Dante Street Massacre were slated, as Seth the Great and Powerful had proclaimed once I’d gotten into work, and I had to finish mixing By Newton’s Britches! by the time they appeared in droves.
The Sanctuary stood alone, most of the city barely awake yet, let alone to the stretch of existence most people knew as the morning commute. The lights came unto the world, and I hoped there would be room for all of us here once the band arrived.
I could understand it from a creative perspective. The more members, the bigger the sound, at least on paper. Alas, recording wasn’t done on paper and the more members, and egos, there were, the bigger the headache for me.
Deep in my mind, a lovely mountain valley with a river was winding through as I prepared for the rest of the day. I ignored appearances by Claudia in my headspace, as welcome as they were. I would need to see her again, but work was first.
Feet on the ground and mind on the job, I pulled up the tracks from Theo’s session. To his credit there wasn’t much to do, but I would still feel better once it was finished. DSM wasn’t supposed to come in until after lunch.
With blood, sweat, and tears spent as liberally as pennies, things took shape, from good to great. Awards and applause were dancing in the distance, final facts proved on playback.
The ghost of a smile was haunting my mouth, a sudden crack to the façade. The general consensus, even among my family, was that paramedics would be needed if I did any more than smirk.
With my duties freed, at least for the moment, I wound things down until after lunch, heading out into the fresh for the second day in a row.
The timing was right, fortune smiled, and Claudia and I met in the middle, by the fountain in the forecourt. No one could really say anything, not with how Seth and Jonna had gotten together and with all the rumors about me and other girls who had worked at the office before, but it was still best to avoid unpleasantness, at least at the beginning, for Claudia’s sake more than mine.
I knew what people thought of me, and didn’t mind, mostly because much of it was true. Claudia had barely had time to finalize her personality, though. The last thing she needed was further scrutiny.
The age difference between us was a consideration, although it was one that I soon dismissed, with ten years hardly being a scandal and both of us on the legal side of 18. I had a bit more experience with my 31 years of living than she did with her 21, but I could only see that as being a good thing.
“Hello,” I told her, happy to see her again.
“Hi,” she said, smiling as though she felt the same.
“Lunch?”
“Okay.”
Hand in hand we went to my car, bursting into the distance, far from the high-rises, in a wake of toxic gray.
“Amy’s?” she suggested.
“Sure. The only thing I’ve had there is the pie but I think it was the best in the state. Well, second best.”
Her cheeks hued crimson as I stroked her thigh.
“What’s good?” I asked her, perusing the hand printed menus in the self-consciously authentic artisan diner.
“The grilled cheese is awesome, as is the mac and cheese. To the chicken, beef, and pork I cannot attest.”
“Fish?” I inquired.
“Best not, aside from the tuna melt.”
“You really like cheese.”
“Only when melted.”
The food was fast and delicious, just like the sign out front had advertised, and we still had over half an hour before real life kicked back in.
That was more than enough time for us to do what I wanted to do to her.
“There are bathrooms in the back, unisex and with locks on the door. Go into one and leave the door unlocked,” I instructed her. “Sit down and wait for me.”
“Yes, Sir.”
As casually as possible, Claudia did as I asked, her sweet ass swaying beneath the sexy skirt. I pulled myself back, making patience rule.
With enough of a gap between her departure and mine, I slipped in through the door which was still indicating green. As I fastened the clack, the door secured, leaving us alone to the side of the maddening crowd.
Without a word being said, I stood her up and bent her over the sink, both her hands flat on the counter at the front so she could see us on the mirror.
“Look,” I whispered, aware of the echo.
She did, her expression one of raw emotion, which radiated excitement. Turning up her skirt, I squeezed her ass, a new kind of calm reflected in the mounted glass.
“Whose are you?” I asked her.
“I’m yours.”
“All of you? Including your ass?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Say it.”
“My ass is yours, Sir.”
Her responses were getting faster, even more natural. It was right that I reward her, even if she wouldn’t necessarily see it that way.