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“This is all just based on emotions, not clear memories.
“And I feel like I was about to break the rules and something very bad happened. And then I ran away, and now my uncle is looking for me.”
“It seems odd that if he’s out looking for you that there wouldn’t be anything on the news or the internet about you yet,” Cherie says.
I grunt because I have a pretty good idea why not. “I know what this is. You were in a cult, Jane. You escaped a cult.”
Cherie and Pops exchange looks.
“Explain yourself, young man.”
“Think about it,” I say. “Her uncle is a single domineering figure. Strict rules. Punishments. Tall fences. She’s in a cult. Or she was.”
“That’s kind of a stretch,” Pops says.
“It would explain why they haven’t called the police or put out a missing person report on her. They want to find her but keep it on the down low,” I say.
Jane’s hand rests over mine and squeezes tightly. “If I’m married and the guy is not doing everything in his power to find me? I don’t want that guy anywhere near me ever again.
“And now, I don’t really want to talk about it anymore. Levi, I want to hear more about you and Shep. He told me you helped him start up the business.”
Pops sits back, sips his wine and explains why he decided to invest in my coffee business.
“I appreciate his entrepreneurial spirit,” he says.
“He’s the only one who believed in me,” I say. “The typical investors, all scoffed at my vision to use only fair-trade organic beans, grown without clear-cutting, without displacing native people and wildlife.”
Pops laughs. “I don’t know how that boy was raised by me, but he’s an insufferable do-gooder sometimes. All this fuss over beans is high maintenance and expensive.”
I laugh. “It’s true. But my brand is my brand is my brand. So, when even the more aggressive capital investors laughed me right out the door, I happily walked out.”
Pops hammers a finger on the table. “And that’s when I knew he had grown up just like me. Stubborn as the day is long, and determined.
“Don’t like my style? Then you can just go somewhere else. That’s how I made my way in the world, and if he believed in his precious coffee beans that much, well I knew there was something to it.”
I say, “If only I could get Pops to drink my coffee instead of that instant swill.”
Pops waves me off. “I’ll survive, just make sure I get my return on investment.”
“You will, sir,” I say. “But you’ll never have real happiness until you drink my coffee.”
I watch as Pops reaches over and takes Cherie’s hand and says, “Oh, I don’t know about that.”
Cherie is blushing and making eyes at Pops.
I don’t know how those two managed to meet at the boat house and fall in love all in the same day, and I don’t think I want all the details.
But as I’m thinking about that, I feel Jane’s hand on my leg, under the table. It’s a bit higher than it should be in polite company, and the feel of it is exciting. If I weren’t at the table with my Pops, I might be fully aroused already.
I start looking for signals to end dinner so I can take Jane home to my bed. Inhale her scent, kiss her mouth, explore every one of those sultry curves.
I inch my hand up her thigh. Her other hand hikes the skirt up some more, discreetly.
I inch up farther and pretty soon I think I can feel the heat emanating from the deep center of her.
I can’t wait to lose myself Jane’s heat, plunge into her, taste her, drink her in. Claim her.
We continue fondling each other under the table while Jane carries on a conversation with Cherie, asking her questions about her upbringing, her favorite movies, likes, dislikes. And she’s not feigning interest; my Jane is 100 percent focused and real. She’s also now got her hand on my dick, the way some people hold on to the napkins at dinner while making polite conversations.
