The Album: Book One (20 page)

Meanwhile . . .

“Adam, how was your lunch? You missed your partners meeting.” Caroline invades my personal space, batting her eyelashes and swirling a teabag in a mug. “I think you would be impressed with my ability to lie on my first day as your secretary,” she flaunts.

I back away from her and slip into my office. She follows me.

“Caroline, I’m sorry you had to lie, but don’t think you’re doing your job by looking out for me,” I say firmly.

“I – I just, what I mean is, I want you to like me and I didn’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Relax. I like you. Hey, can you page Fiona Dawson to meet me in the conference room with the Parker files.”

Caroline stares at me blankly.

“You can find her extension when you log in to the firm’s directory. It’s 4768.”

She nods her head and walks out to her desk. I follow behind her with my glasses and a notepad and wait at her desk while she pages Fiona.

Caroline is definitely pretty, but there’s something about the way she uses her looks to manipulate men that’s unsettling. I know her type – I’ve slept with her type. She thinks by being my secretary she’s privy to my personal life or worse, that one flirtatious wink will send my dick into an involuntary boner any time she’s here.

“She’ll meet you there now, Adam.” Caroline puts down the phone and sits at her desk. She busies herself with the mail but I can see she’s upset and possibly a little jealous. If I say something nice, she’ll take that as invitation to continue the flirtatious banter. If I say something professional or harsh, she will assume I’m ignoring her flirtatious banter and will only try harder. Caroline will prove to be my greatest work challenge.

“Thank you Caroline. Say, what type of tea do you drink?” Earl Grey.

“Oh, usually Earl Grey,” she says. She looks up at me from her computer and flashes a playful smile.

“Me, too.” I don’t. “Okay, off to work.” Smooth.

“Right. I’ll be here if you need me.” Fantastic.

I meet Fiona at the door to Conference Room Six. She’s smiling like a smug five-year-old that stole a lollipop and I think I know why. We close the door behind us and sit across from each other at the table. She stares at me with a condescending smile . . . waiting for me to say something.

“Jesus, Fiona. Just say it,” I snarl.

“Say what? That you seem to be having a good day with the ladies.” She laughs.

I take the file in front of her and start to flip through the documents. “A good day would be some pizza and tickets to the Red Bulls.”

“Hilarious. I knew you couldn’t handle an actual relationship!”

I lift my head and cock my eyebrow. “And what about you? How’s your friend?”

She shakes her head in disappointment. “Not happening. Do you ever think that casual sex is the best way to go? Because if you separate the sex, relationships just make you hate your partner, or worse, make you hate yourself.”

“That’s deep Fiona – and depressing. I don’t do relationships, so I guess I’ll never know.”

“We’ll see, Adam.” She nods unsatisfied. “Okay, so congrats on your promotion and thank you for leaving me with your shitty cases.”

“What? I’m here aren’t I?” I put on my glasses and look over the documents in Raymond Parker’s file. “Catch me up . . . I know he wants to sell his share of a pharmaceutical company – so what’s the problem?”

“Lots of problems. He’s been cooking the books for close to three years. There’s enough to get him on tax fraud, but there’s a whole lot more. Because he fucked with the finances, the price of a share in the company is much higher than what it’s worth. Of course, now he wants to sell it and red flags are popping up everywhere – like the FBI.”

“Shit. Tax and security laws are not my area – why was I assigned to him?”

“Because you’re a legal god and everyone wants you,” she teases. “In my paralegal opinion, which means absolutely nothing, you have to make him pay his taxes. That at least puts him in a better position. And if he’s a real prick about it, get off the case and turn him in.”

“Is there a court date?”

“Lemme see. Yes, a New York Supreme Court hearing in two weeks. He’s currently being sued by the pharmaceuticals company for withholding financial information. Fantastic, he’s counter-suing for forty percent of the company’s holdings backdated to December 2002. Lots of tongue-sticking-out and name-calling I’m sure, but at the end of the day, you can’t represent someone that screwed the government.”

“What does he want exactly, besides avoiding federal prison? Is it money?”

“How would I know? I’m just the . . . what was it that you called me during your first week?”

“A secretary with a degree and a nice rack. And yet you still slept with me,” I tease.

Fiona laughs loudly as I skim the file to find his last address listed in Connecticut. I remember this guy . . . kinda obnoxious, but he was having a tough year. He wanted me to represent him in a transactional case – I don’t remember the full story, but it seemed like a routine request at the time. But shit, a simple transaction behind closed doors just became my worst nightmare.

“Fiona, schedule a meeting with him as soon as possible.”

“Are you telling Shaw?”

“Not yet. I’m hoping I can talk some sense into him before further investigations.” I remove my glasses and lean back in my chair. Fiona glances at my chest discreetly, and then places the documents back into the file.

“I’ll let your new secretary know when I make the appointment.” She stands quickly and straightens her skirt. Fiona hurries to the door and I stand to stop her.

“Wait,” I demand. She pauses by the door, smiling slightly as her eyes roam around my chest. “Fiona, some relationships
can
be fun. Look at us.” I’m being honest – sex with Fiona was fun.

“You know where to find me, Adam.”

Adam Ford
9/1/03
Re: Walnut Grove

N
EW
Y
ORK
C
ITY
has a colorful list of misnomers – like Gay St., Borough Park and Brooklyn Egg Creams. Chloe’s place of employment is no different but honestly, the name bugs the living hell out of me. The Bridge is a pub-style bar miles from an actual bridge and resides directly across the street from The Holland Tunnel. Most people probably only care about what’s on tap, but because I’m a purveyor of truth, I have to ask.

“What’s with the name?” I ask Chloe as she pops off the lid to a bottle of Stella.

“The Bridge? Who the fuck knows . . . let’s ask Dennis.” She places the beer and a glass in front of me and then serves three bottles to a waitress with purple braids.

This bar is like most Manhattan bars, cramped, overpriced and oddly shaped – but the atmosphere is eclectic without being pretentious. And because of the strange layout, there is enough space for a small, elevated stage directly in the middle of the main room.

“Hey Dennis, get over here.” Chloe whistles.

Dennis is a small-framed white guy in his forties with a bald head and beady little eyes. He’s the type I wouldn’t fuck with in a dark alley, but the way Chloe interacts with him, it’s obvious he’s a big softie.

“Dennis, this is my friend Adam. We have a friendly bet in the works about the origin of the bar’s name!” Chloe winks at me while Dennis shakes my hand.

Dennis leans against the bar and rubs his chin. “Let’s see, I started as a bartender in 1991 and back then it was known as B&T – bridge and tunnel. But people started getting all sensitive in the ’90s and took offense to the derogatory meaning of B&T. So the owners at the time decided to do a very elaborate revamp of the bar, including a new name . . . The Bridge won in a coin toss.” He smiles proudly. “So who won the bet?”

“I did,” I say. Chloe lowers her head to hide her adorable smile.

“Good for you – be sure to collect on your prize,” Dennis says.

I wink at Chloe and add, “I intend to.”

“Chloe, you can leave as soon as Devon gets here. It’s a slow night and I know it’s not your normal shift. Oh and hey, stop by tomorrow and we can do a sound check.”

“Dennis, the stage looks fantastic and having weekly music is going to be a big draw. What about a flyer? I can have Nat make a ton of copies,” Chloe suggests.

“I’ll leave that up to you! Nice meeting you, Adam.”

Dennis walks toward a dark hallway, stopping to chat with a couple at the end of the bar. Every guy at some point in their life wants to own a bar and drink with their buddies, and I might be slightly jealous of Dennis’s gig.

“I’ll be right back, lo-ver.” Chloe takes two glasses of white wine to a table of young women. They stare quizzically as Chloe nods in my direction. The women smile simultaneously and the one with the black hair and really tight sweater gives me a finger wave. Fuck, what did Chloe tell them?

Chloe saunters back over to me and puts her arm around my shoulders. “Kelly and Kristen say thank you and would love to have you join them.” She laughs.

“Is that funny to you – do you honestly think you can ever make me uncomfortable?” I run my hand over her round ass as she leans into me and strokes the back of my neck.

“It’s pretty funny. Follow me,” she whispers into my ear. I watch Chloe walk toward the dark hallway, her long hair swinging against her back.

I leave some cash on the bar and follow behind her. She’s walking straight toward the unisex bathroom, fuck yeah . . . but then makes a sharp left to a concealed doorway. I catch up to her and place my hand on her back.

“Where’re we going?” I ask.

“I need to grab a case of tonic water and I thought you could help,” she says quietly.

Chloe slides open the large black door, revealing a narrow staircase. I close the door behind us as she flips on string after string of white Christmas lights, giving the shoddy basement an ethereal glow.

“Hit the lock, will ya,” she says, descending the stairs. I slide the steel bar across the door and watch her float down the old staircase.

She stops at the base and turns to look at me, her alluring eyes seducing me. “Are you coming?”

I descend each step slowly, knowing exactly where this is going and wanting to enjoy every single second. I reach the base of the stairs and put my hands in my pockets. She smiles as I walk toward her, stopping within in an inch of her body. “Where’s the water?” I ask, knowing there’s no water.

Chloe wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me. She sucks obsessively on my bottom lip – the spot I surrendered to her all those weeks ago. I slide my tongue deeper into her mouth, causing her to gasp and release her unnecessary grip on my neck. Her hands move to my belt, hastily unfastening the buckle. I bite her lip – she unzips my pants. She slides her fingers into my boxers, gently stroking my hard erection.

“I don’t have a condom,” I say.

“I’m going to Toronto for a few days,” she answers.

God, she confuses me.

I move us toward a stack of empty wine crates, knocking a few over in the process. Chloe pulls my pants down and drops to her knees. I run my hands through her hair, guiding her mouth to the perfect spot.

“Give me your jacket.” Chloe commands.

I remove my suit jacket and toss it down to her. She rolls it into a messy ball and places it under her knees.

I like where this is going.

Chloe pulls her t-shirt over her head and throws it to the side. Her bra is ice blue and sheer, her nipples protruding through the fabric and begging to be sucked. She slowly lowers my boxers, her fingers trailing the inside of my legs. Her hot mouth moves over my shaft as I lean back against the stack of wine crates. Chloe keeps her eyes open the entire time while I ram myself deeper into her luscious mouth. Blowjobs are fucking fantastic, but having a beautiful woman devour me because she enjoys it is the epitome of sexual pleasure.

Her tongue skims my sensitive head as she unfastens her bra. She moves my tip to her breast, tracing the contour of her nipple.

“Oh fuck,” I murmur.

“Adam, relax.”

Chloe lowers her head and licks my tip, slowly moving my cock between her breasts. She smiles up at me as I take her hair in my hand and nod for her to continue. Chloe presses her tits together and hugs my throbbing dick, a perfect fit.

She rubs against me rapidly, flesh to flesh contact – my head grazing her bottom lip with each thrust. She then moves her breasts around me slowly, licking my head each time it surfaces near her mouth. Her irregular motions are so fucking . . . surprising and . . . oh fuck. I don’t want to release on her, not like this—

“Now!” she demands as I clinch my knuckles.

“Ah, shit. Fuck, oh Chloe . . .” I explode.

She looks down at her chest, a shiny trail between her breasts. God, she’s beautiful.

“Adam Ford, what happened to your self-control?”

“Oh, shit – Chloe, I’m sorry. Let me clean you off.” I reach for a package of cocktail napkins as she stands in front of me.

“Kiss me,” she demands.

I kiss her, our lips searching for that perfect ridge of familiarity and excitement.

She breaks our kiss and laughs. “Okay, now clean me! This stuff hardens quicker than Royal icing.”

I wipe her neck and chest with a handful of paper napkins, all of which have B&T stamped on them. I help Chloe fasten her bra, kissing her shoulders and running my hand down the front of her pants. “Let me play with you,” I say.

“Not here. I don’t have sex in semi-public places. And see that camera up there?” She points to the corner where a video camera dangles from a wire. “It
could
still work.”

“Nice try – but I’m
never
uncomfortable.”

“Wait – how’d you know that’s what I was trying to do?”

“Come home with me tonight,” I reply.

Either from the shoddy festive lighting illuminating her face, or the realization that
this
is getting real, Chloe simply glows. She takes a step closer and smiles. “Okay, lo-ver. Take me to Brooklyn.”

I slam her body against the outside of my apartment door, watching her red lips creep into a smile.

Focus Adam.

I press against her, pinning her hips under mine, and brushing my lips against her mouth.

“Chloe, let it all go – right now. Because once we step inside this door, you will deny every single one of your impulses. Control it.”

“Ah, I see . . . a practice in patience.” She laughs and wiggles her shoulders. “Okay! I’m ready.”

I put my hand on her neck. “Look at me. No more talking, no humming, and absolutely no touching – my lips are off limits.” I turn the key in the doorknob as she grabs my neck, kissing me frantically. I push open the door and break our kiss. “In,” I order.

Chloe takes a step inside and inhales deeply. She wants this – she wants to feel the discipline of resolve. I remove her leather jacket and drop it on the floor. I stand behind her, wrapping my arm around her chest. “Bedroom,” I say into her neck.

She walks forward, never looking back. I push open my bedroom door and nudge her toward the center of the room. Her eyes follow me as I take off my jacket and roll up my sleeves.

“Remove your clothes,” I say with authority.

Her lips stretch into a smile but I shake my head. She pulls her shirt over her head and tosses it to the floor. Chloe unbuckles and then pulls down her black pants, stopping at her ankles to remove her shoes. She steps out of her pants and kicks them toward me. I cross my arms and shake my head. “Everything,” I scorn.

Chloe reaches behind her back and unfastens her blue bra, letting it drop to the floor. She lowers her blue panties to her thighs and then seductively bends over her long legs to slide them off. When she stands in front of me, I almost lose it. Her body is soft and voluptuous, but it’s her naked vulnerability, her passion – shit, I cannot regulate my emotions.

“Now, turn around,” I say.

She rolls her eyes dramatically, so I respond with a disapproving glare.

“Turn around, Chloe.”

Chloe pivots slowly and places her hands on her waist. I take a few moments to run my eyes up and down her bare backside, smiling the entire time – and now I’m hard.

I remove my tie and shirt and approach her back. She flinches as my fingers slowly trail down her arms. I pull her wrists behind her and fasten them with my tie. “No touching, not even yourself.” I pull the tie taut and then slowly spin her around.

She looks into my eyes, then my lips . . . and then my chest. Chloe lowers her head to observe my erection penetrating through my pants. I touch myself and she bites her lip.

I run my thumb over her lips. She ignores my teasing by tightening her mouth, fighting her urge to suck my finger. I kiss her neck and her shoulder, and then slowly run my tongue over her breast. Her body tenses as she lets out a small whimper.

“Control it,” I instruct.

Her head rolls back as she tries to focus on anything but me. I smile into her chest, amused by her failed efforts. My tongue circles her hard nipple and she squirms under my touch. I bring my hands to her hips and squeeze tightly, standing up and staring into her eyes. They’re darker now, insatiable lust permeating her body.

“Look at me,” I say.

Chloe’s eyes are wild and her mouth is quivering. She wants to say something, but she wants to fuck even more. Her gaze falls to my mouth – this will be the test.

I slowly lick . . . then scrape with my teeth . . . and then bite, my bottom lip.

“Oh, fuck it!” Chloe heaves her naked body onto my chest and bites my lip. I knew she couldn’t last – but what I didn’t know, what I wasn’t prepared for?

How much I fucking love it.