She was so achy with need, there was no question she would be strumming herself to sleep. The cool sheets felt wonderful on her hot skin.
Had she really not slept nude since her honeymoon with Vance? Why the hell not?

She closed her eyes and brushed her fingers across her cheek, over her lips, remembering Braden’s kiss. Skimming her hands over her breasts, she pretended he was touching her. From her swollen breasts to her pulsing clit, her entire body responded more to the Braden of her imagination than it ever had to Vance. Or anyone else, for that matter. But she was too busy to think about that right now.

As if he were reading her mind, her phone buzzed with a text.
Hi.

She pressed her thighs together and responded:
Hi.

I want to come over.

His words echoed in her head while the angel and devil on her shoulders battled it out. The angel won, barely:
It’s late. I’m in bed.

Even better. ;-) Did I wake you?

No.

Did I... interrupt you?

Lisa sucked in a breath. What the hell? Did he plant a spy cam in her room when he was there earlier? While she debated the intelligence of an honest reply, the devil on her shoulder replied:
Yes.

Do you mind?

No.

He didn’t respond for a minute, but then her phone pinged his request for video chat. Her heart pounded as she stared at it. Before she could change her mind, she rejected the request.

Her pussy clenched when he texted:
We’re doing the same thing, Lisa.

Then he added:
I’m already thinking about you, but this would be much more interesting if we could see each other.

The devil on her shoulder strangled the angel and tossed her into oblivion.

Lisa heard herself make a little sound of longing as she tapped out:
Ok.

This time, when he requested a video chat, she tugged the sheet up over her breasts, positioned the phone on the nightstand, and accepted.

“Hi again,” he said with the sexiest grin ever. He was lying on his left side, propped on his elbow. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, but Lisa could only see about halfway down his abs. That was a relief, as she wasn’t prepared to see all of him just yet. It was enough that his right bicep was flexing in a slow rhythm that hinted at what the rest of that arm was doing off-screen.

“Hi again.” Her phone slipped and she repositioned it against the lamp. “Sorry. I don’t have a stand and my lighting sucks.”

“You look beautiful. What little I can see of you, anyway.”

Her fist had a white-knuckled grip on the sheet above her breasts. “This will probably not come as a surprise, but I’ve never done this before.”

“You’ve never masturbated?”

She chuckled. “No, I’ve done that.”

His pupils overtook his blue-green irises. “No one else has ever watched you?”

“No one else has ever asked.” She took a deep breath and let go of the sheet. It caught on her hardened nipples, then slid to her waist.

“God, you’re gorgeous.” With the way his voice caught in his throat when he said that, she could almost believe it. She watched his reaction as she palmed her breasts, pushed them up and together, teased and pinched her nipples.

His right bicep tightened and held a moment. “Put your hand in your panties,” he rasped.

“I’m not wearing any.”

“
Fuck
. Touch your pussy for me. Please.”

She held his eyes and skimmed her hand down her belly and beneath the sheet. Her soft moan told him when her fingers had arrived.

He licked his lips. “Tell me how it feels.”

This was all so far out of her comfort zone, she may as well have been attending via satellite. “It feels good,” she attempted.

“You can do better than that,” he chided.

“Jesus,” she gasped, and slid her fingers over and around her clit. “Hot. Swollen. Wet. I’m fucking drenched.”

His face tightened and his bicep stilled once more. “Show me.”

Her fingers stopped. “Why can’t this be enough?”

“Because I want to see how you touch yourself, so we can both imagine my tongue on you.”

The words nearly took her over the edge. She pushed the sheet away and slid across the bed, letting him see every inch of her. His eyes followed her middle finger as it disappeared between puffy pink lips, then came back glistening to tease her engorged clit.

“Braden.” It was only a whisper, but it got his attention. “Let me see you.”

His brows furrowed. “
God, Lisa
,” he ground out as he briefly disappeared from view. Then she saw him. All of him. The beautiful face. The hard chest. The ridged abs and the V-cuts. One muscular arm bent behind his head, the other extended down to where his hand moved slowly from root to tip of a penis as perfectly-sculpted as the rest of him.

Lisa strummed with more purpose. Her other hand skimmed over her breasts, teasing one hard nipple, then the other. Braden watched her intently, his fist matching tempo with her fingers. The head of his cock was flushed and swollen, and Lisa licked her lips, wishing it was disappearing into her mouth, rather than his hand.

At the thought, she ground her impossibly-hard clit against her palm, and moaned a loud, wet release. A heartbeat later, Braden’s fist tightened as thick ropes of semen shot onto his chest.