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"So what was that all about?" Kristen asked anxiously.

"She said that since this is your first time, she's keeping it off your record," I answered her.

"She could have told that to all of us," Kristen thought out loud and then eyed my suspiciously. "Did you flirt with her?"

I normally don't like to tell lies, but I knew that Principal Michelle Petersen wanted discretion and Kristen didn't need to know about my sex life. "She and I have some mutual friends and we were just catching up," I offered and then added before she could question me further, "Go get your stuff. We'll meet you outside."

Kris did as she was told and went off to her locker to collect her school bag. Alex and I walked out of the building and towards the parking lot.

"You have slept with her, haven't you?" Alex asked, and I thought I had detected some amusement in her voice. While I contemplated my answer, she added, "A seventeen year old girl may not have noticed it, but I certainly saw the hesitation between you two when Kristen introduced you."

I shrugged my shoulders. There was no sense in lying. Besides, for some strange reason, I didn't feel right lying to this woman walking with me. "It was a long time ago," I answered.

"You didn't shag her back there in her office did you?" she asked, this time, sounding fearful of the possible truth.

I laughed. "No, we didn't," I answered. "Besides, I like to take my time." I swore I saw her blush. I considered telling her that I was going to see Michelle later in the week, but then realized it would have sounded like I was whoring myself for Kristen. When we got to my bike, I pointed at it. "This is me, obviously."

"Nice bike," she complimented with a smile, giving the Triumph Street Triple a once over.

"Thank you," I accepted and sat sideways on the seat of the bike. "I have a few weaknesses, fast motor vehicles being one of them."

"And women being the other?" she added teasingly.

"Perhaps," I told her and held her gaze for a moment. I decided to change the subject when Grace's voice kept screaming at me to stop flirting. "Did you find out from Kris why she was smoking?"

"No, she was too busy begging me to not tell her parents that we never got 'round to that conversation," Alex answered.

As if on cue, Kristen came out of the school and joined us in the parking lot.

"So, out with it, girl," Alex accosted her immediately. "How long have you been smoking?"

"I haven't," the girl answered sheepishly. "This was my first time."

"What on earth would possess you to try smoking?" Alex continued to interrogate the kid.

"Riley smokes," Kris tried to deflect the topic to me. Alex turned to look at me and I realized that I had a cigarette in my mouth and my lighter in my hand.

"I smoke as a form of occupational therapy," I began to defend myself but then realized what Kris was doing. "Besides, this isn't about me, it's about you," I told her, diverting the conversation back to her.

Alex turned back to Kris and added, "It's a disgusting habit not to mention it's illegal for you and unhealthy!" Alex and Kristen both turned to look at me again.

It was something in the way Alex said "disgusting" that made me lose all desire to light up the tobacco stick. I stopped mid-action and closed the lid of my lighter. I took the cigarette and put it back in the pack, aimed the pack and tossed it into a garbage bin nearby.

"I'll quit so long as you don't start up," I told Kristen after Alex gave me a curious look.

Alex turned back to Kristen, expecting some kind of response from the girl who finally shrugged her shoulders and said, "It was kinda gross anyway. It won't happen again."

"It had better not or you know I'll have to let the parental unit know," I told her and she looked at me as if to say "how could you betray me?"

She's always known that I am a woman of my word, so as long as she kept her nose clean, I would forget about the incident from today. Luckily for her, she accepted today's victory and I knew she wouldn't be caught dead smoking again, at least before she turned eighteen. Softening my demeanor, I asked her, "Do you want a ride or do you wanna risk it with the Brit in the behemoth SUV?"

"Hmmm....motorcycle...Range Rover....motorcycle....Range Rover," Kristen pretended to weigh her options. "Not much of a contest there."

I unlocked the extra helmet I had brought along and she slipped it on. "I'll follow you back to the house," I told Alex.

Alex

We arrived home after awhile as I was still getting used to driving on the wrong side of the street so avoided the freeways as much as possible, which resulted in a lot of side and residential roads to return to Grace's house in Pacific Palisades. But we made it back without incident and Kristen climbed off the motorcycle. For some inexplicable reason, I heard myself ask, "Do you want to stay for a bit? Maybe for dinner?" Riley, still sitting on her motorbike looked at me curiously.

"That is if you don't have any plans," I managed to stutter out. What was I thinking. Of course THE Riley Carson, if she was who Grace seemed to personify her as, would have plans on a day off.

"Are you cooking?" she asked and I couldn't tell if she was horrified at the thought of eating a vegetarian meal or if she was teasing me again.

"Yes, I can cook, thank you very much," I told her, feigning offense at her comment.

"So long as it's not vegetarian lasagna, I'd love to stay," she answered, getting off her motorcycle.

"I promise it won't be vegetarian lasagna," I assured her. She took off her helmet and ruffled her hair which was now a haphazard mess, but nonetheless adorable. 'Christ, get a grip, Alexis!' a voice inside my head shouted at me. I mentally shook my head and we headed into the house where Kristen went off to change out of her school uniform and Riley and I went into the kitchen to get a drink. Riley, to my surprise, declined an offer for a beer and instead chose sparkling water, reasoning that she didn't like to drink and drive, even if it was just one beer. Kristen came down after changing and asked Riley to help her with some chemistry homework. Thankfully Riley was able to help her as I have always been pretty useless when it came to the sciences.

I grabbed my laptop and figured I'd try to see if I could get past my writer's block and settled down at the breakfast counter, a few feet away from the two younger girls to give them some room. I browsed through the archives of the LA Times to see what articles had been written already and what had not to give me a starting point. I caught myself frequently looking over my laptop towards Riley and Kristen and the older one would, intermittently, try to explain something to the teenager animatedly with her hands and arms. She wore a silver ring on her right middle finger and I noticed that she had strong yet feminine hands with long slender fingers.

After she had explained how rates of reactions were calculated, she folded her arms on the counter and watched Kristen work on some exercises from her text book. Riley's right hand was rubbing her left upper arm and when her t-shirt sleeve inched up a bit, I thought I saw another tattoo on her tricep. I wondered just how many tattoos this girl had? I had heard they were addictive but I just thought it was an excuse for people to get more tattoos. My mind began to wonder about other things - When did she first realize she was gay? How many women had she been with? Was she a one-night stand kind of girl or did she ever have girlfriends? If she had girlfriends, then that encounter that left her with a hangover a couple of weeks ago, was that an indiscretion? Had she ever cheated? I must have zoned out because the next thing I knew, she was looking right at me with smirk on her face and I felt myself blushing.

"How's it going?" she asked, giving a nod to my laptop.

I swallowed a mouthful of air. "Um, fine, thank you. Just a bit of writer's block."

"I'm sure you'll come up with something," she answered and gave me a smile and I couldn't help but smile in return. "I've read your blogs. You're a talented writer."

I felt myself blush even more. "Thank you."

She turned back to Kristen and the homework but not before I caught a quick wink. I chastised myself for having been staring at her and then getting caught. I argued with myself that I couldn't help it. There was just something so charming and alluring about her. When was the last time I had met anyone as charming as her? Ah yes, years ago, and I fell in love with him. And he cheated on me. No, I had promised myself that I would not write anything regarding my ex-boyfriend or the heartache I had gone through because then I'd just be another bitter bitch who was done wrong by a man and writing about it. But wait...I looked up at Riley again and I could see why Grace called her a Casanova. She had a very strong sex appeal to her. What if I wrote a series of articles? What if I wrote about infidelities and indiscretions and all the different types and forms they take on? Articles on topics like infidelity are bound to bring in a plethora of comments and that's exactly what newspapers do - they want comments, good or bad, because it meant someone was reading it.

I started to type down my ideas for what I'd write about and before I knew it, I had come up with three possible article ideas for my series. And even if the LA Times editor didn't want it or like them, I could post them on my own blog. Ah, the perks of being a freelance journalist. "You sound like you're on a roll," Riley's voice broke through my thoughts and I looked up to see her sitting on the bar stool beside me.

"I guess when an idea hits, I run with it," I answered and looked at the wall clock. "I guess I best get on with making dinner, shouldn't I?"

"Can I help with anything?" she offered and I was going to say no, but then remembered that I was in the presence of a professional chef. What in the hell was I thinking, inviting a professional chef to have dinner with us?

"The Caesar Salad?" I tossed out as an option.

"Caesar salad I can make," she said smiling.

"Good," I told her and shut down my laptop. "I was going to make mushroom risotto. That alright?"

"Sounds good...but where does the meat come in?" she deadpanned.

Luckily, before I got my knickers in a knot, I realized she was teasing me again. "Indulge me, alright?" I pleaded with her, looking into her green eyes. I saw her tongue flick over her bottom lip and she bit down on it. "Absolutely," she finally said huskily, the brown flecks in her eyes having grown darker.

She went to the fridge to gather whatever ingredients she felt she needed to make the dressing from scratch and I got the rice, vegetable stock, mushrooms and other ingredients for the risotto. I set the stock to begin simmering on the stove while I cut up the shallots, garlic and mushrooms. As I started to slice the first shallot, I thought I heard something from my kitchen companion. I looked over at her and she had a huge grin on her face and I realized she was chuckling at me."What?" I asked self-consciously.

"May I?" she asked softly in that deep voice I have found to be soothing. She held out her hand and it took me a moment to realize that she was asking me for the knife I was holding. I offered her the handle and she moved closer beside me and took it. Holding her right hand open, palm facing upwards, she laid the knife handle in her palm and proceeded to explain to me how to position my middle finger against the back of the blade and how to grasp the knife blade between my thumb and side of my index finger. "Don't treat the knife as an extension of you. It is you," she explained rather seriously.

"Does that work on all the girls?" I teased her and a flash of confusion crossed her facial features.

"What?" she asked.

"The whole Zen of cooking and slicing and dicing," I elaborated and she lowered her head and grinned, her cheeks turning pink.

"Oh," she said with realization. "Yeah, I guess that did come out pretty cheesy." She put the knife down and moved around me to stand on my right side. Her embarrassment was quite cute actually, and for the first time since I had met her, I felt like she wasn't intentionally flirting or turning on the charm.

"Hold out your hand," she told me and I complied, holding my right hand out, palm facing upwards. She put her right hand under mine and placed the knife in my hand. With her hands, she closed my fingers around the knife and positioned my thumb and index finger accordingly. "See how much more control you have over the knife when you hold it this way?" she asked, her hand still on mine as she turned it and we mimicked some cutting motions. I nodded. From the first moment her hand touched mine, I had felt a flush throughout my body and I couldn't trust my voice to not betray the rapid beating inside my chest. She released my hand and handed me one of the shallot bulbs. I started to slice into it and after a couple of cuts, she had me stop and hand her the knife and showed me how to properly dice the shallot. She handed the knife back to me. Her proximity had caused a momentary lapse in my short term memory and I apparently grasped the knife handle incorrectly. She quietly corrected me and adjusted the knife in my hand again and I was able to dice the second shallot to her approval.

She returned to making the salad dressing and the salad and then proceeded to cut up the wild mushrooms while I started to cook the risotto. We chatted amiably while we cooked and I learned that she had taken a year off after high school and travelled through Latin America, Europe and Asia. As she went from place to place, she had begun to appreciate the various local cuisine and flavors. Half way through her travels, she decided to become a chef and applied to the Culinary Institute of America in New York and started her studies after her world tour. She worked in a few restaurants to gain as much experience as she could and saved up to open up Claire de Lune with her best friend. When she talked about her experiences and of her own restaurant, I saw a raw and honest passion that emanated from her. If only more people could be as passionate about their work as she was, there would be a lot more happier people in the world.

When the risotto and mushrooms were cooked, we mixed them together and then I surprised her with a sprinkle of truffle oil on each plate of rice. Kristen and Madison joined us for dinner and retreated back to their rooms to finish their homework and studies. As we cleared the table and were putting the dishes in the dishwasher, I inquired as to when she had gotten into motorcycle riding and she asked if I wanted to go for a ride. The girls were occupied with their studying and Grace had not required a ride from the airport as she was having a car service pick her and Sarah up, so I accepted the invitation. I changed from out of my skirt into a pair of jeans and a leather jacket and we headed out to her bike.

She handed me the spare helmet and before I strapped it on, she outlined her three rules for riding with her, "Hold onto me at all times. Lean with me when I lean. Do not get off the bike until I tell you it's safe. Okay?" she asked, doing up the chin strap on her own helmet. I nodded and she got on her bike and lifted it off the kick stand. She motioned for me to climb on, which I did, and I wrapped my arms around her waist. She started the engine and after checking that I was ready, we rolled down and out the drive way.

I was nervous at first, as I had never been on a motorcycle before, but she handled the bike well, shifting smoothly from one gear to the next. I could tell that she wasn't going as fast as she probably normally did, and I was grateful for it so that I could acclimate myself to the feeling of basically being unprotected on the streets and moving fast. Once we left the busy city streets and found ourselves on more deserted roads in the mountain ranges, she picked up some more speed and we wove and wound our way up the cliffs. The feeling of being on the motorcycle with her was exhilarating and I could see why she rode a bike. Eventually she slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road where there was a patch of ground for stopping on an otherwise narrow roadway. She killed the engine and held the bike for me to dismount first. We went to the edge of the clearing and sat down on the ground.

I looked out and took in the breath taking view. In front of us was the Pacific Ocean and surrounding our sides and backs were mountains. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply and slowly let out my breath. The fresh air and peacefulness of our location relaxed me instantly.

"I've never brought anyone up here with me before," I heard her say softly. I glanced at her and saw her eyes fixed out into the horizon. She looked tranquil. "It's just always been my little place where I can go and just...be."

Her statement, although simplistic, conveyed a lot of meaning and I realized that perhaps being the eldest offspring of a rock star and a supermodel may have been too much of a spotlight on her, although one probably couldn't tell that from seeing and meeting her. I knew what it was like to grow up with famous parents. What it was like making sure that whatever you said or did couldn't come back to harm your parents or their reputation. Luckily for me, Grace's modeling career took the spotlight off of me and I was more than happy to disappear from the public eye to a certain extent when I got older and started to live my own life.

"I have an embarrassing admission to make," I confessed and she looked at me and raised her eyebrows, her facial expression soft and encouraging.

"I've been here once before, but by complete accident," I told her. "I had gone out to the store one day and was driving home when I took a wrong turn and got lost. Of course I was too proud to stop and ask for directions, thinking my sense of direction was better than what it really was, and anyway, I somehow ended up here. I would have panicked about being lost, but when I sat and looked out at the ocean, it didn't seem so bad that I was lost. Eventually a passerby gave me directions back to Grace's home. I've been wanting to come back here but I can't remember how for the life of me."

"Well, I'm glad to be of service," she said with a nod of her head and a swing of her arm out towards the view. I couldn't help but smile.

Riley

She smiled a genuine smile of amusement which reached all the way to her bright eyes and made her dimples appear. The breeze blew her long wavy hair across her face and I instinctively reached out and tucked some hair behind her ear. Her smile faded and I saw her eyes quickly flicked from my own eyes down to my mouth and back up. I pulled my hand back. "I'm sorry," I apologized. "It's just an involuntary reaction I have. I know you're straight, so, um, I'm not trying to hit on you or anything like that." I heard myself babble on and forced myself to stop before I made an even bigger fool out of myself.

"Oh, okay, no apology required," she told me and I thought I heard a slight hint of disappointment. "I'm comfortable with you being gay and I'm not going to take every action or statement as flirtation."

"Good," I said, relieved. Wait, but what if I wanted to flirt with her? Would she be oblivious to it? 'No! No flirting with Alex!' I heard Grace's voice in my head scolding me.

"So what brought you out to Califor-nigh-eh?" I asked, trying to change the subject to something more neutral. "Speaking as a native Californian, it may be beautiful here, but it's not exactly London, you know?"

"I needed a change in scenery and Grace was feeling a bit overwhelmed with the divorce," she answered and seemed to hesitate for a moment before she continued, "I had just gotten out of a five year relationship and I suppose I just needed an excuse to sell my flat."

"Too many memories?" I asked, treading lightly. I had no idea what being in an adult relationship was like, much less a five year one, and from what Grace told me, it appeared to have ended badly.

"Yeah," she answered, looking out at the ocean. "It was a blessing in disguise though. I had lost myself in the relationship, so now I'm just going to take my time and just....be." I looked over at her and saw a smile tugging on the corners of her mouth as she echoed my earlier comment.

I offered her a smile in appreciation of her teasing. "I have no idea what it's like to be in a relationship," I admitted and she looked at me as if she was waiting for me to continue with "of five years." When I didn't say anything more, she raised her eyebrows.

"You've never been in a relationship?" she asked, disbelievingly.

"Not unless you count sleeping with the same person for three consecutive weeks in college," I answered. I bit down on my lower lip "I'm a random hookup kind of girl. I'm just not cut out for relationships with women. I love women - it's just that they tend to get too needy for my capabilities. I have enough stress at work as it is so I just wanna take it easy when I'm not there."

"I don't think all women are too needy," she countered and I wondered if she thought I implied she was a needy type..

"I didn't say that all women are needy," I explained and then added, "I haven't slept with all the women in the world so I can't attest to their requirements."

At that, she laughed, asking "How many women have you slept with?"

I sucked on my bottom lip, contemplating my answer. She must have taken my pause as a bad sign because she quickly added, "I'm sorry, that's really none of my business."

"No, I was just trying to do a mental count," I shook it off lightly. "Let's just say I've slept with enough to know I'm not the relationship type."

"You're very adamant about that aren't you?" she asked, looking at me sideways. "The relationship thing."

"I like to be honest," I told her. "I don't make pretenses about what I look for when it comes to women."

"And how's that working out for you?" she asked teasingly.

"Most of the time it works out fine," I admitted. "But every once in a while, someone will be convinced that they can convert me, using the 'you just haven't met the right woman' argument."

"And you don't believe that," she commented.

"I believe there are those who are capable of relationships," I answered. "I'm just not one of them. I don't have that gene that monogamous people have."

"So it's not so much that you don't want to be in a relationship, you just don't want to be stuck with one person," she pointed out.

"That's exactly why I don't do relationships - people who are in them call it being 'stuck'," I teased back. "Let's just say I have a broad appreciation for women and I want to get to know as many of them as I can."

She laughed and shook her head. "You really are your father's daughter aren't you?"

"Life's short," I answered. "You gotta enjoy it while you can."

"You're absolutely right about that one," she concurred and we sat for awhile longer in a companionable silence, enjoying the view. It felt different, spending time with an attractive woman and not actively flirting. We seemed to have a mutual affinity for teasing one another, but in a relaxed and honest way. After the sun had set completely, we headed back to the house.

"Thank you so much," she said, after she dismounted the bike and took off her helmet. I turned off the engine and strapped the extra helmet back onto my bike. Just then, a car pulled up and it was Grace returning from the airport. We helped Grace with her luggage into the house.

"Where have you kids been?" Grace asked lightly but I knew she was taking the situation in any way but light.

"I was helping Kris with her homework and stayed for dinner," I answered, not giving away why I was over at their house in the first place. "Then we just went for a ride up to Malibu."

Alex asked if I wanted to stay for a drink. I was going to accept, but the look on Grace's face made me think better of it so I politely declined.

"You have somewhere else to be?" she teased me again.

"Something like that," I answered and smiled. I had found myself smiling quite a bit in her company.

"Thank you again," she said. "I had a wonderful time."

"You're welcome," I told her.

"I'll walk you out," Grace said and ushered me out the front door, her arm hooked onto mine.

"How was New York?" I asked, intentionally avoiding the lecture I knew was coming.

"New York was busy but it went well," she answered, obviously not interested in sharing any details with me at the moment. "What are you doing with Alex?"

"Nothing," I told her. "We just went for a ride. I'm not trying to flirt with her. I'm not trying to do anything. She's straight. I don't try to convert straight girls, okay? That's not my scene. Especially straight girls who've been hurt recently."

Grace sighed. "I'm sorry, Rye," she said and I could feel the tension slowly leaving her body. "It's just that she's my baby sister and she's been through a lot lately. And I know the affect you have on women, yes, even straight women. I just don't want Alex getting hurt."

I nodded. Grace was right. Despite my honesty with the women I have slept with, I can't honestly say that none of them ever got hurt. Suddenly I found it difficult to say the next words, but I forced myself to say them to Grace. "I promise I'll keep my distance."

"Don't forget," she said. "Kris' birthday party on Saturday."

"I didn't forget," I told her. "I'll knock off early and I'll be there. Joe treating you well?" I asked, referring to the caterer whom I had introduced them to for the party.

"He's wonderful," she answered. "Ride safely."

I nodded and pulled on my helmet and rode off.

I pulled up to the familiar white house shortly after midnight and rang the doorbell. The door opened and Michelle was wearing a spaghetti strap tank top and silk pajama pants.

"You're late," she scolded me in a teacher-like manner. I stepped into the house, closing the door behind me and held out my arms to show her I was wearing my riding gear. "Forgiven," she acquiesced and grabbed me by the jacket and pulled me into a hungry kiss. I dropped my helmet onto the armchair beside the door as she pushed me up against the door, her body pinned against mine.

While our lips and tongues got re-acquainted, she proceeded to strip me of my leather jacket and I cupped her ass with my hands. She started kissing my neck as her hands slid under my shirt. I stopped her hands with my own and instead, stripped her of her shirt and pants, revealing her black lace bra and matching thong. We continued to kiss as I tried guiding her to her couch but we got distracted and ended up on her living room floor.

"You're wearing too many clothes," she told me in between kisses.

"Patience," I told her and began kissing her neck and down her chest. Removing her bra I gently tugged on her right nipple, before paying the left one a little more attention. For my efforts she arched her back, pressing her breasts into my mouth. I rewarded her with a slight bite that made her breathing grow heavy and ragged as she told me, "I need... you...fuck me now!"

It wasn't the first time I'd heard this in my life and I know my cocky grin only fueled her more. I watched as she took off her thong, threw it at me, and positioned herself on her hands and knees on the couch, her ass slightly raised for me to slip between the cushions and where she wanted me. She spread her legs wide and wasted no time grinding herself onto my tongue, setting her own rhythm as she rocked. When she picked up her pace, I slid two fingers inside her, curling them upward as I began to pulse both them and my mouth against her in perfect sync with one another. I felt her start to tighten, her orgasm growing from within, before she began bucking against my face and hand, her mouth screaming out profanities that would surely have earned detention at her school.

Дата добавления: 2015-11-16