Jill Marie Denton
Strangelove - Part 10
Jessica had to spend her entire Sunday off pouring over tax documents at her kitchen table, just to ease her conscience. Spending so many hours with Garrett day before meant she was behind. With only two weeks left of tax season, she’d need every spare moment she could get.
It was irresponsible and unwise to be distracted right now. Her mind needed to be sharp, detail-oriented for the next few weeks, but she just couldn’t clear the images of his parlor from her mind. The red velvet, the leather whips, the fur rug. And the man who would offer his services to give her whatever pleasure she desired, as often as she needed.
A squeak in the pipes and the sound of rushing water down the hall signaled that Peter was
awake. She’d called him in the middle of the night, as soon as she knew his personal cell phone ringer would be turned on again, insisting on picking him up at the station house so he couldn’t argue. She licked her lips as he approached the car, still in uniform with the faint gleam of sweat still on his brow from a hard night of rescues. He smiled at the surprise pickup, reciprocated her kisses but swore wide-eyed when her hand unfastened his fly and tugged him loose right in the station’s parking lot. He’d orgasmed by the time she pulled into her apartment building’s parking and twice in the three hours after. She’d managed a small one of her own on their third go-round before dozing off around midnight.
Despite her urgency, he just wasn’t aggressive enough to make her lose control, to unleash the passion Garrett spoke of, and so she rubbed herself relentlessly while he nestled his face in her neck, panting her name until he passed out from exhaustion.
She released a deep breath, her memories fading as her vision refocused on her laptop’s display. The spreadsheet was a mess of numbers and equations. Wiping her eyes, she rose to find some caffeine. She’d already finished her customary cup of earl grey but that was no match for the work to come.
As the scent of coffee began to waft through the apartment, she continued data entry in perfect ten-key, her eyes fixed on the document in her left hand. Peter emerged, toweling his dirty blonde mop and tucking his cell phone into the pocket of his khakis. He eyed her at the computer, watched how intense her focus was and held his tongue. When she was so engrossed, he knew not to bother.
He snagged two mugs from her cabinet and set them alongside the pot. When the drips stopped, he grabbed the handle with a practiced hand. Hers, light and sweet, and his with just a splash of milk. He ferried both mugs to his spot at the head of the table to her right.
When he slid the mug into her peripheral vision, they ten-key typing paused and her palm reached out for it. She lifted the rim to her lips without losing sight of the typed document for a single second. After setting it down, she resumed at breakneck speed.
With a knowing headshake he removed his phone and opened a game app. Time ticked by as they sat silent in each other’s company. When she finally set the document down and sat back, his head lifted. She rolled her shoulders, winced and exhaled a long breath. Her gaze shifted slowly to him, a touch of surprise in the jade of her irises.
“How… how long have you been sitting there?”
“Hi,” he snickered. “I’m Peter. I’m your boyfriend. You picked me up last night and have held me captive ever since. Welcome back to the land of the living.”
She smacked his arm as he chuckled. She lifted the mug and took another sip of the now cooled tonic. “Thanks for the coffee. I remember starting the pot but never got back up for it.”
“That was almost an hour ago,” he remarked, leaning forward to take her hand. “I’m worried about you. Seriously. I know it’s a busy time, but you haven’t slept more than a few hours in over a week. How early were you up this morning?”
“Um, maybe five? Not sure. It was still dark.”
“K, and when was the last time you ate? There are no dishes in the sink. You’re down to about an inch of milk left and you clearly haven’t been to the store in a while.”
Knowing she’d skipped breakfast, she thought back to the day before. She’d been too nervous to eat pre-appointment and too horny to eat after it. Aside from the whiskey, the water and a few sticks of gum, there was no sustenance there, either.
When he saw the confused pondering in her eyes, he already knew. “Fine, I’m ordering food. You’re taking a break and you’re eating. I hate to be so pushy but you’re starting to look sunken in.”
No, no, please be pushy, her mind screamed.
She nodded and lifted the next document in the stack, readying her fingers over the numeric keys. He watched her shift back into work mode as he lifted his phone again, ready to place the order.
“Damn, I’m at twelve percent. Can I borrow your charger?”
“Sure, I’ll go grab it. I have to use the bathroom anyway.”
She swept from the kitchen and down the hall as he turned the laptop, focusing on the spreadsheet displayed. The confluence of numbers made him dizzy instantly, so he carefully minimized the screen and pulled up her internet browser to search out some pizza. Her email app was open, so he opened an adjacent tab.
When she returned a few minutes later, he glanced up from the screen. For a moment, her whole world spun. She’d never considered that he’d take her computer, that he’d use it knowing how important the work on it was to her career and her firm’s reputation. Tax data and personal information was on broad display.
“Peter, that’s client info! You looking at that could get me fired and potentially arrested.”
“No worries, I minimized it.” He turned the laptop around to show her the order confirmation screen for chain pizza delivery. “I can’t understand it anyway. I’d never even try.”
She exhaled a shaky breath. “Sorry, I just… I know I’m high-strung right now. There’s just so much riding on this tax season. Everyone’s breathing down my neck at the office.”
“I bet, and I’m the one that’s sorry. I never meant to stress you out,” he murmured, rising from his seat as she retook hers. He plugged in his phone then stepped behind her chair to rub her shoulders. “This’ll be over soon. Just a few more weeks, except for the people that file extensions, right?”
She smiled. He remembered. “Yeah. But way less people do extensions, so the work’ll be spread out a bit better once we’re past April fifteenth. I’m hoping my eyes won’t start bleeding before then.”
“Not likely,” the doting paramedic replied. “They shouldn’t unless you get punched by someone who thinks they deserve a bigger refund.”
“Uh oh, then I’d need to call you in.”
He chuckled, sitting to her right again and retaking her palm. “I’ll be there in a flash. Aside from forcing you to eat, I’m pretty useless during tax season. I wish I could help more. You take such good care of me and I don’t just mean last night.”
Jessica couldn’t help grinning. “You enjoyed yourself?”
“Oh, no question. I just hope you did.”
“Sure,” she responded noncommittally. It wasn’t a total lie. “So, what did you order me?”
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