The Thorne at My Side

CHAPTER 13

Sisters and Situations

AUSTIN

I am so fucked.

When her taste, smell, the fucking beautiful sounds she made, flooded my senses, my chest pinched and I struggled to breathe. The sip of beer after going down on her only washed her more deeply into me.

I don’t hate Maggie Collins.

Not even a little.

I admire her. I like her. I want to give her things. I want to take care of her. My painful erection is testament to my physical desire, but I could enjoy myself just as much if we spent the night talking.

So, I bailed. I’m not supposed to feel things for Maggie Collins. My feelings are reserved for TalkShopGirl, the woman I’ve developed a connection to through words alone.

I limp as quickly as I can to my bedroom and pull out the SMS Connect phone.

DCFOX: I know we still have a few weeks before we meet, and that we can’t send pictures, but I have an idea.

Please message me back if you see this tonight. I silently beg her, hoping the universe will deliver the plea.

I slide out of my clothes and then into bed with only my boxer briefs on. The ceiling swims in my vision as the blood courses away from my brain. If TalkShopGirl doesn’t reply in a few minutes I’ll need to take a shower. I squeeze my eyes shut to try and avoid seeing Maggie as her orgasm climbs to its peak.

It doesn’t work.

The passion in her crystal blue eyes as she shared what she believes in is only slightly less sexy.

Everything about her drives me wild.

Ping.

My head whips to the phone.

TalkShopGirl: What is your idea?

Fuck. Yes. I need to play this right.

DCFox: There’s something to be said for chemistry, right?

TalkShopGirl: There is…

That’s my girl.

DCFox: Could we test our chemistry tonight?

I pull myself out past the waistband while I wait for her to respond. Usually when I jack off in the shower it's to a mental collection of body parts, waves of hair, feminine curves, painted lips.

Tonight, I’m going to picture a woman holding a phone. Maybe another toy.

TalkShopGirl: How would we do that?

I sit up straight and type quickly.

DCFox: I’d like to exchange texts while we masturbate. I want to feel as physically connected to you as I do to your words.

TalkShopGirl: I’m in.

I sigh with relief. This is insane, to feel proud of myself that she’s put her trust in me. I’m a faceless set of words on a screen to her. But she’s somehow full of life to me.

DCFox: Start by getting comfortable.

TalkShopGirl: Done.

DCFox: I’m lying in bed, fisting my cock. It’s already hard.

She could get scared off at any moment, but if I’m not myself here, we have no chance of a future together.

TalkShopGirl: I’m naked in bed, too.

TalkShopGirl: And I’m wet.

Fuck me.

DCFox: Are you going to use your fingers? Or a toy ?

TalkShopGirl: Fingers.

DCFox: Lick them and run your hand down your body. Circle your nipples. I bet they’re fucking perfect, aren’t they?

TalkShopGirl: What are you going to do?

DCFox: Try not to come, yet.

TalkShopGirl: Circle your nipples too.

DCFox: Yes ma’am.

I’m not worried about our chemistry anymore. Not one bit. TalkShopGirl is right there with me.

TalkShopGirl: Would we fuck slowly in bed or hard and fast over a desk?

Stars dance in my vision as I try to catch up.

DCFox: Whatever my dirty girl wants, she gets.

TalkShopGirl: Desk.

DCFox: You’re perched on the edge for me.

I fist my cock roughly and after a few strokes of self-loathing I give in. All I picture is Maggie. She's sitting on her desk with her legs open for me. Leaning back on her elbows and the smile on her face is powerful and dirty.

I’ll never tell TalkShopGirl that I pictured another woman while we shared this. It isn’t cheating but it doesn’t feel exactly right either..

TalkShopGirl: In nothing but my black heels.

I groan out loud.

DCFox: I’d sling those heels over my shoulder and taste you.

DCFox: A long lick stopping right at your clit.

TalkShopGirl: Yes.

DCFox: Where are your hands?

TalkShopGirl: On my tits, scraping through your hair.

TalkShopGirl: Right now? I’m two knuckles deep inside myself.

DCFox: One finger or two?

TalkShopGirl: One

DCFox: Add another.

I stroke myself as I picture Maggie going two fingers deep on herself. I can feel her heat on my own hand as I force myself to breathe. The intensity of this moment we’re sharing is overwhelming .

TalkShopGirl: I’m close.

DCFox: Me too.

TalkShopGirl: I’m going to set the phone down on my chest to finish.

DCFox: Think of me pinning you to the desk.

DCFox: Driving my cock into you.

DCFox: Giving you everything you need while taking what I want.

I close my eyes and squeeze myself as the Maggie in my mind shifts to her knees and is below me. I hold my dick out for her and my knees shake as I imagine her swallowing me. A sweat breaks out across my back.

I inhale, my dick swells, and the image changes. Maggie is back on the desk, naked except for the black heels propped on the edge.

Imagination Austin steps between her thighs and she reaches up to grasp me by the shoulders. I pump myself aggressively as I imagine sinking into her bare. Holding her by the crook of her neck and slinging her heels over my shoulder. Roughly returning everything she gives me. Watching her face splinter with building tension.

Her ocean blue eyes widen under me as I fuck my hand and explode my release as her head falls back in my imagination.

DCFox: TalkShopGirl, are you still with me?

TalkShopGirl: Yes. I’m here. Just breathing. Smiling. Satisfied.

I slowly glide over my deflating erection before letting it hang heavy between my legs. I’ll shower in a minute but for now I want to imagine snuggling up with a woman. Maggie.

DCFox: I think we’re killing this SMS Connect thing.

TalkShopGirl: I agree.

DCFox: Good night, TalkShopGirl.

TalkShopGirl: Good night, DCFox. ;)

I smile to myself before sliding out of bed. I was wound up after being at Maggie’s but this impromptu session confirmed that TalkShopGirl and I are compatible beyond the words we exchange.

Did we just cross a line? Will we be able to go back to our normal exchanges? I can’t even fathom what it’ll be like to meet her for the first time.

I let out a deep exhale before swinging my legs over the side of the bed. For one moment I allow myself to worry that meeting TalkShopGirl will leave me wanting.

Wanting someone like Maggie Collins.

◆◆◆

Even after a satisfying shower, I couldn’t get Maggie’s impassioned words out of my head. I channeled her influence into some research. Sure as shit, she was right. Not that I’m surprised. She hardly seems like the type to say things that aren't true. Especially about something she's so passionate about.

And all this women empowerment research has me walking into my sister's room.

"Elle, did you know that women do business better than men?" I ask as I sit down on the stool she has next to her closet so she can reach the top shelf.

"No shit they do, but why are you suddenly discovering this?"

"I just heard some stats tonight that got me thinking."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, it's not a big deal."

"Does it have something to do with why you came home and got in the shower right away?" She snickers as she tilts her head inquisitively.

"You weren't home, how'd you know I went to the shower right away?"

“Austin, I was sitting at the dining table. I said hello. You just marched awkwardly to your room without noticing me at all." I don't appreciate the look Elle is giving me.

"I had a lot on my mind."

"Or your head?"

"Okay, this is not what I came in here to talk about."

"Let’s move on to why you were up and out of the apartment before I got home from class this morning. Is that what you came in here to talk about?"

"Why does everything sound sexual with you?"

"Answer the question."

“I was motivated to get up this morning.”

“Get it up! Whooha!” Elle bellows and holds up her hand for a high-five. I leave her hanging. “Oh c’mon! That was funny.”

"Moving on, I know you don’t work there but I figured you might know anyway. How many women are in management at Thorne?"

"Not many, why?"

"I'm reading stuff on women-run companies who outperform male-run peers."

"There's evidence?"

"Yeah, a few different articles."

"Any posted by Thorne?"

I stop to think about it. I used the AI Media search tool to start my research. It is designed to pull Thorne articles first but there weren't many.

"A few, not many. I'd have to check the sources of the others."

"That doesn't surprise me. I feel like a lot of our articles take a traditional white male point of view."

"They do?"

She laughs, "yeah, of course you haven't seen it." She tsks like I should know better.

"Hey, that's not fair," I start but she might be right.

"How many women helped you write the code for AIM?"

"I'm not sure. Why?"

"Because if you're writing for women there's a different tone, different words you can use to be more effective. It might be worth looking into so that you make the most of your fancy new technology."

"Hm," I say and then I lift myself off the stool and head back to my room. I email Elizabeth with questions and ask her to set up a call with Tyler so I can ask him the questions Elle asked me. She responds within a few minutes reporting that we only had a few women on the project and they didn't work on the whole code, just sections of it. She attached the HR assignments for the project as evidence .

My sleep wasn’t restful. I tossed and turned and each time I slipped into consciousness my mind would turn to fixing this. The next day dawns and I feel a storm cloud settle in around my shoulders. It brewed as I got ready for work. As Greg drove me across town to the office. As I said a quiet good morning to Elizabeth who eyed me sideways for my lack of usual enthusiasm.

The day has been full of meetings and brainstorming solutions to our inclusion problem and the looming lawsuit. Not helping me focus is the fact that Maggie is in my mind anytime I'm not actively working. And she might be there when I am actively working because I find myself asking very Maggie-like questions.

Her voice is in my head as she asks me, “Are there biases in your recruitment process that might deter female candidates?”

And, “What strategies can be implemented to foster allyship and support from male colleagues once women have been hired?”

Or, “When are you going to make a woman the leader of the project?”

I slide my glasses off and flip them to my desk. Overcoming decades of gender bias is not for the faint of heart. As I lean back and press the heels of my hands into my eye sockets, Elizabeth knocks lightly at my door.

“Mr. Thorne,” she says clearly.

“Austin, Elizabeth, call me Austin.”

“Yes sir, I wanted to remind you of your appointment with Allegra Sinclair this evening. I’ve scheduled you a table at The Ned for 8:00.”

I slide my glasses back on and notice that it is 7:30 already. “Thank you Elizabeth, you should have gone home hours ago.”

“My hours are your hours, sir.” She says with a little glance over the top of her glasses at me.

She’s been invaluable to me over the last several years. Elizabeth has seen me through a few failed relationships, helped our team clean up my social media presence and get me untagged from posts that past girlfriends have tried to burn me with, in fact, she’s my best line of defense. I screen my calls through her and once she knows I don’t want to talk to someone she shuts it down.

Except when it comes to Allegra Sinclair.

Even if I told Elizabeth that I didn’t want to talk to Allegra anymore she’d have to keep answering the calls; Al is on Dad’s “ approved list ”.

The Thornes and The Sinclairs have a long-standing family friendship. The kind that meant we “summered” together and would spend major holidays together over catered meals after getting professional family photos taken.

Allegra is a year younger than me and we’ve had an on-again, off-again thing going since high school. On when we’re in the same room. Off as soon as we’re not.

I’ve never scheduled a date with her, I’ve never taken her out to dinner. I’ve never even spent the night. A couple of years ago she left D.C. and moved up to New York to start a clothing line.

When she left she asked me if I’d come and visit her and I laughed. Then when I saw the look on her face I realized that she was serious and I tried to back track. I didn’t mean to hurt her feelings, but I thought we were on the same this-is-just-sex page.

The few times we’ve seen each other since her move, we’ve enjoyed the on-again aspects of our “friendship” but she has also tried to be more public about it. She’ll ask to meet for drinks or dinner. Or she’ll be waiting for me in the lobby of the office.

The last time she was in town, five months ago, she clung to my arm as we left dinner and when our picture was taken as she moved to get into the car she stopped, turned, and spelled her name for them. I asked her why she did that and she slid her hand up my thigh and said, “they should know who I am, don’t you think?”

It was at that moment I realized she expected me to propose to her. I spent the night considering it. Playing out a life with Allegra Sinclair as my wife. Even when I went back to her hotel room and we slid into bed together I pictured doing that with her every night for the rest of my life. Sex with her that night felt like a death march. Like I was going through the motions. Like I was obligated to fuck her.

The next morning I signed up for SMS Connect.

And after that exchange with TalkShopGirl last night I have no regrets about it at all.

Except maybe that I pictured Maggie.

And, I hope for etiquette’s sake, I can keep her particular shade of blue eyes from my mind when I meet Allegra tonight.

◆◆◆

"The designing is going really well. I've got a runway show set up for London which is exciting and it's all hands on deck to get that going now."

"That's great Al."

She curls her shoulders in, which does make her chest smoosh together as she slowly stirs her martini. Allegra is beautiful, all American, charming. All her charm is pointed at me but it’s ineffective. I think it’s because she isn’t Maggie Collins. I bite back a laugh because I cannot imagine Maggie ever acting this way. Blatantly hitting on me. No, her personal brand of flirting is to tell me I’m dumb.

That’s fine, I’m hot for teacher.

"So, are you taking me back to your place?" She asks as she drags a manicured red nail across the back of my hand.

"Ah, no, Elle is there."

"Why is your half-sister living with you?" Allegra scrunches up her nose in disgust and pulls her hand back.

"Because she's my sister." I reply gruffly and then I signal the waitress for our check. I don't need to be here any longer. And I don’t need to defend my decisions to support family or Elle’s life choices.

Allegra reaches across the table again and skates her long nails up my hand. A shiver starts to rock me. I try to suppress it because I do not want any bodily responses associated with Allegra anymore.

"Maybe you can come back to mine then?"

"I'm sorry, Allegra, I've got an early morning so I'm going to head back."

She sits up straight and scoffs.

"Seriously Austin? Why did I even come here tonight? You've barely made conversation, you're not excited about my business," she pauses and her eyes widen. "Is that because you don't want your wife to work?"

"What?" I cough out with a laugh.

"I asked if you're being dismissive of my clothing line because you don't want to marry a woman with a job. You want a little housewife. A country club darling to just sit and drink long island iced teas in tennis whites while gossiping about all the other little wifeys they're friends with."

"You paint a pretty clear picture there Allegra but no, I'm not thinking that."

"Sure you're not," she replies indignantly.

"Allegra, I can assure you, I was not thinking about marrying you. When I do get married I want a partner, a teammate, someone who is interested in me, not just my last name.” I stand and watch her face turn to surprise at my outburst. I button my suit jacket and lean in. “And she will be the one to decide if she continues to work or not.”

I puff up my chest and walk away. It feels like TalkShopGirl would be proud of me for walking away and not engaging further. I slip the hostess my card and tell her to call Elizabeth to pay the bill and then I push myself out the door to the slightly chilly night air.

As I climb into the car my mind switches gears to Maggie. My body comes alive as I’m thinking about her lips. Then I picture her eyes and remember her impassioned speech that compelled me to get down on my knees in front of her.The way she got fired up about women running businesses got me harder than any foreplay has before. Maybe it's the work adversaries dynamic but she calls me on my shit and makes me think. No woman has done that before. My palms itch to press into her soft curves. Instead I pick up my phone.

AUSTIN: We didn’t establish this but is our arrangement exclusive?

Not that I’m considering sleeping with anyone else. Actually, I’m more concerned she might be. Senator Quinn’s team is traveling tomorrow, does she have someone to help relieve her stress on the road?

MAGGIE: It absolutely is Austin. I’m not okay being one of many.

What a cute, and quick, response. I smirk as I reply.

AUSTIN: I love when you get jealous.

MAGGIE: Shut up.

AUSTIN: Don’t worry MC, my physical therapy services are all yours.

AUSTIN: I’m like a ginormous Theragun that also brings treats.

MAGGIE: Ignoring you now.

I laugh as I picture Maggie’s eye roll. She’s too easy to rile up.

The shock in her voice when she asked why I brought coffee was worth the stop. I don’t know exactly what prompted me to bring coffee and flowers but it was probably Mom’s insistence that you never show up empty handed.

And I’ve had to show up to a lot of places over the years. It started when I was a star swimmer in high school and Dad realized having me at his side at parties humanized him. People saw him as a doting father when I can count on one hand the number of meets he came to. Mom and I started being his plus ones at backyard BBQs or informal lunches. Then in college he invited me to cocktail parties and business lunches. I realize now what I didn’t at the time, he was grooming me to be just like him.

By the time I graduated I could walk into a room of his colleagues and be recognized.

That’s one downside to being a Thorne. There are many, but the one that bothers me the most is that people only seem to want me for my last name. They only want to know me to get closer to Dad. A lot of women only want the attention that comes with being seen with me. That dynamic becomes abundantly clear when I would rather stay home from a party and they say "well I'm going and it'll look bad if you're not with me".

It's in those moments that I get dressed, go to the event because I’m polite, get pictured with her on my arm, and then within a few days make sure Elizabeth has arranged for all of the little things girls leave around my apartment to be packed and left in the lobby.

It was fortuitous that I saw an ad for SMS Connect the morning after Allegra brought up the prospect of marriage. I remember feeling relief that finally I'd have the chance to meet someone who was interested in everything besides my face and last name.

As I let myself into my apartment I see that the lights are off which means Elle is either not home or already in bed. I make my way to my room and after changing into my Ron Dorff sweats, I pull out my SMS Connect phone.

With an arm propped up behind my head I start to scroll through the messages TalkShopGirl and I have exchanged.

Arousal spikes as last night’s notes dance across the screen.

But I keep going back into our history, all there in front of me. I find myself laughing quietly when she's describing how she has a love-hate relationship with dairy.

How she describes her family as "so small town they don't even know it" because they've never seen any other way. How she immediately wrote another message telling me she felt bad for saying that, and she really loves her mom and dad, and her sister is a lot younger, and ended up at home for good reasons while her brother doesn't even live around there anymore so he doesn't really count.

I shared frustrations about my family too. I talked about Brinkley who I'm realizing has taken quite a liking to Elle and hasn't been hanging around me as much lately.

I scroll back to the most recent message and take the phone in both hands to start writing my next.

DCFox: Hey TalkShopGirl, I’ve been thinking of you all day. Not just because last night was, in a word, hot, but because you’ve become a moral compass to me.

Do you ever become the worst version of yourself? The one that you hate but feel like it's such an ingrained part of you that you'll always be that way a little bit.

I got annoyed with someone tonight and I lashed out. It wasn't their fault what they said hit at the most insecure parts of me. But in the moment, I couldn't control that the hurt part of me was who responded. I hope I wasn't too harsh with this person but I'm also so frustrated by their lack of understanding.

As I walked away I felt proud of myself for not going further. For getting myself out of that dynamic. And I wanted you to be proud of me too.

I'm lying here realizing that you don't know me but you might know me better than anyone else.