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CLUB JUKE🎸
made by @kashmirvili
Headsprung
Summary: You meet Smoke while working as a paralegal on him and his brother’s case—just another client, another file. He’s older, unreadable, and far too composed for someone who makes you this nervous. Whatever’s between you shouldn’t exist, but the longer it lingers, the harder it is to ignore.
Pairing: Older! Smoke x Young! Closed off! reader
WC: 14.7k
Warning: 18+, older man/ younger woman dynamic, arguments, smut, betrayal, bdsm aspects.
Most days your life is pretty simple, mundane and routine— go to class, go to work, and come home. Most people would look at your life and weep for more, but it’s perfect for you. You desire a simple life with peace— no partying, toxic relationships, or unnecessary drama.
This year you have branched out a bit in your classes and made a few friends, but nothing more than that.
The wind in New York has picked up with the temperature steadily dropping, definitely not the kind of weather that’s fit for office skirts and heels.
You dropped your cello off at your apartment and you wait outside to catch a cab. The streets are busy with people today, normally at this time they’re not as busy.
The scent of hot chocolate fills the air as people set up their stands outside for the upcoming holidays.
A cab pulls up to the sidewalk, waiting for you to get in.
You get in the car, adjusting in your seat.
“Where to?” The man asks while looking at you in the rear view mirror.
“Giordano law firm on fifth avenue.”
“Heard.” The man replies back with a nod.
You look out the window, staring at all of the Christmas decor that’s out. A certain part of it truly feels magical still as an adult.
Your cab ride takes about 40 minutes.
The security guards at the front door of the building greet you with a smile, one of them opening the doors for you.
The sound of your heels clicking echoes throughout the lobby.
You make your way to the elevator and press the button, just waiting for your stop— dreading the paperwork you’ll have to do today.
The bell dings and the doors open at the fifteenth floor, the receptionist waving at you as you walk into the office.
“Good afternoon!” You smile, waving as you walk past.
You walk into your office space, the door gently shutting behind you as you set your bags down and turn on your lamp.
The smell from your cinnamon candle that you lit days prior is still lingering.
Just as your computer starts to load up, your boss opens your door— peaking his head in.
“I sent over some files for you to look over, it’s for a new client I just accepted last minute.”
You turn towards him, your brows slightly furrowed.
He hangs his head in defeat. “I know, I know. Don’t kill me over it.”
“I’ll start looking it over, but I probably won’t be truly focused on it until tomorrow.”
He looks at his watch and bites his lip in fear.
“What?” You ask with your head tilted out of confusion.
“Actually, he’ll be here in an hour to discuss it with you..”
Your mouth drops in shock, “Tony..”
“I know, but he’s paying top dollar for us to represent him. You’ll get a raise for this too, I’ve already added it to your payroll.”
You turn back around, facing your computer and opening up your email.
“I’ll get to work on that.”
“Thank you so much! I knew I could depend on you.” He rants before shutting the door.
You scan through the email he sent—opening up all the documents and giving a quick glimpse through all of the information.
You pull out some of your sticky notes and jot down a few pivotal notes about what you noticed in the documents.
Time slips your mind as you're going over the information and printing out the paperwork.
Your office phone rings, it’s the receptionist letting you know that the client is here and waiting in conference room three.
“Shit.” You mumble.
You grab all of the paperwork and your sticky notes before leaving your office and heading to the conference room.
You walk into the room, still face deep into the paperwork and not looking up.
You sit down at the table, before glancing up.
You see two very handsome, identical men staring back at you.
You’d be lying if you said that it doesn’t catch you off guard, you stare blankly for a few seconds.
“Twins?” You ask, flipping through the papers.
“Nah, we cousins.” One of them jokes with a grin.
You let out a slight chuckle, you can appreciate the response.
“Which one of you is Elias Moore?”
The man sitting in front of you on the left nods his head.
You slide over a piece of paper and pen to him.
“That is the client contract that we have here. It just states that we expect total compliance and honesty from you as a client, if you cannot comply then we cannot adequately represent you— which gives us the legal right to drop you as a client.”
“It also tells you the retainer fee and how much he costs per hour..”
He signs the dotted line and passes the paper back to you.
You move it to the side and glance up at the other man beside him.
“What’s your name?”
He stares at you, his eyes slowly scanning every inch of your face.
“I’m Elijah, his brother and business partner.”
You nod, pulling off the cap of your pen to fill out a few of the pages.
“Are you part of the lawsuit?”
He shakes his head no.
“We also like to be called Stack and Smoke. I’m Stack and he’s Smoke” Stack chimes in.
You nod, but it’s definitely unlike anything you’ve heard of before.
“The paperwork says that you’re being sued for two million dollars, is that correct?”
He sighs, but nods his head.
“It says that you’re being sued for repudiation, in other words— you indicated that you’d abandon the project.”
Stack shrugs. “I mean, hell the motherfucker—“
Smoke nudges him, cutting him a look.
“My apologies for my language. He already told me that things were going wrong with the project, more money than usual needing to be dumped into it. So, yeah— I told him that we were pulling out.”
You write down his statements on the forms in front of you.
“Would you say that he didn’t hold up his end of the contract?”
“Yeah.” Smoke replies.
“How long was this project initially supposed to take?” You ask, looking up at both of them.
“Six months.” Stack replies.
“How long has it been as of today?”
“Twenty months.” Smoke hesitantly informs you.
You stop writing and stare at them— looking over your glasses as they sit on the bridge of your nose.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes ma’am.” Stack nods.
All you can do is shake your head as you write the information down.
“How long have you known the complainant?”
Stack takes the toothpick out of his mouth, “fifteen years.”
“Wow.. uh, that’s unfortunate that you ended up in this position.”
You finish jotting down a few more notes while the room is silent.
You glance at your watch on the table and start organizing your papers.
“Well gentlemen, I think that’ll be all I need from both of you today.”
They both stand up, adjusting their seats.
You grab all the papers, standing up and walking towards the door.
Stack takes a phone call as he holds the door open for both of you.
“Nice meeting both of you. I’ll be in touch, if we need anything.” You mention.
Smoke holds his hand out to shake yours.
You grab his hand giving it a firm shake, your eyes meeting his. He stares into your eyes, almost like time around you is stopping.
You’re barely able to notice him saying thank you with the way you’re enamored by him. His very presence, his voice, and his overall demeanor.
You let go of his hand, an intense feeling of embarrassment festering inside you.
The rest of your shift at the office has gone by smoothly and quicker than you expected.
You sit at the desk finishing up the emails you needed to send out and slowly but surely gathering your things.
The last email is sent, you power off your computer, turn off the lamp and grab your stuff to head out the door. Just as you walk to the door, your office phone rings and you debate not picking it up— but you do anyway.
“Hello, the office is currently closed right now—“
“It’s me, Elijah. I was calling to see if Stack could get your number in case he needs to get in contact with you for anything regarding the case.”
You hold the phone to your ear, barely processing what was said.
“Um, anything he’d need he could just call the office phone.”
“Well, what if it’s after hours or on a day y’all are closed?”
Your mind races trying to think on what would be the correct course of action, but you also think about how furious your boss would be if you said no.
You take a deep breath and slowly recite the number to your cell.
“Thank you, I’ll make sure to get it to him.”
“No problem, is that all you needed from me?” You ask.
“Yes.”
“Okay, we’ll be in touch if we need anything else.”
The line disconnects.
The next morning you get up and start your day early— you feed your cat Binx before you leave for class, barely leaving out in time.
You and your friend Lane are the first two people in the auditorium, killing time before class starts.
“You know, our firm just took on this pretty big case.” You mention.
Lane’s brow raises, “really? Is it a high profile one?”
You shrug your shoulders, unsure how to answer.
“I can’t really say, because I don’t know. I mean, it’s a lawsuit for two million dollars against these twins.”
“Twins? Men or women?”
You let out a laugh, nudging her. “Girl, you know I’m talking about men.”
She throws her hands up in defeat.
“Shit, I didn’t know.”
You both laugh, neither one of you taking anything serious. Y’all’s laughter echoes throughout the auditorium.
“Are they at least cute?”
You glance at her with a smirk.
Despite the fact that you don’t want to admit how fine they are, they are fine. The kind of fine that you see on tv, the kind that sounds made up.
“So, how’s it been at the firm? Is it stressful?” She questions.
You shake your head, shifting your weight and leaning against the wall.
“It’s been good. This firm does take a lot of high rollers, so there can be stress regarding that— but you get used to it. The cases themselves aren’t hard at all.”
She sips on her coffee, swirling it around. “I wish it was like that at the one I’m at, that firm is a hell hole.”
Your brow raises, “really?”
She nods. “Shitty boss, huge workload, underpaid, and doing a ton of work off the clock.”
“That’s a shame, truly. I was hoping that you’d like this one.”
She scoffs, “me too.”
You start to set up your cello as more people start coming in for class.
Today, you’re performing in front of the class for your final project. At the start of the semester, the professor assigns each student a different song to work on individually, and you perform it for him at the end for a grade.
Your palms start to sweat, just at the thought of messing this up.
One thing you don’t play about is school in general and your skill with playing the cello. You’re very proud of how good you are at playing and how your practice shows up when you perform—but now doubts are seeping into your head about how good you’ve practiced.
You take a deep breath, walking over towards Lane after you finish setting up.
She stares at you and the anxiety written all over your face.
“Are you nervous?”
You wipe your hands off on your pants, giving her a slight nod.
“I just.. I just hope that I practiced enough.”
Lane wraps her arms around you, bringing you closer.
“Don’t even sweat it, girl! You did more than enough and I’m sure you’re going to ace this.”
You hug her back, grateful for a friend like her.
The doors to the auditorium, everyone’s eyes meeting the noise.
Your professor Mr. Chang walks in with his clipboard, heading to the stage.
“Sorry, everyone for being late. I got caught up in a meeting.”
You adjust your shirt, leaning up against Lane.
Mr. Chang makes his way to the front of the auditorium, stopping at the steps right before you go on stage.
“I want to say that I’m very certain all of you have prepared greatly for this assignment. I know that all of you are nervous, some are even already asking about possible re-takes and we haven’t even started—“
“Just pretend that you’re alone and that this is your time to shine.”
He gestures for you to come over to him.
You share one last look with Lane before walking away.
He writes a few things on his clipboard before looking up at you.
“Are you ready?”
You take a deep breath, “it’s now or never.”
The lights in the auditorium dim as you walk onto the stage, the whispers and conversations between your peers coming to a halt.
Your heart races in your chest, your nervousness at an all time high.
You take your seat, waiting for further instruction.
There’s a brief pause before Mr.Chang looks up and gives you the go ahead.
You close your eyes like he suggested and begin to play as if you’re alone and in your own world. You imagine playing at a sold out opera house, people coming from near and far to see you.
All of your worries and fears vanish as you play.
Your bow feels weightless in your hand as it glides against the strings, gliding in a precise movement like it has a mind of its own.
Mr. Chang and the rest of the class watch you in awe.
You end the song on a note that makes everyone stand up to applaud you.
Your best friend Lane, smiling ear to ear.
You stand up from your seat, trying not to smile too hard.
Mr. Chang finishes his notes as he walks up the stairs beside you and onto the stage.
“Wow, um—“
“Your performance was one of the best that I’ve seen in a long time. You hit every note so effortlessly and with such intricacy. Well done.”
Your eyes get glassy from his words and the overall compliment of your performance.
“It should go without saying that you’ve received a hundred on your assignment. I’m blown away, truly and I think the rest of the class has pretty big shoes to follow after your performance.”
Your friend hugs you with a big grin as the class starts clapping again.
A few minutes later Mr. Chang dismisses class and you grab your stuff to leave.
Before you walk out the door, Mr. Chang runs up beside you and taps you on the shoulder.
“Can I speak to you for a minute?”
“Uh, sure.” You reply with a little confusion.
“You are by far one of my best students and I know how much you practice and study. I wanted to ask, are you interested in the tutoring program offered for my class?”
You stand there for a second and take in the question before coming up with a suitable answer.
“I had thought about it, but I’m just too busy for it. I never have enough time.”
He nods, fiddling with the clipboard.
“I just ask that you take time to consider it again, I think it could be very beneficial to you and your classmates.”
He walks away, leaving you with your thoughts and still reeling from the high of nailing your performance.
It paid off. All of the late nights practicing and studying was worth it.
You get outside, adjusting your jacket to the cold wind while you stand there waiting for a taxi.
The man pulls the cab in front of you, a bit away from the curb.
You get in, shaking from the coldness outside.
“Shit! It’s so cold outside.”
The man laughs, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.
“Where to?”
“Park Avenue.”
Your taxi ride is quiet, just the low hums of the car and whatever radio station he has on. He drops you off where you asked and you walk into your apartment building.
Once you get inside and take your jacket and shoes off, you’re greeted by your cat Binx. She’s meowing at a very high pitch and walking in between your legs.
“I know, I know. I’m going to feed you in a second, I promise.”
Binx always acts like she’s starving if you don’t feed her at her exact time, even a minute later and she’s meowing like you’ve abandoned her.
You pull out her food that you had prepped before you left and scrape it into her bowl. You’re barely able to finish putting it in there before she’s diving in and eating it like you’re gonna take it away from her.
Once you’re finished with that, you sit down on the couch with a glass of wine and open your laptop to start working. Normally, you’d use this time to kick your feet up and catch up on tv— but this case is taking any free time you have left.
Reading all of the documents that you have available makes this case look anything other than winnable. You’re taking notes on it and sending out dozens of emails, but even then it still feels like he will end up paying out. Maybe with some luck, he won’t have to— but it’s up in the air.
You sip your wine as you type up an email to your boss, attach the files you’ve gathered, and let him know what you have so far and what you still need.
You also note that these documents might need extra verification before they can be submitted into the system.
You set your glass in the sink and toss the empty wine bottle, stepping away from your computer while you wait for a response.
Sitting at the computer and working while watching the sun set around you is blissful, something you enjoy more now than ever.
You sit back down on the couch and your computer dings, your boss responds.
He informs you that Elias is coming to the office tomorrow to talk about his assets. You reply back acknowledging the email, closing out all of your tabs, and turning off your laptop.
Now that your work is done, you spend the rest of your afternoon and night— catching up on Real Housewives of Atlanta and eating the Chinese takeout you ordered.
Your day doesn’t have to start early as it normally does, because you don’t have any classes today. You just have to report straight to the firm.
By 10:30 am you’re walking through the firm doors and heading to your office.
You put your lunch away in your mini fridge, adjust your blinds to the window, and light a candle before getting started.
The first four hours at work are filled with calls from people needing consultations, but the firm’s schedule is booked from open to close everyday. After the last consultation call, your boss comes into your office and tells you to close off the schedule for the remainder of the year. He says that it wouldn’t be feasible to continue taking on clients with his already huge caseload.
You update the company website to reflect that you’re no longer taking on new clients and you update the phone call system to update people there as well.
Your day has already been so busy non- stop and you can feel a headache coming on. You grab your lunch and eat some of the food you packed in hopes that it would make you feel better.
You eat what you can and put the rest away before you grab your paperwork and make your way to the conference room to wait on Elias.
You sit down at the table, checking your watch and making sure that you’re still on time.
A few minutes later both of them walk in the room to your surprise.
“Hello, Good afternoon.” You smile, shuffling through the papers.
They take a seat across the table.
“Afternoon.” Smoke nods.
You pull out a pen, glancing at the paper.
“So, you’re here today for us to discuss your assets—“
“Discussing your assets is a pivotal part of working a case, we need to make sure all bases are covered and to go over what would happen if you’d lose the case.” You mention.
Stack’s fingers tap the table, a sigh escaping his lips.
“We ain’t gotta worry about us losing, that shouldn’t be happening.”
You let out a laugh, not that he’s funny— but he’s too cocky for his own good.
“There’s always a possibility, unless you have stone cold proof of something that would invalidate the complainants claim.”
He sucks his teeth and Smoke cuts him a look.
“I’m going to go down this list of properties that you have listed, you let me know which you’d be willing to lose if you end up owing the two million.”
“The Colorado ranch?”
“No.”
“This isn’t a property, but you have a yacht listed.”
“No.”
“The penthouse near Times Square?”
“Hell nah.” He chuckles.
“The penthouse in Miami?”
“No.”
“The multi use building in Chicago?”
“Nope.”
You glance up with your brow raised and a slight smirk.
“If you’re not willing to give any of your properties up, then how will you pay? They will seize them if you’re uncooperative.”
“Cash.” Smoke chimes in.
You set the pen down on the table, leaning back in your chair with your fingers intertwined in your lap.
“Cash? You’re going to pay the two million dollars with cash?”
“Yes ma’am.” Stack replies.
You sit up in the chair and pick up the pen, jotting down the info.
You pass Stack a piece of paper and a pen.
“Write down the routing and accounting number to whichever account you’ll use.”
Smoke pulls out a cigarette, “can I smoke in here?”
“No, you may not.” You reply curtly.
He licks his lips, almost as if a grin is tugging at his lips.
Stack slides the pen and piece of paper back to you.
“Is it clean?” You ask.
“As a whistle.” Smoke replies.
“Alright then, I’ll get this to Tony and he’ll verify the funds. I will be back in contact, if we need anything else.” You inform them.
You stand up, adjusting your skirt and grabbing the papers off of the table.
“Gentlemen.” You nod.
They stand up, pushing their chairs back up to the table and watching you walk out of the room.
“My, my, my.” Smoke mumbles under his breath.
From the very first glance Smoke knew that he wanted you. The way you carry yourself, the way you speak, the way that you’ve been handling the case— every detail about you has caught his eye. Especially today, seeing you in the red blouse and the short black skirt. It did something to him.
He can no longer deny what he thinks of you, despite trying his hardest to.
When you talk, he listens and nothing else catches his attention. When you grin, a heat fills his chest. It’s like you’re in control of him.
It’s been a long time since he’s looked at anyone the way he’s looking at you.
He wants to get to know you, he has to for his own sanity.
Once you get back to your office, you have to sit down and take a deep breath. Despite so little interaction with Smoke, he lives in your mind.
You finish up filling out a few things and you’re about to wrap your day up. You’ve been so busy that hours have slipped past you while you’ve been working.
As you’re about to turn your computer off, you get a text.
“Can you meet me at a restaurant in Manhattan to discuss more details about the case? -E”
You have to read it a few times out of confusion, because there’s no reason that you’d have much to discuss. You’ve already gotten most of the documents needed, you discussed their assets, and you’ve gone over all pivotal information with Elias. You text him back, “Sure thing! Just text me the address.”
You were looking forward to going home and now you’re about to go to a restaurant and discuss more work related things.
Your phone dings with the information about the restaurant and what time you need to be there. You realize you still have time before needing to head there, so you decide to head home and feed your cat. The sun will be setting soon and she probably won't get her food on time once you go to the restaurant.
You take a thirty minute cab ride home to feed Binx really quickly, drop your stuff off, and then you’re back in another cab on your way to Manhattan.
Once the cab arrives at the restaurant, you’re ready for this to be over and hoping that he doesn’t have much to talk about.
The restaurant is fancy, it’s dimly lit and requires reservations.
You step inside by passing the line out of the door and walking to the staff at the counter. You let them know that you’re supposed to be meeting someone here. You’re not even able to finish your sentence before they’re telling you to follow them— they already know who you are and who you’re looking for.
They walk you back to a table in the back, against the window with a great view.
You’re greeted by Smoke at the table instead of Stack and the confusion is written all over your face.
“Hello.”
You sit at the table, taking your coat off and putting it behind the chair.
“Hi..”
“I thought Elias needed me here for paperwork?” You question.
“You are here for paperwork, but it’s me handling this instead of Stack.”
He hands you a manila envelope, “Get this to Tony. It’s for his eyes and his only.”
You nod and put the envelope in your purse.
He calls over the waiter and has them bring over a bottle of wine.
“Do you drink?”
You shrug, “occasionally.”
The waiter pours a red wine into your glass, asking Smoke if there is anything else he’d need.
“I’d also like an old fashioned.” He mentions.
The waiter smiles, “I’ll be right back with that.”
The soft jazz music plays in the restaurant from an actual live band in the corner performing it. This is the kind of restaurant you’d bring your lover or mistress, not a place for a business interaction.
“What’s the meaning of this?” You ask while taking a sip of wine from your glass.
“I want to get to know the person handling this case. I know Tony, but I don’t know you.”
You let out a scoff that’s just short of a laugh.
“There’s not much to know, I’m just the paralegal assigned to your case and nothing more.”
The waiter brings his drink to the table and two menus, before leaving the table promptly.
“That’s a corporate response if I’ve ever heard one.”
You open your menu, browsing through it and avoiding eye contact.
“Who are you really?” He pries.
You don’t respond leaving his question hanging in the air.
“Do you bring all the Paralegals that you meet out for dinner?”
He chuckles, rubbing his finger around the brim of the glass.
“Are you assuming that we’re always in legal trouble and in need of a paralegal?”
You look up from your menu, a smirk on your face.
“Hm.”
“You gonna answer my question?” He asks, his brow raised.
You push some of your hair out of your face and sit back in your chair, staring at him.
“I’m a paralegal that works for Tony Giordano and that also attends Julliard.”
“Interesting ..” he mumbles under his breath.
“Is there anything else that you want to know?” You ask with a hint of sarcasm.
He picks up his menu, reading through it and his eyes are still somehow lingering on you.
“What instrument do you play?”
“I play the cello. Also not everyone that attends Julliard is playing an instrument.”
“Good instrument.” He comments.
The waiter comes back to the table and takes both of your orders. You order the steak salad and he orders the grilled salmon and asparagus.
A silence lingers between the two of you, both of you unsure who should take the lead in the conversation.
“How do you know Tony?”
“I only know him, because I work for him. He posted an ad for the job, I applied and I was selected—“
“How do you know him?”
He finishes his drink, almost like he’s buying time with his answer.
“Business.”
“Hmm. What do you and your brother do?”
“We own a few nightclubs and a few businesses.”
You finish the wine in your glass.
“So, what did the two of you actually do in order to get sued for two million?”
He gives you a breathy laugh, shocked by your straightforwardness.
“You’d make a fantastic lawyer, straight to the heavy hitting questions.”
The waiter comes back bringing another old fashioned and filling your glass with wine again.
“It’s not a heavy hitting question. Most people aren’t sued too quickly for breach of contract, not in this manner. The complainant doesn’t even want to settle, he wants a trial. You guys seriously pissed him off.”
He shrugs his shoulders, “we handled the situation way better than most would have.”
The waiter brings your food out and it looks absolutely delicious, Smoke digs in and so do you.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
You glance up in shock. You finish chewing your salad, taking your time with answering.
“Do I have a what?”
“You heard me.”
You squirm in your seat a little, your heart beating faster.
“I don’t have a boyfriend. I’m not sure what that has to do with me being the paralegal working on your case though.”
“I just didn’t want to step on any toes with this dinner.” He points out.
You swirl your wine around in the glass before taking another sip. This dinner wasn’t what you were expecting and that’s okay, but this man has you feeling things that you shouldn’t be feeling for a client..
The wine is making your body feel warm and tingly, the sensation carrying its way through your body.
Your eyes follow his every movement, including the way his tongue drags across his bottom lip after he takes a bite of his food.
“What are the chances that we walk away clean?”
You wipe your mouth with a napkin, trying to figure out a way to give him a genuine answer.
“Hm—“
“If you gave any solid evidence in that folder then you’ll have a chance, if not then you’ll probably end up losing.”
You finish the wine in your glass— feeling full and like your stomach could burst.
You catch a glimpse at your watch. “Shit, it’s getting late and I have to get home.”
You pull out your wallet and he puts his hand out, stopping you.
“Nah, you’ll never have to worry about a tab with me.”
He puts three hundreds on the table and stands up— putting his coat on and walking over to help you put yours on.
“Thank you for dinner, it was lovely and it was nice getting to speak to you.”
You turn to walk away and he grabs your hand catching you off guard.
“I can give you a ride, I’ll have my driver drop you off.”
He guides you through the restaurant, holding your hand.
You both get outside, standing side by side and no longer holding hands.
A blacked out Escalade pulls up and a driver gets out of the car, coming to the passenger side and opening the door for you.
“Ms.” The driver smiles.
You get in and Smoke gets in on the other side.
Once the driver is in, you tell him your address. You sit back, enjoying the warm and comfortable ride to your apartment.
There isn’t any talking going on between you two during the ride, Smoke is taking a few calls and you’re just trying to relax.
After what feels like a while in the car, the driver pulls in front of your apartment building and he comes to open the door for you. As you get out, you adjust your skirt and turn to thank Smoke for the dinner.
He gives a nod and waves at you, still on the phone.
The driver shuts the door and you walk into the building.
When you get inside your apartment, you kick your heels off and collapse onto your couch. Your day has been busy and non-stop, normally you’d be exhausted and ready for bed— but after that dinner he’s all you're thinking about.
Not that you’d ever end up with him, but he was interested in you and in what you do. It’s never happened before, it feels like the stuff you see in movies.
Maybe, you’re reading too much into it and it was just simply a professional dinner— but there’s nothing professional about the way he makes you feel.
After a long and hot shower, you get into bed and try getting some rest.
When you wake up the next morning, you complete your usual routine— but this time instead of getting ready for work or class, you’re going to a Pilates class. You don’t attend as much as you used to, but when you need something to clear your mind— you immediately book a class.
The class is an hour and thirty minutes long, which is exactly what you need. More time focusing on yourself and your body instead of him.
On your way home, you get a call from your boss and he asks you to come in.
You rush home, shower, and change into your work attire. Barely enough time to do all of that, before you’re in a taxi and on your way to work.
Once you get into your office— you sit down and sign into your computer to get started on your work.
There’s a knock at your door. You turn in your seat to see a delivery man standing there holding flowers.
“I was told these are for you.”
You accept them and sit them down on your desk.
“These are beautiful, who sent them?” You mumble to yourself.
You read the card.
“Thank you for joining me for dinner last night. I had a wonderful time.”
You’re grinning ear to ear, unable to hide it.
You really felt that maybe you were reading into things too much or that you were being delusional, but maybe he does share the same attraction that you do. Why else would he have twenty four roses delivered to your office?
You get back to focusing on work and you send a few emails out, but that’s interrupted when your boss calls you to his office. At first you’re worried that he somehow found out about the dinner, but instead it was him thanking you. He thanked you for being so patient and understanding with the case load you’ve had lately. He also informs you that you’ll be getting a Christmas bonus, which makes you really happy to hear. You could use it for so many things and you’ve earned it with all of the late nights within the last few months.
You get back to your office and you’re almost jumping for joy at his praise for you and your work.
You take a quick break, searching a few things on your computer and you send an update email to Stack— letting him know that he has a court date for the case coming up in two weeks.
Lunchtime is approaching, so you grab your bag and head down the street to a local Mexican restaurant.
You wait for Lane to arrive.
She meets you at the restaurant a few minutes later.
“Hey!”
“Hey, girl!” You laugh, giving her a quick hug as she sits down.
“How have you been?”
You sit back down in your seat, scooting closer to the table.
“I’ve been good, just busy working and practicing as usual. How are you?”
She laughs, pushing her hair behind her ear.
“Shit, stressed. I’m not ready for my performance, at least I don’t feel ready. I don’t think I’ve practiced enough.”
You scoff, waving her off. “You damn near practice just as much as I do, you’re more than ready.”
“What if I mess up?”
“Then you take a deep breath and continue through your performance, you got this and you know you do.”
The waiter comes to your table and takes y’alls orders, both of you already knowing what you want. You both order taco salads and a margarita.
“So, how’s the case doing?” She asks, eyes focused on you and your body language.
“It’s going about how you’d expect it to, very up in the air.”
The waiter brings the margaritas to the table and a few napkins.
You sip on yours, looking around the room.
“What about the client?” She pries.
You try to keep from smirking and you continue to look around the room.
“What about him?”
“Girl, don’t be coy with me. You already know what I’m talking about.”
You both laugh.
“I mean they’re both fine, but the oldest twin was the one that caught my attention.”
She sips on her margarita, a smile on her face.
“Okay, I see you.”
You shake your head, still downplaying your attraction to him.
“He’s technically a client and I’d never cross that line.”
The waiter brings out your food and both of you waste no time before saying a quick prayer and digging in.
“Do you think you’d ever consider it, if he was interested?” She questions, taking another bite of her food.
“Um, still no. He’s very handsome, but I’d like to maintain that level of professionalism between us. He’s also way older than me and I just don’t have time for that.”
Lane eyes you and just nods her head to your answer. She knows you like the back of her hand and it’s very clear that she doesn’t buy it.
Part of what you said is true, you don’t have time for that. You’re not interested in any type of fling between a man, you have school and work to worry about.
Does he interest you? Yes, but blurring that line between client and anything else is always a terrible idea.
“Well, if you’re genuinely not interested in him— send him my way. I need an older man in my life.” She giggles.
You fake a smile, but you know damn well that you want him all for yourself.
Lunch wraps up about twenty minutes later as both of you have to get back to work. You cover both tabs, give her a hug and start your walk back to the office. On your way to the office, your boss calls you and tells you that he closed early. He has a family emergency and told you that you’re off for the rest of the day with pay.
You get a cab back home, excited to have a free afternoon.
Once you’re home you immediately kick your shoes off and get ready to start practicing with your cello. Lately, work has had most of your time and you haven’t spent nearly enough time practicing.
Playing your cello gives you a sense of comfort and peace, it’s the one thing you’re truly dedicated to. You were taught how to play at a young age and you’ve held that close to you ever since.
You look over your notes from class and the music sheets that Mr.Chang gave everyone. Now that the class concert is a week away— you need to be practicing even more and harder than you did before.
You sit in your chair near the window, in complete silence and you begin playing.
The sound flowing through your apartment is like something magical.
You’re in your own world when you play—free from all thoughts, worries, and fears.
Hours pass by while you’re playing, before you finally decide to be done for the afternoon and take a break.
You put your cello away, feed Binx, and sit down on the couch— opening your laptop to check your emails.
The sunset glow from outside shines through the window, casting your shadow on the wall.
You finish a few correspondence emails, hoping for fast responses— but you’re not holding your breath. You come across an email from the complainant's attorney. You open the file in the email only to realize that it’s a clear as day recording of Stack threatening the complainant.
Your skin is hot and mouth agape. This is bad, really bad.
You immediately pick up the phone and dial Tony— after a few rings he picks up.
“Everything okay?” He asks.
You sigh, pacing around your apartment.
“We have a problem, a big one.”
You can hear multiple voices in the background, sounding like he’s out to eat.
“Spill it.”
“I.. I just got an email with a clear recording of Stack threatening the complainant.”
It’s completely silent on the other end.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” He replies, his voice raised.
“Unfortunately, I’m not. I’m not sure what to do.”
You can hear the anger slipping through his words.
“Get that motherfucker on the phone, we need to talk!”
You anxiously bite your lip,”I will and I’ll let you know what he says.”
The line disconnects after this.
You feel like burying your head in sand, this couldn’t possibly get any worse. It makes you look bad, like you haven’t been doing your job.
After some hesitation and even more pacing around your apartment, you pick your phone up and text Smoke.
“What’s your address?”
You feel like you could throw up once you see that the text was sent.
He responds back immediately with no questions and just sends his address.
Twenty minutes later, you put your heels on, grab your jacket, and rush downstairs. You get outside to catch a taxi, but you’re met with two blacked out Escalades parked on the sidewalk.
A man approaches you, the driver of one of the vehicles.
“Hi, ma’am. My name’s Jabari and I was sent to pick you bring you to Mr. Moore.”
You’re too stunned to speak, you just follow Jabari to the car and get in the backseat.
The drive is quiet outside of the subtle radio station that was playing. After a little bit, the cars pull up the curb of this fancy building.
Jabari helps you out of the car and you hesitantly walk through the front doors of the building, greeted by the security at the desk.
“The elevator will take you straight to floor twenty where he’s at.” The older gentleman grins.
You’re in awe at the building. It’s beautiful and very detailed. You could only ever dream of owning a penthouse in this building, maybe if you won the lottery.
The elevator dings and the doors open up to you being inside his house.
He’s standing in the kitchen when you walk in, leaning against the counter in a white tank and grey sweatpants.
“Glad you made it.”
You walk towards the kitchen— your eyes scanning the space and view from the ceiling to floor windows.
“What did I tell you two in the very beginning?” You scold him.
He grabs two bottles of water from the fridge, sliding one across the counter to you.
“Tell us about what?” He replies.
“Complete compliance and total fucking honesty.” You remind him, anger fueling your voice.
You push play on the recording that you saved to your recording device.
He listens and doesn’t have much of a reaction, almost like he knew about this the entire time.
“Why wasn’t I told about this?”
“I didn’t think that this would come into play, but if Tony goes through that file I gave you— that won’t matter.”
“Tony is just the figurehead for your case. I do all of the work! Me and only me. The information that I get is vetted and then it goes to him. If you can’t be honest with me and give the information to me, then I can’t properly do my fucking job. If I can’t do my job, then I get in trouble.” You yell.
He walks around the counter, standing closer to you— leaning against it and keeping his focus on your face.
“You won’t get fired or anything like that.”
“How do you know that? Huh?”
“Cause If he fires you, then he’d lose us as clients and we’d follow you wherever you went.”
You lose your train of thought when he says that, all the anger and annoyances leaves your body in an instance.
“I just need to know if there’s anything else, or I’ll recommend that Tony drop your case.”
You turn away to start walking back towards the elevator.
“Have a goodnight Mr. Moore.”
You’re barely able to finish your sentence, before he’s grabbed you and pulled you into him.
He kisses you— deep, slow, and tender. He takes his time.
His thumb brushes your cheek and you melt into him.
You pull away, ending the kiss and it’s the last thing you want to do.
“We.. shouldn’t.” You mumble.
His thumb is still caressing your cheek and his eyes staring into yours.
“Why not?”
Even with a million reasons why, you struggle to say any.
“Use your words.” He coaches.
You feel your heart skip a beat.
“We should keep things professional.”
He pushes you back against the counter, his hands wandering your body. You feel his hand caressing your upper thigh and making it’s way lower and lower.
The heat in your stomach is rising and the wetness is pooling between your legs.
His hand brushes up against your panties and you feel weak.
The way he’s rubbing your thighs and in between your legs, it’s very clear that he’s methodical with how he likes to tease. He wants to drive you crazy before he’s even done much.
He kisses the side of your cheek, sprinkling kisses down your face and onto your neck.
“Tell me to stop, especially if you want this to stay professional.”
You should want this to stay professional, he’s a client for crying out loud. This kind of behavior could cause you to lose your job, but even with that in mind you can’t fix your lips to tell him to stop.
He tears your panty hose, like it’s something he’s done plenty of times before.
His fingers slowly rubbing you through your panties before he pushes them to the side.
He starts kissing you again, his tongue gliding against yours and making your mouth its home.
He slides his fingers in between your folds, not too fast and not too slow— but just right.
Your hand grips the counter and your eyes roll back into your head.
Something so wrong shouldn’t feel so right.
Your chest rising and falling fast, moans spilling out of your mouth and into his as you suck his tongue.
A grunt leaves his mouth.
Your slick coats his fingers as he rubs your clit.
“Fuck.”
His finger slides down from your clit and he slowly presses it inside of you.
You gasp, “Smoke.”
“Mhmm..”
He pumps his finger in and out of you, the knot in your stomach building.
“You’re so needy.” He groans.
Your grip on the counter tightens.
He pulls his finger out, catching you off guard.
It’s glistening in the light, before he sucks it clean.
He brings his fingers close to your mouth, “spit.”
You spit on his fingers, your eyes tracking his every move.
He rubs your clit and then slowly pushes two fingers in.
“Oh, my.. fuck.” You moan.
He pumps his fingers in and out of your pussy, making sure that you’ll never forget him or this.
It feels better than you could’ve ever expected.
You’re barely able to hold on, your toes curling in your heels.
You kiss him on his neck, almost making him lose focus.
A few seconds later, you cum hard— harder than you ever have.
He gives you a quick kiss, pulling his fingers out and directing you to his bathroom.
You stand there in the mirror in disbelief, wondering if you’re dreaming— because there’s no way that just happened.
You pull your ripped panty hose off and toss them in the trash.
When you come out of the bathroom a few minutes later, he’s drinking some water.
“I’m going to go. I’ll make sure to talk to Tony and see if he looked over the stuff in the envelope.”
He tilts his head, “you good?”
You nod and press the button waiting on the elevator.
His drivers drive you home and the entire ride all you can think about is how you’re an idiot. Messing around with a client is wrong and beyond a bad look, you know better— and you shouldn’t have let it happen regardless of how you feel.
It’s been a few days since the interaction between you and Smoke, you haven’t heard from him and at first it bothered you— but now you’ve written him off.
It is what is and you have more important things to worry about anyway.
It’s almost time for your class performance— the concert hall is packed with faculty, family, and friends.
Mr. Chang stands on the stage, facing all of you.
“You guys have come so far and you’ve worked very hard to get to this point. I can’t wait for everyone to see how much time and effort you’ve put into this.”
He gives a thumbs up and the curtains behind him rise.
You take a deep breath, trying not to let the number of people sitting in the building make you nervous.
Two minutes later you guys begin and continue playing for the next hour and fifteen minutes. Everything goes great— there were no mistakes or off key notes. It went just as you’d hoped and it went by so quickly that you couldn’t even tell that you had just performed for an hour.
The crowd gives a standing ovation lasting for ten minutes— a crowd of two hundred people that are blown away and proud of every single one of you.
Once the clapping is done, while you’re still sitting in your seats— a photographer comes on stage and takes a few pictures of you guys. Right after that you’re able to pack your instrument and go into the crowd to meet the people you invited.
You pack your cello, taking it to the back and wiping off your sweaty hands.
The concert hall hums with laughter and voices overlapping.
You walk down towards the seats and meet your friend Lane who runs up and gives you a hug, slightly lifting you off the ground.
“I’m so fucking proud of you, you did fantastic.” She laughs.
You have a smile on your face that no one can take away.
“I was so nervous, I’ve been nervous about this concert since I was picked for it.”
She grabs your hand. “You just saw and experienced why you had no reason to be nervous.”
You guys walk around— mingling with other friends and posing for pictures.
“Are you ready to go?” She subtly whispers in your ear as you smile and wrap up a conversation.
You nod.
You and her walk to the door, laughing and talking about nothing.
Just as you’re about to walk out the door, Smoke walks up to holding a bouquet of pink roses.
“You did good, real good.”
Lane eyes you, “is this him? My god.”
He hands you the roses, “can I talk to you for a minute?”
You hold the roses and roll your eyes, “no.”
Lane nudges you.
“Well, girl— I’m about to go home. I’ll call you later, love ya!”
“Love you too!”
You move around him, continuing to walk towards the exit.
He nudges you, guiding you into the hallway on the side that’s away from the doors.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going home, Smoke—“
“I haven’t heard from you at all since I last seen you and you have the nerve to show up to a concert that I didn’t tell you about or invite you to?”
“I wanted to see you play.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to maintain your composure.
“What do you want from me? You got what you wanted, is that not enough?”
He frowns, his shoulders pulled back.
“What I wanted?”
“You couldn’t even begin to handle what I want.” He scoffs.
“Try me.” You reply.
He grabs your hand and leads you outside to his cars, you climb in and so does he. The driver takes you to his building, opening the door for you.
Smoke grabs your hand and leads you into the building.
“What up, Gerard?”
The security guard smiles, giving him a nod of approval.
As you get in the elevator waiting for his floor, he grabs your roses.
“Take your shoes off by the door and hang your coat on the rack.”
The elevator dings and he walks ahead of you, he sets the flowers on the counter and disappears down the hallway.
You take your shoes and coat off— wandering the kitchen and into the living room.
The view of the city below from his windows is breathtaking. You stare down below at the busy city streets and the people walking.
Smoke calls your name from a room down his hallway.
You walk down the hall— taking your time and admiring the paintings.
You approach the room and the door is cracked. The room is mostly black with hints of red and dimly lit.
He stands in the middle of the room on a red mat, his white shirt slightly unbuttoned and showing off his chest.
“Come here.”
You walk over, eyes scanning the room— but you’re unable to tell what’s what.
“Smoke, what’s the—“
He grabs your chin and presses a quick kiss to your lips.
“Sit on your knees.”
Instead of asking more questions, you do it. Almost like it came naturally.
He walks around you and places a blindfold over your eyes.
All you can hear are his feet shuffling against the floor.
“I’m not your ordinary man.”
You feel a light and ticklish sensation on your arms and neck that makes you squirm, unable to pinpoint what it is or what he’s doing.
“I require submission, full submission when it comes to sex.”
Your breath hitches in your chest. This is far what you were expecting from him.
You feel a cold metal sensation against your right arm.
“I am what’s considered a sadist.”
Your eyes widen under the mask, but before you can say anything he continues to talk.
“Don’t worry, it’s only for pain in a sexual regard. Never anything outside of that and never anything that isn’t agreed upon beforehand.”
You can hear his feet circling around you on the mat and what you presume to be leather tassels moving along your body.
“Stand up.”
You stand up without even thinking twice.
“Take one step forward.”
You take one step.
Giving someone else this kind of control in the bedroom should scare you, but instead you’re interested— turned on even.
His lips brush against yours, his breath warming your cheek.
“If you want anything with me, you have to submit to me.”
“Are you gonna submit to me?—“
You nod, lips slightly parted and heart rate picking up.
He brushes your face with his hand.
“Good.”
He pulls the mask off of your face, scanning your face for any unsavory reaction. You stare back at him with admiration and want.
He grabs your hand and leads you back into the living room, shutting the door behind him.
You walk into the kitchen and see two women in uniform standing there.
“This is Marcielle and Dana, they’re my help around here. They’re like family to me, you never treat them any differently. They speak Spanish and English. They’re here if you need anything when I’m not around.”
He starts adjusting his shirt, buttoning it up.
“I’m about to go to handle some business, I can drop you off or you can stay and make yourself at home.”
You’re still trying to wrap your head around everything that he just did, but you tell him to drop you off.
In the car you’re sitting closer to him this time, trying to figure out where you go from here.
“So, does this make you my man? Or what?” You ask, breaking the silence.
His driver Jabari glances at you in the mirror and raises up the tinted glass window in between the front and back.
“Do you want to be my woman?”
You lick your lips, trying to hide your expression and you let the question linger without a response. This definitely would be a unique start to a relationship.
Jabari pulls up at your apartment, getting out and coming to open your door.
Before you get out of the car, smoke grabs your hand. You look back at him and he pulls you into a kiss, a kiss where he’s letting you know that you’re his.
“I’ll see you later, baby.”
You get out of the car and your stomach is in knots from excitement and disbelief of everything that’s happened. Being with him was just a fantasy, something that in your mind was unattainable.
You walk into your apartment— picking up Binx, who was waiting patiently for you at the door and for you to give her some attention. When you bent down to pick her up, a card fell out of your coat pocket.
A black Amex with a sticky note on it.
“For you.”
You pick up your phone, texting him and figuring that it must be a mistake.
“Did you mean to put a card in my pocket?”
He texts you back immediately.
“Yes. Your own personal card, it has no limit. Get anything you need.”
“Also, buy something nice for dinner tonight.”
You shriek, dancing around your living room while you hold Binx..
This feels like a dream.
You change into another dress in the private dressing room, while Lane stands there admiring herself in the mirror.
“Wait, so let me get this straight— all of this stemmed from the dinner you had with him?”
You adjust the dress, trying to figure out if it’s even worthy of bringing out to show her.
“Yeah, pretty much.”
You zip up your dress and pull the curtain, walking out to show Lane.
“That’s cute on you. It shows off your curves without being too revealing and it’s the perfect length.”
You stare in the mirror, adjusting the dress. “I thought so too.”
“Did you fuck him?” She asks, downing the rest of her champagne.
“Girl, what? Hell no!”
“He only fingered me.” You giggle.
“Oh, my bad! You only let him play with your cat. I’ll try to be more correct next time.” She mocks.
“Thank you, boo.” You reply back with the same level of sarcasm.
“Do you want some more champagne?” She asks, holding the bottle.
You shake your head no and walk back into the dressing room, pulling the curtain behind you.
“I wouldn’t have believed you if I hadn’t seen him for myself. A mysterious rich man, who randomly wants you like this and gives you a card with no limit— sounds made the hell up.” She laughs.
You pull the curtain back, coming out in only your bra and panties.
“Can you hand me that shirt and skirt?”
She walks over grabbing it and handing it to you.
“Damn, did you buy that set for him?”
You pull your shoulders back, a laugh escaping your throat.
“No. I bought this awhile back, I thought it was cute.”
“He will too.” She smirks, doing a humping motion.
You put on the blouse, shaking your head.
“You’re a mess.”
She looks through the dresses and skirts that you have picked out.
“What are you going to do when it’s time to put out?”
You peek your head out from behind the curtain.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know, let’s see— checks notes, oh that thing about you being a virgin.”
You shrug, stepping back behind the curtain and putting the skirt on.
“I don’t like this.” You mumble, looking at yourself in the mirror.
Lane did have a good point, what are you going to do when he wants to have sex? You haven’t quite thought it all the way through and you aren’t too sure that you’d even want him to be your first.
You put your clothes back on, hanging up the pieces that you didn’t want in the dressing room.
You pull the curtain back, walking over to grab the clothes that you have set aside.
“Are you taking this thing between you and him serious?”
“As serious as he’s taking it. This is probably something to kill time for him.”
She nods, “you might be right.”
You get to the counter and the woman rings up your items.
“Your total is $4,567.21”
You almost feel as if you’re sweating bullets when you swipe the card, waiting to see if the purchase is approved or declined.
The transaction goes through, lifting an invisible weight off of your chest.
“Alright, here you go. Your receipt is in the bag.” The woman smiles.
You take the bag and start to walk away, “thank you!”
You both walk into the parking lot, gossiping about some stuff that happened on campus. You hug each other and go your separate ways.
“Let me know how tonight goes.”
“I will!” You shout.
You make one last stop before going home, you get your nails and toes done.
When you finally walk through your apartment door you have a sigh of relief. Putting the bags down and sitting down on your couch..
Your phone dings, a text from Smoke.
“A car will be outside waiting to pick you up in two hours. See you soon.”
You feel tingly inside reading his text, getting excited.
You feed Binx first, then you move on to taking a quick shower, picking out an outfit, putting on a small amount of makeup, and adding a few loose curls to your hair before pinning it up.
By the time you finish up, you’re damn near running late.
You put some more water in Binx’s water fountain and blow the candle in the kitchen out, before walking out the door.
You get downstairs and get in the Escalade that’s waiting for you.
The car smells just like a black ice air freshener.
You send a quick text to Lane, “heading there now. Wish me luck!”
The car ride is about thirty minutes or so.
You arrive there, heading in and seeing that the restaurant is completely empty.
He’s waiting for you at a table in the back.
He stands up, helping you get your coat off and giving you a kiss.
“You smell good and you look good.” He mentions.
“Thank you.”
He already has a bottle of wine at the table waiting for you.
“Where is everyone?” You ask him— looking around for anyone that’s not staff.
He pours wine into your glass, "I rented this out for us. I wanted to spend some time out with you, without the worry of other people.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.”
You take a sip of your wine, your eyes widening. “This is really delicious.”
“I see that you spent almost forty six hundred dollars today.”
You shift in your seat— “I’m sorry, was that too much?”
He laughs. “ Don’t apologize, I told you that you could get whatever you wanted.”
The waiter brings two menus and places them on the table.
“Tell me more about yourself.”
You glance up, holding your menu. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
You laugh, tilting your head and simultaneously looking at the menu.
“Hmm—“
“I’m a middle child and I have three sisters. I graduated high school at the top of my class and I will finish college at the top of my class. I have a black cat named Binx. I’ve been playing the cello since I was a child and I want to travel the world one day.”
He nods, “okay.”
“Pretty straight forward.” He mutters.
You put down your menu after figuring out what you want.
“It’s your turn, tell me about you.”
You follow up with a question before he can figure out where to start.
“Have you done this before?”
“This exact thing, like with you?”
You shake your head yes, sipping on more of your wine.
“No.”
“Are you married? Have you ever been married?”
“No and no.”
“Do you have any kids?”
“No.”
The waiter interrupts the conversation, coming to your order.
You order the stuffed shells and he orders the steak Alfredo.
He turns in his chair.
“There is something we have to go over.”
You raise your brow, putting down your glass.
“What’s that?”
“In order for this to continue, you have to sign an nda with my attorney. I will pay for you to get your own, so that they can be there to go over it with you. The nda is a non- negotiable, it’s something that has been carefully drafted.”
You nod your head, you don’t have much to say or ask about that.
“Are you on birth control?”
You finish your glass of wine and shake your head no.
“Well, that’s a non- negotiable as well. I don’t care what kind you’re on, you just have to be on some form in order for this to continue. If that’s not your cup of tea, that’s fine. I won’t force you, but this will stop right now. The last thing I need is you getting pregnant.”
“Okay.”
The rest of the dinner is kind of a blur, not because you don’t remember it— you were so focused on everything else that was mentioned prior. There’s nothing wrong with the nda, he’s making sure that he protects himself. Birth control and nda? Maybe this is something that’s just fun for him, maybe you did get the wrong impression.
When he drops you off, the car ride was silent. You were really withdrawn, not inherently upset— but you feel like an idiot for thinking it could be a real thing.
You got into your apartment— kicked your shoes off, took off your dress, and got into the bed.
This morning you slept in, you were exhausted from last night and could use the extra sleep. After making oatmeal and feeding Binx, you sit on the couch and catch up on some tv.
Your phone dings.
“You’ll be picked up at three to meet my attorney and your attorney will be waiting for you there. I won’t be there, but after that I’d like for you to come over. If you want.”
You read it and set your phone back down beside you, continuing to eat your oatmeal.
You spend the next few hours just laying there on the couch, watching tv as the hours go by.
At two, you get up to take a quick shower and to get ready. You almost feel like bailing on the meeting altogether, but you don’t.
Once you’re dropped off at the building, you go inside to the third floor where you’re greeted by your attorney— Mrs. Mathers.
She shakes your hand.
“Nice to meet you. I’m here to represent you and your interests, although this nda is a non- negotiable I’m here to make sure that it’s reasonable and that you’re not forced to sign.”
“Thank you, I wasn’t sure how this would work.” You point out.
“If you do not agree to the terms today, then it’s up to you and Mr. Moore to figure out the best course of action and where to go from here.”
Both of you walk into the room and sit at the table with his attorney, Mr. Dempsey.
“I’m here today to go over the non disclosure agreement that Mr. Elijah Moore is presenting you with.”
You fidget with your rings, your nervousness getting the best of you.
“Part of this agreement is acknowledging the kind of private information that you wouldn’t be allowed to share.”
He passes you the papers for you to look at and read as he goes down the list.
He sits up in his seat, coughing to clear his throat before speaking.
“With this agreement— you will not be allowed to disclose the following things to other parties without his approval and if you don’t get his approval, then you cannot share this information.”
You nod as your attorney takes the papers, flipping through them.
“You cannot disclose how much Mr. Moore makes, how much money you receive from him, or when you receive it from him. You also cannot disclose his address or any addresses of any properties he owns.”
He flips the page.
“You may not disclose anything related to his sexual behaviors, desires, or traits. You may not disclose any disparaging remarks about him on the internet and in general, if you two were to ever break up.”
“You also cannot disclose any information about the company that he keeps or his personal family business.”
Mr. Dempsey passes you a pen.
You turn to your attorney, waiting to hear anything she has to say.
“In my opinion I’d say that this is a pretty standard agreement, I figured it would be worse. Do you have any questions about it?”
You tug at the sleeves of your shirt, “no. I’m willing to sign it.”
Mr. Dempsey puts another contract on the table.
“This is the second part of the contract that is not a non disclosure agreement, this is just a simple contract agreement over the rules of this relationship.”
He slides a copy to you and Ms. Mathers.
“In this agreement, you acknowledge that you will get on birth control within thirty days of signing this. You also acknowledge that Mr. Moore has talked to you about this matter before coming here.”
“That’s interesting.” Your attorney mumbles to herself.
“If you sign this agreement and do not get on birth control within the allotted time and you were fall pregnant— you acknowledge that Mr. Moore would terminate the relationship with you and that he would terminate his parental rights.”
“Wow, what a man.” Ms. Mather mutters.
“By signing this contract you acknowledge and agree that if Mr. Moore was to buy you a property, vehicle, or company in the duration of this relationship — that those assets would be returned to him if the relationship is terminated.”
“You also acknowledge and agree that you are not entitled to any of Mr. Moore's assets should this relationship be terminated. You would leave with what you came with.”
“This last part is that by signing this contract that you acknowledge and agree, that your financial obligations are merely your own. If Mr. Moore decides to give you any money towards them, then that is a gift and nothing more. You acknowledge that if the relationship were terminated, then it is on you to maintain those obligations.”
Your jaw tenses as Mr. Dempsey finishes reading.
You get a few minutes to deliberate with your attorney, discussing the details and you ultimately agree to sign the nda and the contract.
Once the meeting is finished, you head outside and get into the car— riding to Smoke’s place.
Once you get to his building and get inside, you find him staring out the window— finishing up a phone call.
He wraps it up pretty quickly and approaches you, going in for a hug— but you move.
He frowns, “what’s wrong?”
“I went to the meeting with your attorney, that’s what’s wrong.”
“You’re a fucking liar! There’s no way in hell that you haven’t done this before, based off of the contracts and the wording of them in general. All of this is one big fucking exchange for you.”
His eyes widen, he stands there with his hands in his pockets.
“Pregnancy clauses and bullshit, none of this is about finding a potential solid relationship. It’s an arrangement and I was too stupid to see it.” You yell.
His brow raises, “you done?”
Your chest rises and falls fast, studying his reaction— but he doesn’t have much of one.
He walks behind you and helps you take your coat off, placing it on the hook by the elevator.
“Take your shoes off.” He demands.
You step out of them, no longer angry— but now anxious based on his reaction.
He walks to the coffee table, grabbing the remote that adjusts the blinds. The blinds start coming down, making it dark in the room.
“Smoke, I..”
He comes behind you and places a blindfold on your eyes.
“Bend over, hands spread out on the counter. Keep your legs apart.”
“Elijah?”
He walks past you.
“I won’t tell you again.”
You feel a knot in your stomach, based on his tone and how he didn’t take what you said to him lightly.
You can only hear his movement and have no idea what he’s doing.
He comes back behind you, making you jump.
He pulls your skirt down, exposing your brown lace panties.
You shift while standing there, still keeping your palms on the counter and feet spread apart.
He pulls your panties down, slowly and precisely.
You can feel a warm liquid running down your pussy and his finger gently rubbing it in.
You feel something like metal and cold pressed against your clit, he slowly pulls your panties back up— trapping it there.
It starts to vibrate, your mouth falls open from the surprise of it and you want to move your feet so badly.
“Shit.” You moan.
With a quickness you feel a radiating pain of something slapping your ass.
“Don’t you move them feet or hands.”
Between the pain and pleasure, you want to scream— but not in a bad way.
“What was it you were saying? Huh?—“
“I’m a fucking liar?”
You hear the crack of whatever it is, hitting your ass again.
The vibration against your clit makes your legs tremble too on top of everything else.
He bends down kissing your cheek, “I never lied to you, baby.”
Your ass bounces from him hitting again.
You grit your teeth through the pain and pleasure.
“Fuck.” You moan.
“Both contracts are put in place for my security. Not because I’ve had relationships like this one before. You’d be surprised at the lengths that people would go to in order to have what they think you might have.”
The knot in your stomach building and tears of overstimulation painting your cheeks.
He leans down looking at you, the tears running down your cheek.
“Are you crying?”
You nod your head, moans still falling from your mouth.
“Good.”
Another smack on your ass.
“I don’t like being accused of something that I was honest about from the beginning. You could’ve handled it so much better.”
The vibration turns up, higher than it was.
Despite it feeling good, you’re really starting to regret having opened your mouth.
“This feels so good.” You mumble.
“I’m going to—“
He pulls your panties down and takes the vibrator, sliding your panties back up.
You try looking around in confusion, you were so close.
“Stand up.”
You stand up slowly.
“Turn around towards my voice.”
He walks up kissing you passionately, his hand gripping your ass.
“You don’t get rewarded for being wrong.”
He pulls your blindfold off and heads into the other room.
You stand there an overstimulated mess— your cheeks wet from crying and your legs still shaking.
You grab your skirt while he’s in the other room and put it back on.
He comes back a few minutes later, you standing by the window and drinking some water.
“Do you want to stay the night?” He asks.
You nod your head yes.
He wraps his arms around you, placing a kiss on your forehead.
You walk over to the couch, sitting down and placing your glass on the coffee table.
“What made you want this with me?” You ask, cutting straight to the chase.
He walks to the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water.
“You interested me, from the very beginning. I was attracted to you in general, but the dinner solidified my attraction and interest.”
He walks back over, sitting on the couch with you.
“Is this too much for you?” He questions.
You stare at the wall, looking at the paintings.
“It’s not too much, it’s just different. Maybe, because it feels like more of an arrangement than anything.”
“How so?” He asks, his interest piqued.
“I mean, you stopped talking to me after you fingered me— because I couldn’t handle you, in your own words. It wasn’t because you wanted to slow things down or because of the age gap, it was because of your sexual desires.”
He sips some of his water, placing the glass on the table.
“It wasn’t inherently sexual. What I showed you was part of me, one of the biggest parts— the part that can matter the most and everything else comes after that.”
“What I want in the bedroom can only be fulfilled by certain individuals and I’d never want to jump into anything without mentioning it.”
You nod, adjusting on the couch so that you’re facing him.
“I understand that and that’s not a part that scares me away or has questions. It was the contracts and that level of control that it seems you have outside of the bedroom. It’s just different.”
He scoots over on the couch, closer to you.
He grabs your hands.
“Hey, when I say that this isn’t an arrangement— I mean that. It’s different for me too and there isn’t any shame in saying that. The sexual attraction is through the roof, but I want you to see other parts of me as well.”
You guys lay on the couch together for a while, just cuddling and talking about nothing. A different kind of vulnerability for both of you, a much needed change in pace.
“Do you want to order pizza?”
Your fingers trace his chest, “that sounds good— but only if it’s from Marciano’s on park avenue.”
He laughs, his hand rubbing your arm.
“Great minds think alike.”
He gets off the couch, going to grab his phone to order pizza and you turn on the tv to kill time.
He comes back a few minutes later, rubbing his hands together.
“I got the food ordered, it should be here in a bit. What are we watching, baby?”
“The family that preys. I’ve never seen it and it comes on in a few minutes.”
He sits down beside you, “I’ve never seen it either.”
The pizza arrives about forty minutes later and gives you two a much needed break from the emotional rollercoaster of a movie.
You both sit on the stools at the counter, eating your pizza.
“Do you travel a lot?” You ask.
He wipes the corner of his mouth, nodding.
“Do I?” He laughs.
“Do you?”
“No, not really. School takes priority and I also don’t like the idea of traveling alone.”
“Well, If you did ever travel anywhere— where’s the first place you’d want to go?”
You finish chewing on your slice of pizza and you sit there thinking.
“I’d like to go skiing in Colorado. I’ve been before but that was years ago.”
“Skiing, hmm. I see you have more skills that I’m hearing about—“
“What else do you do?”
You grab another napkin, wiping your hands.
“I’m really good at soccer and archery. I was on both teams in high school.”
He turns in his seat, looking at you with shock.
“Archery and soccer? I’m gonna need you to show me that.” He jokes.
“What are your long-term goals?” You pry.
“Big ones or small ones?”
You shrug, “both.”
He taps his fingers on the counter.
“My biggest goal overall is that I want to focus more on myself. I’ve always been business oriented and focused since I was young, something my mother instilled in me. I’m older now and I want more out of life than worrying about work or making money.”
You walk over the sink, rinsing your plate off and washing your hands.
“Do you think that wanting more out of life is in connection with wanting to settle down or just having more time to yourself without thinking of work?”
You turn facing him, leaning up against the counter.
“Settling down, a wife and children wasn’t exactly what I was ever looking for. For the longest, I struggled with making romantic connections outside of what fulfilled my desires. I’ve just within the last two years gotten over that and want something more than sex.”
You listen to what he’s saying and give him your undivided attention— but you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t have questions.
For a few hours after that, y’all continue watching movies before he eventually invites you into his bedroom to go to sleep.
His bedroom is huge— almost bigger than your damn apartment. The room is clean, so clean that you could probably eat off the floor.
Dim, ambient lighting.
Black, silk sheets on his bed.
Everything is organized to an extraordinary degree.
“Babe, I don’t have anything to sleep in.”
He scratches his brow, “I forgot about that.”
He walks into his closet and comes back out, handing you a Bone Thugs- N- Harmony shirt.
“You can sleep in this.”
You pull your blouse off— folding it and placing it in his chair along with your skirt.
He sits on the edge of the bed, biting his lip and admiring you.
“Come here, baby.”
You walk over to him, standing in front of him and slowly straddling his lap.
His hands rubbing your thighs and ass.
“You look so good in this set.”
He kisses your neck and sprinkles them down your chest.
You can feel the bulge in his sweatpants growing.
You slide off his lap and onto your knees.
“Baby?”
“Shh. Let me be in control of this.” You put your hand to his lips and slowly push him back.
Your heart is racing as you pull his sweatpants down. Your hand rubbing over his dick in his boxers, teasing him.
You slowly pull his boxers down, his dick springing free.
You sit there in awe, it's way bigger than you expected and way bigger than you’d want to take for your first time.
His tip glistens with precum coating it.
You wrap your hand around it, barely able to with how thick it is.
Your tongue swipes his slit, licking up the precum and you see his legs twitch.
You pump his dick a few times, a heat filling your stomach from how much this turns you on.
A few groans leave his mouth as you slowly stroke him.
Spit fills your mouth from the excitement of sucking his dick.
You push the tip into your mouth, spit dripping down his as you try pushing every inch down your throat.
You remember the trick Lane told you about, so you breathe through your nose to keep from gagging.
“Shit.” Smoke grunts.
You bring your head back up, rubbing the spit around.
You start sucking his dick, your head slowly bobbing up and down.
Smoke makes you stop, sitting up.
“Damn, you’re making a mess baby.”
You keep sucking, your tongue trailing the veins.
“Fuck.” He grunts.
“Baby, is it okay if I try something different?”
You nod.
He places his hands on both sides of your head, thrusting his dick into the back of your throat.
He throat fucks you, his moans filling the air.
Spit drips down your chin and onto your chest.
You gag a few times, but you’re surprisingly good at keeping it under wraps.
“You look so fucking good, your mouth full of my dick.”
Hearing him grunt, moan, and groan from the pleasure of fucking your mouth has you soaked.
He pulls out abruptly, stroking his spit covered dick.
“Open for me.”
You open your mouth, sticking your tongue out.
“Mhmm.”
He lays the tip on your tongue, eyes rolling back as he paints it white.
You keep eye contact with him, closing your mouth and swallowing.
He walks away, grabbing a towel and bringing it over to you.
You wipe your mouth and chest.
“I’m going to go take a shower. Do you want to join me?”
He winks, pulling his boxers up.
“Of course.”
He grabs your hand, walking you into his bathroom.
The bathroom isn’t far from the size of the bedroom, a dream bathroom for you.
The floors are heated, there’s a bathtub and a huge walk-in shower with two heads.
The windows are tinted with an amazing view of the city and people below.
He turns the shower on, letting it heat up.
“Are the floors too warm for you? I can adjust the temperature.”
You laugh, “that’s something I never thought I’d hear.”
He walks over to you, wrapping his arms around you as you stare out the window.
“This is a view that I could get used to.”
You both get into the shower both using the separate heads. At first you're nervous about him seeing you naked, but the way he gets hard all over again— you realize that you were nervous for nothing.
You lather your body in soap, humming a song that you heard earlier on the radio.
The water runs over your body, the soap washing down the drain.
You turn to see Smoke watching you and admiring you from his side.
“You got me feeling a way that I haven’t felt before.” He admits.
You start to smirk, “that’s just the sexual aspect.”
He walks over to you, placing his hands on your waist.
“I mean it, though. You’re different.”
“Am I?”
He nods.
You pull him close, your lips crashing into his.
You pull away before getting too carried away, “let’s finish showering. We need to get in the bed.”
Y’all finish up the shower— you put on the shirt he gave you and make your way back into the bedroom, Smoke following right behind you.
Y’all cuddle in the bed and exchange a few words, but it doesn’t take long before you’re asleep with your head on his chest and lightly snoring.
˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗
reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated.
Saturday afternoon in a Negro beer and juke joint. Clarksdale, Mississippi Delta, November 1939.
Photos by Marion Post Wolcott, Farm Security Administration/Office of War Information.
You will taste the sweet pain of death. We will make beautiful music together.
Now that Sinners is out on streaming there are going to be people who see That Scene for the first time on a smartphone screen and listen to That Song through tinny phone speakers and they are going to have no idea what they’re missing. I genuinely feel sorry for them.
𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐄𝐦 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤~ 𝐁𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐰 ˣ 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐏𝐨𝐜!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
𝐰𝐜:𝟏𝐤
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐨’𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟!, 𝐀 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐬, 𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐭𝐬, 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐑𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐦.
𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬!
The bell above the door let out a tired jingle when you stepped inside, the late-summer heat clingin’ to your dress like sweat-soaked cotton. The air was thick with the scent of flour, kerosene, and peaches just on the edge of turnin’. It was quiet in the store, ‘cept for the lazy buzz of a fan spinnin’ slow in the back.
Bo glanced up from the counter, sleeves rolled to his elbows, sweat dark at his collar. When he saw you, that crooked smile of his bloomed—soft and familiar, the kind that still made your chest ache in a good way, even after all these years.
“Well now,” he said, voice smooth as creek water, “look what the sun dragged in.”
You held up the lunch pail. “You forgot your food. Again. Thought I’d bring it by before you shriveled up from pride.”
He came ‘round the counter and kissed your cheek, lingerin’ a breath longer than polite. “I’m a lucky man,” he said.
“You always say that when you forget somethin’.”
He popped the lid and peered inside. “Catfish and cornbread? You tryin’ to make me marry you twice?”
You smirked. “Ain’t nobody else would put up with you.”
The two of you laughed, like you always did. Like the world outside them yellow-painted walls couldn’t touch what y’all had built. And maybe it couldn’t—least not at first.
It had started ten years ago, when Bo Chow walked into your cousins’ juke joint with a stack of flyers for a little grocery he was settin’ up. You were on stage singin’ “Ain’t Misbehavin’,” and from the moment his eyes found yours, he never looked away. Came back three nights straight before he finally got the nerve to speak, offerin’ you lemon soda and red bean cake like it was a treasure.
Folks talked. Lord, did they. Some just whispered. Others spat their thoughts out loud. It wasn’t proper, not in 1932 Mississippi—a Chinese man and a Black woman buildin’ somethin’ sweet outta the cracked earth.
But Bo, he didn’t flinch. When he asked you to marry him, he did it loud, right there in front of the whole congregation after church one Sunday. Held your hand like it was his lifeline, dared anyone to tell him he was wrong.
He painted the shelves sunflower yellow for you. Let you spin Billie Holiday records while you stocked goods. Framed your picture behind the register, the one where you were smilin’ real big with lipstick the color of ripe cherries.
But time changes things.
First came the looks. The kind that stick to your back, crawl up your neck. When you and Bo walked through town hand-in-hand, or when folks spotted you behind the counter like you belonged there. Some white folks stopped comin’ in altogether. Others came more often, just to see, to whisper.
Then came the silences—sharper than any word. Bo’s family never said nothin’ unkind, but they didn’t say much at all. His mama served you dinner with eyes glued to her plate. And when conversation got serious, the room slipped into Cantonese like you was never meant to understand.
You never blamed Bo. Not once. But some nights, when the store was locked and the lights were low, a question would settle on your chest: Was love enough to hold up against a world built to break it down?
You started shrinkin’. Bit by bit. Skipped the town meetings. Wore plain browns instead of the reds he said lit up your skin. Kept your curls pinned back tight. Stopped singin’ when strangers were near.
Then one night, Bo found you sittin’ out back on the stoop, apron still tied at your waist, fingers twistin’ together like they were tryin’ to pray.
“Y/N,” he said, soft.
You didn’t turn. Just stared at the road, dusty and endless.
He sat beside you without a word, hands restin’ on his knees, the air thick with things unsaid.
“Ever wonder if life’d be simpler if you’d picked someone else?” you asked, barely louder than the wind.
Bo turned to you slow. “Where’s that comin’ from?”
You shrugged. “Somebody who don’t make folks stare. Someone your mama could talk to. Someone who don’t weigh on you every time you walk into a room.”
He didn’t say nothin’ at first. Let the silence sit a while.
“I know you love me,” you whispered. “But I been feelin’ like lovin’ me costs you too much.”
He reached for your hand, held it like glass. “You remember that night at the juke joint? You had a yellow scarf in your hair and a song that made the room hush. I ain’t never believed in fate till that moment.”
You let out a little laugh. “I was just tryna finish my set.”
“And you finished me,” he said, serious now. “Right then and there.”
He turned, took both your hands. “Y/N, I didn’t choose you for ease. I chose you ‘cause you made life real. You made it ours. You think I care what people say? Let ‘em talk. Let ‘em choke on it. I’d walk through this world a hundred times over, long as you walkin’ beside me.”
Your eyes stung. He saw it. Brushed your cheek with his thumb.
“I don’t want quiet. I don’t want small. I want you. Loud and wild and stubborn and singin’ like the trees are listenin’. You’re not a burden, baby. You’re the reason I breathe.”
You leaned into him, and he pulled you close like he meant to shield you from the whole world.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next morning, Bo cleaned the store window and taped up a new photograph—one of the two of you on your last anniversary, arms wrapped around each other, grinnin’ like you had no idea what the world thought.
People stared, sure as sunrise. Some smiled. Some turned away.
Didn’t matter.
A white man came in later that week, looked at the photo, then at Bo. “That your wife?”
Bo didn’t even blink. “Damn right she is. Best part of my life.”
And behind the counter, where no one else could see, you touched your heart—steady, strong—holdin’ that truth close like it was a promise that couldn’t be broken.
On the set of Sinners
Credit: momoney_mafia
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐌 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒.
A lot of people (white) at that really pay attention to Mary and Remmick from Sinners because of their whiteness. Even though we know mary’s backstory/background, even when she literally tells Stack she didn’t want to be white but wanted to be with “him.” Not that I’m ignoring her whiteness as an actress but I also notice that (white) people deliberately ignore Mary’s background/story. Then with Remmick he’s the “perfect” villain, which works out when you pair it with him being a white man. Plus we’re not even introduced to those two in like what? The forty minute mark or close to that? We have characters like Annie, the twins, SAMMIE who is the main protagonist in this movie that deserve more attention and recognition. Of course, we black people, we give them that cause their stories are relatable, even if they aren’t. The only relatability white people have to Remmick and Mary IS their whiteness.
This also goes into how Southern Gothic and the influence Black Americans have on it continue to be disregarded, and there is a disregard for their hard work. Southern Black Spirituality is Southern Gothic, no matter how many people don’t include it in the conversation. Which is why Annie is such an important character in that movie, she is, and including Sammie; the heart of the movie.
