#111: Fallen: Fire and Redemption - Hot Wild Fuck in a Farmer's Market

***Julian Kauer***

After spending the entire night reviewing my bank account and considering which bank might lend me money, considering my fraud history, I decided to meet the guy Violet found.

Walter Davenport, owner of a few establishments. Where does he get the money to invest in them and be a partner? According to what I found out, he inherited a small fortune left by his father, a judge.

I highly doubt this guy only deals in clean money, but… who am I to judge? That’s never been my thing. As long as he doesn’t drag me into shit, I can give it a chance. So, I decided to meet him.

It was a surprise when, instead of him, I saw a blonde woman about five foot nine, who looked more like a model than a regular employee.

“Mallory Davenport, my father got busy, and I handle some of his meetings,” she said as she shook my hand.

Since I was already there, I decided to talk and see how it went. She seemed more professional than her father, who had that sleazy vibe that didn’t inspire trust. She showed me some of the businesses they’d partnered with, including the bistro we were in.

Well-decorated, busy, cozy, and very appealing place. I was convinced.

I’d still need to make some calls and dig a little more, as long as I didn’t owe anyone any favors this time, so I could feel safe. But we talked for hours, and before I realized it, it was already night.

I talked more about Violet than about myself. I gave her the censored version of our story, leaving out all the parts about criminals trying to screw me over since I got out of prison, the criminal and abusive father, the fact that she’s the daughter of one of my oldest best friends… just the parts that wouldn’t leave a bad impression.

She got curious, eager to meet Violet, who hadn’t wanted to come. She would’ve come if she had known it wouldn’t be a man in his sixties interviewing me, but a young, beautiful woman.

Not that it mattered now, as much as it hurt my pride to admit that tall, skinny blondes didn’t do it for me anymore. Now I could only think about the short Italian brunette waiting for me at home.

She acted weird before I left, but I didn’t think it was serious since she talked to me and didn’t curse me out. She just seemed a bit out of it.

So, when Mallory insisted on meeting Violet and selling her idea as well as she had sold it to me, eager to return home with a signed contract, I ignored the fact that Violet had ignored my calls earlier and decided to take Mallory over.

The house wasn’t super tidy, but it didn’t look like a dump either. It was our home, and I was going to be proud of it even on its worst days. I laughed to myself thinking that—it was just an excuse to justify the mess.

But nothing prepared me for what I saw when I opened that door.

First, I found it strange that the lights were off, but then I understood everything. The candles, the special wine, the food… Violet was trying to be romantic.

That made me laugh, not in a mocking way, but because I liked it. I felt appreciated, even if she wouldn’t believe me if I told her. But my smile faded fast as soon as I remembered the woman walking in behind me.

Shit, this was not what I had in mind. I even asked her not to mind the mess, but I didn’t expect the mess to be my girlfriend on the floor in a pornographic—and exciting, very exciting—scene.

I could’ve ignored Mallory right then and there and had sex with Violet until I was exhausted—or dead.

Death was still a possibility, judging by the murderous look Violet gave me when she saw that woman walk through the door.

I froze. Seriously, my brain went blank.

“I’d better go,” Mallory said quietly, stepping back. “We’ll talk later, Julian.”

I just nodded, trying to catch my breath. The door closed behind her, and silence took over the room again—heavy, tense, full of unspoken words.

Violet didn’t say a word. She stayed seated, firm, like she’d been sculpted into that floor. But I knew that look. It was a “if you open your mouth to say any bullshit, I swear to God I’ll bury you in the backyard with the pistachio ice cream spoon” kind of look.

“Who was that woman?” she finally asked, like the words hurt to spit out.

“Davenport was busy. He sent his daughter. Mallory.”

She raised an eyebrow, which, coming from Violet, was the equivalent of a slap in the face.

“Daughter?”

“Yeah.”

“Beautiful, tall, blonde, looks like she owns a diamond vibrator.”

“Probably,” I replied, trying not to laugh. “But honestly? No appeal compared to this right here.” I pointed at her, from head to wherever the robe allowed me to see.

She scoffed. But her cheeks turned red. And that gave me courage.

I walked toward her slowly, still respecting a safe distance. She could very well be armed with a pâté-spreading knife.

“Can I eat what you made?” I asked, looking at the immaculate board, full of the kind of detail only a damn good chef would bother with.

“No.” She crossed her arms. “That’s for men who don’t bring women home in the middle of a romantic date.”

“Touché.”

I stood there, taking it all in. The beautiful food, the perfect setup, the woman I love in a robe and an angry face. And, as strange as it was… I was laughing inside. Because she did this for me. For us.

And damn, she looked stunning. So beautiful, it made me want to get on my knees and thank the gods of luck for not letting me die before living this.

“You look... delicious, Violet.”

“I already said that today. Been repeating it mentally since I saw myself in the mirror.”

“Good to know you see yourself the way I see you. Makes my job easier.”

She was still pissed, but the corner of her mouth twitched. A smile is trying to come out.

I took advantage.

Grabbed a fig from the board. Held it out to her, offering.

She laughed and, before I could react, shoved the fig straight into my mouth. I chewed, surprised, and before I could swallow, she leaned in and kissed me.

Slow. Hot. Licking my lower lip, the taste of the fig mixing with the wine and her scent, and everything around us turning to smoke.

I slid my hand to the belt of her robe and pulled gently, trying to reveal more of her. But before the fabric showed anything, she grabbed my wrist.

“The mood’s gone.”

“You think?”

“It left with the model blonde.”

I stepped back, raising my hands in surrender.

“Okay. Fair. But, Vi... we’re gonna have our moment.”

She looked at me, serious.

“Will we?”

“We’re Julian and Violet. Walking chaos. Our special moment is gonna be a hot, wild fuck in the most unexpected place. Maybe at a farmers’ market, hidden behind the strawberry stand.”

She raised her eyebrow.

“You’re an idiot.”

“But I love you, so I can try to make it happen soon. I promise. I’ll be creative, babe.”

She took a deep breath and finally smiled.

“Let’s eat. I’m not wasting this fancy food.”

I pulled her into a hug. Arms around her waist, my face in her neck. We stayed like that for a few seconds.

“Thank you for this,” I whispered.

“I didn’t do it for you.”

“Of course not.”

I laughed.

We sat on the floor, side by side, sharing the figs, the cheese, the kisses, and the bad jokes.

The night didn’t end with sex.

But it ended with everything that mattered.

Her, me, and a charcuterie board made by a woman who pretends not to love, but pours herself into every detail.

And me, sitting there, wondering how I ended up in such a good place with such an incredible woman.

Luck, maybe.

Or karma.

Good karma, for the first time in my life.