*
A couple hours later, Tate sat on the edge of her bed, staring at her closet. She should have been getting ready for work. She had promised to do a shift at the bar for one of the other girls, Tuesday was usually her day off. She had taken a shower, tried to motivate herself to get dressed, but after the afternoon she'd had, she really didn't want to get sexy-ed up and go sling drinks. She sighed.
Get over it. Rent is due.
She began yanking out clothing, not paying attention to what she picked out. Her mind kept wandering back to the conference room. Tate had grown pretty bold over the years, very confident in herself and her sexuality, but she had never done something like that before; had never stripped in a room full of people.
How was it possible that he still had that kind of power over her? One time. They had been together only one time, it wasn't fair. And weirder still – why did it seem like he was pursuing her? Jameson Kane didn't pursue anybody, not even seven years ago. Ellie had asked him out. He had certainly never pursued Tate. She had all but fallen on his dick that night, she'd been so eager for him. She shook her head back and forth, trying to clear her thoughts.
Never again. I am never going to think of Jameson Kane, never -,
“Tate!” Rusty's voice squealed through her door.
“What? It's open,” Tate called out, dropping the towel she had been wearing and shimmying in to a pair of sweat pants. Her door cracked open and Rus peaked her head around the corner.
“There is some guy here to see you,” she said in an excited voice. Tate scrunched her eyebrows together. Some guy?
“Who? What does he want?” she asked, pulling on a t-shirt and then yanking her damp hair up in to a ponytail.
“I don't know who he is, but he is so good looking, I can't believe he's real life. He's wearing some expensive looking suit,” Rus described. Tate groaned, rubbing her hands over her face.
“Jesus! What, is he stalking me now!?” she moaned.
“No,” a deep voice came from her doorway. She looked up.
Jameson Kane is in my piece of shit apartment.
“Make yourself at home,” she sighed, gesturing for him to come in to her room. Rus giggled and turned bright red, making room for him and then scurrying out the door.
“She's cute,” Jameson commented as he wandered around the tiny room, inspecting things.
“Oh really? Want to eat her for breakfast, too?” Tate asked. Jameson laughed, leaning close to a photo.
“Hmmm, not really my tastes. I'm hungering for something a little darker,” he replied. Tate narrowed her eyes.
“Well, that 'something' isn't on the menu,” she informed him. He stood upright and faced her.
“We'll see about that.”
“Seriously. What the fuck do you want?” she snapped at him. He raised an eyebrow.
“Attitude. I like it. Where's all that shit you normally have around your eyes?” he asked, walking towards her. She started to back up but then stopped, holding her ground.
“I was just about to put all that shit back on when I was interrupted by a conceited asshole,” she replied.
“Look. I want to talk to you. We haven't seen each other in a long time. You ..., intrigue me. Not much does anymore,” he explained a little.
“Intrigue?”
“You're so different, but still kind of the same. It's interesting. I'm curious to see how deep both go,” he added. She sighed.
“Look, Kane, you don't just get to decide -,”
“Jameson,” he corrected her. She blinked at him.
“Excuse me?”
“Jameson. That's my name. Call me by my name,” he instructed her.
“But everyone calls you Kane. All those lawyers today, my sister, everyone,” Tate replied, a little lost in the conversation. He shook his head.
“I don't care. You always called me Jameson. Say it again,” he ordered. She laughed.
“Okay, play time is over. Get out of my apartment. I'm very flattered that you think you want to know something about me, but I don't really give two fucks. I don't want anything to do with you. You are nothing to me. So thank you, and goodbye,” she stated, gesturing towards her door.
Jameson watched her for a second and then walked towards her, his steps slow and deliberate. She refused to back away, so they wound up almost chest to chest. Not quite touching, but close enough that he sucked all the oxygen out of her. She stared up at him, rubbing her lips together so she wouldn't blurt out the thoughts in her head.
“It hasn't escaped my attention that you growing a massive set of balls seems to have happened right after I fucked you. I think I deserve some credit, and therefore, you owe me,” he broke it down for her. She burst out laughing.
“You're an amazing piece of work! Just because we had sex, doesn't mean -,”
“I fucked you. There is a big difference.”
“It was seven years ago!” Tate was suddenly shrieking. “Seven fucking years! Who gives a fuck!? I've fucked a lot of people since then! I'm sure you have, too! So big fucking deal!”
Nothing rattled him. He stood still, continuing to smirk down at her. It drove her insane. She wanted to slap him. Claw her nails across his face. Knock him to the ground. And then possibly fuck his brains out ...,
“I think it was a very big deal, and we can discuss that another time. For now, let me take you to work. Let me see this shit hole bar you work at, and then maybe we can set up a time to chat,” Jameson offered.
Her mind was spinning. It had been a big deal to him? Not possible. Not. Fucking. Possible. He'd barely even looked at her after it had happened, and she had been a puddle on the floor. Jameson Kane wasn't that kind of guy, she couldn't imagine anything being that big of a deal to him. She had always assumed he had forgotten about it.
That's why she was so stunned.
“I ..., you ..., what?” she asked. He laughed.
“I'll be waiting downstairs. Your apartment scares me. Be down in fifteen minutes. Do not make me come back up here,” he ordered, pointing a finger at her before walking towards the door.
“You can't tell me -,”
“Oh, and Tate, you forgot these,” he said, digging in his pocket. He pulled her panties out and tossed them onto the floor. “You always seem to be dropping these around me.”
Mother fucker.
*
Jameson was a little shocked that she came down within the fifteen minutes. She eyed him sideways for a minute, and it was obvious she was considering just walking off, but something made her think twice. She must have figured out that he would just follow after her. She sighed and stepped around him, letting herself in to the passenger side of his car.
Tate didn't talk to him, other than to give directions. Her voice had gotten just a touch lower than it had been when she was eighteen. A huskiness had been added to it, or something. Something sexy. Everything about her was sexy. Seven years ago, she had been sexy as a clueless, naive, young woman. Now, as a confident, forward, twenty-five year old, she stopped his heart. Made it hard to think straight.
She had put makeup on. She seemed to favor a smudgy, smoky eye. It looked good on her. A little trashy, but in a very sexy way. Her pert mouth was coated in a pale, pink gloss, that really emphasized the fact that she most definitely had CSL - cock-sucking-lips. Seven years ago, he wouldn't have ever been able to imagine Tatum O'Shea sucking dick. Now he couldn't stop.