Truth Meets Love Read online

  I could feel the size of the "gun" this outlaw was packing and I got squishy. I squeezed my thighs and I couldn't help it; I had to touch it. I performed a slide move that pulled our hands to the back of his thigh, up to his ass cheek. I pulled my stomach forward. His grip on my hip released and I slid my left hand behind me and down the inside of his thigh, then back up over his length as I pressed the back of my body, moving up and back down with the motion of my hand on his cock. His hand ran up to my breast and applied pressure as his lips travelled my neck to meet my mouth.

  I don't know what possessed me, but I couldn't get enough of him. I moved our right clasped hands forward and down to the bottom of my skirt on my thigh and dragged them up, inviting him to touch me. When he hesitated slightly, I pulled his cock in my left hand down and pushed up back against him, effectively nudging his hand over my sex, and I felt his body seize and his heart thud against my back--I assume the moment he realized I had a barbell pierced just above my clit.

  Something seemed to have snapped his restraint. His fingers were hidden beneath the fall of my skirt and the dim lights of the empty long hallway. His sense of urgency picked up. I was lifted by his left arm and basically carried to the nearest shelter for some needed privacy. There is a nook tucked off to the side of a hallway. There are two armchairs placed there. The front of my legs hit the back of one. I had migrated my hand from his cock and wrapped my fingers up around his neck and then behind his head into his hair. I tilted my head back and his warm full lips nipped at my lip, and then we stopped and my feet felt the floor underneath me.

  He devoured my whole mouth as his goatee rubbed against my chin and down my neck. Then he pressed his thumb inside my panties. He slightly rubbed the bar bells as they throbbed against my sex. He trailed his finger down over them and my traitorous nub contracted and the dark around me glittered as I gripped the chair in front of me to ride it out. I had to bite down hard on my lower lip to keep in the variety of sounds trying to escape my throat. I dropped my head back to his chest when he pressed two fingers into me. My mouth was open and a loud moan escaped my throat.

  However, that wasn't all bad because it earned me another mouth-muffling kiss from his luscious lips. My right hand found its way to his dick, pressed firmly to my ass. My hand glided up the back to find his button and zipper. All the time I was telling myself I just wanted to feel the warm smoothness in my hands. Then I felt a draft of cool air between my legs from behind. The travels of my hand to his cock must have lifted part of my skirt up in the back. His blackberry case was pressed against my butt cheek.

  I giggled at the fact that I could accidentally "butt dial" someone on his phone if I stayed pressed into him.

  I found my intended destination and made quick work of his top button and zipper. You'd think I was a pro at this, so practiced I could "free willy" in my sleep. I slid my hand in and under the waistband of his boxer briefs. It is times like this I embrace my "quick study" abilities.

  OH SWEET BABY JESSY! He was tall and his hands were huge, I am sure his feet were, too… but this "thing"--there are no words… other than maybe Dirk Diggler. So fucking hard but so soft in my palm. AND HOT! He exhaled hard in my left ear and said in a low, broken squeak between his clenched teeth, "I want you."

  He reclaimed his cock-siderable length from my palm and pulled his fingers out of me, just far enough to pull my thong to the side as I voluntarily inched my feet apart with my two hands now braced on the back of chair. He slid his cock to my entrance and just rubbed it back and forth… I think he was waiting for me to stop him at any moment, and he was struggling to retain control. I don't know what came over me but I must have wanted him pretty badly, too.

  My mind was telling myself this was good but that it was probably taking this little fantasy far enough. I think it must have been just too long a song. I blame my actions on The Hotel California! Although to be fair, I will take accountability for the first three minutes, but the last three were out of my hands. Literally.

  I rose to my toes, gripped the chair and thrust back slowly, but with steady pressure. This was going to take a minute to adjust to. Surprisingly, I didn't feel cheap or used… he was gentle, with just enough grit to make my insides tingle with anticipation. Let's call it what it was. I knew what I wanted out of this. I wasn't asking this cowboy definitely worth the ride to carry me off into the sunset. I was just asking him to restore my faith in their species and their ability to do this right. I finally got what all the fuss was about. When Dez and Shelby would get drunk and tell sex stories about Tyler and Marcus, I had never had much to add to the conversation until then…

  As he pressed me forward and pulled out rather expeditiously, I heard a door nearby swing open and a girl hiss a low, almost hostile, "FUCK YOU" as she shuffled past us in the dark nook, passing us in the hall. Then the door to the bathroom swung open and the light glared in my face as the bright lights soaked the hallway. I stilled and tried to discreetly restore some semblance of nonchalance in case they stopped to chat. I half-turned to thank him for the "dance" with a smile thrown over my shoulder and a giggling, joking curtsy before things got weird or awkward. I was not sure what the hell just happened there.

  It might have been about two too many drinks or the glare of the outdoor yard light that was shining outside the window at the opposite end of the hall. It could have rivaled a good spotlight that didn't allow me to focus and see his face too clearly. When we stepped apart I turned my face down to try and check my attire. All I knew is that I had caught a glimpse of the crying girl's back and purse as she held in piercing sobs, with her hand pressed to her lips.

  The purse… that was my purse Emily had borrowed. Why would Emily be crying? I adjusted the rest of my outfit with more haste and I heard the bathroom door open and then close. I threw a quick, "I'm sorry; I'll be right back… that was my friend that just went by and I need to go check on her."

  He quickly inquires as I rush down the hall toward the bathroom, "What's your name?"

  Still moving to the door, I toss back over my shoulder, "Harley."

  Although I had just had amazing sex with that great-smelling guy, I didn't know him. I wasn't sure I wanted him to know my name until I could gauge him a bit more. Besides, it is not like that was a lie; that had been my name at one time. We hadn't even talked…SHIT…I never even really saw his face. He had a goatee… I felt that against my neck. Wow, although that will never happen again…I know I am not waiting another three years before I do that again. However, maybe I should at least have dinner, watch a movie and get his name next time. I could also just add "slut" to my title and carry on with life! I can't believe I did that.

  Emily was a mess, so I called a cab to take us home. When I left the bathroom I didn't see him in the hallway. We walked through the reception hall on the way out, but I didn't know who I was looking for! I couldn't go around and sniff all the hot guys and feel up the size of their concealed weapons! I didn't even know what he looked like or get his name. It also appeared that goatees were a popular facial fashion trend amongst many of the taller men attending the reception.

  I concluded after thinking about it as we made our way out to meet the taxi that it really didn't matter. It was still a perfect moment. It was romantic, even if he was a complete stranger that I would never see again. He was probably a jerk anyway; the hot ones always are. No, knowing my luck he was probably Mr. Right and I missed my chance at everlasting love! I was starting to lose my faith in finding love, even on a shorter term basis… Dez had Tyler; Shelby has Marcus. As 30 approached I couldn't help that I was adopting the "If it is meant to be it's not going to be me" attitude about that unwritten phase in my life. Love may not be in my cards…

  I come back to reality and look at Tyler, who is watching Macey with a grin. I answer his unspoken question. "It is not the expense of the repairs and you know it. I like to feel capable. Let's not go there right now, please? OH… and thank you so much for the flowers this morning. Th
at angel made my day, even with all the other excitement." As I pull him in for a side hug while carrying in the last of the paint cans, he asks me about my presentation and if the "flower power" assisted in my success. I assure him they did and that I nailed it, leaving out the details of meeting with Mr. Harrison, as I was working hard to still block that one out.

  I give Tyler the high level details of the closing scheduled 10 days from Monday. I would be spending the day getting ready to show the unit tomorrow evening. I need to spend Sunday reviewing the closing documents. I need to review the numbers before signing off on the transition plans for the resources assigned on the Mathis project. I would be meeting Mr. Greyson for dinner Monday night and I wanted to be prepared. I do not want my mentor to feel disappointed in his decision to give me this opportunity. I think a small part of me even wants him to be proud of me. I also have some questions about some figures I had reviewed in the closing documents' project schedules and contracts. They don't mesh with the government contract dollars and legal closing documents. They seem lower than the actual the cost of the consolidation on the project schedules. I e-mailed those figures to Sam and Mr. Greyson for their insight and explanation.

  Tyler sighs and holds me tightly against him as we watch Macey pulling around her imaginary puppy in the front lawn calling, "Come on, Lucky."

  He steps toward Macey. "Going out for pizza to feed my girl and listen to all the reasons why puppies can be good for you for the 100th time this week. I will be so glad when her sixth birthday is over next weekend and I can come up with another excuse for not letting her have a dog. I don't think my speech about barely being able to keep her alive as an infant, let alone a puppy, went over very well last year. Then we are getting groceries and picking up Emily from the airport."

  Tyler's 22-year-old shy, lovable, gorgeous sister is Emily. She is finishing cosmetology school in New York this spring. She is staying with Tyler and Macey while Pugs goes on vacation for the next couple weeks. I have been waiting for her to arrive. I need a cut and color change.

  Tyler asks, "Do you need anything? You look… great, really. I keep waiting to see you with dark circles under your eyes and flipping around here braless in holey pajamas and your slippers, but you don't. You look… happy. It looks really good on you, Love. It has been awhile."

  I snort and laugh out loud. "I am, but do us all a favor and just get her a dog already. I am not sure how you've held out this long."

  He is adamantly shaking his head already. "NO DOG!"

  Chapter FOUR

  Changing My Stars

  Hadley-

  I smile as those little holes in my heart feel the pull that make me search Mace's eyes for comfort, seeing her soulful eyes smiling back at me. I know he still misses Dez, too… she was the animal lover, always negotiating for a good time to get a dog. She never had one growing up but she used to sleep with strays in the park after bribing them on cold nights or sneaking into random back yards in her suburban neighborhoods or barns when she could scrape up enough money to travel. A shelter wasn't safe for a 16-year-old girl all alone at night.

  Men, as we both learned in one of life's great lessons, can be a lot more dangerous than any dog! It is hard to fathom all that she survived on her own for so long and how we survived that night we met. The bond that formed between us would not be broken, even in death. She left me Mace, her soul, for strength and for peace. She got to spend about two years with Macey before the cancer eventually took her from us. She was my hero, my rock, my soul sister. She was also Tyler's wife and Macey's mother and how she learned to be such a good one always escaped me, considering that Dez's mother, a Sioux Indian, left them when she was three years old and her father, who was black, died at age 42 from injuries he suffered during a car accident when she was 15.

  However, taking one look at Mace when she was born made me understand why Dez couldn't terminate the pregnancy. They found the breast cancer in her right side during the end of her first trimester. She made the ultimate sacrifice for Mace. That is what a good mother does. She would put her own life on the line for the sake of her child, not push their daughter out the door with a wad of cash saying, "Don't ever come back."

  I closed the subject for the last time but I couldn't hold out on her any longer. That is just one more reason why I am never having kids. I would ruin them. I spoil Macey, but Tyler is the disciplinarian. Shelby was kind of like an "autopilot" kid, wise beyond her years. However, that came with its shortcomings, too. I don't think she got much of a "childhood" growing up.

  I have a successful career and the peace and inner strength to stay in control of my situation. Let's not rock the boat; it is not my calling. I watched my mother be a doormat for a drunk, violent boyfriend for over 10 years before the night she chose him over me. No kid deserves that.

  I didn't have many options other than to just grit my teeth and try to move on. I didn't know who my father was and my mom, Ally, has been on her own since 17 herself. She was in and out of foster care growing up and lived in abusive homes her entire life. If I have grandparents or family somewhere, I wouldn't have known where to begin to go to find them.

  What do you do? Accept your destiny or create a new one? "Destiny"… my old stage name was born! I chose the latter.

  If it was going to be, it was all going to be up to me. I needed to see how big my brave was.

  I was on my own.

  That was the decision that laid the scope and broke through my fear and reservations about using my body to shift my love for dancing into just adding the pole and removing my clothes in the process. Phase One of Three was executed.

  'Pugs and Petals' was an old train depot downtown that had been converted by Betty and Dorris or "Pugs and Petals", as I became accustomed to calling them. They were sisters and had turned the lower half into a dog grooming/flower shop. They let me rent an upstairs apartment and work in the grooming and flower shop while I was getting a GED. Petals had bought the store and restored it all from money she had earned… you guessed it… stripping. In her younger days, anyway. I showed her some of the moves dear ol' Mom had taught me and she instructed me on how to work the pole. She got me a job at a respectable joint. It was run by her cousin Wade. It was only required that I go topless, and I could keep my drawers on if I preferred… you know, unless I wanted more tips. Hmmm… no thanks.

  I wanted to earn and save enough money to get myself through college, but I had my standards. There were limits drawn very early on what values I might want to remain virtuous and in my control that I could build on. I knew I was strong-willed and I could dance. It was a start.

  I had to stay true to myself or it wasn't worth the risk… I saw where she went wrong.

  These values and self respect I had coarsely instilled in myself over the years were reinforced during a meeting I led earlier this afternoon. Once the Mathis Presentation and the meeting with Mr. Greyson and Mr. Harrison were over, Larry, the head of the data management and business intelligence group, decided to challenge my decision to call a conference call. We needed his department to ensure we cleaned up the inaccurate and key business indicators in our data so we are accurately reporting and making decisions on the most timely information. As I started to give the group an outline of where the issues are presented in the data models I extracted and explained that I would like to leverage each of their skills and assistance to correct the problem, Larry pipes up with, "So you think that new big title gives you the right to come in and tell me how to do my job? I have been managing this department for longer than you've been wearing a bra, young lady."

  UH-OH, he said "young lady" and referenced my girls? My inner trucker comes to my defense as I hold back my insults. Classy Larry, I'd grab your nuts now. Those little gems are about to be shoved up your new asshole.

  My blood ran cool and I had to work to suppress my irritation with this lazy-ass. I was about to channel an angry truck driver to hurl a redneck insult Larry's way. However, I was a bigger pers
on than that and I wasn't going to play his game or let him shake me. He doesn't do his job worth a shit and I was about to inform him of such. Marcus had shared with me that Larry seems to spend more time online gambling than doing his job and Mr. Greyson has already put him on warning about his antics. I heard snickers from a few other men surrounding the table and on the conference line.

  "Larry, can you count to 10? I only ask because it is an important number. It represents the age I started wearing my Scooby Doo training bra. We also have 10 people between the phone and this table that are being called together to correct the error of your ways. I am completely aware that you had been assigned the ownership of managing the data migration and scalability efforts for this company and have for many years, and look what we have to show for it! I was asked to coordinate the effort to align resources and do whatever is necessary to restore the integrity of our data prior to this merger. Which tells me that I am not really telling you how to do your job, Larry; I am basically doing it for you."

  I heard a howl of laughter on the phone before it abruptly cut off… they must have hit mute after the initial outburst. Larry's face was red as he got up from the table with such force the chair went flying before he exited the room and slammed the door. I continued the meeting without incident and a surprisingly helpful and quiet group of well-mannered gentleman assisted me in a defining a strategy to resolve the issues plaguing our reporting and data integration standards. All accomplished in less than 30 minutes. No thanks to Larry. Imagine that.

  Coming through the door at home, I am hoping to finish out my emotionally-charged day by just focusing on winding down. I drop my stuff in the doorway and nudge the door shut with my hip. After consuming about two pots of coffee today, I walk feverishly to the bathroom off the hall by the back door. After emptying my bladder and grabbing a cold bottle of water from the fridge, I strip off my skirt and dress wear and throw them in the dry cleaning bag and head up to loft, rolling my neck in long circles as I round the stairs. I am just stretching in the loft, wearing only the black lace undergarments, stockings and, of course, the suede shoes as I tune up the music lineup. I need to find control. I need to release the pressure of the day… the closing preparations, the meeting, the new role.