Lily's Temptation Vol. 1

by Michaels, C. C.

  Maddox grabs my arm and pulls me to him, his strong hand easily encircling my upper arm. I glance down at it as he says, “Close the curtain.” I look up at his eyes, those eyes that pin me to my place. The words come out in a deep, commanding tone, one that I can’t resist and I’m compelled to obey.

  I rush to slide the curtain around the bed then return to sit on the edge of the bed facing him. Maddox pulls me into his full lips and my world goes spinning off its axis. Fits of pure elation are interrupted by fleeting thoughts of being caught, and my blood rushes even faster. Maddox runs his hands over my breasts and then down to my ass. His fingers trickle over my body like water. I make some half-hearted attempt to remind him someone could walk in on us and he presses his mouth harder onto mine after mouthing, “No one will know. You are so beautiful….” with the full weight of lust in his eyes. The moments when I pull back from his kisses are filled with the terror of being caught, but when our lips touch, those fears dissolve. He reaches up and takes the lapel of my white lab coat and peels it back off my right shoulder. Then without taking his eyes off of me, he says, “Take it off.” I comply, pulling at the sleeves until it falls to the floor next to the bed. I wet my lips and I feel his hand slide up under my blouse.

  He looks at me, his eyes begging, and says, “Just slide up her, get on top of me.”

  I glance back at the closed curtain as if it had disappeared, and say, “I can’t…”

  “Come on, Lily, I want you so badly, just pull up your skirt and spread your legs over me. Come on, I can slide it in…”

  I inhale and close my eyes. What am I doing? This is insane.

  Suddenly, his other hand dives under the sheet and he pulls me in tight, my head in the crook of his elbow, almost like he has me in a kind of passionate head lock, my hair falling down around us like a curtain. With panting breaths, he holds me tight, his eyes closed, and I feel a rocking sensation as he strokes himself under the sheet. He breathes me in as he works it harder. I try to pull back out of his embrace, but the strength of his powerful arm holds me in place and he kisses me harder, thrusting his tongue deep into my mouth. He feels my slight resistance and exhales the words through gritted teeth, “Just stay there, and don’t move. Oh, God...”

  I know that people are just a few steps beyond this room and a nurse could, at any moment, walk in on us but the sensation is too powerful. I can’t tell if this is wrong anymore and once again I don’t care because my brain is being flooded with pleasure endorphins. I can’t stop, I don’t want to stop. Maddox buries his nose in my neck saying, “I’ve wanted this ever since I first saw you,” and heaves his body in pleasure as he comes. He is all vowels as he climaxes. His head slumps down from my chest and I attempt to pull back, but he tightens his grip and squeezes me, as if holding on for his life.

  Maddox lifts his head up; exhaustion is written all over his face. He pulls me in and wraps his arms around me. I run my finger through his hair and all of a sudden the rush of paper work, patients, and my job beat out any pleasure. I slip off the edge of the bed and back away from Maddox, like he’s too hot to touch. I fix my tousled hair, smooth out my blouse, and compose myself.

  As I look down at my disheveled top, I notice one of the buttons has popped off, no doubt from the frantic actions of Maddox’s hands as he reached for my breasts. I consider it a mark of satisfaction on his part, a kind of victory for him. I snatch up my white lab coat that lays crumpled in a pile on the floor and shrug it on, buttoning it shut to cover my now-exposed cleavage from the button mishap.

  Maddox’s face is blank; neither one of us knows what to say next. I know that if I let him talk he will convince me to stay. So I have to speak first. I have to let him know this was…I don’t know what, but it can’t happen again. I spout out apologies, saying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I…listen, no one can know so…” My words find no momentum. Maddox raises his hand to stop me.

  “You don’t have to apologize.” His voice is mellow and effortless. He’s still panting but a smile spreads over his face as he says, “It’s as much my responsibility as yours.” He speaks with such confidence, almost in a daring way, as if someone could walk in right now and Maddox would be perfectly content. He smiles as he leans his head back into the pillows. I tell him I have to go, trying to make my voice sound professional. He asks me when I will be back to see him. His head shoots forwards and his face wrinkles in anticipation of my answer.

  I tell him I will see him soon. A smile spreads over his face. I bite my lip as I think about the conversation with Brian, and the impending interrogation I will have to force on Maddox.

  I step back out into the hall. As I close the door, I take one last look at Maddox, those deliciously sexy eyes, his sculpted muscles pushing out his skin in just the right places to create sinful definition and I tell him to get some rest. He quickly replies, “That won’t be a problem now.” I raise an eyebrow. What a smartass.

  I walk past Ms. Margaret, who is digging in the trash for cans. She sees me walking in her direction and calls out, “Come on now, pretty doctor; come on, give me a smile.” I smile at Ms. Margaret holding a trash bag half full of cans in her right hand. The bag clunks and clinks each time it is moved. There are pools of soda mixed with orange juice at the bottom of the clear bag.

  “Were you and the cop talking about me?” Ms. Margaret asks. Her head tilts back as her eyes stay trained on me. I slow my pace as I approach her.

  “How did you know—”

  “I noticed his posture. Cops set their weight to one leg or the other and after taking many statements, on their feet all day, it’s no wonder, but ya gotta figure its bad on the spine.”

  “You knew he was law enforcement from his posture?” I ask with a sarcastic tone, and start walking away.

  “That-- and his gun, of course.” As I pass her, her bag clunks and she says, “Sharpen your dagger tonight.” I stop and turn to her. “Is there a rat in our house?”

  “Excuse me?” I say, raising one eyebrow at her.

  “Ooooh, I’ve done it now, haven’t I? Did I upset the good doctor? Or are you too busy with your plotting to tangle with the working class?”

  Ms. Margaret’s voice is strolling with confidence. It flows out into a full strut, sizing me up and circling around me. She tilts her head back with her piercing eyes boring their way into me. I try to work the busy doctor angle on her and flee, but she drops her bag and follows me with the enthusiasm of a child. She asks me what I was talking about with the cop. I give her a half-truth, telling her we were discussing Mandel’s kid. She sees through it but with the kind of accuracy that is too specific. I stop walking and square up on her, feeling the same welling up of emotions I had with Mr. Demetri.

  She asks again, and a second time I deny her, this time with force in my voice. She points her finger at me, stepping to the side. “You and the cops are gonna catch the guy who messed up Mandel’s son, huh?” She looks away and chuckles then faces me saying, “How ya gonna do that, huh? Are you going to investigate?”

  “Don’t be simple. It’s a police matter,” I say with confidence.

  Ms. Margaret fires back, “A police matter, huh?” She walks around me, circling me like a mad hyena grinning at its prey.

  “If it’s a police matter, why are you going to ‘peruse’ Maddox yourself?” She stops and points at me, “Have you been deputized?”

  “Quit it. Were you eavesdropping on me?” I ask with such a heavy tone it could crush a mountain. Ms. Margaret laughs, continuing her orbital path around me.

  “Like a fly on the wall, Doctor. Like a spider in the corner.” Her facial muscles expand and fall wildly, joyously, like she is playing a game. I decide to walk away from her and the conversation, to fill my head with work and drown out this experience. But still, she continues to follow me, shadowing me, keeping up with me so well, it looks like I am the one chasing her.

  “So?” she says with her hands on her hips. The bag in her hand dr
oops at her side like a sad Santa’s bag.

  “So? So what? What do you want?”

  “What are you going to do about him?” Ms. Margaret points down the hall towards Maddox’s room. She walks backwards now, forcing me to see her face which has shifted from playful to stern. Other doctors and nurses coming down the hall don’t see until she is right in front of them. They shriek and pull their arms up to block themselves, sidestepping and hopping out of her way. She back steps with impunity down the hall. People shout, “Hey!” and “Watch it!” until they realize it’s Ms. Margaret. Then they lower their heads and walk on like it never happened.

  I spew out a sigh like Ms. Margaret is crazy. She puts her hand up, palm out, stopping us both in the cold chemical hallway. Her eyes are set on me with such conviction. I ask her what she wants, like I haven’t been paying attention, and make it a point to roll my eyes and tap my foot.

  Ms. Margaret plainly asks, “How are you going to do this?”

  “Do what?” I say as I throw out my arms.

  “You can’t just roll in there and grope his ass expecting to find anything out.”

  “Well, I hadn’t planned on doing that so…” I walk around Ms. Margaret. She pulls my shoulder and spins me around to face her. I pivot quickly under her surprising strength.

  “Maybe you can get what you want without plotting against him.” She says this as I roll my eyes at her words. She talks like she’s got it all figured out. She steps closer to me unfaltering. Her presence shifts. Even her attitude takes a noticeable change and her eyes no longer seem to scorch or entrap; rather, they welcome. Like a saxophone’s haunting notes being played in the cool night air in the middle of the city, her eyes guide me, lift me, and lead me.

  She talks now with a smooth and controlled voice, owning every word as she says, “Just talk.”

  “Talk?” I say under her spell, under her fiercely enchanting eyes.

  “Ask him about his fight. You don’t have to trick that man. He will tell you anything.”

  “I tried asking. Maddox didn’t want to—”

  “No, ask again. Don’t leave until he tells you.”

  I snap out of my trance and immediately question her simple tactic. “Why do you think this will work? How can you possible know that he will say anything?” I feel a rhythm coming along in my logic and decide to test Ms. Margaret and her tactic.

  “You eavesdrop on a conversation and all of a sudden you have the right to give me advice, as if you could speak on the issue with any authority? I know you see everyone else around here as somehow inferior, but in case you haven’t noticed, there are professionals working on this problem.”

  “One of which is you,” she retorts. Her speed hit me like a bullet and completely knocked me off my train of thought.

  “Doctor … can I call you Doctor?” she says mockingly. “Listen, Doctor, in case you haven’t noticed, this isn’t an issue you fully understand.” She builds up her momentum so fast and with such little effort. She stresses her words with expert emphasis like she is a master musician pushing her instrument to its limits.

  “If you go into that room with some bullshit motive, he will see right through it. I’m telling you, just talk to him. Just ask him. I promise, you will get further with my way than some half-assed strip search; however, after seeing his body, I wouldn’t mind doing that myself.”

  Her tone melts over me and rapidly cools. I am ready to cave, but pride has its reservations as pride does. I sigh, I roll my eyes, put my hands on my hips and exhaust all of my social cues as pride is pushed out of me. I lose all the words to say, “You are right,” so I nod at her. She leaves me in the hallway, walking away as if she was just another patient. She takes no glory in her triumph and displays no quality beholden to those who revel in the demise of others.

  Ms. Margaret simply states her point. There is something in her walk like the sway of trees in a breeze. Only I can’t figure if Ms. Margaret is the breeze or the leaves. Who am I to her? And why does she feel so strongly about this? Perhaps in her mind, it’s just fun; just another form of entertainment like talking with Mr. Demetri, or digging for cans. Maybe she’s messing with me, maybe not. Maybe she wants Maddox to be as innocent as I want him to be.

  I decide there is no point in trying to figure her out; Ms. Margaret is something like a mystery and I am comfortable with that. Some people just aren’t meant to be understood and she is a terrifying example of exclusivity. She exists in the turbid area of people’s judgment where you may cut her down in the privacy of friends but once you stand before her in the grasp of her gaze, she owns the conversation. She sees things without prejudice; her horizon is wide and free.

  Her words dance in my head all day and while I work, her voice attaches itself to the words and the two swirl and dip in my head. I ask Eleanora for guidance. She tells me Ms. Margaret has a good point. That Ms. Margaret, despite herself, has a valid argument, one which is rooted in mutual trust and dignity. To do it my way would mean to control the situation as I have done with everything else and in light of the cell phone, the thumb ring situation, and the night with my sister, I am inclined to side with Ms. Margaret, too.

  But to do it Ms. Margaret’s way means talking to Maddox, which puts me in a bad situation with Mandel. Though I don’t completely admire Mandel, there is some slack to be granted. Any other time, I would be ecstatic about talking to Maddox, but now I feel like there is this responsibility hanging over my head. The whole thing is playing with my head. I sit at a desk and study case files and fill out paperwork and send texts to my mom while these thoughts squeal and shout like children in the backseat of a car.

  And finally, when the day is over and I am being lifted into sleep, the thoughts come roaring up beside me. They latch on to me, pulling me down, making my thoughts as laundry in a dryer: tossing on themselves, rolling about, moving but never getting anywhere.

  Chapter 13

  Lately, sleep has been a commodity. It is like trying to see the curve of the earth in the sky. I can spend all day staring up at the sky, seeing nothing, and then in a brief moment I’ll see what appears to be an arch, but I lose it and am forced to start all over. This is much the same way my sleeping habits have been. I’ll focus all my energy on trying to sleep and sometimes feel drowsy, but then I lose it and return to being fully awake.

  And to add to that jumble of thoughts, I have thoughts of my mother and sister that keep me from sleep also. I wonder what they are doing, how they are, if they are happy. I think about my old dog and this month’s rent. I think about people’s birthdays and how I will probably never go to Europe. I think of ads I hear on TV and the radio. And Maddox, always Maddox.

  I think about what he would look like naked, if he is good at sex. If he is a vicious drunk who assaulted my boss’s son. Maddox keeps me up now more than any other thought. I remember what it was be like to be with him, so close that I could feel his breath on my neck. I remember standing next to his bed, holding his hand and telling him to squeeze it for me as I checked his reflexes. Instead of noticing the factual information that I was supposed to be collecting, all I remember thinking about was how strong his hand felt, how magnificent it would feel, that hand running the length of my leg up to my thighs.

  Lying in my bed, I close my eyes and drift into a fantasy. His touch is light like a tickle, not so hard that he pokes and prods but he feels me in the dark of my room. His fingers trace my hips down to my thighs and he rubs me with pin-point pressure.

  He spreads my legs open and I can feel his warm breath between them. His thick, wet tongue slides up and down, swirling in a precise liquid flow. It is tense and then soft, following a rhythmic movement that sends pulses of heat and euphoria throughout my body.

  I slide the covers down my body and slip my hand under my panties to rub myself. I imagine grabbing his shoulders, his arms his ass, running my fingers over his chest and down his abs to grab him and stroke him. I guide him into me. I rub harder and faster, my l
egs bent up on the bed. He thrusts slowly at first, letting me feel every thick, hard inch of him.

  I sigh and moan, grabbing the sheets with my free hand and curling them into my face. He grabs my hair at the back of my head and begins to move faster, swinging his hips into me with the same fluid motion his tongue had. His forehead is set gently on mine as he sighs and breathes out the pleasure. I turn him over, throwing him on his back, and mount him. He throws his head back against the pillow as I move my hips back and forth. He calls my name and I rub harder. I put my hand around his neck as I swing my hips back and forth. My fingers tighten against his sinewy neck. His muscles tighten under my grip, but with each thrust of my hips, his tension eases.

  I feel my body tighten, surging with heat and ecstasy. I rub faster, feeling the wetness on my fingers. He grabs my hips, moving me into him with added force. I watch his muscular arms as they bring me into him then send me out in rhythm.