Old Times

(this story was written over about 4 days on and off, and has yet to be edited properly. I look forward to your feedback as I'd like to go a little further with this pairing, but not sure if I have the balance right. enjoy. I hope)

Sitting in the restaurant, Marisa sipped from a glass of iced water and flicked a glance at the clock projected on the back wall. She has been waiting for half an hour already, and it would appear as if her boyfriend had yet again stood her up. It wasn't as if this was unexpected, or even a mild surprise. The prick was well practised in this particular instance.

Sighing softly, she took her mobile from her handbag and dialled. Idly rattling her painted nails on the table top, she sat back and listened to the ring tone dial through to the voice message.

"Hi Matt. It's Marisa. I'm sat in the restaurant and you are late, yet again. Thought you'd like to know you are dumped. Ciao," she added sarcastically, emulating his favourite saying.

Turning off her phone, she laid the purse on the chair beside her and waved to the waiter. He came over, his pad open ready for her order. Choosing something decadent from the menu, she sat back and looked around the restaurant. It wasn't particularly busy, but she noted one or two quickly averted gazes from the neighbouring table. So they'd heard. Big deal.

Settling back in the chair, she idly played with the knife, spinning it on the highly polished glass surface as she waited for her food to be delivered from the kitchen. Looking around once more, she caught the gaze of a man at a small table at the rear of the room, his dark eyes holding hers without any embarrassment. When he knew he had he attention he issued a small smile and an eye roll as he looked pointedly at his watch. A fellow stood-up-ee, apparently.

Pausing for a second, Marisa decided company was preferable tonight. Waving her hand to the empty chair opposite she smiled a friendly invitation. He raised his eyebrows at her; she nodded again, so he vacated his table and joined her.

Pulling up the chair, he draped his jacket over the seat where her purse lay and rested his arms on the table. Stretching out a hand he shook hers; warm palms touching softly.

"I'm Ross," he said softly, his voice deep and warm.

"Marisa," she replied. Her stomach flipped at his voice, a soft burr of a scots accent curling his words. She'd always liked the soft lowlands accent.

"Well Marisa, it appears as though we've both been left high and dry this evening," he commented as he caught a waiters eye to let him know he had moved tables. "Your husband?"

"Ex-boyfriend," she corrected as she sipped the water. She took the opportunity to give Ross a head to toe look. He had to be a good 20 years older than her at the very least, so that put him early 50's. He looked in good shape, his arms obviously still holding muscle tone under his shirt, and no sign yet of middle aged spread. His face was softly lined with laughter around the eyes, nose and mouth, but other than that it showed little strain of time passed. And bright green eyes glittered at her as he sat passively under her scrutiny.

"Seen everything?" he asked with a quirk of the mouth, amused by her forthright assessment.

"Yes thanks," she said with a grin. "Not bad at all."

"Why thank you ma'am," he laughed. "My turn now." Marisa sat relaxed in her chair as he studied her closely from the top of her head down. His gaze flittered across her face, lingering a second on her mouth before it moved down, raking across her breasts pushed high in the bra and down to where he could glimpse the curve of her knee as she sat with her legs crossed to the side. "Impressive," he finally said, his accent rolling the word out.

She blushed a little, but was saved by the arrival of the waiter with their respective meals. Thanking him as he set the plates down, Marisa drew up her chair properly and laid her napkin over her lap. As she settled, her knee brushed his under the table. Ross looked up with a slight quizzical frown as she gasped softly at the contact. She hadn't meant to gasp, but she had received a little static charge from him as they touched. It hadn't been unpleasant, in fact it was the reverse, but it had taken her by surprise.

Concentrating on her food, Marisa glanced up to study her dinner companion as he seemed to share his attention between eating and scanning the surrounding diners. She was surprised to find she found him rather attractive, never having been one for older men. Her friends had laughing referred to her recently as a cougar, as Matt had been 5 years her junior. Admittedly she'd been using him for sex and little else, but cougar was a bit harsh. He was her first younger man.

She'd almost always gone for a man who was a couple of years older than herself. But looking at Ross she was strongly attracted to those glittering green eyes and the way the skin crinkled at the corner when he smiled. It also helped he seemed to have an athletic build under that sharp white shirt.

Ross turned his head back and looked at her as she appraised him again. He raised an eyebrow as he reached for a glass of wine.

"You like what you see?" he asked as he pushed aside his plate and leaned back to watch her.

Marisa shrugged as she finished the last morsel and pushed her plate to join his. "I've seen worse," she said casually.

Ross snorted as he thanked the waiter who came to clear the table. "I usually get a better response than that," he admitted ruefully.

"Oh?" Marisa emulated his raised eyebrows as she sipped at her water. "You get lots of offers then?"

"Usually off money grabbers," he laughed. "Which I refuse, naturally. I tend to prefer my women with a brain not just a bust."

"Glad to hear it." Nodding to the waiter who offered the dessert menu, she flipped it open and scanned down the list. Normally dessert was not part of her meals as it did not agree with her hips, but tonight she was feeling decadent in a way that was not usual. Choosing a chocolate fudge cake, she offered Ross the menu. He waved it away and asked for coffee instead.

"Should I feel guilty that I am eating cake and you are not?" Marisa asked a teasing hint in her voice.

Ross chuckled as he accepted the pot of coffee and a small side plate with mints on it. "Not at all lass," he purred. "But I'm borderline diabetic, and the doctor says I'm to stay away from the sweets for a while until it's under control again."

"Harsh," she sympathised. Smiling happily as the plate was set before her; she savoured the scent of warm chocolate and iced vanilla. Picking up the spoon, she paused and offered him a taste.

"That would be too cruel right now," he assured her as he refused the offer. "One spoon is too much, and two is too many. You enjoy it; you look as if you need some meat on you."

Marisa snorted at the comment. She fought her cravings hard to maintain a half way decent figure and now she was being told she was too thin. If only it were that simple. Relishing the dessert, she scooped up the last of the cake and closed her eyes to revel in the rich chocolate as it melted in her mouth and slipped down her throat.

"Now there's a look I wouldn't mind seeing again," Ross commented as he watched her in interest. "Do you always look like that when you are in ecstasy?"

Marisa opened her eyes and carefully wiped the last trace of chocolate from her lips. She paused for a second before sucking it from her finger, lingering over the moment as she held his gaze. She was rewarded by a widening of his eyes before they narrowed in calculation. Oh yes, it felt good to act the brazen woman just once. And the idea that was circling at the back of her mind equally thrilled and horrified her.

"I always look like that," she finally said, aware of his gaze on her lips. "What do you look like?" In for a penny, in for a pound, she decided privately.

"I wouldn't know," he answered, his voice deepening as he spoke softly. "I've never been in to mirrors."

Stroking the tip of her finger around the rim of her glass, Marisa thought fast over the plans she had had for the weekend. Since she had been stood up they were all out of the window. So what the hell, it was Friday night and she was single. "I wouldn't mind finding out," she said, her chin raising a fraction in defiance as her voice quivered slightly.

Sipping his coffee, Ross watched her closely, the calculations and decision flittering through his eyes as he studied her intently. Setting down his empty cup, he selected a small mint from the plate and caught the waiter's eye. Almost immediately the bill was presented and he offered a platinum card.

"Let me pay for my own," Marisa said quickly, reaching for her purse.

"Let's call it gentleman's prerogative on a first date," Ross explained as he punched in his card number and took the receipt. "You can pay for the next one."

"Next one?" Marisa asked as the waiter threw her a knowing smile and slipped away.

"Most definitely," Ross agreed as he shrugged on his jacket, and then held her wrap as she slipped it on. "I want to explore that look of the cat that got the cream several times at least. And I do prefer to wine and dine a lady first."

Slanting him a look, Marisa accepted the umbrella she had left at the front door before exiting into the autumn evening. Rain drifted down past the street lamps highlighting the front of the restaurant. Rummaging in her handbag, she fumbled for her keys before she dared raise her eyes to Ross again as he waited patiently beside her, a calm expression on his handsome face. She had never done this before. Never had a one night stand or picked up a stranger for sex. She was nervous as hell with no idea what to do. Her place or his? Was that safe? Maybe they should go to a hotel, but the cost would be high.

"You look worried lass," Ross said softly as he looped her hand through his arm and turned towards the car park. "Second thoughts?"

"Many," she admitted quietly. "I've not done this before."

He chuckled as he took a key from his pocket and pressed it. "Neither have I," he admitted. "I usually woo a lady before I take her to bed."

"What changed?" she asked. Looking at the car that had responded to his key, she took in the high end Mercedes that crouched low in the corner.

"A beautiful young lady with more sex appeal than Aphrodite who had been stood up by a prick," Ross said simply. "The main question is where do we go? I'm not one for furtive fumbling in a car, nor do I think you want to take me back to yours. And mine is currently inhabited by a cousin and his children whilst they house search."

"Oh." Marisa played with her car keys as she thought this was the perfect get out clause. No, she wasn't going to back off now. Everything had always been about others; each boyfriend had his own way. She did this, that and the other to please them, and never taken any delight for herself. Now here was a rich, very attractive older man who had just told her he was attracted to her. So what the hell, let's do it.

"My place is a tip," she admitted. "Only just moved in so packing boxes everywhere right now."

"So it's a hotel then," he mused. Looking up at the rain as it fell; he closed his eyes for a second and seemed to enjoy the cool water on his face. "I know the perfect place. Used it recently after a rather drunken business dinner. If I lead the way do you want to follow?"

"I guess," she agreed, then paused. "How much have you had to drink tonight?"

"A little more than I should have done," he admitted glibly.

"Then I'll drive and you'll direct." Narrowing her eyes, she dared him to argue. Instead he shrugged and turned on the alarm again. "Which is your car?"

She winced as she walked over to a ten year old Focus. It was in very good condition and could still take on most cars on the road, but the Mercedes it was not.

"Very cute," he said as he quickly ran a hand up the red metallic bonnet and to the passenger door. "I've been thinking of getting one of these as a run around."

"What's wrong with the Merc?" Marisa asked as she popped the locks and they slid in. She quickly folded her umbrella and unceremoniously shoved it down behind her seat. Slipping off her heels, she tucked them in the footwell behind his seat, leaning over to do so. She closed her eyes as her breast brushed against his arm, her nipple instantly hardening at the touch. Ross sucked in his breath and held still as she slowly withdrew.

"Now that felt nice," he finally said as he brushed his hand over hers. "In answer to the Merc question, it's too petrol hungry for my liking these days. It's really only for show for business associates."

Marisa noticed he sounded strained as he talked idly about cars. Slanting him a glance as she looked both ways to pull out of the car park, she could see his cheeks were flushed a little. Maybe he was affected as she was and not the calm businessman he was portraying. Whichever it was the thought of him being flustered by her presence sent a little curl of heat through her stomach and directly into her core. The thought was making her wet.

"Which way?" she asked to cover her momentary confusion.

"Right," he said after a quick think. "We're heading out to the country a little. A nice hotel; not huge but very comfortable."

Marisa nodded and settled down to driving, her thoughts focused on her stocking clad feet on the pedals as she moved quickly through the gears. She hated driving, detested the cramped roads and the inconsiderate oafs behind the other wheels, but at night, and when it was soft rain like this she could relax and enjoy it. Empty roads and darkness held a call for her.

Following his directions in silence, she kept her eyes on the road and her hands on the wheel as he reached over. He tentatively laid his hand on her knee and left it there, his palm oozing warmth onto her cool skin. Marisa enjoyed the touch, neither offensive nor sexual in its way: it was just warmth and gentleness.

Winding through country lanes, she concentrated on the way, ignoring the heat in her stomach and the wetness on her thighs. As the car warmed she could smell the first hint of musk on the air. He must have been able to smell her scent too, but he showed no sign of it. As they travelled he talked of safe subjects, cars and holidays and hobbies. Marisa answered as best she could, but was more than content to listen to him talk, his accent and warm deep voice throbbing through her and stoking her arousal.

"Turn in here," he suddenly said as they followed the cone of light down a narrow country lane, hedgerows rising up on either side to corral them along.

"The Mansion House?" Marisa asked in surprise as she turned between gilded iron gates. "I can't afford this!"

"I can," he said with a warm smile. "My treat. You can pay for a B&B next time."

"This mythical second date is already working out at more than I can afford," she grumbled as the winding drive spread out before them, carefully planted mature trees shielding them from the road.

Ross chuckled softly. Removing his hand, he twisted around to grab her shoes for her. Marisa missed the warm soft touch on her knee, but kept it to herself as she negotiated the parkland in the drive up to the warm lights of the hotel. Pulling up into a parking place near to the front door, she turned off the engine and leaned forward to look up. The magnificent Georgian frontage dominated the whole parkland. Glancing around she could not see any additional modern wings.

"Where are all the rooms?" she asked.

"There's only a dozen," Ross explained as he opened the door. Slipping out he shut it securely then came around the car to her side. Opening the door, he proffered her shoes and waited as she slipped them on. Taking her hand, he drew her out to his side then closed the door. Waiting for the beep of the alarm, he again took her arm through his and casually led the way to the front entrance. "I believe they decided on quality over quantity when the family made the decision to make this into a hotel. It was done purely to save the estate from ruin, but I think they've made themselves rather...wealthy, I think the term would be. Rock stars and royalty use it to escape the cameras."

"Wouldn't stop a paparazzi," Marisa said as she looked up at the massive portico that shielded the doors.

"It does when they employ rather aggressive security guards on the grounds," he chuckled. "After you." Holding open the heavy door, he stepped aside as she slipped past. Closing his eyes, he inhaled the scent of her perfume, and the musk that hung around her. Never before had he felt such a visceral attraction to a woman. It was taking every ounce of his mythical self-control to prevent himself from dragging her over the bonnet of her car and screwing her right there for all to see.

He had never had a problem finding a woman to share his bed. He had even tried marriage briefly before he'd decided that he could live without it. But this woman, the instant he had set eyes on her in the restaurant his whole body had tightened in awareness. He had grown hard almost immediately and only will power had kept it from showing all night. The touch of his hand on her knee the whole drive here had made him aware of just how much he wanted her in his bed. And hopefully in his life for some time at least.

Yet he was aware of just how nervous she was, how unsure of an illicit liaison with a total stranger. She had not come across as the type to sleep around, so he had been pleasantly surprised when she had responded to his overtures.

As she moved past, he took in the expanse of back and her well curved backside in the clinging dress. God he loved his women with curves, never having liked this craze for skinny to the point of looking like a boy. He loved to feel the soft flesh under his body, in his hands and around his cock. And Marisa was everything he desired.

Closing the door with a soft thud, he again took her arm and led her to the imposing mahogany library desk that was being used as the reception. The smartly dressed young man seated there greeted them with a warm smile as he looked from one to the other. In his eyes Ross could see the swift calculation, and then the mental shrug of having seen it all many times before.

"May I help you sir?" the receptionist asked, his long fingers picking up a fountain pen and drawing a heavy book across.

"Do you have the state room available?" Ross asked politely, ignoring the soft intake of breath from his companion.

The receptionist glanced at the book and then turned a smile on them. "We do sir. Would you like to book in and I will have your bags collected."

"No bags," Ross said calmly as he signed the book with a flourish. He glanced up to meet the knowing gaze of the young man then dropped a small wink. "I'd prefer breakfast served in the room."

"I will arrange that for you sir. Do you wish for room service this evening? The kitchens are still open."

"Fruit and champagne," Ross said after a brief pause to think. "Is there anything you would like?" he asked as he looked down at Marisa. There was the tinge of panic in her eyes, but her face betrayed only assured aloofness.

"I'm fine, thank you," she said with a cool smile.

Nodding to the receptionist, Ross took the room key and turned towards the sweeping staircase at his back. Leading Marisa up the think carpet, he took a second to bow his head and mutter to her. "Are you really sure about this? If you wish to back out then do so at any time."

Marisa raised her chin a fraction higher and forced a smile, though a shaky one. "I want to do this," she assured him as they reached the wide landing. Looking down a corridor to the right and left, she followed where Ross led her to an imposing polished mahogany door. Inserting the key, he turned it and pushed the door open, again waving her forward. Placing his hand to the middle of her back, he shivered at the charge between them both.