“Yikes, he sounds connected.”
“You have no idea,” Harry says as someone opens a door for us. “But he is not as powerful as Troy.”
As we enjoy sweet,rare liquors in the Polo Lounge of the Beverly Hills Hotel, we catch our breath. It’s nice with just the two of us and without me dressed as his help. Or wearing an apron.
Harry is charming and even funny at times. His hard outer shell is finally breaking away, and I am getting to see the less grumpy version of him.
After a rough year, with me leaving the dick in LA, and finally finding a new job, I too relax.
We talk about life, dreams, and values, and what we think is important.
Even if we are very different people, and we have come from different backgrounds, we are oddly similar in our beliefs.
Also, in our values and what we think is right and wrong.
We also agree that,that night, the night of the sex storm, we were clearly sexually compatible, and we could fuck like no others.
Not that we would do it again. Notever. Unless… maybe.
Finally, it’s late and bedtime. Harry walks me back to my suite like a true gentleman. He then bows his head an inch, and I walk inside my room. There is no kiss, and my stomach sinks.
Gasping, I touch my neck and find the large diamonds. I step out fast, and our eyes meet.
I run a fingertip along the ornate cold diamonds, and Harry walks my way.
Turning, I offer myself, and my butt to him. I keep my door from closing with my foot, and I am in the doorway. If he wants to take me, he can.
Here and now.
I won’t say no, and I will do anything he desires. Turning my jaw ever so slightly, I see and feel him step up to my butt.
I then feel his warm fingers on my skin, and I close my eyes.
His strong, long, and expert fingers brush against my neck, and I feel the electricity again. I want him to take me.
To unzip my gown.
To let it drop to the carpet.
To then walk me, in the diamonds and high heels, to the bed. To hold my butt as he enters me.
It does not come, andneither do I.
Harry carefully removes the diamond necklace and then he kisses my cheek as I turn.
“Thank you,” he says softly. “I enjoyed tonight, and it meant… Meant a lot.”
I nod and watch him back step.
He then tilts his head, turns, and walks away. Closing my hotel door, I inhale, lean against it, and sigh.
The next day,we board his private jet, and we fly north of LA.We talk more about life, hobbies, family vacations, and experiences as we grew up.
As we talk, I feed us delights from a deli I visited before we took off.
We picnic over California and we do it mid-air. We have cooked chicken, salads, and I even hand-feed him gherkins, so he can fly with two hands.
Harrison slowly opens up, becoming even more human.
