Lust

by Victoria Christopher Murray

  “Surprise!” Sonia stood with her hands in the air. “Bienvenido a casa, mi amiga.”

  “Thank you.” I pulled her into a hug. “How did you know I’d be here?”

  “I had your flight information, remember? You said you were coming back this morning.”

  “Yeah, flying back, but I hadn’t planned to come into the office, and didn’t expect to find you here on a Saturday.”

  “First of all, you may not have had plans to come into the office, but I know you, chica, I suspected that you wouldn’t be able to resist. Seems like I was right.”

  My grin told her that she was.

  “And secondly, I had some of the workers come in this morning to clear out the back so that we can finally get working on those rooms.” She waved her hand in the air. “But I don’t want to talk business. Tell me everything.” She pulled me all the way inside. “How was your honeymoon?”

  But the only answer I could give her was, “Uh, Sonia.” I stopped and did a slow three-sixty swirl.

  “Oh, yeah.” She paused and raised her hands in the air again. “Surprise.”

  “Well, that’s one way to put it.” When I’d left, the reception area looked like a construction site. Now it looked like—­Utopia, right in the middle of DC.

  The sketches that the designer had drawn for us had come to life. Right away, my cheeks slackened, my shoulders relaxed as I took in the space. It was the aura—from the rich copper-colored tiled walls to the stone fountains (with streaming water) in all four corners to the magnificence of the copper, rust, and brown marble tiles beneath our feet. This was the manifestation of peace and calm.

  “How did you get all of this done so quickly?”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked as if she didn’t understand my question. “You were gone for a whole week.”

  “But this wasn’t supposed to be done for another two weeks.”

  She waved her hand, her way of saying that exceeding expectations was her expectation; just something that she always did. “Don’t get too impressed. I only did this front part and . . .” She took my hand and dragged me down the hallway. She was right; it seemed like nothing else had been touched and we had to step over wood planks and paint cans and boxes containing more floor tiles. But then we walked into my new office.

  “Oh, my God,” I whispered.

  Just like in the front, Sonia had waved her magic wand here and created peace and harmony. My office was the color of serenity, different shades of soft blues. Even the desk was a royal color, and somehow Sonia had purchased a chair the exact shade. But the carpet was the best part. Not only because of its gradations of blue, making it look like the sky, but because with each step, I felt like I was walking on air.

  She gave me a tour of my space: built-in shelves already filled with books, mini fountains that matched the ones out front, my collection of elephants. I hardly moved from my spot as Sonia chatted. All I did was turn and turn and turn, taking in every inch of this incredible transformation.

  “Oh, and you have to come over here.” She took my hand and led me to the full bathroom. “The shower’s not working yet, but all the rest of it, knock yourself out.” Looking back at the office, she said, “So all you have to do is unpack the stuff that you had in my office.” She pointed to the boxes in the corner.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  She grinned.

  “Thank you so much for this.”

  “Para eso están los amigos.”

  “Yeah, that’s what friends are for, but you’ve gone way beyond friendship.”

  “That, chica, is called a paycheck. Your man pays me well, and speaking of your man . . .” She sat down on my sofa as if she planned to stay awhile. “Tell me about the honeymoon.”

  But the moment I sat down next to her, she jumped up. “Oh, my God. I almost forgot about Allen.”

  “What?”

  “He rode in with me so that he could get to the barbershop over on Fourteenth before the Saturday-afternoon rush. I promised him that I’d get the men started and wouldn’t make him wait, and he promised me a fabulous brunch over at Georgia’s.”

  “Sounds like a fair exchange to me,” I said, following her back down the hall toward her office. But after just a couple of steps, she stopped, almost making me bump into her. “The guys. Out back. Are you gonna be here for a minute?” She didn’t give me a chance to answer before she said, “They’ve been working for a couple of hours. I can let them go.”

  “No, don’t let them go. I’m gonna be here for a little while. I wanted to check out my calendar, look at the financial spreadsheets, get everything in order so that I can jump back in, since you carried everything for the last week. Even before that, really.”

  “No problem.” She waved my words away. “So you can lock up when the guys leave.” She glanced at her watch. “They should be done within the next hour or so.”

  She grabbed her purse. “Where’s Damon?”

  “He went into his office. He’ll be there for a while, so I have time before I meet him at home.”

  She nodded. “The two of you—workaholics. In my language, you’re . . .”

  “¡Adictos al trabajo!”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Impressive.”

  I shrugged. “I picked up a few things. Now go.” I shooed her away. “Go take care of your husband.”

  “You do the same, chica. Te amo.”

  “Love you, too.”

  I locked the door after her, then stood in the foyer, taking in all that Sonia had done. It really was amazing how something I’d imagined was coming to life. Walking back down the hall, I didn’t stop at my office. Instead, I peeked out the back door at the three men who were filling a truck with debris.

  “Can you let me know when you’re done?” I shouted out to them.

  All three turned, all three grinned and waved. I waved back, then shook my head. In any language, men were men.

  Back in my office, I lifted one of the boxes to the top of my desk and searched until I found my calendar. I really needed to get into the habit of keeping my calendar on my phone. It was hard, though; this was the only paper that I didn’t want to give up.

  Sitting at the desk, I checked and rechecked the timeline Sonia had given me with all the delivery and installation dates and when the final inspections would be. There were several agencies we had to deal with and I added each one to the timeline. We were just a little more than thirty days out, so staying with this schedule was crucial.

  Sonia had left the budget folder on my desk, and when I was done with the calendar, I switched to the numbers, studied each line, then prepared a new budget, P&L statement, and balance sheet. I smiled when I looked at the numbers. I’d be able to give Damon a good report—we’d be on time, on budget, and in the black within the first few months, I believed.

  Next, I made a list of the things I wanted to discuss with the publicist, deciding that an email wasn’t enough. A face-to-face meeting was necessary.

  Just as I reached for my phone, I heard, “Miss?”

  My head snapped up and I saw one of the men I’d spoken to earlier out back.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, dipping his head. “I just wanted to tell you that we’re finished.”

  Had that much time passed? I glanced at my watch. It had! I’d been working for hours; it was already after two.

  “Okay, thank you,” I said.

  He nodded before he turned away. I listened for the back door, then I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes. It felt good to be back working, even though I could say that I missed Dubai already. It was the best honeymoon ever, especially after last night.

  All I could do was sigh as I thought back to that moment, though I didn’t remember a lot of it. Except for when it happened, that moment when Damon finally took me to heaven and I didn’
t have to fake the trip.

  It was all kind of a dream. Literally. I’d returned from the spa feeling like a noodle with a brain. There wasn’t much I could do except lie down. It wasn’t that I was tired, but having three masseuses working on me at the same time—one on my head, one on my body, one on my feet—it was a wonder I didn’t have to be wheeled back to our room.

  So, I’d lain down, closed my eyes, and dreamt. I dreamed about that feeling. I kept having it, over and over. And then I felt it. Like it was really happening.

  And then it was. It was so bizarre when I opened my eyes—and looked into Damon’s. For a moment, I wasn’t sure which part was the dream and which was reality, because Damon was not the man who’d been in my mind. But he was the one who’d delivered. Finally! If I’d had any kind of energy after that, I would have jumped up and done a hallelujah dance.

  But even though I was thrilled about last night, I did ­wonder—had it really been Damon who made me feel that way when it was Trey who was in my dreams?

  “That doesn’t matter,” I told myself. And it didn’t. Because men fantasized all the time, right? Even if Trey were in my head, he’d never make his way into my heart. That place was only for Damon. And now I was sure that Damon and I would be fine, because if he’d done it for me once, he could do it for me again and again.

  “Just like Trey,” I whispered.

  “Excuse me.”

  My eyes snapped open and the chair jerked forward so far I almost fell out. Just blink. That’s what I told myself, because like last night, I was having one of those dreams. I probably wasn’t even at Utopia. I could’ve still been back in Dubai.

  So, I blinked. That is, I closed my eyes, squeezed the lids together, then opened them slowly.

  Trey was still there.

  The entire time I was in Dubai, that center part of my body had pulsed, a constant reminder of him. Now that pulsing turned to throbbing and I could feel the heat building.

  “How did you get in here?”

  “Well, first, hello. And I came in just as those guys were going out.”

  Dang! I hadn’t even thought about getting up and locking the back door. “What are you doing here?”

  “So, you’re not even going to say hello?”

  “What are you doing here, Trey?” I repeated. It probably would have been better for me to jump up, get in his face with all kinds of indignation. But there was no way I could do that. Because I needed every part of my body to help in my fight to keep that mental flash out of my mind.

  “I came by to see you guys,” he said, stepping all the way into my office.

  “You have no need to see me, and Damon isn’t here.”

  My hope was that the mention of my husband’s name would change the energy and shift both of us.

  “I was talking about you and Sonia.”

  My eyes thinned. “What do you want with her?”

  “You jealous?” He grinned.

  “No. I just know my best friend doesn’t like you.”

  He chuckled and had the audacity to sit down in the chair on the other side of my desk. He leaned back as if he’d been invited into my space. “Now, how can she not like me when she doesn’t know me?”

  “What do you want with her?” I asked. Ignoring his question made me feel like I had a little bit of control.

  “Is she here?”

  “She will be.”

  “Oh.” He sounded like he was disappointed, then he laughed. “You’re not even a good liar.”

  “What are you doing here?” That time, my voice quivered a bit, and I prayed that I sounded steadier to him than I sounded to myself.

  “I knew you’d be back today and I wanted to stop by to see you.”

  I pressed my lips together, knowing that what I needed to do was push this man out the door and run the other way. But I knew what would happen if I got anywhere near him. I’d been dreaming about it.

  “How was your honeymoon?” He kept his eyes on me, never blinking.

  “I don’t want you here.” I kept my eyes on him and I couldn’t stop blinking.

  Then he asked, “Did you get my texts?”

  I tried to keep my body as still and as steady as possible. But my legs were forsaking me. I thanked God that my trembling was hidden beneath my desk. After I moment I responded, “When are you leaving for Atlanta?”

  He laughed again, like he was at some comedy show. “We have two separate conversations going on.”

  I needed him to stop talking, because then I wouldn’t have to watch his lips. And if I didn’t watch his lips, then I wouldn’t want his lips all over me.

  “You need to leave.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Is that any way to treat a friend?”

  “I’m not your friend.” That part was true. As much as I wanted him, I hated him.

  He stood. I exhaled with relief. But he didn’t walk toward the door. Instead, he took slow steps toward me.

  No!

  He rounded the corner of my desk until he was right over me. “I missed you, Tiff.”

  I shook my head, more to get air than anything else.

  “We never finished what we started.”

  Flash:

  Me.

  And now I wanted him to finish it.

  When he leaned down and kissed me, there was nothing I could do. Just his being stole every bit of resolve from me and I became nothing more than a ball of lust.

  One second his lips were on mine, the next second my lips parted, and the third second, we were devouring each other as passion overcame me and I just could not get enough.

  Our lips stayed locked, even as he pulled me from my chair, and when one of his hands snaked inside the waistband of my skirt, I gasped. And he hadn’t even gotten to the good part.

  His hand moved lower and lower, and with each inch, I lost another piece of my mind. By the time he got to my center, I was done. I shuddered and shuddered and shuddered. But that done part? That was a lie. Because I wanted more and more and more.

  He pulled away, just for a moment. Just so he could look into my eyes. And laugh.

  I didn’t care that he teased me; it was that feeling that I craved from deep inside my DNA, that feeling that I had to have, that feeling that only he could give me.

  So, even as he laughed, I forced his mouth back to mine and gripped his neck like I had no plans to let him go. Then, the same way he’d caressed me, I fondled him. He may have laughed at me, but when I touched him? All laughter stopped.

  We kissed, we fondled, and I was once again filled with that feeling.

  Until.

  My mind filled with questions: What was I doing? And right after my honeymoon? What kind of woman did this?

  With the palms of my hands, I pushed him away. “No!”

  He looked at me and I yearned for him.

  He took two steps back and I ached for him.

  When he nodded, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and turned away, panic attacked me. My voice betrayed my hunger when I asked, “Where are you going?”

  He paused, right at the threshold. His eyes, still dark, still seductive, held me. “You said no.” He paused, letting the words hang in the air for a couple of seconds. “And when a woman says no to me, I understand what no means.” And he turned again to the door.

  I did mean no. I really did. Because I couldn’t do this, not to Damon, and not with Trey. I hated this man. But in the next second, I said, “I don’t mean no,” because my hunger was much stronger than my horror.

  He turned back and, giving me his cocky smile, he asked, “What did you say?”

  I hated him. “I mean yes.” I hated myself.

  “You mean yes?” He repeated my words in a whisper.

  I swallowed. I nodded.

  “Say it out loud so that th
ere’s no confusion.”

  I tried to keep it inside, because maybe if I didn’t say it, he would leave. But I spoke because I had no control. “Yes.”

  “You want me, don’t you?”

  A tear squeezed from my eye as the word came out of my mouth again. “Yes.”

  He spoke slowly when he said, “You should learn to say what you mean.”

  Then, before I could blink or think, he wiped my desk clean with one swipe, making the box I’d been unpacking tumble off and crash onto the floor. In the next second, I was up and in his arms before he laid me back on the desk and pushed my skirt up, up, up until it was above my waist.

  I was already reeling, but when he lowered his head, I was once again done, before he even got started.

  This was a death wish, that was the only thought I had when Trey pushed my panties aside. But then, Trey’s tongue was a magic eraser as he cleared all thoughts from my mind. I was empty of everything, except for that feeling that was better than anything I’d ever felt before, and that feeling became me.

  I screamed and screamed and screamed. And shuddered and shuddered and shuddered. It may have been minutes, it may have been hours, or it could have been days. When his face came back into my view, I was still panting, in the glow of the aftermath. But that glow dimmed when Trey looked at me. His victory smirk made me shrink beneath the weight of my guilt. Yet that guilt wasn’t enough to make me stop. I wanted more, I wanted him.

  He licked his lips, and this time he moaned as if he loved the taste of me. With a chuckle, he turned around . . . and walked out the door.

  Like the night before my wedding, I lay there even after I heard the front door open, then close.

  That was it?

  What was I thinking asking myself that?

  That was enough!

  My back began to ache from pressing against the hardness of the desk, but then when I rose, what I still felt between my legs was like a balm for my back pain. That ache was gone. But the throbbing remained. Even as I rolled my skirt down, even as I slipped off the desk, I throbbed. And that throbbing made me wonder, who was Trey? What was he doing to me?

  The bigger question, though, was who was I? Who had I become? And who was I going to be now?