Cupid's Project

"Wow," I smiled, "that's a good look for you."

His eyes slid over me at the same time, taking in the absence of the bulky sweatshirt and my unrestrained breasts in my tank top, which had crept up just a little to show the curve of my waist above my low rise jeans. "You too, babe. You too," he commented before leaning forward and kissing me again, sending tingles up my spine as his fingers threaded through my long, dark hair.

"Well, you want to come in?" I asked breathlessly as he lifted his lips from mine.

"Nope. I just said I'd come see you. I've done that, time to be off," he said, with a look of mock seriousness so perfectly executed that I feared he might really mean it.

"Your parents waiting in the car?" I joked, trying to peer around him out to the driveway.

"Hardly. All right, already, I'll come in your stinking house -- but no funny business, you hear?" This time his look communicated that he meant anything but what he was saying.

He followed me into the living room, made a comment about the greatness of Chuck Palahniuk and then he was kissing me again. His breath on my neck, his fingers in my hair, my hands pulling him closer -- we made out like teenagers for nearly an hour. I couldn't remember the last time I'd kissed someone like that and not fucked them. Every time I tried to remove clothing- his or mine- he stopped me with an even deeper kiss. If I hadn't been so turned on and lost in the feel of his chest supporting me as I sat on his lap, I'd have been unbelievably confused. I wanted to ask him what the deal was, but I didn't want to stop kissing him long enough to get the words out. It was one of the hottest hours of my life -- and then he went home.

I wasn't even sure what to make of the evening, but my dreams that night were full of him, his smell, his taste, the way his muscles contracted reflexively when I touched him. I dreamt of us fucking on my couch, where we'd made out and then in my bed, out in my pool, even on my kitchen floor. When I woke up, I was so wet, it seemed a shame he wasn't there to reap the benefits. Though I fucked myself to an orgasm with another one of my favorite dildos, I still couldn't get him out of my head.

Friday I called to see if he wanted to have lunch with me. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had to pursue a guy, let alone one I'd already propositioned and yet I was enjoying the chase -- as long as it didn't last too long. With any luck, I'd convince him to spend the weekend trapped inside my room, possibly with the help of a pair of handcuffs.

My morning was incredibly busy and had it not been for the alarm I'd set on my Blackberry, I might have missed lunch altogether. Silencing the alarm, I tried to find a way to interrupt one of my favorite clients.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Beyer. I really do have to go," I said apologetically to the older woman who'd been telling me stories about her son's appendectomy, "I have a lunch meeting and if I don't leave now, I'll be inexcusably late."

"It's quite all right dear, I appreciate you listening to my stories. If only my David wasn't already married, I'd introduce you two. You're much too pretty to be single and you'd give me very pretty grandbabies."

Trying not to cringe, I signaled for my assistant, Jessica, to come and distract Mrs. Beyer. Despite the pouring rain and Mrs. Beyer's attempts to continue engaging me in conversation, I arrived at the sushi restaurant on time. Checking my makeup in the vanity mirror, I reapplied my lipstick and then carefully opened my car door and umbrella to keep from getting soaked on my way in.

Cameron was already there and he looked incredible, this time in a well-tailored suit. Between bites of spicy tuna and yellow tail, we discussed favorite concerts and who we would resurrect from the dead to see play live.

"Kurt Cobain? Seriously?! Over Johnny Cash or Freddy Mercury from Queen? God, what about John Lenon?" he asked incredulously.

"Nirvana was my favorite band ever and of course, my parents wouldn't let me go to their show, even though all my friends were going. I'm honestly not sure how I've survived. That's my story and I'm sticking to it!" I said obstinately.

While I'd had friends, even male friends, who I could talk to this way, I'd never found that combined with someone I was so sexually attracted to. I found myself torn between the desire to rip off his clothes and wanting to know everything about him. The cynical part of my brain warned me that my fondness for him was chipping away at my emotional reserve, but he was just so fun to be with, it was hard to care.

I'd gotten so used to silent meals with Bryan near the end of our marriage, that I'd forgotten how great it could be to just sit and talk with a man. Though we didn't share the same point of view on everything, the air of competition was missing. His teasing was good natured and I loved the crooked smile he gave me when he found something I'd said ridiculous.

The conversation turned serious for a bit when he mentioned seeing U2 in concert with his ex-wife.

"Brooke and I got married when we were 23. Looking back now, I know that we were way too young, but at that age, no one can tell you anything, right?"

"How long were you married?" I asked, suddenly curious to know all the details, though I wouldn't relish sharing mine.

"Almost seven years. To be honest, I'm surprised we held it together that long. She wanted a family and I... well, I didn't know what I wanted. She got re-married a couple of years ago and our mutual friends say that she's happy."

"So you've been divorced about six years then? Bryan and I got divorced two years ago and were only married for three. I'd say that the whole experience destroyed my faith in love, but the truth is, I never put much stock in it in the first place. Do you ever want to get married again?" I asked idly, swirling more wasabi into my soy sauce.

"Yeah, probably. I mean, I'm only 36. Besides, I think I'm older and wiser now. I have a much better idea of what it takes to make it work," Cameron smiled, "or at least I hope I do. You?"

"The jury's still out, but I do know I wouldn't do it any time soon. Hell, I don't even want to be in a serious relationship. I really like my freedom," I answered honestly.

"Well there's a telling statement," Cameron laughed, "but enough of this serious stuff... What's your favorite guilty pleasure tv show? Please don't say Jersey Shore, I like you too much to have to walk out on you."

I appreciated the change of topic. "Actually, I'm totally addicted to those I Love the 90s shows on VH1," I admitted.

"Don't feel guilty about that, those are priceless. I love the 90s!" Cameron sang in an imitation of the theme song, "The 90s covered the end of high school and college for me. Watching those shows are almost like a class reunion -- without that kid who used to flick his boogers at the wall."

When our lunch started to round out its second hour, I announced that I needed to get back to work. "This was fun. We should hang out this weekend," I offered, enjoying the image my imagination conjured up.

"Sorry, Princess, I've got a soccer tournament this weekend. Coach says no girls -- too distracting," Cameron smiled, "but I'll text you if I'm ever on the bench."

"Lucky me," I retorted, "Wait, what about my roof? The rain's supposed to stop by tomorrow."

"I'll leave that to Roc. You'll just have to think of a better excuse to spend time with me."

"I can think of plenty, but no girls, right?"

"Not this weekend."

I groaned and he laughed before he kissed me goodbye. I was starting to wonder if the man was just a gigantic pussy tease or if he had no idea that when he kissed me, I envisioned several pages of the Kama Sutra that I'd like to try out with him. Was it possible that he believed that women didn't think about sex as much as men? I vaguely remembered a nun trying to tell me that in high school and I'd laughed for weeks about it.

When I got back to work, I had a message waiting on the office voicemail, "Olivia, this is Rocco. The rain is supposed to let up this weekend, so I was thinking that I could start repairs on your roof on Monday. Give me a call and let me know what you want to do."

I wasn't sure if Cameron had called him after lunch or if he'd taken it upon himself, but I was happy that he didn't sound like such a jerk this time. Maybe he was cheered by the prospect of actually getting to meet me.

I called and arranged for Rocco to come over on Sunday, so that I could provide him with keys to the house and he could do the repairs while I was at work. Even though Saturday is a normal day off for office types, it was usually a busy day for me and that one was no exception. By Sunday, I was ready to just relax and put zero effort into anything.

The infamous Rocco showed up at my house around four, dressed like he was headed to the gym. I tried not to stare at his bulging biceps but I couldn't help envisioning him bench pressing the 275 pounds he mentioned. That was barely more than twice what I weighed so I was pretty sure he could manage some pretty interesting positions with me.

"So how old are you anyway?" I asked, as I wrote him a check so that he could pick up supplies from Home Depot.

"23, but I've been doing this type of work for years. My dad was a carpenter back in Brazil and he got by doing odd jobs when he first moved us here. When I was a kid, he taught me just about everything he knew and I picked up the rest along the way from friends of his," he said, his hands in his pockets, leaning against my kitchen counter. I figured it was a well rehearsed speech as it was the most words I'd heard him put together at one time, not counting the video on his website.

"Holy God, the kid is 10 years younger than me," I thought. "There is no way I should be standing here thinking about how much I want to lick all of his tattoos."

"Ok, here's the check and the keys. What time do you think you'll be here tomorrow?" I asked trying, and failing, to keep my voice level. Rocco just looked at me cockily as my voice cracked. He was probably used to women throwing themselves at him all the time -- occupational hazard, I supposed.

"I'll probably be here around 10 tomorrow. If you stay home from work, I'll see you," he winked.

My ego was definitely inflated thanks to Cameron's attentions and Rocco's flirty banter, but I still wasn't any closer to ending my dry spell. If I didn't get laid soon, I was afraid I'd go crazy. I didn't call Cameron because I knew he was busy, but his unavailability just left room in my imagination for Rocco, the baby Brazilian. Good lord that kid was hot.

Monday when I returned from work Rocco informed me that the storm had done quite a bit more damage to the roof. He tried to tell me all about the repairs that would be needed but I kept getting lost, watching his sexy lips form words that didn't register in my brain. He estimated that with his other appointments, it would take him until the end of the week to make all of the repairs and I just smiled and nodded. I caught myself rushing home from work each night, hoping to catch him in the act of fixing things, preferably without a shirt on.

We didn't manage to have much to say to each other. He reminded me a lot of Bryan, gorgeous but without two thoughts to rub together, unless it involved repairs, sports or hot girls. I suppose it might have been his age, but he seemed to delight in telling me about the women who called him constantly. It was such a bad flirting technique that I didn't even realize that it was one until the third day he was over.

"Booty call?" I asked, leaning on my kitchen counter watching him read a text message on his phone as we drank a beer together. He'd been working steadfastly on the repairs to my roof and I thought the least I could do was offer him a drink in addition to the money I was paying him. It also allowed me further opportunity to take in the sheer beauty of him. For such a strong man, he moved with incredible grace and I couldn't help wondering how that would translate in my bed.

For my part, I was prancing around my house in a tight tank top and shorts that highlighted the ass I'd spent countless hours toning in the gym. I didn't plan to sleep with him. He was just a baby, but it felt really nice to watch Rocco's eyes rove over my body, appreciatively. I was used to guys like Rocco, perhaps a little older, but his type. I knew exactly what to expect, how I could make them react and how to get them into bed, not that it took much. I was pretty sure that all I'd have to do was point to my bedroom and Rocco would join me in there, unlike Cameron who seemed caught in some sort of old fashioned courtship ritual.

"Nah, it was just my friend Ted. He wants me to go out with him tonight. I told him I wasn't sure if you and I were going to hang out or not," he said hopefully.

"No, I think I'm heading to the gym in a bit. You should totally go out with your boys. You don't have to sit around and entertain an old lady like me," I smiled, providing him the perfect opportunity to flirt with me some more.

I wasn't surprised when he missed it, "You're not That old, Olivia."

I waited for him to add something suggestive, like "I'd still hit that or I was hoping you'd entertain Me," but no such comment was forthcoming. We finished our beers and I sent him on his way with just a little disappointment that he hadn't tried any harder to win me over. It was probably just as well though, since I had plans to get a drink with Cameron and some of his friends at happy hour on Friday.

By the time Friday rolled around, I wasn't feeling it though. I was tired and I had a long day of appointments on Saturday so I called him around lunch time to cancel. He was bummed but understanding. I let him know that he was more than welcome to stop by my house afterwards and he showed up around eight while I was on the phone with my mother.

I motioned for him to come in and that I'd be with him in a minute. He took a seat in my living room and I offered him a beer from the kitchen as I listened to my mother harp on.

"Mom, really, I need to get going. I hope you and dad have fun at the car show tomorrow. Love you, bye," I said hurrying her off the phone. Cameron was in my house, I was not going to waste more time listening to her when I could be seducing him.

"That looked painful," he observed, as I handed him a beer and then sat down next to him on my couch.

"Despite my mother's incessant attempts to fix me up with another good Catholic boy, I have no desire to go there ever again," I explained.

"Ah... that explains it," Cameron answered. When I looked at him questioningly he continued, "Your willingness to sleep with me but complete lack of regard for how well we get along and what we have in common. You don't want to date me -- you're just using me for my body," he joked, though the truth of it still hung in the air.

"I've never had any complaints before," I quipped, uncomfortable with the way that Cameron always seemed to be attempting to increase the intimacy of our acquaintance, while I preferred to keep as much emotional distance as possible.

"My guess," he said, his eyes meeting mine in a thoroughly disarming gaze, "is that you've met plenty of men that could have meant something to you -- but you've marginalized every single one of them -- only let them have access to your body. Don't get me wrong, that's tempting, but it's not enough when I know that we could have more. I'm not trying to pitch any love at first sight BS at you, but I am saying that I'm going to pass on one great weekend in bed that ends with you losing my number. If that's what you're looking for, call Rocco. He's young enough not to know any better."

My eyes flashed angrily, "You won't have sex with me unless I want a relationship? You have got to be kidding! It's not the 50s and for fuck's sake, you're a man -- act like one."

"I am," he stated simply, "but you're not looking for a man. You want a boy you can boss around. Give me a call if you change your mind, I'd love to take you out on a real date," Cameron said, standing up to leave, though he'd just gotten there.

It shouldn't have mattered to me, but my stomach sunk at the thought that we were parting ways. We'd been flirting all week and when I wasn't lusting after Rocco, he was on my mind constantly. A small voice inside urged me to reconsider, but my pride was wounded, especially by his assertion that I was being immature. Hell would freeze over before I called that man again. Fuming, I followed him to my front door to lock it behind him. I was completely caught off guard when he stopped, reached out and pulled me to him. His kiss was searching, trying to convince me to take a chance but I was too infuriated to be tempted. Reaching down, I rubbed his cock through his jeans, making it clear that I was maintaining my ground. I'd gladly take him to bed, but he could take his "connection" BS and go. It took a second longer than I thought it would for him to remove my hand, but he did and walked out the door with a sad look over his shoulder from the driveway.

All day Saturday I was in the worst mood. I was horny, confused and pissed off but I couldn't very well let my clients see that. Faking a good mood all day left me exhausted and I was asleep by 8:00 only to dream of Cameron all night. I was even more irritated that he'd managed to get under my skin in any way when all I was trying to do was get his incredible body naked and inside me.

On Sunday, Rocco came over to return my keys and collect final payment. No sooner was he through my front door than I was on him, like the cougar he'd once referred to me as. I was tired of being shut down and I felt like it was past time to see what this beautiful boy could do to my body.

I didn't even bother with words because it was clear that none were necessary. Rocco bent over and scooped me into his arms. He was taking long strides towards my bedroom, kissing my neck and grabbing my breasts in a way that I could only describe as crazy with lust. I can't lie, I felt incredibly pleased with myself for being able to inspire such a reaction in a man so fucking hot.

His kisses weren't tender or passionate, they were greedy and probing, yet deliciously so. He tossed me on the bed and we both removed our clothes so fast, it probably looked like a contest, and then he was on me. His hot skin pressed into mine and I moaned at the weight of him before he used his heavily muscled forearms to bear his weight. His tongue thrust into my mouth and as it explored, I reached down to feel his chest, his stomach and finally his rock hard cock.

My fingers wrapped around him, distracting him from his eager kisses and I motioned for him to roll over so that I could pay more attention to him. Laying on his back, he watched as my lips wrapped around his cock, which was just a little smaller than I'd expected, but I still had to use my fingers to stroke the length that wouldn't fit in my mouth easily.

"Jesus, baby, that feels good. Suck my cock. Yeah, suck my fucking cock," he grunted, spurring me on, as I alternated between licking the length of him and sucking. His fingers groped for my breasts, grabbing them roughly and pinching my nipples as I leaned over him.

I guessed that despite all of the innuendos in his ad, this situation didn't happen very often because he came pretty quickly in my mouth. I swallowed his cum and then blatantly told him it was time to return the favor. Just like in my fantasy, Rocco lost no time trailing his fingers down to my pussy. Kneeling between my legs, he motioned for me to prop them over his shoulders as he began to insert, first one finger and then two inside me. His fingers thrust in and out as he licked and sucked on my clit, my moans filling the room as I climaxed, the first of many that afternoon.