Name: I'm A Pirate, You're A Princess
Rating: Another M people. Again adult material. No under 18's. I don't wanna get in trouble :)
Synopsis: The aftermath.
A/N: I actually can't believe it but because of huge demand I've written this, a sequel to Fever Dreams. I don't do sequels usually but you've all been so lovely with your reviews I can't not write something. It's a bit more...how should I say...sexual than I intended it to be. Do with it what you will. lol
"Betty!" Marc's voice cut through her like a knife. She stopped dead, rolled her eyes, and turned putting on the brightest smile she knew how to. "Well look at you," he exclaimed, waving his hand up and down her body, "Braces gone, no glasses, and wearing cover up! The feminist thing didn't work out for you?"
"Thank you Marc," she breathed, "I'm going to take all that as a compliment. And I'm still a fundamental feminist."
"A fundamental feminist in heels and...-" he stopped abruptly to gasp, pulling her forcefully forward, "Is that a Gucci dress?"
"Ow, Marc," she winced, wriggled free from the fashion obsessed gay, "Yes it is."
"They make Gucci in your size?"
"Ooook," she said, "Great seeing you again Marc, always a pleasure."
He watched stunned as the brunette clicked away in what appeared to be four inch Jimmy Choo's. Sensible work shoes or not, they were still amazing.
She walked down the corridor, rousing more than a few gasps and whispers of surprise. She liked the effect her new recent appearance had on her peers. And quite honestly she had made very few changes. A simple hair cut, braces removed, and a set of lenses seemed to do the trick. And the clothes.
It was an odd feeling she got from them. The idea of spending such ridiculous amounts of cash on a dress five months ago would've killed the feminist in her, but she quickly came to realise that fashion (both the bane and joy of her existence) actually made her feel pretty good. Not that she wouldn't feel just as good in her sweats and jersey but this was different. Nice different. But then again her new job did require a little bit of change. It wasn't exactly her dream job but it wasn't far off. Executive PR Manager for one of the biggest political magazines in the country. True, she wasn't an editor, but as it turned out Betty Suarez was a damn good PR executive. She hadn't really given up on her dream, it was merely on hold. She was still a writer when it came down to things. It was her first true passion after all.
And speaking of true passions, as she rounded the corner to her old desk Daniels office came into full view. There he sat at his desk, legs extended and resting on the surface, newspaper in hand, sipping on a Styrofoam cup of coffee.
Black, two sugars.
Reminding herself that memory lane was not a place that was kind to her, she shook off any fond memories that were threatening to pop into her head (one in particular) and instead headed straight for her old desk. Amanda spun around in the chair, her blonde wavy hair tied back in a loose fashionable ponytail.
"Hey Roomie," she greeted Betty with a huge friendly smile, and the odd part was that it was genuine. Betty chuckled resting her back on the desk.
"Amanda I moved out two months ago," she informed the blonde. Amanda shook her bangs from her eyes and smiled sweetly.
"Oh yeah," she mused, "Thanks for getting the rent this month. It really helped."
"I said I'd help out til you get another roommate, I'm not gonna finance your shopping addiction forever."
"But this way, I'm like your bitch," Amanda purred, winking at her suggestively. Betty visibly shivered, waving her friend off.
"Don't...do that again. It's weird."
But Betty gaze was nowhere near Amanda anymore. Instead it had focused on the man so many lusted after, through plain glass. And as ever Daniel was oblivious even to her presence. The direction of her stare did not go unnoticed by Amanda who leaned forward in an attempt to be coy and whisper.
"So...what's the deal with you and the big chunk of handsome in there? You still fighting over Miss America?"
"What? No. His relationship with Molly is none of my business," Betty snorted, still watching him through the window. She really wished he'd look up.
"You sure? Cos I could ditch some dirt," Amanda, whispered standing up.
"No, I really don't care. Why does everyone expect me and Daniel to have some sort of out of work friendship? We were Boss and assistant. As soon as I quit, it was over."
Amanda paused; looking the brunette perched on her desk up and down. The more adventurous and mischievous side of her kept her talking.
"So you don't want to know how Daniel spends most of his nights here until 1am, and I have to fend off phone calls from his more than livid pre-school teacher?"
There it was. Betty's face went from surprised to confused to downright worried in a matter of ten seconds. Amanda this is stick, stick this is pot, Amanda stir.
"I personally think all this kiddie teacher drama is over someone else."
"Someone else?"
"I think Daniel's doing the naughty on Miss Delia Smith at home," she grinned, elbowing Betty's side.
"Amanda stop gossiping," Betty hissed suddenly, "Nothing much ever changes here does it?"
"Betty chill," Amanda mumbled, looking more than a little hurt, "It's just a theory. There's a lot of theories that didn't pan out. Magazines aimed at fat chicks, carb free bread, Algebra..."
At that exact moment Daniel glanced up to check if Amanda was working. He had to remind her sometimes that she did need to do something bar file her nails to earn her pay check. He was more than a little taken back at the all too familiar image of Betty Suarez standing behind her old desk. His eyes immediately landed on hers and he gauged the panic. After 6 months he still knew her well. Neither was sure what do for too long a moment, and Amanda caught it, frowning when she couldn't quite grasp the atmosphere.
"I-I've got to go," Betty stammered backing away from her friends desk. She looked at her, to Daniel, back to Amanda. It hadn't escaped her attention that he was now standing, contemplating coming out of his office. And she really didn't think she was up for that today.
"But we're meant to be having lunch?" she questioned, "Today I'm allowed to eat something!"
"I'm in the building all day Amanda, working with one of Meade publications other magazines," she told her, backing away swiftly, "Call up, we'll do carbs."
"But I don't know which one!"
It was too late. Betty had run off faster than a model did when there was a sale on diet pills and laxatives.
"Was that Betty?"
Amanda spun around to her boss and placed one hand on her hip. "It was. She just freaked out. I think it's the designer labels."
"What?"
"Prada affects everyone differently Daniel," she sighed, "Maybe Betty just can handle it."
He bit back on the words she seems to handle everything else well and instead went with "Oh. Ok. What's she doing around here?"
"We were meant to do lunch. Well at least that was the plan before Eldorado flew the coop. She's working in the building today apparently. And is buying me a huge dinner later."
"Working here?"
"What is with the third degree Daniel?" Amanda sighed over dramatically and plonked back into her swivel chair, "Ask her yourself. I'm your secretary, not your personal assistant."
"Actually Amanda..." Daniel murmured, scratching the back of his head. The blonde looked up, her gaze harsh, her lips pouting. He decided to let her win this one.
"You're right. I'm sorry."
Plonking down in her seat, her attention was now focused on the game of Tetrus she was so close winning before being rudely interrupted. Daniel paused at the desk for a moment and he wasn't sure why. He of course wasn't going to go after Betty. What on earth would he say? Just ask her how she was and tell her he couldn't get her or the idea of having sex with her one more time out of his head? He decided this was indeed a very bad idea, scolding himself internally. No he would have to push her out of his head for good. His marriage depended on it. Betty Suarez didn't have a place in his life anymore, something both of them regretted.
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Betty knew better than this. She knew better than to accept a temporary contract in the Meade building. She wasn't quite sure what she was trying to achieve by accepting the offer. There was that curiosity, that interest in seeing Daniel again, seeing his reaction at her now. What she really wanted was a little leverage over her former boss. A little voice in her head screamed she had experienced that already but she chased it away. Their mistake had been glazed over it seemed. Afterwards she sulked for days, staying in her pyjamas while watching as the image of Daniel Meade and his newlywed was splashed on every magazine and newspaper this side of the Atlantic. It was a rather hard image to escape in the end. So she took refuge in her apartment before realising how ridiculous the entire situation was.
She tried to rationalise – she didn't have a boyfriend when she slept with him, she didn't have any obligations, it wasn't her fault. All attempts at alleviating a very guilty conscience. Betty Suarez did not deal with guilt well.
"Miss Suarez?" a small voice broke the silence of her now dark office. When did it get so late?
"Yes Melanie?"
"Um...do you mind...I mean can I go home? Everyone else has left and it's getting late for me to catch the subway."
"Oh! Oh of course. Do you need cash for a cab instead?"
"No, I'll be fine. I'm used to the commute Miss Suarez."
"Please. Call me Betty. Miss Suarez makes me sound like a very old woman."
She giggled shyly. "Ok...Betty. Thank you anyway. You sure you don't need anything else?"
"No I'm fine, I'll see you tomorrow."
Betty watched the path Melanie left as she vacated the office, leaving Betty alone. She knew why she had left it so late for herself to go home. She was terrified of bumping into Daniel. Logically she knew this was silly. At eleven at night he would have been well on his way home to his wife. Something twinged inside her, much like a knife, but she swallowed ignoring the feeling. Deciding it was ridiculous to sit in a lonely office for much longer she gathered her files and turned off the light heading for the elevator. The doors pinged closed when she step inside and her hand hovered over Mode's floor. Surely it wouldn't hurt to have a look around her old office while no one was around? She liked the feeling of being back. It reminded her of a time when things were a lot less complicated. She pressed the button unconsciously, not sure why she felt a little bit sick at the thought of getting out at Mode. The elevator seemed to go excruciatingly slow and she let out a breath when the doors opened. She headed out with her head down, moving fast to get to her old desk. She just wanted to see it one more time.
Letting out a long "oomph", she collided with something hard but so soft at the same time. A person. Her files flew to the floor and she immediately followed them, refusing to look up.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled, "I'm so sorry. I wasn't looking."
"It's ok."
Daniel's voice was soft, and she surprised herself by being so unsurprised it was her old boss that she had bumped into. Somewhere in her mind she half expected to bump into him but did not dwell on this. Because if that was the truth then her reasons for stopping off at Mode weren't entirely innocent, and therefore neither were her thoughts. He bent down to help her gather her folders, the gentleman in him returning for the briefest of moments. It wasn't that he liked treating Betty with such an aloof manner but the idea of anything else he just couldn't fathom. Mostly because he was afraid of what might come of it. They tidied them in silence, but they were close. Daniel could smell her, her coconut shampoo, her warm, coffee/minty breath. He felt dizzy. Their foreheads were only slightly apart, her head tilted to the right, her gaze firmly focused on the paper. He however had stopped gathering the files and now looked at her face intently. He could almost sense his pupils dilating, his throat swelling up. He gulped. Hard.
She heard him and glanced up meeting his intense stare. It was so soft but so piercing at the same time. He was looking at her the same way he had before he....She quickly reminded herself that remembering that particular day, especially while they were in such close proximity just wasn't smart. But still she couldn't tear her eyes away from his. She felt him lean in, their noses barely touching.
"Daniel..." she whispered. Her voice reminded him of things he was fighting so hard to forget. It was a sound that had haunted him for the past three months. He dreamt about it, thought about. It just wouldn't leave him no matter how much his wife screamed as he made love to her. She just couldn't drown it out. He watched as she bit her lower lip, it turning a brighter shade of red under the pressure. God he wanted to kiss her there. That was all it took. That one thought and he shook it off, trying to stand up as quickly as possible. She followed and their foreheads collided with a soft thump.
"Ow," she winced, her hand flying to a small bump that was now forming.
"Oh Jesus, are you ok?" he asked, concerned. His hand had followed hers, brushing it away from the spot where they had met. She felt his thumb caress the painful bump and smiled inwardly. "I'm so sorry Betty."
"Yeah me too..." she sighed. His palm opened, pressing against her cheek and he watched with such interest as she buried her face into it. His hand was strong, hard. She had missed the feeling. Again the moment passed and he pulled away like a man burnt.
"How...how you been?" Betty asked, albeit hesitantly.
"Good...ok...I've been better."
"Me too."
"How's Molly?" The words came out before she could stop herself and she cursed under her breath. Daniel looked both surprised and startled by the question.
"She's...she's good. She bought a puppy last week."
"Aw cute!" Betty exclaimed with a bright smile, "What kind?"
"A little Golden Retriever."
"Suppose you hate it?"
"It keeps pissing in my shoes!"
Both laughed together, Daniel scratching the back of his head. Even talking to her, hearing the sound of her laugh made him feel guilty. Like he was doing something wrong.
"Well, I suppose this is your training for when you have your first baby."
He looked alarmed, like she knew something he didn't and she found it charming. And silently satisfying. Knowing he still wasn't ready to have a family gave her hope. Hope for what she wasn't yet sure.
"Yeah..." he said, his mouth twisted into pensive smile. "How have you been? I heard about the promotion. Congratulations."
"Yeah it came out of the blue, pissed off a lot of people who had been there longer. But they've taken a chance on me. I won't let them down."
He wanted to ask her so many things. He wanted to ask her if she was sure this was what she wanted to do, if she was sure she wanted to give up on her dreams of writing but it was too personal. Too much too soon.
"I know you won't."
He was beaming at her, that proud look that had been noticeably absent for so long was back. She felt a smile tug at her own lips and she bared her teeth again with a giggle. He wasn't sure if he was used to her without braces.
"This what the new looks for? The job?" he asked, finally deciding to hand her files.
"Um sort of. More for me. I feel pretty now."
"You were pretty before."
The words hung between them, the atmosphere begging to be recognised by the awkward couple.
"Thanks."
"Well I'd better go, Molly's been calling," he told her, making his way past her. She turned around her gaze following him.
"Are you happy Daniel?" she called after him. He stopped dead, bracing the wall with one hand. She knew she shouldn't have asked but couldn't help herself.
"I don't think I have to answer that question," he said, his voice low.
"No you're right...you don't...it's just...are you? I at least need to know you're happy."
"I am...happy..." he added with a sigh, his eyes clenched shut. He still couldn't turn back to face her.
"Really?" Her voice sounded small, and broke ever so slightly. He turned, hands in the pockets of his navy suit. He looked at her for what seemed like eternity, considering the small Mexican girl in front of him.
"Are you happy?" he asked finally.
"I...I love my job, and my apartment and my family..."
"That's not what I asked."
She unconsciously took a step forward and he did the same.
"You didn't answer my question."
Another step.
"I did."
"You didn't look at me when you answered."
And another.
"What does that matter?"
"Makes it easier for you to lie."
And yet another. Before either of them had realised it, they stood inches apart, gazing at the other with a look neither could really describe. He raised a hand, returning it to her cheek.
"I think about this girl a lot," he whispered, his thumb trailing from her cheek to her chin and to her lips.
"Oh yeah?" she asked, her breath heaving.
"Yeah. I know I shouldn't but I can't stop. I never should've started."
"Why?"
"Because I'm in love with my wife. But this girl....I can't stop thinking about her."
"Thinking about her how?"
"You know."
"No I don't."
"I think of her kissing me, I think of touching her, feeling her breasts...I think of fucking her. I think of her calling my name when she cums. And I'm thinking of all this when I make love to my wife."
His hand now gripped her neck, tilting her head backwards and exposing the pulsating underside he was so desperate to kiss.
"I think she thinks about me too," he whispered leaning in so she could feel his breath against the tender skin of her neck. "I'm attracted to her. Perversely so. She's younger, sweeter, more innocent than anything I've ever imagined. My best friend. I know I have power over her."
He was certainly right about that. She felt like she was melting in his arms, he was literally the only thing keeping her upright, with his free hand wrapped around her waist, pulling her lower body to his.
"Daniel..." she breathed, straightening her neck to look him in the eyes. "I can't trust myself with you. I'm not the same. I feel completely different. What if people knew?"
"What if they knew you weren't as sweet as you let on? You keep tempting me Betty. Dangling yourself in front of me when you know I can't."
"I didn't...I..." she murmured, her eyes glazed.
"Then why did you come in here tonight?"
She couldn't answer. Not truthfully anyway. So she pressed her lips together focusing on a spot over his shoulder.
"I didn't expect to want you Betty. I don't want to. But you make me crazy."
"The one thing you can't have," she choked out, her eyes now flying to his moist lips.
"See. You know what you do."
"Show me?" she requested with such sweetness he had a flash of his best friend back. Not the temptress in front of him. He pushed her back roughly against the wall and she winced as he pinned her arms above her head.
"I don't think you want me half as much as I want you," he growled.
"How do you know?" Her glare was accusatory. Angry that he would make any assumption when he hardly knew her anymore.
"Because you've not mentioned a word of wanting me. You just stand here letting me touch you."
"I do. Want you."
"How can I know?"
"The week after we..."
"After we fucked," he finished her sentence more bravely than she ever could, and she felt a rush of warmth between her legs.
"Yeah...well...I couldn't stop...I thought about it."
"And?"
"I've never masturbated in my entire existence. I used to think it was gross. But you were always there and I wanted to feel how you made me feel again...." she dragged off, breathless.
"You touched yourself?" he asked with a smile. A smile that terrified her. Her silence was enough of a response. "Do it again."
"What?" she asked, confused.
"Show me you want me."
She bit down on her lip considering his request. He felt like such a pervert, asking his assistant to touch herself in front of him. It wasn't how he usually got off. He watched as she took a shaky hand and pushed her dress up above her thighs and in turn down the waistband of her black panties.
She wore white the first time.
His lips parted ever so slightly as she rubbed herself, her head falling back on the wall, letting out a silent gasp. He was a voyeur, watching something he knew he shouldn't want. Her eyes met his and she drew her hand out and tentatively stepped forward to touch his hardness through his pants.
"One more time? Please?"
She wasn't begging, but damn near to it. With a grunt more animal than human he wrenched her off, and spun her round, bending her over. She let out a little whimper, bracing the wall in front.
"Daniel?" she asked, her voice small. She felt him slide her panties down to the floor and she shivered when the cold hit her legs. "Daniel?"
"How many guys have you slept with Betty?" he asked. She couldn't see his face. She wasn't sure what to say, what he wanted her to say. So instead she was honest.
"Two. Henry and Walter."
"Were they good?"
"Walter tried. Henry made love to me. It was always good."
She gasped loudly when she felt him insert a finger to her wetness, pumping it in and out.
"As good as when we...." he dragged off, concentrating on his task. She could barely think with sensations wracking her body.
"Different," she breathed, her head falling forward, pushing back against his hand.
"What I don't get is how no one has ever just fucked you. No one has ever seen you as any way sexual. They've all just wanted to look after you."
"Not everything..."
Gasp.
"Is about sex..."
"This is."
He was right, and Betty Suarez wasn't arguing. Daniel made her feel alive. He made her feel craved. So she didn't object when she felt his cock at her opening. She didn't objected when he pounded against her, eliciting the loudest noises from her. She didn't object when he bent over her, his hands finding her breasts and massaging them. In fact quite the opposite. She called for him never to stop and Daniel was meticulous in pleasing her, much like he was at any task. He never forgot where to touch her or how to make her scream. He remembered everything.
Except the security camera pointing down at them in the hallway.