The door sounds with a couple of knocks and half a body pokes through the frame.
“Anne Foster, may I?”
Oh mother, like Clark Gable. Yes, I'm your Scarlet... Throw me on the desk.
He enters without waiting for a response. Of course, just like a perfect bad boy.
“Mary is not...” Why did I say that? I'm a damn idiot!
“I don’t know who Mary is.” He pleasantly said but his lips didn’t reflect any smile.
“Mary is my secretary. I thought you were looking for her.”
He enters and closes the door. Mother, what do I do? Do I remain seated? Do I get up? Do I miss him? Do I throw myself on him? Do I kiss him? Do I rip off his clothes? I breathe Inhale Exhale... That's it. Inhale Exhale... Fuck! He’s gorgeous.
“I don’t want her.”
“Oh no?” My voice sounds like a squeak?
What a painter! Tomorrow I’ll ask for a budget to redecorate my apartment. Three colors and a triple layer to have him delay a few more days.
“If you need information about the decoration in the office I can’t help you. Mr. Blackman hasn’t gotten on board and with the bad mood he has, I prefer not to get involved. I have too many problems of my own that I don’t need to add new ones.”
I play dumb and ignore the fact that we know each other from the Temple of the Passions. If he doesn’t remind me, I won’t either.
“Bad character?”
“Horrible. He's a cantankerous old man, cold and insensitive. The only thing that matters is money. The relics are simply a means to satiate his cravings for power and fame, a despicable human being.”
More serious than normal or am I assuming that? Is he a relative? I don’t think so, that old man is so stuck up that he wouldn’t have his nephew painting walls.
The man-made God sits in front of me without asking permission. Wasn’t he leaving? I’m getting nervous. His magnetism is terribly powerful and he has the power to make my knees tremble, too.
“You don’t know him?”
“I'm not interested in knowing him. He's the kind of man I wouldn’t exchange a greeting with.”
Can I know why you're not leaving? If you’re in front of me, I can’t stop thinking about scattered sheets, clothes on the floor and you grinding, in the top ten position of the Kama Sutra, according to womeninpower.com.
“Will you work with him.” Who were we talking about? Yes, old Blackman.
“Just what’s necessary.”
“Is he an archaeologist like you?”
“No, but that's not important.” And now I have to explain my reasons to a stranger who does not remember that last night he placed himself on my ass. In what mess I’ve gotten into. “That man and I just don’t fit. One more rich guy and I will never be compatible... Anyway, I don’t want to bore you, as I said, Mary isn’t here but you can see her tomorrow.”
“And as I told you, I'm not here for her.”
And there he goes again, and I'm blushing. Wait, he’s calm, he's quiet. He;s observing me with patience and damn, he dominates the conversation, the environment and me.
“You have to have dinner. I’ll take you where ever you want.”
What? I'm missing something. He's handsome but a little bossy, isn’t he? I don’t know you, you don’t remember me, I don’t know your name, and you order me to have dinner? Excuse me! As seductive, attractive and with those delicious eyes that you have, I don’t think I’ll fall at your feet. Umm handsome, that strategy might be worth to others but not for me. I’m not the one from the past; I’m a woman with control of her instincts and a lot of honor.
“You're right. It is late for which I’m leaving to my house in my car.”
I get up and put my laptop in my briefcase but he doesn’t move from his chair. Do you expect me to apologize? Well, stay there and continue siting there until tomorrow.
“I'm leaving, is there anything else you need?” Let's see if he gets the hint.
He gets up slowly as if time is not with him. Damn it but even his movements are sensual.
“Reed,” he said when he stretched out his hand. “In case you don’t remember.”
God! He remembers. Now I don’t know what’s worse, if I pretend to be two strangers or remember that the Lord of Olympus, rubbed, caressed me and then left me with a kiss on the forehead. On my forehead!
I accept his hand without saying a word, but when he held my hand in his, he held it tight, and pulled me, leaving me completely stuck to his chest. His hard body gives me warmth that envelops me and melts me. I breathe agitated but I'm not the only one. He does too.
“Two kisses preferably,” he answers with a hoarse voice.
“If you say so...” His lips barely touch my skin but my body trembles electrified. What a wonderful feeling and so different this is something so new that it can’t be real.
“Talk tomorrow.” He affirmed and left.
Anne returns to earth! Inhale... Exhale... Inhale... Exhale...
Talk tomorrow? What did he mean? Will he come to the office tomorrow? Does he want to see me tomorrow? Is it a simple phrase? What will I wear?
I think I should run home, prepare a bath with cold water and lower my body temperature by a few degrees.
I wait a few minutes quietly in my office because if I find him in the elevator I won’t be responsible for my actions, I'm sure I assure myself and whatever God wants will be. I think first I would tear off his clothes, then kiss him with soft bites, then place him in the position of the visitor, Kama Sutra top ten womeninpower.com and then he... He’ll denounce me as a stalker. Anne wake up!
I laugh again about my great inner erotic world and pick up my briefcase.
My watch says that enough time has passed to flee. It's time to go home, prepare that bathtub and forget about erotic dreams in elevators. I close the office while I walk amused.
I have not laughed at myself for so long that I can’t even remember how to. Let's say that without any kind of fun lately, I'm afraid that I'll have to change that little mishap or I'll get cobwebs. I smile and make my way home, that solitary refuge where the last man who entered was Andrew the plumber, the one who when he bent down to reinforce the pipes, you could see the hairy slit in his ass. How awful! There are men to whom it is better not to remember them.
One more day
I’m a stunned grouchy person piling clothes in boxes. I hate packing but my new apartment in the Stonebridge neighborhood awaits me. My past, my tears and my muffled cries will be hidden in the bricks of this house and I will not return for them.
For the first time in a long time I have hope. I can’t say that I’ve changed because it’s not true, but I try hard and they say that is the important thing. Tragedy has taught me to be cautious and John taught me to suffer, the rest of my fears I can assign them as my own harvest... I am fully aware that my new life will not be a path of sunshine but I was trapped in a dark pit and I escaped and I won’t fall in again. The kiss of the unfortunate death, which, for the first time and without precedents, acted in my favor, offered me a second opportunity, which I intend to grasp.
I place the last sweater inside the cardboard box when the living room door opens and closes delicately. I don’t need to look up to recognize her steps.
“I thought you weren’t coming.”
“And leave you alone with the move? Of course not.”
“Jane, did I tell you that you are my favorite sister?”
“You skunk! I’m your only sister. Are you almost finished?
“Almost. Everything is almost there.”
“I didn’t mean that.”
Of course not, Jane always throws someone for a loop, there’s a reason she’s the older sister. She never knew about my misfortunes and I don’t intend to involve her now. She has plenty with her own stuff.
It’s better than what it looks like. I’ll live closer to work and I’ll change my view. I'll be a crazy girl in the city!
“Anne, you will
not start again with how old you are and similar nonsense.”
“Now that you remind me, do you know Mary's latest gossip?”
“From her I expect anything.”
Jane frowns. She hates my secretary and does nothing to disguise it. I continue closing the box without paying much attention.
“It seems that, in the museum, I am classified as a MILF.”
“Milk?”
I laugh with desire. It’s clear that Jane is not out of the current wave, but outside of the galaxy.
“You're such a dummy! Milk is milk and they call me MILF. Mom I'd Like to Fuck.”
“Ah...”
“Don’t you have a damn idea what I'm talking about?”
“Not at all,” she said smiling and folding clothes next to me.
“MILF means (mom I’d like to fuck you.)”
“Anne Foster, what a bitch! You can’t allow it. You’re not a cheap slut.”
“Jane,” I sigh tiredly, “it's not an insult.”
“It doesn’t matter! Surely that little girl said it to bother you. She dies of envy. She wants to be like you but she doesn’t even reach your boot heels.”
Jane gave off so much anger that the poor cardboard box almost closed itself.
“And you're not a mother.” She grumbled more and more annoyed.
“No. I'm not...” something to thank my black destiny.
“You have to fire her. She’s an impertinent one and she’ll bring you problems.”
“She does her job very well.”
“She's a damn envious bitch!”
“I think she called me MILF as a compliment. I hope so.”
I’d better shut up about her constant hints about her wonderful twenty years of youth in front of my thirty-something senior years.
“Help me to seal this last box and I'll buy you a coffee.”
“Perfect, but a fast one. Adam hates coming home and I'm not there.”
Of course we don’t want to upset the good Adam.”
“He loves me...”
Damn my sister and her telepathic power.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“But you thought about it.”
“You’re happy, I’m happy. Final point. We’re already finished. We can go to Starbucks that’s at the end of the street, I feel like having a nice piece of apple pie with cinnamon.”
“By God Anne! Where do you put it? You don’t have a gram of fat.”
“That’s the magic of sports. One day you should try it with me.”
“No thanks, with my yoga classes I have enough.” She happily said.
I lean on my sister's arm enjoying her company. We’re the opposite to each other that sometimes I doubt our genes. I look at her and I can’t help but admire the reddishness of her hair, hers is even brighter and more golden than mine. The crystalline green of our eyes is identical and the sadness that is kept in them, I fear that also is identical. Jane is beautiful, we are sisters and I will never be able to thank our parents enough for bringing her into my life.”
“Thank you.”
I didn’t need any more explanations. Jane's telepathic power worked perfectly. She is my sister and I adore her.
“By the way, has the famous Blackman arrived?”
“No. According to Bruce, he’ll arrive next week.”
“That man doesn’t have any sense.”
“I can’t stand him but I trust Bruce's good judgment.”
“Bruce has been your mentor and your guide. He has always been very good to you, I don’t see why you wouldn’t trust him.”
“That’s just the way it is.”
“And nothing new? Gossip, rumors, men in general...”
My dear sister and her continuous dreams of men who come into your life and make you fall in love with their eyes.
“You are a hopeless romantic.”
“I can’t help it.”
The poor woman wants me to fulfill the dreams that escaped her. We both got married because it was just what was expected of us. Neither Jane nor I have ever felt any tingling in our stomachs, no heartbeats or silly smiles that rob us of sleep. Love or its lack of it, is not a topic that we usually talk about and I won’t be responsible for resurging wounds that hurt. Jane survives in her marriage and it’s not necessary to be an expert in matrimonial psychology to see what is going on there. I won’t interfere in her decisions, but when the time comes and she needs me, I’ll simply be there.
Loneliness taught me that we all make mistakes. Some of us look for a blanket that shelters us, and it could be said that we have even found it, but then we discover that our security blanket has become a slab that suffocates you without being able to escape.
“I'll tell you some nonsense, it’ll seem fun, but it's just that, silly. Don’t get any illusions,” Jane claps her hands. “You're deluding yourself! I’m not going to tell you anything anymore.”
“Don’t be silly. Tell me!”
I smile to see her wait for a story of princes and princesses.
“I've met an interesting man but...”
“No!” She shouted excitedly, “and why you haven’t you told me before!”
“It was in the part of the but...”
Jane nods nervously. The poor girl waits for slow music and red petals falling from the sky.
“We met at the museum but I don’t think we'll see each other again.”
I think I’ll avoid the visit to the Temple of the Passions and the ass groping, that part for Jane is a triple X category.
“What happened?” She said expectantly.
“He opened the door to my office and I looked at him with astonishment... I found his burning blue eyes, hunk of a body,” my sister opens her eyes enthusiastically, “he looked at me, he approached me, he pressed his body to mine, he stretched his strong arms, he sheltered me against his chest and threw me to the sofa while he ripped off his shirt.”
“You’re an idiot...”
“And you dummy. What did you think was going to happen? We just exchanged a few words. I found him interesting and terribly handsome but nothing more.”
“Interesting... Terribly handsome... That's something I haven’t heard from your mouth for years. Keep going...”
“Jane, stop making mental pictures. There were only a few words. He was charming.”
“But there is something else. I can tell.” I sigh, annoyed but deep down I want to tell her.
“You see, I don’t know how to explain it. His words, the way he spoke to me, it’s as if he knew me, as if with his eyes he could read my interior. He’s fantastic and I can’t deny that he’s delectable, but there is something beyond the physical. He calls me, he attracts me, something unites us, I...”
“You like him! And why do you say you won’t see him again? Was he a visitor?”
“No”
“And then what? You should investigate and find out which department he works in, then you drop by there as if nothing is going on and then you give a couple of discrete signals, you know, better not to look like a hustler and....”
“Are we going for that coffee?”
“Yes, but I refuse to change the subject. You should follow my advice...”
Jane continued talking in a hurry and my concentration escapes to another place.
Do I really want to see him again? Do I want to feel nervous, safe and terribly vulnerable? This is all new for me. My blood boils when I see him and that is something I can’t deny, nor can I deny that he is the type of man that has a danger sign stuck to his forehead. Those type of men you end up totally in love with and terribly damaged. I don’t seek to fall in love, I'm not ready to fall in love but how do I stop deluding myself!
It's me
“Anne, I’m out of here,” Mary said annoyed. “Those two men will never leave.”
“Two? I swear that most of the time I don’t understand anything of what you’re saying.”
The young woman laughs as she arranges her two charms
in the hyper-tight orange blouse.
“The handsome painter and a friend just as delicious, have been locked up for about an hour in that office.
“They’re probably putting the final touches. In a few days the old man will arrive and they won’t want to upset him.”
“Is he very old?”
“I'm not sure.”
“Go home. I'll leave in a few minutes. If I see something interesting, I'll tell you.”
“Done deal. Remember that you’re looking at my future husband.” She said winking mischievously.
I shake my head as I dive back into the keyboard. The situation of the museum is too critical to entertain me with fools. If I don’t manage to increase ticket sales, investors will leave in their luxurious sports cars and their bulging portfolios to better places. Without sufficient investors the experimental works are reduced to impossible dreams.
“Come on man! It won’t be so bad.”
“It will be worse...”
“It's your chance to have it in your hands. Are you thinking of giving up?”
“Never.”
Two low voices rumble in the corridor drawing my attention. One is serious and fun, the other cold and formal. I look up and there he is. An unconquerable god made to admire, Reed with his broad back, wearing simple blue jeans and a white polo shirt without any wrinkles.
Both men are magnificent. The two look alike in height, in the jet-black of their hair and in that they don’t belong to this planet. One of them is the epitome of happiness with living in this world, but the other man reflects the torment of not knowing why he lives. His blue pupils reflect the desolation in which an inaccessible and impenetrable owner lives.
They both turn to my office as if I were part of the conversation and... Shit! Caught at enjoying the view.
I smile, I play dumb and I duck my head. With a bit of luck I might even go unnoticed. Oh no! They are coming here. What do I do? What do I do! Fake it... Hide. Type like crazy.
Diana Scott - [Stonebridge 01] Page 3