Julian

The trip to his house in the Hollywood Hills was a silent one. She hadn't uttered a single word after telling him where to drive, just smiled, put her sunglasses on and relaxed into her seat. Julian had been so stunned, he had silently started the car, yet with the firm intent to ask where she wanted to be dropped off, once they were out of the airport zone; but, as he manoeuvred the car out of LAX and into the freeway, he got distracted and pensive. Every time he was about to break and ask her something, the words just seemed to die on his lips, so instead of speaking, he just turned the radio on a low setting and, from time to time, would glance at her, wondering, once again, what the hell he was doing.

He was sort of grateful for her silence, because he was in turmoil and needed to collect his thoughts and compose himself. He wasn’t feeling as together as he usually was. This much he knew, and it was worrying him. Whatever was going on here, he wasn’t prepared for it, and this never, ever, happened to him. Being in control was paramount to him, an intrinsic trait of his very being. He was feeling rattled, and his consciousness was telling him he needed to regain his footing. Flustered and distracted, he couldn’t even pinpoint where this state of utter bafflement was coming from, except for her mere presence, which of course didn’t make any sense. At all.

He didn't know this woman from Adam's and yet, he was taking her to his home. His multi-million dollar home, which he never took anyone to, least of all, strangers. He didn't even know her name for Pete's sake, and yet, incomprehensibly, couldn’t bring himself to ask her either. What the hell was happening here?

He was Julian McCarty, 43 years old, heir to the McCarty industries, and son of a prime minister! He had turned his back on his wealthy upbringing to strike it on his own. And he had. Handsomely, one might add. His dashing good looks, wicked humour and captivating navy blue eyes were his trademark. Successful top model at 20, owner of an international chain of restaurants by 25, business mogul by 30, A-list actor for the next 10 years because he was getting bored... A man with the Midas’s touch, talent in spades and a stunning body to boot! His name has been attached to a long list of celebrities in politics, entertainment and sports for years, and starlets to confirmed actresses added to a mix of professional women, regularly made attempts to pin him down with their charms. He had 2 famous ex wives and an infamous current girlfriend, to prove he wasn't the husband type. Just a man who enjoyed life, and was more acquainted than most with the joie de vivre that can be gained from bedding as many women as one could. An independent spirit who made the cover of business magazines and supermarket rags alike, his personal fortune estimated at a cool quarter of a billion dollar, the conglomerate carrying his family name, worth in the billions. A man, women were fanning themselves over, a man who other men wished they were! A man who knew who he was, what he wanted, and who was never intimidated by anything or anyone.

Yet, here I am, feeling like a bloody idiot, almost afraid of this strange woman!

Several times during the drive, he found himself about to stop the car and demand to know who she was and where she lived, but one look at her simply deterred his intent.

She looked very peaceful in her seat, with a slight curve at her lips, which made him wonder if she had fallen asleep and was dreaming of something or someone rather pleasant. Her chest was heaving regularly and slowly; her V- neck tunic was up on her legs and he could see well past above her knees, and again, he found himself wondering if she was wearing anything underneath.

You better get a grip he told himself, as he could feel his manhood stir while he was driving his customized $350,000 Spyker convertible.

Totalling it because you're having a hard on and can't seem to concentrate on the road is REALLY not something you need right now, he chastised himself, staring back right ahead.

Yet, after a few minutes, his eyes wandered back to her legs and her tunic, her heaving breast, and her lips, still spotting that small curve. He was so distracted by his wondering thoughts, the car skid a little off the lane. A cortege of blowing horns from the cars behind and flashing lights of another coming forward jolted him back to reality, as both hands gripped the steering wheel more forcefully, as he tried to focus back on the road.

She hadn’t moved nor reacted at all to the near accident he caused, so he thought, she must have been asleep indeed, and he was grateful. He was embarrassed by his reaction to her, and this had him getting agitated, again.

Thank God, she can’t read my mind! This would be damn humiliating. Get a bloody grip!

Finally, after the longest fifty minutes of his life, he flipped the remote control of his gate-controlled estate, drove to the front entrance of the main house, parked the car and said, “We're home”. She smiled and said softly, “Thank you for getting us here in one piece.” He slightly chuckled at the realization she had been well aware of his distracted state, and got out of the car to open her door, as his two husky dogs were welcoming him. He took her hand to guide her to the entrance of his home, as if it was the most natural gesture, and the same thought struck him again. What are you doing?

Once the door opened, instead of standing in his magnificent foyer, she advanced straight to the glass panel that covered the entire side of his expensive living room, and to distract himself from staring at her back and her legs, he asked, “Can I get you anything to drink?”

Stopping right in from of his terrace, without turning she replied softly, “Shiraz if you have it, otherwise, San Benedetto or Voss will do...” He left her and went to the kitchen, busying himself with glasses. Going to the Cellar to get the wine, he had to walk past the living groom and he noticed she hadn't moved; she appeared to be glued in one spot, and he couldn’t help the Cheshire smile creeping to his face. He thought, ”Well, it works every time, the view always does it; she'll be putty in my hands from now...” He hurried getting the wine, already congratulating himself on how easy it would be to get her into bed, “And it only cost me some shiraz, no bad mate...” he smiled to himself.

She was stationed in front of the glass, taking the view in. Julian knew the effect this sweeping view had; it was the reason he purchased the house in the first place. It was the highest house on The Hills, and from it, you could see it all: the mountains, the city and an extended view of the Pacific Ocean.

Only one word could describe it: stunning.

But right now, he didn't really care about the view of the ocean, he was plainly staring at her profile and when he heard her exhale noticing she knew he was there, approaching her, he realized his plan to get her into bed wasn't that important anymore.

She was beautiful. A stunner in her own right, and she wasn’t even trying. The thought hit him like a brick. Her features were nearly perfect, and the simple tunic combined with the artsy pair of boots she was wearing made her look like a million dollar, yet that wasn’t what made his heart beat faster. She was beautiful, not only in the classical sense, but in a peculiar way. Serenity seemed to roll off her, encompassing everything around her with a disturbing calmness. She was leaving him speechless, and he simply didn't know how to deal with this.

He presented her with a glass of wine, his right hand just below her chest. She took it without turning. Being taller and right behind her, he watched her sip into the wine and she moaned appreciatively.

That sound alone almost did him in.

He could feel the heat radiating from her body and he was getting aroused beyond reason. He still didn't know her name and didn't really care at this point. All he could concentrate on was the feeling of her back against his chest, as she was now leaning against it while continuing to drink the wine.

His manhood was slightly rising and hard as stones. He was sure she could feel it. He didn't dare to move and wondered what would happen next. And as he was pondering his next move, she turned around handed him the glass while pinning him with a look that said, “Don't even try…” and said out loud with a small smile, “Well, the view was charming... really… but I do need some rest. Would you care to show me one of your guest rooms?”

Her eyes, her lips, her tongue licking them.

He barely heard her; he was so focused on them. It took every bit of self-control in him to summon a worded response and not kiss her right there and then.

He stepped back, dropped the glasses on a coffee table, and motioned for her to follow him to the staircase.

While ascending the stairs he could only ask himself, what are you doing? What in God’s name are you doing?

Upstairs, he opened a door to let her in and said, “There is an ensuite bathroom if you need anything...Uhmm… “He cleared his throat, not knowing what else to say, “Thank you.“ she replied softly, advancing into the room.

He was standing still, facing her back, and once again, was wondering how this was happening. As he was about to ask her name, she pulled her tunic up in one swift move without turning, and Julian found himself having difficulties to inhale. He thought he had died and gone to heaven and felt tingles all over his body.

She had the most perfect bubble derriere he'd ever seen. And, he'd seen a lot of them. Her lustrous hair falling mid back, drawing even more attention to it. She was wearing a beige strapless bustier bra with matching boy shorts, and her knee high boots. Her body was lean with curves on all the right places; the contrast of her under garments with her colored skin making her so desirable, he thought he would come just by looking at her.

Bloody hell!

With her back still at him, her tunic thrown on the adjacent seater, she bent over to unzip her boots, her curls falling between her legs, almost touching the floor, and again he found himself struggling to breathe, unable to detach his eyes from her body.

She still hadn't said a word, and right before pulling the doona out, she slightly turned her head, captivating him with her mesmerizing eyes, and with her arm placed on her breasts, so as to hide them more, said softly, ”Will you please stay with me until I fall asleep?” He was positively speechless. Not only by his inability to think coherently or simply articulate around her, but also by the fact that she was in his house, in his guest room, inviting him in this very bed he owned and yet, he felt like the guest! He watched her slip under the sheets and having a glimpse of her full front body, he wondered how it would feel to touch her skin.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. His mouth was completely dry. He was beginning to create an association between her and the sensation.

She was settled inside the bed and looked at him expectantly still waiting for an answer, as she let her bustier fall on the floor. He licked his dry lips, nodded numbly, and started to move towards the bed when she added, “You can just lie here... “ indicating her left side, “ ...and go when I'm asleep.” she concluded, yawning. He nodded again, no trusting his voice, as he popped on the bed after removing his shoes.

She had closed her eyes and he found himself looking at her to his heart's content. His head was against the headboard, while hers was on a pillow that gave him a vantage view of her face and shoulders. She looked scrumptious, he wondered if her skin tasted as it looked: warm, burnt caramel, or honey…Golden. Her skin reminded him of the sweetest of confections he wanted to taste and savor. He was so tempted to touch her, but didn't dare; instead, he tried to memorize every single detail of her face. Her skin was flawless, yet he could swear she wasn't wearing any make up, he couldn't see any wrinkle or even sun spots, her pores were simply invisible, her lashes were long, black and curly, her button nose just perfect, and he wondered just how old she was. Her posture at the airport told him she was a woman over 30, but looking at her now, he pondered if it truly was possible considering how perfect her complexion was. His gaze rested on her lips. Juicy was the only word that came to his muddled mind. Yes, plump and juicy as if a cherry had made her permanent home there. Her black hair was layered with auburn streaks, her soft and voluminous curls were scattered around her face on the pillow; she was breathing softly and Julian couldn't help but get closer.

Before long, they found themselves leaning against each other, and she nestled against his hip, while imprisoning his mid section with her arm. She had fallen asleep. He looked at her and for the umpteenth time, he wondered who she was and more importantly, why she was affecting him that much. The situation was unnerving. He couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that he had a perfect stranger sleeping inches away from him, and he hadn't had sex with her, nor made one of his signature attempts; but on the contrary was willing to do whatever she asked, when she asked, and of course, he still did not know her name!

All the questions swirling in his mind made him feel restless and he found himself trying to extricate himself from her grasp, only to have her whimper in her sleep, “Don't leave me… “ as she was clutching the pillow and freeing him. He caressed her hair, and bent over to kiss her forehead and said softly, “Baby, I'm not going anywhere.” As he did, he took a whiff of her perfume, and couldn’t help inhaling deeply, the scent was unusual yet oddly comforting if not entrancing, and he almost kissed her again, her scent pulling him in.

He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to distance himself, and shaking his head, thinking, “ Baby? What the fuck is wrong with you?” You are ridiculous; thank God, she is asleep and won't remember any of this! Jesus, I need a drink!” He kept looking at her, wanting to leave, yet not daring to, even though he was now free to do so. He was conflicted and confused, and slightly getting pissed off. This whole setting was very puzzling to him, too much so, actually. He didn't watch women sleep! He was Julian McCarty for crying out loud!  He sent them to heaven crying out his name and then sent them on their way!

What the hell is happening here?!?!?!

The restlessness eventually won, and he pulled out his cell phone from his pocket, while making sure he wasn't waking her.

He was texting his older sister, which was kind of another first because he couldn’t recall if he ever asked her love advice. Love? What ?!

Maybe Melissa could help him. Never mind, she was on the other side of the world, in London with her husband. For some unknown reason he felt she could shed some light into the peculiar situation he suddenly was faced with. He needed a woman's opinion here; because he felt like he was sinking fast, and he knew, none of his boys would take this situation seriously or even kindly.

He could already hear their laugh in the distance.