Bird and the Blonde
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A Bird In The HandChapter 5 free porn video
My problems with Kendall weren’t going to solve themselves. I felt like sulking, but that wouldn’t help either, so I threw myself into work. I had more than enough to keep me busy.
The crews had to sand, stain, and wax the hardwood floors in the bungalows, and finish any paint touch-ups. In addition, the landscaper and her assistant began planting the beds along the front. At the Colonial Revival house, the electrical and plumbing subcontractors were doing finish work.
Blackie and Trip managed things at the Revival house, while Mike and I did the same at the bungalows. We spent most of our time looking over the houses and working down the punch lists. Junior probably grumbled about my new status, but I didn’t give him a second thought—I didn’t have time.
When the crews finished for the day, Trip and Blackie returned so we could go over the schedule. We had a lot of things happening at once, and it made my head hurt to think about it all.
Trip, Blackie, and Mike did most of the talking, but they looked at me when they needed design decisions. I was up to my eyeballs in details, but I could “see” the final design in my head. I simply had to close my eyes, picture what we were talking about, and give them an answer. We ended the meeting with a detailed list of things we needed to do.
Trip and I picked up pizza on the way home. It was fattening, but I didn’t care. I simply wanted to collapse, preferably within reach of the phone. Kendall and I were drifting apart—except when it came to sex, of course—so I took a shower, grabbed a slice of pizza, and dialed her number.
We talked for half an hour. She told me about her medical school application, but I didn’t ask many questions. I simply wasn’t interested. I hated to admit it, even to myself, but I was too tired to kid myself.
I felt guilty when she asked about the houses. I told her about the day’s meeting, and she sounded impressed that the older men asked me about so many things. Unfortunately, I wasn’t nearly as impressed as she was—Blackie and Mike could’ve made all the decisions themselves. They weren’t patronizing me, but they were definitely asking my opinion when they didn’t really need to.
Kendall said she could hear how tired I was, so she told me she loved me. I said I loved her, and we hung up. Trip emerged from his bedroom a few minutes later. He chuckled when he saw how tired I was.
“Don’t worry,” he said, “it’s always like this at the end of a renovation.” He pulled two beers from the fridge and sank to the couch beside me. “I’m totally wasted by the time I finish work for the summer.”
“Then why are we pushing so hard to get ahead of schedule? Why not slow down and finish on time?”
“I want a vacation, even a short one.” He laughed harshly. “Actually, I need a vacation. We both do.”
“No kidding.”
“So that’s why I’ve been pushing. We’ll pay a bonus to the crews, but it’ll be worth it. After everything is said and done, we should make ten grand.”
I whistled softly and wondered what I’d do with five thousand dollars.
“Each,” he added.
My jaw dropped. “You mean we’re going to make ten thousand dollars each?”
“A little more, actually. No guarantees, though. We still have a lot of work to do, and something could go wrong, but yeah, about that.”
“Holy shit,” I said, low and soft.
“No kidding. And if interest rates continue to fall—they were crazy last year ... nineteen and twenty percent—then the housing market will pick up. We already saw some of it this year with the rates at fourteen and fifteen percent. Which means, O partner of mine, next year should be even better.” He shot me a sidelong look. “If you’re up for it, that is.”
“Yeah, I’m up for it.”
I whistled again. Ten thousand dollars!
The rest of the week was more of the same: twelve-hour workdays, a shower, something completely unhealthy to eat, and a phone call to Kendall. We never talked long. Either I was too tired, or she had something she needed to do. It was better than before, but most of our conversations were missing something. A spark, maybe.
I also got a letter from Gina. She was wrapping up her job at the hospital, and getting ready for her parents to visit before school started. She was also beginning to think about where she wanted to go to medical school. Her short list included UC San Francisco, Johns Hopkins, and Harvard.
After looking at her list, I wondered why she came to UT in the first place. The College of Architecture was cutting edge, but the pre-med program was nothing special. Not compared to UCLA, at least. I knew the answer, but it hurt to think that I had been more important to Gina than her future.
I was in a melancholy mood when I wrote her back. I wanted to tell her about my relationship problems, but she didn’t particularly like Kendall, for obvious reasons. She wouldn’t gloat, but I didn’t want to put her in an awkward situation. So I told her about work, life with Trip, and everything but what I really wanted to talk about.
I still felt glum on Friday. I wanted to spend the weekend with Kendall, but she and her parents planned to visit her sick great aunt, somewhere near Bristol, Tennessee. Trip had plans as well, although they included a long meeting with the woman who did our bookkeeping and payroll. I wasn’t looking forward to sitting home alone.
Wren came to my rescue.
“Hi,” she said when I answered the phone. “What’re you doing?”
“I just got home from work. Why? What’s up?”
“I know it’s last-minute,” she said, “but what’re you doing tomorrow?”
I shrugged. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
“Perfect!”
“Excuse me?”
“I need you,” she said.
“What for?”
“I need a date. But not just any date—I need a birthday date.”
She was talking in circles, and I was too tired to follow. “What?”
“I need a date for my birthday, silly,” she said. “A bunch of us are planning to hit a club downtown. It was originally gonna be just us girls, but they all wanted to invite their boyfriends. Now I’m the only girl without a date. How’s that gonna look? The birthday girl without a date?”
Despite my exhaustion, I chuckled. “No, that definitely won’t work.”
“So I thought to myself, ‘Who’s the only guy I know who’ll fly into town just to see little ol’ me?’ Actually, you were third on the list, but the other guys’ Learjets are in the shop.”
I couldn’t decide whether to laugh or complain.
“Will you do it, Paul?” she asked, completely sincere. “Please?”
I recovered my composure and needled her. “What about the other guys? They might get their Lears fixed in time.”
“Now you’re just being hateful,” she teased. Then her voice turned soft and a little pleading. “Please, Paul. I wouldn’t ask anyone but you.”
“Sure,” I said at last. “It sounds like fun. Besides, I wouldn’t want those Lear guys to take advantage of you.”
“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I’ll make it worth your while. I promise.”
“Just give me a goodnight kiss,” I said, ever the gentleman.
“With tongue, or without?”
I laughed. “With, of course.”
“You got it!”
We talked about details for a few minutes. I tried not to gape when I realized how much her father was spending on her. Not only was he paying for dinner—at his own restaurant, of course, but still expensive—he was footing the bill for a limo and then drinks and dancing at one of the hottest clubs in Atlanta.
“Oh, Paul,” Wren said at last, “I can’t wait to see you. Thank you so much.”
When I rolled into the pattern at DeKalb-Peachtree Airport, I was fifth in line, behind a Beech King Air. Twenty minutes later I secured the tie-downs and headed for the parking lot.
Unfortunately, my dad’s Karmann Ghia wasn’t where it was supposed to be. I spent fifteen minutes searching for it—fruitlessly—in the hopes that he’d simply parked it somewhere else. I finally decided that he was on a trip, which meant the car was at Hartsfield, so I went back to the FBO and called a cab.
At home, I debated whether or not to borrow Dad’s Corvette to run my errands. The debate lasted less than a minute, since I knew that he wouldn’t mind, as long as I was careful. So I rumbled out of the garage and headed toward the mall.
I shopped for a while, but without much luck. Since I was masquerading as Wren’s ex-boyfriend, I couldn’t simply get her a stuffed bear. I couldn’t get her a diamond ring, either. Wrong message. Clothes were out—too staid or too personal—and lingerie was right out, no matter how much I wanted to see her in it.
I finally settled on a diamond tennis bracelet. The diamonds were chips, but it still cost more than I thought I should spend. Wren would like it, though, and the saleswoman even gift-wrapped the box for me.
When I got home I had to rush to get ready. I nearly cut myself shaving, and was barely dressed when I heard the doorbell. In a rush, I straightened my tie, shrugged into my suit coat, and raced for the door. I yanked it open just as Wren rang the bell again.
She beamed when she saw me. Her hair was done up in soft curls, and she wore a black cocktail dress that showed off her body. I didn’t even have time to admire her before she threw her arms around my neck and pulled me down for a sound kiss.
When she finally stepped back, I blushed at the limo driver’s studied disinterest. He was standing by the car, holding the door open, and doing his best to look professional. Wren let me go so I could close the front door. Then I offered my arm, and she looped hers through it. In the back of the limousine, she introduced me to the couple already there.
“This is Scarlett, my cousin,” she said, “and her boyfriend, Mitch.”
I nodded to Scarlett and shook Mitch’s hand.
We made small talk until we reached the Wellington House, where we met three more couples. Wren introduced everyone, and I tried to memorize names and faces. The guys wore suits, and the girls were dressed for a night on the town, but Wren and Scarlett stood out.
Dinner was the best I’d had in weeks, and the conversation around the table was lively. Wren opened her gifts after the waiter cleared the plates. She opened mine first, and gave me a kiss as she modeled the bracelet for the other girls. The rest of her presents were the usual mix of serious and gag gifts.
Her father was working, but the waiter must have told him that she was opening presents, because he appeared a few minutes later. He asked if we were enjoying ourselves, and if we needed anything. Then he pulled a slim box from his breast pocket.
“Here you are, sweetheart,” he said to Wren. “One last gift for you to open.”
She unwrapped it and gasped. It was a heart-shaped diamond pendant with a pale green stone in the center. I helped her put it on, and the girls oohed and aahed as her father looked on.
“Oh my God, it’s beautiful,” Wren said. “Thank you, Dad.”
“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”
The waiter arrived with champagne and a birthday cake, and we thoroughly embarrassed her by singing “Happy Birthday.”
Afterward, her father walked with us to the parking lot and said goodbye as we piled into the limousine for the ride to the club. Wren sat on my lap in the back, with Scarlett on Mitch’s lap next to us. The other couples squeezed onto the L-shaped front bench.
One of the guys opened a bottle of champagne from the limo’s bar. We finished several more on the way, so everyone had a happy buzz by the time we reached the club. The doormen ushered us inside like we owned the place. They had a private table waiting for us, a big round booth in the corner. The waitress took our drink orders, more champagne, but no one sat down. Instead, we headed for the dance floor.
I wasn’t the greatest dancer in the world, but I didn’t embarrass myself. The music had a driving beat, a mixture of disco and new wave. Trip probably could’ve told me the names of the bands, but I was paying too much attention to Wren to care.
We finally returned to the table after five or six songs. Wren slid into the booth and pulled me with her. I filled her glass and then my own. She leaned close to my ear.
“Thank you for coming,” she said. “I knew you’d be my knight in shining armor.”
Scarlett and Mitch returned a few minutes later, and we quickly finished the bottle. We opened another and poured everyone a fresh round when the other couples returned from the dance floor.
Wren and Scarlett started giggling and put their heads together to talk, so I struck up a conversation with the guy next to me. He was a junior at Emory, majoring in business. The music was loud, so we had to shout to talk, but neither of us seemed to care. Then Wren got my attention.
“Scarlett doesn’t think you love me,” she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Of course I love her,” I shouted over the din. “Who wouldn’t?”
“Then kiss her, you fool!” Scarlett said.
I’d had enough champagne that I thought it was a good idea, so I turned Wren’s face and tilted it up. My lips met hers and parted. She moaned softly, her breath tart from the champagne. When we finally pulled back, she was breathing heavy, her eyes glassy.
“Happy birthday,” I said.
She blinked to clear her head and immediately reached for her champagne. She drained the glass in one swallow, and held it out for more. Mitch grinned and filled it. Scarlett’s eyes practically glowed as she smiled at me.
While the waitress brought more champagne, we headed back to the dance floor. Wren plastered herself against me, and I quickly realized that she was drunk. Not falling-down drunk, but playful and bold. She drew my head down and whispered in my ear.
“Thank you for being my boyfriend tonight. It really means a lot.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I’ll make it worth your while.”
“You already are.”
She pulled back and gave me a serious, searching look. Then she turned mischievous again, and ran her hands down my chest. With a sultry grin, she pressed her breasts together with her upper arms.
The strap of her dress slid off her shoulder, and she pretended to look surprised. When it slid further, I thought I could see the top of her nipple. I reached up and grasped the thin cord. Our eyes met, and hers flashed a challenge.
Without breaking eye contact, I slid the strap back into place. Her nostrils flared at my cool smile. Then she used my tie to pull me along, her hips swaying with the beat. We reached the edge of the dance floor, where she turned and pulled me close.
Her face tilted up, and I met her lips with my own. Since no one could see, she caressed my dick with one hand, while the other twined through my hair and held me close. She gave my dick a final squeeze and then broke the kiss. Her eyes were hooded and coy, innocent.
I couldn’t help but laugh. She merely smirked and led me back to the table. The other couples were there, and we quickly finished another bottle of champagne. Scarlett and Mitch rejoined us a moment later, flushed from dancing.
Wren leaned against me, but her right hand disappeared beneath the table. She rested it on my inner thigh and slid it toward my hard-on as she talked to Scarlett. I decided to tease right back, so I put my arm around her and toyed with the strap of her dress. With each pass, I wandered further down the strap, until I slid under the dress itself. I wasn’t close to her nipple, but the touch was nearly as intimate.
Scarlett watched with rapt attention. Her eyes flicked between Wren, me, and my finger. Mitch was shouting a conversation across the table, so he didn’t notice the byplay.
Wren moved her hand, edging closer to my dick. I moved closer to her nipple. She pulled back, so I pulled back. She moved closer, so I moved closer. We played our game of one-upmanship for several minutes, until the waitress arrived with more champagne.
“God, you’re evil,” Wren finally said in my ear. “You have no idea how hot I am right now.”
“Well, you know how hard I am.”
She flashed a smug smile and sipped her champagne.
After a while we headed to the dance floor again. She danced close and teased me with glimpses down her dress. She repeated the trick with the falling strap, but I resisted the temptation. Instead, I slid the cord up her shoulder. Two could tease, after all.
She huffed and upped the ante. By the time we left the dance floor, I was glad I’d worn a dark suit, since it hid my erection.
Unfortunately, two of the other girls had drunk way too much champagne, and were nearly asleep in the booth. The third girl was bleary-eyed, but coherent. Wren and Scarlett were both drunk, but neither showed signs of slowing down. Most of the guys were sober enough.
Still, Mitch leaned close and shouted, “We’d better go, man.”
I nodded and broke the news to Wren. I thought she’d be upset, but she merely nodded. The girls went to the bathroom together—Wren, Scarlett, and the third girl helped the two who’d drunk too much. Mitch tapped my shoulder and nodded toward the men’s room.
Inside, some guy was doing lines of coke from a mirror on the counter. He looked awful—red eyes and nose, with a sheen of sweat covering his pale skin—but he offered us a line. Mitch turned him down flat. I tried to hide my surprise, but Mitch saw.
“Do a line if you want, man,” he said.
I quickly shook my head. “I don’t touch the stuff.”
“Me neither.”
“What about the others?” I asked as we stepped to the urinals.
He shook his head. “Nobody in our crowd does. We’re not losers.” He laughed. “I thought you might be a cokehead, though.”
I looked a question at him.
“You’ve got the look, you know?”
“What look?”
“Fancy suit, good looks, slick moves. You know the type.”
I knew the type, all right. His name was Rod Fortner.
“I’m glad you’re cool, though,” Mitch said. “One of us.”
I nodded, and we washed our hands together. Mitch made a face as he wiped stray white powder from the countertop. He dusted his hands and raised his voice. “Fucking cokeheads!” But the guy was already gone.
I laughed and we headed back to the table. The girls returned ten minutes later, and we gathered our things. I stayed with Wren so she could pay the bill. I didn’t see what the total was, but I probably didn’t want to. Wren seemed surprised, but she handed over her father’s American Express.
“I really owe my dad for this one,” she said quietly.
I put my arm around her and she pressed close. She was more relaxed, less flirty. Maybe she realized she couldn’t tease me all night long. Maybe she was saving up for a bigger tease. Maybe she was just tired.
After she signed the check and put the card back in her purse, we walked out arm in arm. I followed her into the limo, and the driver headed toward the Wellington House to drop off the three couples. Wren laid her head against my chest, her arms around me.
At the restaurant, Mitch and I got out with the other couples. We helped the drunk girls into their boyfriends’ cars and then waited until they left the parking lot. Scarlett and Wren were talking quietly when we returned to the limo. Wren flashed me an uncharacteristically bashful look.
“I know it’s last-minute,” she whispered, “but do you mind if I spend the night at your house? I was going to stay with Scarlett, but ... you know.” She glanced at Mitch. “Since I’m with you, I thought...” She shrugged apologetically. “I know I should’ve asked you earlier, but ... I forgot.”
I chuckled. “No problem.”
The limo driver dropped Scarlett and Mitch at his apartment. Wren and I got out with them and said goodnight. Mitch and I shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. Scarlett kissed my cheek and smiled a knowing smile.
Mitch lived about twenty minutes from my house, so Wren and I relaxed for the ride home. I put my arm around her, but she turned and straddled my lap instead. I rested my hands on her firm thighs as she toyed with my tie. She smiled and straightened it. When she finally looked at me, her hazel eyes were full of conflicting emotions.
I started to say something, but fell silent instead.
She did the same. Then her lips parted as she moved closer.
I lifted my chin and drew her in. Her lips were soft at first, but she quickly cupped my face and kissed harder, her tongue seeking mine. Our breathing grew heavy as our kisses deepened. She pressed against me, her body firm through her dress.
She pulled back long enough to tilt her head and kiss my neck as her hands scrabbled for my tie. She tugged it loose and reached for my top button. Her kisses trailed down my neck toward my throat, and then up the other side.
I grunted when she kissed the hollow behind my jaw. She moaned and kissed me again, her lips hot against my skin. I ran my hands up her sides, holding her as she continued teasing the spot behind my ear.
She finally pulled back and looked at me, her eyes afire. Her lips found mine in a rush, her tongue insistent. I felt her tug her dress over her hips, so I cupped her ass. She ground her hips against me, her crotch seeking mine.
The limo came to a stop and I looked around in a daze. Wren simply planted another line of kisses down my neck and around to my ear. I was tempted to let her continue—it felt incredibly good—but the driver would lose patience long before I was ready to leave. So I pushed Wren away, and she seemed to come to her senses.
“Sorry,” she said. “I know we shouldn’t, but...”
“I know,” I said. “It’s all right. I...” I cleared my throat and wiped saliva from my lips with a grin. “It was nice.”
She smiled, her eyes twinkling in the dim light.
The driver got out when he felt us move toward the door. He was waiting when we stepped out. As soon as he saw Wren, he opened the trunk and fetched her overnight bag. I fished in my pocket for a tip and pulled out my emergency fifty. It was more than I wanted to give him, but I didn’t want to fumble for a smaller bill. So I folded it into my palm and waited.
The driver handed me the bag and I slipped him the tip, just like Susan had taught me. I actually managed to pull it off with a bit of finesse, and the driver nodded slightly, impressed. Then he caught a glimpse of the bill, and his professional expression slipped.
“Thank you, sir,” he said.
Wren gave me a funny look, but didn’t ask questions as I walked her toward the house. The driver waited until we were inside before he pulled away. I locked the front door and turned to Wren. She rushed into my arms. I dropped her bag in surprise as she practically climbed my chest and wrapped her legs around my waist. She showered me with kisses, insistent, eager, hungry.
I staggered and managed to pin her against the wall. She cupped my face and raised her chin as I kissed her neck. Her skin was soft and smooth, hot to the touch and musky with desire. My kisses trailed lower, down her chest. Her soft breasts heaved with her panting. I cupped them and squeezed gently, my lips seeking hers again.
What am I doing? I thought with alarm. I pulled back and tried to compose myself.
“I’m so sorry,” Wren said.
“It’s my fault.”
“No, it’s my fault. I’ve been teasing you all night. I’m so sorry.”
The strap of her dress had fallen down, and I reached up to fix it. Her eyes met mine. The entire night came back in a rush, all the teasing, all the flirting, and more. I started to lift the strap.
“Don’t,” she said.
I held her eyes. “This is going to be complicated,” I said at last.
“I don’t care.” She looked at her dress strap and then moistened her lips.
Time stood still.
I released my breath and yanked the strap down, exposing her breast. She ran her fingers through my hair as I sucked her nipple. I switched sides and bared her other breast. She gasped when I nibbled, but she pulled me closer.
She was panting with desire when I raised my lips and sought hers. She tugged off the straps and held my face again, her mouth as hungry as mine.
I carried her to my bedroom and kicked off my shoes without even untying them. She grabbed my tie and it flew with a hiss of silk. Her fingers worked at my buttons, and she kissed my bare chest, her lips hot and soft against my skin. I cupped her ass and squeezed, my fingers digging into her crack.
We tumbled to the bed. I shucked my jacket and shirt in one maneuver. She skinned the dress over her hips. Then she kicked it across the room as I reached for my belt.
“I’ll do it,” she said. The zipper hissed as she lowered it. She tugged my pants and boxers down, and my erection sprang into view.
She engulfed my dick, her lips smooth and supple. I threw my head back and grunted with pleasure as she swallowed half my length.
When I finally came to my senses, I pushed her back. Her nipples were hard, and she grinned as I reached for her panties. I tugged them over her legs and then kicked my pants away.
I picked her up and tossed her toward the head of the bed. She yelped with surprise, but grew quiet when I climbed between her legs and bent to kiss her taut belly. She quivered at my touch, her breasts heaving as I planted a line of kisses between them. My lips met hers, and she pulled me down.
“Oh, God,” she panted when we finally separated. “I want you so bad.”
I kissed her again.
She whimpered when I pulled away. I merely grinned and then lowered my lips to her nipples. I could’ve spent days enjoying her breasts, but I eventually moved lower. I ran my tongue around her navel, teasing until she cried out. She ran her fingers through my hair when I finally settled between her legs.
Her labia were plump and dark, fringed with hair. I almost laughed to myself—it had been a while since I’d gone down on a woman with pubic hair. But the smell of her desire hit me, and I didn’t care. I spread her open and teased her with my tongue.
She whimpered as I began licking in earnest. I circled her clit at the top of each lick, and ran my tongue between the folds of her inner and outer lips. The tang of her arousal filled my senses.
“Oh, God,” she gasped. “Yes!”
I licked her again, and flicked my tongue against the hooded pink pearl at the top of her slit. Then I pursed my lips and sucked gently. Her pubic hair tickled my nose, but she ran her fingers through my hair and lifted her hips. She was more assertive than Kendall, and—
I felt a wash of guilt at the thought of Kendall. Wren bucked her hips again, but I pulled back. I could taste her on my lips, feel her on my cheeks. My dick was so hard that it hurt, and my balls were ready to burst. But what about Kendall? I sighed in frustration.
I can’t do this.
Another part of me said, Why the fuck not?
The big head slowly wrested control from the little one. I wanted Wren more than anything in the world. She wanted me, but I couldn’t do it.
What had Trip said? Sometimes the right thing to do is also the hardest?
What does he know? the little head said. Fuck her!
No.
The one word was all it took, and I had control again. Unfortunately, I also had a problem. I climbed to all fours and held myself over her. She reached between us, and her fingers found my cock. She squeezed, and I felt a moment of vertigo as pleasure and guilt fought within me.
“God, you’re big,” she said, stroking my shaft as she pulled me toward her opening.
I tried to pull away, but she held me. “Wren,” I said at last, “I’m sorry.”
Her expression changed.
“I ... I can’t.”
“What? Are you worried about condoms?”
“It ... it’s not that.”
“I have some in my purse, but you don’t need them. It’s not that time of the month.” She didn’t understand—wouldn’t understand.
“Wren ... I ... I can’t.” I pulled away and sat back on my haunches. My dick hadn’t gotten the message. It was still hard, painfully so. “I’m sorry.”
“What do you mean, you’re sorry?”
“Wren, we can’t do this. I can’t do this.”
“What do you mean? I thought you wanted to.”
“I do want to,” I said. “That’s the problem.” I paused and clenched my fists in frustration. “What are we supposed to do, Wren? Is this a one-night stand? Or do we keep doing it, sneaking around when we’re back at school? Am I supposed to break up with Kendall? You said you wouldn’t want me if I did that.” I snorted in contempt, mostly at myself. “I wouldn’t want me if I did that.”
“But I thought...”
“I’m sorry, Wren. I like you—a lot—but I can’t do this. Not now, not like this. I want to, but...” I shook my head in frustration.
“You’re serious? You mean you’re really going to stop? Now?”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Get out.”
“Wren, please, you’ve got to understand.”
“Get ... out,” she said.
“I...”
“Get. Out.”
I stood and walked to the door. I turned to say something else, but she threw a pillow at me.
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