Take the Money and Come

Chapter 6: An Equal and Opposite Reaction

Chapter 6: An Equal and Opposite ReactionOlivia wasn’t sure if it was the adrenalin, another glass of wine or the shock of the day that made her move to straddle Byron’s lap. He seemed genuinely surprised by the move, though pleased nonetheless. At first she simply rested her chin on his shoulder, embracing him and enjoying his solid warmth. Her epiphany regarding her feelings for him was not forgotten, merely put to the wayside for the moment. That wasn’t a conversation for tonight.

She was breathing in his scent, which was more metallic than before, and the cologne was absent entirely. For the first time she noticed that his hair was still damp, presumably from the shower. She threaded her fingers through the strands, enjoying the softness it had without his usual hair products. Her nails caressed his scalp and he shivered beneath her. At any other time she might not have noticed, but she felt she was suddenly attuned to him in a new way, like some connection had formed between them in the warm air before the fire. The very molecules between them vibrated with his every move.

Olivia’s own skin felt hot, her cheeks sensitive and flushed as though fevered. She rose up on her knees, pulling at his hair and dragging his face toward her cleavage as she embraced him yet again.

He seemed cautious, hands hovering over the backs of her thighs before gripping them with strong fingers. She could feel the heat from his palms through the thin material of her jeans. His head tilted back, the shadow of rough hair on his chin brushing with a satisfying grasp across her chest.

She bent her head down to kiss him, tugging at his hair harder than before. She felt his hips squirm under her, a small moan sounding deep in his chest. His hands moved up her thighs, squeezing the thick muscles below the curve of her ass before squeezing that as well.

Byron’s hands, she noticed, seemed to be a better indicator of his pleasure than anything else. Her antics could make them stutter, twitch and clench with an entertaining level of predictability. Olivia leaned down to nip at his jaw, drawing out a much more pronounced moan. His hands drifted up the back of her knit sweater, fabric bunching over his hands.

She leaned back in his embrace just long enough to yank off the sweater, tossing it toward the dining room before throwing her body back into his arms and luxuriating in the solid warmth of his embrace. She could feel the slip of his fingers over the lace band of her bra before gentle fingers tugged the hooks loose so it fell away too.

Without giving him much warning, Olivia grasped two handfuls of his checked shirt and yanked it over his head so they could enjoy one another skin-to-skin. Byron’s half-dry hair was mussed beyond belief, and all she wanted to do was run her hands through it. When she did she used her fingernail to rake his scalp, a little rougher than last time, and he grunted. His pelvis jumped, jostling her and making her laugh.

Byron’s hands roamed her body, skimming up her ribcage until they were cupping her breasts. She hummed when he first held them, pleased at the attention, before letting out a gutted gasp when he thumbed her n*****s. He chuckled and did it again. This time the sound Olivia made was a lot quieter, but it came from deep in her belly.

She felt like there were sparks dancing on her skin. Her jeans were unbearably thick, and she couldn’t get the friction she wanted when she rubbed herself against the hardness in his pants. She barely had a moment to notice that her bothersome jeans had been undone, so quickly did he manage to undo their little brass button. She had his earlobe between her teeth, sucking on it before peppering his neck with kisses that turned into panting when his hand slid between them.

He teased her over the top of her barely-there panties, the material thin enough for her to make out his every movement. She sighed, face moving to rest against his collarbone, where she teased him with lips and teeth.

“Oh!” He gasped, hips popping up again. “Oh, you’re killing me.”

“Ha. Am I?” She whispered it so close to his ear that his whole body shuddered from her breath alone.

“Yeah.” He choked, free hand still wandering her skin with flustered preoccupation.

She teased him a little more, lavishing attention on his neck before pulling him in for a series of deep, long kisses. He let out one more helpless groan, then gripped her thighs to turn her onto her back on the sofa next to him.

“Oof!” Olivia huffed when she hit the cushions, looking coyly at Byron over the length of her own body. She could almost feel his gaze roving across her skin like a searchlight in the wilderness, highlighting all the different mountains and valleys until there was nothing left to hide. She didn’t have to hide anything from him.

Byron fell on top of her, hips still between her knees while his lips planted kisses from one collarbone to another. He moved lower, the warmth of his breath broadcasting his every move. She was certain she could have followed his path with her eyes closed, but looking at him she didn’t want to. Somehow the mess of his half-dried hair and the sudden pinkness of his lips made him all the more beautiful to her, like a Botticelli painting.

He was breathing hard, face nuzzling between her breasts. The contrast between the soft tease of his lips and the rough touch of his chin made her torso arch under him. He buried his face there, not touching anything in particular, but still turning her on more than she ever had been before.

He left his face there but moved his hands to her hips, gripping her belt loops before roughly yanking at the denim of her jeans to throw them aside. As soon as they were out of the way, his face started to move lower. Slowly, slowly, at a pace she was sure could drive her mad, he drifted his way down between her legs. He planted a kiss on her pubic mound, making her whole pelvis jump. She was sure if he didn’t keep going she’d scream, so she buried her fingers in the downy hair at the base of his skull. He chuckled at her insistence before pouncing on her. His tongue pushed against her clit with a gentle insistence that might have thrown her over the edge right there, but as the rhythm of his tongue grew steady she stopped him.

Olivia grabbed his head, pulling him up to face her.

“Not like that.” She breathed in his ear.

One hand was caressing the bare skin of his back with smooth palms and gently scratching nails alike. The sound that came from him was guttural and deep, his eyes locking on hers as he lowered his mouth to one n****e and gave it a playful lick. She jumped with a sweet little gasp that grew into a much bigger one when he entered her.

He thrusted, and she wrapped her arms around his torso like she was holding on for dear life. Her fingertips slid along the hard planes of his biceps and stroked his hair, occasionally her nails would make an appearance across his back. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make him thrust into her more desperately at every turn. His arms could barely support his torso in the fever, and he started to hold onto Olivia’s instead. They were so warm, so alive, and the heat between their bodies was just growing. The slide of skin on skin was all the stimulation either one needed.

They came together, gasping, bodies rocking through the aftershocks of their c****x until they simply collapsed in one another’s arms. At first they didn’t move, electing instead to remain wrapped together between soft sofa cushions and the roaring fireplace. They would eventually rise, get cleaned up and go to bed, but for the time being they were happy in the fog left by their connection.

The next morning wasn’t so much a morning as it was an afternoon. Olivia wasn’t sure what time Byron had crawled out of bed, but she didn’t see the light of day until two o’clock.

When she first woke alone in the big plush bed she felt a curious sense of emptiness. That space was quickly filled with dread as the previous night’s events (prior to her arrival) flooded back into her mind. The looming questions of her ordeal were still there, still hanging over her head in the worst of ways. There was no good answer, she realized. There was no good answer as to why she was being followed. She was so certain of the intentions of her pursuers that she felt helpless in the face of it. Nobody gets stalked by the lotto people. The person who follows her from a block away cannot possibly mean her well.

There was no innocuous option, no positive outlook. Not even the bright sunlight that was washing across the clean miasma of linens around her could melt away the cold lump of helpless defeat in her chest.

Byron managed to sneak up on her, she would have to get her hearing checked. The small shock she got when he climbed into bed was more than made up for by the sensation of his warm body pressed against her back. His arm looped around her waist.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, words murmured into what she was sure was a mess of an afro.

“’About how you’d expect.”

“Yeah.” He sighed.

Instead of trying to do that which he knew he could not, Byron settled himself around her with a little huff. She wanted to comfort him by smiling, by making a joke, but she couldn’t.

“What do you need from me?”

She tried to think about it honestly, both because she knew she needed help and she knew he needed to help her.

“Breakfast?” She asked, unable to think of anything else.

“Sure! Banana pancakes sound good? It’s either that or regular pancakes, because that’s all I know how to make. I also have fruit.”

“Pancakes are great.”

As Byron walked out of the room, she called after him.

“Hey!” She snatched his glasses off of the table next to her. “Don’t you need these?”

Byron looked startled, but he got over it quickly.

“Oh, right, of course. Thanks!”

Olivia laughed and flopped back into the bed’s soft embrace until she smelled pancakes.

The pancakes were actually delicious. Olivia had a feeling Byron underestimated his own cooking skills for lack of anyone else to feed. It was hard not to notice the state of his apartment. She hadn’t been able to tell what felt so off the first time she went there, but had realized it the moment they went to bed: It was blank.

There were very few personal items in the apartment, it was decorated like a high-end hotel room, with matching pieces of furniture that were undoubtedly selected by a designer along with everything else in the space. There were no photos around, not very many books. His second bedroom was filled to the brim with tech, the space split into a small office and workshop. There were magazines around with his name on them, a few more personal items in the kitchen and bedroom, but very little to say very much about the young man inside.

She also couldn’t help but notice that he hadn’t spoken to any of the friends he’d mentioned the entire time they were at the technology convention on their first date. He’d waved at some people, acknowledged others when they came up to him, but he didn’t do much more than that.

Olivia was starting to get the impression that Byron didn’t have very many friends at all. Many of the people he referred to that way seemed to be business associates, but he always called them his friends.

After all, he would remind her, he doesn’t really work for the same people they do.

“So who do you work for?”

“I usually work for individual causes for a while before moving on. Right now I’m working with the environmental lobby on securing some important assets.”

Olivia nodded, only understanding what he was describing as vagaries.

She glanced down at the newspaper on his counter.

“Hey, Kids Make Code is in the news. Isn’t that great?”

Byron nodded.

“Sounds like it. What do they do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well do they make code to cure cancer, or...?” He teased her, laughing.

“No, it’s a program that teaches kids computer code and helps them make their own games and applications.” Olivia paused, puzzled. “Bill Stockton runs it. It’s his charity. Is it not the one you worked with him on?”

Byron had his back to he while he scraped off the frying pan.

“No, not personally. He’s got his fingers in all sorts of pies, we worked on an internet censorship cause.”

“Oh.” Olivia couldn’t shake the odd feeling . “That’s interesting.”

It wasn’t. Byron was an unbelievable man, but his job often sounded boring as sin. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder at the vague nature of his answers.

Once the breakfast dishes were stowed away, Byron sat next to her and placed her hand on her knee.

“So, do you want to talk about last night?”

He seemed to smell some hesitation in the air, because he quickly followed it up with “I’m not saying we have to. It can wait a day.”

“No it can’t. She sighed. “What if I have to go to the police? What am I going to say? Sorry officer, but a scary car followed me three days ago.”

When she looked up, Byron seemed weary.

“Do you think you should go to the police?” He questioned, skepticism clear.

“Why on Earth wouldn’t I?” She asked, genuinely shocked.

“Well,” He sighed, hesitant. “Haven’t you considered who might be behind this?”

“Of course I have! Why, do you know who it is?”

“No!” he protested. “No, I certainly don’t. But...”

Olivia was getting fed up. She locked eyes with him.

“What?”

“You did piss off a pretty powerful guy at work, one who’s clearly trying to hide something.”

“Parker?” Olivia was shocked. “That little weasel? He wouldn’t have the guts to come talk to me in my own office, much less follow me around town.”

“I’m not saying it’s him that’s doing the following.” Byron reasoned. “I just think you’re right. What you said last night is true. You’re really not the kind of person who gets targeted based on anything you do in the everyday. If it was Parker, though, the timing would add up. “

Olivia shook her head. this was crazy.

“This is crazy.”

“Olive,” Byron sighed, all but pleading with her from his chair. “I know you love your job, I do. I know you love working at Black Earth. But, they’re a pretty powerful force. There are people in congress who are called “Black Earthers” for a really specific reason. I’m not saying your friends are targeting you, I’m just saying that this would be an awfully big coincidence.”

Olivia’s mind was reeling. The thought of anyone at Black Earth meaning her harm was something that was genuinely difficult to grasp. She’d gone to work there as a recent graduate, all but building their current systems from the ground up. Black Earth had taken good care of her.

Yet, the timing.

Byron was right. The timing was coincidental on a level not usual. While it was difficult to suspect the company itself, though, it was pretty easy to see the high-strung Doctor Parker going to some extreme rage over an email. Maybe this was the work of a psycho after all.

Olivia got up, stepping out onto the cold stone floor of Byron’s balcony, which was nearly the size of her bedroom. None of the muggy heat from the previous day remained. The cloud cover was thick, the breeze cold. The air smelled like rain.

Byron followed her outside, a hooded sweatshirt in his hand. He wrapped it around her shoulders, eyes creased with concern.

“I’m sorry.” Was all Olivia could manage. “You’re right. It could be something to do with work. We’ve even had employees harassed by protesters before. They once followed the cafeteria lady home.”

Byron squeezed her tight, mouth hardening into a s***h on his face.

“Whatever this is, I don’t think it’s something as silly as that. You told me this guy would move off the street and return later. You said he kept his distance, he hid his face, and he drove away when he saw you’d made the car. This sounds like someone who knows what they’re doing.”

It was hardly news, and it certainly wasn’t a comfort. Olivia only nodded.

“It’s why I’m not sure about you going to the cops.”

“Huh?”

“You know who are really good at stalking people and often moonlight for corporations?”

Olivia’s eyes widened.

“Oh.” She said it so softly she wasn’t sure he heard her.

“So, just in case, I want you to have these.”Byron pulled away, one hand reaching into his pocket.

He brought out a little box, one that might have been used to hold a fine piece of jewelry.

Olivia took the box from him, surprised by it’s weight.

Inside the box were two BuzzBud, one in silver and one in gold. Olivia looked up at him, eyes questioning.

“I worked out a thing for the guy who’s making them. One’s for you to give to Rita so you don’t need to worry about her and Nelly so much.”

Olivia stood there, dumb with the weight of her own feelings. Then she threw her arms around Byron, finally starting to cry a few of the shocked tears that hadn’t had a chance to escape during the previous evening.

Byron held her close, murmuring comforts in her ear until she finished. When she saw the large tear stain she’d left on his shirt she chuckled, wiping her face with the sleeve.

“It’s all good.” He assured her. “Stuff’s great for the skin.”

It made her hiccough in laughter. The joke wasn’t that funny, but she still laughed until she thought she might cry all over again. Maybe it was stress, maybe it was hysteria, but that stupid non-joke let her break free from what had happened the night before.

Once she was done, she felt ready. When Rita called as promised, she didn’t mention the car or the man who’d followed her. Rita, she decided, would stay out of this entirely.