by Mia Luxe
I stretch luxuriously, spreading out on the huge bed and still not touching the edges.
Zoe would be so jealous to see this bed.
I snap her a quick pic of the massive bed.
She snaps back a response of her face with her mouth in a huge O with the caption “lucky hoe!”
There is only an empty space beside me in the bed, but the sounds of clanging from the kitchen and the smell of bacon explain his absence. I stand up and look out at the city which stretches below me.
I’m on top of the world. Literally.
With a big yawn, I walk to the bathroom, feeling at ease in my nakedness. I rinse my mouth out and dab some toothpaste on my finger to give myself a semblance of a teeth-brushing. After another rinse with mouthwash, my mouth tastes clean enough to gulp down water.
Everything about the penthouse screams opulence. The countertop is one long piece of marble with the sink carved into it. The seamless smooth top of the marble is contrasted by rough-hewn stone under the base of the polished stone sink, and a single black spout with small handles complete it. The extravagance of the bathroom sends a wave of stress that I have to fight back by practicing my breathing.
Olivia, you don’t belong here. You don’t belong in a multi-million-dollar penthouse having breakfast served to you by the most handsome man you’ve ever laid eyes on. You don’t deserve breathtaking sex, and you aren’t good enough for a man like Bruce Harrison. If you can’t satisfy a guy like Eric, how could you ever satisfy Bruce? You are another conquest, a naive little girl who he is going to completely forget in a few days.
I suddenly feel ashamed in my nudity and I grope for a bathrobe which I throw around me. I barge into the bedroom and locate my clothes, strewn about the room, feeling utterly ridiculous to put on the little black dress in daylight. The mirrors which last night reflected our bodies together in passion now show me my face devoid of makeup and my hair astrewn, and I feel ugly and alone.
I rush out into the kitchen, where Bruce looks at me. His eyes are tender at first. Then they turn questioning.
“I made breakfast, but you look like you’re already out the door.”
Confusion washes over me. He is standing there, two plates of delicious full English breakfasts in his hands. I notice the fresh coffee and a carafe of orange juice that makes me want to slip back into the bathrobe and enjoy breakfast on the balcony. The smell makes my stomach rumble.
Stay strong. You need to show him you aren’t head over heels for him. You can’t let him think you are some naive little student who’s going to bend over backward for him. How can I trust him? The way he spanked me last night, the way he called me his slut, his pet… how many other women has he called those names? How many other students has he entertained in his king-size bed?
Coldness washes over me.
“I better be going. I always run with Zoe Saturday mornings.”
“I understand, it’s OK. I wish you could stay but friendship comes first. Can I give you a ride back?”
“Someone could see…”
He picks up his phone and starts dialing.
“Who are you calling?”
“A chauffeur.”
I don’t want his private driver. I don’t want to take anything from him.
“No, don’t call a chauffeur. I’ll take a cab.”
He hangs up starts punching something in his phone.
“There’s an Uber coming in ten minutes.”
He’s in a tight-fitting black t-shirt and pajama pants, with brown comfortable looking slippers. I slip on my heels, wincing and wishing I could be in comfy slippers as well.
Time for the walk of shame.
He grabs my coat for me, but I quickly pull it from him, wrapping it around my body and hiding me from sight.
I try to go into the elevator alone, but he walks in with me, his strong frame beside me. He seems to steady, so calm.
Calm because he’s done this a thousand times before.
The elevator shoots down to the ground floor and he insists on walking me out to the road and waiting with me. The bustle of the city streams past us as we stand waiting for the Uber. I want to tell him to leave, but a part of me wants him to stay. I don’t know what to think.
When the Uber arrives, he holds the door open and kisses me goodbye, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
What am I doing? Who am I?
Everything and Nothing
Bruce Harrison - Saturday Morning
The first time I want a woman to stay after sex, she darts out the door.
With Olivia out the door I’m not hungry anymore. I leave the two plates of piping hot food on the counter and grab a mug of coffee. Stepping out on my balcony I look down at the city and take a sip of the liquid. The piping hot coffee warms me in the cool morning air.
The city stretches out under me. From my balcony, I can see everything. My two restaurants in downtown Seattle. The ports where I have invested heavily, the apartment buildings I own, all the worldly possessions a man could want.
All the possessions a normal man could want.
I always want more. No matter what I have, I always want to expand. To build. To create. I am never satisfied.
Unless I’m with her.
I look to my right where Olivia should be standing. She should be wrapped in a comfortable terrycloth robe with nothing underneath, her eyes twinkling as she sips coffee and laughs with me, staring out at what could all be ours.
I would trade it all to be with her.
I wince in pain as scalding coffee pours over me, the sharp crack of the mug breaking under my tightening grip bringing me back to reality. Blood wells from the cuts and I curse under my breath, going back into my apartment completely alone.
Poison
Olivia Abernathy - Saturday Morning
Zoe calls me on the way to dorms, and I tell her that I’ll be there soon for our run and not to go without me. She already presses me for details, but I tell her to be patient. The Uber driver seems friendly enough, but I’m so lost in my thoughts I don’t say a word to him.
I meet her in the dorm room and have to put my hand up to stop her questions. I need to get out of this ridiculous little dress.
Rushing out of my tight dress and into my workout clothes in the bathroom lets me breathe a sigh of relief. When I look at myself in a tank top over a sports-bra and athletic shorts that let me move free, I look like myself. It’s a huge relief after spending a night trying to be…
Was I trying to be someone else? Am I that person? It’s so confusing.
I step back into the dorm room.
“Alright Olivia, spill the details. You stayed the night with him! I need to hear everything, from the moment he picked you up in that beautiful Jag - yeah, I was watching from the window - to where you ended up.”
“Look, Zoe, it was crazy. It was exciting but also… I don’t know. Can we just… Can we just run? I have so much to think about. I know it’s horrible to keep you in suspense, but I swear I’ll tell you everything after our run.”
Her expression changes from eagerness to understanding.
“Of course, Olivia. It’s your life, and although I want to hear everything I understand if you can’t tell it all. I want you to be happy. Ugh, this is going to be one of your working-through-things runs, isn’t it? And here I was, hoping to kill my hangover with a leisurely stroll.”
“No chance of it. Plus, it’s nippy outside. We need to go fast, or we’ll cramp up.”
When we finish the run, we are completely and utterly beat, and I relish the soreness and pain. It is Zoe’s turn to take the first shower, and when she’s finally done hogging the bathroom I enjoy the tiny little shower with our shared shower caddy and the 15-dollar bottle of body wash.
Comfortable and familiar.
When we are both finished, we sit down on our beds and I tell Zoe everything. That Professor Harrison owns restaurants and a penthouse. That he cleared out a dining room for us at a packed res
taurant. The sex, although I left out some of the juicier details, my cheeks flushed as I remember the way he manhandled me.
“Everything sounds amazing so far!”
“I know, I know. But in the morning, something changed.”
Zoe’s eyes cloud with anger.
“That bastard better not have kicked you out of his apartment.”
I can see from the fire in her eyes she is picturing Professor Harrison sleeping with me and throwing me out the door.
“No, the opposite. He cooked me breakfast. It looked amazing, but I got this weird feeling like I didn’t belong. Like I wasn’t worth it.”
“He cooked you breakfast and you ran out on him?”
“I was out the door in seconds. The feeling was really intense. Like… what makes me special? Bruce has it all. How could I ever be enough for him?”
Zoe runs her hand over mine.
“Zoe, he isn’t like Eric.”
Eric. I hate that name. I hate that reminder. My first and only boyfriend, who decided I wasn’t enough for him.
“How can I trust a guy again? How can I know I’m enough for anyone?”
Zoe has the same look as when she gives our team a pep talk. A pep talk that always motivates us and forces us to play our best.
“Olivia, I’m not just saying this. You are fucking hot. A guy like Bruce is lucky to be with you, not the other way around.”
I roll my eyes.
“No, seriously. And I’ve been doing some digging. Asking around about Bruce. Half the women on the faculty are obsessed with him, but he’s got a squeaky clean reputation.”
I want to believe her.
“There’s not a hint of him ever doing anything inappropriate with a student. The guy is rich and attractive, but he’s never touched a student before. You made him cross the line.”
“Well, I don’t know. Even if he hasn’t been with another student, who’s to say he doesn’t have fuck buddies, or a girlfriend?”
“Did you see anything at his place? A woman’s toothbrush, a little thong forgotten in the corner?”
“No, nothing like that. His place is pure man, a bachelor’s paradise. I just wish I knew that there isn’t another woman warming his sheets tonight, and tomorrow…”
I grab my pillow and cover my face with it for a second, hiding from the world.
“You don’t have any reason to believe it, other than he’s hot and successful.”
“Ugh, and I have class with him on Monday, and Tuesday, and then another session with him on Wednesday before the game… this is all happening so fast! I don’t have a moment to think.”
Zoe theatrically breathes in and out, bringing her arms up high as she inhales. She exhales dramatically as she lets her hands fall.
“Breathe girl. I know it feels crazy. I can’t believe I’m saying this… But focus on school and volleyball, and not on boys. Relax. Be in your routine, and don’t stress out. You just met the guy. Maybe something amazing is going to happen. But it’s not going to change anything by taking a little time to yourself. Don’t text him, don’t call him, you’re going to see him in class and then on Wednesday, you’ll have him all to yourself. Just relax and see what happens.”
I smile.
“You always have the best advice, Zoe. You’re right. I need to have my priorities straight. I need to focus on school and athletics. God, but class would be so awkward if he loses interest in me or it doesn’t work out. I don’t know if I could even go.”
“You really haven’t had a lot of experience with guys, have you, Olivia? I don’t want to be mean, but no matter how amazing he is, you’ve only been on one date together. It sounds like you two have an amazing chemistry. Maybe this blossoms into something serious, or maybe you two have amazing sex and end up with steamy memories. It’s win-win!”
I nod. It’s hard to think of having a fling. A week ago he made me so angry and resentful, and now I’m imagining a future together.
I feel like all that anger and resentment came from not feeling good enough. From the worthlessness that Eric made me feel last year and the way it poisons my view of all men. When I see a guy like Professor Harrison, I can’t imagine how he could be satisfied.
I need to focus on me. I can’t afford to be distracted, not in this important time of my life.
It just feels like when I spend time with him… I want it to last a lifetime, and it’s so scary to think it doesn’t feel the same to him.
Red Ink
Bruce Harrison - Tuesday Evening
I look down at Olivia’s paper on my office desk. The A+ stares back at me. The bright red ink accuses me.
Of course, the first time someone other than me marks her work, she gets 97%.
I fight the urge to read her project. I need to distance myself from her academically if I want to have a future with her.
Have I been too hard on her all this time? I hate this feeling. Doubt. Uncertainty. I never allow myself uncertainty.
The way she left my apartment with barely a word hurts.
Olivia needs to succeed. If she wants to keep her distance, if I’m just a night of passion before she rushes out the door… t=That’s her choice. The consequences are dire for her. If we get found out, all that happens if I lose a teaching job I don’t need. For her? A tarnished reputation and suspect grades.
The last two days of classes it is like there is nothing between us. Her sitting in class and me teaching, no soft glances or hidden kisses. I resist the urge to call her to my office to get her alone. I understand. She is smart. She is practical. She does not want to risk everything for me.
I don’t feel the same way. I would put it all on the line if it meant being with her.
Monday was torture, and today was the same. Being so close to her yet so far. My whole body aches for tomorrow, to be with her in private. To talk to her, to touch her.
I reach for my phone and call her.
“Hey Olivia, it’s Bruce.”
“Hey, Bruce,”
“I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow.”
I don’t bring up how the last time I was with her in private she rushed out of my apartment as fast as she could.
“Me too Bruce. I’m going to need every bit of help I can get for Thursday’s game. If we win this one… We get into the postseason. Last week’s miracle win followed by an upset on Thursday would be incredible. It’s all I can think about.”
“You’re all I can think about.”
I don’t regret the words. I am not going to play games with her. I am not going to hide the fact that I want her desperately. They say desperation is a pathetic trait in a man.
I say it is a motivator.
“I’m all you can think about? Don’t you have a business to run, or a menu to perfect, or…”
Eighty-hour work weeks through the entirety of my twenties set me up for success. Now that I have climbed the mountain of success, my hunger yearns for something more. The businesses I built, the investments I researched and pulled the trigger on, the meetings convincing capital to go where I wanted it… All that work has set me up to the point where I could hire a manager and my businesses would generate revenue for the rest of my life.
“Those aren’t important right now. What’s important is we get you ready for Thursday’s game. I’ve got some techniques I used before my Olympic qualifying run…”
The memory of that date bites me, and her silence on the other end tells me she is thinking the same thing.
The Olympic qualifying run where you didn’t place. The one where you couldn’t repeat your best time. When you needed to succeed, you failed.
The pain of the memory feels fresh, but I plow on.
“You can learn from defeat. I’ll give you a breakdown of “what I wish someone told me before the most important day of my life”. I want to you succeed Olivia, and I’m going to do whatever it takes to make it happen.”
Her voice sounds shy.
“Thanks for all your help
Bruce. But I never, ever want you to pull any strings or… I don’t know, use your influence in any way. If this is going to work between us, whatever this is, you can never use the fact that you are a Professor to help me.”
A smile breaks over my face. She is finding her confidence in front of me. In the brief time I have known her, I can sense that her fierceness is growing. She is blossoming.
“You have my word.”
“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow, Bruce.”
She hangs up before I have a chance to say anything more.
I lean back in my chair when my phone buzzes again.
I check it, but instead of a message from Olivia, there is a text from Laurel, the red-haired librarian. Uneasiness settles over me.
I miss you Bruce.
I type back.
Laurel, we had one night together last year. I am not interested in anything further. Please do not contact me again.
She texts back instantly.
Bruce, you aren’t thinking straight. We’re meant to be together.
Calm Within The Storm
Olivia Abernathy - Wednesday Afternoon
As I walk to my Wednesday appointment with Bruce, I reflect back to the last two days of class.
Monday and Tuesday’s classes with Professor Harrison went well. We kept our distance. Bruce glanced at me often in class, and I realize now that he’s been doing it since the first day. I always assumed he was judging me. Now it feels like he just can’t help himself.
I feel more in control. When things aren’t rushing forward, it gives me a second to breathe.
I kept thinking he was going to call on me for answers, but he kept a respectful distance. You would think I had learned my lesson by now to pay attention to his lectures, but volleyball kept invading my thoughts.
We need just one more win. One more win… against Stanford.
Against the girls who humiliated me.
The fateful game where I lost my temper and almost ruined my team’s playoff chances. Tomorrow I have one shot at redemption.