Charlie
“We need to distract you, Charl. This will be good for you.” Cat looks at me encouragingly. “You might actually meet a decent bloke here.”
I’ve been in a daze ever since I closed the door to his office.
We’re in a bar in Leicester Square, central London, waiting for a round of speed dating to start. Technically, Suze, Julie, and I are speed dating, but Cat and Stevie have tagged along to observe the mating rituals from afar.
We’ve spent the past hour dissecting the scene I walked into in Danny Walker’s office.
“Are you sure?” they kept asking.
“Yes, I recognise a dick when I see one,” I confirmed.
They’re sceptical.
I get it; it’s unbelievable.
Even I’m starting to think I imagined it. For five years I’ve worked in that company, and the most gossip we had was Jackie shagging the intern in the photocopier room.
Within one week, Danny Walker has bulldozed in, bribed me to leave, said I remind him of a stripper, and accidentally masturbated in front of me.
We change the conversation at the insistence of Stevie, who is sick of talking about Danny Walker’s beautiful dick.
God damn, that dick could be the star in a TV series.
“What about the Swedish guy?” Suze nudges me. “Focus, Charlie. Stop thinking about Danny Walker.”
I shake my head. “Nah. He’s gone silent.”
Stevie sniggers. “What did you do this time?”
“I’m not sure.” I take a sip of my wine, thinking. “He asked me what I wanted to do on our date, and I sent him a link to a taxidermy class in East London. Haven’t heard from him since.”
There’s silence.
“Taxidermy?” Cat repeats slowly.
“As in what the guy did in Psycho?” Stevie chimes in.
I nod. “Yes, that’s it. Taxidermy, stuffing animals.”
“Oh. What would you be stuffing?”
I shrug my shoulders. “A mouse. I spotted it on Timeout. I thought he would think I was adventurous. Remember our ‘try everything once’ pact?”
Cat frowns. “You never told me you’re interested in taxidermy.”
“You told the Swedish guy?” Stevie shakes his head.
I sit up defensively. “If I can’t be honest, there is no point pursuing it. If he’s not man enough for it—”
“Probably best to keep a bit of mystery sometimes, Charlie,” he butts in. “Considering you haven’t met the guy yet. For the next guy, just say that drinks are fine. Stick to the script. Best not to mention anything about your hobbies.”
I release a snort. “So, one little dead mouse frightens blokes away?”
He looks at me like I’m a moron. “Most blokes aren’t into women who dissect things. Makes them think there is a possibility of the woman going nuclear and one day chopping off their penis in a rage.”
I pause. “It might not have been the taxidermy.”
“There’s more?” Julie barks.
The four of them look at me tentatively. “Sweet Jesus, you didn’t tell him about the haemorrhoids, did you?”
I glare back at them. “No! Anyway, everyone gets haemorrhoids once in their lives!”
Cat turns to Stevie. “Not me, only Charlie.”
He humours her by nodding then turns back to me. “Your pulling techniques are terrible.”
“If he met you, he would realise how great you are.” Cat rubs my arm. “But Stevie’s right, when a guy chats over text, maybe you should just talk about going for dinner or something. Don’t let him see what you’re really like.”
Suze nods in agreement. “You do better in person.”
I tut. “That’s if people would follow through and meet me. I swear, in this day and age of online dating, people are disposable. All these men make plans then don’t follow through. I’ve had so many guys on Tinder contact me, and we’ll chat for a few days back and forth, then boom! Nothing!”
Stevie looks at us knowingly. “That’s because men are using the probability factor. They don’t just say yes to who they like, they say yes to everyone. If their success rate is twenty percent, they need to say yes to four women.”
“That’s disgusting,” I say, outraged. “And you can’t count.”
“Perhaps you’re not filthy enough?” Suze asks. “Have you considered uploading nude pics? You could cut off your head, so no one knows it’s you.”
I choke on my wine. “I’m not taking nude selfies, Suze.”
Cat shakes her head. “I don’t understand. What happened to the old days of meeting someone in a pub? Now people would rather search through pictures than talk to someone in the flesh.”
“We are living our lives online, and I’m sick of it.” I sigh. “Would it have been as romantic if Richard Gere found Julia Roberts on a porn app?”
Cat giggles. “Or Ryan Gosling found Rachel McAdams through Snapchat?”
“It’s too much! The guy I was talking to over Tinder, we haven’t met, and he asks me if I want to become friends on Snapchat. Why, I ask? Because we can send each other pictures. But what good will pictures do? I can’t talk to a picture.”
“Speaking of apps and hobbies, tomorrow we’re putting your songs on OpenMic,” Cat says firmly. “We’ve been talking about it for too long, Charlie. And that’s something you say on a date, not taxidermy.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine.”
We’ve been talking about putting my songs on OpenMic for a year. It’s a new app where people can rate your music. Ratings scare me. I don’t want to be judged and rated. My target audience, friends of my mothers, aren’t on OpenMic. But I need to shut Cat up once and for all.
Maybe we could put the songs up, then I’ll take them down on the sly a day later.
***
Thirty minutes later, Suze, Julie and I share a bar table, waiting for the first round of speed dating to commence. The women sit in allocated seats while the guys rotate. We’ve been given score cards where we write the blokes’ names down and an area to add comments, and we all have to wear name badges.
So clinical.
The first guy sits down in front of me. He’s short, suited, and wearing glasses. Not my type, but I’m happy to have a chat for two minutes.
“Hi.” I smile.
He peers at my name badge instead of meeting my gaze. “Sorry, I can’t read that. Could you move your arm?”
Is this guy for real?
“You could ask me my name instead?” I suggest.
He tries to see past my arm, which I refuse to budge.
I watch him write down ‘Charlie’ in very clear handwriting.
“Charlie.” He sits up straight, pushing his glasses up his nose as if he’s doing an inspection. “What do you do for a living?”
I’m bored now, and it’s not even a minute in. “I work in I.T.”
He nods approvingly and writes down ‘IT’ on the comment section beside my name. Clearly, I’ve ticked a box on his checklist.
“Great, and what’s your favourite colour?”
I stare at him. “Why? What can you do with that information?” I don’t have a favourite colour, it depends on my mood.
“Let’s move on. Favourite animal?”
Sweet Jesus, I’m being interviewed by a four-year-old.
“My favourite animal? To do what with, eat? Breed? Ride? Taxidermy?”
He looks at me, waiting.
“You want a definitive answer? Fine. Rat.”
His eyes narrow.
A phone bleeps.
“Is that the bell ringing?” I ask with feigned regret. “Times up, I think.”
“No, it’s a phone,” he deadpans. “Do you like travelling?”
I glare over at Julie, who forced this on me.
“Twenty-five fucking quid,” I mouth when she catches my eye. “Yes, I like travelling.”
I turn back to my date. I need this bell to ring.
“Where have you been?”
“In my life?”
He nods.
“You want me to list all the countries I have been to in my life?”
He’s waiting.
“Right, well how about I’ll decrease the scope to this year, shall I? India and Seattle.”
Our vibrant conversation is interrupted by the bell to signal we move on to the next date.
I glance over at the guy leaving Suze to join me. He looks about eighteen.
Jesus Christ.
We have twenty men to get through. It’s going to be a long night.
***
Despite our best efforts, speed dating doesn’t deliver us the men of our dreams, so we head home empty handed at 11 p.m.
It wouldn’t have mattered if a Hollywood movie star had rocked up for a date; seeing Danny Walker in all his fierce, naked glory has now ruined my future love life. Every dick past this point will be sub-optimal.
My mind is still racing from the bizarre events of the day.
I hiccup loudly. I’m drunk after resorting to a round of shots to get me through the last five speed dates.
We turn the corner to our flat and I stop abruptly on the pavement, making Cat walk into the back of me.
“Jeez, Charlie, watch it.”
There’s a black Aston Martin parked across the road from the flat. On our street, it sticks out a mile.
My heartbeat races. I recognise the number plate from Tristan’s house.
He’s here.
Why is he on my street? Does he know that I live here? He is breaking so many rules in one day; it’s a tabloid’s wet dream. My wet dream too.
Thankfully I’m wearing the black dress.
I climb the steps to the flat with the four of them chatting gibberish around me, oblivious to my heart palpitations. I can’t focus on a word they’re saying.
“Cat,” I mutter without moving my lips. “Get your keys out NOW.”
“Alright, keep your knickers on,” she huffs, fumbling in her purse.
I stare tunnel-visioned at the flat and ignore the Aston Martin.
I’m not brave enough to look over at the driver; my knees might give out. This is my territory. He’s not supposed to be here. I can handle him in glitzy bars or talking on stage at events, not here outside my flat.
Once we are in the hallway, I slam the door closed, collapsing up against it.
What now? Knowing he is metres away is bringing on an angina attack. What the hell is he doing here?
Is he here to issue me an injunction order to stop me talking about what I walked in on? Or personally deliver a P45? I’ve never been in this situation, but I’m pretty sure this is his fault. OK, I did just barge in, but I wasn’t expecting a naked dick to be on display.
It’s a tech company, not a titty bar.
Is it even legal to masturbate in an office? Regardless if he owns the company? I’ve no time to consult the resident lawyer, Julie.
He knows I’m here. I’m so not prepared for this. Everything I said before was Big Girl Talk, empty bluffs, shit-talking.
Sure enough, the buzzer goes. He doesn’t waste time.
I freeze, gripping the inside of the door.
“Did you order a takeaway?” Cat walks into the hall and stares at me questioningly. “It doesn’t open by leaning against it, you know.”
“Cat,” I hyperventilate. “It’s Danny Walker.”
She halts mid-step. “Here?”
Both of our eyes widen when we hear another persistent buzz.
“How do you know it’s him?”
“The car was outside.”
“Oh.” Her mouth falls open. “Are you going to let him in?”
“I don’t know.” I swallow, staring back at her. “My head’s spinning from the shots. I can’t think straight.”
The bell buzzes again.
Julie charges into the hallway. “Who the hell is buzzing?”
Cat looks at her meaningfully. “It’s Danny Walker.”
“Here?” Julie barks.
I nod, biting my lip.
“Interesting.” She smirks. “Dammit, girl, you have him by the balls! Take them!”
“I don’t know what that means,” I hiss back.
“It means take control, Charlie,” says Julie incredulously, yanking a button open on my black dress. “This is your territory. Seduce him.”
Before I can stop her, Julie leans over me and presses the button to open the door.
“And take off those massive pants, for Fuck’s sake!” she snaps. “He’ll see you have no VPL. Works every time.”
I hear the outside front door of the house open and slam shut, then heavy footsteps climb the stairs.
There’s a loud knock on our flat door.
Cat scuttles down the hall, grinning, followed by Julie mouthing ‘take them off.’
In the absence of a well-thought-through strategy, I whip my underwear off and stuff them behind the radiator.
On the other side of the door, he clears his throat with more than a hint of impatience.
I stealthily retreat a few steps into the hallway to pretend I haven’t been hiding behind the door, then take loud deliberate steps back towards the door.
Trying to slow my breathing, I swipe the latch and open the door, meeting his gaze head-on.
“Danny?” I say, my voice pitched too high.
He’s wearing his tailored blue suit from work minus the suit jacket. The white shirt is rolled up to his elbows, showing his gorgeous, tanned arms layered with dark hairs.
His eyes rake down my body and back up again, a cynical smile reaching them as he fixes his stare back on my face.
I feel it in my gut.
“Nice dress. Suits you.”
“What are you … why are you here?” Standing in the doorway, I shift my weight from one foot to another.
He looks taken aback. “I’m here to apologise.”
Not a single speed date came close to making me quiver like that dry Scottish voice does.
His brows rise. “Can I come in?”
“I guess.” I open the door wider, and he follows me down the hallway.
Stevie and the girls are sitting transfixed on the sofa, blatantly eavesdropping. They might as well have popcorn in their hands.
“Mr. Walker,” Stevie mumbles, eyes like saucers.
He greets them with a curt nod then turns to me. “Can we go somewhere private?”
“We only have one living room. So it will have to be my bedroom?”
Hesitance flickers over his face, then he nods his consent.
“OK,” I shrill, mentally visualising the state of my bedroom. “This way.”
He follows behind me, the scent of his cologne filling the hallway. Damn, that’s delicious.
I push open the bedroom door. It’s worse than I imagined. “I wasn’t expecting visitors.”
I flinch as his eyes scan the room. There are clothes and underwear mixed in with shoes and books all over the floor. As if I’m boycotting wardrobes.
“Take a seat.” I beckon to my pink armchair in the corner.
He lifts a collage of large underwear from the armchair, holding them out in his hands. “What would you like me to do with these?”
Shit. My time of the month pants. Nobody on this earth should be exposed to those except for me.
“I’ll take those,” I say, snapping them from him and bundling them under a pillow.
He squeezes into my dainty chair, looking entirely out of place, his thick legs spreading outwards.
He’s too big, too manly, too overwhelming for my room. It dawns on me that this is the first proper man I’ve had in here.
I perch on the side of the bed, facing him, very aware of my pantyless state. If I move my legs at all, he’ll see everything.
“Drink?” I ask, trying to sound casual.
“No. I’m OK. I’ve got a work call after this. I can’t drink any more this evening.” He smiles politely, leaning back in the chair.
After what?
I watch him, not knowing where to go from here, then break the silence. “Have you been out this evening?”
His shirt looks crumpled, and there is a faint smell of scotch coming from him. “I did the opening speech at a start-up awards ceremony,” he explains casually. “Over in Canary Wharf.”
Of course, he did.
Presenting at an awards ceremony is just another night for him. No different to the movies or a takeaway.
“See any companies you want to take over?”
“A few,” he replies deadpan, my sarcastic tone wasted on him. He studies me with a hint of suspicion. “Where were you tonight?”
“At an eighteen-to-thirty-something speed dating event,” I admit.
“Eighteen to thirty,” he repeats slowly. Something flares in his eyes, annoyance, perhaps? It’s gone before I can decipher it. “What about the Ben bloke?”
“We’re not together anymore.” My stomach flutters. “I’m single,” I add for the avoidance of doubt.
“I see.” He looks at me with an unreadable expression. “See anyone you liked … at this speed dating event?”
“No. No one interested me.” Not like you, judging by the growing slickness between my legs as my bare flesh creates friction with the bed.
“I prefer older men,” I announce with bravery fuelled by Tequila. “Someone harsh, rough, bossy. Someone who will put me in my place.”
Take the hint, man.
His eyes darken.
“You’re better off with someone your own age.”
I squeeze my legs tight together to hide my arousal.
I know I’m not imagining this. The sexual current in the room could be sliced with a knife.
He’s just as unhinged as I am.
A sound comes from his pocket and we both look down at the interruption as he grapples to retrieve his phone.
“Sorry.” He switches the phone to silent mode. “There’s a critical call with the States tonight.”
“Take it if you want,” I offer, but he waves at me dismissively.
“It’s OK. I’ll leave soon and deal with it.”
If this is a fleeting visit, why is he here?
“I get it.” It dawns on me. “You’ve come here to shut me up about today. To make sure I don’t report you to HR.”
He frowns, cocking a brow at me. “I’m not worried about that. You came into the CEO’s office unannounced.” A smirk threatens his lips. “In fact, I could give you a warning.”
“To stop me telling Tristan then,” I say, huffily.
“Obviously, it would be preferable he didn’t find out, but no, that’s not the reason I came here.”
My eyes follow his jawline as he runs a hand over his stubble.
“I’m here to apologise. I shouldn’t have put you in that position. My actions were inexcusable. I just want you to know that’s not something I do in the office. It was a one-off.”
His fists clench around the sides of the armchair.
“I never meant for you to walk in on that.” His voice is strained. “I locked the door. Or rather, I thought I had.”
“I shouldn’t have barged in,” I admit, crossing and recrossing my legs. I can’t keep still. Not when he’s here in my room.
“In my defence, you could have immediately shut the door.” His lips twitch slightly. “If you tell Tristan, you’ll have to explain to him how you stayed until the end.”
“I wanted to see what part of the video you would finish to,” I fire back.
He swears under his breath. “I didn’t think you saw that.”
For the first time since I’ve known him, I see a flush rise in his cheeks. Not so sure of yourself now are you, Mr. Walker?
“It was me, right?” I probe, needing to be certain.
His eyes darken to almost black as he looks back and forth between mine. “You know it was you.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “How did you get the video?”
He pauses for a long moment. “I lost my watch and asked the bar for footage. You happened to be on it.”
I look down at the expensive watch safely on his wrist and raise a brow.
Now I’m confident I’m not imagining this. The chemistry charges between us, and he feels it as much as I do. He wants me as much as I want him.
“Why were you watching a video of me?” I whisper, already knowing the answer. “That footage was of me, and I’m not a watch thief.”
His square jaw clenches. “I think you know why, Charlie. Do I need to answer that?”
I squirm, creating friction with the bed against my exposed clit. Wearing no underwear has tricked my core into thinking I’m getting fucked by him tonight, and I’m so ready, so swollen with need, I could explode just by rubbing against the bed.
He hasn’t even touched me yet.
Our eyes lock, and I know he’s having the same carnal thoughts as me. He wants to fuck me right here as hard as he can.
“Say it,” I whisper.
He stares back at me through hooded eyes, the room so quiet I can hear his laboured breathing.
I part my thighs slightly. Just enough to give him a teaser, basic instinct style. I’ve never been this brazen before, not even with boyfriends.
His eyes drop downwards, and a tortured groan erupts from his throat. “Stop it, Charlie. You’re drunk.”
“Stop what?” I pout innocently, noticing with delight his trousers straining with an increasing bulge.
I swing my legs innocently over the side of the bed.
“What the fuck are you playing at?” he whispers hoarsely, squirming in the seat. “This won’t end well.”
“Answer me,” I demand, my eyes big. “Why were you watching that video?”
He glares at me, his knuckles clenched around the chair.
I glance down at his large, calloused hands and think about what they could do between my legs.
“Because I was imagining bending you over my desk, deep inside you, giving you the best orgasm you’ve ever had in your life.”
I stop breathing. The words send an electric shock straight to my clit.
I want him buried deep in me now. I need him to fuck me so hard I beg him to stop. I need him to make me orgasm so loudly the entire street hears me.
The phone lights up on his knee as another call comes in.
“Put some underwear on, Charlie,” he orders, his eyes almost begging me. “Before I do something I regret.”
I smirk back at him. “It’s my bedroom. I don’t think your authority extends to bossing me around here.”
“Don’t push me,” he growls, his lips drawing into a thin line. His mouth says one thing, but the massive tent in his trousers says another.
I get up from the bed and take a step towards him. Before I can lose my nerve, I take his hand, prizing open the clenched knuckle.
“It’s not fair to deprive me of my best ever orgasm,” I say softly, trailing his hand up my bare leg.
“Stop, Charlie.” He freezes as his hand approaches my inner thigh. “This isn’t happening.”
I ignore him.
“I mean it, stop,” he repeats, his voice strained, making a half attempt to remove his hand.
His body disagrees as he widens his legs so I can stand in between them.
I lift my dress up so it bunches around my belly, and push my thighs against his knees as wide as I can. Now he can see everything. I’m pink, swollen, and soaking wet.
“You’re soaking,” he groans, running his tongue over his teeth.
“I’ve been wet ever since seeing my boss in a compromising position today,” I whisper as he stares mesmerized at my slit. “I’ve been fantasizing about it ever since.”
The tent in his trousers strains against the fabric, and he shudders, closing his eyes in an attempt to compose himself. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
When he opens them again, he looks at me with such pure carnal need, a gasp escapes me. “Open your pussy wide,” he growls. “Let me see.”
I’m so needy I obey without objection, stretching my slit open with my fingers.
“Yes,” he groans, unable to tear his eyes away. “That’s the most beautiful sight I have ever seen.”
My pussy muscles clench as I imagine myself wrapping around his thick cock, swallowing it up.
“Charlie,” he whispers darkly, his eyes holding mine. “You’re so ready for me.”
I’m so ready for him, it’s embarrassing. I’ve never been this overly sexual, this desperate for a man. Nothing else matters but my need to come hard here and now, to leave him no doubt about how he leaves me a horny, quivering, hot mess.
His phone buzzes again angrily on his knee.
“Piss off, Karl,” he mutters, firing it on the floor.
With one hand, I hold up my dress while my other hand tentatively runs over my slit. “I’ve never done this in front of anyone before,” I whisper in a moment of insecurity.
“Fuck.” His jaw clenches hard as he tries to repress the indisputable lust holding him in turmoil. “That’s the sexiest damn thing I’ve ever heard.”
I slide my fingers in and out of my wetness, letting out a soft moan as I imagine his fingers exploring me, fucking me.
“Good girl. Do it for me,” he growls. “Push your fingers deeper into your pussy.”
I thrust deeper, my breath becoming shorter and faster as my head rolls back.
“No. Look at me,” he scowls. “You need to look at me when you come.”
I focus my gaze back on him as I thrust two fingers into my swollen flesh again, moaning loudly.
He looks at me like he’s just been given the gift of sight.
I part my thighs wider, going deeper with my fingers, the sound of my slickness becoming faster and heavier in the air, consuming both of us.
My fingers find my swollen clit, and I rub my most sensitive spot in such a way so that he can see how pink and aroused it is. How much it is swelling for him.
His eyes stay fixed on my opening.
“Danny,” I beg. “I want to see you. I want to see how turned on you are.”
He sucks in a breath and closes his eyes. “If I take my cock out, it’s going inside you.” The threat in his voice makes me shiver. “I won’t be able to stop.”
My legs shake as my circular movements grow frantic and furious, my moans quick and desperate. “I want to feel you,” I say breathlessly. “I’m so close.”
He exhales heavily and jerks in the seat, his length bursting to be let out of his suit trousers. “I want to,” he whispers, placing a hand over his hard cock. “So damn badly.”
The look in his eyes of raw, animalistic lust tips me over the edge.
“Fuck me, Danny, please,” I cry out, on the verge of breaking. “I want you inside me.”
His eyes squeeze into thin slits as he struggles for control.
The sound of his phone repeatedly buzzes on the floor.
I let out a final cry as my arousal bubbles out of control and collapse on top of him. I close my eyes, breathing hard.
Buried under my hair, I hear him attempting to steady his own raspy breathing.
“You’ve just ruined me forever,” he growls from below me. “I’ll never fucking recover from this.”
I straighten up, grinning, with a post-orgasm rush.
“Charlie.” He sighs, running his hands through his hair as the phone never stops. “I need to answer this.”
Lifting the phone up, he gets to his feet and pushes me away gently.
I hear the furious voice of Karl down the phone. “What the fuck, man?” Karl roars. “Where are you? You were supposed to be on the call ten minutes ago. Are you trying to blow this fucking five million quid deal?”
Danny’s eyes connect with mine as he grimaces. “Cool it, Karl, I’ll be on in five minutes. I’m going to the car now.”
“You’re taking this conference call in your fucking car, Danny?” I’ve never heard Karl so angry, and I’ve definitely never heard him shout at Danny before. “Why are you not in your home office? The awards thing finished two hours ago! Where the hell are you? Do you know how unprofessional this looks?”
“Give me a minute, Karl.” He switches onto mute, his expression pained and flustered as he locks eyes with mine. His voice switches to a soft tone: “I really have to go, Charlie.”
“It’s OK.” I smile. “But in case you forget …”
I take his hand and trail it along my opening, still wet with arousal.
He groans, then his hands grip the back of my hair and pull my mouth onto his, attacking it furiously with his lips.
I open my mouth wide in response, my tongue meeting his with the same hunger he pushes into mine. I feel his hard length up against my stomach, and he pushes a finger deep into my core, making me cry out in his mouth.
“Seems like you’ve broken your promise of no touching,” I moan softly.
He releases his wet finger from between my legs. “Seems like I have.”
Then he’s gone through the door with a furious Karl berating him down the phone, leaving me a sticky mess.
