Page 17 of Forbidden
“You are not wrong,” he says before we wrap up the Zoom call.
Later in the week,my team and I fly to Chicago, to meet a bank for a new line of credit. I secure three billion, to be paid back over the coming decade.
Charles, a specialist banker, and me then fly to Dallas, and we close on another three billion for a theme park.
I am sliding some personal finance off the table at the same time. Maybe it is time to diversify, and to buy some property. Who the heck knows, maybe one day I’ll also exit showbiz, and build a home.
As we fly back from Dallas, and the sun sets, a call comes in on my personal cell. It’s Storm, and I answer quickly. “All okay?”
“Yep. Hey, where are the baking trays?”
“In the last drawer behind the main oven, I guess.” I walk away from the banker, Charles, and the junior staff in the private jet.
“And will you be home for dinner? I’m going to make lasagna, or would you like pasta? Only if you’re hungry.”
“Pasta,” I say without thinking.
Storm then asks me about my day. What the hell would she do that for? Who really gives an F, and what’s the point?
I rub my temple, and remember, she’s a sweet, small-town girl, who knows no different. I also remember I tend to be a cold robot.
Growing up alone, depending on no one will do that. Especially after the messed-up chain of foster homes I was forced toendure.
Finally, I answer her next question, even if it feels… weird. “Yes, thanks. I’m having a nice day.” Charles looks over, and even Emily my PA looks across, as if I’ve committed murder.
“So, what time?”
“I’ll likely be home at eight,” I say checking my old watch.
“Great.”
“Ahh, how was your day,” I ask trying to be a human. “Are you alright?”
“Kind of, yeah.”
“Kind of?” I ask protectively.
“Yeah, just some rude folk.”
“Well, let me know if you need someone killed.” There is silence. “I am kidding,” I say flatly.
“Phew, but good to know,” the mousy stranger says.
As we fly across the mid-west, I rub my neck. “Well, see you soon.” I end the call and sit, clicking my neck.
As we all pivot to the last needed billions to expand, I suddenly lose focus. I think of Storm, and I imagine her naked.
She puts so little effort into her presentation, and clothing.
She is so plain, but why am I thinking about her? And daily? Why does the image of her dripping, keep coming to me?
I close my eyes, as my legal and banking advisors drone on. I cannot have my sexual energy distracting me like it used to, and I may soon need to release it.
Release it far from her.
I think of those big brown eyes, perfect full breasts, and large dark nipples. Her hips, wider than I’ve liked in the past, but so darned perfect.
I want to see her eyes, as she unravels, and I want to stretch her wide. Then have her buck on me, and shatter.
