Was it really that awful that she felt she had to leave as soon as she woke up without even saying goodbye? I go back to my house, slamming the door shut behind me, frustrated and angry. I storm into the living room and then straight back out. I can smell her, her sweet, citrus scent, almost like sweet lemons and oranges. It’s everywhere, wrapping around me like a blanket that I can’t get out of.

London is a big city, but there can’t be that many Sophia James in London. Surely I can find her again. I go up stairs and back into my office. It even smells like her in here and we didn't even... Ugh.... Anyone who didn’t know me would think I had lost some long love. I turn on my computer and it whirs to life quietly. I drum my fingers on the desktop impatiently, trying to think of everything I know about her apart from her name.

I don’t have much to be honest. I type her name into Google followed by the Piccadilly area code. A dozen results appear in the phone directory, but two of these are in their fifties and another six are in care homes, leaving me with four but there’s every chance she lives in a rental rather than her own apartment. I go back to Google and do the same again and scroll down the results slowly. The title of a local news article about an art gallery opening catches my eye and I click on it. There she is cutting the ribbon on the door of her Gallery. The glass behind her reads ‘Passionate Minds Art’. Closed on a Saturday and Sunday, but I’ll find her on Monday. I’ll have her back in no time at all. She needn’t know I was looking for her. A man is allowed to buy a painting after all.

******

By the time Monday comes around I’ve managed to restore my mind to some order and come to the conclusion that, though it was an amazing night, it probably is something to be left in the past. I, however, have no desire to interact with people. A problem considering my job as an Art Gallery owner. It’s a good thing I have a highly competent assistant on days like today. By the time I’m done with a new window display, my assistant, Anya, has dealt with three clients and it’s only ten to eleven. I take up the rest of the paintings and prints and put them up around the studio in the places of the ones I’ve used for the window.

I’m about to place the final print when I hear a voice that stops my heart. “Hello, I’m looking to buy a painting, I wonder if you would advise me,” I watch as the print in my hands falls to the floor in slow motion. The frame breaks into four pieces and the glass in it smashes. The noise breaks my trance and I swear to myself, dropping to my knees and rescuing the print, unscathed, from the wreckage of the frame.

“Sophia, are you alright?” Anya comes around the wall that had been shielding me from the view of the front desk. I hear other footsteps and even they are recognizable. I feel his eyes burn into my back with the most delicious sensation.

“Uh huh. You see to the gentleman here. I’ll tidy the rest of this.” I say, my voice pitched just a little higher than usual. I daren’t turn around, terrified to be recognized by Mr Watkins, the very man who has just walked into the gallery. Anya walks away and the other footsteps go with her.

“I’m sorry Mr…”

“Watkins, Sam Watkins.” he answers her quickly.

“Mr Watkins, I’m sorry about that. These things happen. Now, what was it you were looking for in terms of a painting?” She covers her surprise well. I sweep away the rest of the broken frame and keep out of sight of the two of them as they move around the gallery. It isn’t until they get around the other side of the middle partition that I feel safe enough to make a dash for the back office with the salvaged print. I close the door behind me and breathe deeply, leaning heavily against the door.

“Sophia,” The door behind me budges against me and then clicks shut again. I turn and open it slowly, knowing exactly what’s coming. “Sophia, he’s interested in that piece by Mr Adams, The Ocean painting. I thought you would probably be best to deal with this sale,” I steal myself and breathe deeply, nodding and moving past her, determined not to be… hypnotized by him again. Anya moves into the office behind me and closes the door behind her. I curse inwardly.

“Mr Watkins, welcome to Passionate Minds. I hear you’re interested in this piece?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the painting in mind rather than looking up at him. It is a beautiful painting, the ocean on a bright, sunny day. The waves are so realistic that they could almost be coming out of the page despite being able to see almost every brush stroke.

He grips my upper arm and spins me towards him, pushing me into the wall between two paintings on the central partition. “You know I’m not here for paintings, Miss James,” he murmurs seductively.

“Mr Watkins, you shouldn’t have come here. I don’t even know how you found me,” I reply, trying to keep my voice low. My heart is beating fast again. I can feel it thundering in my chest as his power washes over me. I’m frightened and turned on in equal amounts and I don’t like that he can do this to me, especially after I’d managed to reject the idea adamantly.

“You left me without even saying goodbye. Of course I was going to try to find you,” he says, running a finger across my shoulder and then my arm.

“It was a no strings one-night thing, Mr Watkins. Or at least that’s what I intended,” I say, quivering at his touch.

“Don’t tell me that you wouldn’t do it again given the chance,” he murmurs, his dark eyes burning into mine in a vaguely threatening way.

“Mr Watkins, I have problems with separating my emotions from the things I do. I don’t think having sex again is a good idea, particularly when there is no possibility that the second time could ever overtake the first,” I say, but my breathing is so jumpy that it comes out in more of a panicked whisper.

“That wasn’t just sex, Miss James. That was making love and if you can make me, an eternal bachelor, think about you non-stop for three days because of making love with you for one night then I think we both have something pretty interesting to explore between us,” he murmurs, coming even closer. “No strings still applying of course,” His lips hover over mine and I tremble, feeling his hot breath brush across my cheek. His lips are almost pressed to mine. His hands tighten around my upper arm and my lower back. His lips finally touch mine sending thrills of searing pleasure right through me. My knees buckle beneath me and I throw my arms up around his neck to keep me upright.

The door to the office clicks open and then closed again and I can hear the click clack of Anya’s shoes. I tear myself away from Mr Watkins.

“So you’ll take the painting then, Mr Watkins?” I ask, breathlessly.

“I…” he answers, looking puzzled.

“I’ll just get the papers for you,” I blurt, going around one end of the partition as Anya rounds the other. Striding to the front desk, my hands shake as I take up the correct papers from the filing drawers. I set them on the counter and lean forward breathing heavily. I give myself a moment before heading back.

“Oh great, you found your painting,” Anya is… enthusiastic and a little over friendly and it suddenly makes me wonder what passed between them when I hid myself away for those few moments.

“Yes, she spoke very passionately about this painting in particular. I’ve decided to take it off your hands,” he replies, covering up the fact that I’ve probably sold him a painting he really doesn’t want for just over two and a half thousand pounds.

“Oh she’ll be sad to see it go. It’s her favourite in the gallery just now,” I curse her for saying that. You’d think I never told her about what happened. I hurry back with the papers, my hands still shaking.

“Here are the papers, Mr Watkins. If you could just sign here and here,” I say, handing him the clipboard and pointing to the spaces for the signatures, accidentally brushing my arm against his. He signs the paper and then hands it back to me. I keep my eyes on the clipboard at all times. I tear off the counterfoil and hand it to him. “How will you be paying today, Mr Watkins?” I ask, looking up briefly only to be caught in his eyes, still burning darkly.

“Cheque if that is ok?” he says as I tear my eyes away from him and look to Anya.

“Would you mind packaging Mr Watkins’s painting for him?”

“Of course.” she replies, looking at me, concerned, from behind Mr Watkins’s back.

“Mr Watkins, if you would follow me?” I ask, smiling professionally and then leading the way around the central partition I hear Anya walk in the other direction to the storeroom for bubble wrap for the three foot by two foot canvas as myself and Mr Watkins go to the counter. “I left you a note.” I say quietly as I step up behind the desk. “I told you why I left.”

“It didn’t need to be a goodbye, Sophia,” he replies, placing his large strong hands on mine as I make to log into the computer system.

“In my limited experience one-night-stands have no strings. Any more than one night and it all begins to get complicated,” I say, pulling my hand away and logging into the system. I log his name, the title of the painting and its price.

He smiles dashingly back at me. “Perhaps you’ll come over to help me find a place to hang it. You know where I live after all,” he murmurs softly.

“I’m sure you’re perfectly capable of finding a place to hang your painting by yourself,” I reply, almost harshly.

“Then go for dinner with me, tonight at the Citerion, just the two of us. We need to talk.”

“She’ll be there, Mr Watkins. Seven?” interrupts Anya, coming around behind the desk beside me. She slides the large canvas onto the desk towards Mr Watkins, picking up the check he had placed down before. I stare at her in horror.

“Miss James?” he asks, clearly appreciating that Anya is taking his side. I nod, slightly dumbstruck. “I’ll meet you there at seven then, Miss James,” he says, picking up the canvas carefully. “Thank you very much for your help, Anya,” he murmurs. She smiles and watches him as he leaves. I can’t take my eyes away from her, still dumbfounded by what she’s done to me.

“Stop looking at me like you don’t understand what just happened,” she says, finally looking at me. Her eyes are warm and firm. “He clearly likes you!” she says, shaking my shoulder.

“I can’t believe you did that,” I say, still looking at her incredulously.

She sighs in frustration. “You’ll thank me later,” she says, before turning away and heading for the office. “You’ll enjoy yourself when you’re there. Hey, you might even wake up tomorrow morning wi-,”

“Don’t even go there,” I snap, sitting down heavily behind the desk. She laughs as she closes the office door behind her again.

*********

I hadn’t quite expected to end up in her apartment after our dinner date and yet how could I possibly refuse an offer as innocent as it seemed, to continue our intriguing and scintillating conversation. Her home isn’t at all as I had imagined it. I had imagined a sleek, London apartment with modern appliances and a cool feeling. At least that’s the fashion of the day in London. Yet, her apartment is bright and airy. With its puffy fabric couch, vase of freesias in the centre of the coffee table, rustic oak dining table with matching chairs and a wall of bookcases cordoning off another block of the room, it is cozy and warm as well as neat and tidy. It feels loved and lived in, unlike my home.

“Ok, so I lied when I said we could have coffee here. I only have instant coffee and I only drink tea. You’re very welcome to the instant coffee though,” she says, walking towards the tidy and comfortable kitchenette area. I notice her feet are now bare and the pumps she had been wearing are lying side by side behind the sofa in the same place as she put down her cat, which is still staring at me.

“So you brought me up here under false pretenses?” I ask, stepping towards the kitchenette as she stretches up to get two pale green, floral mugs off of the top shelf of a cupboard above her head. The hem of her Sapphire Blue dress inches up the back of her legs, exposing more of their delectable shape. I do love her legs, long, flexible and smooth. 

“No, no, there’s instant coffee. So you’re welcome to that if you’d rather drink that to tea.” she replies without turning around. She drops a tea bag into one of the mugs and then turns to look at me. I don’t think she had expected to find me quite so close to her. Her eyes widen and she turns back to the mugs. Her hands suddenly begin to shake. “So what’ll it be, Mr Watkins?” she asks, trying to keep her tone light.

“I think,” I murmur, coming up behind her and placing a hand on the counter on either side of her waist. “I think I would like some of this,” I whisper, bending to speak into her ear. Her small body trembles against mine and her head tilts towards the sound of my whisper.

******

My heart rockets skywards at the caress of his hot breath on my cheek and neck. His whisper rushes through me more like a tornado than anything else. With one hand he brushes aside my hair from my neck before resting it down on my waist, bringing the other up to join it, pulling me closer into his firm body behind me. He kisses my throat, sending shooting bolts of desire straight through me. I close my eyes and feel my breathing become shallow. My head drops back against his chest.

I feel him lift me away from the counter and over the little distance before setting me down again on the wooden dinner table, turning me in his arms as he does so. I open my eyes to look up at him. He looks down at me, his eyes burning as they did on Friday night. I quiver in his arms, remembering the unforgettable pleasure from that night.

“It’s ok,” he murmurs reassuringly, leaning down to kiss me. He takes my lower lip between his teeth and bites gently as I wind my arms up around his neck and his arms tighten around me. The fingers of his left hand unzip the back of my dress slowly and then slide under the tight fitting material to lie flat against my back as he kisses me. I pull his tie off with one of my hands and undo the first two buttons on his shirt before he stops me and steps back to pull off his jacket. I run my hand across the soft surface of his shirt as he steps back up to me.

“I know,” I whisper as he wraps himself around me once more, kissing my neck and throat and shoulders as my dress comes loose about my chest. I undo the buttons on his shirt carefully this time. He lets me take my time and shrugs it off once I’m done. He isn’t wearing a belt tonight and I wonder if he knew what was going to happen, if he’d planned it. Both of his hands slip under my dress, pushing it down. I stand up and feel it fall to the floor. He pulls away from me and looks down. I stand, mostly naked in front of him, feeling the cool air in the apartment brush across me raising goose pimples on my skin.

“Come with me.” I murmur, keeping my arms around his neck and leading him past the living area and into my bedroom area behind the bookcases. I let go of him and drop onto the bed behind me, pulling myself up to the pillows, one knee bent upwards. He stands there for a moment and just watches me. I crook my eyebrow at him. “Are you seriously just going to stand there?” I ask, feeling my nerves begin to come back to me.

“You sure?”

“Amazing sex with a friend, no strings?” I reply, reaching up and snatching his lips to mine, at the same time doubting my own certainty. I shove it to the back of my mind as he ravages my mouth. Our tongues battle together for supremacy as his hands slide under the waistband of my underwear and slide them carefully off of my legs. I breathe heavily beneath him as I undo his trousers.

He stiffens above me as my hand brushes his hard length beneath his boxer briefs. I smile against him and grip the length that’s been plaguing my dreams since Friday night. He groans into my mouth and slips two fingers between my thighs into the slick hotness he finds there. I arch away from him automatically and his lips run down my throat. He pushes two of his long fingers up into me and I push down on his hand emitting a moan, which is almost painful in the desperation present in it.

“My God, you’re amazing.” he growls into me as his fingers push against the sensitive walls of my channel, sending me reeling. I writhe against him, moving my hand against his cock, unable to prevent myself from grinding against him. All it takes is his lips to press just ever so gently over my nipple and I immediately fall over the edge. I scream out, moving my hands and digging my nails into his hips as I crash over the waves of pleasure, which rush through me.

His hand doesn’t stop moving until he has gentled me back down. He presses his lips back to mine again and I feel his hand leave me to pull off his boxers and socks and slip on a condom and then he comes back to me, brushing hair away from my face. I grip his shoulders tightly and wrap my legs up around his hips, pulling his hips down in order to nestle the head of his long length at the entrance to my channel. He quivers above me and groans; he closes his eyes for a moment, as if willing his self control into place.

I use my weight to swing myself down onto his shaft quickly. He hadn’t expected that and his eyes flash open again as my tight passage envelopes his long, thick cock. I gasp, having forgotten just how large he is. I close my eyes and arch against him again, keeping him inside me and refusing to move back again until I’m ready. I hold him steady for a moment but I can feel him shaking above me and I know he’s at pains to keep from hurting me. I’ve never had a man who cares how I feel, whether I hurt or not.

“Same as before, Sam,” I murmur, opening my eyes and tightening the walls of my channel about him. He grins at me and then pulls out before slamming back into me. He repeats the movement again and again, every movement getting harder and faster than the one before and soon he has me writhing around him once more with an intense orgasm. I clench painfully around his member as he continues to pummel me throughout my orgasm, ripping from me in a scream that causes my back to arch, my hands clutching onto his shoulders as he continues his glorious assault. His lips press hard to mine as I come for a third time just a few moments later and then he wrenches his lips away and roars so animalistically that, for a moment, I’m afraid.

He holds himself carefully above me and I see the sinews in his arms and neck straining from the effort as he comes hard into me. He presses his lips to mine a good few moments later, pulling me onto my side and he falls to the mattress beside me. I share a long passionate kiss with him, feeling his hands running through my hair. After a few moments of regaining our breath I slowly drift off to sleep, both unwilling and unable to pull myself out of his warm embrace.

In the morning I wake to hardness pressed against the back of my thighs. I look over my shoulder at Sam spooning in behind me. Like Friday morning he looks extremely peaceful in his sleep. His breathing is slow and deep. His arm is tight around me, one hand clutching my left breast loosely. His hardness throbs against me. I feel my own arousal deepen at the feeling. I reach down and grip it gently in my hand, hard as iron, smooth as velvet. I line it up with my channel and slide down onto it, sighing with quiet satisfaction.

“This is called extortion,” he murmurs in my ear, sounding sleepy.

“I may be abusing my position as friend to you for sex, but that is part of our agreement. Don’t tell me it’s not a nice way to wake up,” I whisper back, lifting my hips nearly all of the way off of him before sliding back down.

“I never said I was complaining,” he replies, kissing the back of my neck as I slide back up and then down again. “However, your pace is just teasing,” he says, tightening his grip on my breast and rolling onto his stomach, keeping me prone beneath him.

“Gently, Sam. I have to walk to work this morning,” I murmur, resting my head on my arms as he raises himself behind me, pressing my legs open so he can kneel between them, his long length still between my thighs. He lifts my hips so I’m almost sitting on his lap. I pull myself up and with my back against his chest I feel him begin to move, slow at first, but growing in speed as he pushes himself up into me. I lean heavily against him as one of his hands slips between my legs above where we are joined. His fingers rub over the tiny pearl there, pushing me closer and closer to a climax with each thrust.

I moan and twist my head around to meet his lips. My hand comes up to cup the back of his head behind me as he dips his lips to claim my own. He speeds up his pace until neither of us can prolong our kiss any longer. I drop forward onto all fours and he falls in behind me, hammering into me from behind. His hand still rubs between my thighs until I cry out and buck around him as my orgasm hits me more powerfully than before. I collapse forward against the pillows as he climbs still further to his own orgasm.

We lie breathless together until we regain our breath, his fingers running in circles over my skin as I lie on my stomach beside him, my eyes closed as I revel in the glow of it. Eventually I push myself up on my arms so I can look at him lying beside me. He smiles at me.

“I have to get ready for work. Anya will never let this go if I’m late,” I say, rolling out of the other side of the bed.

“As much as I can’t get enough of you, you’re right. I can’t stay away from work either. I have a business to run,” he agrees, sitting up and running his hands through his hair. “On a platonic level, you are beautiful, Sophia. Without a doubt,” I blush and shake my head, before grabbing up my dressing gown and heading into the bathroom. It isn’t too long, however, before I find I am no longer alone…