“A what?”
“A cougay. An older gay man who dates younger men,” Ashley laughs.
“We are not dating, and I am not a cougay.” I try to prevent my voice from escalating. “Besides, he’s not gay.”
“Whatever.” Ashley begins to push her way through the door and out into the Manhattan streets. “Did you notice he never once looked at my girls?” Ashley adjusts her large breasts spilling out of her corset. “I’ll call you later,” she yells as she struts toward Broadway.
I go back to the table where Quincy is finishing the last of his salmon.
“Sorry about the interruption,” I say, taking my seat.
“No problem.” He flashes his award-winning smile at me. “She sure is a feisty woman. But I’m sure that you know lots of celebrities.”
“It comes with the territory. Besides, Ashley is a good friend of mine.”
“Well, for the record, and so you’ll know, she’s not my type at all. I am not into people who throw themselves at me. I get that all the time at school.”
I nod my head and smile at him.
“I like a smart and mature person.” Quincy grins. “I also like to be the chaser.”
“Well, I am sure there are plenty of young women back at Stanford waiting for you.”
“Naw. I think the person for me is here at home in New York,” he smirks.
With that said he motions for the waiter and asks for the check.
I am impressed.
No, I am floored.
And, did he just say what I think he said?
Are my ears deceiving me?
Quincy is not impressed with Ashley’s overflowing titties or gestures of affection and the stroking of his ego.
This twenty-two-year-old sounds more mature than some thirty-year-old men I know.
“Thank you for the lunch,” he says. “I don’t want to waste too much more of your time. You’re a busy man. Besides, I have the entire summer with you. And, I plan on making the most of it.”
I smile on the inside. My body temperature rises and my heart races. Something in the way he says those soothing words eases into my ears and soul. God, are you trying to tell me something? I whisper.
As we leave the table I notice out the corner of my eye that Quincy has left the piece of paper with Ashley’s number sitting in the remnants of the salmon oil on his plate. I feel the exhilaration of joy rush throughout my body as we walk out of the restaurant and back to the office.
Chapter Nine
I wasn’t in a rush to get home that evening. Entering my condo alone every night is frustrating and aggravating. I really want a man of my own.
A love.
Someone happy to greet me.
Showering me with affection.
Feeling me up and making me feel needed.
Desired.
Wanted.
I walk into my living room and push the remote for the automatic drapes to close. I kick off my Gucci loafers near my brown suede sofa. I toss my leather black briefcase on the coffee table.
I pull out my Apple iPhone and call the local Thai restaurant for delivery.
The Vietnamese woman who answers recognizes my voice.
“Hello, Mr. Kennedy. How you?” she says in her broken English.
“I am good. I want my regular. Thai noodles with extra sauce.”
“No problem,” she says. “Twenty minutes.”
I enter my bedroom and remove my Tag Heuer watch. I place it on the night stand next to my alarm clock.
I sit on the edge of my king-sized bed. Why did I get this huge ass bed? It’s perfect when there is someone in it, but no one has been lying next to me except my goose-down-filled pillows.
I slowly take off my pants and shirt. I sigh as I sit wondering when my life will change. I keep wondering when my good life will begin.
My life in a happy and fun-filled relationship.
I refuse to grow another day.
Another year.
Before the gray hairs start sprouting.
Without someone.
And, I definitely am not interested in a dog.
A cat.
Or, anything non-human replacing my loneliness.
I go inside my walk-in closet and over to my oak dresser. I pull out a pair of gray sweat pants and a wife-beater. As I turn to walk out I catch a glimpse of my nude body in the full-length mirror. I stare at my reflection.
Not too bad.
For a thirty-eight-year-old.
I flex my chest.
Biceps.
I can give any twenty-something a run for his money.
Quincy.
Well, that’s another matter.
I saw his hard muscular body beneath his fitted khaki slacks and his yellow polo shirt.
He wore his clothes.
They didn’t wear him.
Every muscle protruding.
Big here.
Firm there.
Tight everywhere.
I even hear some of the younger girls gasp when he walks by their desks.
Then I hear Ashley’s voice. He’s gay. He didn’t even notice my girls.
Was he flirting when he said he performs well, he is a fast learner, he takes direction?
I know I became aroused when he said it. As I am now just thinking about him.
My mind floods with thoughts of Quincy.
His tall, toned body.
Bass-filled voice.
Hearty laugh.
Huge hands.
He seems to have all the perfect qualities I like and need in a man. I would love to be with him.
Right now.
I imagine him touching me.
My dick grows heavier.
Longer.
Harder.
I walk over and climb onto the bed.
I run my hands over my chest.
Pinching my nipples.
I caress my stomach.
I can feel Quincy lying next to me. I fit perfectly inside his strong arms. I find myself touching my erection wishing they were Quincy’s strong hands gripping and pulling my dick.
I gyrate, wanting to experience his body on top of mines.
I slowly stroke myself.
From shaft to head.
Winding my right hand.
Round and round.
Then up and down.
I’m eager to explode and let the warm juices splash on my hot, intense body.
Quincy’s