by Abi Walters
**********
“Me? I’m scared of everything. I’m scared of what I saw, I’m scared of what I did, of who I am, and most of all I’m scared of walking out of this room and never feeling the rest of my whole life the way I feel when I’m with you.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. A quick beat before, “Are you okay, Mia?”
Lora had left shortly after ten, insisting she go home since Mia had to work the next morning. After the movie had ended they watched an episode of a true crime show, which didn’t seem to bother Lora as she hugged Mia goodbye and headed to the city’s streets at night. Mia and Lora both lived in safe neighborhoods, but at times it seemed like nowhere in New York was safe. Mia waited until she got a confirmation text from Lora that she was home before dialing up Benson.
She had missed his voice all day. One night with him had spoiled her. She wanted him constantly. If she couldn’t be with him physically before bed, she at least wanted to hear his voice. And for some reason when he cooed ‘precious’ into the phone, Mia recited the well memorized line from Dirty Dancing. When Benson spoke her name again, she snapped back to reality.
“It’s from a movie,” She shook her head as if he were sitting next to her, thankful he wasn’t because she was blushing. “It reminds me of you.”
“What movie?” He asked curiously. When she told him there was a pause while he thought. “Huh. I’ve never seen it.”
“I watched it a lot growing up. We watched it tonight. I just… thought of you a lot.”
There you go, Mia. Sound needy and desperate. It’ll really help your cause.
As if he could read her mind through the airwaves, Benson chipped in, “I thought of you too, precious. About using those leather cuffs in your bedside and locking you to your bed so I could lick every inch of your sweet body.”
Mia moaned his name, “Benson.”
“I love how you say my name” He growled.
She was wet and in need of an orgasm or five, “Come over. I need you inside me.”
He groaned, “I’m working still.”
“You’re at the office still?” Her voice was doubtful. “It’s after ten.”
“I’m home. Don’t use that tone of voice with me, precious.”
She huffed, “You work too hard, then.”
“I can’t come over,” He said sadly, and then his voice lowed to a seductive purr. “But I can make you cum. Touch yourself, Mia.”
Breathlessly, she complied. She dipped her fingers below the waist of her leggings and found her budding nub. She moaned as she touched it, causing Benson’s breath to grow ragged on the other side.
“What are you wearing, Mia?”
“Does that matter?” She questioned. “Just tell me what you’d be doing to me if you were here.”
“It matters,” He growled.
“Leggings and a tank top,” She sighed, her fingers slowing. “See, not sexy.”
“Very sexy. That tank top probably hugs your tits and bunches around your nice, hard nipples. And those leggings surely sculpt that tight ass. Just thinking about your body, Mia,” Benson paused and inhaled. “You’ve got me sitting at my desk stroking my cock wishing my hand was your tongue.”
Mia moaned his name and dipped her finger down to her swollen, wet lips. She plunged in and pretended it was Benson whose fingers were inside her. He was speaking to her, though she could barely hear him. She was beating an erratic tattoo of pleasure. Nothing compared to his touch, but knowing he was on the other end touching himself to the thought of her made her crazy. She caught bits and pieces of him through both of their groans.
Benson uttered a warning before he groaned her name, each letter drawn out and strained. They both fell silent. Benson’s breath steadied so slow she wondered if he was still there.
“Benson?” She called out quietly.
“Precious,” He muttered.
She smiled lightly, “Thank you.”
“It’s not as good as being there with you, but it’s the least I can do.”
“Call me tomorrow after work?” She bypassed.
He tensed, “Mia…”
“Another late night tomorrow, then?” She didn’t try to hide the bitterness that echoed her tone.
“I’ll be outside your building tomorrow, just like I was today. See you then, precious.”
Mia dropped her phone in her lap and sighed. She waited a few minutes before getting up and getting ready for bed. She double checked the locks on her door and flipped the lights off. After checking her phone what seemed like a dozen times, Mia finally dozed into Benson filled dreams.
She woke unsure of where they were together. Maybe she overreacted. She wasn’t even sure what had happened. She showered and prepared for work like she did every day, not sure if she should be dreading the vehicle that would be waiting for her or eagerly awaiting its arrival. She donned a white blouse with skinny red stripes, a sharp black blazer, and fitted jeans. As she slipped into her standard Louboutin shoes, Benson texted her. Instead of responding, she hopped on the elevator and rode down.
Her knight in shining armor was waiting for her beside his trusty steed. Or rather, her king of the city leaning against his luxury SUV. She was in the middle of rolling her eyes at herself when Benson pulled her into his grip and kissed her passionately. He had a knack for that, stealing her breath even on a street full of strangers. When they pulled away she raised a brow at him. He pecked her lips.
“I don’t like waking up without you.”
He apparently hadn’t taken whatever she said last night too seriously. Hell, she hadn’t even know what she did herself, just that it left her feeling sore and empty inside. In fact, Benson seemed unusually happy for a Thursday morning. He kissed her again once they were safely inside the car.
“Did you put cocaine in your coffee this morning?” She teased, then frowned and looked down. She’d seen Grant have a healthy dose of coke with his morning coffee more times than she could count on her fingers.
“What?” Benson frowned.
“Grant,” She bit frostily, not wanting to make eye contact with him.
“Put cocaine in his coffee?” Benson’s voice was a mixture of disbelief and anger. “Are you serious?”
“The night I left him I walked in on him doing cocaine off two naked bimbo’s bodies. Have you ever seen lines of coke on triple D implants?” She shivered. “He’d cheated on me before and had a nasty drug problem, but something about seeing that…”
Benson’s fists clenched at his side. If he pressed any harder he would draw blood. He could feel Mia’s eyes on him, analyzing the vein that was surly popping out of his neck. She laid her hand on his knee. Her touch was a fire that scorched and soothed. He instantly calmed with her gentle graze.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring him up.”
Benson ignored the apology and instead announced, “I watched Dirty Dancing last night.”
Her face lit up as she let out a shrill of laughter, “What?”
“You said it reminded you of me, so I wanted to see for myself.” Mia looked at him, waiting for further explanation. “I thought of you, too, Mia. Can you dance like that, by the way?”
She laughed, “I pretended enough when I was younger. Maybe something stuck… or maybe I look like an awkward goose.”
“There’s nothing awkward about you,” Benson raised an eyebrow and a sly grin slid onto his face.
When they pulled in front of Monarch Records, Mia didn’t want to get out. She wondered if she told Victor to drive around the block until they ran out of gas if he would do it. He would. But she had to work and so did Benson. Neither were content sitting on their hands watching the world pass by. Maybe sitting on one another’s hands, but not their own. Benson helped her out of the car and pinned her against the door, indulging in one last fiery exchange.
With his head rested against hers, she whispered, “Do you think we could have a happy ending like the movie?”
He sucked in his lip briefly, buying time as he searched for his answer. Benson wanted to tell her they could end up like Johnny and Baby. Instead he faintly smiled and muttered, “We can try.” It was all he could do, all he could say.
We can try. Mia thought of his words as she rode to her office. He had paused, unsure of himself. She had instantly regretted her question. When she had asked Benson if there could be something more than orgasms between them, he jokingly told her he’d give her twenty more and then they’d talk. She had certainly had more than twenty orgasms, so it was time to discuss. The weekend, though only a day away, seemed far away. She was restless and wanted to turn around and trap him in the Bentley, forcing him to talk about whatever they were. She needed organization. She needed definitions. And if they were just going to be another notch in the bedpost for one another, she needed to cut it off. She went in blind with lust, not caring about consequences, and was left with a heart that would not part with his image.
We can try. Mia was seconds away from turning on her heel and following Benson to work when she saw Maya Dover waiting for her in her office. She shot a nasty look at her secretary, who in return mouthed a ‘sorry’, before heading in.
Maya’s dark skin was porcelain. She was short and petite, her cropped black hair tailored to perfection. It was surprising to Mia- a far cry from her last few encounters with the woman. The last time she ran into the woman, Maya spilt coffee on both of them. Perhaps their past was the reason she was tense as Mia stepped into her office.
“Mia!” She exclaimed, bopping up. She bumped into her desk in the process. Yup. Same old Maya. “Sorry. And sorry to ambush you so early.”
“Not a problem. What can I help you with?” Mia sat at her desk and smoothed her hand on the wood, her eyes firm on the woman across from her.
“I’m sure Tyler Abbott has spoken with you?”
“Yes, and I waited for your email yesterday, Maya.”
The woman, roughly Mia’s age, winced, “Sorry. I was busy going over budgets and getting a storyboard together.”
“You really should get in the habit of doing as you say.” Where had that punch come from? Mia didn’t consider herself a soft business woman, but she wasn’t entirely ruthless. There had to be flexibility when working in the industry, especially when PR is involved. She tried recovering. “It’s not very professional.”
“I understand,” Maya was visibly angry, biting through her teeth. “I just thought I would stop by instead of emailing you.”
“Ah, so now I’ve got to take notes,” Mia was on a roll. She was actually enjoying pushing the woman’s buttons.
Maya strained, “I will email you after I leave.”
“So I’ve heard. I’m really busy, Maya, so could you just tell me what you’re here for?”
“Busy with Benson Ward?” Maya snapped, crossing her arms. “I’m sure you are.”
A few heated seconds was all it took for Maya to realize she had overstepped and for Mia to snap a pencil in half to keep her from doing the same to her colleague’s neck. Would lunging across the table be worth the lawsuit? Maya stood abruptly, as if she was afraid of the tension that lay between them. She flew out the door in a flash and Mia looked down at the broken pencil.
Maya knew about her and Benson. She wondered how and why that made any difference. Because everyone already thinks you’re a whore who slept her way to the top. Mia skipped her email and went straight to Google, her fingers quickly typing in Benson’s name. Her interest peaked when she saw a small cluster of links associating her with him. She opened a few tabs and analyzed the brief articles. They all had variations of pictures of him leaving her apartment the day before, their embrace a few hours after, and then surprisingly, a photo of them from that morning.
Mia hadn’t seen her name in bold print since she was with Grant. Even though he was just a band manager, he had gained his own fame and was nearly as popular as Charlotte’s Drive. Nearly. The articles that linked her to Benson with shocking evidence- sensual pictures of them on the street- mocked those that she had with Grant. Sleeping her way to the top by using Benson Ward? Mia scoffed. He was barely connected to the record industry, if at all. He owned venues, restaurants, a few apartment complexes. None of those could help Mia sleep her way into a higher position at the label, not that she wanted to move up any more anyway. She rolled her eyes, not letting the articles bother her in the slightest, though she still attached them in an email she sent to Benson.
After sending Benson an email, she devoted her time to checking a handful of messages waiting. She dealt with the correspondences about booking gigs and coordinating acts for a music award show. She grimaced when thinking about the approaching season of different award shows. The past few years, they had proven to be a nightmare. Each year she hoped all she would have to deal with was her anti-establishment rockers committing serious fashion faux-pas and each year she dealt with a mountain of work. There were two consecutive beeps from her computer- two new emails.
The first was from Maya, briefly apologizing for her actions. She asked Mia if they could resolve the issue without going to Human Resources, then gave her a quick rundown of Burnside’s video shoot the next week. Scheduled to start early Thursday morning, the production would take place at a swanky theater. She’d only have to be there for a few runs of the song, and then the band would shoot their remaining parts afterwards. Mia’s stomach fluttered. She had a week until she’d be thrown into the hectic video scene. The last time she was on set, she saw a large clump of a girl’s hair be ripped out by a stylist. She touched her scalp and frowned, then penned a quick response to Maya.
The second email was from Benson. It was quick, precise, and put a smile on her face.
Precious,
You look good on my arm.
I wonder if they ever thought maybe I was using you to climb the ranks.
I’m looking forward to this weekend.
Benson Ward
Mia made it through the workday without any more problems. She had made arrangements with Lora to meet at Feathers after work for a drink and dinner. Victor obliged with her request, and Mia knew Benson would know within moments that she wasn’t headed directly home. Part of her hated his monitoring, and a part of her warmed at the idea.
Feathers held a steady buzz of traffic that promised a healthy Thirsty Thursday crowd. Despite the extra bodies, it didn’t take Mia long to spot her friend in their typical booth. She raised an eyebrow as she strolled over. Lora wasn’t alone. Sitting next to her was a stick of a man with black rimmed glasses and a particularly large nose. Zach. He was handsome in his own respect. His blonde hair was a curly, untamed mop that threatened to spill over onto his face. His thin lips curled into a smile when he saw Mia at the table, and he issued a greeting.
“I didn’t know we’d have company,” Mia flashed a grin at Lora who blushed.
“Last minute thing,” Lora recovered quickly, glancing over at Zach for a second. “He wanted to meet you.”
“I’m flattered. I assume you’ve heard nothing but wonderful things about me.” When Zach’s eyes blinked rapidly and he bit his lip, preparing to lie, she laughed. “It’s okay. I’m a handful.”
He let out a sigh of relief, “Your words, not mine!”
Pete swung by the table, his hand resting on his hip. He eyed the three of them before taking their order. They ordered a pitcher of draft beer to share. Zach and Lora decided to spit a jumbo nacho order, and Mia settled for a basket of chicken wings. Their beer was on their table a few moments after Pete disappeared to put their food order in.
“Have you read the gossip rags today?” Mia brought up, almost innocently.
Lora quirked a brow, “You know I don’t have time to scan that shit. Why?”
“They’ve snagged some photos of Benson and me. Apparently I’m sleeping my way to the top with him, too. Who would’ve guessed?”
“He’s not even in the music industry,” Lora rolled her eyes.
&nb
sp; Zach looked slightly confused, “This has been a problem before?”
“Nobody is comfortable with a successful woman,” Mia noted in his direction.
“Women are just as competent as men, if not more. All this glass ceiling nonsense makes me want to hurl,” Zach had a fire in his eyes.
“You’ve got yourself a keeper, Lora,” Mia noted, tipping her glass in the direction of the lanky man across from her.
The three chatted and when their food finally arrived, dove in like starving pigs. Mia wasn’t even ashamed at mess of BBQ sauce she knew covered her face and threatened to get in her hair. She had skipped breakfast and had only eaten a light lunch, leaving her stomach crying for substance. Feathers’ wings were always the solution. She was busy with her conversation and food she hadn’t noticed when her phone buzzed a nearly nonstop hum of vibration.
Lora and Zach had been exchanging flirtatious looks and lingering touches. Mia couldn’t help but cheer her friend on as she rested her hand on top of Zach’s as they finished up eating and said their goodbyes. It seemed as if her dear friend wouldn’t be going home alone, after all. Mia on the other hand, Mia would return to her apartment solo. Benson had already told her he was busy doing whatever it is he did.
Without the comfort of the Bentley to take her home, Mia faced the chilly October air alone. She drew out her phone, her face paling when she noticed that over the course of two hours, she had a handful of missed calls from Benson and a lonely and brief text message instructing her to call him immediately. She dialed his number as she walked, the call going to voicemail. After another failed attempt she sent a text.
My phone was in my purse. I stopped by Feathers to see Lora. I assumed Victor told you.
She knew Victor had told Benson. That wasn’t what made Benson angry, though. He was possessive and liked, no needed, to know where Mia was constantly. She was surprised he hadn’t shown up at the bar after his fourth failed attempt at contact.
Mia curled up on her couch and watched Law and Order: SVU reruns once she arrived home, watching the loop of episodes she had already seen a dozen times until she fell asleep to Elliot Stabler’s perfect dad butt shortly after midnight. She woke a few hours later with drool on her hand, the TV flashing brightly into her sensitive eyes. She stumbled to shut it off, as well as her floor lamp, before falling into bed. She checked her phone quickly. It was four in the morning, and Benson still hadn’t responded to her. Mia was too tired to care.