The Virgin Duet Page 3

  “You’re early.”

  “I know how you approve of punctuality. I tried to remind you earlier when you dismissed me for the day, but I assumed our dinner was still on. Our reservations are for four thirty, so I wanted to be sure we had time to prep before the meeting.”

  “Jesus, I thought I heard a cat dying.”

  I turn in time to see Rebecca walking into the room with her finger in her ear. I never noticed how annoying Cindy’s voice was until she pointed it out.

  “Rebecca, you remember my assistant, Cindy.”

  “What is she doing here?” Cindy accuses, and I snap around at her tone.

  “She’s a guest in my home, and if you can’t show her some respect, the door is directly behind you,” I say coldly. I know Cindy can be a little snotty at times, but I’ve never noticed it directed at someone before.

  “I’ll be in the bedroom if you need me,” Rebecca says, and walks away leaving us alone.

  “Are we still on for dinner?”

  “Of course. I’ll need to change. Please have a seat on the sofa and I’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

  Everyone is trying my patience today. I’m going to snap soon. I can feel it.

  I walk back to the bedroom and see Rebecca lying across the bed. I stop in my tracks and turn to shut the door behind me. For some reason this feels intimate. Cindy needs to leave the building. No one should witness this but me.

  Rebecca looks at me, and then stretches like a kitten on top of the covers, completely messing up the neatly made bed.

  “Mind if I take a bath in here before I get ready for bed? It’s been a long day and I see you’ve got plans tonight,” she says, but I swear I catch a dash of anger. Is she upset that I’m leaving her alone for the night? I would cancel but this potential investor is big, and I want the business.

  I showed Rebecca the guest room with an en suite earlier, but I never clarified that it was her room. I think in the back of my mind I wanted to see what she’d do about sleeping arrangements.

  “Yes. That’s no problem. Make yourself at home,” I say nervously. I don’t know what her next move will be, and I’m terrified if I stand here much longer, I won’t be able to control myself. That I’ll want to reach out and touch her.

  I move to the closet and pull out a suit. I turn around to close the closet door to get dressed but Rebecca walks in. She’s taken my shirt off, and her pants as well. She’s wearing a hot-pink thong that barely covers her pussy, and I grip the hanger of the suit I’m holding to keep my hands to myself. My attention focuses between her legs, until she snaps her fingers and I blink.

  “What?” I ask, having missed everything she just said.

  “I said I need something to wear after my bath.” She props her hand on her hip and I blink while shaking my head, trying to figure out how to solve her problem.

  “Yes. A shirt. I think I have one.”

  “Ya think?” she says, and looks around my walk-in closet. It’s nearly the size of a room and everything is perfectly organized with shirts, jeans, suits, and anything else you can think of.

  I walk over and grab a white undershirt, and then hand it to her. I try not to stare at her body while I do it, so I keep looking and then looking away.

  “Thanks, Vanilla,” she says, and winks at me. She’s taunting me with her body and she knows it. I feel sweat break out on my forehead and then she turns to leave.

  “Sweet God almighty,” I say as I watch her walk away. Rebecca has an ass like a Brazilian volleyball player’s. Big, lush, and bouncy. How had I not noticed this before? I guess her plain black work pants didn’t do her any favors.

  I put my hand to my chest to try to keep my heart in place. I won’t survive this.

  I close the door to the closet and move a chair from the vanity in front of the door, wedging it shut. I can’t risk her coming in here while I’m changing. I don’t know what I’d do.

  I take off my clothes and I look down at my black underwear, feeling a little ashamed. I’ve got white precum stains all along the front from today. I look like a fifteen-year old who woke up from a wet dream. I take off the underwear and my hard cock bobs up and down painfully. It points straight up and I can’t help but stroke it a few times to try to ease the ache. She’s on the other side of the door, probably getting ready for a bath, and I wonder if I could look out and see her really quick. Just take a small peek?

  Against my better judgement, and everything inside me, I go over and scoot the chair away from the door. I silently crack the door open just half an inch and look out.

  I stop breathing when I see Rebecca’s back as she bends over the tub. She’s leaning down, testing the water, and her ass is on full display. I can see the bright pink floss peeking out from between her cheeks, and I start touching myself.

  I’m so ashamed, but I’m only looking. She walked around like this earlier, so it’s okay. Right?

  I keep stroking as I focus on that little pink string, and what it would look like if she pulled it to the side. Would she have to hold her ass cheeks apart so I could see all her holes? Would they be a pretty, soft pink like her lips? I wonder what she tastes like. Would she let me put my mouth there? I’ve never done anything sexual, but I think I could figure it out. I would do anything she’d let me, and I would make it so good for her.

  I grip my cock so hard, that it takes me by surprise when I suddenly cum. I feel it shoot out of my cock and down my hands. “Oh God,” I whisper as my cum goes everywhere. I wasn’t planning on this, but God, it feels so good. I glance up and see Rebecca flip around. Before I can see her reaction, I slam the closet door and move the chair back.

  “Just great,” I say to myself and look at the mess I’ve made. I grab my ruined underwear and clean up while shame washes over me. I get dressed in an embarrassed hurry and try to tuck my still-hard cock into fresh underwear. “What is wrong with me?”

  When I exit the closet the bathroom door is open, but I don’t look in.

  “I have a dinner to attend tonight,” I say aloud.

  “Yeah, I remember. I was there ten minutes ago.”

  I hear a little giggle in her voice and I’m mortified.

  “I’ll be back in four hours.”

  “That’s very exact.”

  “I like to keep a schedule. Please make yourself at home. We can go over your duties tomorrow, so for tonight, just relax. You should find everything you need here. If not, please call down to Claude, and he will notify me.”

  “Have fun tonight. Hope you brought ear plugs.”

  I smile a little at her dig, and exit the bedroom. When I walk into the living room I see Cindy is standing and ready to go.

  “Shall we?” she asks with a bit of annoyance in her voice. I guess she isn’t used to waiting.

  “Let’s make this quick. I need to get back as soon as this is over.” Who knows what that woman in my tub is going to do while I’m away.

  BECS

  Holy crap, I think I could do laps in this tub if I wanted. I don’t think I’ve ever been in one this big before. Sinking lower, I let the warm water cover me completely. If I could have gotten him to take me up on the offer of my virginity I could totally do the whole Pretty Woman scene right now. I can’t believe he turned me down. People have offered to pay me for sex before. They see you coming and going into the shelter or a shitty motel and they assume. Why was I so disappointed that he turned me down? Would I have really done it?

  Looking down at myself I know I’m not model pretty. I’m short and curvy all over. My hips are wide and my breasts are full and more than a handful. Maybe I’m just not his type. His world is order and perfection, I’m chaos and anarchy.

  I should be happy. I landed a higher-paying job, I get to look at Mr. Vanilla’s ass a lot more, and I have a solid place to stay for a while. But for some reason I only feel annoyed with myself.

  Cindy. Even thinking her name makes me roll my eyes. She is so…freaking perfect. She fits in with his order and
perfection. Why do I care so much? Oh yeah, because she’s going out with my Mr. Vanilla. My? Fuck me. Yeah, like I ever had a chance with him. He thinks I’m strange, which isn’t far off the mark. I clearly would never fit into his world.

  Leaning back, I quickly rinse out my hair, and wash my body. Grabbing a couple of big fluffy white towels, I wrap one around my body and use another to dry my hair, dropping it on the floor when I’m done.

  The bathroom is completely white, and bigger than my entire rent-by-the-week motel room. There’s not one dash of color anywhere in here. Except for me. The water has remnants of purples and pinks from some of my hair dye washing out, as does the towel I dropped on the floor. Even the tile is spotted with droplets of hair dye, making it look like a unicorn pissed on the floor. For some reason it makes me smile. Maybe because I know that this will probably annoy him as much as I’m annoyed by his date with Cindy. Who knows, maybe it’s not a date.

  Who am I kidding? Between what she was wearing, and his putting on a fresh suit, they were obviously going somewhere nice. Probably some place so nice I couldn’t get a job waiting tables there.

  Grabbing the t-shirt Vanilla gave me off the sink counter, I slip it on. The shirt fits my hips snugly but still drops to mid-thigh, reminding me how tall he is. His body is lean and has more of a runner's build than that of a man who lifts a lot of weights.

  I bet the shirt would be loose on little Miss Cindy, but I’d also wager she hasn’t eaten all week. That thought reminds me I haven’t eaten all day. Making my way towards the kitchen, I can’t help but notice how bland everything is. The penthouse is beautiful with windows that let in the light from the city, but everything seems so emotionless. I walk over to a window and place my forehead against the cold glass as I look out. His place is on the top floor and it’s hard to make anything out, being up so high. I feel my fingers twitch, and I would give anything to have a paint brush right now. It’s been too long.

  Shaking my head at the silly idea of painting, I make my way into the kitchen. I should probably call my brother before he freaks out. It’s still early and I don’t want to forget. Grabbing the phone off the counter, I dial his cell.

  It rings twice before going to voicemail, letting me know I just got the ‘fuck you, ignore’ button, but I’m not surprised. Sam never answers phone numbers he doesn’t recognize. I wish I still had a cell phone so I could just text him, but I guess I’ll just leave a message.

  “Sam, it’s Becs, just wanted to let you know I won’t be home tonight. I landed a sweet new job that comes with room and board and pays a lot more, so I’ll still be able to help with the rent. I’ll come by around ten tomorrow morning so I can give you all the details. I love you and don’t worry. See you tomorrow, and I’ll bring breakfast. Be safe,” I say before hanging up. I wish I could’ve left a number, but maybe he’ll call back using the caller id of the number that came up.

  I hate not being there to make sure he makes it home, too. If he lands himself in jail again, he has no way of getting ahold of me. Or worse, he could end up in the hospital. I love my brother, and though we may not be related by blood, he’s still my brother. He has been for years. Since I was ten years old and he beat the shit out of our foster father when the bastard snuck into my room one night. Sam didn’t come out unscathed. He spent a night in the hospital and had three broken fingers. We got transferred the next day to new homes, and luckily we ended up in the same house. We were always able to land in the same homes after that, until we were old enough to leave on our own. We’ve been jumping from shelter to shelter and the random motels over the past few months.

  I’ve only been on the street for about eight months now, but most of the foster homes felt like living on the streets anyways. It wasn’t a big difference, just with the foster homes you always knew you had a place to lay your head at night. We were just checks to most of them, though. Even the times when I tried to be perfect for them, they still didn’t give a shit. That’s when I stopped caring what people thought about me. My parents didn’t want me, no foster family ever wanted to keep me, but I always had Sam. He’s been my one constant since I was ten.

  He’s been getting himself mixed up in some bad stuff lately. There are certain people you just stay clear of, but Sam can’t seem to do that. He likes to play with the wrong people, which scares the hell out of me. Nico is the worst. He gives me the freaking creeps with the way he looks at me. It reminds me of a few of my foster fathers’ looks. I know he deals, and God knows what else, but Sam just can’t stay away from him. Every time I bring up not hanging out with Nico anymore, he snaps at me. I think he might be doing jobs for him after Nico gave me the money to bail him out of jail. Sam made me get the money from him, and to say the situation of asking Nico for money was easy is putting it mildly. He practically threw it at me. Ever since then, Nico pretends like he has some claim on me. I keep trying to give him the money back but he won’t take it. Now he randomly shows up to places I’m at. At least now he won’t know where I work anymore.

  I took a beating a few months back trying to find Sam at a known drug house I heard he was at. I hadn’t seen him for three days, and I got so worried I went looking for him. It was dumb going in alone, but I had no one else to go with me.

  I got cornered by a couple of guys, and while I was fighting them off, they got a few blows in on me. Luckily the cops showed up, and I managed to get away in the commotion. When I finally made it back to the shelter we’d been staying at, he was there, still strung out. I’m not sure how he got to the shelter, or who let him in. Usually if you look high they boot your ass out.

  Soon after, I got us the motel room. I wanted to keep Sam clean and away from the shelters. It’s easy to get mixed in with the wrong people down there sometimes, but I think he’s still at it. Some of the girls give me shit for always helping him out, but I owe him this. He protected me for years and it’s my turn to return the favor now that I can, even if it is just some crappy motel.

  Opening the fridge, my stomach growls at the contents. All vegetables, fruit and...is that soy milk? I’m really going to have to go to the store if I’m staying here. I need some real food. Grabbing a bowl of grapes and a bottle of water, I pop a couple into my mouth and start searching the drawers.

  Bingo. Finding a cookbook, I pull it out and shuffle through the pages, marking the corner of recipes that catch my attention. When I finally get to the end of the book, I look up and notice the sun has set. I can’t believe how long I took going through that book. I’ve never had a kitchen all to myself to cook in before. I can’t wait to try something out tomorrow on Vanilla.

  Snatching my water and grapes off the counter, I head to my room. When I reach the end of the hall I’m unsure where to go. He didn’t take me up on my offer to sleep with me so he likely wants me to stay in one of the guest rooms. With that thought, I make my way into his room. I set my water and bowl of grapes on the nightstand, throw the covers back, and crawl into his bed. This room is just as boring as the rest of his house. There isn’t even a TV in here. Now that I think about it, I don’t remember seeing a TV anywhere. Who doesn’t have a TV? At least I have the view of the city from the bed, and that’s not so bad.

  The walls are off-white and bare. His closet door is open and I can see all his suits lined up in color order—the color order being gray, blue, and black. Crawling back out of the bed, I enter his closet. It’s like the world’s most boring dream closet and it’s driving me crazy. One by one I move the suits around, disturbing the order. Let’s see how he likes that in the morning. Maybe I’ll wait up and pretend to be sleeping, just to see his reaction to the bathroom and closet, and me in his bed. I don’t know why I’m pushing my luck. He’ll probably just fire me. But today in his office when I poked at him, and he got so worked up, I reveled in the emotion that crossed his face. I want to do it again.

  Lying back, I wait, and as the minutes pass by, I can’t stop thinking what he might be doing with Cindy. Did he decide to
go home with her because he didn’t want to come back and deal with me? Some of the foster parents chose to just ignore you, and for some reason their silence was worse than the ones that screamed at you.

  I feel like I’m on a cloud. I open my eyes, and it takes me a minute to adjust to all the light in the room. The bright sun bounces off the white walls, making everything brighter than it should be. Sitting up, I look around to see where Vanilla is. Maybe he didn’t come home. The thought makes a lump form in my throat. Dragging myself from the world’s most comfortable bed, I make my way to the bathroom to handle my business. I’m not his mother. I can’t be upset he didn’t come home last night.

  Then I notice the towel I left on the floor is gone. I rush to the closet, I slide the door open, and all his suits are back in order. A smile spreads across my face. Not because he put everything back the way it was, but because this means he came home. I wonder if he slept with me too. The idea of him sliding into bed with me sends a thrill through me. I was sure I was going to be woken up and told to move my ass to another room.

  I search the rest of the penthouse for him with no luck, until I spot a note on the kitchen counter. Next to the note is some cash, a credit card, and a cell phone. Swiping my finger across the phone, I see the backdrop is a picture of a fairy. Odd. Pulling up the contacts, I see there are two numbers saved. Bray Cell & Bray Office.

  I snatch up the note and see his perfect handwriting.

  Be home around 7. I left some cash for you to pay for the motel, and a credit card for anything else you might need.

  I’m disappointed at its simplicity. No ‘call me’ or a word about last night. His not acknowledging it bugs me.