All Work And No Play...
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You have good shoes. You should wear heels. They’re very sexy.
I should definitely wear good shoes. What else?
A dress. Something that doesn’t hide your body.
High heels and a clingy dress. Got it. Should I wear fancy underwear? Forget it, don’t answer that, of course I should.
Jonny nearly fell off his chair.
‘What colour?’ he asked aloud, his voice hoarse, but didn’t type it. Instead, he pictured it. White lace on that porcelain skin. Black satin hugging the curves of her buttocks. Pink silk pushing up her sweet breasts, barely covering her nipples.
He didn’t care what colour, actually. His blood had rushed to his crotch and he was sporting a hard-on of epic proportions.
If he spent the entire date knowing Jane was wearing fancy underwear just for him, he was going to have difficulty standing up and walking without attracting attention.
Okay, so how should I behave?
The ding of Jane’s message broke him out of his reverie, though it couldn’t distract him completely.
Just be yourself, Jane. No man could ask for more.
You’re very sweet, Jonny, but I need more information. Should I be flirtatious? Seductive? How do I do it?
The thoughts about Jane’s underwear didn’t go away, but he also remembered her at lunch today. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her. Jane had tried to act normally, talking with Thom, pretending to study the menu and appreciate her food—but he’d caught her attention wandering back to him, again and again. She’d looked in his eyes just a little too long when they’d spoken to each other; she’d cast quick, fluttering glances at his body.
Since he’d started modelling he’d become used to glances like that from women, but Jane was different. Every glance from her had heated his skin with desire—and, more than that, her eyes on him had made him feel like laughing out loud with happiness.
The mutual attraction between them was the best thing that had happened to him for a very long time. He typed:
I mean it. Just be yourself. You’re seductive without any help.
And you’re not BEING any help, Jonny. I need to know how to be sexy. What would you think if a woman did something like leaning forward on the table to mistakenly/deliberately show you her cleavage? Or is that too tacky?
Jonny swallowed. Jane Miller, the girl of his dreams, deliberately leaning forward in her clingy dress, showing him her cleavage in her ‘fancy underwear’ …
That would work.
What else? I’m bad at this, remember. Tell me what you like.
Oh, dear Lord. Jonny took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and typed without looking at the laptop, because his inner vision behind his eyelids was showing Jane, doing every little thing she could do to turn him on.
Cross your legs, let your skirt ride up a little, laugh, lean back in your chair. Wear your hair loose and twist a strand of it around your finger. Reach out, with small touches, a stroke on my arm or hand. Throw back your head in that adventurous way that you have. Get close, let us breathe the same air. Let your eyes show how you feel.
He opened his eyes only to press ‘send’, and he watched his words appear in the dialogue box.
In black-and-white, the words looked different than they had in his head. Starker. More like orders, rather than fantasy.
His heart rate sped up, partly with anxiety, but mostly with excitement. His blood pounded through his body and heated his limbs and made his erection pulse in his trousers.
His adventurous Jane, the fearless girl who climbed trees and jumped into pools of water without looking first. Was she playing with him, teasing him? Was she really as uncertain as she said?
She’d made the first move by asking him out, and now she was taking it further before they even met again, and either motivation appealed to him. He could play with her or he could reassure her. Or he could do both. He could tell her what he wanted from her, as he’d never done with any other woman before, because what he wanted most from her was that she be herself.
Unless, of course, she didn’t like what he’d written.
The seconds stretched into minutes. Jonny shifted in his seat, adjusting the fit of his trousers. The hotel-room chair wasn’t all that comfortable, especially for a desperately turned on man glued to his laptop. He pictured Jane sitting in her flat, reading the words he’d written, picturing the two of them together, maybe her brow furrowed a little, thinking about what she would do.
He raised his hands to the keyboard to ask if she was still there, but then saw that she was typing, and her answer appeared.
Okay. I can do that. But I have another question. What do you think about kissing?
A sound escaped Jonny’s throat, half a laugh, half a gasp of surprise.
I like it a lot.
His mouth was in a wide smile as he typed, his head shaking in disbelief that he was having this conversation online.
But what about a first kiss? What should it be like? Should it be all chaste and sweet, or should there be tongues involved? Do you just promise something, or do you really get into it and get all passionate? What do you think?
I rather think it might depend on the circumstances.
Jonny was actually breathless as he typed, he noticed with the part of his brain that was still rational. He continued:
You know, what feels right at the time.
He hit ‘send’, and then couldn’t help typing:
Personally I like passion. What do you want out of a first kiss, Jane?
The answer came back in seconds.
I want it all.
He had to stand up and walk around the room, because those four words on his screen made him feel as if he wanted to explode, as if he didn’t want to wait for eight o’clock and seeing Jane in the restaurant, but instead get a cab straight to her address and when she answered the door grab her and give her a kiss that had all the passion she could ever want.
When he typed, his hands were shaking slightly.
You can have it all, Jane.
And do you think we should have sex with each other?
He could barely respond.
Do you want to?
You know, I think I do.
Jonny didn’t move or breathe. He was normally a visual person, but the fantasy that filled his mind wasn’t just a picture. It was a full-body imagining of what it would feel like to have Jane’s smooth, bare skin against his. How her breasts and hips would feel under his hands, the gasp she would make as he touched her. The weight of her leg twined around his as they lay together. A soft giggle in his ear. Her mouth, soft as petals, her little hands stroking up his back. And the wet, tight heat inside her.
He groaned aloud.
Tell me one more thing, Jonny, just for information, and then I’ll leave you in peace for now. What’s your wildest fantasy?
He was being driven insane by desire and he typed furiously, without slowing down to let his brain think about what he was communicating.
We can’t wait for dinner to be over. We get up and leave together and when we’re outside, in the cool spring air, we immediately touch each other. We slide our hands inside each other’s clothing and we touch whatever skin we can, kissing and exploring and not caring about the other people walking past us in the evening. Our clothes are in the way but that’s exciting, too, because every touch promises even more.
He pressed ‘send’ and kept on typing without a break.
And we’re laughing, Jane, and we hail a taxi and go to the closest possible place where we fall through the door and pull our clothes aside, don’t even bother to take them off, and have the hottest sex in the world up against the nearest wall.
As he typed he felt it. Jane’s impatient hands on his belt, pushing aside his trousers and taking hold of his erection. Him pressing her against the wall, holding her there while she wrapped her legs around his waist and he nudged aside her dress and suckled her breast, hard. Her strangled cry of pleasure. How their bodies would thrust together and how they would climax with a noise half of ecstasy, half of amazed amusement.
And then we would spend the rest of the night taking it slow, exploring, talking. Sharing and getting to know each other again.
He took a long, shaky breath, and looked back at what he had typed.
It took a moment for his eyes to focus, and then the impact of his words registered in his brain.
He’d just had cyber sex with Jane.
He lifted his hand to his mouth and bit the side of his finger. His heartbeat throbbed almost painfully even in this little piece of him. Inside his boxers, his penis was like a rod of red-hot iron, pulsing and insistent and wanting to rob him of every single bit of his intellect and conscience and modesty.
What had he just done?
She’d asked for his fantasy. Not what he’d actually planned on doing this evening, which was having a terrific date and seeing how they felt about each other. Not what he thought was probably best for them to do, which was talk about how she felt about her break-up and decide to take it easy until she very definitely wasn’t on the rebound.
No. She’d asked for his wildest fantasy and he’d given it to her, including groping in public and sex up against a wall.
And she was probably about to give him the internet equivalent of a slap in the face.
He shifted in his seat again, intensely uncomfortable. She wasn’t replying. Maybe she was too disgusted. Maybe she was so angry she was waiting to meet him in person before she slapped him.
Maybe she was as turned on as he was.
His laptop dinged.
Thanks, Jonny. Talk to you soon.
Jonny jumped up and paced the hotel room. He couldn’t walk quite as he normally did because his hard-on was becoming distinctly bothersome.
Thanks? What did that mean? Thanks, but no thanks? Thanks for showing me what you’re really like, you lech? Thanks for giving me evidence I can take to the police?
Thanks for the fantasy, you hot stud, it was exactly what I was thinking myself, and I’ll be ripping my clothes off as soon as we get to that wall?
Jonny had always liked the internet and the freedom it gave you to meet new people, discover things, and make contact in a way that had never been possible before.
Now, he could see its downside. What was the point of a mode of communication that didn’t allow you to see the person you were talking to? That relied on words rather than tone of voice, electronic representations rather than bodies?
He checked his watch. Half an hour, and he’d know what Jane meant by ‘Thanks’.
CHAPTER THREE
JANE asked the cab to stop at the end of the street so she could walk to the restaurant and cool down a little bit.
As she walked Jane plucked at the neckline of her dress, lower than she was used to. She’d bought it for a Pearce Grey cocktail party a year ago, and never worn it because at the last minute she’d decided that a suit would be more professional. But tonight she’d dug it out, on Jonny’s advice.
Jonny’s advice. Her stomach spiralled as she thought about following it. Imagine grabbing Jay and pulling him into a cab, with the full intention of having frantic sex with him as soon as they got to her flat. This beautiful, perfect man.
Her legs swished against each other as she walked in her high heels, arousing her even more. Meeting Jay this afternoon, and then Jonny’s unexpected words on the laptop, had conjured up images in her head that were almost shockingly explicit. She wouldn’t quite have expected it of Jonny, not something so blatantly sexy. But then again, in the past, their online relationship had been a little flirty, but mostly friendly. She’d made it clear she had a fiancé.
For all she knew, Jonathan Cole was a sex god in real life, or at least he had the imagination of one. Maybe he had a steady stream of women who were turned on by computer geniuses in glasses, and he was doing them all up against a variety of walls all over the north of England.
The thought made her smile, and it also made a twinge of jealousy tickle deep in her chest. Because Jonny’s words had struck something in her, had interested her more than just anybody’s sexual fantasy would’ve done.
It was an insight into Jonny she’d never had before … and also an insight into her own desires. Every single thing he had described had sounded exciting and perfect and right, even though she’d never done anything like that before.
And it bothered her a little bit that he might be describing his experience with someone else. Even though she fully intended to experience it with someone else, too.
Jane paused at the door of the wine bar where she’d arranged to meet Jay before dinner, and took a deep breath. It was very difficult to believe she had a date with a male model, and even more difficult to believe that she planned to seduce him, if she could.
She pushed open the door. The bar was crowded, but she spotted him immediately, as if she had been programmed to find him.
He wore a stylish dark suit and a patterned white shirt, open at the collar. His brown hair was short and casually styled. He’d shaved and without a shadow of a beard his jaw was even stronger and more defined, emphasising his cheekbones.
She bit her lip, and then remembered she would ruin her lipstick.
He checked his watch; his expression looked a little anxious, and that gave Jane a boost of confidence. He was waiting for her. When he looked around the room she stepped forward and approached the table.
Jay stood when he saw her and strode to meet her, and his smile took her breath away.
‘You came,’ he said, and his voice sounded almost comically relieved. He kissed her on her cheek, and she could smell the subtle scent of his shaving lotion. His lips were gentle and welcoming and they made a shiver run through her.
He stood back and looked her over, from head to foot. She’d been aroused walking in here, but under his gaze she felt her nipples hardening inside her silk bra, and felt a bolt of warmth between her legs.
‘You look fantastic,’ he said.
‘Thank you.’ With him looking at her like that, she could almost believe it. He was a charmer, she knew, but she could use all the confidence she could get, especially when in the company of a physically perfect male who was wearing a suit that fitted as if it were made for him.
‘You look great,’ she told him, because he really did, though she was also sure he heard that all the time.
She was a little surprised when his cheeks flushed slightly with pleasure. ‘Thanks,’ he said, and took her hand to lead her to the table, where he pulled out a chair for her.
He’d done that twice today, she remembered. She worked with men all the time and they rarely did anything like that. It was a totally unnecessary courtesy, a little bit of gender conditioning that she would normally laugh at, but just this minute it felt nice.
She sat in her chair and crossed her legs, letting her skirt slide up her bare thighs. She saw Jay notice, and saw him swallow.
Thank you, Jonny, she thought.
‘I was worried you wouldn’t show up,’ he said as he sat down. ‘I thought you’d decide I was coming on too strong and run in the opposite direction.’
‘I’m the one who invited you out, remember?’
A waitress appeared. ‘Do you fancy a glass of champagne?’ Jay asked Jane. ‘I feel that we’ve got a lot to celebrate.’
She nodded, and the waitress disappeared. ‘I don’t usually drink champagne,’ Jay said, with a short laugh. ‘Then again, I don’t normally wear suits, either. One of the few perks of the modelling job is that I get to keep some of the clothes, but I don’t get much call to dress up in my day-to-day life.’
‘I’m not really a dress person, either,’ Jane admitted.
‘I’m glad you wore it, though.’ His voice was quiet, intense, and Jane wanted to bite her lip and melt into a puddle. Instead, she remembered Jonny’s advice and twisted a strand of her hair loosely around her finger.
He noticed, and moistened his lips with his tongue. ‘Jane, that is really working,’ he said. He reached his hand out as if he were about to touch her, and then the waitress came back with their drinks.
They lifted their glasses, and touched the rims together. ‘Here’s to seeing you,’ Jay said.
‘You too.’ Jane took a sip of champagne, wondering if it would give her a bit more courage. ‘I never thought I’d be out on a date with a male model.’
‘Ah. Well, yes.’ Jay put down his glass, and leaned forward on the table. ‘I want to tell you about that. It’s strictly temporary.’
‘Really?’ She suppressed dismay that he wanted to discuss business. ‘Does this mean you wouldn’t be available for a follow-up Giovanni Franco campaign?’
He raised his hands. ‘I’m—it depends. I wouldn’t leave you in the lurch, Jane. But it’s not the campaign I’m talking about, it’s me. I want to be honest with you and tell you why I’m modelling in the first place. It’s not a career I would’ve ever chosen for myself.’
‘Okay,’ she said, wondering why he was talking about this, and leaning back in her chair with her glass of champagne.
‘Okay,’ he repeated after her. He took a deep breath and laid his hands on the table, gazing at them, and Jane was surprised that his expression was apprehensive, as if he were gearing himself up to say something difficult to her.
He raised his head and looked straight at her. ‘I loved my dad,’ he said.
Jay said the four words with such clarity and vehemence that Jane blinked. ‘All right,’ she said, slowly, wondering why Jay, a near stranger, was telling her this on their first date.
‘He was my hero,’ Jay continued. ‘I thought he was everything a man should be. He seemed so honourable, so upright. He worked hard and he always had time to give me advice, and he adored my mother, I was sure he did. You could tell it by the way he looked at her, how he spoke to her. I thought he never wanted anything but to protect her.’
He met her eyes again, as if testing whether she understood what he was trying to say. Jane nodded, and, although she was still wondering why he was telling her this, his dark blue eyes were so full of sincerity and emotion that she couldn’t question him too much. This was important to Jay, and for some reason it was also important to him that he told her about it.
It was unusual, but it was a kind of trust.
‘I was devastated when he died. Not as much as my mother was. As she is.’
He lapsed into thought for a moment, and then shook his head and ran his hand through his short hair. ‘Anyway, she was in no state to go through his affairs, so I did it for her when I got back. And, Jane—’ he rumpled his hair again, looking at Jane with pain in his features ‘—he’d left nothing. Everything was gone. The business, the property, all of it was mortgaged up to the hilt, and he had debts and loans adding up to thousands and thousands of pounds.’
Jane put down her drink and stared at Jay.
He was being totally sincere. Every word he said told her how hurt he was. She could tell, not only from the content of what he was saying, but also from his expression, how he spoke, the timbre of his voice. This man wasn’t just worried about his parents’ financial situation; he felt betrayed, disillusioned, bitterly disappointed.
‘How did it happen?’ she asked.
‘A combination of things, though I’m not sure of all of it. Some of it was risky investment. Some of it was business losses that he borrowed more money to cover. A lot of it was gambling. Online poker, among other things. He must have been doing it in secret for years.’
She put her hand on his. ‘That’s awful. I’m so sorry.’
Jay nodded. ‘I haven’t told my mother. I couldn’t bear to destroy her image of him. And I know he didn’t mean to leave her in such debt; he’d had heart problems but his death was sudden. But I’ve had to do some scrambling to buy some time to repay the loans, and I need to do everything I possibly can to make money. I’ve done some extra consultancy work, and taken on some extra projects, and then when Thom started bugging me again to do some modelling for him, I said yes, even though it was something I never really wanted to do.’
‘So you’re modelling just to pay your father’s debts.’
‘Yes.’ He let out a long breath, and smiled at her. Not the million-watt model smile, but a dimmer, sadder one. ‘It feels good to tell you about it. Thom doesn’t know. Nobody knows. My mother thinks I’ve suddenly developed a love of having my photograph taken.’
She squeezed his hand. ‘I know what it’s like to keep a secret,’ she said. ‘It shouldn’t be hard, because all you have to do is keep your mouth shut and act normal. But it is.’
She thought about the past few days at work, seeing Gary, knowing what had happened between them, and pretending that everything was all right.
‘It feels better once you’ve told somebody,’ she said, remembering the relief she’d felt typing her problems to Jonny.
He turned his hand over so he was clasping hers. ‘It feels better now I’ve told you.’
Why me? she was about to ask, and then she looked from their clasped hands to his face. There was warmth in his eyes, gentleness and earnestness in his mouth, and every line was familiar in that unexpected way.
This intimacy had been between them since they’d first seen each other, and although Jane couldn’t explain it, she couldn’t deny it, either.
Instead she bit her lip and nodded.
‘You’re so beautiful, Jane,’ Jay murmured, his dark blue eyes still looking into hers. The air around them thickened, time seemed to slow even though her pulse sped up. He was so close, she was sharing every breath he took.
Jonny’s words swam into her mind. He’d described this moment. And then he’d described what could happen afterwards.
She could have her mouth on this man’s mouth, his hands on her, lifting her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist, pushing her clothing aside so he could enter her. Fast and hard and breathless.
The idea, the imagined feeling, throbbed inside her.
She didn’t know Jay. And she didn’t know if the way he made her feel was just part of his natural charm, a normal reaction of every female to his looks and his behaviour.
But she did know she wanted him. And he appeared to want her, too.
She had been engaged for eight months and had never felt even remotely this turned on. And after the hell of the past few days, after the habit and hard work of the past few years, this seemed too miraculous not to seize with both hands.
Jane lifted her free hand to Jay’s face. She touched his left cheekbone and ran her fingertips down over his skin, over the place where his smile dug grooves in his cheek, close to the side of his mouth. His skin was smooth and almost shockingly warm. He tilted his head slightly, as if to press her fingers closer.
‘I don’t think I want dinner,’ she said, and heard that her voice had become husky.
‘Me neither.’
They stood at the same time, their hands still clasped. Jay dropped a note on the table and they walked out of the bar together, saying nothing. Jane was aware of every part of her body: the way her high heels made her hips sway, the brushing of her bare thighs together under her dress, the soft material of her skirt against her legs, the way her breasts moved slightly as she walked. Her fingers, twined with Jay’s, which were long and strong and sinewy.