Jagger Read online

  He raises his eyes.

  The glow of the fading sunset threads through his hair. Specks of gold make his green eyes glitter, the light dripping off his lashes.

  His lips curve into a slow smile.

  “Is that your problem? Me not having a shirt? Is that why you’re trying to avoid me?”

  “I’m not avoiding you.”

  “You just fucking did,” he says, chuckling.

  “Why is it so funny to you, Jagger? I don’t understand. This is not a laughing matter. What happened last night was stupid. Your parents almost caught us.”

  He keeps rocking his chest as if he hasn’t heard me.

  “That was fucking hilarious,” he says, amused, and I suddenly grapple with a bout of sadness.

  He can’t possibly understand. To him, it’s nothing. And maybe he’s right. He hasn’t done anything differently from what he’s probably done with lots of other women. It was my fault after all.

  I shouldn’t have been there. In his pool. With him. Both almost naked.

  “It was not funny,” I snap, my voice tinged with tears, and his smile starts to fade away.

  I push him to the side, walk to the cupboard, snatch a mug and come back. I grab the coffee pitcher and start to pour coffee, and then I stop as the warmth of his breath traces my shoulder, his body not even an inch away from mine.

  I turn around.

  He slips his hands onto the counter on either side of me.

  “Why are you mad, Violet?” he asks seriously, examining me, his eyes drilling deep into mine, making it impossible to lie.

  I clench my teeth and briefly look away.

  “Because I wasn’t supposed to be there... In your home. And certainly not in the pool with you.”

  He shrugs.

  “So fucking what? You were in the pool with me. Why is that a problem?”

  I shake my head. Why do I even bother to explain to him?

  “What if I hadn’t gotten out of the pool on time? I would’ve had to explain to your mom why I was there. With you, in that... situation. I’m not that kind of woman, Jagger. Besides, I’m older than you.”

  He looks at me, baffled.

  “So?”

  “Between the two of us, I’m supposed to be the adult. I should’ve known better than to get in the pool with you, nearly naked.”

  “Is that what your problem is?” he asks, a bit confused.

  “That’s not the only problem... Not only that I didn’t act like a responsible grown up, but I actually felt... ”

  He tilts his head to the side, waiting for me to speak.

  “I felt younger than you... And when you touched me and kissed me I felt as if I’d never been touched or kissed before.”

  He brings his hand to my face, his fingertips trailing my jawline, his eyes sparkling with innocence, instantly melting my heart.

  “Why is this bad? I don’t understand,” he murmurs.

  Pushing back my tears, I force myself to smile.

  “It’s good, but it’s bad at the same time. I’m not supposed to feel that way. You’re a kid, Jagger,” I say, my voice breaking as my deeply ingrained guilt starts surfacing.

  He pulls back, a shadow sliding over his face, darkening his eyes.

  “Kid?” he shouts, his eyes brewing a storm.

  He takes another step back, his palms held up in the air.

  “How can you say that? Do I look like a fucking kid?”

  Right now, he looks like an angry man, but that’s beside the point. His age is nothing but a cold fact.

  He leaps back to me.

  “Answer me, Violet!”

  “No, you don’t, but you are one.”

  He tosses his head back, nervously raking his hands through his hair.

  “Am I? Really? Then why the fuck did you spy on me last night?”

  His eyes burn into mine, and my face drains out of blood.

  “You thought I didn’t know?”

  “It was an accident. I didn’t plan to,” I mumble.

  “You could’ve gone back to your house.”

  “It’s not your damn business what I could or couldn’t have done.”

  “Oh, yes. It fucking is. Why do you react to me the way you do if I’m only a kid?”

  “I’m not,” I say, denying the obvious.

  “No? Really? Let’s give it a test then,” he says coming close to me.

  He smoothly sweeps my shoulders with his hands, trails up the sides of my neck and cups my face. My skin tingles under his touch, forming goosebumps.

  He breathes softly over my lips, and my poise and conviction go right out the window. He dips his eyes to my mouth, and it affects the flesh between my thighs.

  His thumb strokes the corner of my mouth, and I raise my eyes, lose myself in his gaze, and slowly part my lips.

  Completely under his spell, I miss the moment when he slips his fingers inside my towel, flicks it open and lets it fall to his feet.

  His eyes don’t leave mine as I stand in front of him completely naked, shivering, and turned on as I’ve never been before.

  I’m tense, my skin covered with goosebumps, my nipples hard, arousal dripping between my legs.

  “You have to leave now, Jagger,” I say with a wavering voice, my eyes dipping below his waist as the ridge of his erection strains against his jeans.

  He steps back, palms his cock, and gives me the worst kind of smile.

  “You’re gonna come to me, and fucking beg me, Violet... ” he sneers.

  He shoves his hand into his pocket, pulls out the bra I lost on his lawn last night and slings it to me. It lands on my shoulder and then slips off me and goes straight into my cup of coffee.

  Not once he lowers his eyes.

  “Kid, my fucking ass,” he throws over his shoulder and storms out my house, dark as night.

  6

  “Oh, my God! The sex column? Are you serious?”

  Liv’s eyes sparkle with delight. I motion to her to keep her voice down as people walk back and forth across the hallway and some care to glance inside.

  “That’s wonderful,” she says with a quiet voice.

  She closes the door, plops into a chair across from my desk, lifts the lid of her cup and takes a sip of coffee.

  She wears an ankle length gauze dress accessorized with a wide braided belt that rests low on her hips. Tiny tassels dangle at her neckline.

  “Well, I’m not so sure... It’s not my area of expertise, and I still don’t know why it has to be me. From his perspective, I understand. The article I wrote last week, the one about finding real love, brought in a lot of comments. But that was love, and this is sex. And it’s not last century sex either if you get my drift.”

  Rolling a tassel between her fingers, she leans back against her chair.

  “I bet Jonas thought you’re the most experienced,” she says, her eyes glinting with amusement.

  “And he based his assessment on what? Me being the oldest in the firm? Really? ”

  She holds her hand up.

  “Hey, I’m just saying. The man wanted a seasoned opinion,” she says, barely containing her laughter, and I waggle my finger at her.

  She sets her cup on my desk.

  “Why does it bother you so much? It’s only sex. It should be fun. I would rather write articles about sex than natural supplements.”

  “We don’t write about natural supplements. What are you talking about?”

  “No? Well, wait a few more years,” she says and starts giggling again. “Seriously now, writing about sex is fun.”

  “Fun?! How is it fun?”

  She shrugs.

  “It just is... I don’t see what the biggie is.”

  “The biggie is, I’m not an expert on sex, and people will send me their questions. They’ll ask for advice, and naturally, they’ll expect answers from me. What the hell am I supposed to tell them?”

  “First off, it’s not as if you talk to them directly. You read their questions, do a lit
tle research and give them the best advice that you can come up with.”

  “It’s easy for you to say. How am I supposed to tell which one is good advice if I don’t have a damn clue and no personal experience to back it up? You think I’m the only one who writes crap on the Internet? How do I know it’s not some shit concocted by someone even more clueless than me? Shouldn’t I be the sex expert if I write a column about sex and love and give people advice?”

  “You’ll be...”

  She pauses, a giggle gurgling inside her throat.

  “After you read all the material out there and, um... watch some porn,” she says, and bites her lips, barely holding back her snicker.

  “Ugh!”

  I snatch a ball of paper from my desk and throw it at her. She ducks out of its way, bursting into laughter.

  “Have you seen the titles on the list?” I ask.

  “No...” she says, smiling ear to ear, nodding ‘yes’ at the same time.

  I snatch the piece of paper, fresh off my printer.

  Five foolproof ways to get him hard and ready

  How to give head like an expert

  The best ways to pleasure yourself

  “Do you want me to read some more?”

  Contorted in her chair, she braces her stomach, her chest rocking, tears trickling down her face. It’s hilarious if it weren’t so damn serious.

  I lean across the desk.

  “I know nothing about these topics,” I say under my breath. Running the back of her hand across her face, she wipes off tears.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes, I’m damn serious,” I say, slumping back into my chair.

  She bites her lips to push back another peal of laughter.

  “Do you want me to set-up a meeting with the other writers so we can brainstorm?” she asks, laughing in her throat.

  “Ha, ha... So damn funny,” I mutter, only half smiling.

  “I’m sorry,” she says, straightening her back and brushing off another tear. “You must have some idea,” she says, serious this time.

  “No, I don’t,” I blurt out and plop the piece of paper on the table. “Expert head? Are you kidding me? I didn't even know people call it that until I heard one of Lorraine’s friends complaining that she caught a co-worker giving head to her husband. It took me a bit to put it together since they’re all nurses and I thought, you know... that it was a medical thing.”

  Her eyes are about to spit out of her sockets as she chokes with laughter.

  “How’s the planning going?” asks Jonas, my boss, cracking the door open and walking into my office.

  Liv jumps out of her chair, her fingers swiftly wiping the smudged mascara from her face.

  Rushed, she mumbles an excuse and darts away.

  “Is she okay?” he asks, a smile playing on his lips.

  “Yeah, she’s fine,” I say, cold.

  His eyes shift to me.

  In his thirties, Jonas is the only person in the company older than me. He’s not only my boss. He’s also the owner of Rapt. He’s owned a few successful websites in the past and sold them for good money, and being a hands-on guy made them such a success.

  Slowly, he rubs the side of his nose with the tip of his index, and I almost catch the ghost of a smile. Not him, too. Jesus!

  “Look, I know it’s a lot on your plate, but you’ve done such a great job with the Food and Travel section. You’re one of the best writers in this firm, if not the best. If you’ve managed to attract that kind of traffic writing about cooking and travel, I’m sure a sex topic will send the traffic numbers through the roof,” he says, serious.

  He studies me for a moment as I swiftly take inventory of his crisp shirt, dark suit pants and the shadow of black hair peeking at the open neckline.

  His blue eyes bore into mine.

  “You’re probably right,” I mutter, rather in appeasement, although he does make a sensible point.

  The soft sound of his phone grabs his attention, and I shift my eyes back to my laptop. He finishes reading a message and flicks his gaze back to me.

  “Please let me know if you need any help...” he says.

  Yeah, like that’s gonna happen.

  “Okay.”

  He strides to the door, and just as he’s about to step into the hallway he turns to me one more time.

  “By the way, you’re my first choice for the Editor-in-chief position. I’ll make a decision by the end of the month,” he says, and before I can voice an opinion, he vanishes out the door.

  That’s, um, unexpected news.

  Liv’s face pops in the doorway.

  “Is that true?”

  I motion to her to come in.

  “Are you eavesdropping?”

  “The door is open.”

  “And you have nothing better to do than be within earshot.”

  “Is it?”

  “Yes.

  “That’s awesome,” she says. “Congratulations!”

  “Thanks,” I grumble.

  She purses her lips.

  “Don’t worry... By then, you’ll learn how to give head,” she says, a solemn expression on her face, and we can no longer keep ourselves under control and start giggling.

  “Can you please shut up, for fuck’s sake?” I toss at her, still chuckling.

  Leaning across the desk, she whispers to me.

  “Are you fucking serious about not having a clue?”

  “Yes, I am,” I say with a quiet voice.

  “How the hell has that happened?” she asks in a normal voice as she straightens her back.

  “It just never happened to me.”

  “Not even with your fuck buddy?” she mouths.

  I shake my head.

  “No. We only met once, and we were both so eager to get it done. There wasn’t much time for variety. Plus, I’m not exactly tripping over myself to do it. I have no fucking clue how it’s done or if I like it or not.”

  “You should do it with someone who’s kind enough to teach you,” she adds as if we’re talking about learning to ride a bicycle. “Watching porn might help, but you need the right man for this kind of job, no pun intended. Otherwise, the pleasure part might completely elude you.”

  “Right. There’s a pleasure part?” I ask, blushing.

  She sucks the bottom lip between her teeth and nods, her smile spreading over her cheeks.

  “Damn sure there is. That’s why it helps if you like him. If he gives you a good taste of it, pun intended, you might like it more than you think.”

  I look at her, incredulous, and she nods a few more times.

  “Yeah... It’s a great turn on, and women who love it... they really love it, and men can tell the difference.”

  “You do?”

  She nods again.

  “Yes, I do. Look, I know things were different for you, but you kinda have to forget about all that crap. You shouldn’t feel bad about it. You learn about it and get some experience. That’s all there is.”

  “I guess you’re right...” I mutter.

  “Just relax. Read a bunch of stuff, watch some porn. Get the technical stuff down first... And then, find the man. That’s all.”

  “It’s not that simple, though... To find the man, I mean.”

  “It’s not simple because you make it complicated, but it really is. And tonight when you get home, get yourself an aromatic bath and do some self-exploration. For the other article... It doesn’t hurt. Trust me,” she says, a playful smile sprouting on her lips. “It’s nothing to fret about. Just get it out of your head.” Her finger points at her temple. “And when you catch that stupid voice inside your head berating you, tell the bitch to ‘shut up.' You’re a beautiful woman, Violet. You should live like one.”

  A moment of perfect silence follows her words.

  “Anyway... I gotta go. Let me know if you need me.”

  My eyes follow her as she strolls to the door when a tall man swaggers across the corridor. My heart leaps to m
y mouth.

  “Shit.”

  “What?”

  She turns to me, catching me scan the corridor with anxious eyes.

  “What’s he doing here?”

  Without sparing a glance in my direction, Jagger strides across the hallway and vanishes out of sight.

  “Oh. It’s the orientation day.”

  “What orientation day? You said there were no jobs. He got hired?” I squeak.

  “Yeah, he did. There weren’t openings, but one of the girls goes on maternity leave in a couple of weeks, so they’ve decided to bring him in early. By the time she’ll be back, they might need both of them anyway. He’s really good, they say. He knows his stuff.”

  “Is he?” I throw at her, but it’s more of a rhetorical question.

  For the next few days, I try to leave my home without crossing paths with Jagger. To do that, I have to spend a lot of time glued to the kitchen window, spying on every move he makes so I don’t run into him.

  I only spot him once walking the family dogs. There are two small white dogs. I recognize the girl, Alba, and then there’s a second dog who has a blue ribbon attached to his harness, a boy most likely. No doubt, they are his mom’s dogs.

  Cars pull in and out on Thursday evening, a gathering taking place in their house. Classical music drifts through the air, twined with delicate laughter and dialogue, a far cry from the shrilling noises of Jagger’s parties.

  Their guests leave late at night, and come Friday morning, his parents load a bunch of suitcases and their dogs in the SUV, and smoothly pull away.

  All in all, I haven’t seen him this past week which makes me think he’s avoiding me as well. We didn’t run into each other at all, not even at work, which is really not that hard to accomplish.

  We, the scribes, have almost no interaction with the IT guys. They’re rarely part of our meetings, and unless there’s a system update, hardware that needs to be replaced or a problem that has to be fixed, they’re stuck in their own department behind their computer screens.

  I’ve spent a lot of time doing research for my new column, putting an equal amount of work into writing. I’m getting more comfortable with writing about sex, but not so much with the real life, self-exploration part.

  Although I’m knowledgeable enough to write essays on sexual behavior, applying that theoretical knowledge is a hard line for me to cross.