Chance Encounters: The Collection

Chapter Six

Chapter SixWhen we get back into bed it feels somehow different. On one hand there is more riding on this now, with both of us putting ourselves in a vulnerable position. But I'm actually more comfortable. There is no rush, the morning deadline no longer applies.

Lying sideways, facing each other, he takes me into his arms.

I know now what he meant when he described how I looked at him. It's the same way he explores my face now, lingering on certain features just that little bit longer before coming back for eye contact. I feel noticed, appreciated.

It's a strange thing, when you look at someone's face after you've developed some kind of feelings for them. We can look at a model on a billboard and appreciate their attractiveness on an objective level, but eventually you'll get bored and look at something else.

But when you like someone, there is so much more to see. You won't lose interest even if you stare at them for hours. Perhaps it's knowing that you'll miss them when you're apart and you want to memorize their face to keep with you at all times.

A glint appears in his eyes and before I can wonder what he's thinking he firmly grabs both my wrists. He turns onto his back and I've no choice but to be dragged along.

"You interrupted me last night, it'll not happen again." His deep voice is not one to argue with.

He lets go of my hands and instead lifts me up from under my armpits. My legs spread, surrounding him, but he's not satisfied with me yet.

"Sit on me," he says.

"I already am..."

He shakes his head, dragging me upwards by hooking his hands through the bend of my knees. A smile forms on his lips when I begin to understand and crawl further upwards, finally ending up covering his face.

It wasn't the drink that made this so amazing the first time around. He does know exactly what to do, but more than that it's obvious he enjoys this as much as I do.

The moment his tongue reaches my c**t I am positive that whatever happens between us, it'll be a fun ride. I'm taken over by waves of pleasure, starting small like a little itch scratched in just the right manner, then growing in intensity.

His strong hands keep me in place by my hips, even when I involuntarily try to twitch and wiggle. Now that he has me right where he wants me, there is no way he'll let me go before seeing this through.

I feel my stomach tighten, breaths become deeper and louder. Upon looking down I find that he's staring at me. His blue eyes shine unnaturally brightly in the dimmed light of the table lamp next to us. His beard is slightly raspy against my sensitive skin but it does not detract from the magic of the moment.

His tongue is surprisingly long, reaching quite deeply inside.

"Oh God, you're killing me," I moan.

Then, with furious flicking of his tongue I can't take it any longer. I am taken over, crying out for him. Falling back when he finally leaves his powerful hold on my hips, and sliding off to the side of him, I'm completely spent.

He gets up, admiring his work with a smile. I close my eyes and concentrate on getting my breathing back under control and the world back into focus.

A moment later I feel him next to me, his hand cupping my cheek.

"Lucy," he says.

I open my eyes to find him sitting beside me, my phone in hand.

"Someone's calling."

Such terrible timing. I lean up and read the name on the display. Akhil. Dammit.

"I should take this, I'm sorry. It's work." I sit up and pick up the call.

"Hello, Akhil."

His voice sounds excited, or agitated on the other end while he starts to ramble. It's not at all about the project but about him.

"Wait, what do you mean you're getting married and leaving?" I can't believe my ears.

He continues to tell me about his parents finding him a match, in good old traditional fashion. Now he's getting married to some girl he used to know when they were little, but whose family moved to Canada two decades ago. The preparations are well underway to make his immigration possible.

"Fuck... I mean congrats on the happy news... How come you're only telling me this now?" I rest my head in my remaining hand while listening to his apologetic explanation that he was nervous about letting me down. That's why he didn't say anything until he really couldn't put it off any longer.

"Alright well, all the best to you, and I wish you a happy marriage. Canada is nice, I think you'll like it there." I sound defeated; I feel it too.

Without being able to count on his support, I'll not only have trouble with this new project, I'll also have to rethink how I run my business in general. In a daze, I disconnect the call.

"That didn't sound good," George says.

I shake my head but I haven't got the words yet to explain it all.

"My project manager..." In a somewhat symbolic gesture I discard the phone on the bed.

"When I land a big project, he would handle the outsourcing side of things: manage people, ensure deadlines are met. You can't f*****g trust anyone, can you. If only he had thought to give some notice!"

Deep breaths! I didn't have Akhil when I started out, it's not all going to unravel now that he's gone either. I hope.

"I guess I'll manage without him, it'll just be a lot more work..." I force a smile.

Not his problem but mine. I would happily move on from this topic of conversation sooner rather than later. But he is giving me a rather serious, thoughtful look. It's the sort of expression men get when they enter troubleshooting mode.

"How about finding a replacement?" he suggests.

I shrug. That won't be easy.

"You just let me know if there is anything I could do to help, alright?" he continues.

I smile at him again. It's a kind offer, but it would be wrong to ask that much of him. I'm not in a hurry to make this into a business relationship, what I want from him is a lot more intimate.

"Thanks, I'll keep it in mind. But I think it'll be OK if I handled the work myself for now."

He seems to have given up on the idea, instead lying down and gesturing at me to join him. Good plan, I could use some cheering up.

I start to look at him again, resting my head on his shoulder. It feels familiar already, like we've known each other longer than just a few hours. But feelings can be so deceptive, he's mostly a mystery to me.

"I want to know everything about you," I say.

"Are you sure?" He grins.

"Absolutely. Everything. For starters, what else do you like to do? Except frequenting old fashioned pubs and having great taste in music of course."

He seems a bit distracted but eventually does answer.

"I've got a motorcycle. A classic Harley."

A biker as well? This is great news and very fitting too. He completely looks the part for a Harley rider, I should've known.

"How exciting," I say, "perhaps we can go for a ride sometimes? Assuming it runs..."

He immediately notes my teasing tone and goes on the defensive.

"Oh don't tell me you're into that newfangled Japanese crap yourself? Just because it's an old Harley, doesn't mean it'll break down."

"Fair enough. Mine's Japanese yes, but also a classic. A 1970s Honda CB750 which might as well live at the local bike garage."

"You are full of surprises, aren't you," he says.

"I do my best."

He's beautiful, even if saying that out loud would just make things awkward. But there's no need to talk anymore. He leans forward, guiding my chin upwards to meet him. We kiss, slowly.

Every inch of my body has woken up to his presence again. As long as the rest of the world doesn't intrude, this moment between the two of us is perfect. A perfect beginning.

We talk more, kiss more, caress one another and look into each other's eyes. Like two blind people who just started seeing for the first time. Time passes with little relevance, until we are forced into action around ten-thirty. The night is truly over now.

He programs his number and address into my phone. Everything of mine is already on the card I gave him.

"This weekend I'm going to have to sort out the mess left behind by the guy, Akhil, who just quit. But I need to see you again. Soon," I say.

No response, he's quiet while putting on his clothes. Then he helps me gather my things from around the room.

"Maybe we can do dinner anyway? I'm assuming you'll still eat at some point while working," he says finally.

This is probably the wrong time to explain that I have a habit of forgetting all about meal breaks when I get sucked into work.

"Let's see, I'll call or text you when I see some light at the end of this tunnel." I zip up my overnight bag and see him observe me from across the bed.

Dressed in the same clothes as last night, his presence still makes me weak. I don't want to leave or say goodbye.

"Before we go, would you like to join me for breakfast?" I ask.