by Cerys du Lys
I had known Asher for two days. This morning was the start of the third day. The first had been a short, though thorough meeting, and the second was our first somewhat full day together. This third day was our last, and after that I would never see him again. I'd played at a game of temptations and now I was paying the price for losing.
It was so wonderful, though! I could see why Asher enjoyed photography. Or, I didn't quite understand it, but I saw how much he got into it. I hadn't meant to, not exactly, but I became so swept up in his passion for his hobby that I wanted and needed more. In the end, without thinking, both of us had sex on the floor in front of the fireplace in his guest house. Why did I think this might lead to something more? Honestly, right now I couldn't have answered.
It led to nothing, though. Asher told me to leave. I lay on the floor, having slept there overnight, waiting. Before he left, he told me that Jeremy would bring me home in the morning. It was morning now, but no one had come for me yet. When he did, I wasn't sure what I should do.
I was naked still, laying on his lush carpet. I'd borrowed a quilted down blanket from the back of the couch nearby to keep me warm through the night and provide a moderate amount of cover, but who was I kidding? If Jeremy walked in right now, he'd know what happened. And then what? Did I want him to know? Maybe Asher did this often. Maybe he seduced women, convinced them of one thing or another, lured them to his home under the guise of modeling for his photography, and slept with them. Then, after, he kicked them out. It seemed like a typical thing for a man to do. It had never happened to me before, but I had friends who went through similar situations.
But, why? I asked myself this question over and over again. What was wrong? Why did he want me gone? His marriage, yes, but he must have wanted it, too, must have wanted to sleep with me. His photography wasn't of the needlessly erotic sort, at least as far as he mentioned, but the pictures he took of me were racy enough to show up in any men's magazine. Though, of course I didn't quite think I was attractive enough to pull something like that off, but Asher did. Or, he said he thought I was. I needed to remind myself that there was a big difference between what someone said and what someone actually thought.
I needed to do a lot of things, and yet in the warm, morning light, a hint of sunshine tingling across my bare forearm as it peeked out from beneath the blanket, I couldn't think of any of them. I wanted to lay there all day and forget everything. I wanted to remember last night with Asher, to relive it, to memorize every part of it so I would never forget.
My body shifted beneath the blanket, fidgeting. Everything felt so nice. The carpet tickling across my skin and the feel of the quilted blanket caressing across my stomach and the tops of my thighs and between them and on my breasts. Without thinking about it, I let my hand nestle between my legs and tease at my lower lips. When I realized what I was doing, I also realized I was aroused.
I wanted to masturbate so much. Actually, I wanted Asher to return, apologize, whisper adorations into my ear and beg for my forgiveness, then take me again right then and there in his guest house, but I knew that wouldn't happen. I thought of it, though. More and more, how he would touch me, what it would feel like. The expression on his face and the love in his eyes. My body tensing under his exquisite touch.
Right now my body tensed under my own touch, but it wasn't quite the same.
Knock, knock, knock.
Too wrapped up in my fantasy, I didn't hear the person knocking on the door. My fantasy unraveled as I built myself up to a hasty climax and let the feeling of it drift over me like a light, summer breeze.
Knock, knock, knock.
The second time they knocked, I had a delayed reaction. I lay there, still and calm, delighting in the wonderful feeling of ignoring all my problems. But, then, the knocking. Someone was at the door. My God! I was naked, hidden under a blanket, with my clothes scattered on the floor. I panicked and jumped up, dressing as fast as I could.
...
What was he doing? What had he done?
Asher didn't know. Out of all his years of marriage, he hadn't even entertained the thought of cheating on his wife. Beatrice wasn't unfaithful to him, either; at least as far as he knew. They rarely saw each other now, only in passing for a few days of the month when she returned from her trips. This bothered him, but what was he supposed to do about it?
The answer, he knew, was not to cheat on his wife.
Should he tell her? He had to. It was the only option, despite the fact that he dreaded it. And, then what? Divorce? Or not? Would she care?
He loved Beatrice and he wanted the best for her. But, he wasn't in love with her. Actually, at the moment, he had no idea what he was. Loved, in love, loved by someone, absolutely abhorred by everyone? They all seemed about the same right now.
Jessika had him completely undone in only moments. He hadn't expected that. What little he knew of her, he thought he'd understood, but apparently not. With only a few simple actions, a couple of fairly innocent seeming moves, she'd lured him towards completely giving in to temptation. Though, in all honesty, he doubted she did it on purpose. She'd seemed... confused?
Asher didn't blame her for anything that happened. He was a grown adult, a powerful businessman, and he knew to take responsibility for his actions. After their time in the car, driven home by his driver, Jeremy, he knew he needed to be careful around her. And, yet, when everything came crashing down, he lost himself.
But, God, she was so attractive. He couldn't place why, but he knew it when he saw it. The curve of her hips and the way she squirmed on the carpet in his guest house. She seemed so out of place and unresisting, knowing nothing of what she should do but doing it because he asked it of her. Her skin, her touch; she felt soft and delicate and unsure but wanting to try more for his sake.
Beatrice was none of that. And, Asher never expected her to be. It wasn't her and he didn't want her to be something she wasn't. He understood that, and thought he'd accepted it, but with Jessika...
Jessika was something else entirely, and he couldn't deal with her. Despite everything, no matter what he felt or thought, he had obligations. It was morning now and he needed to attend to business matters, but he would write up a letter of apology and send her a gift sometime later, then be done with her. Jeremy would drive her home after he left, and Asher would never see her again.
It wasn't what he wanted, but it was what he needed to do.
...
I sat at the two-person island table by the kitchenette in Asher Landseer's guest house, watching Jeremy cook. He'd said he wasn't anything special in the kitchen, but after watching him for awhile I disagreed.
"The thing is," Jeremy said while constantly stirring a pan of eggs, "Asher probably doesn't know what he wants half the time. You should see his library in the main house. It's full of every kind of book you could imagine, and whenever I see him in there he's reading something entirely different. Epic fantasy novels, classic science fiction, historical romance, mystery thrillers, action and adventure, and whatever else. He probably reads more than that, too. Who knows what's on his Kindle, Nook, Kobo eReader, and his iPad? Why's he need all of those? I have no idea."
"Maybe he uses them to categorize his books?" I offered. "Like, he puts different genres on each? Fantasy and science fiction on the Kindle, and Romance on the Nook, then literary fiction on the Kobo, and everything else on the iPad?"
"Huh." Jeremy chuckled and tossed me a smile over his shoulder. "Maybe. I never would have thought of that. That's not a bad idea, though. Seems like something Asher would do."
I smiled; back at Jeremy and to myself. It wasn't the same, but I felt like I was getting to know Asher in some sense. Through secondhand sources, alternate information, but I liked it. I wanted to know more about him and I hoped maybe this would give me a way to reconcile with him.
All of a sudden, everything happened at once. The toaster popped, perfectly browned toast waiting to be plucked out. A timer on the miniature rotisse
rie oven started beeping, soft but sure. And Jeremy nodded and said, "Yup," while glancing at the scrambled eggs in his pan. He scooped half the eggs onto a waiting plate, dashed for the fridge, grabbed a container, then a spoon from a drawer nearby, this, that, and the next thing.
When all was said and done, I had a plate in front of me consisting of scrambled eggs mixed with a dollop of some kind of thick cream, a pair of sausages, and two pieces of buttered toast.
"Wow," I said, staring at the food. "Looks good."
"Pft!" Despite his assumed modesty, Jeremy grinned, cocksure. "Nothing too fancy."
"What's this in the eggs?" I asked.
"Ah, a trade secret. I can teach you sometime..." He paused, frowning. "Well, I can't actually teach you it sometime, I guess, but it's crème fraiche. You can buy it most anywhere, but you have to know where to look."
I nibbled on the eggs, using my fork to scoop a bit of them into my mouth. "What did you mean?" I asked.
Between a heaping mouthful of his own scrambled eggs, he managed to say, "Wha?"
"What did you mean you can't actually teach me it?"
"Ah, well..." Jeremy stuffed some toast into his mouth, chewing loudly. Not, I thought, because he did this usually, but because he didn't know what to say. Honestly? It was something I probably would have done, too.
"The thing is," Jeremy said. "I don't know exactly what went on between you two. Business, whatever, who knows? I can guess, but why bother? Anyways, Asher told me to drive you home this morning. He's off doing business things right now, whatever that is, and he told me to make sure I bring you home once he's gone. Also, he said to ask about things you like, since he wants to send you a gift basket. But, and this sounds like a nice thing at first even if it's not, Asher doesn't typically send gift baskets to people. He only does it when he plans to cut ties with someone, as he says. He didn't say that to me about you, but that's what he does."
I paused mid-chew, then swallowed the rest of the toast in my mouth without thinking. It scraped down my throat, choking me, until I swallowed harder and drank some of the water from my glass, too. Eyes watering slightly, I looked at Jeremy, my expression blank.
"Is that it, then?" I asked. "I..." I didn't know what to think, but it seemed so definitive and done. I knew it was going to happen, but it still hurt to hear it. "Does he do this often? Bring women home and then 'cut ties' with them afterwards?"
"Look," Jeremy said. "No. No, he doesn't. And if that's what happened, it's not my place to pry about it, either. Asher's a nice guy, though. From everything I know about him, I wouldn't think he'd ever do something like that. So, going off that, it would be you who caused the issue, if you get what I mean?"
"Me?" I asked, stunned. "I didn't do anything!"
But, thinking back, was I really blameless? He told me we couldn't go further, we could only be friendly towards one another, but I disregarded that. I wanted more, practically thought I needed more, and... well, the current situation spoke for itself, really. I'd pushed too hard, and now I sat here waiting for a man I barely knew to drive me home.
"I'm not saying you did do something," Jeremy added after the fact. "I'm saying that's what it looks like. You don't seem the type, though. Too soft."
"What do you mean I'm too soft?" I said, perturbed. "I'm not too soft."
"Oh, yeah?" he asked, some mischievous smirk on his face.
"I'm not!"
"Well..."
This was a bad omen, and I knew it, but I let his word, his expression, the hint of deception lilting in everything he did, stoke the faint hint of hope I had within me. This man, Jeremy, knew more about Asher than I could possibly know, and if he said something was truth, anecdotal or not, it probably was true. I didn't want to be a tie, something so easily cut and discarded, assuaged with a gift basket and maybe some fancy letter stating that he wished me the best of luck. I refused.
And, Jeremy told me what he was thinking. He mentioned a few details, quite clearly stating he shouldn't mention these to me, and that whatever meaning I took from them was not his problem. Listening to him, I gained a newfound appreciation for my breakfast and heartily ate everything on my plate. Besides the fact that it was delicious, I thought I should prepare for the day in a proper manner. We finished eating, and then Jeremy stood to leave.
"So, are you coming?" he asked pointedly. "Asher told me to drive you home."
"No," I said. "I'm not."
Jeremy shrugged. "Well, I tried." With that, he left, but not before laughing and giving me a friendly wave.
I didn't really understand it all. I don't know what I was thinking, or how I expected to do any of this, but I'd decided to do it. What was the worst that could happen? Probably quite a bit, actually. Asher could return, find out I was still here, call the police, have me taken into custody, potentially file charges against me for multiple reasons, true or not. A man as rich as him could probably do almost anything he wanted, and...
Why was I thinking about these things? Be strong, Jessika! I told myself this, but I felt anything but. Still, I needed to do this, or do nothing, and if I did nothing I felt like I would regret it forever.
...
"What do you mean she refused to leave?" Asher asked. He had a chance to call Jeremy on a short break between meetings and this was not at all what he expected to hear. Why had he called, though? He didn't really know, and he didn't know how he felt about what Jeremy was saying, either.
"Sorry, boss. I told her I was there to bring her home, and she said she wasn't leaving." Jeremy paused, then added, "What do you want me to do? Call the police?"
Asher hesitated. He wanted to say yes, because that's what people in his position said, right? She was, while not exactly trespassing, not currently welcome on his property. And...
"No," Asher said. "She'll leave. Go check on her at noon and tell her I told her she needs to leave."
"Right. She needs to leave or what?" Jeremy asked.
Asher blinked. Or what? "Don't mention that part. There won't be any reason to. She'll leave. I'm sure of it."
Jeremy laughed. "Alright. You're the boss."
Asher furrowed his brow, frowning. There was something more to this, and Jeremy must know about it, but for the life of him Asher couldn't figure it out.
...
I wandered through the guest house. It was bigger than I thought. The main living area I'd spent the night in was most of the first floor, then the kitchenette area added in, too. On the second floor, as I'd suspected, were two bedrooms. They looked tidy and unused and completely perfect, like they belonged in a fancy hotel instead of a home. Closets in each room with empty hangers and a small safe tucked into the back corner. Nothing in either safe, and in each room both of them were wide open, but it added to the perfection of the place. Nice rooms, but completely inhospitable in my opinion. I could sleep in one for a night, but not for a lifetime.
A little clutter was nice. Not too much, but enough. Maybe a shirt draped across the back of a chair, or a couple of tissues tossed into a bedside waste basket. A partially used candle on the bedside table, or a picture on the wall slightly tilted. Not enough for anyone to really notice, but something that, over time, the person living there would realize.
And you never changed those things, because it became a part of the house. I didn't know about Asher's upbringing, but that's how mine was. Quiet and quaint, and while I lived in a city for most of my life, it still felt like I was isolated from the rest of the world sometimes.
For good measure, I mussed up the bed. I pulled back a corner of the sheets and tousled them so that the bed didn't looked perfect anymore. Mostly perfect, but not quite. I opened the unopened box of tissues on the bedside table and tossed one into the wastebasket. Then I washed my hands in the bathroom connected to the master bedroom and left soap residue on the back of the sink.
And... the shower? Hm.
I needed to take one, because. Besides the fact that I showered every day, I especially need
ed one soon. After my intimate moment with Asher last night, I hadn't had a chance to clean off, and I knew I must not be at my freshest. Jeremy hadn't said anything, but I had the feeling Jeremy wasn't the type of person to notice, or complain, about that kind of thing in the first place.
I turned on the shower and slipped out of my clothes, scandalously deciding to leave the door to the bathroom open. If Asher showed up, could he resist the temptations of my slippery, seductive body? Covered in soap and suds and bubbles, clean and perfect and...?
Perhaps I was dreaming, but I enjoyed my dreams. I checked the water temperature with my toes before stepping into the overlarge tub. Jacuzzi-style, with a shower head up above and glass doors that closed around it to keep the steam inside. On a whim, I stoppered the tub and let it fill with water from the shower.
Small vials of soap rested on a shelf built into the tiled wall. While the tub filled with water, I browsed through my options. Regular shampoos, conditioners, body wash, and... yes! Bubbles and scented salts. I tossed the entirety of both into the rising water(not that this was a lot, seeing as they were more like sample size bottles, but still). Immediately the scent of fresh lavender rose up, and then the bubbles trickled forth with the turmoil of the shower water. I moved the showerhead so it sprayed towards my feet, then sat in the bubbling water.
It felt so nice. I had a bathtub at my apartment, but it was nothing like this. Utilitarian at best, and put in just so the landlord could say it had a bathtub, mainly. If I stood in it, the water barely came to the bottom of my knees, and only then if I let the tub overflow. In Asher's bathtub, when it was full, I could sink completely beneath the water if I wanted. The water lifted up, rising higher, covering my legs, then my raised knees, creeping up my stomach towards my breasts, and higher still until only my head remained above water. When this happened, I drifted towards the shower knobs and twisted them, stopping the water. I suppose I could have used the conventional faucet to till the tub, but I liked showers since they spread the bubbles more.