Red Eye

The executive team, a few of the members of the IT department, and Jude and I were standing in front of a large monitor, displaying an empty web browser. Jude was leaning into his laptop, compiling our code solution and deploying it to their cloud servers. Somehow his facial hair had grown into this really sexy noon-o-clock shadow, I noted.

"All right Rae. Let her rip."

I projected my macbook onto the television, opened up a browser, and typed in the hosted URL of our site. There it was, on the monitor. Our landing page! Loaded lighting-fast, might I add, and that was no accident.

"Aaaand we're live." Jude smiled broadly. "Nice work, everybody."

Light clapping tinkled around the room, and everyone shuffled into the kitchen for the bucket of beers. It was just Jude and I left in IT. He approached me, slowly, and put his hand lightly on my lower back as he leaned in to whisper softly in my ear.

"Let's mingle for a beer and then jet. I want to show you the city."

I smiled shyly, somehow feeling awkward again.

We made light conversation with everyone in the bright, 6th floor office kitchen over cheap beers. They were the same people I had spoken to for the past six months in online conferencing, but more relaxed now that the software was deployed.

Relaxed for now, anyway. I knew from experience that after a software release, the first wave of bug reports comes like a tsunami. I was already mentally preparing for the long nights ahead, and the celebratory finality of today was just for show. I stayed next to Jude as he made small talk and exchanged congrats with all the key players, flashing a smile when appropriate, and generally just nursing my beer.

The CEO, a blue-eyed, somewhat large man named Pete, kept eyeing my legs. He thought he was being stealthy, I snorted to myself, but women always fucking know. We see you creepin.

He finally made his way over to where I was awkwardly standing by Jude.

"Here she is, the software guru! Nice work young lady. Wouldn't have made it to the finish line without you."

I smiled back. "Thanks Pete."

So, this dude. He was the reason that the deadline was so demanding. Pete was the reason that everyone was so burned out at his company. He was demanding to his engineers, and the result was frantically-written, horrible code that was full of bugs and nasty surprises. The men responsible had moved to greener pastures. Somewhere down the road, Pete must have recognized the problem (with no responsibility taken, obviously), which is why he began to outsource the work to our firm. At least I had Jude as a buffer.

I strongly despised him. The feeling was growing more now that I was catching his vibe, which was currently creepin at my breasts.

"So, are you going to see the sights now that you're in New Orleans? Grab a couple of drinks?" he asked my tits.

There was no way this guy was inviting himself out with me. I stuttered, "um, well- "

Jude cut in smoothly. "Not tonight, we're pretty tired from the flight. Maybe we can have lunch before we fly back tomorrow afternoon." He flashed an intentionally bland, professional smile. "I know just the place! Fantastic gumbo."

Pete gave a large, fake smile. "Perfect, Jude. Of course, of course. Looking forward to it." He moved away, and Jude hissed to me, "on that note, let's roll out."

We escaped into the bright, perfect, slightly golden late afternoon sun and hailed a cab. First we had to check into the rental that Jude had booked, which was an entire house in the French Quarter. It was a beautiful little shotgun victorian place within walking distance of everything.

I wandered the house. Its bright, modern decor was stunning. Ferns hung in the window, palms in the parlour. Beautiful art and bold color splashed the walls. It seemed very expensive, but then again, that seemed to be Jude's style, and for all my teasing I didn't mind his bourgeois tastes. The dude works hard. And this...this was lovely.

"Pick out your bedroom," Jude yelled out from across the house.

I picked a small room that had walls lined with books and a beautiful little arrow plant on the nightstand. I put my duffel bag down and cleaned up a little in the restroom. There. A spritz of Clinique, touch of mascara, and I felt much better. I fixed my hair - which was huge in this humidity, but surprisingly soft and manageable, and wandered downstairs, looking for Jude.

I walked outside to the covered porch, which was stunning. A long, beautiful barnwood table sat underneath strings of lights, and on the opposite side, several cushioned hanging chairs. Jude was lounging in one of them, drinking a beer.

"Hello, sunshine," he smiled, his eyes dark. "You wanna grab something to eat?"

He looked too perfect. That white shirt was unbuttoned again, just the right amount, and his five-o-clock shadow was just irresistible. So masculine, yet refined.

"I'd love to..." I trailed off. "Shouldn't I change?"

"Nope," he said, his eyes trailing down my body. "Wear that. Don't you dare change."

I shook my hair a little to the side, and tilted my head. The unreleased sexual tension from the day made me feel bold, almost desperately so. "You sure?" I unbuttoned the top button, slowly, letting my hands almost stroke myself on their way down. "Maybe I should change just a little."

His eyes were glued to my shirt. "Well, maybe a little," he offered, and cleared his throat. "Maybe just the shirt. So business-like."

"I agree." I undid the next button. The black lace of my bra peeked out the top now. "I'm not going to any more business meetings today, I didn't think."

He nodded, and shifted his legs. I undid another button. I could see him getting hard, even if he was trying to hide it. His voice trailed off a little as he said, "No more...no more business, you're right."

"Strictly pleasure, now...right?" I said softly. Another button, and his mouth hung open a little. One last button, and I slowly peeled it off, now only a few inches away from Jude.

He grabbed my hips and pulled me down onto him, crushing my mouth with his. One hand wandered up underneath my pencil skirt and cupped my ass. I was so hungry, so needy...he reached up behind me with his other hand, gently grabbing a handful of my hair and pulling me close.

"You're so bad," he whispered in my ear. "I need you now. Right fucking now."

I moaned -- arched my back -- fuck, I needed him too. But I kissed him instead, deeply, and whispered, "not yet." I stood back up, gently shaking him off. I lightly picked up my shirt. "Let's go eat." I started buttoning it back up, smiling at him mischievously. I had the power here, and I was savoring every minute.

Jude groaned and threw his head back. "Trouble," he said to the sky. "This girl is trouble."

I buttoned every single button of my shirt back up, all the way to my neck, and cleared my throat. "There. Presentable." He snorted and got up.

"May I?" he said, gesturing to my shirt. I nodded. He leaned in slowly and softly unbuttoned just two buttons. His soft lips grazed mine in the gentlest of kisses, then stepped back. "Let's go eat." A light tough on my lower back led us out the front gate.

The bright sunlight had almost disappeared as we walked out into the street, and I could see a line of black clouds on the horizon. The sunset was stunning, deep purples and blues and reds, but I could smell the damp notes of rain in the air. The wind was beginning to pick up, and the palm trees began to bend ever so slightly.

The French Quarter was beginning to wake up, it seemed. Looking around me, it felt like there was soul popping out of every brick. The neon lights had turned on, and the hurricane stands were open selling their trademark drinks. A card-reader on the corner lit her santeria candles. A drum circle had popped up in the middle of Bourbon street and I had to dance as we walked by, pulling Jude along laughing. Jude was not the kind of man to dance when walking past a drum circle, but his eyes certainly flashed when I did and made him try.

The restaurant that Jude picked was, need I even say, classic and perfect. It was in the old Jackson Square, whose ancient stone street was lined with picturesque park benches and streetlights and art vendors, who were now packing up to go home. The streetlights had just flickered on, and the sky was turning a stunning shade of orange when we arrived.

We were sat by a very businesslike cajun maitre'd at a table for two, upstairs at Jude's request. On our way up the stairs, we passed a table set with bread and wine - for the ghost that lives here, Jude solemnly informed me - and up and around the corner. I definitely felt out of place. I couldn't remember the last dinner I had eaten that had not been in front of a computer screen, eaten with one hand shoveling and the other hand typing. The tablecloths were white, the finishes were sparkling, and I looked at Jude and couldn't help but snort at how well he fit in.

"What?" He flipped his napkin and set it in his lap.

I died. I couldn't help it. He did the fucking napkin flick. That, coupled with his bougie shirt, and dreamy dark wavy hair, was irresistible, I had to mock him.

His eyes flashed at me as he looked at me crossly. "Yep. You're making fun of me again."

I vaguely gestured around me. "It's beautiful, I swear, I'm so happy to be here."

"Uh huh."

I snorted and he kicked me under the table. His dark eyes met mine, and though his eyes were laughing too, I detected a serious note of authority there.

"Behave," he said in a low voice.

"Yes sir," I said, just above a whisper.

Fuck. That affected him, I could tell. His whole demeanor suddenly changed, and the foot that kicked me previously moved in closer, his leg extended between mine. Our eyes were still locked, and I felt like they might burn, those two dark pools of black boring into mine. We said nothing for a few seconds and just reveled in the moment, balancing delicately and deliciously on this game of sex and power.

The waiter came and brought the glass of wine Jude had ordered, which was a crisp, very lightly sweet white, and we finally began to look at the menu.

"I have no idea what to get," I said idly.

"Well," Jude said, softly drawing out the word, "Do you like seafood?"

"I think so," I said. "Captain D's is the shit."

Now it was his turn to snort. "Try the bayoubaisse," he said. "It's a riff on the French seafood stew, bouillabaisse, just with a local flair."

I had to admit, that sounded delicious. I went with it, while Jude settled on shrimp and grits. We talked lightly at first, then intently and fluidly. Our food came, but it seemed to almost be a distraction, even though it was incredible. Two nerds usually share a lot of common ground, and Jude and I were no exception.

"What was your first programming language?" he asked.

"Visual Basic," I said, "In the seventh grade. You?"

"Cobol. In college."

"Cobol?!" I teased. "God. I think my dad did that."

"Don't make me feel old," Jude said, "I've just come to terms with the grays. Cobol is lucrative, just so you know. Nobody wants to do it. Anyone who is willing to write in Cobol makes a hundred and fifty an hour, minimum."

"But," I snapped back, "how much of that is spent on the therapy sessions that a Cobol developer has to pay for because he - or she - spends their life in the dark dungeon of a fucking Cobol codebase?"

Jude laughed, deeply, surprised and pleased. "Ok. So what's the oldest language I can persuade you to work in, Rae?"

I didn't miss the subtle reminder that I was his employee, so I licked my spoon slowly, teasing him. "Java, J2EE, absolutely the most dated I'll do. But only if I can work towards an upgrade to the new shiny Spring stuff."

My knees were brushing against his flirtatiously.

"I had no idea you had such demands when we hired you," he said with a slight growl.

"I have many demands," I said lightly, "least of all the technological ones."

Jude's leg pressed against mine, and his hand moved to my thigh. "Tell me about these other demands."

My heart raced. I had enjoyed several glasses of wine at this point; my natural wit let me down and I had nothing to say. I looked into his eyes instead, and bit my lip, hoping he understood.

He did. Jude's face darkened, and his hand moved up my thigh. His fingers lightly traced the skin below the hem of my skirt. I looked around. No one was watching us. The restaurant was dim, but still, this was risky. He abruptly glanced around and then moved his chair closer to mine.

First one finger, stroking the outside of my panties, teasing just a little. I gasped, then regained composure, trying to appear as natural as I could. I could pull this off, and pretend I was just a normal person having dinner. Not a slut with her boss's fingers over her pussy.

He gently pulled my panties to the side with two fingers and slipped one inside. I whimpered.

"Be good, Rae," he whispered, his voice gruff.

I exhaled slowly. "Yes sir," I said yet again. His body stiffened and he plunged his finger inside of me, deeply, just barely touching the spot where I needed him.

"You're so wet," he said. "How can you be so wet in public?"

"Someone likes to touch me at the table, apparently," I said breathlessly.

His finger circled my clit, sending shockwaves of desire through my body before withdrawing quickly. The waiter had come to take our plates away.

"How was your meal?" He asked, professionally and obliviously.

"Fantastic, thank you," Jude replied. His fingers, slick with my juices, were resting lightly on top of my thigh under the table. The waiter turned and left with our empty plates.

I reached for his hand, and as casually and innocently as I could, brought it to my mouth, and licked one finger clean while looking into his eyes. I let my tongue move up and down his finger, getting every last bit...and sucking gently.

Jude looked completely feral. He swallowed.

"Let's go, Rae," he said. I nodded.

—

We stood outside, under the balcony, waiting for our ride. I leaned my back against Jude, his arms around me, while we stared at the city before us. The wind had picked up considerably while we were in the restaurant and a strong storm was hovering just beyond the city. It was strangely light, though the sun had set, and from the strange glow in the sky and the street lamps we could see how New Orleans had begun to bend under its pressure. The lacy metal accents of the tall, ancient balconies in the French Quarter had lived through hundreds of these, I was sure. The hanging ferns spun wildly out of control, and I saw a few fly off of their hooks. Palm fronds rippled excitedly in the wind and flew through the air, which smelled strongly of salt and storm.

"Did you check the weather?" I asked Jude. His face was blank. I got the impression that checking the weather was not something that this man does.

"No..." he paused. "Seems like it's going to rain," he said insightfully.

Our car pulled up, and we climbed in. Our fingers weaved together as he held my hand in the backseat, and we rode silently in the dark. The world outside our cozy restaurant seemed vaguely apoplectic, but I couldn't help but think about Jude and what might happen tonight. He seemed to have the same mindset. His eyes kept drifting across my body.

Just before we pulled up, the rain came with a thousand hammers. Hot and heavy it poured down in sheets, and though it was only a short, frantic sprint from the car to the house, we were soaked through when we arrived. Jude went to flick on the light switch.

Nothing.

"Well shit."

He went to a few different rooms, trying the light switches, before announcing. "Power's out. I'm going to go look for candles."

I walked into the kitchen and squeezed the water out of my hair into the sink, felt around for the dish towel, and dried off as much as I could. I could hear the dull roar of the rain outside. I kicked off my heels, then unbuttoned my shirt, peeling it off of me, and wrung it out in the sink.

I saw Jude, glowing, walking through the house. He was holding a long candlestick in an antique brass holder. "Got lucky," he said, flashing me a smile. "Come on, let's get you dry." His eyes lingered on my bra, and my cold nipples popping out of them.

"Yes, let's," I answered, and tried to move my feet. I felt the cold tile underneath them, but they would not move. I was acutely aware of every inch of Jude in front of me. God he was sexy. His white shirt was stuck to his chest, outlining his physique, which I was shocked to see was incredibly toned. Drops of rain shimmered from his light shadow of a beard. The most alluring thing of all were his eyes, and the way they swept my body. The way they wanted me. Badly. He breathed in, deeply, his breaths shuddering.

I bit my lip and felt lost in the moment.

Jude put the candlestick down and closed the three steps between us, sweeping me up onto the kitchen counter. His mouth crushed mine in a kiss, his hips pulled into mine with the power we both felt. I pulled him into me desperately, clawing his back, twisting my legs around him. I needed him. I needed him hours ago.

We kissed and consumed each other like animals.

My skirt had ridden up past my ass and I felt the cold countertop, splattered with rain. I felt his erection against the soaked cotton of my panties. I felt his teeth, biting my lip. I felt the weight and press of his body and I heard the growl in his throat as he ripped my bra down, actually destroying it, we both heard it rip but who the fuck cared and his tongue circled my nipples and his fingers were in my pussy again and oh fuck I was close I was going to cum right now if he didn't stop and he didn't and I squeaked, softly, as the hurricane of the O that had been building all day finally tore through my body as his fingers pumped in and out and fucked me with just his hand just his hand as he whispered "yes, yesss" in my ear.

I slumped against his chest. Fuck. His fingers slowed, finding my g-spot again and lingering there, claiming ownership, softly stroking.

"Let's go upstairs," he growled, and pulled his hands back.

I kissed him deeply, and hummed in assent.

Jude grabbed the candlestick and led me upstairs, which had this ethereal, Belle-in-the-castle kind of feel to it. Outside thunder cracked and rumbled. The rain was still coming down in sheets, and the flickering candlelight cast strange, larger-than-life shadows on the wall as the sound of the old, creaking wooden staircase led us upstairs.

He delicately opened the door to his room, and I could see in his face a mixed calculation of fear and lust and potential HR issues that could occur and saw lust win, and quickly, as if it ever had a chance.

I realized at that moment how much power I truly had over him now.

His room was the master bedroom, with high ceilings, tall, almost gothic windows that framed the storm raging outside. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases lined the walls, and a ladder on a track lay in wait for access to the dusty tomes on the higher shelves. I could see a glimpse of the master bathroom and claws on an old porcelain tub before I felt Jude come up behind me and wrap his arms around my waist.

"Come to bed with me," he whispered in my ear, his voice warm and rich, with strong wolfish vibes.

I pulled away, and walked over to his bed, which was a very modern low platform. I sat on the side, demurely, before reaching for him by the belt and pulling his hips toward my face, biting my lip with mischievous intent as I began to undo his dress pants.

"What kind of fucking bougie belt is this," I teased him, noting the expensive leather feel. I gently pulled it out from his pant loops, and damn, it was super soft. "I like how this feels," I whispered, and wrapped it around my naked shoulders. He was so big, his cock was barely contained by his pants, and I could see the tip poking out of the top. I got up on my knees and licked it lightly, teasing him, tasting the flesh and fabric.