A BONUS EXTRA SCENE FROM MY INCLUDED NOVELLA: HOUSE RULES
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This scene falls just before the final chapter of HOUSE RULES and sets the stage for the epic, best selling Stewart Realty saga that begins with Floor Time.
An Exclusive Stewart Realty Extra Scene
By Liz Crowe
All Rights reserved.
The Blonde Client
Jack sighed and wiped at the sweat that had gathered on the back of his neck. The day had proven unseasonably warm for late April. He had toyed with cancelling this last listing appointment at the tag end of a very long day of appointments, closings, showings and varying levels of bullshit paperwork at his desk in the main Stewart Realty office on Ann Arbor’s north side. He had more listings than he knew what to do with at the moment and had considered hiring a second assistant in the last few days. He did not need this listing. But the inner competitor in him wouldn’t allow him to pass up at least the opportunity to see the place.
Resisting the urge to tug his tie loose, he climbed out of his car and took a long, deep breath. The house was a non-descript tri-level. No different than a third of them in this sixties built popular neighborhood on Ann Arbor’s southwest side. But the builders had had a reputation for superior quality that had held through the years, and so despite having a nearly unworkable, practical floor plan, the place was in many ways superior to ninety percent of the crappy, generic, three thousand square foot two-stories that had been tossed together in the last decade or so on the city’s outskirts.
He squared his shoulders and made an attempt to settle himself. He had no real reason to be so keyed up. He’d just surpassed the Stewart Realty sales record for the second time, and had more money in the bank than he’d ever imagined possible. His own Burns Park renovation project was done, and he now lived in his dream house, complete with man cave ideal basement, gourmet kitchen, and fully equipped master suite, all completed to his exact specifications, and much of it constructed with his own two hands. He lived alone of course. He had his pick of women in five different real estate offices, plus the many who peopled his email and text message inbox. While the whole BDSM scene had gone sour on him for a lot of reasons, it turned out that having the odd somewhat vanilla sexual encounter in empty houses or emptied out realtor offices suited him quite well, thanks. As long as he did not have to bring them home, to his bed, or wake up with them in his space the next morning.
Jack shot his cuffs and narrowed his eyes at the various deferred maintenance items on the house, readying his game face for the coming hour or so of convincing a random housewife to let him list her mother-in-law’s pile of bricks and vinyl siding in one of Ann Arbor’s choicest neighborhoods. He’d sell the damn thing inside of a week. The trick was snatching the five or eight new buyer clients he wanted along the way.
He stuck his hands down in his trouser pockets as he waited for Missus Desperate Daughter-In-Law to answer the doorbell. He never brought a dog-and-pony show for listing appointments. He would listen, allowing his mind to drift to all the things the house needed done while the potential seller would explain all the various “updates” they’d done. Then he’d take a tour, mentally noting deficiencies and problems and finally he’d take control of the kitchen table conversation, making sure said target understood that he, Jack Gordon, was the one and only real estate pro who could effectively handle their “unique situation.”
Jesus. Everybody thought they had a unique situation. If only they knew how much their situation was not that. But he could handle it, no matter what. He never took notes, or shoved some sort of lame ass power point in their faces. He had himself, his eyes, his facial expression and his laser-sharp memory. And his impeccable powers of convincing follow-up.
He smiled at his own awesomeness, and then focused on the woman who’d just opened the door to him. He blinked, just to clear his vision and make sure he was seeing correctly.
“Hi, Jack, right?”
The woman was tall, slender, attractive and dressed in a short black skirt and simple cream blouse and camisole. Her long, light blonde hair fell in rich gold curls around her shoulders. He licked his lips and held out his right hand without a word. She took it. At that moment, Jack knew he had this powder puff listing in the bag.
She gave him the tour. He took in the horrific gold and green bathrooms, the basement paneling, the dated HVAC, and the somewhat saggy roof and her amazing ass the entire time. When they wound up in the kitchen he turned to her with his best, thousand-watt grin.
“This looks great. There are some things I’ll want you to address before we throw it open to the public though. Let’s go have a seat and talk about it.” He held out a hand. The woman stared at it a half second, and let her gaze travel blatantly up his suit-coated arm, across his wide shoulders and to his own eyes. Her full lips turned up in the sort of grin that made his scalp tingle. He cleared his throat, and let himself touch her, just her elbow of course, as he guided her into the shag-carpeted horror of a living room on the upper level.
She sat. He sat next to her and leaned forward, pretending to be deep in thought and let her soak in his quiet for a few minutes. The situation could go one of two ways, he figured, but at that moment, the sexy, older, blonde woman’s aura was impinging on his and making him flat out horny. He repressed it, channeling it, unwilling to let her have the upper hand. She sat back, crossing her long, tanned, bare legs in front of his eyes. He grinned. He loved it when a woman knew what she wanted. And this one did, he could feel all up and down his spinal column.
“I’ve met with three other realtors,” she said, letting her backless high heel dangle as she swung her leg ever so slightly. “You’re the last one I’m interviewing.”
Jack did not miss the emphasis on that last word. He turned his head to look at her. The woman’s color was high, her long blonde hair swept up into a messy sort of thing on top of her head. She was staring right at him.
“Well, I expect I’ll make your short list,” he said, shifting ever so slightly so his thigh touched hers. He turned his torso so as to take in the full measure of her tall, thin, perfection. She was forty five if she was a day but the best sort of preserved maturity. She grinned and cocked her head at him.
“Are you flirting with me, or do you always pull the full frontal charm thing with potential women clients?”
“Yes,” Jack said, leaning back and putting his hand on her upper thigh. A shock wave shot through him. She put her hand over his.
“Good,” she said. “I like it when a man wants to work for it.”
He raised an eyebrow at her, but could feel it in his bones that he was about to not only snag a primo listing, he was also gonna get epically laid. He tightened his grip on her leg, loving the play of muscles under his palm, and slid his hand higher until it was under her skirt, his fingertips skirting the edges of her panties.
“I’m not that easy,” she said, making him look up into her snapping blue eyes. “Jack.”
“Oh,” he said in a whisper, his body hardening and his mind going a little numb, already calculating if they should fuck on the shag carpet or on grandma’s couch. He cared little either way at this point. She sucked in a breath and un-crossed her legs, giving him the access he wanted. He leaned forward, slanting his mouth over hers, loving her taste and the way her pussy warmed his fingers. His brain went into a familiar shut-down, the small noises of satisfaction she made and her lusty odor suffusing his senses. “Something tells me you might be,” he muttered, breathless, as he broke their kiss.
She tugged him down over her, using his tie as leverage and had his belt unbuckled and his zipper down in an eye blink. He loomed over her, unsure but eager at the same time, shoving aside her easy-access camisole and latching onto one huge, rock-hard nipple as he kept up his finger work down below, drawing the most delicious and groan-inducing orgasm from her on her mother-in-law’s smelly couch.
She cupped his face with one hand after she’d stopped shuddering and moaning. When she reached down to grip his aching cock, he shivered, wondering what the hell he was doing right now, but wiling to go with it. He grinned and bit her fingertip.
“Get up, luscious,” he said, tugging her to her feet and kissing her as he walked them into the dated, sixties nightmare of a kitchen and down the few steps into the wood paneled family room. She tugged at him, teasing him and her kisses were all sorts of perfect. The family room had a better carpet anyway, he recalled as he guided them there, lowering her down onto it and licking his way up from her ankles, taking a moment each time to latch onto her clit, sucking hard and making her squeal and her hips buck into his face before crawling up between her legs and staring into her face.
“Got a condom I assume,” she said, making him admire her even more.
“Of course,” he said, taking a second to pull his wallet out of the inner pocket of the suit coat that he still wore.
She took it and rolled it over his length quickly before arching her back, giving him a mouth-watering view of her ripe, ready body. “Fuck me Jack,” she said, staring up at him. “Please?”
“Well, I hate to disappoint such a lovely lady,” he said, dropping down over her and angling his hips, as regret draped over his consciousness.
What in the hell was he doing? He just met this crazy woman. This was a very bad plan.
“Oh…Jesus,” he groaned when she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him in. Closing his eyes as he pounded into her, meeting her thrusts, groaning with her, he berated himself even as he came with a loud cry of satisfaction, relishing the way her body seemed perfectly matched to his, pulsing and clutching at his dick just as he released.
They lay gasping for breath, entwined on the ugly orange shag carpet of a sixties-era family room. Jack could already sense himself withdrawing from her. But she sighed and tugged him close so he kissed her, already concocting excuses so he wouldn’t have to do anything else with her, like get a drink, or worse, take her home to his house that night.
“Okay, where do I sign?” she asked into his lips.
He grinned and disentangled himself, feeling somewhat sordid, but a whole lot victorious. “I’ve got the contract in the car,” he said, tugging off the condom, pulling up his never-quite-shed trousers and buckling his belt as she got slowly to her feet. “Wait right here.”
As he stepped out into the cooling, late April Michigan evening, his head was clear thanks to the monster orgasm but his heart pounded in a way that alarmed him.
Was this what he’d been reduced to? Fucking his way into great listings? He grabbed his laptop from the backseat and straightened up, catching sight of her…of…oh shit what in the hell was her name? He grinned, gave her a little wave, and trotted back to the door.
“All right then,” he said, shouldering past her and trying to retrieve the woman’s damn name from his addled memory banks. “Let’s get this done shall we?”
She sat at the dining room table, staring at him in a somewhat proprietary way. He cleared his throat, cursing his own weakness when she leaned forward, her bare foot teasing his thigh and making him want to fuck her all over again.
“So, Vanessa,” he said, relieved that her name had popped into his consciousness. Her grin made him congratulate himself and think that maybe he’d play this one out a bit, see what else they could conjure between them before he moved on to whatever he had waiting for him around life’s next corner. “Let’s sign your listing contract.”
She watched as he fired up his laptop and highlighted the e-signature boxes at the bottom of page one. He blinked, waiting and fully expecting her to add her initials here, sign her full name there and then drop to her knees for an epic blowjob. His ever-ready cock was already hardening in anticipation.
But she just sat, swinging her slim leg and eyeballing him. His chest tightened in frustration but he kept his smile fixed in place, leaning towards her just enough to remind her of their little close encounter in the next room.
“I think,” she said, inspecting her perfect manicure before pinning him with an ice-blue stare that probably rivaled his own. “I want to sleep on this. I met a really nice lady realtor yesterday. She had me convinced but I wanted to keep my scheduled appointments so, you know, I kept ours today.” Her half lidded eyes met his. He frowned and started to speak but she put her cool fingertips over his lips. “Don’t worry Jack,” she purred, as she gripped his thigh a little harder than was absolutely necessary. “You made a lovely first impression. I think I just might need an encore. Like, you know, a date. Dinner, dancing, wine, that sort of thing? So you don’t get the wrong impression of me.”
“I, uh, thought this was your mother-in-law’s house,” he said, cursing himself for sounding like a stuttering dumbass even as his eyes were drawn into her cleavage.
Smooth, very smooth, you numb nuts.
She chuckled and leaned back in her chair, keeping her gaze on his. He bit back the urge to lunge forward and yank her up by the hair, then force her down to her knees where he wanted her. Shutting his eyes against that impulse, he took a long breath. She was in his space then, lips near his, hand on his still rigid zipper.
“Oh sweetie, don’t be mad,” she whispered, as her tongue flicked out and touched his lips. “Although you are cute when you’re flustered.”
He stood up, glaring at her. She sat there, completely in control of herself and her surroundings.
Yeah, you gave her what she wanted, you colossal idiot, he thought, noting that she was a pretty brittle around the edges. But his body was already betraying him, pushing him forward. He put his hands on the arms of her chair, keeping his lips hovering over hers, trying to snag the tenuous control over the highly charged situation and pull it back into his realm.
“All right, Vanessa,” he said, before standing back up without kissing her and snapping the laptop closed. Gratified that she looked miffed at his snub, he tucked the device under his arm. “Dinner it is. Pick your favorite place and text me. I’ve got to get on with my evening.” With that, he turned on his heel and headed for the front door, stopping at the last minute to look at her. “Which lady realtor,” he asked. “Someone from my company, I assume.”
Vanessa remained seated, looking satisfied, which gave him a jolting buzz of pleasure. She flicked her fingers dismissively. “Oh, um, Sara I think her name was.”
Jack narrowed his eyes, trying very hard not to launch himself across the room at the woman and fuck her until he couldn’t walk, if for no other reason than to drown out the clanging gong of underlying dissatisfaction in his own head. “Sara, huh? Well, tell her you’ve already chosen your new favorite realtor,” he said with a grin and wink before heading out the front door.