Appeal Denied

2015-NYC-05 Move to Strike

June 12, 2015

"I really like you, Van," he whispered, his arms around my naked body as we lay on top of my bed in the wee hours of the morning. I think they're called the "wee hours" because that's when I usually have to get up to pee.

But not that night. Being wrapped in a cuddle with Harry was nearly as good as an orgasm with him buried deep inside. The warmth from his body seeped into mine, and the bedroom was as steamy as a terrarium. I rested my chin on the hairy (and Harry) forearm that was enveloping me.

"You mean you like fucking me?" I inquired without guile. "Cause the truth is that you don't really know me."

He tensed, and the pause that followed stretched like a rubber band. I wondered if it would snap back and smack me with a sting that couldn't be soothed.

"Yes. That's accurate," he finally breathed out, and I felt his muscles relax with the words. "Hopefully you don't really know me either, as I've labored these last months with keeping more of me hidden from the public."

Wriggling, I turned to face him. Kissing him deeply, I pulled his lip between my teeth. "I'm not a fangirl, Harry. Honestly, I haven't read much about you since maybe early February, although I did think of you when I heard that Zayn had left. Other than that, life got in the way, and you dropped off my radar."

Sagely, he nodded, his hawkish green eyes flitting about my face. "I think that's one of the things I appreciate most about you, Brains. My fame doesn't faze you. When you left the restaurant, you didn't expect to see me again, did you?"

Ignoring the knife that twisted in my gut at the memory of his ghostly gaze, I smiled, "Harry, I didn't expect to see you again after the last two times, and I have zero plans for a reunion after tonight. You scratched an itch, and I am grateful." The words on their own were cold, and I hoped he wouldn't take them that way, especially with the compassion and tenderness I attempted to infuse into my tone.

A cloud crossed his features then, and I cringed. Surely he didn't think we had some sort of future? "No offense, Butterfly Boy, but I'm not looking for a long-term relationship with anyone right now. Especially not a celebrity. My career is my focus right now."

"What a coincidence!" he waggled his eyebrows with enthusiasm. "Same! What are your career goals, Brains?"

Lying on my back, I stared at the ceiling. I'd naturally thought about the question a lot over the years. But to share it with Harry seemed more intimate than his tongue tasting my lady bits.

"I want to make partner," I stated. "I've already moved from junior associate to associate, and that's quality advancement for one year at the firm. I want to represent people like you who don't really have time to study the law and make sure their best interests are being met. For me, it's not about the money as much as it is about security and the fun of learning. There are constantly new legal decisions being made that shift the dynamics and outcome of any given situation. Continuous learning is powerful for me. The fact that I get to work at MPP and do what I love is a huge reward for my hard work in college."

"How long does it take to become partner?" Harry had turned on his side and was watching my face as his finger traced patterns above my breast.

Blowing out a stream of air, I shook my head. "Could be anywhere as early as five years if I distinguish myself, or as long as ten years if I'm just ordinary."

"Something tells me you're not ordinary," he whispered as he pressed a soft kiss to my shoulder.

"What about you?"

He squirmed a bit then, his gaze wandering away from me, lost somewhere else. "I am most definitely not ordinary," he joked. At my raised eyebrow, he laughed, then continued, "I love the band. It's been a good training ground for me. But since Zayn left, I've felt this growing longing to make my own music."