I arrived at Trattoria Bella fifteen minutes early, which gave me plenty of time to second-guess every decision I ever made. I did however get us a nice quiet table in the corner and ordered us a very nice bottle of wine. I hope she likes white wine.
I see her walk through the front doors and the hostess guided her to our table. I quickly stood up, nearly knocking over my chair. "Wow, you look amazing." I said looking over her every curve a little too long.
"Thank you, Travis. You're looking good too," she said with a slight smile, sitting down and smoothing her red dress. "I appreciate you choosing a place completely disconnected from work." I watched her take in the restaurant, soft lighting, slow music playing in the background. Calming atmosphere.
"This place is perfect," she said, accepting the wine I'd already ordered. "Very... private."
"I figured we both needed somewhere we could just be ourselves without worrying about who might see us." I poured her wine, trying not to notice how the candlelight caught the gold flecks in her eyes. "So, Calliope. That's not a name you hear every day."
She laughed, a real laugh that was nothing like her professional tone. "My mother was obsessed with Greek mythology. Calliope was the muse of epic poetry and eloquence." She took a sip of wine. "She thought it would make me destined for greatness."
"Did it work?"
"Depends on your definition of greatness, I suppose." Her expression grew more serious. "What about you? Travis Kingston sounds like you should be riding horses and saving damsels in distress."
"Close. I was mostly fixing broken tractors and helping elderly ladies with their heating bills." I leaned back in my chair. "Though I guess the damsel-saving thing isn't too far off, considering what you did for Mrs. Patterson."
"That wasn't damsel-saving. That was connecting someone with resources they should have had access to all along." She paused, swirling her wine. "Can I ask you something? Why were you trying to solve everyone's problems from four hours away? That level of responsibility... it's not normal."
The question hit deeper than I expected. "You really want to know?"
"I really want to know."
I took a long drink of wine, buying myself time. "My dad died when I was sixteen. Heart attack, completely unexpected. He was the guy everyone in town went to when they needed help—fix your roof, lend you money, drive you to the hospital at two in the morning. After he died, people just... started coming to me instead."
Calliope's expression softened. "That's a lot of pressure for a sixteen-year-old."
"I didn't know how to say no. Still don't, really. It felt like if I stopped helping people, I'd be letting him down somehow." I met her eyes. "What you did in that coffee shop—showing me that helping people didn't have to mean drowning myself—nobody's ever done that before."
She was quiet for a moment, studying my face. "My turn for a confession?"
I nodded.
"I spent most of my childhood in foster care. Seven different homes between ages six and eighteen." She said it matter-of-factly, but I caught the slight tension in her shoulders. "Some were good, some were... not. But I learned early that the only person you can really count on is yourself."
"Is that why you do what you do now? The foundation work?"
"Partly. But also because I know what it feels like to be powerless, to need help and not know how to ask for it." She took another sip of wine. "When I saw you in that coffee shop, trying to manage everyone else's crises while your own life was falling apart... I recognized something."
"What did you recognize?"
"Someone who gives everything to everyone else and never asks for anything in return." Her voice was softer now, more vulnerable than I'd heard it. "Someone who thinks their worth is measured by how much they can carry for other people."
The waiter appeared to take our dinner orders, breaking the intensity of the moment. After he left, Calliope reached across the table and touched my hand briefly.
"For the record," she said, "you're worth more than what you can do for other people."
I felt something shift in my chest, something that had been tight for years suddenly loosening. "You too."
"What do you mean?"
"You said the only person you can count on is yourself. But maybe that's not true anymore." I turned my hand palm up under hers. "Maybe we can count on each other."
She didn't pull her hand away. "That's a dangerous thing to say to someone who's funding your project."
"I'm not saying it to the CEO of the Portland Family Foundation. I'm saying it to Cali, who bought a stranger coffee and changed his life in ten minutes."
Her smile was different this time—not professional, not guarded, just real. "This is definitely going to complicate things."
"The best things usually do."
After dinner we walked around the small area. There was a small motel, a gas station, a small grocery store and the single restaurant we just ate at. I looked down at my watch- the one that my dad gave me- it read eight twenty PM.
The streetlights were just starting to flicker on, casting a soft glow over the quiet parking lot. I was holding Cali's heels, she said her feet hurt from walking around.
"Would you like me to rub them?" The question came out way before my brain could process what I just said. I looked at her and she was blushing.
"I'm sorry, could you repeat what you just said?" She said, sounding a little shy now. Her whole professional shell is gone.
Now I'm blushing. "Would you like me to rub your feet?" I said a little softer.
"Where would we go for you to do that?" She asked looking me in the eyes now. Seemed a little hard for her though, since I am 6 foot 4 inches and she's maybe 5 foot 2 inches.
"We could go to the motel." I suggested.
She looked at the motel, then back at me, something unreadable flickering across her face. "That's... that would definitely cross a line we probably shouldn't cross."
"Probably not," I agreed, but neither of us moved toward our cars.
"I mean, we just established ground rules about keeping work separate from personal." She was still holding my arm for balance, her bare feet on the cool pavement.
"We did."
"And getting a motel room would be the opposite of maintaining professional boundaries."
"It would be."
She was quiet for a long moment, looking down at her feet, then up at me. "Room twelve is available. I saw the vacancy sign when we walked past."
My heart did something complicated. "Cali..."
"I know. I know this is complicated and messy and probably a terrible idea." She stepped closer, close enough that I could smell her perfume mixed with the wine we'd shared. "But I haven't felt this... present... in years. Like I'm actually here instead of just managing everything from a distance."
I cupped her face gently, my thumb tracing her cheekbone. "Are you sure?"
Instead of answering, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed me. It was soft at first, tentative, like she was testing the waters. Then I kissed her back and something ignited between us. Her hands fisted in my shirt, pulling me closer, and I wrapped my arms around her waist, lifting her slightly off the ground.
When we broke apart, we were both breathing hard.
"Room twelve," she whispered against my lips.
The motel room was exactly what you'd expect—floral bedspread, wood paneling, the faint smell of industrial cleaning supplies. But the moment the door closed behind us, none of that mattered.
"I haven't done this in a while," Cali said, suddenly seeming nervous as she set her purse on the small table by the window.
"Done what? Gotten a motel room?"
"Trusted someone enough to let them see me without all the armor." She gestured vaguely at herself, though she was still fully dressed. "The professional shell, the careful control, all of it."
I sat on the edge of the bed and patted my lap. "Feet first, remember? We can take this as slow as you want."
She smiled, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. "You're really going to rub my feet?"
"I'm a man of my word."
She settled onto the bed beside me, swinging her legs across my lap. Her feet were small and delicate, with red nail polish that matched her dress. I started with gentle pressure along her arches, and she made a soft sound of contentment.
"Oh my god, that feels amazing." She leaned back against the pillows, her eyes fluttering closed. "Where did you learn to do this?"
"YouTube, mostly. Mrs. Patterson has arthritis in her feet, so I learned some basic massage techniques to help her out."
She opened her eyes and looked at me with something that might have been wonder. "You learned foot massage for an elderly woman with arthritis?"
"It wasn't a big deal."
"Travis, it was a huge deal. To her, and..." She trailed off, but I caught the implication.
"And to you?"
"And to me." She sat up slightly, studying my face. "You take care of people. Not because you have to, not because it benefits you somehow, but because you genuinely care about their well being."
"So do you. Look what you did for me, for Mrs. Patterson, for Tommy..."
"That's different. That's my job, it's what I'm trained to do." She shifted so she was facing me more directly. "What you do comes from somewhere else entirely."
I moved my hands from her feet to her ankles, then slowly up her calves. She didn't stop me, just watched my face as I touched her.
"Cali," I said quietly, "can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
"When was the last time someone took care of you? Not professionally, not because they wanted something from you, but just because they wanted you to feel good?"
She was quiet for so long I thought she wasn't going to answer. Then: "I honestly can't remember."
Something in her voice broke my heart a little. I leaned forward and kissed her forehead, then her cheek, then her soft lips.
Her response was soft, almost hesitant. She leaned into the kiss, her hands sliding up my chest, fingers tracing the line of my shirt collar. When we broke apart, her eyes were searching mine, looking for something beyond the physical moment.
Her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, the professional CEO and the community liaison disappeared. There was just Cali and I. In this small motel room. Some random TV show on the small early 2000's TV.
My hands started to move up to her legs towards her waist. I heard her breathing get more heavy. "Travis," She breathes. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
"More than anything. I need to show you how it feels to be taken care of." I breathe. Her eyes meet mine, a mix of desire and hesitation. "Not just physically," I add softly, my hands move up to the zipper on the back of her dress. "But mentally and emotionally as well."
Her hands trembled slightly as she met my gaze. "Slowly," she whispered, a mix of vulnerability and desire in her voice.
I moved with deliberate gentleness, my fingers tracing the zipper, watching her face for any sign of hesitation. The dress fell away, revealing soft skin and a gorgeous tan. Her breath caught in her throat, and I paused, my hands gently placed on her back. "Do you want to do this? I'll stop if you don't."
She looked into my eyes, her vulnerability visible in a way I'd never seen before. "Yes," she whispered, her hand reaching up to touch my face. "But not just physically. I want... I want you to see me. All of me."
I understood exactly what she meant. This wasn't just about physical intimacy, it was about connecting on a deeper level, a level where only we know about.
"Cali," I murmured. Let me see all of you right now." I unsnapped her black push-up bra and watched it fall.
"You are undressing me, but not yourself. That's not far." She teased. I grinned, my hands moving to the buttons of my shirt.
"You're right. Let me fix that for you." I take off my shirt, under shirt, and my boots. She watches me, her eyes tracing the lines of my body with a mixture of lust and desire.
I leaned in close, my breath soft against her neck. "Hey," "Breathe with me," I whispered, my hands gently tracing her back. I can feel how hard I was in my pants.
"Let me help you." She smiles. She then unbuttons my pants and slides them down my legs. I still have my boxers on, but you can definitely see my size. I watched her eyes get huge.
I fully take my pants off and then get onto my knees. I slide my hands up her thighs, right up to her pantie line. She gasps when I slide them down her long legs. "What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to release me." She whispered, also sounded like begging. Which turned me on even more.
I paused, looking into her eyes. The moment felt more profound than just physical desire. I understood exactly what she meant. This wasn't just about sex, it was becoming obvious that she needs to feel wanted. Not just from her job, that is a different kind of want.
I see her getting impatient. I slide my hand in between her thighs and I can feel her intense warmth. I pushed her legs apart and she moaned slightly. She probably didn't think I noticed. She's freshly waxed, and I can smell the slight scent of cocoa butter on her inner thighs.
She grabs my head and buries it between her thighs right in her sweet spot. I went right in, I couldn't tease myself anymore, I needed to taste her. My tongue glides across her pulsing clit.
Slow at first, making her beg me to go faster. I then do so.
Her hands tangled in my hair, her breath catching in soft, urgent gasps. Her moans growing louder with each lick. I can tell she's getting close to the finish line. Right before she's about to come, I stop licking.
"Hey! Why did you stop?" She begged.
Before she could say another word, I pressed my hard cock right at the entrance of her dripping pussy. She gasps as she can see just how big I am. I slowly slide in and she moans even louder.
"You're too big! You won't fit..." She's breathing very heavy now.
"I'll make it fit baby." I kept sliding in until I couldn't go more. I still had 4 inches of cock still on the outside. I can feel her back wall. "You're so fucking wet Cali," I started fucking her slow at first and got a little faster. "Fuck! You're so fucking tight and dripping for me."
Her moans have turned into slight screams with each thrust. I can feel she's about to cum.
"Cum for me baby! I'll cum with you." I couldn't hold back any longer. She came so hard, she soaked the bed. I finished as well, inside her. "Damn girl. I didn't know you were a soaker."
"I didn't either..." Her body quivered relentlessly from finishing so hard.
After a long relaxing shower for both of us, we fell asleep together. Thankfully the wet spot was at the end of the bed.
I woke up to sunlight streaming through the motel room's thin curtains and Cali's hair tickling my chest. For a moment, I forgot where we were, forgot about the complications waiting for us in the real world. She was curled against my side, one arm draped across my stomach, breathing soft and steady.
Then reality crashed back in. We had crossed every unprofessional line imaginable, and in a few hours, we'd both be back to being Mr. Kingston and Ms. Reed, pretending last night never happened.
Cali stirred, her eyes fluttering open. When she saw me watching her, a flush crept up her neck.
"Good morning," she said quietly, not moving away but suddenly seeming very aware of our naked bodies tangled together.
"Morning." I brushed a strand of hair from her face. "How are you feeling?"
She was quiet for a long moment, her fingers tracing absent patterns on my chest. "Complicated," she finally said. "But not regretful."
"Good. Because I was about to have a panic attack thinking you regretted this."
She lifted her head to look at me properly. "Travis, what we did last night... it was incredible. But we need to figure out how to handle this going forward."
I sat up slightly, pulling her with me. "What do you want to handle? Us, or the work situation?"
"Both. They're connected now whether we like it or not." She pulled the sheet up to cover herself, and I could see her professional armor starting to slide back into place. "I have a board meeting Monday morning. You have a community center project to manage. We can't pretend this exists in a vacuum."
"So what are you suggesting?"
She was quiet, thinking. "We keep work completely separate. When we're in professional settings, we're Ms. Reed and Mr. Kingston. No special treatment, no lingering looks, no inside jokes. The project has to succeed on its own merits."
"And outside of work?"
"Outside of work..." She met my eyes, and I saw vulnerability there again. "I'd like to see where this goes. But carefully. Privately. At least until we figure out if this is something real or just incredible chemistry."
I leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Cali, what happened last night wasn't just chemistry. At least not for me."
"What was it then?"
"It was you trusting me enough to let me see who you really are underneath all that professional armor. And me finally feeling like someone saw me as more than just the guy who fixes everyone's problems."
She was quiet for a moment, then smiled. "So we're doing this? Whatever this is?"
"We're doing this. But your rules make sense. Professional boundaries during work hours, and we figure out the rest as we go."
"There's one more thing." She sat up fully, wrapping the sheet around herself. "If at any point this starts affecting the project or either of our jobs, we stop. No questions asked."
"Agreed. But Cali?"
"Yeah?"
"I don't think it will come to that. I think we're both too good at what we do to let personal feelings compromise our work."
She smiled, and for the first time since we woke up, she looked relaxed. "I hope you're right."
We got dressed in comfortable silence, the weight of our conversation settling between us. As I watched her transform back into the polished CEO—hair pulled back, dress smoothed, professional mask sliding into place—I felt a pang of loss for the woman who had fallen apart in my arms just hours before.
"Travis," she said as we prepared to leave, her hand on the door handle. "Thank you. For last night, for this morning, for... seeing me."
"Thank you for letting me."
She kissed me once more, soft and lingering, before opening the door and stepping back into the world where we were just a foundation CEO and a community liaison working on a project together.
But now I knew what she looked like when she laughed without thinking about who might be watching. I knew the sound she made when she let go of control completely. And she knew that someone could take care of her without wanting anything in return.
Whatever happened next, that knowledge would change everything.
I watched her go back to her car, while getting into mine. I noticed someone watching her from across the street. I started my truck and the guy disappeared into the back alley way. "That was strange." I drove passed the alley he went down and didn't see anything unusual. But something about the way the guy had been watching Cali made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
I pulled out my phone and took a quick screenshot of the street view in my rear view mirror, just in case.