Tell Me What You Want

by Megan Maxwell

  I stand up. I pace. And when I can finally unstick my tongue, I look back at him.

  “Why didn’t you tell me all this before?”

  “What? About Betta? Or Flyn? Or my eye disease?”

  “Your disease, your condition.”

  “Jude, it’s not something I want people to know.”

  “But I’m not people . . .”

  “I know, love, but . . .”

  “That’s why you always want me to look at you when we . . .”

  Eric nods.

  “I want to imprint your face, your expressions, on my retina, so I’ll remember them the day I can’t see.”

  The look of pain on his face is unbearable. What am I doing? I sit next to him and take his hands again.

  “You stubborn jerk, how could you keep this from me? I’ve . . . I’ve gotten angry with you. I’ve reproached you because of your absences, your mood swings, and . . . you . . . you didn’t say a word. Oh God . . . Eric . . . why?”

  Tears begin to fall. He hugs me and comforts me, though it should be the other way around. Finally, I pull away and stare at him.

  “Don’t look at me like that.”

  “Like what?” I ask.

  “Like you feel sorry for me.”

  Moved by his words, I hold him.

  “My love, don’t be foolish. I’m looking at you like that because I love you and I’m hurting for . . .”

  “See? I’m already doing you harm. I never should have let this go on.”

  “Don’t do that, Eric, please.”

  With a gesture I’ll remember my entire life, he takes my face in his hands.

  “Being by my side means suffering, love. I’m a man with too many responsibilities. A business to run, a problematic child to raise, and—as if that weren’t enough—a health problem. I think we’ve arrived at the moment in which you have to decide what you want to do. I’ll accept your decision no matter what it is.”

  I listen to him, my mouth agape; and suddenly, I just want to slap some sense into him. What stupid shit is this? My confidence returns. I pin my eyes on his martyred blue ones.

  “You’re not saying what I think you’re saying, right?”

  “Yes, Jude.”

  “You’re an idiot!”

  Eric grins.

  “You’re a beautiful young woman, a wonderful person, with your whole life ahead of you, and I . . .”

  “And you, what about you?” But I don’t let him answer, and I begin to yell at him like a woman possessed. “You may be a man with many responsibilities—your nephew and your condition and all—but you’re also the man I love. And if I wasn’t scared off by your sour face and your bad moods before, they’re not going to do much to me now. And you know why?”

  He shakes his head.

  “Because I’m not going to leave you, no matter how much you ask me to. Because I love you. Get that through your goddamned thick German skull. I don’t care about the rest. And if what needs to happen is for me to leave everything and go live with you in Germany, because I love you, I’ll think about it.”

  “Jude . . .”

  “How can you even think I’d leave you because of your illness?”

  Moved, Eric shakes his head again, and for the first time, I see him crying.

  “Jude, when my illness gets worse, the quality of my eyesight will be very limited. There’ll come a time when I’ll be a burden to you and . . .”

  “And?”

  “Don’t you understand?”

  “No, I don’t understand,” I say, breathlessly. “You’ll still be by my side. You’ll still be able to touch me and kiss me and make love to me, and I’ll do the same to you. Why do you doubt me?”

  “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he murmurs, “the best thing.”

  I want to cry, but instead, I take his hands from his eyes and dry his tears.

  “Well, if I really am the best thing that’s ever happened to you, then don’t ever talk about my leaving you, not even in jest, all right? Now tell me you love me and give me one of those kisses I like so much.”

  52

  The week starts out intense, and I try to process everything he’s told me.

  Betta? I’m not interested. I don’t care. I know Eric doesn’t want anything to do with her. I believe him, though I haven’t wanted to explore too deeply what he told me about his father. Now I understand why he doesn’t talk about him and why he omits him from everything.

  As far as his nephew goes, I understand, though the situation concerns me. If something were to happen to my sister and brother-in-law, I have no doubt Luz would come live with me. I’d take care of her and would not let her suffer for all the tea in China.

  Living in Germany is not something I’ve ever considered. But for Eric, I’d do it. I’d rather live with him than be bitter without him.

  These days, Eric spends more time in Germany. His nephew needs him. When he’s in Madrid and the alarm goes off at seven thirty, Eric is already up. He comes to me, kisses me tenderly, and I love it. We can’t go to the office together. People will gossip, and I don’t want that. Finally, Eric calls Tomás, who picks him up at my place. I get my car and drive to work.

  In the ninth-floor cafeteria, I’m having coffee with Miguel when I see Eric come in with my supervisor and two other supervisors. A furtive glance lets me know he’s uncomfortable seeing me with Miguel. But I don’t get up. Miguel is my friend, and Eric has to accept that.

  When we get back to our offices, I sense he’s watching me from his. Every time our eyes meet, I feel my body heat up, and it heats up even more when I feel his eyes looking me over.

  I know what he’s thinking.

  I know what he wants.

  But we both have to keep our composure until evening, when there will be time to enjoy our intimacy.

  At noon today, Eric leaves his office. His face is inscrutable. What’s going on? I carefully follow him with my eyes and see him head directly toward a young blonde by the elevators. They exchange a pair of kisses on the cheeks, and then she touches his face. Could that be Betta?

  They talk for a few minutes, and then they leave together. An hour later, Eric returns, wearing the same expression. I need him to call me into his office. I wait fifteen minutes, and when there’s no call, I take the initiative. When I go in, he’s on the phone. He sees me and tries to hang up.

  “I can’t right now, Mamá. I’ll call you later.” As soon as he finishes, he looks up at me. “Can I help you with something, Miss Flores?”

  “Neither Miguel nor my supervisor is around,” I tell him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Why would there be something wrong?”

  “Eric . . . I saw you leave with a young blonde and . . .”

  “So what?”

  There’s anger in his voice.

  I don’t like his tone, so without another word, I turn around and leave. Before I get to my desk, the office phone rings, and he asks me to come back. This time, I close the door behind me.

  “Jude . . . what did you really come to ask me?”

  “I thought we had agreed to be honest with each other, but I get the feeling that’s not the case today.”

  “Let’s go into the archive room.”

  “The archive room!”

  “Jude, it’s the only place here where we can have any privacy.”

  “Yes, but you want to fix everything in the archive room.”

  Without letting me utter another word, he grabs my arm and drags me to the archive room. Then he closes the door that goes to my supervisor’s office.

  “I swear there’s nothing to worry about with that woman.”

  “Great . . . but who is she?”

  “Give me a kiss and I’ll tell you,” he whispers to me with a smile.

  “No way. You tell me and then I’ll kiss you.”

  “Jude . . .”

  “Eric . . .”

  Without wasting any time, he grabs me again, pulls m
e to him, and kisses me. Then, when it seems he might clear up what I’m so curious about, I hear Miguel at the door of Eric’s office. Eric quickly looks over at me.

  “Don’t worry. I have a lot of work today and I can’t get distracted, but we’ll talk later, at home. All right, love?”

  I nod. He gives me a quick peck and leaves. I carefully open the archive-room door and exit out my supervisor’s office.

  After lunch, I go back to my desk and run into Eric on the way. He’s with the new administrative manager, and when he sees me, he greets me cordially. I smile through the heat he provokes in me and go straight to my desk. Once there, I grab some folders and go into the archive room. I’m surprised to find my supervisor working in several open drawers.

  “I’m looking for some information about Alicante and Valencia’s last quarter.”

  “Do you want me to look for you?”

  “No . . . I’ll look.”

  I turn to leave and find Eric standing at the door. He’s followed me here.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Zimmerman,” I murmur as I pass him.

  Hearing me, my supervisor lifts her eyes and sees Eric.

  “Give me a sec, Eric, and I’ll give you the info you asked for.”

  He watches as I leave a handful of documents on my supervisor’s desk. I smile at seeing him so nervous and tense. Then, just before exiting the office, I stop, lean on the doorknob, and raise my skirt to show him my thong. That makes me laugh, especially when I turn around and see his surprise.

  At my desk again, my cell buzzes. A text from Eric: I’m going to make you pay for what you just did. Degenerate!

  Barely moving, I turn and spy him at his desk. We look at each other for a few seconds. Then I realize he can see my legs from his position. I look all around to make sure the coast is clear. I open my legs and text him: This degenerate can’t wait to pay.

  I glance over at Eric, who’s clearly uncomfortable in his seat now. As soon as my supervisor comes out of the archive room, I quickly clap my legs shut. Then I chuckle like a naughty girl and get back to work.

  53

  When I leave the office at six o’clock, I get into my car and head home. As soon as I get there, I drop my bag on the couch, take off my suit jacket, and hear the front bell ring. It’s Eric, and he pounces on me with kisses.

  “Degenerate,” he says as he takes me in his arms and gives me a slap on the butt. “What are you doing, getting me all hot and bothered at the office?”

  I laugh, and he plays with my neck.

  “You have to pay for making me so hot all day.”

  I’m still laughing as he unbuttons my skirt and lets it fall. Freed, I bolt and run through the apartment. He’s after me, laughing too. In my bedroom, I leap onto the bed and start jumping up and down like a little kid. He grins as he unbuttons his shirt and then his pants.

  “Go ahead . . . Jump . . . Just wait till I catch you . . .”

  Happy right now, I jump off the bed and run toward the dining room. Eric grabs me in the hallway. He circles my waist and throws me against the wall. He presses his mouth to mine, and his tongue probes me.

  He opens my shirt and lets it drop to the floor. He undoes my bra and rips off my thong.

  “My God . . . ,” he says between laughter. “I’ve been wanting to do this all day.”

  I’ve been wanting for him to do it all day too, and when he sees my response, he grunts with satisfaction, lifts me in his arms, and slowly dives into me. I whimper, curve, and when I feel he’s stopped moving, I open my eyes.

  “C’mon . . . ,” I whisper.

  Eric laughs, pulls out, then slowly drives into me.

  “Eric . . .”

  “Yes, love?”

  “More . . . I want more.”

  He pulls out again.

  “More what?”

  My blood is boiling, and I dig my nails into his back, demanding he come back into me. He laughs, then makes his return. He ups his rhythm and gives me what I’m asking for.

  His thrusting gets deeper and deeper, and when my orgasm comes, his follows and he squeezes me to him.

  “Yes, Jude, yesssss.”

  Exhausted, we stay like that, against the wall, while I kiss his shoulder and he breathes on my neck.

  He drops me back on the floor, and we stroll over to the kitchen, completely naked. We drink some water, and as we return to the living room, he picks me up again.

  “Seeing you in the office and not being able to touch you is pure torture.”

  “Yes,” I confess, “it is for me too.”

  “I saw you with Miguel this morning. What were you up to?”

  “Breakfast, which is what we do every morning.”

  “That guy—”

  “Listen, mister,” I say, cutting him off. “Miguel and I are colleagues. We get along fantastically well, but that’s all. It’s true he flirts with me, but he knows, and knows well, he has no chance with me.”

  “See? You just confessed! He flirts with you!”

  I love his serious faces. His silly and unfounded jealousies are dear to me. I kiss him.

  “There’s zero danger. Don’t get out of whack over something that will never happen.”

  “Never?”

  “Never, Eric . . . Believe me. I only love and need you.” When I see how he looks at me, I’m a little afraid of what I just said. “I, on the other hand, have every right to get out of whack.”

  “You? Why?”

  I sigh. “Have you ever played with my supervisor?” I ask.

  He stares at me. For a moment, which feels eternal, he contemplates an answer.

  “I’ve had dinner with her, and I’ve fooled around with her verbally, but not much more than that. I don’t like to mix work and my games.”

  His answer cracks me up.

  “Whoa . . . Then what about me? I’ll remind you I work for your company.”

  “You’re my only exception. The moment I saw you in the elevator and you confessed that you could turn into the girl from The Exorcist, I think I fell in love with you.”

  “Oh really?”

  “Yes . . . That’s why I didn’t stop chasing you until I got you like this, naked and in my arms.”

  “This is good for me to know,” I say, quite charmed.

  Eric kisses me and takes my breath away.

  “I like knowing I have you . . . little girl.”

  I smile and take my turn kissing him.

  “From this moment forth, I forbid you fooling around verbally with my supervisor, OK?”

  “I love only you, my love. I need only you.”

  His mouth descends to my breasts; I lean back and pull away. Eric grins and slaps my ass.

  I laugh so hard, my sides hurt. Eric can’t stop laughing.

  “Let’s go take a shower,” he says as he recovers. “I want to pick up where we left off.”

  “Remember you said we have to have a serious talk.”

  “Indeed.” He smiles, and it’s all feral. “But now I have more important things to do, hon . . .”

  54

  When I get to work on Thursday, I’m surprised to see Miguel gathering his things.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Packing my stuff.”

  “Why?”

  Miguel sighs and shrugs. “They’re not renewing my contract, and ever kindly, they’ve informed me this is my last day.”

  I’m stunned.

  “Wait a minute. Have you talked to Mr. Zimmerman?”

  “No. What for? He doesn’t like me; you know that.”

  “Listen . . . You have to talk to him,” I insist. “Miguel, there’s unemployment left and right. Have you talked to my supervisor? You get along well with her . . .”

  “She’s the one who told me they weren’t renewing me,” Miguel says.

  That chaps my ass. How can that witch not renew his contract after she’s been his lover?

  “And you’re not going to do anything to help her change her mind?�
� Miguel just stares at me. “Listen, Miguel. I know you’ve been sleeping with her. Hell, I was in the archive room a few of the times you did it in her office.”

  Miguel blanches.

  “Are you kidding me? You knew?”

  “Yes, which is why I don’t understand why she doesn’t do something to renew your contract.”

  Miguel leans over his desk.

  “Look, Judith. All I can tell you is your supervisor and I haven’t been together in about a month. She’s found someone new. Óscar, the security guard.”

  I’m shocked by the news.

  “I’m going to talk to Zimmerman.”

  “Are you crazy?”

  “Just let me do it, OK?”

  Miguel sits down at his desk and keeps on packing while I head for Eric’s office. I knock first. “What can I help you with, Miss Flores?”

  “Mr. Zimmerman, why haven’t you renewed your admin’s contract?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Miguel is packing his things. My supervisor told him they’re not renewing his contract.”

  He’s as surprised as I am.

  “If your supervisor has decided not to renew his contract, she must have her reasons, don’t you think?”

  “He’s your admin!” I insist.

  The man with whom I’m in love stares at me.

  “I’ve never liked him; you know that,” he says.

  I’m flabbergasted.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Flores, but there’s nothing I can do.”

  “What do you mean you can’t do anything? You’re the boss, goddamn it. That idiot—and I could call her worse—has found herself a new lover. That’s why she’s firing him. For the love of God, Eric, do something. Relocate him. He was your father’s admin for years, and yours too.”

  “Miguel’s that important to you?”

  His question makes my blood boil.

  “He’s not important in the sense you’re referring to, so don’t twist my words. God! Is what I’m saying really that hard to understand?”

  “Fine.” He sighs. “I’ll talk to personnel. They’ll renew him, but they’ll transfer him to another department. I don’t want to see him here. Understood?”