Page 19 of Their Stolen Kisses
Chapter 9
Cameron
The plane was landing in San Francisco, but the fascination with watching the ground draw closer, closer and closer until the landing wheels touched down had worn off a long time ago. I didn’t even slide up the window blind, preferring instead to do little things like straighten up my reclining chair, pack away my headphones and check the time. Right on schedule, according to my watch.
Years ago, I had toyed with the idea of getting my own private jet. Having my own jet at my disposal whenever and wherever I wanted had sounded nice, but in reality, I was actually trying to travel as little as possible. Noah needed to make friends and have a steady schedule at his age, not have his father zooming off to all corners of the world. And if I had my own jet, I’d be much more likely to go on impromptu trips. Travel was nice, but I didn’t need it to be happy - and I didn’t need a private jet to travel.
Still, I almost always flew first class if at all possible. Some smaller airports didn’t have a reason to accommodate first-class passengers because they were few and far between. San Francisco had no such lack of wealthy men and women wishing to fly to the city in style, so I’d had no trouble at all getting a seat on this plane in Chicago.
First class was preferable to economy in so many ways. Legroom. Lots of legroom. And better refreshments, as well as a wider selection. There were also fewer people per plane, which meant fewer prying eyes to see the occasional ridiculous smiles and lustful movements that may have flashed across my face while I lay in my reclining seat with my eyes closed, thinking.
I had a lot to think about, and it all started with Diana. Unlike when I had kissed her, I didn’t have to ask myself what I’d done after our… office moment. I’d known exactly what I was doing. I had repressed my desire for her long enough and obviously, Diana had wanted it too.
But I had needed more, so much more. I felt her wetness for me, surrounded my finger with the warm, needy sweetness of her body. I had tasted her want for my attentions that had lingered on my fingers after I left her. When I got back to my own office - as a necessity if I was going to focus on my work - I had entered my private restroom.
With my back against the tiled wall, I unzipped my suit pants and grabbed my hard length. Moaning quietly, I stroked myself with one hand and held the fingers with Diana’s juices to my lips with the other until my eyes rolled up, and I released my own need - but it wasn’t enough.
Stopping had been the right call, though. Sex in the office was something I’d never, ever done - even with Jo. After all the women I’d been with and allowed to do… well, almost anything their hearts desired and I did the same to them… I wasn’t really in the position to take a moral stand. However, despite my… kinks, I could still draw lines, and I drew one at blatant sex in the office.
Luckily, Diana did too, because if she had begged me to put the throbbing erection that she could clearly see inside of her, I wouldn’t have been able to say no.
What did she see in me? I had a handsome face, but years of a time-consuming job and spending every free second I had with Noah hadn’t helped my physique. My biceps had remained impressive, but my stomach wasn’t as toned as it had once been when I spent time in the gym with my old college buddies and a few colleagues. With Diana’s wide hips and buxom chest, her confident, swingy walk that showed off all her assets, and beautiful, symmetrical features, surely she could have had any man she wanted.
What did I have? Money, and lots of it. Diana didn’t seem like she was driven by money or the desire for it, but… I’d seen it before. Demure, beautiful women who pretended to be into me, told me they loved kids, then did something to make it clear they just wanted that expensive pair of heels or that real fur coat.
As of yet, Diana hadn’t asked me for a single thing. Chloe had referred her to me as a nanny, and Diana hadn’t even let me pay her anything in advance when it might have helped her mother feel better and taken a little weight off both their shoulders. Someone who only wanted access to my money wouldn’t act that way.
I hated to even think it, but it wasn’t necessarily out of the question. She could have been playing the long con.
The long con.Did I really think so little of Diana? She worked hard - she’d even found those misallocated funds for me somehow - and she loved her mother and wanted to take care of her.It’s not that I think little of her, I just don’t know what to think.I just knew that I couldn’t be with someone who said they loved me while staring into the contents of my wallet.
I spotted a driver standing next to a car and holding a sign that read ‘Cameron Hart’. Briefly, I introduced myself and shook his hand, then I sat in the back of the car on the way to Oceanside Lodge. This was the same hotel I’d stayed at for the last court date, and in fact, every time I came to San Francisco. The name sounded very fancy, but in reality, the ritzy hotel was several stories tall, very modern, and looked nothing like a lodge.
It did, however, have a view of the ocean as the name promised, and my room had windows looking out toward the sea. I had made sure of that when I booked it.
When the keycard swiper beeped and let me into my room, I found my luggage already set neatly next to the bed and a bottle of white wine on top of the mini fridge under the bar; a card resting against it that said: “Enjoy!” This wasn’t a complimentary service, I knew, but one of familiarity. Whenever I came to San Francisco, I stayed here - and the staff remembered me and my name. I had ordered this very bottle once, and they had the courtesy to remember and bring me one as a small gift thanking me for my business.
I poured a glass immediately, resolving to thank the staff when I ordered room service this evening. Sitting on the balcony in the deliciously warm, sunny, 62-degree weather, the wine actually lifted my spirits for a time. What a nice gesture! This was why I always stayed in 5-star hotels, despite the fact that I was usually fairly careful with my money. They remembered you, the service was excellent and you never knew who you might meet or what connections you might make at a place like this.
One glass was fine. Looking back, two had been a mistake.
There was a saying that I’d heard in college - or maybe it was Socrates or Plato or one of those other ancient philosophers. Drink to feel better when you already feel good. Drink to feel worse when you already feel bad. The hotel’s hospitality had briefly fooled me into forgetting my cares, but now that I had a couple glasses of wine in me…
I couldn’t take my eyes off the bed. It was simple, sleek, and modern. Crisp yet soft, dark yet inviting, the blanket lacked a single wrinkle. What color were the sheets hiding underneath? The headboard jutted about three feet above the bed, reaching a high point in the center and tapering down gracefully until reaching two knobs, one on either side.
The knobs were just tall enough to tie ropes around.
The thought sickened me, opening gates of repressed emotions and releasing shame and loneliness into my heart. But… I couldn’t see the ropes, at least not as I used to use them. In my half-drunken mind’s eye, the ropes hung unused along the posts. No makeup-caked woman with assets too large to be real lay there, waiting for me.
Instead, I could see Diana. She lay on her side, lips slightly parted in that adorable, teasing way of hers, waiting. Waiting for me? She softly blinked her eyesyes. I went to her, and we concentrated only on each other. We didn’t need anything else. No toys, no games, no fantasies - just our bodies to please each other.
My fantasy crashed to an abrupt halt when I realized that I hadn’t touched Diana’s breasts yet and thus, couldn’t visualize them. That thought combined with the wine nearly brought tears to my eyes. How could I even dare to fantasize about having Diana on a bed in which I would have been more than happy to indulge myself in paid escorts and S&M?
Maybe one lapse of judgment would have been forgivable. After the divorce, I’d been lonely. People say that when someone you love leaves your life, they leave a hole in your heart, but I disagree. Jo had left many holes in my heart, some of which I was still seeking to fill. Physical and mental closeness to another human being, someone to talk to, someone to spend time with - just for starters. The divorce had deprived me of all these things… No, Jo had deprived me of all these things.
I had tried to fill the closeness hole with a few hours of wild sex here and there. It hadn’t worked and now I could see that it never would have worked. It was unhealthy, and I should have realized that after the first few times. Then, maybe, I could forgive myself now and I could have healed sooner.
Too late.I drained my glass and poured another. Maybe if I kept drinking I would just forget about Diana.
