Gentle Hands
"What do you want for breakfast?" She asked as she followed him out of the bedroom.
"You know how to cook?" He asked in astonishment. Didn't most girls just know how to make ramen these days?
"Well yes. How else would I eat every day? I don't have a chef like some people." She teased him.
"I'm not sure what you have on hand. Anything will do." He muttered as though it wasn't important. Yet he was curious.
She put on a cartoon character apron over her dress and started working. Dough sticks were quickly deep fried and she heated a bowl of sweet soy milk for the dough sticks. She poured congee into bowls and scooped up plates of savory rice noodles. She poured cups of morning tea and then brought everything to the table.
"I wasn't sure what you liked. I hope this will do." She told him.
He said nothing, but was secretly impressed.
"How was it?" She asked when he finished.
"It was okay." He said blandly. He was lying. It was amazing. Gemma was basically the perfect woman, except he couldn't love her. His ability to love had been killed when he was young.
"Next time tell me what you like and I'll make that. Maybe it will be better than okay." She stuck her tongue out at him.
"Next time?! Who says there will be a next time?" He looked at her askance.
"Based on the fact you've been to my apartment two nights in a row. She said as she grabbed her briefcase.
"We better get to the office. You have an important meeting first thing." She told him.
His driver was already waiting for him. He seemed very surprised that Charles had spent the night at Gemma's but he was paid to be discreet, among other things, so he kept his mouth shut.
They arrived at the company and exited the car together. They walked in together. They took the elevator together. People took pictures of them together...and posted them to the company forum.
By lunch time it had spread throughout the company. Charles had The IT department remove the photos. He felt a headache coming on. Gemma knocked and entered.
"Here's your itinerary for your business trip, plane ticket, and information about your hotel." She dropped the file on his desk and looked at him.
"President Wen, are you alright?" She asked.
"What? Oh. Just a headache." He muttered.
She said nothing but walked around his desk and began rubbing his temples. He pulled away and stared at her.
"What are you doing?" He asked warily.
"Trying to help your headache. I'm your personal assistant, right?" She asked.
"This wasn't in the job description!" He growled.
"Consider me an overachiever." She said.
He sighed and turned his desk chair in her direction. She stood directly in front of him to continue massaging his head.
He looked down at her body, standing between his legs, pressed so close to him. He felt her hands slowly moving over his entire head. It was a strange mixture of arousal from how she stood so close and relief from her gentle ministrations.
Her hands worked over the back of his head to his neck. He moaned, his head falling forward. She worked on his neck for awhile and then moved to his shoulders.
"How do you feel now?" She asked softly.
His headache was gone, but he didn't want her to stop. How long had it been in his life since someone had touched him with such kindness? And yes, such love. He knew what motivated her. He would have been very young, before his mother left since he experienced something so comforting and gentle. After his mother left, there was no one to balance his father's cruelty.
Without taking time to think it through, he pulled her into his lap and buried his face in her neck.
"What—" She began but he interrupted her.
"Just let me hold you." He demanded. She wrapped her arms around him in a hug.
She was beginning to understand that somehow, he had lacked physical affection in his youth. She assumed because he grew up without a mother that he had been neglected in this area, for he seemed to seek it from her, despite his insistence that he would never let her in his heart. She wondered if the very tenderness he sought would eventually bring down all those walls.