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I wake in confusion. Pain throbs along my skull and brings back the memory of tequila shots with Becca at the club last night and the many glasses of vodka that followed. Fingers pressed to my temples I roll over to see David’s business card perched on my bedside table and feel a smile slowly spread across my face before I flush hot with embarrassment at the thought of what we did last night. Did I really ask a man back to my apartment and practically have sex with him?
Picking up the heavy cream card I hold it delicately between thumb and forefinger, careful not to bend it.
Founder & CEO
Morgan Software Solutions
Flipping it over I see his address scribbled across the back – The Brolga, St Kilda Road, Southbank and the time 7pm written above it. Seeing his writing brings back the memory of those hands pressed roughly against my skin, his thumbs disappearing inside of me. Clenching my thighs together tightly I tremble as the memory of last night’s orgasm shivers through me. For the first time I’m starting to imagine myself in a relationship with a man. David is intelligent, funny, handsome, but right now all I can think of is getting him into bed and finally losing my virginity. For the first time I’m grateful that Becca convinced me to go on birth control with her. Her philosophy is that you should always use at least two forms of contraception since nothing is 100% reliable in order to sway the odds in your favour.
The slamming of the front door jolts me out of my reverie and as I hear stumbling and the sound of crashing glass I realise that I may have left the bottle of vodka on the floor last night. I look up guiltily as Becca storms into my bedroom.
“Ella, you slut! Two glasses on the table, two! Did you have a boy over last night?” she asks, her mouth open in shock.
“Kind of,” I admit. Though the thought of describing David as a ‘boy’ seems somewhat inadequate. “Hey, aren’t you the one supposed to be doing the walk of shame here?”
“Trust me, I feel no shame whatsover,” she smirks.
“Yeah, I’d believe that.”
“So… what happened after I left the club?” she asks, flopping down on the bed next to me.
“Well, I left after you did and went to that bookstore across the road and he kind of offered to carry my books home.” I flush, not wanting to admit what we did after he walked me home. “Anyway, he’s totally gorgeous and really sweet and he’s invited me over for dinner tonight.”
“He invited you to his house! For dinner!” Becca squeals.
“He’s awfully nice Becca, it’s just a date.”
“Nice as in he carried my books home and I’m grateful or he gave me the best orgasm of my life kind of nice?”
“Both,” I smile sheepishly.
“I don’t know about you going to his apartment alone Ella. What if he takes advantage of you?”
“Becca, I want him to take advantage of me.”
“Fine, then what if he’s an axe murderer?”
“Because you knew so much about Justin when you went home with him last night.”
“That’s different, Justin is scrawny. I could totally take him in a fight.”
“I don’t think he’s an axe murderer. I mean, he gave me his business card. Axe murderers don’t have business cards, do they?”
“Ooh… let’s look him up!” she snatches the card from my fingers and runs out of the room to her laptop.
“Becca, I don’t want to stalk him before we even have our first date!” I yell as I run after her.
“You’re not,” she says with a devilish grin. “I am.”
Her brow creases as she scrolls through the search results. “What?” I ask. “Is he showing up as a wanted felon or something? He wouldn’t use his real name if he was a criminal would he?” I knew he was too good to be true.
“Ella, you have to see this,” she says, her eyes wide in disbelief.
I look nervously over her shoulder and see over 20 pages of results for David Morgan. Pushing Becca’s hand out of the way I scroll through the list. Newspaper articles, pictures from the social pages, gushing testimonials from customers, the list goes on. It seems David doesn’t have the small business I’d originally imagined but is the founder of a company that designs software used by major banks across the world. The guy is a genius.
“Wow,” I say biting my nails nervously.
“This is the guy?” Becca squeaks, pointing at one of the pictures. “He’s kind of hot, in an older I have daddy issues kind of way,” she says and I nod absently without hearing her. How can I go on a date with a veritable genius? He should be dating other geniuses and having deep, intellectual discussions not drinking cheap whisky in my lounge room.
“Aw sweetie, don’t worry.” Becca squeezes me into a tight hug. “He’s still the same person he was last night. I’m sorry I looked him up it’s just not like you to bring someone home and I wanted to make sure he was good enough for you. Turns out he is!” she laughs and I give her a weak smile.
“I could have told you that, I didn’t need to know all of this. I’ve got to get ready for work. Besides, you can’t believe bahis firmaları everything you read on the internet.”
The office is quiet when I arrive and I take a moment to down two aspirin and three glasses of water to ease the pounding headache raging just below my hairline. My boss arrives at 9am sharp and the switchboard lights up with a dozen phone calls. I’m exhausted and the day hasn’t even started. I’m beginning to remember why I normally don’t drink this much.
“Hold all my calls will you Ella?” he barks, his face ruddy with anger, storming into his office slamming the door behind him.
“Good morning Mr Gibson,” I smile sweetly at his closed door instead of saying what I really want to.
Sometimes I need to remind myself how lucky I am to have a part time office job that fits around my university schedule. My friends think I chat on the phone all day and browse the internet, but let’s face it being a receptionist sucks and is far more about babysitting your boss and screening calls from cranky clients than it is about having fun.
I’m steeling myself to start making Mr Gibson’s morning double espresso when my phone vibrates in my pocket. Glancing at the caller ID I see that it’s a message from David and my pulse starts to beat in my ears, my hands trembling. Biting my lip I open the message and read it twice in confusion.
Slight change of plans, I’ve made reservations for two at Le Royale. Will pick you up at 7pm – David
Oh no, did he wake up this morning and decide he didn’t want me in his home? Is this a bad sign? I twirl my hair around my finger and try to compile a short pro/con list of what could be going through his head when Dylan the new sales agent interrupts my thoughts, his heavy thumbs tapping on the top of the reception desk bringing me back to reality.
“Sorry, you caught me daydreaming,” I admit. “Can I help you with something?”
“I need the keys for the apartment being listed on Exhibition Street next week,” he smiles at me. “No rush, don’t want to interrupt any exciting daydreams.”
I laugh and turn to the key safe, thumbing through the muddle of keys to find the right one.
“Do you have any plans for tonight?” Dylan asks.
“Well, apparently I’m going to Le Royale,” I gesture toward my phone in frustration.
“The Le Royale that opened last month and already has a two month waiting list for a table?” he whistles in appreciation.
“Sounds like somebody wants to impress you. Hot date?” he guesses.
“Kind of,” I blush as I hand him the key.
“I was going to invite you out for a drink but there’s no way the bar downstairs can compete with a reservation at Le Royale. Maybe another time?” he suggests, smiling ruefully.
“Maybe…” I say distractedly, turning to read the message from David one more time before responding.
Can’t wait to see you again tonight. xx Ella
I have just enough time after work to shower and change. I’ve scrubbed and perfumed almost every inch of my body and have never felt more excited to see someone in my life. There’s something about this man with his curious smile that makes me feel safe and exhilarated all at once. I’ve decided not to over think the change of plans and I’m looking forward to seeing what all the buzz is about the restaurant. For once I’ll be able to try the latest Melbourne ‘it’ restaurant before the hype is over. I’ve dressed to impress in my favourite black dress, the deep v neckline gives just a peek of cleavage before it cinches in tight at the waist. Patent black stilettos complete the outfit and coaxing my hair into graceful waves instead of its usual frizzy curls provides the finishing touch. Tonight I look less slutty and more pinup girl, my nerves seem to be gone and all I feel is a sense of anticipation and an overwhelming excitement pulses through my body in time with the beat of my heart.
Becca does a double take when she sees me. “Wow, you look great! Aren’t you going to be a little overdressed for dinner at his apartment though?”
“He’s taking me to Le Royale instead,” I say.
“Ooh la la,” she says raising her eyebrows, clearly impressed. “Maybe I need to find a Mr Moneybags of my own to take me out to swanky restaurants.”
“Becca, don’t.” I warn her, “I don’t even know if it’s true and anyway, that kind of thing shouldn’t matter.”
“It does though, doesn’t it?” she asks quietly.
“Oh, I don’t even know any more!”
“Just relax, you over think everything. I was only teasing,” she says and cocking her head to the side she purses her lips thoughtfully. “Hang on a second, I have the perfect thing for that outfit,” she says and runs from the room.
Tapping my foot impatiently I check the time – 6.58 as she comes running back into the room wielding a tube of lipstick and a small mirror.
“Will only be a sec,” she says running the lipstick over my mouth quickly, holding the mirror up to my face as I press my lips together to even it out. My lips are now a kaçak iddaa shocking red, stark against the black of my outfit. Something about the red seems just slightly naughty and licking my lips I imagine red lipsticked marks trailing after my kisses across David’s body.
An impressively sleek black car pulls up to the curb as I step onto the street. David gets out of the driver’s side dressed in another black suit and his blue eyes crinkle in a warm smile as he sees me. My heart leaps into my throat and I barely remember to give him a delicate wave as I walk to him. He’s even better looking than I remember with those deep blue eyes giving me that look that leaves me stuttering.
“Hi Ella,” he says, leaning down to kiss my cheek. “You look beautiful.”
“Hi,” I breathe, kissing him softly on the lips. He kisses me back gently and I shiver, wishing we were going straight back to his apartment instead of to a crowded restaurant.
“Nice car, very shiny,” I say.
“That’s just what I was going for. When I walked into the dealership I said to the guy, give me the shiniest car you have,” he says, struggling to remain straight face
“OK fine, so I know nothing about cars.”
“That’s OK. I didn’t expect you to,” he says, opening the door for me.
I slide into the car and the fine leather seats and wood panelling of the interior makes me feel suddenly intimidated.
“It’s a Mercedes E63,” he says as he slips into the driver’s seat.
“The car,” he explains patiently.
“Oh, right,” I nod and our conversation breaks into awkward silence.
“Sorry about the change of plans, I just really wanted to take you somewhere special,” he says.
“You did?” I squeak.
“I want us to get to know each other properly. I have a habit of rushing into things and I want us to take things slowly.”
“Oh,” I say feeling disappointed. Does this mean that my chances of having my clothes ripped off and being ravished tonight have dropped? Is this because I’m a virgin? My thoughts are racing and I barely notice as he manoeuvres the car through the busy streets and parks in front of a mirrored glass building.
The restaurant is breathtaking. It’s located on the top floor of the building with a sweeping view of the bay and the city lights twinkle against the night sky. David ushers me through the foyer, his warm hand heavy against the small of my back, past a waiting line and we’re shown straight to a table near the window. Stitched leather cloth tops the tables, silver cutlery glowing against the black of the leather. The tables are angled to make the most of the view, David is within touching distance, both of our chairs facing the Yarra river and I’m mesmerised by the heat of his body and the view of the city. I’ve never been anywhere like this before and I’m out of my depth, unsure what conversation suits such a sophisticated setting.
“Sorry, it’s a bit ostentatious but the food is supposed to be incredible,” he says. His hands grip the silverware and as his shirt cuffs glide up I notice the hairs on the back of his wrist and feel an impulse to stroke them and see if they feel rough or smooth against my skin.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” I shake out my napkin trying to dislodge these thoughts from my mind.
“First course is served.” The waiter appears out of nowhere, discretely placing the food on the table before leaving us alone once again.
I look at the plate curiously, it appears to be artfully arranged thin slices of bread with flowers piped onto the top with some kind of spread and I look at David, eyebrow arched in query.
“They have a set degustation menu,” he explains.
“Ah,” I nod. I have no idea what that means but I’m guessing it means lots of tiny food. I select a piece from the delicate tray and place it on my tongue. It’s delicious but I can’t think about food when inside I feel frozen, wondering if anything will happen tonight and when he’s going to realise that he is way out of my league.
“You’re awfully quiet today, is everything ok?” he asks with a look of concern.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were some kind of business genius? Your software is used by Fortune 500 companies. Look at you, you’re probably rich and I earn minimum wage!” I blurt out in a rush.
He tries to smother a chuckle and I glare at him
“This isn’t funny! I feel like everything I’m about to say is stupid and boring and a waste of your time. You should be going on a date with an intellectual or someone fancy like a model instead of me.”
“I’m afraid you’re wildly misinformed about who I date and I am most certainly not a genius,” he chuckles. “My company does have contracts with Fortune 500 companies but that took a long time and a lot of hard work to put in place. I only want to be here with you, you’re not wasting my time. Trust me,” he says, placing his hand over mine and I melt, looking him in the eyes for the first time today.
“Why do you really want to take things slowly?” I ask. I’m a mess kaçak bahis of anticipation and just want to finish what we started last night.
“I don’t want you to think of me as a one night stand, I want more than that. I’m not going to rush you into anything Ella. You’re so young, I know how easy it is to get swept up in the moment and I don’t want you to have any regrets.”
“Don’t you think that’s for me to decide?” I ask softly and place my hand over his, my finger tracing over the hairs on his wrist like I’ve wanted to all night and I discover that the hair is softer than it looks.
“I don’t think that would be a good idea” he says, tucking my hair behind my ear and kissing me softly on the tip of my nose.
“I’m not a child, I know what I want. Don’t you find me attractive?” I ask, biting my lip, worried that this is the real problem here.
“Oh Ella, I think you’re incredibly attractive. Very sexy,” he groans and I feel his hand beneath the table surprising me as it slides up my leg, stopping just above my knee.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asks looking deep into my eyes as if searching for his answer and I stare back at him transfixed as his hand climbs higher, thumb brushing the top of my thigh, blushing deeply as wetness burns along my undies and my heart beats louder in my ears.
“Can we go to your place now?” I ask, my voice catching in my throat.
“You’re not hungry?” he asks with a smile as his fingers slip under the lace of my undies, touching the heat of my skin.
“How many more courses are there?” I gulp as his fingers slip in further, dipping into my wetness.
“Nine I think,” he says, moving his chair closer to kiss my neck.
“No, definitely not hungry.” I sigh as his fingers find a rhythm and I’m trembling and flushed and ready to come right there in the middle of the restaurant when abruptly he removes his hand and slides back his chair.
“Come on, let’s go,” he offers me his hand slick with my wetness and I clutch it tightly between my fingers, my pulse beating loudly between my legs as we walk back to the car.
The five minute drive between the restaurant and his apartment feels like an eternity. Each look we give each other is heated and full of promise. Although we don’t touch, the looks between us are becoming part of the foreplay. I look at him beneath my lashes, noticing his hands gripping the wheel tightly and I’m glad he appears to have left behind his misgivings. He seems to be considering running a red light and I stifle a giggle at his urgency as he skids to a stop. He gives me a mock look of admonishment as he realises I’m laughing at him and takes the opportunity to look down at my cleavage and I shift position, feeling wanton as I angle toward him to give him a better look.
He pulls the car into a basement car park on St Kilda Road and I forget to breathe for a moment as I realise soon we’ll be alone in private and able to act on all of the thoughts that are racing through my mind. He leads me toward a lift and enters a pin code beneath a plaque with his name beside the door. Oh my God, the man has his own private lift. I’m completely out of my depth and find myself frozen with indecision until I feel his finger under my chin and tipping my head up he plants another of those deep, soul eating kisses on my lips.
The lift doors open and as soon as they close behind us I press myself tight against him, nipples straining against the fabric of my dress and lean up on tip toes to kiss him. I kiss him the way he makes me feel – like a desperate addict in need of a fix and as my tongue flicks against his he groans and his arms surround my waist lifting me against him. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him deeper before pulling back. Moistening my lips with my tongue I notice my red lipsticked prints over his neck and see that I’ve branded him with kisses. Mine.
We’re in his apartment and I can’t remember how we got here from the lift. I get a vague impression of a large room with floor to ceiling windows before I feel David nipping my neck with his teeth and he growls “bedroom’s this way,” as he lifts me over his shoulder and I squeal as he whisks me into his bedroom.
He lays me down on the bed and I realise this is real, this is it. I start to remove my dress and stop, suddenly shy. “I-I’m not sure what to do,” I admit.
“That’s OK, I’ve done this before,” he says with a grin. “Let me help.”
He unbuttons his shirt and shucks off his pants, leaving his clothes in a puddle on the floor and moves toward me clad only in his boxer shorts. I stand there staring at him as he begins to undress me. His hands are soft and gentle as he unzips my dress and slides it down over my shoulders, kissing my naked skin as the dress moves down to my hips. Feeling more relaxed I wriggle my way out of the dress and help him remove my bra, my undies and I’m standing there naked in my stilettos when he pushes me onto the bed and slides off my shoes, massaging my calves and kissing my toes as he drops them to the floor.
He flips me onto my stomach and leans over me, chest pressing into my back, his hardness against the swell of my arse. “God you smell good. Are you sure this is what you want?” he asks, his voice husky.
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