The Factory Pt. 04 - Aaron

Warning: this one's a bit self-indulgent. It took me ages to write, as I couldn't stop rubbing--a difficult task while typing. However, I also couldn't resist turning this into a love story. It's not quite over yet - an epilogue awaits!

After having reluctantly accepted to go on a blind date, more than anything to get his sister off his back, Aaron sits at the table of the small Italian restaurant, picking at his pasta, lost in the depths of his own thoughts, barely noticing the beautiful girl sitting across from him. She's smart--even funny, and most would ask, "What more could one possibly want?"

For Aaron, the answer is simple: Rose.

From the moment he first laid eyes on her, he knew she was going to be his downfall. She was sweet and vulnerable. And, god, does he have a soft spot for shy girls. That's why they always put them with him at The Factory. He's the best at working with them. He's patient and compassionate. He loves to gradually break down their walls until they give in to their hidden desires.

Still, Rose was extraordinarily timid. He hasn't even scratched the surface with her yet, and who knows if he'll ever see her again. It's been two and a half months, and she hasn't come back to The Factory. He'd slipped another gift card into her bag, hoping to entice her return, but there's been no sign of her.

His perfectly nice date continues to natter on about something or other, but his head is elsewhere. Memories of Rose flood his thoughts. He's remembering what it was like to hold her in his arms while he devoured her pretty pussy. How he nearly came in his pants when she finally let go and fucked his mouth with abandon. The amount of time he spends fantasising about her and all the things he'd like to do to her is practically unhealthy at this point.

The other day, while he was drilling a dildo into one of his usual clients, he thought about how, if it were Rose at his mercy, he would fuck it in slowly. How he would gently suckle on her clit with barely-there pressure--just as she likes. Or maybe he'd ask her to fuck his mouth again, only this time with her asshole. Ugh, the thought of her holding his head while rimming herself on his tongue makes his dick twinge.

Fuck, he's desperate.

His date extends an invitation to her apartment for 'dessert' later that evening. Aaron kindly declines.

"Dude!" Aaron's younger, and rather boisterous, colleague, Ben, startles him, interrupting his daydream, "Are you in or not?"

They've been invited to a company party at an uptown club. It's an annual thing, and Aaron usually enjoys it, if he's honest. He has a few drinks while listening to the others swap stories about their clients and try to outdo each other by telling how many times they've cum that day. More often than not, Aaron doesn't cum during his sessions. It's not about him unless his partners want it to be.

With a sigh, he agrees, "Yeah, I'm in."

Ben gives him a side-eyed look. "What's gotten into you lately?"

Of course, Aaron can't tell him that he's fallen for a client. "Just a bit tired." He replies.

Ben's hand lands on his shoulder with an exaggerated force. "Well, snap out of it and go get your dick sucked." He turns to walk away before shouting over his shoulder, "You'll feel better after shooting your load."

Aaron chuckles and rolls his eyes.

The club is one of those up-market places. Posh and pristine, bathrooms riddled with cocaine, and dark corners where humping and grinding is to be expected. A place Aaron would never normally choose to spend his time. However, this is the place where his company has reserved a booth: on the balcony, overlooking the dance floor. Even with all the posh amenities, Aaron intends to sit at the bar. He's not one for being the centre of attention, and tonight that booth will certainly be the focal point of the place.

"Hi," a girl says, pulling out the seat next to him.

He smiles kindly and nods his head in her direction, but doesn't engage by responding verbally. He despises being impolite, but whenever his company hosts a party and word gets around, flirtatious girls swarm in search of a one-night stand with an infamous "Factory-Worker."

She'll probably get what she wants from one of the others anyway. Insatiable bastards.

It's not that Aaron doesn't like sex. He does. He's just so used to it as his job that he doesn't know how to be spontaneous anymore. It's been so long since he's even had real sex. He cums at least once a day from some other form of stimulation. Also, it's a rule of his. No penetrative sex with clients, and absolutely no kissing on the mouth--a little detail he borrowed from Pretty Woman.

That being said, would he break his own rules for Rose? Would she be the Richard Gere to his Julia Roberts? The last time she stood so close before him, he could feel her breath on his lips, her big brown eyes deep like he'd never seen, and her eyelids heavy. It took every single fibre of his being to resist wrapping his arms around her, caging her beautiful body in his own, and gently pressing his lips to hers.

He won't allow himself to actually imagine what it would be like to have sex with her. He must, at least, try to be professional. Picture her as any other girl whom he's pleasured over the years.

Does she even remotely feel the same? She could be married and have a family, for all he knows. More than anything, Aaron tries to convince himself that she did not return his desire when she looked back at him.

She did, though. Deep down, he knows it.

His beer bottle drips with condensation as he scans the ocean of people dancing and having alcohol-induced fun. Aaron likes to observe people. It's always been something he finds fascinating. That's probably why he's good at his job. He knows how to read people.

Thankfully, the girl sitting next to him has found someone else to try her luck with; she is currently laughing at everything her suitor of choice says while flicking her hair.

"Aaron," one of his colleagues calls to him and beckons him to join the rest of them at the company-reserved booth, where bottles of champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries litter the luxurious glass table.

Sliding off his stool, he walks towards them with the most authentic smile he can manage. Ben has one of those sparklers that they bring with the booze, and he's holding it between his legs and pretending it's his dick as it shoots out a fountain of flares and sparks. Aaron can't help but chuckle and shake his head in amusement at his silly yet somehow endearing co-worker.

"Here he is!!" The manager greets Aaron with a one-arm hug and a glass of champagne.

Aaron tips his head in thanks. He takes a sip of the bubbly drink, discreetly places it back on the table, and goes back to his beer, eager to wash away the sharp taste.

"Aaron!" his manager shouts, even though they're standing less than a metre apart. "One of our number-one guys!"

Aaron squints as the stench of alcohol fills his nostrils.

"How do you do it??" The man continues, boldly and far too loud, shaking him in his embrace, "I daren't send my wife to you, or she'll never suck me off again." He bursts into a roar of laughter and glances around the booth to see if anyone else thinks he's funny.

Aaron half frowns and half smiles, knowing that the man probably won't remember any of this in the morning. Thank goodness.

He grabs Aaron again and starts to tell him some seedy story about an encounter he had with one of the girls at The Factory when he was younger. Aaron stumbles slightly as he's pulled closer, trying his best to turn away from the stench of the man's breath. Then he sees her.

Rose.

She's there. In the middle of the dance floor, she's facing the other direction, but Aaron knows. Her body, her hair, and the way she moves. It's definitely her.

She's with a group of friends, possibly for a bachelorette party or a birthday. Her hips sway in time to the beat while she holds her hands above her head, letting her long hair cascade down her back.

His heart thumps harder in his chest. He's powerless to stop it. He can't look away or even attempt to listen to his boss's crass story.

"Uhm, I'm sorry, sir," he says, wriggling out of the man's grasp. "I...I need some air," he stammers, and it's not exactly a lie either.

Rose continues to dance; her body is the most beautiful Aaron has ever seen. Her curves are womanly and ooze sensuality. He's reminded of how smooth her skin is and how her body is firm but still soft and luscious. How he felt when he ran his hands over her and how she tensed at his touch.

It's a somewhat strange feeling, knowing that he's already been with her. So to speak. It's odd to put the two people together. The shy girl who sought assistance in self-discovery at The Factory and this stunning young woman who is dancing with an air of self-assurance and ease that he knows very little about.

He reaches the edge of the dance floor without even realising he'd made it that far. His body is on autopilot, searching and wanting.

He halts before taking another step. What is he supposed to do? Walk up to her and say, "Hi Rose, remember me?" He can't. He has to respect her privacy and keep their encounters to himself. He'd already risked getting a bollocking at work for giving her two gift cards.

He stands there. Like a fucking creep. He watches her turn to her friend and laugh in response to something one of them said. He realises he's never heard her laugh before, and all of a sudden the need to know what she sounds like is unbearable. What is she drinking? He wonders, noticing a brightly coloured cocktail in her hand. Probably something sweet, he thinks, desperately wishing he could base his guess on something real.

Ultimately, he decides to go back to the bar. He can watch her pathetically from there and imagine what it would be like to walk over and slide his hand around her waist. How wonderful it would be if he could hold her as close as humanly possible and kiss her neck as she dances.

'Boyfriend thoughts,' he scolds himself with a roll of the eyes.

He orders another beer after having disregarded the last one at the company table and goes to lean against the railing of the balcony overlooking the dance floor. He feels uneasy, self-conscious almost, scanning the room in search of only one person. The bass line pumps through his body as he surveys the sea of people. He easily locates the crowd of friends she was with not only ten minutes ago, but he can't seem to see her anymore. He can't possibly have just lost her. His heart begins to beat faster, and sweat beads form in his palms. What if she's gone and he never sees her again? Did he really miss his one and only chance?

Somehow, faith is on his side tonight, and when he turns around to go and look from a different angle, she is standing there facing him, with her back to the bar, looking as frozen as he feels. They simply stare at one another for a moment. Seeming somewhat uncertain as to how the other will react.

Aaron smiles first, tentatively, and when she answers with that bashful grin that he recognises all too well, he pushes away from the railing and closes the gap between them. Suddenly, their bodies press against each other, enveloped in an embrace.

"Hi!" he breathes in her ear, almost a sigh of relief, like having her in his arms is the thing he's been missing his whole life.

She responds with a quiet "Hello," doing that cute little thing where her shoulders rise, and he can just imagine her blushing.

At the bar, he sees an edgy-looking girl with bleached blonde hair, whom he imagines must be a friend of Rose's, looking at them with a confused look on her face. He pretends not to see her and continues to hold Rose tight to his chest. The girl takes a seat and watches them with a smirk while sipping her bright pink cocktail.

"How are you?" he asks, begrudgingly loosening his grip and taking a small step back.

Rose glances up at him, smiling in a way that makes his knees weak. "I'm good," she answers. "You?"

He chuckles. "Yeah, good."

It's ridiculous how awkward he feels. He's literally watched her cum and rubbed his cockhead on her tongue. She's fucked his mouth and screamed his name. Yet here they are, looking like two shy teenagers with a crush.

Aaron shakes his head and giggles.

"What?" she asks, squinting through her grin.

He runs his fingers through his hair. "It's just funny," he chuckles.

Rose blushes a little more and giggles, too. "I suppose it is," she answers.

"Can I get you a drink?" he asks, feeling slightly more confident.

"Oh, uhm, yeah, I was with..." she turns to the bar where her friend was, but the spot is now empty. "A drink sounds great," she sighs.

"What can I get you?" The bartender asks.

Aaron gestures to Rose to order first.

"I'll have a beer, please," she says. Unexpected.

"Make that two." Aaron adds, realising that he's lost his second beer of the night. "Not into fruity cocktails?" he asks curiously.

Rose scrunches up her nose a little. "Not really," she says, "nothing beats a cold beer."

With impeccable timing, the bartender serves their ice-cold drinks.

"Cheers to that," Aaron says, lifting his bottle.

Rose gently clinks them together and smiles at him. It's hard to make a conversation with someone you barely know yet are desperate to talk to.

"So, are you here for a party?" he asks.

"Yeah, my roommate just got a promotion and will be moving to Bahrain, so we're celebrating."

"Wow, that's great!" he answers. "What do you do?" he asks, "if you don't mind me asking."

Rose smiles. "I'm still in art school."

"That's..." Aaron is stunned. "That's amazing!" he says, honestly blown away.

"You weren't expecting that?" She asks, raising an eyebrow.

Aaron closes his eyes and laughs. "I suppose I wasn't," he answers, shaking his head. "I don't know why."

They sit in silence for a few moments, sipping their drinks from the bottle.

"What about you?" Rose asks, dead serious.

Aaron is taken aback. He starts to stutter random words and sounds, not knowing what to say. All of a sudden, Rose bursts out laughing. A real belly laugh. She throws her head forward, making her hair fall over her face. She places her hand on his shoulder to steady herself.

"Sorry," she continues to laugh. "It was just the perfect way to break the ice."

Aaron sighs, feeling grateful for the reprieve from his embarrassment, and takes a mental note of how intoxicating the sound of her laugh is.

Once the metaphorical ice has indeed been gracefully shattered, they start to talk, words flowing like an endless river.

Rose tells him about her studies and how she desperately wants to travel to Italy. Aaron listens carefully. He loves this more confident side of her. She's exceptionally passionate about her life.

Aaron ends up telling her about his family and how his parents immigrated from Nigeria when he was just a baby. He tells her about his humble upbringing and how he is happy to have been able to give back to his parents as an adult.

They talk about anything and everything. Occasionally, someone from his table walks by and gives him a wink. Their obliviousness makes him feel somehow more connected to Rose.

After what feels like hours, Aaron finally says, "Can I ask you something?"

She turns to him and nods.

"Why didn't you come back?" He can't help the vulnerability that laces his voice.

Rose looks down to the floor, and her face drops, almost as if he's caught her out. "I..." she begins. "I don't know what to say." She continues with a shrug of the shoulders, "I wanted to."

Aaron cocks his head to one side, curious to understand.

"It's just... I don't think I'm cut out for something, so..." She gesticulates vaguely with her hands before concluding by saying, "Out there."

Aaron nods. He understands. It's not for everyone.

"Can I ask you something?" She questions back.

"Of course."

"Why did you give me the gift cards?"

Aaron smiles at her; it's effortless. "Because I wanted to see you again."

She gazes into his eyes, seemingly wounded by his response.

"I still want to see you," he adds, looking down at his fingernails before taking another swig of his beer.

"Why?" Rose asks.

"Why?" He fires back rhetorically. Rose stares back at him, her eyes soft but unphased. He wishes she could see how he feels. "It felt different."

They remain silent again for a while.

"Are you shy?" Rose blurts out.

"Uhm, well, yeah, I suppose I am. Sometimes."

She hums pensievely, "Sometimes," she parrots.

Aaron has never hated a club as much as he does right now. It's too loud; there are way too many people, and he feels watched.

"Would you like to go for a walk?" he asks.

A hint of a smile sneaks onto Rose's lips. "Yeah, sure."

The outside breeze is warm, but not nearly as stifling as inside the club. He rubs the sweat from his palms onto his trousers, feeling relieved after choosing his most breathable linen shirt. Spring is unmistakably progressing into summer, and Aaron finally feels like he can breathe again.

"Come on, then." Rose's playful tone is like music to his ears. "Ask me something else."

Aaron grins again, thankful for her initiative. "What was the naughtiest thing you did as a child?"

Rose ponders for a moment. "Well, I used to skip school with my cousin, and we'd move all of the furniture out of my mum and dad's living room and play badminton against the wall." The cheeky glint in her eyes is truly a sight to behold. "Then, before my parents came home, we would put it all back as it was, and they never knew."

Aaron bursts out laughing. "That's brilliant!" He can't remember the last time someone made him feel so lighthearted. As the echo of their laughter subsides, something warm begins to blossom in his chest. Something he can't quite put into words--but something special.

Rose nods, a sassy grin lighting up her face. "What about yourself?" she asks.

"I once fed my baby brother wasabi, telling him it was mint ice cream."

Rose's jaw drops, and she gasps in horror. "That's awful!" she shrieks, before succumbing to a fit of laughter.

And that's just how it goes. They walk and talk, losing track of time and space. Every now and then, when Rose laughs, she holds onto his arm, as if to steady herself, and Aaron loves the fact that there is already a closeness between them that transcends all physical barriers. No need to feign aloofness. After all, they've already touched each other's bodies all over. Aaron's inner self purrs in delight, knowing that there is something there.

"Were you happy to see me tonight?" He asks after a long and incredibly random conversation about Rose's favourite foods.

Rose blushes and smiles when she answers, "Yes."

"Have you thought about me?" He adds a slither of seduction to his voice.

This time she laughs out loud again and says, "Yes." Aaron thinks he'll never get tired of hearing her laugh.

"Why is that funny?"

She sighs and shakes her head at him. "Because!" she gasps, sounding almost childlike.

He dares to tease, "Have you thought about me like that??" giving her a gentle nudge.

Rose turns to him, her eyes wide like a doe. "I'm not telling you!!"

Aaron gives her a cocky smirk. "Ahhh, you have!" He teases.

They both laugh, and it's absurd, really. The whole scenario is questionable in its outlandish nature. It feels nice, though. Aaron hasn't felt like this around a girl since, well, since a really long time.

Aaron looks over at the shoreline and has an idea. "Come with me," he says, grabbing her hand and abruptly changing their trajectory. Rose doesn't protest; she simply goes along with him.

She's innocent--naive, even. He feels protective of her. It's dangerous territory in his line of work, but he's powerless to resist. His touch is tender, and his tone is soft when he speaks. He desperately wants her to trust him.