The Proposal Ch. 03

The ex-wife stopped dead in her tracks, spun around, and stared at the younger woman. "You leave my daughter out of this. He gave up joint custody."

"And he never called afterwards, or wrote, asking to see her?"

"You little fucking whore. Just because you can give him your O face right now, don't get snooty with me. I give you a year."

"I give you two minutes to get out of here, or I'll whip your ass again."

"You know, if you call ahead, I'll have breakfast waiting for you when you get here." He watched her drop the paper bag on the conference table, then stalk across the room towards him. She was dressed for school in jeans and a t-shirt, and yet he found her incredibly sexy. She was sexy when she was mad.

"Angelina came down and tracked me down in the gym." She related what the woman had told her, and he listened, having fully expected this turn of events.

"She must have come to see you right before she went to the airport. She flew out a couple of minutes ago."

"How do you know?"

"Friends in low places."

"Naturally." She came around the desk, and sat on his lap. "I want you to fuck me. Right now, right here, on your desk. Don't hold back anymore. I want it all. Show me how you feel."

He looked in her eyes, then he obliged. Their clothes formed a pile on the floor as they stripped each other, kissing and racing. It was fast, his cock already hard, her pussy sopping wet. She ignored the stabbing pain of whatever he laid her on, and once he entered her it disappeared totally from her conscious mind.

There was biting, clawing, scratching, screaming, begging, tears, release, tension and satisfaction as he alternated between eating and fucking her. She was out of control, thrashing around on his desk, her body on fire, her pussy sending out signals like never before. Her clit was in danger of exploding any minute, and her brain was unable to handle all the signals racing up her spine.

They were sweating, glued together, papers sticking to them, eyes wide and wild, breathing ragged and rushed, the moment eluding her until he granted it. She cried out his name, as he filled her, her nails breaking the skin on his back as she dug in, legs wrapped around his waist.

They lay together, panting and wheezing, trying to catch their breath, trying to not slip off the table. Finally he released her, and she collected her clothes, heading for the bathroom. She stood before him; naked as the day she was born, looking at the man in her life.

"I love you Jonathan. No matter what, I love you."

"I know you do." He stroked her cheek, kissing her forehead. "I love you Amber. You are a little angel."

She smiled, then turned and headed into the small bathroom, noticing that he had stocked the medicine cabinet with an almost exact copy of the hygiene products she used at home. At least he was putting that detail-oriented mind to good use. She smiled at the gesture. He had even invested in a hairbrush.

It was time to head to class, so she pushed back into the office, finding Mike and Jonathan standing over the conference table, looking down at what looked like some kind of massive blue print.

"Hello Amber." Michael Robinson looked like he was damn near seven feet tall, something not helped by the fact that no matter how much he ate, he was as skinny as a scarecrow. He had started balding a while back, and on a dare he had shaved his head. Now it glinted in the overhead lights, which he almost touched with his dome.

"Hello Mr. Robinson." He grimaced, but she smiled her best smile at him. He insisted she call him Mike, but she just could not bring herself to do it. She called Jonathan by his name, instead of Joni, or some other bastardized version, so it was either Michael or Mr. Robinson.

Jonathan came over, kissing his girlfriend on the lips before she had to pull away. She was going to be late for class already. "I'll call you later." She accompanied it with the sexiest smile she could muster, and the look on his face told her it had achieved its effect.

"Can you cook?"

"What do you mean, can I cook? I've been a bachelor for a while, I can take care of myself."

"I figured you had a chef on staff."

"Don't be ridiculous, of course I can cook. Come over here."

"Ok. Let the record show that I asked first, and gave you the chance to back out of this idea."

"You are getting a spanking when you get here."

"Ohhh…I feel speeding ticket number seven coming on." She dropped the phone onto the bed, and looked at her closet. What to wear to a dinner for two at his house?

His house sat on a two-acre plot in an older part of town, where the trees had been there long enough to grow into majestic creations of nature, and the houses didn't all look the same. Most of them had walls that surrounded them from back when that was still in style, and some of them even had functional gates. His house was one of those.

She had her own code to get in, and so the gate slipped into the ground, allowing her to roll up the driveway to the house, parking in front of the garage. The yard was beautifully maintained a crew that came by twice a week, and who put a lot of emphasis on flowers. Many of the ones he gave her were freshly cut from his own yard. That added a special touch.

She also had a key to the house, but he rarely locked his door, so she just let herself in. The entry was a huge and imposing, with two sweeping staircases leading upwards, and a large entrance down several steps to the living room. He had redone the whole place in granite a couple of years ago, which went well with the fire he had going in the huge fireplace against the far wall, and the white and black furniture he so favored.

The whole house was rigged with a wide variety of wireless gadgets and such, including speakers that softly played classical music. She had downloaded a wide variety of more modern fare to the server that ran the house, but she doubted he ever listened too much of it.

Something smelled good, so she turned right, and walked back up two steps stepping past the dinning area that was set for two, and into the huge kitchen. She had always just figured that he had paid somebody to install every type of kitchen device known to man, hang a bunch of pots from the ceiling, and then stock the house with enough food to feed an army. She had never thought he actually knew how to use any of it. She had been wrong.

He had his sleeves rolled up, and was standing over the indoor grill that sat next to the massive glass-top stove. The flame was roaring at a constant, controlled throttle, and she could hear him humming with the music. A series of bowls were sitting on the island between them, and she could see shrimp marinating in a shallow dish sitting off to the side. A wok was sizzling on the stove, and the smell filling the air was delicious. He had surprised her again.

Which gave her an idea. Without making a sound she slid to her right, and quietly pulled open the door to the pantry. She did not close it all the way, trying to minimize sound, but found what she needed in the semi-darkness, and managed to set up her little plan.

Jonathan had done a lot of things in his lifetime. One of them was a vacation that had been meant to reconnect him with a wife that was clearly on her way out of his life, spent at an old castle in France, being taught how to cook by three world class chefs', and lounging on the beach. He still stayed in contact with Pierre. If he ever saw Andre', he was going to punch that clown in the face for getting it on with his now ex-wife. Or maybe not. Most of his anger at that situation had recently dissipated.

But one of the things he had never seen was a naked woman standing in his kitchen. Well, she was not really naked. She was dressed in high heels, and an apron that had not been used in years, probably because it had several holes in it, and the lose strings barely held it back.

"When you got yourself a call girl, is this what you pictured?" She was in her pose again, hip cocked out, hair down, smoldering eyes and sultry voice. He grabbed the counter, his cock wanting to burst out of his pants, and sent a silent prayer upward, thanking his dear lord and creator for blessing him with such an abundance of lovely skin, a full harvest of incredible breasts, a flood of shining hair, and the beautiful hills of her ass.

"No. But let me tell you, the reality is outliving my wildest dreams by far." And had, since the day they first started screwing like rabbits. "Wow. You are incredible." He took her into his arms, feeling the heat from her body through the thin material, his hands tracing down her back and ass, squeezing it, listening to her giggle.

"What an amazing little woman I have."

"You like it?"

"Love it."

She slowly backed away, smacking his hands down. "Cause you don't get any until after dinner. I'm excited to see if your cooking is as good as your bragging."

"You are kidding, right?"

"Nope." She hoped up on the counter, crossing her legs, flashing him her pussy. He could tell that it was freshly shaved.

"I think I preferred the days when I would just tell you to have sex with me."

She giggled again, her breasts jiggling. "So what are we having?"

"Shrimp wrapped in bacon and cheese, with stir fried vegetables."

"Impressive."

And it was. She would never have thought that his many talents included gourmet cooking, but then again, why not? With his laser like focus on the smallest details, it would follow naturally that he would be a great chef.

He continued to try to talk her out of her apron as they sat at the table, the candle dancing with the wind from their voices and laughter, until finally they adjourned to the massive couch, and she granted his wish.

He took it off slowly, and she slid into his lap. She liked being on top of him, like the reactions it got from him. Climbing onto his face, she lowered her pussy down to his hungry tongue, and he went crazy on his desert. It took all her strength to keep herself upright over him, her body shaking and quivering as he grabbed her hips and ate her with his hearts content. She cried and bucked against him, fucking his tongue, her arms flexing and clenching, until finally she was not able to hold herself anymore, and she slowly slid down his body, her pussy leaving a trail of juices down his chest.

A big hungry cock was waiting for her, and she moaned out as it filled her. She slid right onto it, taking all the way into her. They sat like that for a moment, feeling connected, as she adjusted her legs under her, and looked into his eyes.

"You are so beautiful."

"You are sweet man. Now I'm going to fuck you senseless daddy." And she did.

There was a peaceful quality when she was sleeping, the sheet halfway down her waist, exposing her breasts, slowly rising with her shallow, easy breathing. She seemed to always be smiling when she slept, and he wondered what she dreamed.

He sat in his chair, watching her, hands folded underneath his chin. It was routine for him to get up in the middle of the night, a time for him to sit in the perfect peace and quiet, and let his brain roam over the problems that he had to crunch out.

To his very organized way of thinking, she was not a problem. Indeed, she was the solution to many of the things that ailed him. Like the ray of light that burns away the fog, she brought out depths of happiness in him that he had not experienced in a very long time, if ever. A woman who would love him no matter if he had nothing, and who care not how much he did have. A woman who laughed uncontrollably no matter where they were, and who was honestly awed by all the silly trappings of wealth. What an angel.

Angelina showing up was not something that had caught him off guard, or unprepared. He had known the minute she had stepped of that plane, and been ready for it. What he had not expected was for her to track down Amber, and confront her. But he was pretty sure that his ex had also not counted on getting her ass kicked by the little firecracker. He sure hadn't. It was common for her to pop up whenever he had a chance at happiness, and then piss all over it. Her usual displays had been enough to scare a different woman away, but he did not think that Amber scared easily.

She rolled in his bed, the sheet pulling up with her, obscuring her tits now, but exposing her ass and back. He fondly remembered the first night he had been with her, the way she had been like a babe in the woods when it came to true intimacy, not the wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am screwing of inexperienced partners she was used to. That had been months ago, and since then she had grown leaps and bounds into the aggressive, self assured and self confident tigress that knew what she wanted, what she wanted to do, and was not to be deterred.

He had always considered himself fairly experienced, sexually. But he had never done it in a car until she had climbed on top of him, or in a commercial airliner. Her passion seemed to know no bounds, and the way she used her eyes, hips, and tits to entice him was something that made his heart skip a beat each time. As much as he had shown and taught her, she had done the same for him.

Slowly her left leg slipped backwards, backwards, backwards, sliding across the sheets as she rolled onto her stomach, clutching her pillow tight. A small droll spot former under the corner of her mouth, and he had a strong desire to go kiss those full lips. But there was a certain reality here that could not be denied.

She was twenty-one, moving through college, not yet totally sure what her life would hold. He was approaching forty-three, twice her age, and well established in what it was he wanted to do. What if she wanted to leave the city when college was done? Would he go with her? Kind of late in the game to start moving around again. He could start, run, and be successful with a company anywhere in this country, but did he have the energy left for that? But would it even come to that? She could meet somebody in class tomorrow, some young stud with bright eyes, good hair, and white teeth, the kind of pussy hound he used to be in college. But even if they made it, where would they be when he was seventy, and she was hitting fifty? The gap looked a bit bigger then. And what if she wanted kids…how did he feel about that?

He stopped the spinning cycle in his brain, the duty Brain cell cutting off the power to a loop of thought that was not going anywhere. What was the alternative? Let this sweet piece of ass slip through his fingers, and hope against hope that there was a woman his age that could do the same things for him that this one could? Fat chance.

One of the things he liked most about the business was grooming up and coming bankers. He used a lot of quotes and historical examples to illustrate what he tried to teach them, and one of those now came to mind. Anything worthwhile caries the risk of failure. Lee Iacocca said that, he remembered. If he wanted to be warmed by her fire, he would have to risk getting burned.

"You coming to bed?" Her voice ripped him from his revelry. She was sitting up, the green emeralds blinking in the moonlight, licking her lips.

"I'll be there in a minute." He watched as she slipped from the sheets, slowly stalking towards him. His breath caught as her fingers touched his face, drawing it in close, hugging him to her flat stomach.

"You okay baby?" Leaning down, she kissed the top of his head, scratching his back. He did not know what a light sleeper she was, and that she knew fully well when he slipped from the sheets, when he returned, and that he sat there and watched her between. It was still rare for them to spend full nights together, but she remembered each one.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He smiled up at her, watching her hair shine. She was lovely and he told her so. She giggled, then slipped onto his lap, legs wrapping around him, kissing him softly. She held his face in her hands, kissing him all over, pulling him close, and cuddling him into her. "Come to bed."

He picked her up, carrying her back to the massive four-post structure. They slid under the sheets together, but she saw in his eyes that sleep was not there yet. She had a solution for that, crawling onto him. He protested weakly, already having been ravaged by her twice that night, but she ignored him. Other parts of his anatomy were more accommodating, and soon enough he was screaming her name. She cradled him close, watching him pass into sleep in her arms. She loved her daddy.

The small white ball curved up, up, up, passing through its apogee, and began to curve back down. It had sliced slightly to the right, but landed almost perfectly at the two hundred yard marker, hitting the green, bouncing a couple of times, and rolling to a stop on the far side of the white sign.

"That's a dollar." Markus could not match Jonathan in straight drives, but he was known for his precision accuracy. He had pinged the sign a second ago, a feat that Jonathan had bet him he could duplicate.

"Take your stinking dollar." Jonathan watched as his friend picked up the greenback, sniffed it, and stuffed it in his pocket. "Dirty motherfucker. Put it towards little Jonathans college fund."

"I might buy my wife something nice with it. Like a pack of gum."

"You ought to, after she gave you six kids."

"I know, I'm a lucky guy. How lucky have you been lately?"

Jonathan laughed, teeing up another ball. "Five bucks says I can do it now."

"Go for it." Markus leaned back against the bench, knowing fully well that he was going to walk out of here tonight with at least twenty bucks.

"This whole relationship thing is screwing with me. I mean…I don't think I've ever been this happy. You know what I did the other night?" He whacked the ball, watching it curve, curve, curve, and then slam right into the center of the sign, a loud clang echoing through the night. The massive spotlights lighting up the driving range applauded, or at least he liked to think so.

"What?" Markus slid the five bucks underneath the water bottle serving as their cash exchange.

"Went to a dance club. And danced. Or tried to, anyways. She more used me as a pole to dance around. It was awesome. One of those loud places full of college girls and cheap beer. Two dollar vodka drinks all night, pouring Absolute, so that wasn't that bad. She's an incredible dancer. So next time Margie is giving you shit about wanting to go out dancing, we're game. Five bucks I can do it again." He teed up, and resumed his stance. "But then, I lay awake at night, either alone in my place, or with her next to me, and I wonder what will it be like in fifty years. What if she wants kids? What if she meets some Giambi look-a-like with massive arms in accounting class, who's hung like a horse, and spits game like a Vegas casino? What if she gets tired of me in ten years."

His swing was beautiful, the slice of the ball flat, cracking off the tee like a rifle shot, cutting through the air, and slamming into the sign, bouncing back with a loud clang. Markus could not believe it, and forked over the next five. What the hell had gotten into his friend?

"But then…I think so myself that the other option is even worse. Three hundred yarder for five." He teed up, squared up, and looked downrange. "I mean, I could ditch her, and be alone again. Or I can hang on, ride this one till the wheels fall off, and then walk away with a smile." The ball raced into the night, high, high, high, high, high, then seemed to just drop, and bounce against the three in the three hundred yard sign. Markus almost vomited, slipping his last five-dollar bill underneath the bottle. This was unreal.

"Three fifty, double or nothing." Jonathan dropped his last ball onto the tee, took a deep breath, and squared up. "That mall we are going to build in Lincolnton? Apparently they have some kind of festival up there every year, something to do with something the farmers around there grow. The city council wants us to come up and see it, and display our final plan. So, I'm thinking I should go, and meet the parents while we are at it. What do you think?"