Mid Life Love (12 page)

“No.” He trapped
my bottom lip between his teeth, squeezing my cheeks even harder, bouncing me
against him with no finesse.

I let out
another moan and heard a loud beeping sound from the front of the room—the
sound that meant someone was talking; if it went off again, the lights would
automatically come on.

“So, you’re into
other people watching?” Jonathan whispered against my mouth. “I’m not opposed
to that...” He pressed his lips against mine and kissed me to prevent me from
making another sound. He started flexing himself upwards, still holding and
controlling my pace with his hands.

I couldn’t take
it anymore, I felt an orgasm building inside of me, felt it getting ready to
make me scream, so I broke away from Jonathan’s kiss.

“I’m...I’m about
to...” I murmured. “I’m—”

He leaned
forward and bit my down on my lips. Hard.

My legs started
to shake and severe vibrations rippled through my entire body. As the intense
pleasure rolled through me, I tried to push myself away from him so I could
exhale, scream, breathe—but he didn’t let my mouth go until my body stiffened
and stilled.

When he was sure
I was done, he released my lips and leaned back against the wall.

I slumped
forward against his chest, panting—too angry to think straight. I sat there,
still on top of him, wondering if I was dreaming or if he was really that
crazy.

“Let me help
you.” I heard him say as he gently moved me off of him. “You’re quite the
exhibitionist...” He wiped a cloth between my thighs—I assumed it was his suit’s
handkerchief, and kissed my forehead as he did it.

Then he pulled
my dress back over my thighs and ran his fingers through my hair.

I heard him
zipping his pants up and buckling his belt. I could barely see his face in the
darkness, but I could feel him staring at me—like he always did when we were
finished.

I tried to
channel my anger and confusion into something else, anything else, but the
ocean sounds and blasting headphone music in the room were way too loud. There
were even a few people snoring.

“Follow me.” He
grabbed my hand and pulled me up. He pushed a panel in the wall that was behind
us, leading me into a dark room with a wooden conference table.

He quietly slid
the panel back into place and locked it. “Let’s eat lunch together.”

What?

He must’ve
noticed the look on my face because he smiled. “It’ll only take thirty minutes
of your time. The Zen session will be over by then.”

I was
speechless. I couldn’t believe the nerve of him, to literally fuck me in a room
full of my closest colleagues and then have the audacity to suggest lunch.

“I’ll have our
lunch brought in here.” He started drawing the blinds open. “What do you want
to eat?”

I didn’t answer.

“Claire?” He
turned around. “You know I’m not a huge fan of unanswered questions...”

“A grilled
chicken salad, hold the sex please.”

He laughed and
pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“Does every room
at Statham Industries have a secret hidden passage?” I asked.

“No, not all of
them, just the executive ones. They’re more of a fire safety measure, but they
clearly
come in handy for other things...”

I rolled my eyes
and sat at the table.

“Angela? Could
you have someone bring me two grilled chicken salads and two sweet teas to the
executive en-suite on level twenty-four? You’re the best. Thanks.” He sat
across from me. “The door to your left leads out into the hallway by the way.”

“Duly noted...”

“Are you upset
with me?”

“I don’t know
what I am. I’m not sure how I should feel after being fucked in front of all my
coworkers.”

“
Elated
,
maybe?”

“There are a lot
of words that come to mind.
That
definitely isn’t one of them.”

“Well, next time
just
turn around
. I’m sure no one saw anything. Most of them were
falling asleep...Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead...”

“Do you ever do
the dating thing or do you just stand people up whenever they ask you out?”

“I don’t do the
dating thing.”

“Why not?”

I shrugged. “I
don’t want to be disappointed again, if you know what I mean...” I started
thinking about Ryan and immediately steered the conversation away. “Do you do
the
dating thing
?”

“I’ve been
trying to...The woman I’m currently after is the most difficult woman I’ve ever
pursued.”

“She’s probably
out of your league. Why don’t you just date a supermodel?”

“Not interested.
I’ve done that before.”

Oh...
“Well, why not
an actress?”

There was a
knock at the door.

“I did that
before too...There’s not much substance in any of those women honestly, but I
can’t really blame them. They become just like everyone else in the industry.”
He opened the door and retrieved our lunch. As he carried the boxes back over
to the table, he looked at me. “I know this is random, but I’ve been meaning to
ask you this: Do you have a fascination with white and red flags?”

“What?”

“Your necklaces
and the charm bracelets you wear. All of them have white and red triangle
flags.”

“Oh...No, I wouldn’t
call it a fascination. I just like flags.”

“Interesting...”

He passed me my
salad and tea, and the two of us ate in complete silence.

Every now and
then, I would look up at him and he would smile. Despite the fact that I was
upset with him for what he’d pulled minutes ago, I couldn’t help but smile
back.

It was strange
for me to actually
enjoy
being around someone in silence, but he and I
slipped into silence all the time. With anyone else it usually felt boring or
awkward, but with him it always felt natural.

“Thank you for
lunch.” I stood up once I was done. “It was very sweet of you, but we’re not
doing it again.”

“Why not?”

“Because
whatever this is between you and I is strictly
physical
. I get mine and
you get yours. That’s it.”

“Okay, Claire.”
He smirked.

“I mean it.” I
put on my best non-negotiable face. “This is strictly about sex.”

“I’m not
doubting you, but if you keep standing there and looking at me like that, you
may not make it back downstairs.”

I rolled my eyes
and walked out of the room.

––––––––

M
onday was the
best and worst day of the week: “Best” because it meant that after a weekend
without any sex, it was finally going to start up again. “Worst” because Mr.
Barnes insisted on scheduling the bulk of our meetings and presentations on
that day.

However, this
particular Monday was worse than usual because I didn’t get one second to relax
over the weekend.

I spent my
entire Saturday standing on the Golden Gate Bridge, shooting three different
versions of the
s
Phone blue commercial: We did take after take after
take, and once it was finally perfected, the director realized he’d been
shooting with the wrong camera, so we had to do it all over again.

On Sunday, my
team and I spent eighteen hours going through stock footage, trying to come up
with promotion strategies for Statham Industries’ newest product: the
s
Tablet.

By the time I
arrived to work on Monday, I was a walking zombie. I sat through endless
meetings—intern contracts, publicity revamps, beta research, et cetera, et
cetera. I didn’t bother taking a lunch break because two clients requested me
at the last minute to help with their pitches.

When my last
meeting was over, I was completely slammed. I tried drinking a few cups of
coffee to perk myself up, but there was no effect whatsoever.

It wasn’t until
a little after five when I noticed a text Jonathan had sent hours ago:
“My
secretary went home early so we can use my office today...You can come up
whenever you like.”

I packed all my
things away and freshened myself up in the bathroom, hoping that a few hours
with him would be all I needed to gain some energy.

I took the
elevator up to the top floor and knocked.

“Good afternoon,
Claire.” He opened the door and ushered me inside.

I looked around
his office and tried not to seem utterly impressed. It was ten times the size
of my office and there were doors that led to other rooms on all four walls.

On the wall to
my right was a floor to ceiling bookcase that was filled with hardcover books.
To my left, was a projector screen that covered the entire wall and a seating
area for ten. His massive metal desk was centered in front of the floor to
ceiling windows, and there was a huge white luxury sofa in the corner.

He put his hands
on my shoulders and raised his eyebrow. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I’m
fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Why
wouldn’t I be?”

“Hmmm. No
reason.”

He led me over
to the sofa and sat down next to me. He held my face in his hands and looked
deep into my eyes before kissing me.

I thought he was
going to take off my clothes or lay me against the couch, but he pulled me into
his lap and began massaging my shoulders. 

“How was your
day today?” he asked.

“It was ahhh...It
was okay...” I murmured.

“And how did
your promo shoots go over the weekend?”

“Ahhh...Good. Very
good.” I closed my eyes, focusing on the soft rhythm of his hands, and then
everything went black.

––––––––

I
felt fingers
running through my hair, a hand caressing my face. I opened my eyes and
realized I was lying in Jonathan’s lap.

I fell asleep?!

“Is sex with me
that
boring?” He looked down at me and smiled. “You can tell me, you know. We
can work on it.”

“I’m sorry. I’m
just really exhausted and I—”

“No need to
apologize. I knew you were tired when you came in...Turn over.”

I groggily
rolled over and he started massaging my back.

“Long day?”

“Long weekend...I
think I’ve had seven hours of sleep over the past three days. Promo sweeps are the
worst part of being a marketing director because the clients expect so much. We
were on the bridge all day Saturday and here all day yesterday...It probably
didn’t help that we kept ordering take-out food every three hours...”

“You should’ve
called me. I would’ve had a chef team stationed here for you all.”

“You wouldn’t
have done that.” I exhaled as he pressed his palms into my back.

This feels so
good...

“I would have,
especially if I had known
you
were here.”

“Good to know,
but ‘calling you’ and ‘talking to you on the phone’ fall outside of the
strictly sex rule. Remember?”

“I don’t think
there’s anything wrong with us talking on the phone, Claire. As a matter of
fact, I’m going to call you tomorrow night, and you’re going to answer.”

“I’ll think
about it.”

I heard him
laugh, and then I felt his hands move further down my back.

“I think you
should call in sick tomorrow and get some rest,” he said.

“So you can show
up to my house uninvited?”

“No.” He planted
a kiss on the back of my shoulder. “It’s because you really need to catch up on
your sleep. You’re no good to the company if you’re this exhausted.”

“Oh...Well, I’ll
consider that.”

“Good.”

J
onathan

My secretary
called my line. “Mr. Statham?”

“Yes?”

“Your mother is here
for lunch sir.”

“Send her in
please.”

Seconds later,
my mother came into my office wearing a pale gray suit. Her make-up was done to
perfection, and it looked like she’d been taking care of herself—for all of
one
month
. Her light blue eyes still looked as clear and optimistic as they did
on her graduation day, but I wasn’t getting my hopes up. She’d relapsed way too
many times for me to actually believe she’d change.

She sat down at
the desk and my eyes veered towards the small box that was protruding from her
jacket.

“I thought you
said you quit smoking.” I sighed.

“Yeah, crystal
meth, not
cigarettes
. They’re practically harmless.”

I shook my head
and grabbed the cigarettes out of her pocket. “Dropping one bad habit for
another isn’t the best idea. Do you want me to buy you some nicotine patches?”

“Why would I
want that, Jonathan?”

“So you can stop
killing yourself and live to see
sixty
.”

“Oh, you’re a
health expert now? I guess being a
billionaire
makes you think you know
everything, huh?”

“
Everyone
knows
smoking is bad for you. It’s on the damn box.”

I should’ve
never agreed to this...

“But it’s even
worse for a former
meth head
right? I bet me being here embarrasses the
hell out you. Doesn’t it? I bet you don’t want any of your rich little friends
to see that your
drugged out mommy
is once again fresh out of rehab
and—”

“Okay, just
stop. Stop right now.” I shook my head. “I agreed to meet with you once a week
for
your
benefit.
Not mine
. So, if you plan on coming up here to
make me feel guilty about being successful, you’re wasting your time...We
should just try this again next week.”

“What?” She
looked hurt. “You want me to leave?”

“Yes. Now.”

“I’m...I’m sorry...I
didn’t mean to say any of that. It’s just that sometimes I’m so out of it
because I don’t have a real outlet anymore and...I’m so sorry, Jonathan. I—”

“It’s okay.
We’ll just try again next week.” I walked over and hugged her. “We need to do
this right if we’re going to do it at all. I don’t want to be frustrated with
you, and I don’t want you frustrated with me. Just leave the cigarettes in your
car next time.”

She gave me a
half smile. “Okay...I’ll see you next week.”

I walked her out
of my office and hit the elevator button for her. As soon as she was gone, I
crashed behind my desk and held my head in my hands. 

My mother was
the only person who could get under my skin in a matter of seconds. No matter
how hard I tried to be polite, how hard I tried to be helpful, she always had
something negative to say—as if
I
was the one who ruined her life.

She’d done that
to herself and I was still extremely angry with her for not realizing that.

I often wondered
why she couldn’t have been a normal mother who actually gave a shit about her
kids, one who helped with homework and actually made dinner from time to time.
Instead, my mother—
and
my father, were passed out high most of the time,
leaving me and my little sister starving; forcing me to go dumpster diving late
at night for my neighbors’ leftovers.

I’d wasted way
too many years worrying about my parents and I refused to let them get to me
anymore. I had other things on my plate, like Claire Gracen.

She was the most
difficult woman I’d ever come across, and usually when a woman frustrated me, I
moved on to another one. But Claire was different.

On the one hand,
she exuded this air of confidence that made everyone else in the room
disappear, that made it impossible for me to focus on anything else that was
going on. She also seemed to become more gorgeous each and every time I saw
her—something I didn’t even know was possible. And the sex was absolutely
phenomenal
—I
didn’t think I would ever get enough.

Yet, that was
the only time in which she was somewhat open with me. She was extremely guarded
in regular conversation, as if she were carefully measuring each of her words.
Anytime she was on the verge of saying something remotely personal, she cut
herself off and completely shut down. Of course, I hadn’t been that open with
her either, but I’d always thought that women were more eager to share parts of
themselves.

I opened the
drawer at the bottom of my desk and pulled out the basic background file I’d
asked Corey to make for me: Divorced four years ago. Marital tax records for
fourteen years. Two daughters—Ashley Gracen and Caroline Gracen. Over one
hundred thousand dollars in debt. Independent voting record. Parking ticket
from last Saturday.

Normally, I
would ask him to run a complete background check—to run her name through every
single database he could hack into, but I decided against it. For the first
time, I wanted to see if I could find out everything about a woman on my own
for a change.

––––––––

“O
hhh goddd...Ohhh
goddd...I’m....I’m going to cum...I—I’m...” Claire rocked against me a few more times
and collapsed into my arms, breathing heavily.

Both of our
chests rose and fell together, and we lay intertwined on the floor of my office
for several minutes.

She’s definitely
the best I’ve ever had...

She rolled off
me and I slowly sat up.

I moved her
skirt back over her hips and snapped the clasps back together. I slid her shirt
back over her arms and started re-fastening the buttons.

Once I reached
the last button, I ran my fingers across her silver necklace. I was starting to
keep count; she had at least ten different ones that all featured the same
white and red flags.

“You sure you
don’t want to eat with me?” I zipped my pants. “I don’t think it’s considered
lunch
if everyone has gone home for the day.”

She smiled. “It
definitely is, so
no
. Thank you for the offer though.”

“Okay. I’ll go
pay for the Chinese food, and when I get back I’ll walk you down to the
garage.”

As soon as I
stepped outside my office, I saw Mr. Barnes and ten other staff members lying
face up on the floor.

“What the...”

“Oh! Mr.
Statham!” Mr. Barnes stood up and shook my hand. “I didn’t realize you would be
here so late today.”

“What are you
all doing?”

“We’re following
the advice of chapter seven in our Zen book. It says that sometimes it’s good
to get energy from those who have been successful. So, we’re doing our Zen
exercises right in front of
your
office. We’re trying to get some of
your aura to rub off on us.”

I am never
hiring another motivational speaker...
“That sounds... really interesting. Do you
need anything from me?”

“No, not unless
you want to join us. It might work even better if the source of inspiration is
in our circle.”

“Maybe next
time.” I tried not to laugh. “I have some work to finish.”

“Understandable.”
He lay back down on the floor and shut his eyes.

I walked out
into the hallway and paid for the Chinese food, trying not to step on any of
the crazed associates on my way back to the office.

“Okay. I’m
ready.” Claire walked past me and I grabbed her by the waist.

“We can’t leave
right now.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because your
coworkers are out there doing Zen rituals. They’re trying to soak up my aura or
something. Would you like to go out there and join them?”

“Are you kidding
me?” She walked over to the door and peered through the blinds. “
Idiots
...Wait,
does that mean that they could hear us?” She paled.

“Doubt it. The
office is soundproof... I guess you have no choice but to eat with me today. I
ordered for two.”

“Of course you
did.” She took a brown bag from me.

As usual, we
slipped into a state of silence, a familiar comforting silence. Even though it
was enjoyable, I felt like we needed to break that routine today. We needed to
be able to talk in person. 

I cleared my
throat. “Why aren’t you taking the Zen book as seriously as they are?”

“I only read
books with substance.”

“I had to put it
down after five pages myself.” I laughed. “I have no idea what that guy was
talking about.”

“Then why did
you pay him two million dollars?”

“Politics. Plus
it’s a good tax write off.”

“Oh. Here I was
thinking that you actually cared about boosting employee morale. How
inspiring
.”

“Careful,
Claire. I’m easily aroused by sarcasm.” I watched her face turn bright red.
“Are you currently reading any books
with substance
?”

“
In Cold
Blood
by Truman Capote. My daughters are reading it for English class so I
decided to read it with them.”

I felt a pang in
my chest. “Family book club? Do you all have family meetings and things like
that too?”

“Yeah.” She
sliced her eggroll. “We have family meetings every other Tuesday and I try to
take them on a trip every summer.”

“Why?”

“It’s just
something my mom used to do for me when I was growing up and I want them to
experience it too. I mean, the trips aren’t extravagant or anything—mostly
road-trips, but they’re usually really fun. Did your family do trips?”

My “family”
didn’t do anything...

I shook my head.
“No, not really. Where are you taking them this summer?”

“I want to take
them on a cruise in June, but it’ll probably have to wait until August.”

“Because of your
job?”

“No, because I’m
not
rich
and I actually have to
save
money to do the things I want.”
She smiled. “Plus, I’m trying to put a plan together to pay off my student
loans, my mortgage, and—Sorry. I know you don’t care about this stuff. I
should—”

“How much do you
have left to pay off?”

“I can’t go
there...I’m embarrassed to say it aloud.”

“Don’t be. Tell
me.”

She sighed. “I
owe fifty four thousand dollars in student loans and one hundred thousand
dollars on my house...I was being optimistic when I said I’d be able to pay it
off. I’ll probably be sixty by then.”

“Will you still
be working here with me?”

“Ha! Please!”
She laughed and walked over to the door.

I followed her
and saw that her team was now doing meditative yoga on top of yellow mats. Mr.
Barnes appeared to be reading off a list of exercises.

“How long do you
think they’ll be out there?” She sighed.

“Probably
another hour or so.” I walked over to my desk and grabbed my jacket. “Come on,
I’ll walk you down to the garage.”

“What! Are you
crazy? We’re just going to walk out there and pray that they won’t see us? That
they won’t think us being together after-hours is suspicious?”

I laughed. “Of
course not. I have a private elevator.”

“Are you
serious?! You knew that the
entire time
?”