She (18 page)

When we break apart, I clear my throat, and say, “Hello to you, too.”

He smiles at me and I ache inside. Oh, I adore you, Logan! I run my hand over his cheek. Oh, I’ve missed you, Logan!
Thank god it’s the weekend
, I think.

Logan seems to be having similar thoughts. “Three nights…two days…spent with the woman I love,” he says, kissing me again. “What could be better?” he whispers against my lips.

“Rien,” I grin.
Nothing
.

*

We chat back and forth for most of the twenty minute journey. We’re not traveling far, but at rush hour everything moves at a snail’s pace.

“In three block’s time we’re going to pass the first building I worked on when I moved here. I was a brick-layer,” Logan tells me.

I’m immediately drawn by the image of Logan doing manually labour, of him building something with his bare hands. Mmm, what a sexy sight that would be! “I’d have liked to have seen that,” I smile at him.

He grins back at me knowing full well that I’m imagining him drenched in sweat, his biceps bulging.

He considers for a moment, “You would have been thirteen at the time.”

Really
? “That’s quite a big age gap,” I note. “Doesn’t seem so big now, though.”

“That’s because women are more mature than men,” Logan tells me.

“You’re very mature, I think.”

He laughs a little as he says, “You haven’t seen my home yet.”

“As long as you don’t have Star Wars bed sheets…” I tease.

“Hmm, no, not Star Wars,” he says elusively.

Uh-oh
! “What then?” I dread to even ask.

“Perhaps a certain boy wizard?” he grins, and I laugh, knowing he’s joking.

“So, you’re a Pot-head?”

“Excuse me?” Logan chuckles.

“You know, someone who loves Harry Potter, is called a Pot-head,” I explain. “I was a huge Pot-head in high school.”

“So was I, Gemima, but of a very different kind!”

I giggle, “Yes, you’ve told me. So, were you just teasing me, or is there really something horrifying waiting to be unveiled at your apartment?”

“Hmm, there’s only one thing I can think of that might take some explaining. However, it’s very small, and the odds of you finding it aren’t high, so perhaps I ought to risk it…?”
“How small?” I ask.

“It’s about the size of a CD.”

“The
size
of a CD, or a CD itself?” I ask.

“I’ve said too much already,” he says dramatically.

I smile at him. “I will find it, Logan,” I warn. “Hmm, it must be pretty embarrassing.” Ooh, this could be fun!

Before I even know which CD it is, he starts backtracking.

“It’s not
really
my doing that I have it,” he says, and I laugh. “It is true that I was partial to this particular band many years ago, but I had gotten rid of all evidence until Buddy bought me one of their CDs as a joke. A joke about you, no less,” he smiles at me.

“Me?” I ask, shocked. “When did he buy you it?”

“After the AABD party two years ago. He was there, too. He saw that I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. He saw also that you had a boyfriend, and the song is kind of about that.”

“Will you hum it to me?” I ask, now intrigued.

“No,” he laughs.

“I’ll just have to ask Buddy, then…” I say, letting my words sit and work on him.

“
Shit
… OK, I’ll tell you, as long as you promise not to laugh.”

“Uh…” No, I think, I can’t promise that! I shake my head.

“It’s an ‘N Sync CD,” he confesses.

I stare at him for half a second before bursting into laughter. Logan has a CD of the band that I was
obsessed
with when I was a teenager?

“Oh. My. God!” I laugh.

He grins, despite himself. “Buddy and I were big fans in two-thousand and two-thousand-and-one,” he explains.

Really
? I just can’t see it!

“So was I Logan, but I was a teenage
girl
!” I giggle.

“We couldn’t help it. Their songs are catchy!”

“
Are
catchy?”

“Were!” he laughs. “I mean, they
were
catchy. My taste has evolved.”

Still laughing, I ask, “Did you two go and see them in concert?”

Logan says nothing, but his silence speaks volumes.

I crack up again. “You
so
did!” I laugh.

“I think everyone thought we were gay,” he chuckles. “We had a great time, though,” he confesses openly.

“So did I. Me and all my thirteen-year-old friends!” I tell him. I look at him affectionately. Oh, that is a surprise, I smile to myself. “So, which song did Buddy think was about me?”

“
Girlfriend
,” Logan tells me.

I think back and then start immediately singing, “
Bom, da-da-da. Would you be my girlfriend
?
Da-da-da. You know I like you, right
?
Bom, da-da-da. Would you be my girlfriend
? … That one?” I ask.

“The very same,” Logan smiles at me.

“Hmm, it is surprisingly fitting.”

Logan laughs. “Exactly! That’s why Buddy bought me the CD.”

“Oh,
sure
, Buddy bought the CD…” I tease. “Did it console you?”

“There was little to console me, Gemima,” he says, a serious edge to his voice.

“But…but there must have been other women in those two years? You weren’t celibate in your longing for me, were you?” I enquire.

“I was not,” he admits, looking at me impassively. “I did turn off the CD player at some point,” he grins, “and I did
try
not to think about you. I had no guarantee that you would ever leave Jerry, I could only hope you would. So, yes, there were other women, but never anything serious. I couldn’t give them my attention when I wanted someone else.”

I’m silent for a moment. “You really wanted me all that time?” I ask quietly.

“Yes. I did,” he answers sincerely.

“What would you have done if Jerry and I hadn’t of broken up?”

“I would have kept waiting,” he says simply. “I told you, I would’ve waited an eternity. But I didn’t have to,” he smiles, taking my hand and kissing it.

“I thought you knew it would be so great between us,” I say.

“Yeah, that’s
if
we got together. I didn’t know we
would
get together.”

I sigh. “I’m
so
glad Jerry cheated on me!” I exclaim. “It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me…it lead me to you.”

“And vice versa, baby.”

“You’re not the type of person who gets fixated on something and then chucks it as soon as you get it, are you? Because, I confess, that would not bode well for me!”

Logan smiles at me and shakes his head, looking amused. “No, I’m the type of person who gets fixated on something and then spends everyday being thankful that I have it.”

His response takes me aback.

After it settles in, I smile at him lovingly. “Good answer, Logan. Very good answer.”

He laughs, and then starts, “Oh, that’s the building I built!” he points as we crawl passed it.

“That precarious looking one?” I play with him.

He laughs again.

The building is beautiful, and in what I can only assume to be perfect structural condition. “So, you were a brick layer, then what?” I ask.

“Then Buddy and I started our own building company,” Logan explains.

“The one you sold two years later?”

“Yes. Then before diving into anything else, we took a year off, and traveled around the world together. Mostly together,” he amends.

“Mostly?” I ask, and then add, “Where did you go?”

“We went all over. Europe, Africa, Asia and South America.”

Wow, I think.

“And
mostly
together,” he continues, “because we had a small disagreement at one stage, but we got over it.”

“What did you fight about?”

“Une femme,” he reveals.
A woman
.

“Ah, but of course!” I grin. “The old adage came true, though: bros over hoes.”

Logan smiles at me, his eyes wide. “That is exactly how Buddy described it!”

I grin. “You said last Friday night that your favourite holiday was in Japan…?”

“Yes, I learnt a great deal about business there,” he smiles reminiscently.

“What about your favourite non-business holiday?” I wonder.

He ponders for a moment, and then tells me, “I don’t think that has happened yet.”

Something about the way he looks at me makes me think: Logan, what are you planning?

*

Logan drives into the very centre of
La Défense
, the business district of Paris, and one of the busiest in Europe. He turns off the jam-packed road at the bottom of an imperially tall building, driving down into the basement beneath it. He has two parking bays, but with only one car he elects to park his length ways across them both.

I fumble to get a decent grip on my parcel which lies by my feet; by the time I do, Logan has my door open. He holds out his hands to take the package, which I give him, and then I twist around and pull my overnight bag towards me, before clambering out of the car myself.

“So many clothes, Gemima,” he tuts, playfully.

“And so little time to wear them,” I grin, mischievously.

“You could wear something at my birthday party…”

Ah
-
ha
! I smile, “I’m allowed to come?”

He nods. “I was too focused on how embarrassing it might be, that I failed to realise that your presence will make it all bearable. So, if you’d like to go, then I’d love you to be there. On my arm, as my girlfriend,” he repeats my words from lunchtime.

“Of course I’ll go,” I say, stepping towards him and giving him a quick peck on the lips. “Maybe there’s something in there for me to wear,” I tap my parcel of online shopping.

“I’ve got to go to another function on next Thursday…maybe there’s something in here for you to wear there, too?” he says.

“Do you want to show me off?” I ask, gleefully.

“Abso-fucking-lutely!” He’s adamant.

His answer thrills me. Suddenly I couldn’t care less what’s in the box he’s carrying for me. I just want to get to his apartment…to his bedroom…to his bed.
I suppose the floor would do too
, I muse internally. But Logan kills my stream of thoughts in an unexpected way.

“The only problem is that Jerry might be there on Thursday…” he looks at me warily.

Huh. OK… “Why?” I ask.

“The function is like the closing off of the last project we worked on together. I don’t know if he’ll show, but I have to go, and you can come if you want to, but I just thought I’d warn you first.”

Hmm…do I really want to risk being face to face with Jerry?
I won’t have to
, I tell myself, if he’s there I’ll just ignore him, and spend the evening by Logan’s side. Yes, I smile,
that’s
what I’ll do. Besides, I remind myself, Logan only put up with Jerry because he wanted to see me! That thought makes me swoon as much now as when Logan first told me.

“Thank you for warning me. I don’t want to see
him
, but, yes, I’d like to come with you,” I say, and we both instantly smile at the double-meaning of my last words.

“You’d…like to come with me?” Logan asks, his voice quiet, his eyes smouldering.

Suddenly I’m back in my state of wanting. “You did say you wanted to hear
that
sound the very moment we entered your apartment.”

He takes ahold of my hand. “Let’s get to my apartment, then,” he smiles, leading me towards the elevator.

Logan presses the button that summons the elevator, and then stares at the descending numbers impatiently until it reads B, for basement. There’s a ping sound and the doors open. Still holding my hand, Logan nods, indicating that I should enter first. He follows me in and then lets go of my hand to press the security card that’s attached to his car keys against a small electronic box on the wall. It beeps once. Then he presses the P button, for Penthouse, I assume. There are thirty-six other buttons, so Logan lives on level thirty-seven. He wasn’t kidding about the height!

“How long have you lived here?” I ask him.

“Two years.”

I smile at him.
How perfect
, I think. “So all the time you’ve been thinking of me, you’ve lived here?”

“Yes,” he says, leaning his body against mine, pushing me into the elevator wall. He lets my parcel slide down his leg to the floor. His hands are free and on my body, running up my stomach, over my breasts, and up to cup my face.
Ah
, those hands!

“Then I like it already,” I breathe.

With a smile his mouth claims mine, and we spend the elevator ride making out in silence. With every floor we pass desire encompasses more of me. I feel it build in Logan, too. As I wrap my arms around his neck, holding his mouth to mine, he pushes his body more firmly against me, and down below I can feel his growing arousal.

The elevator pings, and our kiss ends.

“I want to make love to you, Logan,” I say, my lips against his.

“Ditto, baby,” he smiles again, his dimples seducing me even more. He bends to pick up my parcel and then taking my hand he walks out of the elevator into his dark apartment.

7. Nothing At All

“Lights,” Logan says loudly, and like magic the room lights up.

It’s clear from the fast pace that Logan sets across the room that my tour will have to wait ’til afterwards.
Fine by me
, I think. But as we cross the room, I spy a large open-planned design with the usual living, dining, and kitchen set up. Where Logan leads me is less usual: a narrow corridor which is walled on one side but which has floor to ceiling glass on the other side. The affect is slightly vertigo inducing, even with the darkness outside. Thirty-seven stories is a long, long way up!

On the walled side there are two closed doors. As we pass them, Logan tells me, “That’s the bathroom. This is the walk-in-robe. Lights,” he says again.

Ahead of us lights come on and the narrow corridor opens into a large spacious bedroom. The floor to ceiling windows continue for the length of the room and I find myself being drawn to stand against the glass. I look out at the magnificent view of other skyscrapers, and then I look down to the busy street below.

“This is quite some view,” I breathe. “I didn’t realise people live in this district.”

“Only workaholics,” Logan grins, standing next to me.

“You didn’t work a lot this week,” I say slyly. “And you won’t work a lot next week either.”

He groans, “For quite different reasons unfortunately.” He sighs. “I asked the nurse who took my blood if I could have sex after my surgery…she advised I rest for a few days.” He looks put out about this.

I smile up at him, adoring him. “Yes, Logan, I’d surmised as much. You need to rest while the air they fill you with during the operation leaves your body through your pores, possibly causing you some pain and discomfort.”

He looks at me questioningly.

“I googled it this morning,” I laugh, and he smiles at me. Unable to resist that smile I reach up and kiss one of the dimples in his cheek and then whisper into his ear, “We’ll just have to make these three nights and two days
extra
special…”

I hear his breath hitch and before I know what’s happening Logan turns me so that his front is to my back and he pushes me flush against the glass window, his hands working their way down the sides of my body to my backside, which he cups and caresses. His chin is resting on my shoulder, his face turned inwards, his lips on my skin. I splay my hands above me on the glass, my breathing coming in rapid bursts. I sneak another glance down.
Shit
, we’re high up!

“This glass had better be strong,” I tell him.

He chuckles against my skin, igniting every nerve in my body. Amatory desire courses through me. His hands slowly let down the zipper at the back of my skirt. Something pulls deep within me. Jeez, this is going to be a good weekend!

“It is strong. It’s bulletproof,” he says.

Good
, I think.

He takes one of his hands off of my hips and then runs it along the length of my outstretched arm until his hand is over mine. He holds it there for a moment, before knocking his fist hard against the glass beside my hand. I feel the window shimmer against me; it both frightens and thrills me.

Logan retreats his hand from the glass and moves it back down south, sliding it into the opening at the zipper of my skirt. His hand skims over my hip and then plunges down the front towards my sex. It’s a tight fit for an already tight-fitting skirt. He rubs me on the outside of my panties for a few delicious moments. His touch is so welcome! I stick my backside out, pushing and rubbing it against his crotch, feeling his erection. Logan pushes against me too, flattening me to the glass. Butterflies fill my stomach for several reasons.
Oh
, we’re high up!
Ah
, I want Logan so badly!

His hand finds its way into my underwear and he strokes my bare sex. I’m wet, already; desiring him as much down there as I do everywhere else in my body. I rest my head against his shoulder, my eyes closed, my mouth open.
Yes
, this feels good!
So
good after the separation of today. I widen my stance a little, but damn this skirt, I can’t widen it much. Logan rests his free hand, fingers sprawled, on the glass window next to mine, encasing me. I am wonderfully caught between two firm structures, unable and unwilling to get out. He likes to do this to me, to force me to feel every beautiful, erotic touch of his fingers. They slide over me, pushing, provoking. I open my eyes and stare at his hand on the window. My god, his hands turn me on!

“
Oh
, Logan,” I whisper, his caress delighting every part of me. I feel myself building, quickly. In an attempt to escape his touch and last longer, I tilt my hips backwards once more and I rub my backside against his crotch. But my escape plan doesn’t work, for wherever I go, Logan’s hand follows and reacts to me by stroking me faster and harder. I moan loudly, and I keep rubbing against his erection.

He groans in my ear, and I am nearly overcome. “Nothing turns me on like you, Gemima,” he tells me.

I push against him harder, and he hisses.

“
Shit
,” he mewls, “you feel
so
good!
Ah
, I want you, baby.”

“Then take me,” I beg him, my voice barely audible.

I feel him smile into my neck. “I am,” he says, quite rightly.

Aaah
! Yes, he
is
! I want to arch my back, but I can’t; he’s got me pinned so tightly, fully absorbing his delectable handiwork. It feels different to other times; strange to be upright, my legs in my taut skirt, my body unable to writhe in pleasure. The sensation builds, localised in my groin, and I feel like a bomb that’s about to explode. Oh,
yes
!

“This is very brave of you,” he whispers into my ear.

Brave? Why? I wonder.

“I can feel that you’re about to come,” he says, and I groan loudly, “and as far as you know, anybody could be watching…”

I
am
about to come. So close.
Oh
! So
fucking
close! My mind reels; I stare out of the window. I can see the lights on in the buildings all around us, but I can’t comprehend what that means. All I can focus on is Logan’s hand, touching me, slower and slower and slower, elongating my pleasure.
Oh my god
! He knows
exactly
what he’s doing! My legs start to tremble.

“As far as…I know?” I pant. “You mean…no one can…see us?” My voice is getting higher and higher.

“I would
never
let that happen,” Logan promises.

His words undo me. Logan…
I love you
! My backside tremours against his crotch and he groans loudly, savouring the sensation. I orgasm, long and surreal, crying out in total euphoria. My body rattles in the infinitesimal space between Logan and the window. Oh,
jeez
! This feels astounding; amazing; breathtaking! I rest my head against the cool window, steadying my breathing.

My whole body feels loose and limber; my mind is overwhelmed with endorphins. Logan retracts his hand from inside my underwear and places it on the glass window, marking it with evidence of my arousal.

We stand, so close, for a few quiet moments, before I say aloud, “I love you.”

“I know, baby. I love you, too,” he nuzzles into my neck, his words making me smile.

“How come no one can see us?” I ask.

“The glass is one way only. From the outside it reflects like a mirror,” he says.

“Like those one-way mirrors they have in police stations?”

“Yes, that
is
where I got the idea from.”

“
You
constructed this building?” I ask in surprise.

“Yes,” he says again. “I guess you could say my seven arrests gave me creative inspiration,” he reveals.

“You know, I was a pretty fearless eighteen-year-old myself…I wonder what I’d have made of you if my eighteen-year-old self met your eighteen-year-old self.”

“I dread to think,” he says.

I grin. “Why?”

“Simply put, there’s no way in hell that my eighteen-year-old self was worthy of you, Gemima.”

I smile at his words. Logan, you say the sweetest things! “You’re worthy now,” I tell him.

“And I will endeavour to always remain so.”

“You will,” I know it. “And you’re
sure
no one can see in?” What I want to do is a little more exposing that what we just did.

“I’m sure,” he whispers in my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

Perfect
, I think. Then I turn around and sink to my knees before him, my eyes on his, which are wide and wanting, my hands on the buckle of his belt, unfastening it at lightning speed. When it’s undone, along with the button and zipper on his pants, I pull his pants and his boxers all the way down to the ground. I run my hands up the backs of his legs holding him firmly so that he can’t back away.
I can use that tactic too
,
Logan
, I smile to myself. I kneel and face his large erection, licking my lips, before licking his tip.

“
Aaah
,” he breathes.

His hands are flat against the window above me. Mine are under his backside, but as I take him fully into my mouth, savouring the guttural sounds he makes, I move them onto his backside, my nails digging in, keeping him close. He moves more than I did, so I dig my nails in deeper, telling him to still.

“Ah!” he gasps, but he gets my message, ceasing his writhing and instead letting the intensity build.

I run my tongue up and down his sizeable length, taking him deep into the back of my throat, as well as delicately sucking his end. I can taste his pre-arrival, and by the way his hips tense I know he’s close.

“Baby…
Oh
!” he grits his teeth.

I suck faster and harder, feeling in his body language and hearing in his rapid breathing that he’s about to explode in my mouth. I lick his tip one more time, his legs stiffen and he comes, releasing himself.

“
Gemima
!” he cries out, his voice filled with satisfaction.

I swallow, and then suck him a little bit more. He trembles with pleasure. Then I release him and quickly shuffle around to look at his buttocks. They’re a little red where my nails dug in, but I didn’t draw blood. I lay a gentle kiss on each cheek and then stand up behind him and hug him from the back.

He leans his head back against mine. “That…was incredible,” he pants.

I kiss his neck and then reach up and kiss his cheek. Oh, how I love to see him come undone because of me!

“Is this what you had in mind when you moved in here: you, me, and this window?” I ask, smiling.

He chuckles, sounding utterly content and relaxed. “There are limits to what even I deem probable, Gemima.” He turns around and strokes my cheek with the back of his hand looking at me besottedly.

I fall apart under his gaze, staring back at him in complete adoration. I love this man! Now, and for the rest of my life.

“You, me, this window…this room…it’s better than a dream; it’s really happening,” he says quietly, leaning down to kiss my lips.

We’re lost for a while in our kiss. It’s loving, and heady, and desiring. I wrap my arms around his neck, and grin into his mouth as I think, what a sight we must look, me fully clothed and Logan clothed on top and naked from the waist down. The thought of being sighted makes me start.

I pull away from Logan to ask, “Mercy’s not here, is she?”

Abruptly, making me jump and then laugh, he shouts, “MERCY?
Mercy
?” He waits for a moment before telling me what is obvious. “No, she’s not here,” he smiles at me.

“Ah, of course not,” I remember, “the lights were off when we came in.” I look towards the ceiling and say, “Lights,” in the same manner that Logan instructed them earlier. Nothing happens. “Lights off,” I try.

Logan’s smile broadens and he shakes his head at me. “The voice activation is personalised to my voice,” he tells me.

“Lights,” I say in a deep, gruff impression of Logan.

He laughs. “We’ll have to set up an activation for your voice too, otherwise you won’t be able to operate anything. Not the lights, not the toilet…”

“Your toilet is voice activated?” I ask with wide eyes.

“Yup.”

“From Japan?” I assume.

“Yup,” he grins.

“Very savvy,” I smile back at him, before turning to look at his bedroom to take it all in for the first time. All the furniture is white-stained wood, very
in
at the moment. On the opposite wall is his large, white linen-covered bed.

“So, this is the master bedroom?”

“This is the only bedroom,” he tells me.

“Where do your parents stay when they visit?” I ask.

He points out of the window to the building opposite. “There’s a hotel right across from here.”

“Is that why you only have one bedroom, so you can’t have other people in your space?” I wonder.

He looks at me with an amused expression on his face. “Probably,” he says. About his parents, he tells me, “You’ll meet them soon…”

Will I? Ah, suddenly I remember him telling me at our first lunch date that his parents were visiting in a few weeks, and one of those weeks is already up.
“For your birthday?” I guess.

He nods. “They’ll be at the party. Taylor, his wife and daughter will be there, too.”

“I didn’t realise he was married,” I say. “Your dad’s, uh, kind of famous, right?”