by Kat T. Masen
“Oh wow, Julian, this is beautiful,” I say in awe.
A romantic gesture, but that’s Julian, he’s such a romantic guy.
He motions for me to take a seat, then he pours some wine into a glass. I’m not sure if I can handle any more alcohol, but I don’t want to offend him so I take tiny sips as he serves the first course.
We chat about the charity ball which led to a conversation about his work with Hungarian orphans. I watch him as he passionately tells the story about his journey and how much work he has done to help the children. The emotions are getting the better of him when he chokes up slightly. I lean and place my hand on top of his.
Here, before me, is a man who has a huge heart. He has so much compassion, more than anyone I’ve ever met.
Julian will never leave me without an explanation, nor will he ever hurt me so deeply.
And it always comes back to this.
Why am I constantly comparing him to Lex?
When we finish our meal, he clears the table while I wander back to the living room.
“Are you ready for your surprise now?”
His eyes dance as if a piece of forbidden fruit is being dangled before him.
I eagerly wait in anticipation as he walks out of the kitchen with a small plate of—wait! Is that? Yes, red velvet cupcakes with buttercream frosting.
“How did you know these are my favorite?”
My curiosity piques with drool almost trickling down the sides of my mouth
“A little birdie told me… Bakers in Brooklyn.”
That’s my favorite place in the whole world. They make the most scrumptious desserts, and these red velvet cupcakes are my weakness—next to Louboutins, of course.
“That’s funny, Bakers like your surname,” I point out.
“Yes, like my surname and my auntie’s.”
It takes a moment for the penny to drop. “Your aunty owns Bakers in Brooklyn? Julian, I could marry you right now.”
I lean over, positioning my body, so I’m straddling him. Grabbing the cupcake, I take a bite, closing my eyes and immersing myself in the different flavors. As I lick my lips, Julian’s hands sit nicely only my hips as he slowly grinds himself against me. I don’t know what feels better, the taste of him or the cupcake.
Then, he slowly pulls my dress above my thighs. His kisses move to my neck as he cups my ass making me moan, my eyes closing in delight.
The image of Lex plunging his fingers inside me flashes before me, breaking me from this moment. Letting out a whimper, my eyes open wide and in shock.
Oh fuck, I couldn’t have let him do that to me.
The sound of my phone vibrating in my purse interrupts us, a distraction that can’t be any more welcome. Julian pulls away like a gentleman, asking me if I need to answer it. I come up with an excuse about waiting for an important text from a client.
I just need to dissect the image—how every part of me begged for Lex to fuck me hard against the cold refrigerator door—but now isn’t the time. My ring almost jumps off my finger and punches me in the face, reminding me where I am, who I’m with, and most importantly—that I said yes.
Climbing off Julian, I take a deep breath while fumbling in my purse. The guilt is a chain around my neck, and worried he can sense it, I side-eye him only to see him fiddling with his watch.
You’re being paranoid. I obviously don’t have ‘I got fingered by my ex last night’ tattooed on my forehead.
Finally finding my phone, I pull it out with an unknown number on the screen.
Unknown number: Good evening, Charlotte, I want a chance to explain to you what happened last night. Please, it’s not what you think. Just let me explain. Lex.
How on earth did he get my number? Eric, the little snake.
Julian takes a call that comes through on his phone, excusing himself to the kitchen. I sit there, numb for ten minutes, wondering what I should reply with. I can’t come up with anything, so I send him a text asking him to explain.
Unknown number: I haven’t seen Samantha in eight years, not since I left her. Adriana told me she is going through a nasty divorce, and her ex is fighting for custody. She was drunk last night and wanted entry into the club, but I refused, and so she made a scene.
I don’t know what to believe. He told me he wouldn’t lie to me, yet this whole situation is one big fuck-up. Part of me wants to believe it’s true, but it still hurts like hell. Typing back, I ask him to check in the mirror to see if his nose is getting bigger. He responds quickly, turning my words around as usual.
Unknown number: My nose looks fine to me, can’t say that about other parts though.
Unable to hide the smile playing on my lips, it’s obvious some things never change. I’m not sure how to respond without encouraging his naughty behavior, but of course, my sadistic inner self is telling my fingers to type.
I quickly respond, Julian stepping back into the room, apologizing.
There’s a last-minute press conference tonight at town hall for a political scandal that has exploded, and I see it coming—he has to leave.
“I’m sorry, gorgeous.” He takes my hand, kissing my knuckles. “I promise when we live together and we’re married, it won’t be this bad.”
Marriage—the word strikes a chord best not played in my head right now.
This is the life of a journalist—chasing the lead.
I assure him I’m fine. We’ll have plenty of other nights to enjoy each other’s company. He kisses me deeply, thanking me for being so understanding.
On the cab ride back home, I play with my phone, desperately wanting to ask Lex about the kitchen, but I don’t want him to know I have no clue what happened. Using my tactics when in court, I try to hold the upper hand, not showing any weakness.
But Lex is a game-player, and his method is downright dirty.
Inside the cab, I squirm on the leather seat. When my apartment is in view, I can’t pay the driver any faster, exiting the cab and running upstairs in a mad rush.
Shutting the door behind me, I head straight for my room and change into my nightie. Quickly washing my face and brushing my teeth, I climb into bed despite the early hour.
I need to release this sexual tension and now.
Turning on my lamp, I reach into my bedside drawer and pull out my good friend, Mr. Rabbit. Relaxing, I place it in between my legs, slow swirls making the ache unbearable.
Dropping Mr. Rabbit on the bed, I slide my hand further, rubbing, delightfully surprised by how incredibly wet I am. I move faster, imagining Lex fucking me hard and fast against the wall. I remember how his cock would throb inside me, and how intense his thrusts were.
It’s enough to push me over the edge, an orgasm barreling through me as I arch my back and moan loudly.
Trying to catch my breath, poor Mr. Rabbit is lying helpless beside me. What a waste bringing him out.
With a satisfied smile, my eyelids become heavy, and I drift into a peaceful sleep.
And in my dreams, I only see his face, I only feel his touch.
The man who promised me a life together nine years ago.
LEX
The day is overcast, mirroring my mood.
I’ve no idea how to approach the Charlotte and Samantha situation, and so to clear my head I run through Central Park.
My legs run faster than ever, pushing through the burn as sweat builds against my shirt and drips from my forehead. The time I run is my personal best, and the only positive thing I have control over.
I stop at a playground to catch my breath. Around me, children are playing, so happy with not a care in the world. An attractive redhead sits on the park bench, and a small boy runs into her arms. Her face becomes familiar, and moments later, I realize it is Charlotte’s friend, Nikki.
I’m not one to strike up conversations with strangers, but this has a purpose close to my heart.
“Hi.” I wave, taking small steps towards her. “Nikki, is it?”
Raising her eyes
to meet mine, she crosses her arms with a forced smile on her face. “Yes, it is, Mr. Edwards.”
I sense the sarcastic tone, and with my guard slightly up, I have to play this woman differently if I want to extract any information regarding Charlotte.
“Please call me Lex.”
“Whatever,” she mumbles.
The young boy beside her moves his attention to me. “Are you a friend of Mom’s?”
“Actually, I’m a friend of her friend.”
“He’s Charlie’s friend,” Nikki tells him, gritting her teeth.
“Oh, how cool.” The boy jumps off the bench, his face animated as he speaks, “Do you know Cha Cha takes me to baseball every Saturday morning? It’s totally awesome. She can play some mean baseball, and the coaches love her.”
Charlotte plays baseball? I laugh at the irony. She always hated sports.
“Honey, can you go play with Bailey while I speak to Lex?”
The boy nods, kissing Nikki goodbye before running off.
Nikki swings her head my way, a darting gaze bouncing off her angered face. “Stay away from Charlie, Lex. You’re no good for her.”
“You don’t even know me,” I respond as politely as I can without telling her to fuck off and mind her own business. “It’s a bit presumptuous of you to say I have bad intentions.”
“No, I don’t, Lex,” she states, matter-of-factly. “I don’t know the history you have, though I’m pretty sure it was more than just a high school crush. I do know that while I shared a room with Charlie in college, she’d cry herself to sleep every night and wake up asking for you.”
I’m rendered speechless, forgetting how much I hurt her. My arms become heavy as my shoulders slump, the weight of my past actions rearing their ugly head once again. I didn’t stop to think about what happened after I left, and I didn’t bring it up with Charlotte because I don’t want to drudge up the memories or reminisce about my stupidity.
“She’s better off with Julian,” Nikki continues, relaxing her stern gaze. “He treats her how she deserves to be treated. I know enough about your type to know you will only hurt her again.”
Déjà-fucking-vu.
Someone is telling me Charlotte is better off without me.
This time I’m not backing down, refusing to make the same mistake again.
“You might want to let Charlotte decide that for herself.” I straighten my back, chest out, and give her a polite smile. “Goodbye, Nikki.”
I start jogging away thinking about what Nikki’s just said. I don’t care what she thinks. Charlotte and I have history. After what happened last night, I know she will go to Julian’s place. I just need a plan. Running back to the hotel, frustrated of getting nowhere, I hit the gym. My body thrives off the pain.
Back in my room, I climb into a steaming hot shower. The water is amazing, soothing my muscles and relaxing the tension almost instantly. My mind begins drifting to last night, caressing her on the dance floor, feeling her body tighten as I sang to her.
Wrapping my hand around my cock, I begin to slowly stroke it, remembering how I pushed her against the cold fridge, watching the condensation run down the door as her skin burned, sucking on her beautiful tits, and feeling her wet pussy all over my fingers. Her body has changed. She has become a woman. Her hips are curvaceous, her ass nice and tight. I start stroking faster, imagining her lips on my cock. The way she used to take me in deep, the way she screamed my name as I fucked her.
As the pressure mounts and fire rises in my belly, I explode all over my hand, wishing it had been in her mouth.
First thing I need more than anything is stamina. I order room service which doesn’t take long. A hot breakfast will give me the energy since I’ve barely eaten anything the past few days. After I finish my meal, I grab my phone, scrolling through until I locate Eric’s number. He gave me his number at the charity ball in case I need anything. To be honest, I’m not sure if he wants dick or he’s trying to set up Charlotte, so I text him, asking for her number which he has no problem giving me.
I wasted most of the day in meetings, bounded by contracts and meetings scheduled from months back. As the early evening sets in, I officially go crazy playing this waiting game. I need to tell her last night with Samantha wasn’t what it looked like, so I decide to text her.
As I wait, my anxiety grows as the clock ticks by. What the fuck is she doing that she can’t respond straight away? My mind wanders. Don’t go there.
Charlotte: Explain
One word is all she gives me. No ‘hello, how are you today.’ She’s brief, and I don’t blame her. Charlotte needs to know the truth, and so I finally explain the situation, hoping she’ll understand. She’s quick to question me as to whether I’m lying, telling me to check in the mirror to see if my nose has grown.
I can’t resist, it’s just too easy.
Typing quickly, I tell her my nose may not have grown, but I can’t say the same for down below. Anxious I may have pushed our boundaries, the bubble hovers on the bottom of our text for what feels like forever.
Charlotte: I didn’t know you and the mirror had a thing for each other. Get a room.
This is the Charlotte I remember, feisty and witty with a comeback for everything. I smile, thinking of a comeback to keep our conversation rolling.
Me: I tried but turns out it prefers it in a dark kitchen against the cold fridge.
I don’t know what she remembers about Saturday night since she drank so much. Beneath my pants, my cock hardens again. Jesus fucking Christ, I need to rub another off if I plan to get any sleep tonight. This tension is killing me and waiting for her text feels like hours on end.
Charlotte: Ha! Funny! I could’ve sworn it was an elevator.
Well, fuck me. She remembers.
I had told her once about a reoccurring fantasy in which she was wearing fuck-me boots, a short, pleated skirt, and nothing underneath as we rode an elevator. Everyone would exit, and I’d push the stop button, fucking her into oblivion. If the universe has any favoritism toward me, in the city that never sleeps, with thousands of elevators all around us, maybe my fantasy will come true.
Me: It still is, baby.
She never responds to my text, and my self-control debates whether or not I should push her for more. I finally sleep on it for only four hours, and as soon as dawn kicks in and the sun rises, I send another text.
Me: Are you free today for a coffee? I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.
I have back-to-back meetings this morning with stakeholders and agents. I email Kate asking her to send me today’s schedule all while I wait. Considering it’s only six-thirty in the morning, I don’t expect a response until my phone lights up.
Charlotte: That depends. Do I get a chocolate brownie as well?
My lips curve upward into a smile, and resting back into my chair, I read her text again. I had forgotten what it felt like to smile, to look forward to something, or should I say someone, to feel those damn butterflies that women always ramble on about. Fuck, when did I become such a pussy?
Me: Depends on what you’re wearing.
I can’t help myself. Maybe they are horny butterflies since they’ve been kept in captivity for so long. She texts me the address and warns me to behave.
Fuck, here we go again. My cock throbs as she calls me Mr. Edwards. The image of whips, kinky shit, and a librarian come to my mind. It does nothing to ease the tension.
And so I force myself to ignore it, attempting to concentrate on work. I fail miserably. I can’t focus during my first meeting. I have stakeholders talking my ear off about profits, revenue, and budgets. Thankfully, I have Kate there to take notes.
“I have a quick catch-up with an old friend,” I advise Kate at the end of our meeting.
“That’s fine, Mr. Edwards. Your next meeting is a lunch meeting at midday.” She tells me she’ll email me the details, then we part ways.
I take a cab to Café York, a small coffee shop, very cozy and i
ntimate. It’s just before eleven when I arrive, and Charlotte hasn’t arrived yet. I check my phone to see if she has texted me until a surge of warm air floats past me.
“Sorry, it’s been one of those crazy mornings.”
Charlotte hovers at the table, out of breath. My eyes wander toward her shoes—Louboutins—my fantasy right there. Controlling myself, I lift my gaze slowly up her legs to the high-waisted skirt, thick black belt, and finally, the black pin-stripe shirt, slightly unbuttoned revealing the top curves of her beautiful tits.
Today, she’s wearing reading glasses.
Kill me now.
I stand, leaning in to kiss her cheek, the gesture making her body stiffen. I’m not immune to her scent, its purity and seductiveness all rolled into one, but I need to control myself if I want to keep her around me.
We both sit, ordering coffees and, of course, her brownie, the waiter quick to serve us.
“Charlotte, about Saturday night—”
“Can we just drop the subject?” she interjects. “Adriana explained the whole Samantha thing to me.”
“You spoke to Adriana about the other night?”
“Well, no, I mean, yes. I had lunch with her yesterday. She mentioned Samantha and explained what happened which I can only assume she heard from you since she wasn’t at the club. I was pretty wasted. I don’t recall much of the night.”
“Would you like me to refresh your memory?” I tease.
She smiles, only slightly. “How about we keep that a secret?”
I change the subject, not wanting to push her any further. “So, you’re a lawyer?”
“Yes. Nikki and I opened our practice about a year ago.”