by Alexis Angel
Apparently I didn't speak loudly.
"I said to fuck off," I say, looking at her. "And then I called you a bitch."
Lorna looks at me for a moment.
I don't know where that hand of hers comes from but it's at an awkward angle and trying to slap me.
I grab it by the wrist and hold it up. She yelps as I lift my body up.
Lorna tries to latch on, but I throw her.
Not hard, mind you, Gorgeous.
I'm a hard fucking man and I've left my enemies in the dust, but I would never touch a fucking woman.
No, I throw her against the sofa where she crouches as she looks at me.
I take one last look at her.
"I think our deal is fucking off," I tell her simply.
I'm not mad.
I'm just removing her from my goddamn life.
"If our deal is off, then your company is mine," Lorna shrieks. I pause and turn to look at her. She has no fucking clue. "I won't stop until Becca ends up just like her father!"
Becca told me all about her Dad and Lorna.
You know how I told you I never hit women?
Well, Gorgeous...just this once I am so fucking tempted.
But it won't do anything.
I'm strong enough to leave.
My mind is a jumble as I hail a cab that takes me downtown.
“Where do you want me to take you exactly, man?” the cabbie asks me and I jump.
I’d been in my own little world. Not even realizing that we’re already in Midtown.
Fuck, I need to get my mind off of this shit.
“Just drop me near 6th Avenue far corner,” I tell the cabbie and he pulls up to the curb. I swipe and get out.
I need to get my mind off of Lorna.
I also need to get it off of Becca. I mean, my brain needs a complete reboot.
So what do I do?
I head into Lace.
It’s a strip club off 35th street, in the shadow of the Empire State Building.
Don’t shake your head, Gorgeous. New York City is filled with strip clubs, massage parlors, peep shows, and brothels.
They’re just sitting right in front of you in plain sight.
Times Square? You got peep shows where you pay a buck per minute to jerk off to the girl in the room fingering herself.
Near Grand Central? $200 an hour gets you a massage with a happy ending from a fucking Eastern European or Asian masseuse.
On the East Side? $300 and up and you can go into apartment buildings and pick the girl and take her for an hour to a room where you can fuck her brains out.
Sure, I’ve done some of it.
But I work on Wall Street. This is the fucking culture.
“Hey Mason, long time,” a stripper says as I enter the dimly lit main stage.
I look at her.
“Destiny?” I ask. She smiles at me.
Right. I forgot to tell you that there have been a host of Kane Price department parties at this place. Destiny and I have had our share of fun in the past.
She’s a good fuck. Just likes her pussy liked and her ass spanked and for me to cum all over her face.
“What you looking for today?” she asks, her hands traveling to her tits. “Fuck me in the Champagne room or you want me to blow you in the VIP?”
I look at her for a second.
That’s when it hits me.
Did I just leave Lorna to come here?
“Just give me a second, alright?” I tell her and go outside again.
Thankfully, the rain has stopped.
I look downtown.
In my old life, I would have been looking either inside to Destiny or uptown to Lorna.
In my old life, I would have no problem fucking Lorna. Hell, I might have even traded in my morals and enjoyed it.
But I’ve changed.
I realize that I’m no longer the same person.
It took me a long time to figure this out, but I realize that I’ve been a complete idiot.
My company is something I built. The whole ‘King of Wall Street’ is something I built for myself.
But it doesn’t mean a damn without the woman I love being by my side.
I need Becca. I love Becca.
But it’s already late. And I don’t want to text her booty call fashion on top of everything she’s been through.
I need to go home and calm down. Then I need to wake up in the morning and work out.
And then, around noon, after she’s had enough time, I need to go make things right with her.
And never look back.
Becca
They say yoga is like refreshment to the soul. It’s with that in mind that I put on a tight tank top and squeeze myself inside a pair of yoga pants. I place the rubber mat in the living room, at my feet, and close my eyes. Exercise has always helped me deal with the stress at work, and I just hope it will help me the same when it comes to matters of the heart. Because there’s no other way to put it: right now, my heart is shattered.
After tasting what real love and lust feels like, I truly don’t know how to move on with my life now. Mason is on my mind constantly: I’ve been thinking about him nonstop since I ran out of the Four Seasons last night, and I dreamt of him when last night even as I was asleep. It’s torture, plain and simple, and I have no idea on how to escape from the pain.
I go down on the mat, placing my hands in front of me, and arch my back, taking one deep breath. I start slow, assuming an easy position, but then progress to more complicated ones, pushing both my mind and body to the limit. As time passes and beads of sweat start to form on my skin, I feel my body relaxing - still, the gears inside my head keep on turning and turning, Mason’s smile dancing behind my closed eyelids.
Trying some of the hardest positions, I let my muscles work until they’re exhausted and, only when I can no longer move, do I lay down on the mat. Sprawled on the floor, I look at the ceiling, the pounding of my heart against my eardrums. Locks of hair are plastered to my forehead, glued to my skin by sweat, and I already feel my shirt sticking to my body. Sighing heavily, I sit up and purse my lips, giving up on trying to forget about Mason. Forget about yoga, I need something more drastic.
I go up to my feet and, grabbing my cellphone, I go through the contact list. My heart starts to race, and there’s a little voice in my head, whispering for me to get a hold of myself. I know that I’m about to do something terribly stupid, but I just can’t help myself. Heartbreak is the leading cause for bad decisions, it seems.
Remember Robert? Well, he has been sending me text messages almost every day, even though I never bother to respond. I figured that after our failed date and Mason’s intervention, that he would see the painting on the wall and simply forget about me. Of course, I couldn’t be any more mistaken about that. If anything, it seemed that when Mason entered the scene that Robert’s competitive streak flared up. Now, alone and depressed after a failed yoga session, I’m glad that he hasn’t given up.
When his name pops up on the screen, I double tap it and take a deep breath as my thumb moves across the screen. “Want to have lunch?” I write, my thumb then hovering over the SEND button. Don’t do it, Becca, my rational mind seems to say, but I can’t stop myself - I press the icon on the screen, and the message flies away from my cellphone and into his.
I throw my phone back on top of the table, expecting for him to take a while to respond, but his answer is almost an immediate one: the moment I let go of the phone, it vibrates at once. I pick it up, unlock it, and feel my heart tightening up as I see Robert’s response. “Yes! We can have lunch at your place. I’ll bring wine,” his text says. Fully knowing that I shouldn’t be doing this, I text him back a simple “sure”.
I went from trying to set up a lunch with Robert to now having him come into my house with wine. To say that I’m not thinking straight would be putting it mildly, I know. Sighing, I look down at the clock on my phone and, realizing that Robert will probably be here in a hour
or so, I head straight for the bathroom. I get undressed and, hopping into the shower, I step under the hot water and let it wash over me, pushing all my anxiety to the back of my mind. It doesn’t work, of course, but I have no idea on what else I should do. I never really had to deal with heartbreak before and, now that I find myself going through it, I’m at a complete loss. Nobody ever told me that it was this hard.
When I finally get out of the shower, I put on a matching black lace bra and thong, and then squeeze myself into a close fitting dress. The dress is a bit revealing, showing more of my cleavage than what I’m used to, but by now I’m far from thinking straight. Am I actually expecting for something to happen between Robert and I? No, that whisper of rationality seems to say, and I know it’s the truth. I’m not expecting it to happen, and I don’t want it to happen… But the pain in my heart is guiding all of my decisions right now and, as I step out of my room wearing a provocative dress, I’m no longer sure of what I’m doing. I’m working on auto-pilot, and I’ve set it to drive me all the way against the wall. Right now, all I want is to crash and burn - self-loathing at its best, I guess.
I sit down on my couch, waiting for Robert, but I don’t have to wait long. When the clock strikes 12, there’s a knock at my door, and my heart almost explodes at the sound of it. I go up to my feet, straighten the hem of my dress, and put on a fake smile on my lips. God, what the hell am I doing?
Stopping in front of the door, I take one deep breath as I reach for the handle. I wait one long second before turning it and, when I do, I feel my knees shaking. I can’t back down from this now.
When I open the door, I try and put on my best smile as I see Robert. He’s holding a bottle of red wine in his hands, and there’s a truly happy smile on his lips. On his eyes, I can already see hunger and lust holding hands, and I’m not sure that I like it. But, just like I said, it’s too late to back down from this.
“Hey,” I greet him meekly, accepting the bottle as he hands it to me.
“Hey,” he repeats and, without giving me the time to react, leans into me and kisses me on the cheek. Oh, God, this is already going sideways. I bet he expects to fuck me once we empty his bottle of wine.
I know I should try and put a stop to this while there’s still time, but the autopilot is in full throttle. “Come in,” I tell him, stepping to the side and allowing him to get in. I close the door behind me, and anxiety kicks in with all its forces. Crap, what the hell got through my mind for me to invite Robert over? Or, rather, to allow him to invite himself over.
I go up to the kitchen counter and, setting the bottle down, I rummage through the drawers, trying to find the bottle opener. While I do it, Robert leans on the counter, looking at me with that barely contained hunger in his eyes. I don’t mind when men look at me like that but, somehow, he’s giving me the creeps. Maybe it’s because I’ve grown accustomed to having Mason look at me like that… Maybe it’s because I’ll never be with a man again without thinking of Mason. He ruined me for other men, that’s for sure, and I’m not talking about his massive cock - although, I’ll admit, I’m going to miss it for the rest of my life. Hey, don’t judge - you don’t come across a man with a cock that big often in your life. And he also knew how to use it, don’t forget about that.
“What’s for lunch?” He asks me, and I almost slap my forehead with the palm of my hand. Lunch! Fuck, I completely forget about that.
“I, uh, I didn’t have the time to prepare anything. Maybe we should go out?” I try hesitantly. At the same time, I finally find the bottle opener and place it on the counter, next to the bottle. Robert reaches for it with a smile and, grabbing at the bottle, starts to uncork it.
“Don’t worry, Becca. We can order in something… What matters is that we’re here together, isn’t it?” He says, and I notice his eyes wandering down to my cleavage. Suddenly, I feel like a complete idiot for putting on a dress like this. What did I think would happen?
“I… I guess,” I stammer, reaching for two glasses of wine. As I set them on the counter, Robert proceeds to serve the wine. My heart kicks and punches against my chest as the sound of wine hitting glass reaches my ears. When I go for one of the glasses, I realize that my hands are shaking, and I have to take a deep breath. I take one long gulp, hoping that it will steady my nerves. With each passing second, I feel more and more uncomfortable about being along with Robert, and the fact that I was the one setting all this into motion doesn’t really help… I can’t exactly kick him out without looking like a complete bitch.
“What would you like to order in?” He asks me, going around the counter and closing in the distance between me and him. With each step he takes, my heart starts to pound louder, just like an alarm. “Or maybe we can think about that later…” He continues, lowering his voice and brushing two fingers against my cheek. I tremble as I feel his touch and, reacting by instinct, I take one step back, almost spilling the wine all over my dress.
“We can order now,” I blurt out, reaching for my cellphone while my mind goes into overdrive. I try and look for a restaurant that does home deliveries, but I can barely concentrate on what’s on the screen. Robert reaches for my phone and simply plucks it out of my hands, placing it on the counter.
“You’re nervous,” he whispers, smiling at me. “That’s okay. I’m a bit nervous too…” I gulp as he comes up at me and, taking another step back, I hit the fridge with my back. My eyes dart to his crotch, and I notice something bulging underneath his pants. Oh, God, I can’t believe that he’s already hard.
Coming up to me, he presses his body against mine, taking both hands to my face. As I feel his boner on my leg, I immediately react by pushing him back and stepping to the side. My mouth has suddenly grown dry, and I guess I can say the same thing about my pussy.
“Robert… I think you’ve misunderstood me,” I start, looking at him as I try to find the right words. I told him he could come over, I’m wearing a skimpy dress… And now I’m telling him that he has misunderstood my intentions? Well, that’s rich of me. Still, I don’t care - whatever I’m wearing, no man has the right to put a move on me without my consent. That’s right, I might be a lot of things, but I’ll never allow anyone to walk over me. Especially when sex is concerned.
“You’re just scared,” he continues, still walking toward me. The guy is relentless. “But you don’t need to be… I want you, Becca. I’ve dreamed of you every single night since I first saw you.” How do you spell creepy? Oh, right, R-o-b-e-r-t.
As if the universe conspired to save me from his advances, someone knocks on the door. I step out of his reach and walk hurriedly toward the door, turning the handle without bothering to ask who’s on the other side. My heart skips a beat as I see the man in front of me. Yes, I know what you’re thinking… And you’re right.
“Becca…” Mason says my name as he steps inside the apartment. In his clear blue eyes, I can almost see my reflection.
“Mason…” I say, my heart tightening up so much that I no longer know how in the world it continues to beat. He smiles tenderly at me, and then he notices that we’re not alone. He looks at Robert with one arched eyebrow, and I notice his eyes wandering to the bottle of wine on the counter. Finally, he look straight at Robert. His smile vanishes, and he purses his lips; I wish I could have a hole where I could hide right now.
He looks into my eyes, and I give him a weak smile. I’m sorry, I mouth, biting on my lower lip with regret. With a quick nod, I give him my assent to do what needs to be done.
“Get out,” he tells Robert, turning to him with a serious expression on his face. He’s completely relaxed, but I notice his hands balling into fists, almost as if he’s ready to crash them into Robert’s face at a moment’s notice.
“You can’t simply walk in here and --” Without bothering to hear what Robert has to say, Mason walks over to him and grabs him by the scruff of his shirt.
“Get. The. Fuck. Out.” He tells him, and I can almost see Robert shrinking in
size. To have someone as imposing as Mason telling you to fuck off has be an intimidating experience. He opens his mouth to speak but, like a fish suffocating on too much oxygen, he simply closes it again. When Mason lets go of him, he straightens the collar of his shirt and, trying to act as dignified as possible - and failing miserably - he walks toward the door.
Before he leaves, he throws me a pissed off look and then simply storms out, slamming the door behind him. I turn to Mason at once, looking as apologetic as possible.
“What are you doing here?” I ask him, desperate to know everything about the tender expression he looks at me... Somehow, I already knows what he wants to say, but I need to hear it all the same.
“I was wrong, baby girl. I was so fucking wrong,” he whispers, closing the distance between him and I and placing both his hands on my hips.
"Fuck the world, Becca," he says. "They can fucking take everything from me. My company. My title. My money. But I swear to fucking God they will never take me away from you. Ever again."
Tears stream down my eyes.
"I fucking love you, baby girl," he tells me.
"I love you too, Daddy," I says with a mischievous smile - so happy that I feel drunk.
“And I’m sorry,” he says, his eyes penetrating mine.
“I’m… sorry as well,” I manage to say, biting on my bottom lip as I remember the look on Mason’s eyes as he realized I was all alone with Robert.
“No, that’s my fault for being a fucking idiot,” he whispers, and then leans in to kiss me. The moment our lips touch, everything is right with the world once more. Heartbreak? What does that even mean?
“Promise me,” I whisper, pressing my forehead against his, “promise me that you won’t leave ever again.”
“I promise,” he tells me with a smile, and then runs his fingers through my hair. I look into his eyes, my heart beating a tender song of love. When everything seemed lost, the wheel of Karma turned and turned and now here we are… Together. And nothing will ever come between us. I just know it; whatever it is that life throws at us, we won’t allow anything to pull us apart, not anymore.