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Last time: John realized his feelings for Tess might not be entirely platonic when the two share a brief, but passionate kiss, after the studio is nominated for a local newspaper award.
The few seconds of that night had been playing over and over again in John’s head. He’d sleptwalked through his classes, mixed up the twins, forgotten the names of the sequence they’d been training in for weeks. Don’t get him wrong—John was no shrinking violet. Admittedly, he’d been hyperfocused on work for the last few years, but he’d dated plenty and never wanted for female attention. Even been married, though whether or not that ceremony was legal, he still wasn’t sure.
The difference, though, was that they worked together. She technically worked for him, not that he had any real power over her, or at at least that’s how he justified it. But he couldn’t stop feeling shame about it, perhaps because he knew that as minor as that kiss was, he wanted more. Desparately wanted more.
And yet the next time he saw her at the studio, she was acting so normal he wondered if he’d imagined the whole thing, had just had a hyper realistic dream. She didn’t even crack a joke, barely glaced at him when he entered the room. It was like he was a piece of furniture. The message was clear: it was a mistake, it hadn’t happened, nothing would happen again. By the end of the week, she was a little warmer to him. And by the beginning of next, he’d learned to push the memory out of his mind when it popped up late at night.
*
The plan was for Tess to meet him at his building since she had to drop something off at the studio, and then they’d take a cab to the ceremony. He was incredibly nervous as he got dressed, it’d been a long time since he could remember his nerves trembling so much. Tess had told him not to make a big deal, had said he could probably get away without wearing a tie. There would be no acceptance speeches, just a short, seated program and winners would get mailed a tiny little plaque. And then they’d go home. Nothing to be nervous about. But the closer he got to the occasion, the more he was beginning to obsess about it, and more specifically about sitting next to Tess for two hours. Of what would happen if they won, and what would happen if they lost and she realized she’d been wasting time on some Hollywood drop out, a failed actor about to fully burn out.
He hadn’t worn his suit in a long time, ironed it twice to calm his nerves. Routine always soothed him. He waited sitting on the couch, tv off, his eyes flickering back and forth to the clock. What if she didn’t show up? What if she blew him off? But when Tess knocked at the door, he had to stop himself from leaping off the couch and making it too apparent he’d been sitting there, doing nothing.
She looked beautiful—of course. She was still in her winter parka, a hat pulled down over her ears, a scarf wrapped around her face, but she always looked beautiful. And when she beamed at him in his suit, he felt that familiar ache that visited him late at night.
“You ready for this cowboy?” She said breezily.
“Let’s, uh, get this over with.” He said, pulling his coat on. “I’ll call a cab.”
*
They lost. Tess had grabbed his hand when they announced their category. She had been cracking jokes the entire time in his ear, it had taken him a moment to catch up to her cadence but by the time it was their turn, his anxiety had temporarily dissolved. He’d been having fun. And then they called another name, and he could see her face fall, just slightly. His immediate response was to roll his eyes. Who cared about a newspaper award? Who needed a little plaque to gather dust in the corner of his office? He certainly did not. But it was her face that bothered him, just that little tug at her lips, like he’d disappointed her—that was what bothered him.
“Ugh, next year.” Tess mumbled to him. The next category was called, someone came around with another top off of their wine. And then—they kept joking. They kept talking, whispering back and forth, her hand lingering on his arm, him swiping a piece of dust off her shoulder. She looked so pretty. How quick he’d been when they first met to turn her away, what a mistake that would have been.
*
They caught a cab back from the museum. There was snow, very lightly, coming down outside.
“It’s still early. We can get something to eat around the studio.” John said as they got into the cab.
“Oh yeah, absolutely. I’m starving. Not enough of those tiny hors d’eouvres.”
They went back and forth about where to eat as the car weaved through the snow-dusted streets. He wasn’t sure what came over him but he dropped one of his hands onto hers. Not holding it, still separated by his glove and her mitten, but when she turned her face up to his, her lips just slightly parted, he felt warmth flush through his skin.
“This the place?” The cab driver said. “This restaurant?”
“No it’s actually the martial arts studio next door,” Tess said chattily to the driver, “It’s coffeedonutfest.com/ his studio. So if you want to learn karate – he’s great. One of the best.”
John met the cab driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror, and suddenly he saw himself the way the driver did. A martial artist gone to seed, humoring himself with a young woman who hadn’t yet seen through him. Someone pathetic, someone on the verge of a mid-life crisis, finding refuge in someone he’d only disappoint.
He pulled his hand away from hers to pay the driver. They stepped out of the car and he kept his eyes straight ahead. Just dinner, then she’d go. He unlocked the studio, leaving her in the front while he made an excuse to go into his office, tossing his coat on the chair.
“Hey Tess,” he called out while in the back room, “Maybe we should take a rain check on dinner—I should get an early start tomorrow.”
He turned away from his desk, surprised to see her standing so close to him. People rarely were able to sneak up on him, so her presence was especially shocking. But she didn’t step away, she just kind of smiled, amost smirked at him.
“Tess-“
“John….” She replied, still with that faint smile on her mouth. God, she was pretty. Tess reached up to straighten his collar. “You’re not mad about the awards ceremony are you?”
He ran his hand through his hair, “Just seems like a waste of time.”
She tilted her head, “Well I had fun.”
“I feel like you usually do,” The words slipped out of him before he could halt them, cut the flirtation before it began.
“Maybe you need to have more fun.” She gently smoothed the collar of his shirt, before leaning in and pressing her soft, dark lips to his.
His brain was on fire. Their last kiss, one that had only lasted a few seconds, had been flickering in his mind in the month that had passed. He’d been hanging on to that memory when the whole time he could be having this. She stretched her arms around his neck as their kiss deepened, her nose pushing against his as she turned her face against his.
His arms were still pinned to his sides, until he finally came to his senses and pulled back, placing his hands on her upper arms, taking her hands off her neck.
“Tess. We can’t.”
“You act like-“
“I know how I’ve acted, but I shouldn’t have, I mean, I’m old, I’m technically your boss.”
“I barely work here.”
“I’m too old for you.”
“I’m going to be thirty in a few years, John. I’m hardly a kid. We don’t—I’m not going to throw myself at you, if you’re not interested.” She pressed her hand against his arm, feeling the tense muscle of his bicep. Her voice dropped to a husky whisper, “I just want you.” A pause, “I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you.”
Years of training to learn how to react to one’s opponent. And now, here, he wasn’t prepared. In a way, it was pathetic. If his twenty-five-year old self had seen this, he would have been disgusted. A younger John Reef would’ve had her on the desk, probably playing a Van Halen tape or drinking a beer while he fucked her. She would have been mewling, the stink of hairspray thick in the air, begging for him—.
So why wasn’t that what he was doing now? His face hardened, his eyes focused on her, and then he just took her face in his hand and kissed her. She stumbled back against his desk as he became more aggressively, his hand dropping to her waist as she pulled him closer. She opened her mouth to accept his tongue as the kiss became increasingly sloppy, the two of them too lost in desire to restrain themselves.
The 25-year-old Johnny Reef was back. The hands that were on her waist now dropped to her thighs, squeezing them, rubbing them back and forth, feeling the warmth of her skin underneath the thin fabric of her dress. She was grinding, softly, against his hips as they pressed together.
Neither of them wanted to wait. She was guiding his hand to the hem of her tights, which he yanked down.
“Finger me,” She whispered as they continued to make out. He ran his hand against her underwear, massaging her vulva. She was rubbing the front of his pants, feeling him grow harder and harder against her touch. “Oh god, Johnny.”
“Say what you said before,” he commanded as he brought his mouth to her throat.
“I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you,” she said, breathily, “When I came in here that day—this was all I could think about.”
He dragged his finger along the hem of her underwear, teasing her as he kissed up her neck to her ear.
“Can’t you feel how wet I am?” She whispered in his ear before pressing her own tongue against his earlobe. He could, and as he slipped his hand down the front of her underwear, curling his fingers to press his palm against her clitoris and her fingers against her vagina.
“Spread your legs.” He said. His tone made her weak in the knees, but she did, giving him access to slide two fingers into her. She was rubbing herself against him, moaning desperately into his mouth. That soft, stony John Reef she had met months ago was faded. Here was the man she’d seen glimpses of—what she’d hoped for, fantasized about.
And then he pulled back, suddenly. “You’re sure?”
She ran her finger down his arm, “Yes.”
“Let’s go upstairs.” He moved quickly—groped her ass, took their coats from the chair, led her by the hand up into his apartment. Barely remembered to lock the studio he was so single-minded.
The moment he shut the door she was against him. He pushed her hungrily against the wall, pulling at her dress as she pulled his sports coat off. They were making out passionately when she suddenly stopped, looking at his spotless, if sparse, living room.
“I’ve never been in your apartment this long.”
“You can have the tour after.” He said, pulling her back to him. He kicked his shoes off, his hands still roaming aggressively across her body. Her dress wasn’t especially formfitting, it wasn’t even that formal, but it fit her beautifully. Her hair was beginning to dampen as the snow melted, curling up ever so slightly around her face.
When he looked at her he could her all the voices of every casting director he’d ever met, the kinds who seemed to derive not just joy, but sustenance, from nitpicking women’s appearances. Heard them criticizing the bump in her nose, the plainness of her downturned eyes, the drop of her cheekbones.
But he couldn’t help but be mesmerized by her. The sweetness in her gaze that could change so quickly to slyness with a flick of her eyebrows. The fullness of her lips, how she was always about to tug them into a comically expression. The way her skin seemed to be touched with gold in certain light, how she could be so gentle and then so cutting. How smart she was, how funny, how much he looked forward to seeing her, how much each day was better when she was there.
“Can I see your bedroom?” She said, wryly.
*
And then they were collapsing toward his bed, hands tangled in each other. John grabbed her from behind, bit her earlobe, pulled her tight, ran his hand up and down her breasts.
“Unzip my dress.”
He did, slowly, realizing it was a memory he’d want to save before pressing his mouth to her neck. She reached up behind him to run her hands through his hair, before turning around to unbutton his shirt.
John he had more lines under his eyes than he liked, and the light hair he’d always been complimented on was probably more gray than blonde, but he had a poise that didn’t go away with age. His movements were equal parts strength and grace. She liked every part of his body, couldn’t stop running her hands over the muscles of his chest, couldn’t help but keep breathing in his smell as they kissed. She wanted him to rip her clothes off and throw her on the bed, wanted to have his mouth on every single part of her body at once.
“You’re really beautiful, Tess,” He said. 25-year-old Johnny would have cringed at how corny he sounded but John had pushed him away.
Tess grinned at him, unclasping her bra and wiggling free from it, pulling him against her as she pushed his shirt off his back. Feeling her skin—soft and electric—against his—warm and tense. He pulled her close against him as he again slipped his fingers to her vulva, gently playing with her as she writhed underneath him.
“You feel really good,” She said, her voice almost a purr. “A little slower – yeah – like that. Yeah…yeah….” Her voice faded away, her eyes closed. She felt her chest tighten as he kissed her gently, teasing her by pulling away and then coming back.
“You like that?”
“Fuck—yeah I do.” He continued playing with her clitoris, tracing soft circles around her, as she whimpered. And then— a sharp intake of breath. “Oh fuck, I’m going to come. I’m—I’m-“
She reached out, grabbing the sheets beside her and he bent down to kiss her mouth again. She received him eagerly, opening her mouth fully to his. It was barely a kiss, just the two of them wrapping their tongues around each other, desperate to taste each other better.
Tess relaxed her body as the first wave of her orgasm spilled over her. There was always this feeling of lightness, like her bones were rising out of her skin, that washed over her. A sense of relief as ecstacy unfolded around her body. She bucked her hips upward, trembling, as she came hard against his hand. While she was moaning his name in the build-up, the moment before her climax she fell completely silent, focused solely on the intensity of her desire.
Her thighs tensed together, the muscles spasming, and he withdrew his hand slowly. Tess threw her head back, “That was amazing. Holy shit. I just—I need a moment.”
They kissed lazily, Tess rubbing his cock through his pants. She could feel how hard he was, which just turned her on even more. She couldn’t stop touching him. She knew he would be in incredible shape, she’d never met anyone who exercised with such routine vigor and discipline, but there was just a way he moved that she found incredibly alluring. She’d never been with a man as old as him, but there was something comforting about the lines around his eyes. A kindness that didn’t exist in some of the photos she’d seen of him as a young man, a roundness to his intensity that was always bubbling right under his skin. Her head was completely swimming, she could barely see or think straight she was so consumed by lust.
“Take your pants off,” She whispered. He shifted his weight to undress as she unfurled her tights from where they’d gotten caught on her shins. “Do you have a condom?”
“Yeah—hang on.”
He fumbled around in the drawer for a while and then laid next to her. Holding her, skin against skin, was incredible. He ran his hands down the curves of her body before opening the wrapper, she kissed his neck while he slowly rolled the condom down his cock.
They kissed passionately for a few moments as he awkwardly positioned himself above her. There was something funny, something playful, as they slightly fumbled towards each other, finding themselves finally in the positions they’d been fantasizing about. She bent her legs up, lifting her hips toward him, and reached out to guide him into her, slowly.
Their eyes locked as she received him, gasping slightly. As he slid in she closed her eyes and he bent low to kiss her. They began slowly, moving in an unfamiliar, slightly hitching rhythm. She raised her hips to meet him as he thrusted forward, wrapping one leg high around his back.
“You feel incredible,” He whispered between their kiss.
“I like feeling you inside of me—I like feeling you so deep.”
She guided his hands to her breasts, squeezing them together for him, whimpering into his mouth as they kept making out. His breath was getting ragged as he moved faster, harder, inside her. He could already tell he wasn’t going to last as long as he wanted to with her. His skin felt like it was on fire, like every part of his body was sparked by excitement. He pulled back from their kiss, placing his hand on her face, pressing his thumb against her lips. She wrapped her tongue around it immediately, sucking on his thumb and looking up at him with that sly, dark smirk.
He slowed their pace a little, trying to make the moment last longer. Tess had both her legs up around his back and was stroking the back of his head with the tips of her fingernails. “Don’t stop,” she murmured, over and over again. “Please don’t stop.”
He felt amazing inside of her, alternating between long, slow strokes and sudden, deep plunges. She liked feeling his weight on top of her, being able to trace the muscles of his back as their bodies clung to each other. They were both beginning to sweat as they became more frenzied, which just made her wetter. She liked feeling like an animal, like he was a savage rutting with her, overcome by a primal desire. He had dropped his head to her shoulder and was kissing her roughly around her neck, down to her breasts, up to hear ear, alternating his tongue with his teeth while she sucked on his finger.
“You have great tits,” He whispered in her ear, biting her earlobe softly.
“Kiss them.”
He did, immediately, alternating his mouth to her nipples. She liked having her breasts played with and he was able to be rough without hurting her, was able to follow her motions, asked if she liked it. Tess was completely losing track of time, lost in bliss, only able to focus on her lust. He was moving faster inside of her, thrusting hard and aggressively.
“You like it like this? Hard?” He said, teasingly. “You like feeling me inside of you?”
“Yes! God, yes! Fuck me, John!”
She dropped her legs from his back, splaying them out on the bed with her feet rubbing against his calves, and he dipped his hips lower against her. His pelvis bumped against hers with each thrust.
“Oh Johnny. Oh—god, yes—you’re driving me crazy.”
The crack in her voice put him over the edge. “I’m going to come.”
“Yes—John—yes, come for me, baby,” she whispered. “I want you to come for me.”
His knees buckled, a wave swept over him, and he collapsed against her, both of them breathing deeply. His head was beginning to bead with sweat against her neck, and when he pulled away she was smiling at him. And—he realized—he was beaming back at her, grinning like a fool.
John took his face in her hands and turned it toward his to kiss her again. She stretched her arms around his neck, opening her mouth as their tongues wrestled against each other. He reached to the foot of his bed, kicking up the folded quilt at the bottom to cover them.
With his arms pressed on the pillow, framing her face, he kissed her slowly, feeling every milimeter of her mouth against his. He pulled back slightly, breaking their deep kiss, and couldn’t help but stare at her face. The blanket tented over them, her face caught in the shadow and the light. And for a moment he couldn’t believe it was happening—the two of them, tangled, all her skin pressed against his, a desire he couldn’t admit he had hungered for. She giggled into her hand, tipping her face sideways against the pillow.
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