Chances Ch. 01

Author's Note: This story is completely fictional and did not happen. All names of characters are fictional and were made up. Please do not copy and plagiarize my work.

This series is dedicated to my good friend Jack.

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Paris, France

July 2012

Sunlight illuminated the white table, giving a small reflection across the gloss finish. Scratches had dulled the top after years of heavy use. The marble texture was still visible underneath when the table was not cluttered with drinks. The bubbling of a coffee machine from across the table could be heard in the room. Footsteps could be heard louder than the bubbling sounds as a man entered the room and attended to the coffee pot. A visible five-o'clock shadow covered his face after neglecting to shave yesterday. A jacket that belonged with his suit was left in the office, tucked over his desk chair. The man stood in black slacks and a buttoned up white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Time was not on Jordan White's side. The end of the work week had come in the early morning hours of Friday, leaving him stuck with a brutal deadline coming up. He poured his freshly brewed coffee into a plastic cup as someone else stepped into the room.

"Good morning."

A heavy French accent greeted Jordan before he turned to see a friend at work. Samuel was properly dressed with a clean-shaven face. His brown hair was neatly trimmed, matching his eye color. No rings were visible under his eyes, giving the impression he was in a healthy state of mind. He was not under the same level of pressure that Jordan currently felt on a day like this.

"Rough night, Jordan?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"I hope you saved me enough for a glass."

Jordan rolled his eyes at that comment. Sam had made it a point to socialize with him every morning for the past three days due to a current mutual interest they had. It was only a matter of time before he began to ask him about the interview. That was the only subject driving any of their conversations throughout the week. As the two men stood there and sipped from their cups, Jordan began to relax when Sam spoke.

"I'm glad it's Friday. Are you gonna be at the bar after getting paid?"

"Probably not. I need to stay up tonight and get my interview printed out to send upstairs."

"Oh, that's right. You haven't finished that yet. Someone upstairs isn't happy with you right now."

"You don't have to remind me."

Sam glared at his friend before the conversation could shift to that one topic Jordan wanted to avoid. He knew that he was in deep trouble for slacking on his work. If the interview was not done by tonight, he would likely be without a job to start the next month.

"What's that term you Americans like to use? Up shit creek without a paddle?"

As Sam laughed, Jordan rolled his eyes.

"You've made your point, man. You don't have to remind me how lucky I am to be interviewing a supermodel."

"No, but I will remind you that you're lucky that I know her. If not for me, you really would be up shit creek about now."

Jordan turned around before walking out the door of the breakroom. He figured Sam would be following behind him to carry on their banter. After walking a few steps alone through the office cubicle, he realized that Sam was not behind him. White walls divided the small offices in a pattern that made up the entire floor for the English printing of Numéro magazine. Landing a job away from home in a European country was something of a dream come true for Jordan. His first year of college was spent in New York before he ventured to London to take up an internship in London at another university. His first job was two years in the rearview mirror. Opportunities were there to be had in London with the glamour industry. To leave that behind, Jordan hoped he would not regret it.

Money was the sole motivation that led him to France. The pay for English editors and writers at Numéro magazine was higher than any other fashion related media. With his credentials in education and a previous job, Jordan found himself with a small office in no time. August would mark six months since his first paycheck. Work had proved to be overwhelming at times, only due to the distractions that came from life. At twenty-four years of age, he was beginning to miss the old life he had in university. There was much more time to go out, party, and chase women. It had been almost three years since the last time Jordan last shared a commitment with a woman. A long-term relationship was not a goal he had in mind. What he truly missed was getting laid. Jordan had been lucky to indulge himself with the services of a call girl back in January.

But it left a bad taste in his mouth to be paying for sex. Jordan did not see a level of pride in it. The experience was not like when he chased a girl all over campus, trying his luck weekend after weekend to get lucky. During his brief time in the British glamour industry, he saw many beautiful women who caught his eye. The ultimate dream, going back to his youth, was to bed a model. That was a fantasy he had kept to himself throughout the years. Jordan knew he probably would have had better luck achieving that goal had he stayed in London. His luck had changed, thanks to Sam introducing him to supermodel Bar Refaeli earlier in the week. Jordan remembered her photoshoots printed in the special swimsuit edition of Sports Illustrated. A copy of it sat under the bed of his college dorm back in the day.

His job at hand was to interview the sexiest woman in the world, according to Maxim magazine. Sam told Jordan that Bar was a friend of his. How they met and knew one another was left a mystery. She completed a photo session for Numéro last week. The only thing holding up the editorial side was an interview to accompany the photo shoot. Sam would have finished it days ago, as Jordan had been reminded more than once by now. Distractions were the one thing that had stalled his work after his first meeting with Miss Refaeli. Her agent arranged a date for them at a diner not far from the office. That day was spent getting to know her before the scheduled interview. Her big blue eyes gazed back at his face, like windows to the soul. It was something about that date that brought a level of excitement to Jordan that he did not anticipate.

The date went like any other time. Bar spent much of her time getting to know the man who would be interviewing her rather than talking about business. Jordan had heard tales of staged interviews at Numéro. It was standard practice for a model with a capable PR team to pull out all the stops needed to control the questions and narrative of the interview. What questions he had to ask her were lost that day. She passed her phone number on a napkin for him to call at any time. That made things easier than calling her agent to arrange something. When Jordan sat down in the squeaky, black leather chair at his desk, he let out a sigh. The napkin with her phone number was tucked beneath a red spiral notebook on the left side of his desk. The number was added to the contact list on his smartphone, but Jordan felt the need to call from the office instead. Once he retrieved the napkin, Jordan grabbed his desk phone and began pressing the buttons to dial her number. A few seconds of ringing passed before she answered.

"Hello? Who's this?"

"Hi Miss. Refaeli, it's Jordan calling at Numéro magazine."

"Oh, it's you."

A chuckle was heard through the phone after her answer. Jordan smiled to himself before replying.

"Yeah, what do you know? It's just me calling you."

"I doubt you're calling simply to chat."

"No, I don't have time for that. I was calling to ask about our interview. I've got to get that done with you today or I'm in big trouble."

"So the interview is due for today?"

"Yeah."

She giggled into the phone.

"You have some sense of urgency. Someone must be breathing down your neck."

Jordan rolled his eyes at her comment.

"Yeah, I guess so. Can we meet up and get this done?"

"You should've called me yesterday. I would've made it by now."

"Are you at least free right now?"

"How about you come up to my flat and we do this? I can text you the address. Come see me within an hour?"

"That sounds fine."

The phone clicked after she hung up. Jordan sighed as he hung up the phone. He was thankful that she said yes to the interview despite the situation being so sudden. A few seconds later, he felt his phone vibrating within his pocket with the alert sound of a text message. Maybe this day could be saved by her. At least Jordan had some level of hope after their brief conversation. The interview was only at the center of his mind now due to work. There were much better reasons for him to want another face-to-face meeting with Bar. It was days like this that he had to remember his old fantasy. Did he really have a legit shot at bedding a famous model? The meeting was set at her place, so Jordan felt he could dream on with that fantasy. With a distracted mind, he grabbed his notebook and pen. Within the drawer of his desk was a cassette recording device, but he did not think to bring it along. The notebook was all he needed to go along with high confidence.

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2 HOURS LATER

From the office and into the streets, Jordan hailed a taxi to go across town on the west side for a destination. Bar had given an address on the west side of town in a place he rarely frequented. Before leaving the office, he washed his face in the bathroom, now regretting the choice to not shave before he went to work. Jordan gathered his jacket to tuck his notebook inside one of the pockets upon leaving. Outside, the afternoon heat was pouring on. Summer time back home in the US always felt miserable compared to the experiences he had so far in London and now France. Maybe the humidity was different, or it was the change of scenery that made those days easier to get by. Dark green paint had faded on the buildings that made up the apartments where Bar awaited him. Jordan wasted no time calling her on his cellphone to let her know he had arrived before he stepped into the front door.

Inside the building, the sunlight was muted thanks to every window covered in black curtains and mini-blinds. A quick trip up a spiraling staircase took him to the higher floor, where Bar's room awaited him. Behind the door of her flat, she greeted Jordan with a subtle smile across her pink lips. Her big blue eyes gazed back at him as she stood in a silky black robe. Her long blonde hair was curled in a ponytail. Hints of a lingerie outfit were hidden in the robe, with a visible blue line that extended beyond her right shoulder. Jordan could not help but ask why she was not dressed. Bar told him that she had just taken a shower and had been modeling what she described as a 'sexy outfit'. She claimed the lingerie was a gift from a secret admirer. He made sure to tell her that it was not him who had purchased such a fine present for her. Bar only used that admission to tease him further. Jordan felt as if she were testing him by flirting, just to see if it made him uncomfortable or not.

"Do you want a drink before we get started? I have a new bottle of wine waiting to be shared with someone."

"Sure, I can't turn down wine from a woman like you."

Her eyes nearly mesmerized him. Jordan found it difficult to glance away any time they made eye contact. Within an hour's time, he had taken off his shoes and jacket to get comfortable in her apartment. The living room was made up of dark wooden furniture to match the black wallpaper and crimson red rugs covering the tiled floor. Much of their time was spent on a large black sofa, sitting together as Jordan opened his notebook and began to scribble a few notes.

"Are you going to write down all my answers? If that were the case, we should be recording instead."

She was right, of course, but what did Jordan care? He had forgotten his tape recorder, not even thinking about it ahead of time. In a panic, he wrote down a few basic questions for what would make a soft-ball interview with no true substance to the answers. Bar answered his standard questions, detailing where she was from and how long she had been modeling. She noticed right away that he was not writing down her answers. As they sipped on their goblets of wine, she teased him about that.

"You're not writing any of this down, I see."

"Don't worry about that. I've got a photographic memory. I'll remember everything you said."

"Oh, really?"

Bar rested her chin in the palm of her right hand as she leaned against the couch. She knew his eyes would wander beneath her face at the hint of skin visible beyond her loosened black robes. Jordan smirked at the hint of her boobs tucked in a silky top with lining patterns. After a few moments of awkward staring, he gazed back at her face and nodded.

"Yeah, really. I'm pretty good at remembering things."

"I'll have to take your word on it, Jordan. Do you play cards by chance?"

"No, why?"

She got up from the couch, giggling at him as she stepped closer and grabbed the notebook and pen from the cushion seats. When their eyes met again, Bar replied.

"If you're someone who can remember things, I figured you might be into counting cards when playing blackjack."

"I've never been a gambler, Bar."

"That's too bad. We could have a lot of fun if you did."

Giggling at him again, she tossed the notebook and pen onto the wooden coffee table behind her. The pen made a clacking sound across the surface before rolling off onto the floor. Jordan watched the pen fall but did not bother telling her. The sound was muted thanks to the rug beneath the table. Sunlight glared into the two empty goblets that sat next to the dark-tinted wine bottle. Bar planted her hands on her hips as she stood in front of him and spoke again.

"How about I make this interview more interesting?"

"How are you going to do that?"

"I'll ask you some questions instead."

Jordan began to laugh. He sat up on the couch and nodded to her, quietly gesturing that he was ready.

"Where were you born, Jordan?"

"New York."

She stopped for a moment and glanced away from him. Bar moved her hands off her hips and decided to cross her arms over her chest.

"So are you a New Yorker by heart or did you grow up elsewhere?"

"I'd like to call myself a New Yorker even though my family moved to Delaware when I was growing up. I don't know how to describe it. Guess you can say I'm just proud to come from there."

Bar giggled before she continued with the questions.

"What do you have for a hobby? And don't tell me your job."

With a playful smirk, he teased her.

"Does making money count?"

She shook her head.

"Nope! That relates to work. Give me a real answer, please."

"Alright then, how about photography? I like to look at pictures. Any kind, actually. But my favorite is modelling in magazines. I almost had a job at Nuts in Britain, that's a glamour magazine if you didn't know."

"I've never heard of that. Quite a raunchy name for a magazine."

"You think so? The Brits have quite a sense of humor."

Bar let out a sigh and tried not to laugh. She paused for a minute before speaking again.

"Okay, let's start over. Instead of asking you generic questions like that, I've got a better idea. Since you like photography, would you mind if I asked you something a bit more personal?"

He shook his head to answer her.

"No, you can ask me anything you would like."

"Anything?"

"Yes, ask away."

"Did you own a copy of the Sports Illustrated with me on the cover?"

Smiling widely, Jordan nodded.

"Yes, I did."

Bar unfolded her arms away from her chest. A proud smile ran across her pink lips.

"Is that all you're gonna ask me in regards to personal stuff?"

Jordan teased her with a grin. He watched the supermodel slowly shake her head before replying.

"No, I hope you're ready for the next question. It's a lot more personal than that."

"Go on."

"Since you had a copy of that magazine, did you ever indulge yourself with it?"

"Indulge myself? What do you mean by that?"

"In other words, did you jack off to pictures of me?"

There was the hard question she hinted at, spoken in a low and seductive voice. Jordan walked right into it without second thought, knowing that she would press him for such delicate details next. Jordan glanced away from her face as he felt a wave of heat rush over him. There was no doubt he was blushing, as he felt as if he were about to break out into a sweat.

"Uhhhh, yes. I might as well tell you, yes, I did jack myself off to those pictures. Several times, as a matter of fact. It was the first time I'd ever seen you. I didn't know who you were until I saw you on the cover of that magazine."

"I like that you're honest. I can tell you're not lying."

Her eyes shifted below. Jordan had not noticed the hard erection poking forward in the front of his pants. When he returned eye contact with Bar, the grin was still on her face. She flashed the front row of her teeth before pulling the robe off and revealing her skimpy-clad body. Her top was dark blue, while the thong piece of her outfit was in a lighter blue color, complete with patterns of flowers covering the front. Bar took a step forward while sliding her hands down to the folds of her thong. She curled her fingers, gripping them and teasing him.

"I'm not going to waste your time today, Jordan. I don't care about an interview that you can fill in the blanks for. I don't think you really care about this interview either. I can tell from the look in your eye that you're thinking about something else."

Just like that, she saw right through him. There was little sense of urgency to get the interview done and complete his work related tasks. Lustful desire outweighed everything else on his mind. Bar knew what she was doing as she played with his instincts. Did she have this planned out ahead of time? That question did not need answering since Jordan at least knew she wanted him as badly as he wanted her at this very moment.

"God, you're so fucking hot."

His words were enough to tell her that he was done caring about his job for the day. Jordan swallowed his breath as he leaned up and slid his hands down to the front of his pants. Bar leaned forward and grabbed his right hand.

"No! You're going to let me take those off!"

"You want to take my pants off, Bar?"

She nodded while gazing into his eyes. Jordan did not hesitate to cup her gorgeous face with his palms and lean in to kiss her. Bar closed her eyes and slipped her tongue between his lips. As they began to trade kisses, Bar straddled him and climbed into his lap. Jordan felt her buttocks nestling down into his lap. His erect cock poked between her thighs as she pressed her warm hands onto his shirt-covered chest. The kissing continued until Bar pulled their lips apart. Jordan exhaled a deep breath. To have a supermodel sitting on his lap like this gave him a feeling he had never had in his life before. So much time had passed since the last time he shared his lust with a woman. Bar grinned at him as she reached her hands behind her back and undid her bra. No words were spoken between them as she pulled the top off and revealed her busty tits before his eyes.

Jordan's eyes locked on her boobs, studying the texture of her skin and erect nipples. His hands pressed against her stomach, giving him enough room to trail up to her breasts and squeeze them. Bar moaned at his touch. She exhaled and gritted her teeth while locking her angelic blue eyes on his face. Jordan was too distracted by the sight of her plump, natural breasts to look at her face. He licked his lips as he began to massage her tits, squeezing them softly. Her hardened nipples rubbed into the palms of his hands. Bar rolled her hips and began to grind down into his lap. That was enough to distract him from her tits. Jordan moved his hands to her hips, caressing her curves as he encouraged her to continue grinding on his cock. When Jordan finally gazed back up at her face, her expression told him all he needed to know.