7 - View To a Thrill

“Hi,” he greeted with a warm smile.

Or at least Petey thought he smiled.  She may have caught a flash of white teeth out of the corner of her eye.  It wasn’t something she’d swear to, though, since her attention was locked on his very sweaty, very bare, very sexy chest. 

Holy shit…

The hair that blanketed his well-defined muscles from collarbone to waistband – and beyond – was glistening with beads of perspiration.  That same perspiration was sliding down the skin that lay beneath the softly curling hair.  His nipples were at attention, courtesy of the cool air against his heated body…

We the people of the United States, in order to form a more perfect…  Dammit! That isn’t helping.

“Hi.”

Her eyes were green today, Jon noted.  Emerald green.  For some reason it didn’t strike him the least bit unusual.  Nor did the fact that she was dressed head-to-toe in black, hair divided into two black braids.  After meeting her just the one time, he would’ve been surprised had she not been a poster child for darkness.  Maybe it was his dream giving him a new perspective, but it worked for her. 

Under the now familiar leather jacket, a fitted baby-doll tee hugged her torso almost as tightly as the black leggings she wore with knee-high Chucks.  The only splash of color was a pink, cartoony rabbit on her shirt, which was trussed up in a strait jacket.  Underneath, the caption read “Cute But Psycho.”

“Is that my fair warning?” he asked dryly, nodding toward the shirt.

“Maybe.”

The last week hadn’t softened her attitude toward him any.  Mentally steeling his spine, Jon corralled his own Jersey attitude in favor of a little Sambora-style charm.  After all, his brotha had managed to get on her good side.  Jon was capable of taking a lesson when the situation called for it.

“It’s cute.  Come on in.”

She nodded once and surveyed his stance expectantly, waiting for him to step aside.

Jon moved, but not nearly far enough out of the way.  She was going to have to squeeze by him to get into the apartment, Petey realized.  There was no way in hell she was going risk brushing up against his bare chest.

Petey gestured for him to go before her.  “I’ll follow you.  That way you can show me what you want me to do and where you want me to do it.”

Oh little girl, if you knew what those words summoned up in my sex-deprived brain, you would never have thought them, much less said them out loud.  Thank God for the foresight to burn the treadmill up before you got here.

Stifling his smirk, he wordlessly turned, assuming she would follow.

And Petey vowed that she would follow – as soon as she could stop staring at the way his back muscles rippled under that sheen of sweat as he walked.

Give me liberty or give me death…

“Sorry about the way I look,” he tossed over his shoulder, perhaps tongue-in-cheek?  She couldn’t be sure.  “I got in the zone and my run went longer than I meant.”

“Yeah.  I know how that can happen.” 

“Oh?”  He paused, turning toward her with a curious look.  “You run?”

“Sometimes more than others, but yes.” 

Sometimes non-stop for what feels like days because something screws with your head.

“That explains the great tone to your legs.”  The black leggings she wore hid nothing, clinging to every curve and muscle from waist to knee-high tennis shoe.  He was looking forward to checking out the view from behind…

“I guess.  So… wiring?”

Nodding, he silently resumed the trek to his bedroom, scaling the open staircase to the upper level of the penthouse.  Jon was no longer sure how smart this was.  Having Petey in his bedroom was liable to be a serious test of his self-control, but there was nothing to be done about it.  He’d committed to this before he started having erotic dreams about her. 

Pushing the thought to the back of his mind, they topped the staircase and he gestured to the right.  “That’s the upstairs living area and the main terrace.  The terrace straight ahead is officially the dining terrace, I think, and the master suite is over here,” he guided to the left.  “That’s where the most recent bane of my existence lives.  I can show you, then I’ll get a shower while you’re working.  If you’re interested in the full tour, I’d be happy to show you around after I’m a little more groomed for company.”

She refused to allow his casual mention of a shower to overtake her mind, bringing with it a host of easily conjured visual images.  Instead of fixating on his wet, naked body, she let the New York skyline draw her in.  The Empire State Building was right there in the distance, and if she looked toward the Village, she could no doubt pick out her brownstone walk-up. 

Despite her appearance, Petey was no stranger to opulence, having been in her fair share of upscale residences.  But this wasn’t so much opulent as…  breathtaking.  She tried to bring her widened eyes back to a more normal size, nonchalantly saying, “Sure, why not?”

Irises that were cobalt blue today locked onto her green contacts, secret amusement dancing in their depths.  Damn him.  Jon knew that she was impressed with the walls of glass that surrounded this upper level and the spectacular view of the city that they offered.  But to his credit, he didn’t take that as an invitation to be arrogant. 

He merely offered a silent sweep of his hand, inviting her to precede him down the short, narrow corridor.  She hesitated only briefly before accepting the invitation, feeling much like the fly being invited into the spider’s parlor.

Petey would be surprised to know that Jon’s thoughts weren’t nearly that predatory.  He was simply feeling smug.

Well, well… I’ve got something that impresses the Ice Queen of Darkness. 

The sweet scent of sugar floated along behind her as she strolled into his study, finally giving Jon the view he’d been waiting for.  The leggings that clung so lovingly to her legs looked even more spectacular from behind, pulled taut across her backside. 

Maybe as much as that impresses me.

“This is the study,” Jon offered carelessly, upon entering the masculine domain.  A huge leather office chair was positioned behind a rich, cherry desk and bookcases lined the far wall.  Family photos and football memorabilia were scattered throughout the bookcases and adjoining seating area, lending an air of intimacy to the formal setting.   Oddly, Petey thought, the room’s only musical representation was a baby grand piano that commanded a good portion of floor space to their left. 

Jon pointed toward the doorway on the opposite side of the room.  “Our destination is right through there.  The bathroom is to the left, closet dead ahead, and bedroom is on the right.  We’re headed for the bedroom.”

Her stomach, and parts slightly south, tightened in reaction to the innocently spoken words.  Never in her life could she recall having such a visceral reaction to a man.  In fact, her most recent boyfriend had flatly informed her that she was either frigid or a lesbian. 

More proof that he was a stupid ass.

Disciplining herself to focus on the task at hand, she entered the bedroom and promptly scanned it for any electronics. 

“You won’t find what you’re looking for without that.”  He nodded toward the remote control on the night stand.  “It opens the wood panel that’s opposite the bed.  Inside is an assortment of gadgets that confuse the hell out of me.”  His sheepish grin was almost endearing,  as he’d, no doubt, planned for it to be.  “If you could idiot-proof like you did the living room, I’d really appreciate it.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem.”

Jon laughed.  “If it’s anything like last time, you’ll be done with it before I finish my shower.  If you are, feel free to check out the bedroom terrace.  It’s got a nice view.”

Visually following his silent gesture, Petey could see yet another flagstone terrace flowing from a wall of glass and acting as a bridge to the New York skyline.

She nodded silently.

“Okay.  So unless you need anything…?”

“I’m good.”

“Great.  I’ll just be a few minutes.”

With that, he turned on his heel and was gone.  Petey heard him pause to rummage in the closet for a minute, then footsteps on the hardwood floor.  At last, there was a definitive click, indicating he’d closed himself in the bathroom.

“Holy shit,” she mumbled to herself, allowing herself two seconds to assess the huge bed butted up against yet another glass wall.  Its host of throw pillows, grey suede comforter and black sheets immediately burned themselves into her memory.  “Get it fixed and get out, Petey.  This man doesn’t like you and he does fucked-up things to your libido.  No good can come of this.”

A few quick strides had the remote in her hand, and she intuitively began poking away at the buttons with little or no thought.  Somebody at some point had called her a savant.  Devices like this remote control were a natural extension of her, and she instinctively knew what combination would give her what she was looking for. 

This fairly streamlined model was no different.  The wooden panel slid obediently open and, as promised, revealed a plasma screen TV that was huge by most people’s standards, but not compared to the one in his living room.  Also tucked in the cubby hole were an impressive stereo system, satellite control box, and Blue-Ray player. 

None of which would be a problem, except for the fact that the satellite control box and one of the speakers were mounted above the television – a good eight feet off the ground.  Considering she was only five-three and the room was understandably free of ladders, this was going to be a problem. 

Petey saw no choice but to retrace her steps, venturing back to the lower level of the apartment.  Surely there would be a utility room in the vicinity of the kitchen.  The man had millions of dollars.  A stepladder shouldn’t be an unreasonable expectation.

I’ll just have to rummage around and see if I can find one.

                                        ☠ ☢ ☠

The warm water rolled down Jon’s back along with the diluted soap suds as his mind tried to formulate a plan.

Okay, Jonny Boy.  What is it you hope to achieve here today?

He was fairly certain if he didn’t come out of the shower with a game plan, she would be gone as soon as the last cord was fastened in place.  That meant the primary objective was convincing her to hang around for a while.  Get her comfortable enough that she would talk to him.  Jon didn’t even particularly care what she said, believing that anything would shine some kind of light on the paradox that was Petey.

There was the tour of the apartment, but there were only so many views of New York City.  The novelty could wear off quickly, particularly if she were a native New Yorker.  It would do to start, but there had to be something else.

Ah.  He would make sure to let her know he’d talked to Tony about that job recommendation.  That would take all of thirty seconds. 

There was the far-fetched possibility that she could be so grateful that she’d fall at his feet and tell him everything he wanted to know. 

He snorted into the water that flowed over his face.  Not fucking likely. 

Plan B?

It was Sunday.  She liked the Steelers.  The most obvious route would be to get her talking about football and see if there were any other teams she was interested in.   Did her litany of statistics extend only to the Pittsburgh franchise, or did she have that kind of info stored away for other teams?  Providing that she showed an interest, he, of course, would offer up his obnoxiously large plasma TV as an enticement to stay, along with whatever game was being broadcast.

It should be foolproof.

Which meant he would need to employ Plan C, taking a chapter from Get the Girl 101.  Liquor.

If the need arose, he wasn’t above getting her a little drunk in order to loosen her tongue.  ‘Course, the wild card she was, Petey would end up being a mean drunk and would, with no provocation whatsoever, beat the shit out of him with her itty-bitty fists.

Jon slapped the shower control handle into the off position with a thunk.

If he came out of this without needing a shrink, he would consider it a victory.