Hot & Bitter Pt. 01

Glimmers of sparkling frost danced across the surface of the slate stone walkway beneath her feet. She had traversed this path a thousand times before. Her memories of the walk to the crimson door of the cottage matched, step for step, all the justifications she had for returning here. The pandemic made new liaisons dangerous. She didn't have time to meet new people. Her job had isolated her over the last eighteen months.

The door opened as she placed her foot on the lowest step of the stoop. There he was. Jason. 6'2", blond hair, blue eyes. He dressed as he always did, as if headed to, or just back from, a hike.

"Back again, Brianna? Sometimes it feels like you never left."

Brianna felt a perverse sense of gratitude for Jason's snide remark. Walking through the chilly December air toward the cottage they purchased together at the beginning of their marriage, seeing him standing there looking just the same, the warm antidote to the winter's cold, almost made her forget why she left him to begin with.

"Your inability to appreciate the difference between fucking me and being married to me was central to our failure as a couple, yes," she replied, her voice calm and her caramel eyes guarded.

He smirked at her, unperturbed. For a moment, she thought she might cry. No, there was nothing warm about Jason; there never had been. He met her at the door, but emotionally, there was nobody home. She strode up the stairs and shoved him lightly backwards so she could enter the house.

The interior hadn't changed. When she left, she didn't want the furniture or the decor. She selected each piece not for her, but for them, for this life they built together. Taking it with her was impossible. What the stasis said about Jason, she would never know. Did it mean nothing to him, so why change it? Did he feel her presence lingering at all?

He stepped up behind her, sliding her coat off her shoulders and hanging it on the hook by the door. His hand smoothed her long chocolate brown locks that fell in waves to her waist.

"You left your hair down for me," he murmured, sidling up to hug her close to him from behind.

"You always pull it down anyway," she said shortly. Her anticipation and already rising regret made for a heady mix. His hands skimmed her hips in lazy circles. He was bad for her. Being with him felt like the first draw of a cigarette after days without one. A relief, a high, a cancer setting into her chest.

He pressed a kiss on her cheek, then slid over to her ear, sucking then biting her earlobe. She couldn't suppress a sigh. She could feel his lips curve against her neck as she responded to him. His hands slid up her ribs to her breasts, tugging and kneading through her v-neck sweater dress.

His mouth went to work, sucking on her neck. Her knees wobbled.

"No marks," she breathed.

He grumbled, sucking harder, setting his teeth in. He rubbed his hardening cock against her pert ass.

"No marks!" she exclaimed, wrenching her head to the side.

He tightened his left arm around her waist and grabbed her hair with his right hand, pulling her head to the side to expose the other side of her neck. He scraped his teeth lightly across the skin before traversing the same path with his tongue.

"What's the matter? Don't want the other guys you're fucking to see it?" he asked.

She had fucked no one else in the nine months since the divorce. He didn't need to know that.

"I have a meeting three blocks from here in an hour, asshole," she replied, grinding herself against his hard-on. "I told you it would need to be a quickie."

He sighed in annoyance. "Cancel it. It's Saturday, for fuck's sake. Spend the day in bed with me."

"Can't. So fuck me already."

He turned her around and kissed her. He sucked her lower lip before dipping his tongue into her mouth.

"Come to bed," he demanded.

"No," she said. To her dismay, her refusal sounded more like a plea than a firm denial. She hadn't fucked him in their bed since the divorce. She had to have some boundaries.

His eyes gleamed with intense emotion, his jaw clenching. He backed her up against the wall.

"Maybe you just like getting fucked against the wall like a whore." He yanked her dress up over her waist, exposing her thigh-highs and bare pussy.

"Promises, promises," she gasped in response. His fingers slid along her wet slit.

"Spread your legs," he said, lips a breath away from hers. She pulled her right leg to the side so he could shove first one, then two fingers into her cunt.

She let out a low moan, head tilting back against the wall. He thumbed her clit. Her hips jerked in response.

"So wet for me," he said, his mouth closing over hers. The calluses on his nimble fingers, earned through years of consistent guitar playing, created a perfect friction as he stroked her g-spot.

The wet sounds of him fingering her pussy layered with heavy breathing filled the small entryway. A cold draft leaked around the seal of the front door, making Brianna's skin pebble. He was right; it felt cheap to be taken like this. That's the way she wanted it.

She pushed him back and dropped to her knees, reaching for his belt. He pushed her hands away.

"You know what I want," he rasped. She glared at him. He waited.

Rolling her eyes, she pulled her dress over her head and cast it aside. Still kneeling, she spread her legs and leaned her ass back against her ankle boot clad feet. She clasped her hands behind her back. The pose pushed her generous breasts out almost obscenely in her lacy black bra.

Jason's chest rose and fell. His hands fumbled to undo his belt, then his fly.

"Finish it," he demanded. Her eyes focused on his face, she slowly opened her puffy lips, to expose her tongue, tucked lewdly against her lower teeth, a pink hole ready to service his rod. She loved the way his blue eyes flashed, his lips parting. He let out a slow groan, jerking his dick. A drop of pre-cum gleamed on the head.

He stepped into her then, sliding his cock into her waiting mouth. She swirled her tongue along the tip, then around the base of the head, suctioning her mouth tightly. He sank his fingers into her rich brown hair and flexed his hips, pushing further into her mouth. She hummed as his head neared the back of her mouth, sending vibrations along his length.

When they were together like this, he always made her keep her hands locked behind her back. He liked to fuck her face for a while, and having her hands tugging and teasing his balls was too much. He thrust in and out of her mouth at a leisurely pace. Saliva pooled, then overflowed from her mouth. Her world contracted to sucking and releasing, snatching breaths between his dick's invasion. She lost herself in the oral fixation.

Some time later, she felt his thrusts quicken, then lose rhythm. Reluctantly, he pulled out of her mouth. He was panting.

"The couch. Bend over the arm."

She grasped his arm as she got to her feet. Her knees ached, and she was glad to be off them. They walked out of the entryway, into the living room. A red couch with generous padded arms dominated the space. She bent over the arm of the couch, legs spread. He ran his fingers along the inside of her upper thighs.

"You do like having my cock in your mouth," he said, the evidence coating the tips of his fingers.

"Fuck me," she rasped, her throat roughened from the face fucking.

He rubbed the head of his cock up, and down her slit, grinding it against her clit. She shoved her ass against him.

"Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me."

Drawing back, he lined his cock's head up with her entrance and slid into her hot, soaking wet pussy with one quick stroke. She cried out, keening at the sensation of fullness. He remained still, filling her and rubbing her back with his warm hands.

He pulled his cock out halfway.

"Fuck back on my dick if you want it so much."

She glared at him over her shoulder. He smacked her ass.

"Hey!" she said.

"Go on, fuck yourself on my cock. Isn't that why you're here?"

"Fuck you."

"You're welcome to whenever you're ready."

She turned back around, then pushed herself back on him. She would get herself off, then get the fuck out of here.

Behind her, Jason bit his lip, relishing the sight of her sliding up and down his cock, moaning with need. He waited six strokes. He wanted her to acknowledge to herself how badly she needed his dick inside her. Then he took over, grabbing her by the hips and thrusting into her.

He fucked her rough and fast, pulling cries from her. One of his hands went to her hair. He loved to make her back arch while he railed her from behind. Her warm, slick pussy massaged his dick relentlessly. Her ass bounced in tandem with his hips' thrusts.

Brianna savored the exquisite friction of his dick sliding in and out of her. Her sensitive breasts recoiled to the tempo of his thrusts, singing harmony with her clit as it rubbed against the arm of the couch. Her already loud cries built to a crescendo. An orgasm tore through her.

Jason growled behind her as her pussy pulsed around his rod. He let go, pumping her cunt full of his cum. He plunged into her for seven strokes, his pleasure prolonged as he imagined covering every bit of her vagina with his cream.

They were quiet for long moments, still joined and trying to catch their breath. He pulled himself from her and she let out a soft groan. She pushed herself up to a standing position, absently tidying her hair with her hands.

"Shit," she muttered. "Is that clock right?"

He glanced toward the wall. "Yeah."

"Shit, shit, shit." Brianna strode over to the entryway and grabbed her dress, pulling it over her head. "Can I leave my car parked out front? Finding parking at Hemlock & Honey is a nightmare on the weekends."

"Uh, I guess," he muttered. She glanced at him as she yanked on her coat. Was he sulking?

"Okay, thanks. Bye," she said, and dashed out the door. If she walked fast, she could probably make it on time. She ducked into her car to reapply her lipstick and grab her briefcase, then headed in the coffee shop's direction.

From the front window of the house, Jason watched her retreating back, feeling as empty as he ever had.

**************

Dr. Aydin Demir winced delicately as he sipped his "coffee". After twenty-five years in the U.S., he accepted that proper coffee (Turkish coffee / Türk kahvesi, of course) could only be made at home, but it did not prevent him from foolishly ordering from the myriad of disappointing American concoctions at every opportunity. The only explanation, he mused, was some otherwise unexpressed tendency toward masochism. Well, perhaps not completely unexpressed. He had chosen psychiatry as his medical specialty, after all.

Looking up, he smiled wanly at Harper, Hemlock & Honey's chief barista. Harper, a tiny woman with close cropped hair and an unusual fondness for puffed sleeves and black lipstick, was one of the establishment's six owners. He lived in fear of angering her, as she kept him supplied with finely ground coffee, with just the right amount of cardamom, for his home brewing. She was also determined to find him a menu item he would like.

"You're smiling now, but you winced before," she observed with bird-like intensity. "Do you really mean to tell me you don't like a dirty chai?"

He gaped at her. "This has TEA in it?! And please tell me you don't actually mean dirt?"

Behind him, a chime-like laugh swirled, tangling mid-air with Harper's chortling at his expense.

"I think," a matching musical voice said, "that a dirty chai is steamed milk with chai syrup and a shot of espresso."

Aydin might have whipped around in his earlier years, but at fifty-two he had learned to savor anticipation. The speaker would show herself in her own time. This moment of delay was a gift; he could imagine that this voice, this voice was a woman come to life and surely that dream was nothing short of miraculous.

"Well?" she asked Harper as she strolled into view. "Was I right? Or do you have a secret ingredient I missed?"

Harper grinned at her with easy familiarity. "Got it in one! Good to see you, Brianna. Do you want your usual?"

"Yes, please," Brianna said, running a hand through her mussed hair.

When she stepped into view, she didn't disappoint Aydin. In a soft sweater dress, sheer black hose, and walking-friendly ankle boots topped with an oversize wool coat, she stylishly straddled the business-casual line. Long, wavy hair complemented her gold eyes and freckled cheeks. She looked harried, confident, and around the corners of her eyes, sad. Her eyes panned the room. She was looking for him.

"Are you Brianna Acheson, by chance?" he asked.

Like a light-switch flipping on, a vacant, customer-service smile popped onto her face. "Yes, I am! You must be Dr. Demir?"

He stood, extending his hand towards her. "Please, call me Aydin. Thanks for making time to meet with me over the weekend."

He wasn't what Brianna expected. His predecessor, Gil Williams, was a paunchy, red-faced gentleman in his early 70s with a fussy temperament and difficulty hearing. Dr. Demir - Aydin - was a wide-shouldered, trim man with a salt-and-pepper beard, close cropped hair, golden skin, and beautiful dark eyes. He wore a turtleneck under a well-cut blazer with jeans and oxfords.

Brianna felt abruptly self-conscious. She'd spent the walk there berating herself for fucking Jason again. She felt sad, stretched-thin, and her ex's cum was dripping down her legs. It was not her best moment.

The moment her hand met Aydin's, an electric spark zapped her. Her instant attraction to him - the first she'd felt since leaving Jason - was unwelcome. She was an emotional wreck, and this was a business meeting. She mentally shook herself and put on her game face. All she had to do was get through the next forty-five minutes, and then she could climb into a bubble bath and bawl her eyes out.

Dr. Demir courteously stepped over to pull out her chair and help her out of her coat. She bit her lip as the action reminded her of Jason doing the same thing just an hour prior.

"So, Aydin, how are you settling into the new role?" she asked, breaking the silence.

"It is a process," he said. "I was honored to be selected as head of the psychiatry department of such a prestigious medical school, but I confess there are certain ancillary roles that came with the job for which I feel somewhat unprepared."

"Like overseeing the LMS migration for the entire medical school?" she asked sympathetically.

"Yes," he confessed. "That is perhaps chief among them." Taking another sip of his coffee, he winced again. Harper breezed by as he did, plopping Brianna's order onto the table without a word, before heading off to welcome a new customer.

"What is it?" he asked, nodding his head toward her cup.

"This? It's a vanilla macchiato with a sprinkle of freshly ground clove."

He stared at her cup intently. "Is it any good?"

A laugh bubbled out of Brianna. "Well I think so, but it is an idiosyncratic order, as these things go."

He nodded solemnly.

"So," Brianna said, pivoting the conversation back to business, "Did Dr. Williams give you the final deployment report?"

"In a manner of speaking," he said.

Brianna gritted her teeth. His calm, ponderous manner frazzled her already strained nerves. She reined in her nervousness and waited for him to elaborate.

"He gave me the password to his email inbox and said 'it's all in there.'"

Brianna stared in shock. "Oh."

Aydin chuckled ruefully. "Yep."

"Okay, let's start here. Are you aware that the migration is complete?"

"I assumed so, looking at the LMS," he replied.

Brianna bobbed her head, eyes wide.

"Would it be helpful for me to outline my role and give a project overview?" Brianna tried to keep her voice from pitching up. This was not the meeting she expected.

"That would be great," Aydin replied. Brianna took a deep draw off her macchiato and dove in.

"I'm a Learning Management System consultant. I specialize in helping educators from universities, school systems, and nonprofits to implement or to upgrade their LMS..."

Aydin gazed at her. The cool winter light fell across her face and highlighted the pleasing curve of her lips. As she fell into the rhythm of her overview, she became more animated, hands weaving through the air.

"...in this case, our methodology used five project phases and six work streams. The project phases were to initiate, plan, develop, and deploy. The work streams were system policies, system admin, course migration, stakeholder communication..."

She shifted, tossing her hair over her right shoulder. Her neck was... bruised? A hickey. He would have bet money that she didn't know it was there. Wasn't that interesting? He raised his cup to his mouth and pulled his eyes back to her face.

"... All of this is to say: the project is complete, and you really shouldn't need me anymore, although I'm happy to speak with you for the hourly rate specified in the contract, or to take on a new project under a separate contract. I should also clarify that the project is complete for you as well, and the university's IT, with some administrative coordination, should really be able to take things from here."

Aydin perked up. "Did you just say that this isn't my problem anymore?"

Brianna chuckled. "That's the idea. Dr. Williams felt he'd been dragooned into doing it, since the psych department had the most content to migrate over. The project became more complicated when the pandemic expanded the objectives the medical school had for the new LMS, but we selected a robust system, so it had the capabilities to meet those additional needs."

"Is there some sort of- I don't know- package that can give me the full details of the finished project? In case I need to look back?" Aydin asked.

"Of course. I sent Dr. Williams a comprehensive project closure report that has an overview of the original project requirements, timeline, and budget, performance reviews, a folder of all project files and communications for your archive, lessons learned, final deliverables breakdown, and a final transfer of remaining project resources. I'm happy to resend it to you."

"I would really appreciate that." Aydin rubbed his forehead. "I can't tell you what a relief it is to hear that this doesn't have to go onto my already overfilled plate. Between the classes I teach, departmental management, and my clinical hours, there are never enough hours in the day."

"I'm glad to be the bearer of good news," Brianna replied, smiling.

For a moment, their eyes held. Aydin knew she meant it. Brianna knew it meant something to him. Brianna licked her lips nervously, and Aydin's eyes dropped to them.

"We should exchange cell numbers," Brianna said in a rush. "In case you need to get in touch."

A slow smile transformed Aydin's face; his eyes twinkled. "Yes, of course." They entered each other's numbers into their phones. "Perhaps you would be interested in joining me for a proper cup of coffee at my home sometime."

"A 'proper cup of coffee'?" Brianna queried.

"Turkish coffee," he replied with a sly grin.

"Ah! I see! I would like that. I've always wanted to try it." They stood up from their seats, pulling on their coats.

"Would you do me a favor, Brianna?" Aydin asked, savoring the way her name felt on his lips.

Her eyebrows rose. "Sure?"

"Would you take my scarf with you?" he asked, extending a solid blue strip of cashmere toward her. "To, uh, keep you warm on your way home?" He tapped his neck in the place where she had a hickey and then gestured toward her neck.

Brows still furrowed with confusion, she brought her hand up to her neck hesitantly, then froze when she felt the hickey. Giving a little gasp, she blushed bright pink.