Haze

chapter 5

"What the hell?" I groaned. My hair was in my eyes, the sunlight scorching and bright through the cluttered strands. "Why's it so early?"

Jack was standing there next to the bed in a red silk robe. "I promised I'd get you home last night—but I slipped up. So this is the next best thing."

I was suddenly very awake. "Shit! What do I do? I don't have my work clothes or anything."

"Relax," he said. "You're so grumpy because it is super early."

I grabbed my cell phone—there were still two hours before I needed to be at the office. I made one of those comically cliché whew! noises and relaxed. "I was really worried there for a second."

"You know, you're so beautiful when you wake up. The sunbeams really make your skin glow."

"Jesus, Jack, why don't you write a song about it?" As much as I acted as if it were a tacky thing to say, I really liked it.

He laughed and smiled. "Don't put me on the spot. C'mon, let's take a shower. God knows how bad we need it."

I was still naked under the sheets, although I didn't even remember getting beneath them. I instinctively grabbed for my clothes, but Jack placed a pink robe in my hand.

"For guests," he said.

"I'm so honored," I mumbled. Yeah, I was grumpy all right. Well, at least I'd be warm without having to get fully dressed.

I stood up to put on the robe but Jack grabbed me before I could do it, giving me a great big hug. He gripped my butt with his hand and gave me a solid kiss on the forehead. "You're like a goddess," he said again. I felt his hardness pressing against my leg through his robe.

"A goddess who desperately needs coffee."

"After the shower. C'mon, Effie."

I didn't even have time to put on the robe because he was already dragging me toward the bathroom. So I carried it. My need for caffeine subsided, at least temporarily.

He led me into the bathroom, a gorgeous, marble-floored room with a double-headed shower. Actually, I had never even thought about that. We could stand in the middle together while individual streams of water kept us warm. Great! There was a separate bathtub too, one I couldn't wait to try out with him.

The mirror was huge, and initially, I shied from it, not wanting to stare at my body in such unflattering light. But I forgot about all of that once Jack dropped his robe. God, he was so hot, even in my sleep deprived state. His muscles were perfectly toned, his butt tightening as he lifted the robe onto a hook. He reached for mine and I handed it to him.

Although last night had happened, this was our first time being fully naked around each other in ample lighting. I tried to match his self-confidence—or was he just that comfortable around me?—but I figured it was still obvious that I was nervous.

"Relax," he said.

"Huh?" I would try to play it cool until I had no other options.

"You're shaking, and that means one of two things—it's really cold in here, or you're nervous. If you're cold in this bathroom, I think I need to take you to the hospital."

I started laughing, instantly forgetting my insecurities. Jack grabbed me and kissed me, his erection resurfacing the very second our tongues touched. The thought and sight of his arousal were waking me even more than caffeine would have.

We climbed into the two-person shower, spending more time hugging than washing. It was great to feel water from both sides. "Do you use both heads when you're in here alone?" I asked.

"Only if I'm feeling wasteful," he said proudly.

We playfully lathered each other up, his hands spending an incredibly disproportionate amount of time on my breasts and ass and running out of soap before he reached anywhere else Every circle with the loofa only served to make him harder. I thought about what he had done for me in the suite, how I felt as if we were currently uneven in terms of sexual giving and receiving.

I reached down and stroked him slowly, pressing my breasts against his side. Gently, I pumped, trying to gauge his response. He seemed to freeze up in terms of shower responsibilities, overwhelmed by pleasure as his breath immediately quickened.

"That's so good, Effie." He leaned against the nearest wall to support himself, his arm flexed and tensed. I watched as his abdominal muscles responded to my touch, tightening and then loosening as I worked.

I did long, flowing strokes that were interspersed with more rapid movements against his engorged tip. And then, he reached down and stopped my hand. "I want those beautiful lips around my cock."

"Jack, I'm just not that—"

"Try it. You'll do great, I know it." His encouragement seemed to be authentic, not just a product of his lust.

I was semi-inexperienced when it came to blowjobs. It had come up a few times in the past, but it was never a regular thing. Plus, he had touched me so perfectly, his efforts skilled far beyond what I was. It wasn't crazy, just new. I wanted to do a great job and that made me tense.

But I simply couldn't say no to him—my body wouldn't permit that. I broke the spell of inaction and lowered to my knees, hungrily taking him into my mouth, sucking and spiraling along the head. His hips slowly rocked with me, as if he were f*cking my mouth. His taste was intoxicating, the saltiness dancing along my taste buds.

I traced along every vein, every ridge, every bump. His breath seemed to sync up with my movements as the water continued to spray us with warmth. I pressed his length against the roof of my mouth, toying with it while maintaining the pressure.

I wanted to touch myself so badly, but I also wanted to give him the best I could, the two things mutually exclusive as I knew from experience. I resisted the urges no matter how strong they grew. This was all for him, oh yes.

Jack's moans grew in intensity, climbing in volume as well. Whether I was great or not, he was definitely liking this. That made me feel good.

"Oh God, I'm gonna come," he growled. Suddenly overwhelmed by my inexperience—and immense fear that I would somehow mess up this very raw moment—I pulled away and finished him with my hand. His cock twitched again and again as thick white ropes of semen shot out of him onto my chest. His body seemed to tighten up entirely, his muscles only moving as more of his seed emerged.

"Oh God, Effie," he cried out.

It was his sex, his pent up lust for me, spilling onto my skin. The water washed most of it away as soon as it hit me. I loosened my grip and slowed my strokes as he came down from his climax, trying to quit before he became hypersensitive. I knew about that part, at least.

"You don't need to worry," he said suddenly. "That was perfect." He knew I had panicked, yet he had no complaints.

I was burning between my thighs at that point, but I wasn't about to say anything. Knowing that I had made him feel so good was enough, even if my body was begging for more. This had been a gift, one that didn't require any reciprocation.

But Jack pulled me up to his level and kissed me right away, pressing me against the shower wall, positioning my body just right. A few short minutes later, his brilliant fingers were against my * and I was coming.

***

I made it to work on time—the cab ended up having to sit outside while I haphazardly threw on some work clothes; thankfully Jack picked up the whole fare—and almost spit out my coffee when I saw the dollar-store greeting card sitting on my desk.

In a fit of confusion, I ripped it open. There was a cat on the front, wearing a Santa hat. Beneath it, the card said "Meowy Christmas!" I choked back laughter. This was the polar opposite of the other gifts he had been giving me, the cheesiest card I had ever received. And it wasn't even Christmas. I excitedly opened it:

Last night was terrific. Can we do it again Friday?

-Jack

My mind was blown. When had there been time for him to do this? I looked at the front one last time and enjoyed a final chuckle. He actually put his name this time, so I'd really have to make sure no one saw it.

I hid the card under some random papers and tried to get to work, the events of last night still cooking my brain inside my skull like those anti-drug commercials they used to show on TV all the time. This is your brain on infatuation. Any questions?

I shot Jack a quick text:

Me: Thanks for the card! It must have cost you a fortune.

Him: It was sitting here in a drawer. Lucky find, huh?

Me: If I could hang it on the wall here, I would! ;)

"Any word from Jack Teller about the Lexy Brown deal?" Sam was standing behind me at the desk, straightening out his shirt as he talked. I immediately dropped my cell phone to my lap. What was I doing? Trying to hide it? He had clearly witnessed my texting.

"He hasn't—" I stopped before I said anything else. What was this, an interrogation? Was he trying to trick me or something? "I haven't heard anything," I said. "Is Lexy Brown the artist?" He had never mentioned her name to me, only referred to her as the artist. If I acted like I knew who she was, I might be putting myself in a bad place.

"Yeah, Lexy's the one." He paused and looked off into the distance. "I sure hope we hear something soon. As you know, I—and this company—really need this deal."

"I'm not even in charge of it," I pleaded. I felt like I could defend myself without raising too many red flags. I didn't have to play entirely dumb. "You just had me sit in for the meeting!"

"True," he said. "Just keep me posted if you hear anything. Information moves quick in this business. If Jack stops by and I'm not here, I want to be the first to know about it."

"Okay, Sam." I sounded flustered, understandably, given his tone and approach. Was it possible that he knew about Jack and me? The thought made my heart beat uncontrollably, almost as much as my memories from last night did—but in a very different way. I had expected him to scold me about texting on the clock; he didn't.

Weird.

He briskly walked back to his office. When he disappeared from view, I sunk back in my chair and let out an enormous sigh. Everything had been strange since that meeting with Jack, that incident of random chance that led to last night and the nights that would follow just like it. I didn't think I was ready for a committed relationship, but I wasn't about to draw any lines just yet, especially with my job possibly dangling from a thread.

Could I actually lose my job over something like this? The more I thought about it, the more I realized I wasn't thinking clearly—but did I really want that? To think clearly? This felt like heaven, like a place I'd never been before. Sure, I'd had good moments in my previous relationships, but they hadn't compared to these in the least—and this was only the beginning.

How could I take sides in a situation like this?

Well, it didn't matter one way or another. I had no influence on Jack's decision, and he had made that very clear. I would just have to keep us quiet for now.

***

I worked extra hard that day and the next, trying to be a model employee for Sam. Even if he had his suspicions about my activities outside of work—nothing that he could prove, of course—I wasn't going to give him anything that he could use against me on the job.

God, I couldn't wait until Friday's end. I wanted to see Jack so bad, to spend some quality time with the man. I didn't even know what we were doing, yet I was satisfied with that vagueness. When five o'clock finally rolled around, I was already flying out of the office.

"Don't have too much fun this weekend, Ms. Jacobs," Sam said. He gave me a weak smile, but it was a smile nevertheless.

"Same to you, Sam."

I headed home, fighting the heavy subway foot traffic as everyone made a mad dash to start the weekend. We were packed like sardines in that subway car. I really hoped we didn't crash, especially not with the car mere inches from overflowing.

The trip turned out just fine.

My phone buzzed in my purse after I got out of the subway. I left it, wanting to save the excitement until I got back into my apartment. But then my ringtone went off and I realized I definitely wanted to take the call.

"Guess what we're doing tonight?" It was Jack. He hadn't even greeted me. Just straight to business.

"Jack! Thanks for saying hi first."

"Guess?"

"We're going to Florida!"

"Shut up. I'm taking you to your very first Broadway show!"

"How do you know it's my first?" I asked.

"Effie! Are you kidding me? Even if you have been to one, you've never experienced it from the best seats in the house."

"Fine, I lied. But can we eat first? I'm famished." All jokes aside, my heart fluttered in my chest. This was going to be something special. My grumbling stomach was trying to steal the show, however.

"We'll have a nice, fancy meal before the show. It's Once. You know it, right?"

I had actually heard of it—and I wanted to see it on top of that!—so this would be great. "Yeah! That's so cool. I don't really know what to say."

"Don't say a damn thing. Just get dressed. Wear that dress you wore to that stupid investor event. It'll be more fun this time. I'll be there to pick you up in forty-five minutes."

I hung up with him and just smiled, realizing how nice all of this was. Things could be so confusing in the best way. A series of cosmic coincidences had led me to this point. I couldn't justify it any other way. Yet, despite the fact that it was incredible luck for me, things could still be so foggy. Not all of the answers were so clear—or apparent at all, really.

What I was feeling for Jack made sense, but barely when placed in perspective with everything else. What about my career? What risks was I willing to take?

Some people needed to overanalyze, to tear apart every bit of every thing they knew. I didn't want to do that here, not now. I wanted to just feel and get lost in the beautiful haze of it all.

Jesse wasn't home when I arrived, so I cranked the music up loudly while I got ready. I was so excited, so giddy and ready for whatever the night would bring. It was my first Broadway show and that was exciting as hell, especially since I'd be joined by this gorgeous, kind of famous guy who was treating me like a queen. Nobody had ever treated me like this before.

The cleavage in my dress felt so different this time, as if it were a gift for Jack exclusively, despite its public nature. I definitely wouldn't have worn this dress to work—but I would wear it again tonight and be proud of it.

Forty-five minutes after I had talked to Jack, I looked out the window to see a limo waiting by the curb—and then I remembered my joke from when he had picked me up last time. I couldn't believe how attentive he was, how well he paid attention to detail.

I moved so quickly down those stairs that I was certain I'd fall to my death, right before this date-of-a-lifetime. Years of wearing heels had made me skilled with stairs, however, a fact for which I was grateful. During high school, I had actually practiced at home before prom, going up and down the stairs to the second floor of my house so many times that I could barely walk when I was done. It was necessary in my quest to prevent anything that might turn out to be social suicide.

God, had I really been that worried about falling down? Adolescence could be such a drag.

Sure, I'd be embarrassed now, but it wouldn't be the end of the world. High school was such a drastically different place than the real world, a fact that wasn't apparent until you graduated.

Jack stepped out of the limo and took my hand as I approached the car.

"You look nice... just as I expected," he said, allowing a grin to emerge. He was wearing a gorgeous, custom-tailored pinstripe suit. His physique still looked perfect beneath it. Despite his dressy apparel, his hair was messy in the most pristine way possible, the usual for him. His eyes quickly settled on my cleavage and then crawled back up to meet mine.

"You're such a pig!" I said. "You didn't even try to hide it."

Jack gave me a peck on the lips and pulled me toward the limo. "Do I really need to? Nothing wrong with appreciating the finer things in life."

"This vehicle is ridiculous, by the way." I stepped inside and immediately drowned in luxury.

"Percy, this is Effie. Effie, that's Percy." An older gentleman sat in the front, also dressed in a nice suit, only his had a matching blue hat. He gave a cordial wave and then called to me as Jack pulled the door shut.

"You look beautiful, ma'am." I was instantly reminded of the attendant in the elevator. It wasn't an unpleasant thing, either. Both men were friendly, and neither seemed like the attitude was counterfeit.

"Thank you," I said mechanically. I really hoped that he meant it. "I like your hat!"

"I wear only the finest, ma'am." Percy let out a low, weathered laugh, one that certainly fit his appearance. He seemed unusually pleased about the fact that he was going to drive a limo through NYC traffic. Well, he was probably paid well, too, based on the tips I'd seen Jack casually hand out thus far.

Percy raised the window up, providing us with full privacy. Jack poured us each a glass of champagne. "Jack! I'm starved. I'm going to be totally tipsy by the time we eat." I took a sip anyway.

"Fine by me," he said. His eyes went right back to my breasts and he buried his face between them, kissing that soft, tender flesh. "Christ, you're beautiful." His breath was so warm against my flesh. "I've missed you so much these last couple of days."

"I missed you too, Jack." By the time I had finished saying his name, he was kissing me, pressing me against the seat with his superior weight. I hungrily kissed him back, submitting myself to his desire. His hands were crawling up my leg, hiking up my skirt and revealing my panties. "Jack," I pleaded pathetically.

Stubble tickled my face as he pulled away, his body lowering to the floor. I felt my panties leaving my body, sliding against my skin until they were bunched around my ankles. I put my hands on his head, weakly trying to prevent the next step.

"What about the driver?" I asked. "Or the people outside the limo?"

"Tinted glass," Jack said. "Doesn't matter anyhow. They can only see your face, not what I'm up to." His tongue touched my * like a bolt of lightning, my body immediately tensing. I wasn't going to be able to stop him—and that was the best thing ever.

My legs held his head tight as my heart pulsed out of control, the pleasure surging through my veins like a drug. The city crawled by around us, but I couldn't pay any attention to it. Jack kept at it until I came against his tongue, my cries spilling out with my cream. He finished just as Percy lowered the window. I jumped as soon as it happened, missing Jack's face with a flying knee by mere inches.

"We're here, Mr. Teller. Enjoy the meal, and I'll be back for you."

My cheeks flushed bright red as I suddenly became far too aware of my sex hair. I felt compromised as hell, but it was okay.

"Thanks, Percy. You ready?" he asked.

"Jack!" I muttered under my breath as I grabbed my panties and pulled them back up. He gave me a wicked I just made you come smile and then opened up the door.

We got into the restaurant quickly—I hid behind him as much as possible, still embarrassed that I had just had an orgasm roughly a minute before—and sat down at a private table in the corner. Jack never even told me the name of the place, just marched me in after having his way between my thighs. Something about that was scorchingly sexy, despite my best attempts to be frustrated by it.

The restaurant was glamorous, the crowd filled with well-dressed, well-off folks. We chatted idly as we waited for our plate of charcuterie and fine cheeses to arrive. It was then that I noticed the text I had missed when Jack had called me right after I got off the subway. It was from Timothy.

Him: I'm in NYC. Can we meet up?

I sipped my wine, trying to bury any hint of the uncertainty I suddenly felt. Jack saw it on my face immediately, though, a skill that Timothy hadn't even acquired after two years of dating. "Effie, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," I said. "Just something stupid."

"Please, tell me. You look like someone just sent you a picture of a car accident. That's not what it is, is it?"

I didn't want to tell him, but the very thought of keeping the secret made me even more uncomfortable than the alternative. Jack was my essentially my new boyfriend, right? Why would he want to hear about my immature ex?

No, I wouldn't be like that. Hiding information was really close to dishonesty. "It's Timothy. He says he's in the city and he wants to meet up."

His eyebrow shot up. "The ex from the story, huh? Are you gonna go see him?"

"Why should I? I don't need to feel obligated just because he showed up without warning."

"True," Jack said. "So just meet him for coffee or something. He probably doesn't know anyone here and just wants to say hi. It's no big deal, trust me. Just be nice. It doesn't have to mean anything."

I thought about how Timothy had taken my options away and thrown a fit when I requested some independence. Just because I had dated him didn't mean that talking with him in person meant anything. And on top of that, there was no harm in being reasonable. "Yeah, you're right. He came a long way to get here."

Jack was being so reasonable about this. Most guys wanted to avoid exes like the plague. Here Jack was, encouraging me to be as diplomatic as possible. It felt like the right thing to do. Something that would have ordinarily put me in the dumps didn't seem like such a big deal. Perspective could make such a huge difference.

Honestly, I had tried to keep Timothy as buried as possible in my mind, worried that it was going to bring back those emotions that just weren't me anymore. But this? This was okay. This seemed like growth.

I ended up having a bacon-wrapped salmon drenched in an incredible béarnaise sauce while Jack went with the classic filet mignon. Everything was absolutely delicious, impeccably placed upon the platters like culinary art. We shared a chocolate soufflé for dessert, the whole thing topped with vanilla ice cream. I was learning French quickly, mostly out of necessity because I figured I was going to have more meals like this in my immediate future.

Percy took us to the theater after we finished dinner, and our seats were every bit as crazy-good as Jack promised. We were dead center in the orchestra section, the place the show was meant to be seen from, per Jack's words. He was on cloud nine the whole show.

I loved every part of it, and based on Jack's never-ending smile, he did too. I felt somewhat jealous, however, wishing I were a musician like Jack. Watching the couple interact on stage made me wish so desperately that Jack and I could craft beautiful songs together, living our lives in a constant state of musical bliss. I hoped we would have a different ending than the couple in the play, but who really knew anything?

There was nothing but time ahead of us and plenty of room for improvisation, both musical and otherwise.

After the show, Jack introduced me to a few famous musician friends—including the director of the play—and then we were on our way home.

That night we made love three times, each subsequent time more intense than the one came before it. The only thing that prevented us from doing it more was the fact that I passed out in the middle of the third orgasm, a reasonably good problem to have to deal with.

***

The next day, per Jack's suggestion, I was going to meet Timothy at an indie coffee shop Jack was familiar with. I wanted to get this over as soon as possible. I hoped Tim had someone else in his life, and I hoped sincerely he was doing well. He had seemed thrilled when I made the suggestion, responding to my response within a minute.

I wasn't sure if that was a good or bad sign...

I kissed Jack goodbye and headed on my way, empowered by the positivity of his input. Yeah, I would do my best to remain positive.

Jack's suggested meeting point was a big place, one where plenty of people were frantically typing away on laptops whilst sipping sugary lattes. There was some room for privacy without having to be inches from the counter and people ordering drinks.

Timothy was already there waiting for me in the back corner. He looked tired and frazzled, his blue shirt one that he had worn many times before. It was suitable for the heat of the summer, but not original or surprising. He looked sharply handsome as always, his black hair freshly trimmed short to match the baby-smooth skin of his cheeks. Timothy was one to maintain his appearance, spending far too much time in the mirror for what I always thought was such a negligible improvement.

There were two cups in front of him.

"Effie!" he said excitedly. We hugged in the most platonic way possible and then sat down.

"Hey, Tim. How are ya?"

"I'm great. Learning to get around. I got you an Americano."

"Oh?" I asked. That whole learning to get around bit seemed like somewhat of a red flag, but I did my best to not make any assumptions. "Thanks," I said. I took a sip and then set the cup back down.

"It's such a big place. I'm just not used to it. How is your job?"

"It's fine." I wanted to say more, but I also didn't want to give him the opportunity to get re-attached. It seemed like my omission of further details seemed to rub him the wrong way.

"Listen, Effie," he said. Yep, I was right.

Oh, God. Here it comes.

"Yeah?"

"I want to try again." He looked so enthusiastic, so full of hope. I swallowed a lump in my throat.

"Tim, I don't know if that's—"

"I'm living here now, Effie! I took a job here for you!" His enthusiasm reached a peak; I almost fainted.