Stranger at My Door

CH05: Christian

Stranger at my door

CH05: Christian

Monday  Afternoon,  Seattle WA

“Oh, well. I rather enjoyed it, Christian.” Then, she reaches over and kisses me and what a kiss it is!

She grabs both sides of my face and pulls me to her, her fingers interlaced on my hair, her lips are soft, and her tongue tentatively licks my lips. It is a soft and sensual kiss. I feel like I am climbing up, higher and higher. My heart is racing and I pull from the kiss; if I don’t, I will take her right here, right now. Her big blue eyes reflect just as much lust as I feel.

“I would like to take you some place more private.” I confess as she takes a deep intake of air.

“Christian, I do not” she trails my chin with her right index finger “do bow-chicka-wow-wow;” she wiggles her eyebrows up and down, “on the first date.” Her voice is light with laughter. “Besides, I have to go back to work.” She is smiling and a bit coy.

 “Well, how about on the second date, then?” I ask teasingly.

“Now, that” she says enunciating carefully “would be telling wouldn’t it?”

I cannot help but laugh; I really like her easy going personality. I take a sip of my coffee and entwine my hand with hers, pull it to my lips kissing her soft hand, and stand up. I desire to keep our contact as much as possible.

As we walk back to her office, I decide to address the big elephant in the room. “You have not asked me about Christy’s mother -”

“I figured you will tell me when you are ready. I really did not know who you were when you knocked at my door this morning.” She smiles gently, as if remembering something. “When you walked into my office I was looking you up in the internet. I am sorry you had to go through all that.” She looks up with those sapphire eyes that shake me to my core.

“Is that what you were doing? I thought you were reading one of the smutty stories you are editing.” Images of her at her office flash around my mind. She was standing up behind her desk, trying inconspicuously to rub her thighs. All of the sudden, there is a beautiful rose blush all over her face and I wonder if all her body turns that beautiful color.

“Christian,” She says. “Have you Goggled yourself?”

I slow down, we are at SIP, and I am about to open the front door. “No, I really haven’t.” I have a PR group, and I do not want to relieve all those horrible stories.

“Well, you should. There are some mighty nice pictures of you.” She bites her lip as she goes through the open door.

Me! She was checking my pictures out; that’s music to my ears, and I cannot help but have an extra oomph into my step. I like this woman. I make a mental note to Google myself.

However, I feel like a bucket full of iced water has been poured on me when I see that my Ana is being hugged by a man who is the picture perfect image of a young Spanish man. I take him in, he is dark, has black messy straight hair, dark mysterious eyes, and about an inch shorter than I am. He is muscular; he is wearing a blue and white stripped sweater, and khaki pants. He seems overly friendly, smiling, and truly happy to see Ana.

Who is he? A co-worker? A client? “Jose Rodriguez.” The man says extending his right hand to me. I am not happy, his hands were touching what is mine – well she is not mine yet, but that is a matter of semantics. Who is this fucker?