Jennifer and Rocket (The Princesses of Silicon Valley Book 6) (5 page)

“Do you plan on filling your woods with art?”

“Only to take pictures of my sculptures in a natural setting. This land was perfect for me. It was cheap, private, and close enough to friends and work. I’m a city guy who prefers the peace of living in the country.”

“Why up north? If you’re from LA why didn’t you find land closer to home? I would think there are a lot of programming jobs for artists down in LA.”

Scratching the back of his neck he looks at me then says, “I’ve friends in the area.” He then shrugs before continuing. “I’m close to my folks, but they have boundary issues. I needed miles to keep them in control.”

“That I can relate to, I have three thousand miles to maintain my boundaries. We grew up down the street from my grandparents and around the block from my auntie. Everyone feels they need to share their opinion, everyone is in everyone else’s business. My family is close, but still, I like my privacy.” Looking around the studio I ask, “Do you have any other sculptures?”

“I’ve got a couple over there.” He points to the rectangular mounds covered with tarps. “My mom and dad each have some down at their places. A friend o my dad has one on consignment decorating the garden of his restaurant. There’s a gallery in LA that has one. I’ve actually sold some. Slowly, I’m starting to move commercial.”

Looking at the other side of the barn where he has that funky fireplace, I ask, “Do you cook in here?”

Rocket finds this amusing as he pulls me by my hand over to the fireplace. “This is my forge. Some projects I weld, some projects I need to heat, bend and hammer the metal.” Pointing at the fireplace that is about four feet off the ground with a simple industrial flue, he explains, “This is where I heat the metal.” He has a couple anvils mounted waist high. He walks me over to them and runs his hand over their used, shiny surface. “This is what I pound the heated metal on. Depending on what I’m trying to do with the metal, I either let it naturally cool, or if I need the metal to be denser I quench it.” He tells me as he kicks a large metal bucket.

Jennifer reacted well to my latest piece of work. It’s nerve-racking to show my work to someone new. Will they get it?

Having her in my studio is inspiring; I can see why artists throughout history have had muses. Some women have an energy that’s intoxicating. Jennifer makes me want to create. While showing her around my studio, I get an idea.

“You said you like crafting. Would you want to create something?” I ask.

Her pupil gets big while she gets an excited smile and nods her head, clasping her hands together she says, “What?”

Jennifer cracks me up; she’s my own personal cheerleader. I get off on her energy. Bringing her over to the forge area, I wheel out my cart that has my small farrier forge on it.

“We’ll use this little forge. It will take too long to heat up the big forge.” She looks at me in confusion. I explain, “We can make a knife. Nothing fancy, something simple.” As I turn on the propane I continue, “This forge needs to heat up to over 2,000 degrees. We’ll need to give it a bit of time”

Grabbing a leather apron off the hook for each of us, I place one over her head. Staring at her lips, I wonder if I should skip making the knife and make out with her instead. We’ll have time for that later. She’s still hesitant about me. I need to take my time with this girl. I think she’s worth the effort.

I spin her around and tie the apron in the back. Then I place the safety glasses on her face. “You’ll need to pull your hair back,” I tell her as I look around for some string or a rubber band.

She smiles and then does this twisting thing to her hair as I fantasize what I would like to do with her and that hair.

Stay focused.

I wade through the bins where I store different lengths and types of metal rods and strips of metal. “Here we go.” I say as I pull out some high carbon steel. “This will make a good blade.” With my apron and glasses in place I move to the workbench as I ask, “Have you ever used a table saw before?”

She gets a timid look on her face, backs up a step, and she slowly shakes her head.

“Come over here,” I say as I motion her toward me. Standing behind her I take a deep breath to control myself from the feel of her body against me. I show her how to measure out the length of metal as I place my hand over hers. Together we pull down the arm of the table saw as we cut the metal.

The metal on metal action causes sparks to fly. Jennifer squeals and backs up into me. Then quickly says, “I can do it.” She moves back in, pulls down the arm, and squeals again.

Thankfully, she’s not a giggly girl, something I find annoying. But this squealing of hers, it’s shockingly…hot. Grabbing a couple tongs, I show her how to attach them to the length of metal we just cut. Once the forge is hot enough, I show her how to stick the metal inside.

“Now we need to wait for our metal strips to heat up, we’re looking for the metal to turn yellow,” I explain.

As we wait, I show her how we’re going to hammer one side to create the blade, “We’ll heat the metal, hammer it, then heat and hammer it again until it’s the shape we want.”

The hammer I prefer to use is too heavy for Jennifer, I hand her a couple of lighter hammers. Then I ask her, “How do they feel? Are they too heavy?”

She holds them each in her hand, “How do I know what’s too heavy?”

“Once you start hammering the metal you’ll know what’s too heavy.”

She holds a hammer in each of her hands, weighing them before insecurely lifting her shoulder. “I’ll start with this one,” she says as she hands me the heavier one.

“Let me show you, and then you can do it.” I snatch my tongs out of the forge and place the metal that’s turned yellow onto my anvil. I hold onto the tongs with my left hand while I use the hammer to bang on the hot yellow metal. After the metal starts to cool I place it back in the forge and say to her, “your turn.”

While staying close to Jennifer, I watch her pull out her piece of metal, place it on the forge and start hammering away. She’s such a little thing this is going to take her forever since she doesn’t get much force with any of her strikes. Reminding her to flip the metal so she can give both sides an edge, I watch her slowly starts to create the bowed shape.

“This is exhausting,” she exclaims as she rubs her upper arm. “If this is what you’re spending your days doing, then I know why your arms are so buff.”

I’m hoping that comment is a good sign as I tell her, “Time to put your blade back in the forge.” We then switch positions as we continue to do this for a while.

“We need to true up the blade using the grinding wheel. Afterward, we’ll let the blades anneal, which improves their properties by letting them air cool.”

She nods while watching me walk over to the bench to turn on the grinding wheel. I then look her over, making sure her protection is still on correctly. I wave her over to watch. Leaning into the wheel I work on the edge. As soon as the sparks start to fly Jennifer squeals and backs up.

Damn, that squeal is a direct line to my dick.

Moving out of the way, I pull her in front of me so she can true up her blade. As I wrap myself around her I reassuringly say into her ear, “Slow and steady now.” As I place my hand over hers to help her guide the metal along the wheel.

Not surprisingly, as soon as the first spark flies, she moves back. But since I’m right behind her and real steady, she moves into me. My goal isn’t to seduce her in my studio. But damn, that hot little body against mine turns me on. Without thinking, I take a small step back, wrap my free hand around her stomach and kiss that soft sweet neck that’s been tantalizing me all day.

Over the sound of the wheel, I can hear a small gasp. I simultaneously reach over and turn off the wheel while running kisses up her neck to her ear. Then I take the blade she’s been working with and place it on the bench as I turn her around. We look at each other eyes for a second, though it feels like time has stopped. Her lips are parted and are unbelievably inviting. I reach up and pull her protective eyewear off. I lean down and softly kiss those beautiful pink lips. She giggles, places her hand on my chest, and moves me back. With a serious look on her face, she removes my protective eyewear. As soon as they’re off, I lean down to those lips. Since a light kiss is not doing enough for me, I pull her tight and kiss her so she knows I mean business. I can hear her moan, which causes my dick to twitch. Man, I’d like to take her here, but I’m done with uncomfortable hookups. When I’m finally with Jennifer, it will be in my bed.

Jennifer has been hesitant around me; I can tell she’s keeping me at arm’s length. I find her uncertainty…compelling. It’s a lot more fun to chase after a woman than being chased by them. It sure makes me work on my game.

I lose track of time as we kiss while I use this opportunity to run my hands over all of her. As a sculptor, my hands enjoy feeling her curves. When we finally pull ourselves apart, she has a completely flustered look and swollen lips, which I find way too charming.

She speaks first. Breathlessly asking, “How do we finish…them?”

“The knives?”

She nods as I watch her trying to focus. “I guess you’ll need to come back and visit me again to finish yours. We still need to sharpen the blade and give it a hilt.”

Making sure to turn off my forge and other equipment, I grab a couple of beers from the full-size refrigerator in the barn. Jennifer is still standing where I left her, looking confused. I grab her hand and with a very satisfied feeling, lead her out of the studio. I stop at the picnic table located outside the Winnebago I bought as my home. Placing the beers on the table, I sit down and pull Jennifer onto my lap, open her beer and hand it to her.

She has a sweet shy smile on her face, which has everything to do with that kiss. Clinking our bottles together, I take a sip and run my free hand down her back. She bites her lip and then asks, “How’d you learn to do that?”

“What, kiss or make a knife?” I say enjoying her reaction.

Jennifer gets a surprised look on her face as she stutters, “Um…use a forge, make a knife,” pointing over to my studio she continues, “All of that?”

I find it amusing that she didn’t take the bait. “I spent my childhood following my dad around, he was always building things. In college, I took courses in chemistry, metallurgy, and material science. When I was in college, my dad hooked me up with one of his friends. He had a large commercial welding company. I learned a lot. It also was a great source of summer income. Then again, there was Wyoming.”

“You never wanted to work as an artist for a company?”

“When I finished college the economy was shit, no one was hiring. I didn’t have many choices. I could either get a job using the skills I had or hang out unemployed at my mom's. Needless to say, I chose the job.

She looks at me approvingly as she drinks her beer. “You could have gone to grad school.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t ready for that. Wyoming was good for me; it made me grow up. It taught me the value of hard work and money.”

She nods, but not knowing me then, she doesn’t get where I was and where I am now. With another shy smile she says, “Creating a knife was fun. I love doing crafty things. I never thought of industrial tools as being crafty. But it was as much fun making a knife as it is making jewelry. Except you have cooler tools.”

“Actually I have some crucibles. If you want to design molds we can melt metal to make jewelry.”

“No way,” she says with a huge smile as she playfully slaps me on my peck. “This is so sweet, my friends tell me I’ll never find a guy who’s into crafts, and here you are.”

Score.

Looks like those walls are coming down. Who’d think cute little Jennifer would be so cool about art.

“Guys aren’t crafty,” I tell her with as serious a look as I can muster. “If you tell other guys I’m crafty, my testosterone level will decrease dramatically.”

“So you’re cool and artsy and I get to be a lame and crafty while we do the same thing?”

“That appears to be about right.” Taking advantage of the moment I lean in and give her a kiss. She tastes good, her mouth is sweet, and her skin is soft. When we finally part I lean my forehead against hers as I ask, “Are you hungry?”

Biting her lip she nods. Tilting my head toward my kitchen, I tell her, “I’ve got some chicken in the refrigerator. We can barbecue it for dinner. Do you have to be back anytime soon?”

“No, dinner sounds good. Tell me what I can help with.”

I stand up still holding on to her. Pulling her tight, I give her another kiss while I get to run my hands over that hot butt of hers. Finally, I let her go so we can head into my Winnebago.

Entering, I state the obvious, “The kitchen’s small.” The benefit, it gives me a reason to be close to her as I put my hands on her hips to maneuver around in the small space. I finally give in to my latest impulse and kiss those nice lips of hers again.

“I think the chicken is going to burn,” she says only millimeters from my lips.

Who cares about chicken? Once I got a taste of those lips, I knew I wasn’t going to have any self-control. She backs her head up a little more.

I finally breathe in deeply and say, “Yeah, I’ll get the chicken.”

Entering the Winnebago with the chicken, Jennifer has set the table and is now sitting on the bench. As I place the only slightly burned chicken on the Winnebago’s table, I place one knee next to her on the bench using the table to brace myself. Then I lean in and start kissing her again. She squeals in response, which instantly ignites me. My fingers twitch with desire to feel her smooth skin. Soon she’s under me in a deep kiss as I hold myself from crushing her by angling my arm on the table while her arms are around my neck. After a while my arm starts to ache, which is the only thing that finally gets me to sit up.

She gives me a sweet smile when we part and asks in a rough voice, “Is the chicken cold?”

“Yeah but you're hot, so who cares.” My comment causes her to flash me a look, which, too, is hot.

After eating, I find the couple of beers I’ve had have given me a nice relaxing buzz. I grab her hand and start pulling her toward the door. “Come on, I’ll show you something else great about this place.”

“Shouldn’t we clean up?”

“I’ll take care of that later,” I say as I open the door. As the cool night air hits, she noticeably shivers. “Hold on,” I tell her as I grab a warm fleece for her and a hoody for me. Placing the fleece around her shoulders, I throw on my hoody. What is it about a girl in my clothes that turns me on? Checking her out, I realize I like the way it’s really big on her.

I reach for Jennifer’s hand. “Now the fun,” I say, as I lead her to the clearing on the top of the hill. The night is clear and there’s no moon. It’s only early evening, but it’s October so the sky is already dark.

At the top of the hill she says, “Now what?”

Sitting down and pulling her onto my lap, I say softly into her ear, “We get to look at the stars and make out. It’s the rural form of homegrown entertainment.”