by L. Duarte
I enter the room where the canvas Will painted of me under the stars is displayed in the room’s center. The beautiful sound of Yo-Yo Ma playing the Cello Suites of Bach purrs from hidden speakers. I glance at the illustration and longing grips my heart. I make a mental note to purchase it before I leave, but a small note reads, “On reserve.” Wondering what it means, I spot Lucas, Maritza, and Dan as they steer in my direction.
“Portia!” Maritza embraces me.
“Hey beautiful.” Lucas says.
“Hi, it’s so good to see a familiar face,” I say as Lucas kisses my cheek.
“Likewise, we don’t know many people here.” Maritza grins. “We haven’t seen you in a while,” She complains affectionately.
“Well,” Dan says hugging me, “I am sure Portia has been busy with her travels.” I sense he knows about my disagreement with Will, but Maritza doesn’t.
“That’s right. I just got back in town.” I scan the room, but Will is nowhere.
“Whoa, I had forgotten how fancy the bathroom is,” Mel says as she approaches.
When she recognizes me, she adds, “Hi, I didn’t think you would be here. Is Damon with you?” She gives me a look as if I am wearing a jacket made from the fur of her pet rabbit.
“No, flying solo tonight.” I sip from the champagne.
“Mel, darling, how are you feeling? Tell me when you are ready to leave. Will knows we will leave early.” Dan saves the day again.
“I am fine, Dad.” A smile crosses her face as she rubs her enlarged tummy. Then, she turns to me, “Have you met Pamela?”
“Yeah, I did,” I reply.
“She dated Will in college,” Mel says.
“Oh.” I sip again from my champagne.
“They were crazy about each other, but she dumped him and broke his heart.” Mel retrieves a glass of water from a waiter. “I wonder if they are finally working things out.” She drinks from the glass.
Too stunned to reply, I force a feeble smile onto my lips.
“Portia, Will told me this is a portrait of you. Is that so?” Redirecting the subject, a somewhat confused Maritza shoots a warning smile at Mel.
“Yeah, he mentioned something like that.” A wistful smile crosses my face.
“It is pure, and hopeful.” Maritza smiles and puts her hands over mine. “That’s what I see when I look at the two of you.”
Tears burn the back of my eyes. I close my eyes and pretend Will is next to me with his lopsided smile. It works. Well, he appears next to me, but he is smiling at his family, purposefully excluding me. When did I become a masochist? Being here is undiluted agony. Uh-oh, the tears threaten me again.
“Hey, how you are feeling?” he asks Mel.
“OK, but we will leave in a few, my back is aching,” Mel answers.
“Thanks for coming; it means a lot to me.” He pats her stomach and kisses her cheek.
“I will be home tomorrow.” He grins at his family. All the while, he ignores me. He turns to leave. This might be my only chance.
“Will—” I begin, but Pamela appears out of thin air and tugs his hand.
“Will, there is someone I want you to meet.” She shoots me a menacing look and whisks him away.
My strength is dwindling by the minute. So, before I start crying, I say a brief good-bye to Will’s family and leave them using the excuse of looking for my father. A waiter passes with a tray of champagne. I return my empty glass, and I snatch two flutes. I drink one in a gulp, and place the empty glass next to a statue of a…whatever that is. Did I mention my distaste for abstract art? I simply don’t get it.
Staggering through the pompous gallery, I observe Will’s magnificent artwork and I muse about what could have been. I deeply wish to go back in time. Regret ripples through my body and drenches my soul. I finish the flute of champagne. And gather another two flutes.
With a pain in my chest, my eyes roam, until I find Will and Pamela. My heart falters at their intimacy. His fingers brush over his disheveled hair, he leans toward her, and then whispers in her ear. Pamela chuckles and her tits seem to peer out of her low-cut dress. I hate this woman. Never taking notice of me, they spin to leave the room. His hand is on her ass. OK, I might be exaggerating. It is on the small of her back. The reality is I am a bit jealous. All right, I am dying of jealousy here. In addition, I am hurt. Regardless of what I did, Will should at least talk to me. I return the set of empty glasses, fetch another one, and toss it down. For the life of me, I can’t explain why I haven’t gone home yet.
Eventually, one needs to surrender or at least retreat. Defeated, I step back, square my shoulders, and tread along a narrow hall in search of my father. It is time I leave.
I hear laughter coming from an adjoining room. My eyes flash in the direction from where the sound originated. In disbelief, I watch Will embrace Pamela. She looks up at his handsome face, and kisses him.
For a full second, my heart comes to a halt and I feel like I’m falling into the pit of hell. Scanning my brain, I cannot remember of anything hurting me as much. Agony and pain grip my heart and squeeze it unmercifully. I cease to breathe. My eyes blink and fight against unbidden tears threatening to surface.
As if sensing my presence, Will glances my way and our eyes meet. For a second, I think I see regret in his eyes. My fingers tighten around my clutch. Struggling to hold back the tears, I spin on my heels and march away, willing myself to become invisible.
Relief rushes through me when I spot a bathroom. I yank the door with unnecessary force and sprint inside. Before I shut the door closed, Will wedges his shoulder in the door, and forces his way into the room. He latches the bolt, and silently stares at me.
I won’t cry. I repeat the mantra. But tears cloud my vision.
Will stands inches from me, his body exuding sensuality. His stare captures mine and, mesmerized, I see the fire in them. An incredible tension pulses between us. Then, like a predator, Will growls and charges toward me. I step back, focusing on holding back my tears. I feel the cold stone against my back. Will cages me with his hard body, pinning me against the wall. Will fists my hair, and our lips collide. His kiss is hungry and passionate. I gasp, gripping his shoulders and pulling him to me.
My core tightens, my head swims on an ocean of passion, desire and need. His hand trails down my waist, along my legs. He cups behind my knee, pulling my leg over his hip, and rocks against my abdomen. I moan, gasping for air. Will devours my breath, his ravaging tongue thrusts inside my mouth.
I wrap my other leg, around him. Will growls, rubbing his erection on a sensitive area. I arch my back, intensifying the contact. We are a violent explosion of kisses, touches, and moans.
All my senses are overwhelmed, and subdued to his domineering and insanely hot body. The ragged sound of his breathing makes me wild. His hunger engulfs my body. I slide my hand inside his suit, under his shirt. A thin layer of sweat covers his feverish skin. My nails dig into his muscular back. Desperation moves through me, I can’t let go of Will—not now, not ever.
He tears his lips from my mouth and descends, kissing, suckling, along my jaw, my neck, and setting my skin on fire. Will’s teeth sink into my bare shoulders. He pulls away, looking into my eyes.
“Why?” he growls. “Why did you come back?” He presses his forehead on mine, shoots his eyes closed, and sighs. With my hands planted on his chest, we wait for our breathing to steady. Silent tears escape my eyes, drenching my face.
Opening his eyes, he frowns, “You’re crying. Did I hurt you?” Will gently pulls my legs from his hips. My knees buckle and he steadies me, pulling me to him.
“I love you,” I say.
“God, woman,” Will croaks and his lips seek mine. But this time, his tongue, slides unhurriedly across my lips, stroking so lightly, it is painful. He tugs my lower lip gently.
“Will, please, please forgive me. I love you, like I never thought it was possible to love anyone. I can’t go on without you. Please, please—” I choke o
n my words. “I didn’t sleep with Damon, I did not. I swear,” I continue my desperate plea.
Will’s gaze is penetrating. His hands, possessively grasp my hips.
“I missed your taste. I craved your smell, every damn minute we spent apart,” he whispers against my lips. “I went crazy wondering who was touching you.” His hand cups my face. His voice is wounded and his clouded eyes pained.
“There is no one else, Will,” I sob. “Please, take me back. Without you, I am withering—my body, mind, and soul.”
For what seems like an eternity, Will is painfully silent. But a spark appears in his green gaze. Hope slowly runs through me. And I see the moment he succumbs to my distraught appeal. His eyes emanate the vivacious passion that has gotten me addicted.
“I don’t have an option, Portia.” Will's thumbs wipe my cheeks. “The day I first saw you, was the day I lost my heart. My life belongs to you. I breathe in hope of seeing your face. My heart beats in hope of touching your skin. I am yours. And I can’t help that. My whole being anticipates your presence. Without you, I am lost and without direction, like a broken compass. You are the reason I want to open my eyes every day.”
My hands grasp his hair, drawing him to me. I kiss him with the desperate need that has accumulated over the last few days. Overwhelming tears of relief flood my face. With the world seemingly far away, we stay fused to each other, until an impatient knock at the door forces us to separate.
“You need to go back,” I say.
“Will you come with me?” Will kisses me again, ignoring the second knock.
“I’m not letting go of you, Will,” I sigh, turning to face the mirror. My fingers run through my tousled hair.
“Good, cause I wasn’t planning on allowing you to.” Will stands behind me, sets his hand on my hips, and watches me through the mirror. I scowl at the sight of my puffy eyes, slide a damp tissue under my smudged eyeliner, and reapply some lipstick.
“Will, you and Pamela, and um, the kiss—” I start, but Will interrupts me, spinning me to face him.
“Baby, the kiss didn’t mean anything. We were celebrating and, for a moment, Pam confused today with the past. I am sorry.” He tucks my hair behind my ear. His eyes remain serious. “Were you jealous?” Will’s lips curve into a slight smile.
“Yeah, more than when you saw me with Damon.”
“Now, that’s debatable,” he growls, but I can see he is amused.
The third knock interrupts our intimate moment.
“Ready?” His long fingers wrap around my hand and it is so familiar. I swoon and that also is so familiar.
“I’m ready.” I can feel my heart beating in harmony again. Before he opens the door, I tug him to me and kiss him hard. “I missed you like crazy.”
“Woman, you are the one to drive me mad.” His lips curve into a smile, doing unfathomed things to me.
Earlier tonight, when I first saw Portia strolling my way, I feared I was going to crack. Her heady presence blinds me to all surroundings. But at the moment I heard those three words flowing out of her lips, my world crashed. I am now certain of what I already knew, but was afraid to admit. I am helplessly at her mercy.
Holding Portia in my arms is the closest to what I think heaven will be like. Though I can’t bring myself to tell her I love her with all my soul, I think she gets the picture.
In the few minutes we were in the bathroom, I had a flashback of my life. To me, there is only one explanation. God is making up to me for all that came before Portia. Not that He has to, but because He probably wants to. Maybe all the loneliness and disappointments I suffered as a child were only to get me to this moment. I don’t know. But I know that I have found my soul mate. We are two bodies, but our souls are connected in such a powerful way that we are inseparable.
I unlatch the bathroom lock and swing the door open. Pam stares impassively at the two of us. Her eyes fly to our intertwined fingers. For a moment, I think I see disappointment cross her face. But Pam has always been composed. She smiles at us.
“Will, there are guests who want to speak with you.” She reaches for me.
“Sure, let’s do it.” My fingers tighten around Portia’s hand.
“With all respect to Portia, I think she will be a distraction to the guests, taking the focus away from you, Will.” Pam rocks back on her heels.
“She’s staying at my side, Pam,” my voice is gentle, but stern.
“Well, that’s not wise, but it is your exhibition.” She flashes a blank smile.
We follow Pam through the gallery full of the guests. For the remainder of the evening, I have Portia glued to me. As Pam had anticipated, Portia is somewhat a distraction, especially to me. My hand holds hers for the remainder of the night. I notice Portia has stopped drinking. Before we made up in the bathroom, she drank six flutes of champagne. Yes, I was keeping tabs.
The exhibition has started to dwindle. Before leaving, many of the guests relay to me their disappointment at not acquiring any of my paintings. I receive an astronomical offer for Portia’s childhood portrait, but of course, I decline. I can never part with that piece.
Portia hauls me to a corner and kisses me, until we are both breathless.
“There are photographers here y’know?” I whisper against her hungry lips.
“Are you ashamed to be photographed with me Will?” she teases, but I catch a glimpse of vulnerability in her eyes.
“Baby, for one thing, I am the happiest man on the universe to get to kiss your lips.”
I glance around and see that most of the guests are gone. A flash blinds me, but Pam dismisses the photographer who had lingered, thanking him for coming. Pam is perceptive when dealing with the media.
Although I have been honest with Pam regarding my feelings for Portia, I can’t help but to feel shitty for her. In all honesty, I think she had hoped to reconcile with me.
“Well, the night was a success.” Pam approaches us with her parents.
“Will, I am sure you are anxious to leave with your adorable companion, but we need to celebrate,” Garry Lee says and signals to a waiter. Handing us flutes of champagne, he tells me. “We need to start planning your next exhibition.”
“Nah, I am taking some time off.” I glance at Portia.
“When do you start your graduate studies, I hear you are going to Yale.” Alyson inquires and her pale blue eyes, which Pam has inherited, sparkle at me.
“January,” I answer.
“To you Will, and to your extraordinary ability to paint this world and to make it a prettier place,” Garry says and raises his glass.
“Cheers.” I hear the clink of the glasses. I sip from the champagne, and return the glass to the waiter, Portia follows suit.
“Thank you for everything, Pam, you were wonderful.” I hug her.
“You are welcome. It was my pleasure.”
“Nice meeting you.” I hear Portia say.
Anxious to leave, we bid good-bye to the Lees.
At the door, I retrieve Portia’s jacket and drape it over her shoulders. Outside, I notice a group of photographers waiting for us. Unbelievable, didn’t they snap enough pictures of us for the night?
A cab that Pam called waits for us. I open the door, and Portia slides in. I sit next to her and give her address to the driver. I sense Portia stiffen beside me. I glance at her and identify a pained expression crossing her face. I remain quiet. I don’t want the driver overhearing our conversation. Instead, I lean down and nibble on her luscious lips.
“God, I missed your lips.” I suck on her lower lip. She responds to me, and her warmth arouses me. We are lost in kissing each other, when the cab driver clears his throat. I pay the fare, and help her from the cab.
We enter the building in silence. Once in the elevator I ask her, “Do you want to go to Connecticut with me tomorrow?” She punches the key to her floor, and steps into a corner of the elevator, away from me.
“Why are you not taking me home with you tonight?”
Her eyes are a shade of desperate.
With one long step, I close the space separating us and my hands cup her face. “Oh, baby, because I can’t lie next to you tonight, and not make you mine.” I kiss her. Again, when I surface from her intoxicating lips, her eyes glint with renewed passion. Damn, I am hard as fuck.
We step out of the elevator, into the foyer. My arms wrap around her tiny waist. I need to readjust to being with her.
“What time you are picking me up?” She grins up at me.
“Is six too early?” I ask, hopeful.
“Not early enough,” she says.
My hands draw her soft body against mine. Sensing my arousal, she trembles inside my embrace. I lean down and my mouth captures hers. My tongue enters her parted lips and meets her tongue for an erotic dance. I moan as she thrusts her hips against my erection, teasing me with her curves.
“Mmmm, I need to go; you are just too tempting tonight.” I pull back, and press for the elevator.
“If you must,” Portia sighs, when the ping of the elevator announces its arrival.
“Here. At. Six.” I moan in between kisses, stepping back, into the open elevator. I look at her beautiful, blue eyes one last time before the door closes. God, I am deeply in love with this woman.
Me: Are u up yet? Anxiously waiting. I’m here.
Portia: Damn slow elevator.
Me: Wow, baby. R u ready?
Portia: On my way.
My heart skips a beat. It is quarter to six. To no surprise, I am early. I barely slept. The excitement from the successful exhibit and the anticipation of being with Portia kept me up most of the night.
I glance up from my phone, to see as Portia gingerly step across the deserted road. I hop out of the Jeep, opening my arms as she strides, with a lovely grin, into my embrace. I inhale deeply, savoring the familiar scent of gardenia in her hair.
“Hey, gorgeous.” She gazes up, and I kiss her lips.
“God, Will, you can’t do this to me,” she says.
“What’s wrong, baby?” My thumbs skim her jaw. Her big eyes are uncommonly serious.