Arsen

by Mia Asher

  And it’s freaking me out because, call it intuition, but I can sense that he’s here.

  All eyes on us, we make our way to a large group of people standing by a grand piano, where a very famous virtuoso is currently playing an achingly beautiful melody. With Ben’s arm encircling my waist, I feel the exact moment when he tenses up, his grip growing stronger, almost hurting me.

  “Ah. I see Alan and his wife, Loretta, with their daughter. Let’s go greet them. I need to have a word with him before we can make our way to the bar.”

  “How do you know who Alan and his wife are when everyone’s wearing masks? I can’t recognize anyone. Will Megan and Micky be here?” I stare into his eyes as I ask.

  “I could recognize Alan and his wife anywhere and at any time. They’re both very tall people with a very distinctive blonde hair color.”

  I glance at the group parting to welcome us amongst them, and notice three people with hair so blonde that it’s almost white. “Oh. I guess, you are right. I do see how unique their—”

  Oh, God. No.

  I want to stop walking. Completely.

  I can’t.

  I can’t take another step.

  Oh, no, no, no.

  However, Ben seems to have other ideas. Not letting go of my waist, he pulls me forward as he continues to walk.

  I manage to whisper accusingly, “No-o, Ben...p-please. You...you knew.”

  I see Ben’s eyes through the mask, and the anger reflected in them. “No, I didn’t know that he was going to be here. I wasn’t sure anyway. And it doesn’t matter. It’s about time that he saw you with me, your husband. Now, keep moving Cathy, or do you want me to drag you toward him?”

  “No, no, no, no. Please, Ben, not like this. Not like this.”

  Vile rising in my throat, I want to vomit. My stomach hurts, and I can feel tears in my eyes. No, I don’t want Arsen to see me like this. Not after the way we parted last night…not with Ben.

  “Yes, Cathy. Maybe by doing this you will finally understand how much you—”

  “Well, well…look who decided to finally grace us with his presence. The mighty Benjamin Stanwood and his beautiful wife Catherine, correct?” I flinch when Alan says my name. Ben never calls me Catherine.

  No. Only Arsen calls me by that name.

  I avoid looking at the man wearing a full mask of what looks to be a cross between the sun and fire with flames or rays pointing in every direction. I can’t. Instead, my eyes land on the beautiful female standing next to him. She’s wearing an exquisite white princess gown. The bustier is filled with white Swarovsky crystals, and her mask depicts a swan with silver and white feathers adorning one corner. Her lips are as full as mine, and her neck is long, thin, and elegant. Her blonde hair, swept back in a simple ballerina bun, allows me to see her perfect bone structure. She is breathtaking, and she’s holding Arsen’s hand in hers.

  Do you hear that? That’s karma shouting in my ear, “Eat it, you bitch,” as I watch Arsen with another woman.

  Jealousy is such a potent threatening emotion. It doesn’t just eat you alive—it eats you from within. It’s venom that spreads in your bloodstream, polluting you, killing you. It corrodes you until there’s nothing left. And right now, I’m being suffocated by it. I hate her. I hate her.

  Feeling faint as sweat breaks in the small of my back and my temples, I can hear Alan speaking, “Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce you to Ben Stanwood and his—”

  Ben interrupts Alan. “My wife, Cathy Stanwood.”

  That’s when I finally lift my eyes to stare at Arsen, and I just know. As I stand next to Ben in a room full of people, I watch and yearn for the man standing in front of me, and I know there’s no going back for me.

  I choose Arsen.

  I choose him.

  The blonde girl extends her long and pretty hand first. How I hate her hand.

  “Hi! My name is Jillian, but you can call me Jill. And this,” her free hand settles in the center of Arsen’s solid chest, “is Arsen Radcliff. A close family friend.” Her stupid face lights up when Arsen smiles down at her. Fisting my hands so hard I can feel my nails breaking through skin, I fight a visceral reaction taking over me. I want to slap the smile clean off her face.

  He is mine.

  Mine. Mine. Mine.

  Ben’s grip is now so painful, I can feel myself growing numb around my waist.

  “Jill, it’s alright. I already know the Stanwood’s. Catherine,” Arsen’s raspy voice emphasizes my name, “worked for my dad. I trained under her tutelage until I decided I didn’t give a shit anymore.” Blushing by his words, I observe as Arsen addresses Alan and Loretta, a smirk on his lips. “I hope I haven’t offended you, Uncle Al.” He turns to look at the regal woman standing next to him. “And Aunt Lo, you know I mean no disrespect. Ahh…I hear the band playing in the ballroom.”

  Lifting Jillian’s hand to his lips, he places a soft kiss on her palm and drops it in the air. “Gorgeous, would you mind if I took a turn around the dance floor with the lovely Mrs. Stanwood? It’s been a while since I saw her last,” Arsen says sarcastically.

  Arsen addresses Ben, without looking at me. “Would you mind if I stole your wife, Ben? You know, for just a little while?”

  I wince when I listen to his blatant lies and innuendos, blushing with the color of shame. Ben’s jaw tightens as the thick veins on his neck appear before answering Arsen. “If Cathy wants to, I don’t mind.”

  When he pins me with his pleading gaze, Ben’s cool façade chips a fraction, allowing me see the vulnerability behind his act tonight. His eyes beg me not to go. Not to leave with Arsen. To stay with him.

  Please. Please. Please, don’t go with him. Stay with me.

  The thing about being selfish is that you don’t care if someone is at your feet begging you to stay with him, offering you the world, his heart and soul. It doesn’t matter. You’ll do whatever you want to do. What you need to do for yourself. Nothing matters but what you want. What you think you need.

  I want to be selfish.

  I want to be careless.

  I’m past feeling guilty.

  I’m completely and utterly out of my mind because of a man and I don’t care. I’m like a heroine addict going through withdrawals. I must have Arsen.

  And I’m angry.

  I’m angry because that slut is here with him and not me.

  Without looking at Ben, I pull myself away from his hold and take Arsen’s hand in mine, accepting his offer to dance.

  Slipping.

  I’m slipping away slowly from Ben and his hold on me.

  “Yes. I would love to.”

  Odd. Somehow my voice sounds clear and calm, not giving away the raging storm brewing inside me.

  I let go of Arsen’s hand once we begin to move away from the group and head towards the ballroom. I never look back, even though a big part of me wants to, the part that knows how much I still love Ben, the part that hasn’t allowed fucking to cloud her judgment.

  But I don’t.

  And I know I should have.

  Arsen leans down to murmur angrily in my ear. The breath escaping through his mask makes the flyaway hair on my neck tickle my exposed skin as his voice sends shivers running down my spine. The closeness of our bodies ignites my body with need once more.

  “Is Ben in some kind of fucking denial? You just eye fucked me in front of him and a shitload of people, then agreed to walk away with me for a dance, and he still doesn’t do anything. Is the guy fucking blind?” he growls.

  “How dare you?” I hiss.

  “How dare I what? Speak the truth? Insult your husband? Ignore your pathetic calls and then show my fucking face at this party with a date? What is it, Dimples? Give me your fucking best.”

  I can’t continue listening to him without either breaking down and crying in the middle of the dance floor or slapping him across the face, gathering unwanted attention towards us. I push his hand away forcefully, leaving Arsen at the ent
rance of the ballroom as I go in search of a place where I can be alone and calm down.

  Finding a small room that is clearly not intended for guests’ use, I walk in and when I’m about to shut the door behind me Arsen appears out of nowhere, pushing me further into the unlit room as he shuts us both inside.

  “What the hell are you doing here? Someone may have seen you follow me. There will be gossip!” I protest.

  “It hurts, doesn’t it?” he taunts me. “Seeing me with someone else? Ignoring your phone calls because I’m too fucking busy with real life to deal with a fuck buddy? Now you know what it’s like to not be wanted.”

  “I never said I didn’t want you!” I yell.

  “Yes, you did.” Taking his mask off and throwing it on the floor, I watch him run a hand through his blond hair. “You told me not to push you. That you love your husband, and you gave me the sorriest excuse that I’ve ever heard…to give you fucking time. But you know what, Catherine?” he says, an ugly smile plastered on his achingly perfect face, “I’m okay with your shit, but don’t expect me to wait back at my apartment for you to call me whenever you’re bored. You get to go back to your husband and play house with him, so why the fuck shouldn’t I enjoy some pussy on the side? Oh, wait, no...I’ve got it.” He smacks his forehead, “You’re the pussy on the side, right?”

  I slap him across the face. My stinging hand hurts just as much as I hurt on the inside. His cruel words are like a dagger to my heart because they are true.

  “H-how dare you!” I’m trembling in anger.

  Laughing Arsen, shrugs.

  “I hate you. I hate you. Do you hear me?” The words are torn from my chest, but I can’t stop myself from repeating them. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” Fisting my hands on my sides, I want to kick him, scratch him, bite him; whatever I can do to cause him pain. I want him to feel my pain. I want him to hurt just as he’s making me hurt.

  “So what?” he asks nonchalantly.

  As I watch Arsen shrug his shoulder carelessly once more, something inside me snaps. I lunge toward him and start slapping, biting, kicking…whatever I can do to hurt him.

  “YOU’RE SUCH A FUCKING ASS—”

  “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” He yells back at me as he grabs my hands forcefully and turns our bodies, pushing me against the wall.

  Our chests rise and fall, breathing heavily as we stare at each other. The want, anger, and need reflected in his eyes make me want to fuck him, right here, right now. But instead, I murmur defeated, “Let go of me…I need to get back to Ben. We’re done.”

  Arsen lets go of my arms to urgently lift my ass in his hands, pushing our bodies closer against each other as he growls in my ear, “No. Never. You’re mine. All fucking mine.”

  As panic rises inside me, a surge of desire so strong, I can’t breathe, I can’t think, I can’t do anything but feel, rushes over me. I need Arsen in my body. I need to feel his dick sliding in and out of me. I want him to fuck me hard. Surrendering, I wrap my legs around his waist and let him do whatever he wants with me.

  I am his.

  He kisses my neck, then pushes a hand inside my thong. I gasp when his fingers slide inside me, searching me, stroking me as I pulsate with want for him.

  “Arsen…” I whimper as I tilt my head back not caring that we could get caught. Not caring that Ben could be looking for me at this moment.

  His mouth crushes mine as waves of heat and sensation crash down over us, washing the despair and shame I feel away. I kiss him back and open my mouth and legs wider for him. I can feel his erection as he grinds himself against me. Losing myself in the depths of his eyes, I hear the sound of his zipper sliding down, and of silk being torn.

  One hard thrust and he’s inside me. Entering me deeply, roughly, yet gently, filling me completely. Lifting my ass higher with his hands, he leans his forehead against mine as sweat begins to cover our bodies.

  “I can’t, I can’t. I thought I could share you, but I can’t. Please…leave him. I need you, and I know you need me too. You need me. Be mine...” he says gruffly.

  Thrust.

  “I’m yours. I’m yours,” I reverberate.

  Thrust.

  “I can’t share you. Seeing you with him is fucking breaking me. It’s breaking me.” His voice is husky with passion.

  Thrust.

  “Leave him. I can’t keep doing this anymore. I can’t keep sharing you.”

  Thrust.

  “Yes, I’ll do it.”

  Thrust.

  “When?”

  Thrust.

  “Tonight.”

  Arsen curses fiercely into the curve of my neck, thrusting faster, harder, driving us closer to our climax.

  “I can feel you shaking…fuck...your pussy is so fucking tight…hell, you’re so close. Look at me, Dimples. I want to watch your eyes when you come.”

  He puts his lips next to my ear and whispers hoarsely, “Come for me, Catherine, come for me. Now.”

  I explode, losing myself in the blue sea of his eyes. Arsen kisses me, smothering my cries with his mouth as he begins to slide out of me like he always does. I’m not sure if it’s me tightening the grip of my legs on his hips, or just getting lost in the heat of the moment, but instead of withdrawing he pushes himself deeper into me, coming inside as his large body vibrates fiercely with the power of his climax.

  After a couple minutes pass and our breathing evens out, Arsen pulls out of me, making me flinch as his softening erection leaves my sore body. He zips his pants up while staring at me.

  Without saying a word, Arsen hands me a tissue to clean myself up as the skirt of my dress falls from my waist down to the floor in a river of black silk. In a daze, I can barely manage to look at him as I clean the sticky liquid in between my thighs.

  Once I’m done, Arsen takes the tissue from my hand, walks to the garbage can and throws it away for me. As he makes his way back, he spots my thong on the floor. Thinking that he’s going to discard it himself, I’m surprised when Arsen picks it up and tucks it inside his jacket instead.

  “Let’s go back before people start wondering where the fuck we are. But, Dimples, as you walk back to meet Ben I want you to remember what you said to me.” Stepping closer to me, he wraps my hair in his hand, giving it a tug so that I’m staring at him. “When you go back to him, remember that I am inside you…that you belong to me.”

  I leave before him while he waits inside the room so that we don’t raise any suspicion. My legs are shaking from the hard grip I had on his hips as I make my way back to Ben. I am trembling and so ashamed. I can’t believe I just let Arsen screw me against someone’s door while my husband is in the same building, and not once did I think about him. Not once. Not even as I was coming and saw fucking stars. As guilt tries to take over me, I try not to think of what just happened, pretending like it never did.

  When I return to the main room, Ben immediately spots me walking towards him. At first he looks angry as he scans my countenance from afar, but by the time I reach him all I can see is sadness in his eyes.

  Such despairing sadness.The eyes that used to shine so bright with love now look empty and drained. Lifeless.

  When Ben lifts a hand, I instantly assume that he’s going to take mine in his, but instead, it goes to his front pocket. Retrieving a handkerchief, he hands it to me.

  “Your lipstick is smudged,” Ben says quietly.

  As I look at Ben’s eyes filled with such raw pain, I think that I shouldn’t be here. Not after what happened last night. I should have gone to a hotel and spent the night there.

  My mind is a cluster fuck of thoughts, so many of them swimming through my head not letting me be at peace. But I guess I don’t deserve peace, right? A lying, cheating, and deceitful woman like me should suffer.

  Oh my God. What have I done?

  This is over.

  But it has been for a while.

  Since the first time I went back to Arsen’s place.

  Oh, Ben.r />
  Ben and I are over.

  My marriage is over.

  I did this.

  I did.

  Can you be physically ill from a broken heart?

  Because it hurts. So much.

  I feel dirty.

  Worthless.

  I don’t deserve to feel pain, though. I don’t deserve the tears that are beginning to form in my eyes. I don’t deserve him. But after today he will be free of me. He will be free of me once he knows the truth.

  What have I done? Shortly after I return from having fucked Arsen against the wall, the soreness between my legs proof enough, Ben decides he’s had enough of the party and that it’s time to leave. As we are saying our goodbyes, someone disguised as a lion approaches us needing to speak to him about work. Excusing himself, Ben follows lion man and gets lost in a sea of masked strangers.

  Feeling a strong hand wrap around my elbow, Arsen whispers in my ear, “Don’t go back with him. End it now. Come back with me. Call him on our way to my apartment. Just don’t go back with him,” he pleads with ferocity.

  I shake my head and pull myself away from his hold. “I have to. I need to end it the right way, Arsen. Not that there’s a right way to do this. Now, please, stop it. I told you already that I’m leaving him, but you’ve got to let me do this in my own way. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  If Arsen in his jealousy thinks that my going back home with Ben means that something is going to happen, he is insane. I can still smell him on my skin, on my clothes, taste the cigarette he had smoked before…Arsen is everywhere.

  He is on me.

  Inside me.

  Around me.

  I know I have to go home and somehow manage to come clean with Ben. My sweet, sweet husband. He deserves to know the truth. He deserves to know how the woman he claims to know and love, has been fucking a younger man for a while now, loves it, and doesn’t plan on stopping.

  I need to get out of here.

  When Ben sees me walking towards him, he stands up. Frowning, he watches my clothes, my hair, my every move. It makes me think that he already knows.

  Good. I want to get things over with.