Chapter 14 - Nadia

I still struggled to fall asleep even after talking to Braden. Or maybe it was because of Braden. The image of him standing in the doorway stuck in my head, like the after-image from glancing at the sun. Every time I blinked I saw him there, almost nude, the outline of his semi-hard cock obvious in his boxer-briefs.
I closed my eyes and walked through my understudy lines from the show, mumbling them while I tried to relax. But that only reminded me of the sexy scene Braden and I had shared. The pivotal scene in the first act of The Proposition, where the offer is made and we begin to make love on the bed. I imagined him on top of me, smothering me with his chiseled body. Sinking into the place between my legs so I could feel the weight of him against my sex. Soon I was reaching underneath the covers, touching myself while repeating the words from rehearsal like a mantra.
“I don’t know. It’s a lot to consider…”
“What’s there to think about? My offer’s simple. I pay you $10,000 a week to be mine. To do whatever I say in the bedroom.”
“I need time to consider…”
“It’s the money you desperately need. No one has to know. It would be our little secret. Tell me. Tell me it’s what you want.”
“Yes. I’ll do whatever you want.”
“What I want is to bury my cock deep inside you and never pull it out.”
“Yes…”
“I want to fuck you so good you can never have anyone else.”
“Yes…”
“I want to make you mine.”
“Yes!”
I gasped and panted in bed. “Yes, yes, yes,” I whispered as my orgasm struck, coiling my body with tingling convulsions. I arched my back and sighed back into the comfortable mattress.
It had been a while since I’d been able to do that. I was never alone at my apartment in Queens, and I couldn’t even remember the last time a guy had made me come. Most guys I took home from the bar were too sloppy-drunk to focus on making me come, even when I wanted to. Doing it now was like relieving all the tension that had accumulated in my shoulders and back over the past two months.
“This place has paid for itself already,” I whispered into my pillow. I fell quickly asleep after that.
I slept in, which meant waking up at 6:00 instead of 5:00. That extra hour of sleep made all the difference in the world. So did the shower down the hall, which had excellent water pressure and was instantly hot. Much better than waiting 90 seconds for hot water to flow through the pipes in my old apartment.
Ryan’s door was closed, which means he and Andy had gotten home eventually. As I got dressed, I thought about how much I’d enjoyed having some time with just Braden and Dorian last night. It was tough to get to know people when you were in a large group, but two or three was more manageable.
After getting dressed, I went downstairs to the kitchen. There wasn’t a coffee maker out on the counter, and after fishing through the cabinets for a few minutes I began to fear that I was living with four guys who didn’t drink morning coffee.
“Snooping on your first day?”
I whirled from the cabinet to see Andy standing in the living room—no, the front parlor. He had a curious look on his face, like he was trying to decide if he meant the comment as a joke or was serious.
“No!” I quickly said, holding up the red cannister of coffee beans. “I was looking for the coffee machine. I’ve checked every cabinet twice and can’t find anything. But you have beans, so…”
Andy gave me a small smile and slipped past me in the kitchen. He paused next to the stove, which was built into the wall. He pressed a button and a door folded out, revealing a little coffee spigot and tray.
“Are you for real right now?” I said. “It’s built into the wall?”
“It’s easy to operate,” he explained, reaching up into a cabinet to grab me a mug. “Place your mug here, then press the button. It’ll take a few seconds to heat the water, and then it will grind and brew the coffee. There are a lot more settings, but that’s all you really need to know unless you want to make something fancier, like a cappuccino or espresso.”
“You have a machine that magically conjures coffee from the air.”
“Every few days we have to refill the bean container, and empty the spent grounds. It’s a huge pain in the butt.” He smiled again to signal that it was a joke. It was tough to tell with his deadpan delivery.
Right on cue, the water finished heating and the wall made a sound like an electric pencil sharpener. A gargling sound followed, and then coffee began dripping into my mug. Within seconds it was a steady stream.
“This is magic to me,” I said. “I’m used to boiling water on the stove and using a French press.”
“This machine will turn you into a coffee snob,” Andy said. “I can’t even drink Starbucks anymore. Ah, here we go.” He took the coffee mug and handed it to me.
“Thanks,” I said, holding the mug to my lips. There was a thin layer of brown foam on top, and the steam warmed my face. “Okay, I’m officially living here forever.”
“You and me both.” He grabbed another mug and stuck it under the machine to start another cup.
“Long night last night?” I asked while testing the coffee. Still too hot to drink.
Andy sighed and leaned his tall frame against the counter. When he crossed his arms over his chest, they were so long that the elbows stuck out. “Ryan and I went over every piece of equipment in the overhead trusses, checking for loose screws or other… abnormalities.”
I nodded. From his tone, they hadn’t found any, and he didn’t seem like he wanted to talk about it.
“Sorry you’re bunking with Dorian,” I said instead. “I told them I didn’t need my own room, but they were very insistent.”
Andy nodded. “As they should have been. You deserve your own bedroom. I don’t mind Dorian. Better than Ryan. Did you hear him snoring last night?”
“I did not.”
“Then you must be a deep sleeper, because it sounds like a tornado approaching.”
I laughed. “As someone from Iowa, I knew exactly what that sounds like. Guess I’ll have to insist on sleeping alone if he and I ever, well, you know.”
Andy smiled, but it was forced. I winced. Maybe they weren’t in the mood to joke about our arrangement just yet. Or maybe Andy was the jealous type.
“Hey,” he said after a moment. He took off his glasses and began cleaning them with the corner of his button-down shirt. “You don’t have to… That is to say, if you aren’t comfortable with any aspect of…”
“Of the proposition?” I asked with a smile. “Yeah, Braden told me last night that there’s no pressure. I appreciate that, but I’m open to trying it.”
“No pressure,” he repeated. “Expectations like that are not a good foundation for any sort of relationship.”
“I’m glad you see it that way,” I said. “But speaking of expectations, when are you going to take me on a date?”
His cheeks turned every shade of red, and he blinked rapidly as he replaced his glasses and ran a hand through his wavy blond hair. “Um. A date. Yes.”
It was adorable how awkward he was about it. Andy was a very good-looking guy, in a sexy-nerd kind of way. I could imagine him serenading me with long explanations of lighting science and audio frequencies before kissing me goodnight.
“I guess I should say there’s no pressure,” I added when he still fumbled for an answer. “That’s a two-way street, too.”
“No, yeah, right,” he stammered. “Well. Um. Tonight I have a meeting with Director Atkins to discuss the technical budget…”
“What about tomorrow?” I asked. “I have to work at the bar, but we don’t have rehearsal, so we could get dinner beforehand.”
He blinked rapidly again. He had the greenest eyes I’d ever seen in my life. “Dinner. Yes. That sounds nice.”
I stuck my hand out. “Then it’s a date.”
“It’s a date.” His hand enveloped mine as he shook.
Footsteps moved down the stairs, then a sleepy-looking Dorian stepped into the kitchen. He wore long checkered pajamas, and a The Killers concert shirt on top. He mumbled something that might have been “Good morning,” but was butchered halfway through by a huge yawn.
“This is for you,” I said, handing him my coffee mug.
His eyes brightened. “You’re an angel.”
I struck a pose with my arms out. “The angel of caffeine!” His long blond hair was down rather than in a bun, and was as silky-smooth as any Victoria’s Secret model. “Actually, you’re the angel. That hair’s prettier than mine.”
He took it the way I intended: as a compliment. “I try my best. Ready for a morning of fabulous temp work?”
“Just as soon as I make myself a cup of coffee. I can’t get over this coffee machine!”
“Here,” Andy said, handing me his cup. “I’m not in a hurry this morning. It’s cooled enough to drink.”
I sipped the coffee, and then let out a noise like an exaggerated version of last night’s bedroom orgasm. “Holy shit, that’s good. I’ll never be able to go back to a normal machine.”
“Told you.”