18 - Two to Tango

“Nice shower,” Jon complimented, wearing nothing more than a yellow towel slung around his hips.  He pushed a hand through his wet hair, a relaxed grin etching parenthesis in his cheeks.  No matter what lines creased his face, or how many of those infamous chest hairs were gray, he was still beyond hot.

Ten minutes.  It’s only been ten minutes and I could do him all over again.  No fifty-year-old has a right to be that sexy.

After recuperating some level of functionality from her latest Jongasm, Sheridan left Jon in the shower.  This gave him the chance to actually shower while she slipped on her robe and went downstairs to get coffee for him.

“I like it.” 

Seeing as he was finished in the bathroom, she directed her footsteps that way to do her hair and makeup.  As she passed, Sheridan paused next to him, saying, “There’s a cup of coffee for you on the bedside table.  I hope black is okay.  You don’t seem the type to like amaretto cream.”

“Black’s fine.”  He leisurely wrapped his fingers around her wrist and tugged, bending to brush a feather-light kiss over her lips.  “Good morning, by the way.”

“Back at you,” she returned with a smile, before slipping free.  “I’m going to dry my hair.  Make yourself at home.”

The grin that wanted to swallow her face was kept under control until she flicked the power switch on the hairdryer.  As streams of hot air whooshed out and evaporated the moisture in her hair, she grinned at her reflection in the mirror like a fool. 

Sex with him was good.  Beyond good.  It was toe-curling fantastic, rivaled only by her favorite dessert after a month of dieting.  She had been a very good girl in another life to deserve that kind of sex with any man, much less a gorgeous rock star. 

Humming contentedly, she directed the heated air through each wet clump of hair until it was flowing in smooth waves.  She cut the power on the dryer and carefully finger-combed the tresses and then pulled into a low ponytail at the nape of her neck.  A few swipes of makeup had her face ready for the day. 

Lately, Sheridan had gotten into the habit of sleeping later.  It had been weeks since she was up before the sun to primp for a foray into the concrete jungle, but she had an early business meeting this morning.  It wasn’t so much business for her as it was the man she was meeting, but she was offering her professional opinion, so she was regarding it as a business appointment.

Except that I’m not wearing a suit today.  Or cotton underwear.

For her entire career, she rose each morning and selected from her array of understated, conservative professional wear  - skirt suits, pant suits, blazers, blouses.  It was a look she liked and was comfortable in, down to the white cotton bikini panties and simple matching bras.  Today though…  She wasn’t going to wear any of it.  Considering it a silent rebellion against her formerly repressed life, she planned to wear jeans and a soft sweater.  Still chic and obvious that she had made an effort to dress for the occasion, but not as Business Sheridan.

And she wouldn’t feel like Business Sheridan on the underside either, dressed in another of her new lingerie sets.  Red lace today, she thought, with the demi-cup underwire that shelved her impressive chest to its best angle, and the matching ‘boy’ panties that she’d never tried.  They looked comfortable and sexy.

I really am a sex kitten under it all, she thought with a silent laugh.  That realization was one more thing she had to thank Jon for.

Jon sipped the outrageously good coffee, one leg curled under him as he reclined against the bed’s pillows dressed in nothing more than his jeans from last night.  She sure as hell made a better cup of coffee than he did.  Maybe he should ask how she did that.

Nah.  It gives me a reason to go out for coffee instead of making it myself.

The whirr of the hairdryer had gone silent, cuing him that it was time to start mentally scripting his goodbye. 

Jon found himself in an awkward position.  It was weird to be so ambivalent about ending this little fling.  Usually he would have been out the door before she left the shower, with no more than an “It’s been fun, baby, but I’ve gotta meeting this morning.  I’ll call you sometime.” 

That was if he even bothered to spend the night.  He was a regular fucking Hallmark when it came to middle-of-the-night “it’s been fun” notes.  Not in the fact that they were overly sentimental, but that they should be mass-produced.

This time, he wasn’t all that anxious to go, but he also wasn’t in the market for an actual relationship.  Sure, his divorce had been emotionally finalized some time ago, but the ink had only been drying on the paperwork for eight months.  Answering to someone new about his work schedule and social calendar was not appealing, even if he did go stag to those events more often than he preferred. 

If you’re honest, having someone else answer to you does sound appealing, though.

Sheridan had him pegged last night when she called him a control freak.  Calling the shots was what he did best and he was at a loss when that wasn’t his role.  It should make him nuts that she wasn’t willing to bend to his every whim, but in the case of Ms. King, it did make the limited control he had all the sweeter.

She’ll prob’ly try and pussy whip you inside the first week.  Walk away while you’re both satisfied and smiling.

On cue, she sauntered into the room with the edges of her mouth curled into pleased smile. 

Jon settled back, content not to make a move until he watched her dress.  He’d seen Lois Lane turn into Kitten, but he was admittedly curious about the reverse process.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” she apologized from within the depths of her closet.  “There’s an odd morning meeting on my schedule today or I would offer to fix you breakfast.”

“No problem.”  A quick check of the clock confirmed that it was just before eight.  “I’m usually up by now anyway.  Good coffee, by the way.”

Her head popped out of the walk-in, her face bathed with pleasure.  “Good, isn’t it?  I order it from Hawaii.  Even better than Keurig.” 

Not waiting for a response, she ducked back in and he heard the immediate rustle of hangers and clothing.  It wasn’t a second later before she reappeared with jeans and a sweater draped over her arm, and black boots dangling from her fingers.

“I’m surprised you don’t have meetings this morning,” she commented, laying her clothes out on the bed and going to the dark, chunky dresser against the wall.  “I always had the impression that you kept yourself over-busy.”

“One workaholic recognizes another, huh?”

She reciprocated his chuckle with an amused, “Something like that,” as she withdrew a couple scraps of red lace from the top drawer.

 Jon could swear he heard a cat hiss and spit as she clipped the tags from them.

“I try to keep it limited this close to the holidays,” he commented absently, enamored with the sleek line of her now-bare back that flared out to her rounded rump.  The array of purple smudges across her shoulder blades made his chest puff out with satisfaction.  “This weekend I’ve got my kids, and they always keep me busy.”

“Mm.”  Her ass wiggled enticingly as she stepped into the skimpy panties.  “I bet they do.  If they’re anything like you, they are a handful.”

The matching bra cupped her breasts, pushing them prominently together and making for a hell of a display.  He was distracted enough to forget what they were talking about for a long minute – until she zipped her jeans and turned with a questioning frown on her face.

“Uh, yeah.”  Jon forced his gaze to her face.  “My younger two have a lot of energy. When it gets too bad I turn them loose in the park, or take them to one of those inflatable places so they can work it off.”

Seeing as she was now fully dressed, he figured he should get off his perverted ass and get out of there.  While she laughed at the thought of his ‘wild’ children, Jon grabbed his shirt, jerking it over his head and cramming his arms through the sleeves in one continuous motion. 

“Do they let you in the inflatables?”

“Cute, Ms. King.  No, they don’t let me in the inflatables.  It doesn’t matter how much I beg.”

Looking up from putting his second shoe on, he found that the sex kitten had, indeed, morphed into Lois Lane.  Black and red striped cashmere turtleneck, black jeans and boots with her sedate ponytail, diamond studs and matching necklace all gave the appearance of a PTA mom/personal assistant.  She was definitely not the same woman who fucked him like a wildcat for the last two nights. 

He liked knowing that little secret about her.

Speaking of secrets…

“Suzanne was surprised to see us together.  She doesn’t know we slept together?”

Frowning, she reached into a jewelry armoire for a diamond and ruby tennis bracelet.  “No.  I told you I keep my sex life in the bedroom.  Did you want me to brag on you?”

“Hell, no,” he snorted, running rough hands through his hair and pushing his cellphone, unchecked, into his pocket.  “I thought it was a code among women to share every orgasm.”

“Not this woman.”  Bracelet fastened, she regarded him with suspiciously narrowed eyes.  “Have you told your best friend that you’ve gotten laid the last two nights?”

“Of course not.”  Not the last two nights.  Just Thursday night, and only in the vaguest of details.  “But he does know about Jamaica.”

She stepped into the closet again, this time coming out with a black leather jacket that was similar to the one he was waiting for him downstairs. 

“I suppose he would,” she conceded, tugging her hair from the jacket’s collar and swishing the ponytail over her back until it settled where she wanted it.  “The new notch in your bedpost probably alerted him.”

“That’s it exactly,” he teased, following her out of the bedroom and downstairs.  Seeing the place in the daylight, he appreciated the openness and glossy wooden floors.  The room was full of sunlight, now that it was high enough in the sky to light the city.

He put his empty mug in the sink and circled around the island to where his jacket hung on the back of the dining chair.  Slipping it on, he joined her at the front door, where she had looped a small handbag onto her shoulder.

“Sheridan.”  He looked down into her clear, unshuttered eyes and lifted a thumb to stroke along her cheek.  “These last two nights have been amazing.   Thank you.”

She smiled automatically, but this time it didn’t quite reach her eyes.  His belief that she was an intelligent woman was validated.  She knew what he was doing.

“I should be the one thanking you.”  Pushing up on her toes, she bussed his cheek with a quick kiss.  “It was a memorable birthday.  I might even have to notch my own bedpost to commemorate it.  Now I have to get running or I’ll be late.  Have a good weekend with your kids, and take care.”

Jon denied the slightly unsettled feeling in his stomach, even though this was going exactly as he hoped.  “I will.  You take care too, and have a good meeting.” 

The lure of one last kiss was too much to resist, and he dipped his mouth to hers for a fond goodbye, but she stepped back the instant their lips met.

“Thank you,” she murmured, shifting her purse strap higher onto her shoulder.  “I have to go.”

“I’ll ride down with you.”

The trip out of the building was a quiet one, with nothing more uttered from either of them than a simple request for the doorman.  Each gave a silent wave as they ducked into separate taxis toward their separate lives.