by Kat T. Masen
I don’t finish the glass in front of me pushing it away along with my morbid thoughts as I walk back to the rooms desperate to erase my mind of her if only for tonight. The boys are still with the threesome. However, I wander off to a deserted room where the couple on the bed behind the glass window are fucking hard and fast.
The man takes his dick out slapping it against her stomach before entering again. The woman appears to enjoy it clutching the sides of the bed and exposing her tits for him to fondle. It makes me miss Zoey more, and perhaps my stupid thoughts are unwarranted. I simply want to go home and have her fuck me. Make her want me. Erase the miserable weeks that have passed and go back to the way it used to be between us.
A couple walks in and sits at the opposite corner. I avoid making eye contact until I hear my name being called.
“Drew?”
I turn around to see Raine staring back at me. Although the room is dark, she looks embarrassed, narrowing her gaze and avoiding direct eye contact.
“Oh, hey.”
Fuck, if this isn’t the worst place to run into a colleague.
She says something to the guy beside her—some dorky-looking fucker who’s wearing a tie. Why the fuck would you wear a tie to a sex club? He steps out of the room leaving us alone. Raine makes her way down the rows until she’s sitting beside me. She’s wearing a tight, white dress that sits very short exposing her thighs. I’ve never noticed her hot body until now, mainly because it’s always hidden behind scrubs.
I also never noticed how her tits are so full?
Perky?
Stop fucking looking.
“It’s not what it looks like,” I say, breaking the silence.
“It looks like you’re sitting in a sex club… alone.”
“Yes, but I’m here with some friends. Bachelor night.”
She scans the room, and I’m quick to add, “They abandoned me for the lesbian trio in room five.”
“Ah.” She giggles softly. “I was just at room five. Didn’t do anything for me, but probably where my date’s run off to.”
“Right. So that’s your date?”
“Uh huh. The fetish-list one.”
“I didn’t peg you for someone who hangs out in places like this.” I keep my words minimal, the alcohol not helping at all.
“Because I’m a mom?”
I nod, revealing the truth.
“I like sex, Drew. It gets my mind off work and my kids. Call me a freak, but it’s the only thing that calms the tension. Take, for example, today, that man dying. It was just too much.” She lowers her voice shifting her gaze to the couple in front who have now switched to doggy style. “That’s why I called Rick. I needed something wild to clear my head.”
I completely understand her point. It’s why I often bury myself in Zoey. She is my ray of warmth, my safety net. She’s the only one who makes me forget the world outside our apartment exists.
“Our job is stressful,” I mumble.
“You’re telling me.” She sighs. “I thought, why not give him another go? After I made a fool out of myself with you, I really have nothing else to lose.”
“You didn’t make a fool out of yourself,” I reassure her, keeping my hands firmly placed in my lap. “So, you’re into this stuff? Like you hang out on the other side of the glass?”
“Me? No. I like to watch but getting there on the table isn’t something I’d be comfortable with. I enjoy the intimacy with a man who will worship me in private.” She tilts her head sideways catching my gaze while a small smile plays on her lips. “And you? Isn’t the point of marriage staying in your own bedroom?”
“Maybe back in the day when I was single.” How life has fucking changed. “I wouldn’t want any man or woman to see Zoey the way I see her. No fucking way.”
Perhaps my vision is compromised, but I can see that Raine’s inching closer only to notice after my comment about Zoey, she slides back to her original position and changes the tone of her voice. “Lucky girl.”
“Yeah, you’d think.” I let out a sigh running my hands through my hair. Leaning my elbows on my knees, we watch the guy insert his dick into the woman’s ass. She moans loudly pushing back into him.
Fuck me.
Anal—my favorite.
“Wow, she’s really going for it.”
I laugh. “Can’t fake that.”
“Nope.”
There’s this awkward silence between us until Raine turns to face me slumping her shoulders as if to release the tension. “This is awkward.”
“You’re telling me.”
“We work together.”
“Yes, we do.”
“And we’re here watching this guy try to shove his cock and finger in her ass.”
“Yes, that’s what’s happening all right,” I say.
“So, since it can’t get any worse than this, I might as well say it.” She slides over closing the gap between us. “I’ve drunk a couple of margaritas back at the bar to psych myself up.”
“I’ve drunk their entire supply of scotch.” I place my hand on her arm, reassuring her. “Your secret is safe with me.”
She shakes her head, her piercing green eyes penetrating. “No, that’s not it. I like you, Drew. Really like you. You’re incredibly smart, and I’m in awe of your talent.” She takes a breath continuing as I remain quiet, unsure of what to say. “You’re compassionate, you’re dedicated, you have the biggest heart. Plus, you’re really hot. Like hot hot. The kinda hot you get from watching Magic Mike. Maybe more hot than that. I’m sorry, that’s probably made you uncomfortable.”
It’s been a while since I was in a situation like this. I don’t even recall much of my life before Zoey walked into it. So to hear this from an extremely gorgeous and talented woman boosts my ego. Flattery works like a treat under the influence of alcohol.
“I’m hot.” I laugh, unable to grasp anything else.
Raine buries her face in her hands. “Oh my God, I can’t believe I’ve just blurted that out. I’m not much of a talker when it comes to my emotions, but I can’t help it, Drew. You’ve just been so good to me.”
I pull her into me to calm her nervous energy. “Hey, you’re equally as talented. I see a lot of my younger self in you. And you’re a mom. You’ve set the benchmark high for many women.”
“Except Zoey.”
I have to choose my words carefully, but scotch doesn’t help my brain to compute. It makes it woozy and full of fucked-up thoughts.
“Zoey is… different.”
“Good different?”
“Different,” I say again.
“But you’re still marrying her?”
My foot taps nervously, unsettled and restless. I know I’m unable to answer the stream of questions being thrown at me, certain I’ll say something wrong. “It’s what’s in the cards, right?”
Raine snuggles into my side, resting her head against my chest while we stare at the couple finishing up in front. “What if the cards being dealt are wrong? That you’re just settling with what’s comfortable? You said yourself that Zoey couldn’t possibly understand how stressful your career is. Don’t you think you should be with someone who does understand?”
I go to open my mouth when Troy walks in alone. He sees me with my arm around Raine. His face tightens filled with annoyance. Peeling myself away from her, we sit quietly as I smile back at him.
“We’re heading back to the bar for a drink.” It’s a statement rather than a question of whether I want to join them.
“I think I’ll stay here. I’ve drunk too much.”
“I can see. I really think you should come.” Troy’s eyes widen unable to hide his displeasure in seeing me with another woman.
“Oh, shit. This is Raine, a colleague of mine.”
“Nice to meet you,” he says with a forced smile. “I think you should come.”
“I’m fine here.”
Troy continues to persuade me, then suggests we talk in private. Raine tells me sh
e’s heading back to room five and to join her when I’m done. I nod, then wait for her to leave the room, watching her ass sway while she walks away.
“What the fuck was that? You’re fucking someone else?” he shouts.
“Of course not. I’d never do that to Zoey.”
“Bullshit. I walk into you sitting with your arm around a hot girl at a sex club.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“What I think is that you’re getting cold feet and playing with fucking fire. Zoey will have your ass if she finds out—”
“That nothing happened!” I yell back fueled by the scotch. “Zoey doesn’t fucking care anymore. Her head is in this wedding. She’s not Zoey. She’s some sort of monster who’s morphed from the fun-loving Zoey. I’m only here, so she has someone nice to walk down the aisle with.
“C’mon,” he softens. “You don’t mean that.”
“She’s fucking that guy at work.”
“Who? Slater? Why would she be fucking someone at work and planning a wedding with you?”
“Because she’s not the real Zoey. I told you—”
“Man, wake up and get out of this funk. You’re fucking drunk for starters, and that girl… she just wants to suck your cock. Prove to you that you can stray.”
“It would be nice to have my cock sucked,” I utter, purposely as an attack on Zoey.
“Okay.” He grabs my arm, the pressure tight and unnecessary. “Time to go home.”
“I don’t wanna go home.”
“Then I can’t help you. Do whatever the fuck you want to do and lose the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”
Troy storms out of the room leaving me alone and staring at an empty bed through the glass window. I should have followed him, gone home and tried to work things out with Zoey. But instead, I find myself walking toward room five looking for a way—or person—to clear my head.
Someone to help me decide if marrying Zoey is the right thing to do.
Chapter Eight
Zoey
Things have been hazy since the night I left Slater’s place. I was hoping to have a clearer head when the alcohol wore off, but sadly, I didn’t even after I projectile-vomited into the gutter when Mia dropped me off at my apartment.
Drew never came home last night or this morning. Troy sent me a quick text to say he crashed at Isaac’s due to a massive hangover. I’m kind of relieved needing some time alone to process my thoughts.
I don’t allow my hangover to deter me, going for a morning jog and hitting the gym for an hour. By the time I get home, I’m feeling energized and decide to head out and finish up some last-minute wedding plans. There’s a place not too far away which specializes in wedding cars, and with lots of back-and-forth emails, I’ve managed to secure some customized VW wedding Beetles—Drew’s favorite car. Since his car, Betty, is extremely unreliable, I decide it’s best to leave her alone resting in his dad’s garage.
As the day progresses, I squeeze in another meeting with the venue to finalize the menu. I could have easily ordered something ordinary for our reception but decide to go for the fancier menu which consists of healthier options that I know Drew will approve. It ends up costing more, but I sign on the dotted line anyway. Then the event planner shows me the different china they use. My eyes immediately fell in love with the white and gold plates. Elegant and classy. And what does she tell me? They’re in the ‘A’ group which means the most expensive choice. After seeing those plates, the rest look like plastic from Costco.
I don’t know what comes over me, but I agree to use them on the day, ignoring the huge bill.
I’ve ticked everything off my list by late afternoon with still no text or call from Drew. I decide to bite the bullet and call him, but it goes straight to voicemail. Letting out a disappointed sigh, an early dinner by myself at a local diner seems fitting. Luckily, I’ve brought my laptop and work on the final sketches for Drew’s dad’s place. Even though he’s resisted the move countless times, I feel confident when he sees the final plans, he will fall in love with the house.
I haven’t touched his dad’s place keeping it simple and still in its original condition. I’ve simply extended the barn out back and designed it into a fully functional home. Given that Drew owns the land, we can easily build a beautiful home and still have plenty of space as the property sits on acres. I incorporate everything Drew loves—big windows and lots of light-filled rooms, a massive kitchen with a large island, and an eight-burner stove with a butler’s kitchen to the side. Outside, the landscaping is simple with a huge veggie patch where we can grow Drew’s favorite vegetables.
And to ease my worries, I cross-checked that the address is pizza-delivery friendly.
I’m hoping to show him the plans this week once we get our schedules back in sync.
The countdown has begun, and to shake the nagging feeling that something’s brewing on the horizon. I head back to the apartment, tired, and to find it empty with no Drew. He hasn’t left a note or sent a text, unusual that he hasn’t checked in at all.
I lay in bed that night trying to unwind by reading a book from my ever-growing list when I hear my work email ping. The last thing I want to do on a Sunday night is answer work emails, but the insomnia’s getting to me. I tap through my mailbox and see the email sent from Slater. There’s nothing in the subject line—unusual for him—so to feed my curiosity, I read the email he’s sent.
Did you think about what I said?
It’s one line. One that has so much impact. Of course, I have been thinking about it, it is the sole reason for my insomnia. My relationship with Drew is falling apart. I hate to admit that, but it is true. We just have to get through this, through the wedding. I know Drew complains about how crazy it all is, yet I know that once it’s over, he will look back and appreciate the day.
It’s just trying to get us both to the altar.
And I can no longer deny that Slater’s presence is impacting that goal. He said the words that have buried themselves in the back of my brain with the non-important stuff like algebra and politics. I read the email again knowing I can’t respond to him without a guilty conscience, so I keep my response precise and to the point.
About how the Thompson Twins aren’t actually twins?
I don’t know how Slater will react and would hate to think how Drew will if he knows that Slater’s emailing me late at night asking me if I’m still going to marry Drew because it seems like I’m settling rather than head-over-heels in love.
My email pings again and quickly with a nervous beat in my heart, I open the email and read it carefully.
Don’t do that, Zoey. Don’t make me want you even more.
His words sting like venom seeping through every crevice until the beating in my heart remains incredibly still—shocked—and then without warning, beats so fucking loud causing my skin to burn. I’m not sure if it’s flattery, attraction, or guilt that another man—a very handsome man—is emailing me at ten o’clock on a Sunday night telling me he wants me while my fiancé is at work.
I don’t respond. I don’t know how to.
Instead, I kept re-reading the email with an awful feeling in my gut which ends in no sleep.
***
“What’s wrong? You look like you’ve been beaten through the wringer. Let me guess.” Mia doesn’t allow me to speak popping a cookie into her mouth while raising her finger to silence me. “You fucked Drew all day yesterday. He got all macho on you after finding out about our encounter with the male dancers.”
I wish.
I arrived early hoping to confess to Mia what happened with Slater, a way to ease my guilty conscience. But the longer we stand inside the kitchen surrounded by other employees walking in and out, the more I think it’s not such a good idea. It may come across like I am admitting that I’m confused when in reality, I am confused.
Nail on the fucking head.
“You know what? Never mind.”
I move toward the coffe
e machine careful not to spill anything on my new white blouse. It was an impromptu purchase last week when I decided to spruce up my work wardrobe. Subconsciously, maybe I was sending the wrong signals to Slater. I found myself paying more attention to my appearance at work. Even Drew had made a snide comment which I’d brushed off. This blouse was fancy, and according to the sales assistant at the boutique, ‘sexy’ too.
“Nice top. You know it’s see-through, right?”
“No, it’s not.” I press my lips into a thin line thinking of a way to sidestep the fact that I know it’s see-through when I really didn’t. “And anyway, I’m wearing a white bra.”
“You look really good today, very hot. Almost like you’re trying to impress someone.”
I turn around swiftly and crossing my arms tightly over my chest. “No, I’m not. I look the same as every other day.”
“Oh,” Mia says, leaning her back against the fridge. “My mistake. So, you finalized the rest of the wedding plans yesterday, and everything’s done? I was thinking of coming around tonight so we could make the place cards for the table. There’s this great craft shop a few blocks away which have these beautiful silk cardboard cut-outs, and we could buy some lace to match. What do you think?”
I nod, agreeing, although my headspace’s clouded, and the last thing I can think about right now is place cards. As I make my coffee, I add another teaspoon of sugar to sweeten it up and give me the much-needed boost of energy to get me through today. Thankfully, Slater won’t be in until after lunch which gives me time to think about what I need to say to him.
Sitting at my desk, my hands twitch nervously while I stare at the screen blankly. I grab my Troll Doll with the wild purple hair that sits beside my screen. In an attempt to calm my irrational thoughts, I play with the Troll’s hair sliding it between my fingers the same way I’d done when I was a child. Such an ugly doll. Who the hell came up with such a thing? Probably the same person who thought spandex flatters women’s bodies.