by Lee, Corri
He pulled his lips from mine and gripped my chin between his thumb and the knuckle of his index finger. “You’ve been drinking.” He should have expected as much- he rarely saw me without a drink in my hand.
I ran my finger down the seam of his shirt and stopped at his belt. “Cole, with what I’m about to do to you, I needed Dutch courage.” His hands grabbed mine when I moved to tackle the buckle.
“Cecelia, we’re in the middle of a fucking college.”
“And?” I leaned forward to his ear and blew gently. “I’m going to make this really easy for you. I’m not wearing underwear.” A tactic I’d brought with me from my lunch with the publishing folk. His breath hitched and there was a suggestive twitch within his suit trousers. “That’s what I thought.” If my lesson in deviance had taught me anything, it was that roaming the streets hanging free brought out the wanton beast in me- and that beast was furious with lust. My hands were released and allowed to resume their task. I’d done nothing but batter my sobriety all morning and the devil indeed made work for idle thumbs.
His belt tugged loose and I set to work on his zip. “Cecelia,” he warned, “my students are lurking.” The zip tugged free and I raised a hand to the nosey teenagers outside.
“They’ll have wanked to worse, Cole. Relax- the coat covers everything.” I kissed him hungrily and directed his hand underneath my mini-dress, breaking all of my preapproved standards of sex. “Touch me. I fucking love it when you touch me.” The lie made me feel powerful- that he so willingly obeyed was a potent aphrodisiac, and the feel of his fingers inside me conjured a thrill I hadn’t felt before.
I tugged at his boxers and he sprang free, solid and throbbing, raring for action. I knew that I could drive him crazy, but this wasn’t the time nor the place. This was about my satisfaction, not his. My hips arched towards him, making the silent instruction for him guide me. His hand slid up to my thigh and his grip tightened as I lowered myself down onto him with a slight gasp. That burning sensation of too much plagued me again despite my level of arousal- he was not a good fit to my body, but I was determined to adjust.
But every inch I lowered down, my emotional investment began to ebb away little by little. When I was full to the hilt, I felt nothing. Animal instincts took over- only the inherent knowledge of how to progress the functional mating ritual pushed me forward. My momentum increased as my frustration grew. The sparks I thought would come from being in control never appeared.
I desperately tried to hammer through my complacence- sweat beaded on my forehead and my fingers clawed at his shoulders while my coat cloaked my rampant efforts from our morbidly fascinated observers. But nothing. I admitted defeat once the torment reached the point of me feeling fit to scream, burying my head into the nook of his neck with a frustrated sob. His climax followed, as did applause from the corridor. He engulfed me in his arms and lifted my head to kiss me profusely in his post-orgasmic euphoria. For Cole, this had been a passionate danger fuck with the love of his life. But for me, it was an apology. I had failed him for not returning his affections, and I had failed myself for not tearing down whatever barriers kept me from accepting him as a soul mate. I needed what Nathaniel and Cole both had in their lives, and I promised myself that I would battle on this way until I had it.
“Jesus, Cecelia- you’re so easy to love.”
I wished that I wasn’t.
I strived to work one-handed through my shift at the bar that night, preferring to keep my fingers locked with Cole’s as much as possible. Every moment I could touch him was essential- I needed it to ‘feel’. I thought that there might be hope- that it might be the stirrings of ‘love’ I felt when his thumb ran across my knuckles- but what did I have to compare it to? Having never loved before, it was impossible to tell if it was the real deal that hid between the feelings of obligation to try harder. Whatever it was that I felt, it was fractured and incomplete. I suspected that I was maybe deeply in ‘like’.
Bethany retired from her place by Adam’s side to assist me when the bar began to fill up beyond safe capacity. It seemed that despite remaining unnamed in the media, my face was drawing a crowd and people were keen to see the new poster-girl of reported polyamory. That was the latest rumour- that I had open consensual romantic arrangements between both men, and used Cole for his looks and Nathaniel for his money. I hoped that anyone who recognised me from school or university had the good sense to know me better, and thanked my lucky stars that both of my parents had been only children, so I had no family to embarrass.
If I’d told one person that I didn’t have Nathaniel’s eyes- he had mine- I’d told a thousand. I set the record straight a million times to no affect, and when Bethany caught sight of my eyes starting to glaze and the light of my personality fade, an emergency alarm was lodged with the bar’s proprietor. Footsteps pounded down from the flat above the bar, and every person who our boss, David, didn’t recognise was ejected from the building with a snarl of ‘ she’s not a fucking freak show ’. I appreciated the support- I was utterly overwhelmed by the excess of attention, and that was why I never wanted fame.
With the bar whittled down to just our elderly patrons, I was relieved from my bar duties by David in an extension of sympathy for the situation I’d been involuntarily thrust into. My grip tightened around Cole’s hand as he moved to leave my side.
“Hey, I’m only going to the bathroom.”
“Oh.” I begrudgingly released his fingers and stared wistfully into the depths of my ‘Snowball In Hell’- a cocktail Bethany had concocted during the midst of her first serious break-up after a marathon three week love affair with a starving artist. My life was becoming a nightmare and I was trying to sate the ache of helplessness by nursing a terminal relationship. I was doomed to failure, but part of me still desperately clung to the hope of a fairy tale.
The aproned girl, who I recognised from the begonia delivery, marched into the bar with a thuggish looking young man I presumed to be her boyfriend and a large bouquet of white and tiger lilies. She thrust them into my arms and placed a small black box on the bar top before marching out with little more than an utterance regarding the generous tip she’d received in return for an out of hours delivery. Bethany passed me an envelope from the bouquet and pawed at the blossoms, eyeing me speculatively as I tore at the paper.
“Are you as into Cole as you’re making it look like you are?”
“Of course I am.” I didn’t dare to look at her as I spoke, knowing she’d see the doubt in my eyes.
She snorted. “You’re not fooling anyone. What does the note say?” I pursed my lips and passed it to her with a grimace, unimpressed by the correspondence.
It’s a long way to fall down the rabbit hole, so I’ll pick you up at six.
Magicians will arrive at your house at three.
N x
P.S. Your missing Tiffany is a higher priority than missing Prada.
“Cryptic much?” I mumbled in agreement and pulled open the lid of the small box on the bar, quickly snapping it back shut and wincing.
“Holy shit.” I pushed the box across the bar and craned my neck to keep a watchful eye on the entrance of the gent’s lavatory. It held something that would be a major trigger for Cole’s annoying possessiveness. “You have to hide this. And the card.”
“What, why?” Bethany opened the box with a stifled gasp and covered her mouth with her hand. “Tiffany.” Adam hoisted himself over the bar to look at the quaint two inch long platinum key-shaped pendant laced with immaculate diamonds, and whistled.
“So which sin is this?”
“It isn’t,” I coughed, “Please, Bethy. Hide it. Cole will freak out and try to compete, and I don’t think he has a spare-…” Adam pushed his smartphone across the bar and the Tiffany website stared up at me with the image of the pendant and its hefty price tag. “… Nearly seven grand for the pendant and chain, are you fucking joking?” I pushed his phone away with disgust and flinched when I felt a hand on my s
houlder.
“Who spent nearly seven grand on a pendant and chain?” Cole’s voice murmured at my shoulder and my blood froze in my veins. My eyes flared imploringly at Bethany, pleading her to jump to my aid.
“I did.” I breathed out a slow breath of relief and mouthed ‘thank you’ as she gave me a tight lipped smile. I was indebted, and the look on her face made sure I knew it.
“Jesus,” Cole swiped the box from her hand and pulled a face, “you must be on one hell of a salary to have this kind of superfluous income.” She was, but not quite that generous.
Adam stealthily nudged the note from the bouquet over the edge of the bar into Bethany’s waiting hand and sneakily pinched my side. He was thinking what I was thinking- I was a dirty little liar and I was going to hell.
Nathaniel’s face was scathingly critical as his eyes scanned the adjustments to the tragic ending of my novel. I’d worked tirelessly all night, kept awake by my anguish over my insufficiency of contentedness in what should have been a perfect relationship. His glance passed over the Tiffany pendant I’d refused to accept- he weaved both hands into his hair and leaned his elbows on the top of the desk, eyes cast down and darkened.
“In between rolling in here at ten o’clock looking exhausted and dishevelled, giving me back your necklace and this revision of the most depressing paragraph in your novel…” He looked up at me and sighed. “Cecelia, I’m worried about you.”
“What?” I fidgeted a tad and crossed my arms around my body, shielding myself from his remarks. I was aware that I hadn’t showered through lack of motivation that morning, but I certainly didn’t think that I looked a mess
“You put a lot of yourself into your writing- that’s obvious to any keen observer. But you write like you’re mourning. I am honestly a little worried about your state of mental health at the moment.” My jaw dropped- the insult and condescension wounding me. “Tell me that you’re not going the same way as your protagonist.”
I gaped and inched down in my seat. “Give me a break, I’m feeling shitty about the current state of my love life but I’m in no way bloody suicidal.”
“Is that what this is?” Nathaniel held up the Tiffany box and raised an eyebrow. “Turning down my gifts to prevent any kind of rift forming in your none-too-perfect relationship?” I wasn’t aware that I’d expressed any interest in seeking either relationship advice or counsel.
“I had no idea that I was that transparent. But unless that pendant comes with some sort of epiphany provoking message, I can’t accept it anyway.”
“You can and you will.” He slammed the box down in front of me and pushed his laptop to one side. “You can’t mourn the loss of something you never had, Cecelia. Stop looking for fireworks where there are none.” That was easy for him to say when they’d just fallen into his lap.
“What if I’m just not trying hard enough? What if I’m just not capable of that level of intimacy?”
“Stop being so fucking self-destructive, Cecelia!” Nathaniel shot up from his seat and slammed his palms down on the desk as he had done during our mezzanine showdown. “He’s not right for you and you know it. Stop tearing yourself apart and killing your spirit- he’s infatuated with you, it’s not love.”
“How the hell would you know?” I straggled to my feet and grabbed at my hair in frustration. “How the hell could you possibly know what the hell he feels when he stares at me like he needs me more than oxygen?” My fingers tangled out of my hair and clawed at face and neck like I was desperately trying to rip myself apart at the seams- breaking myself down into tiny pieces so I could be put back together as a real person who wasn’t so nightmarishly adverse to accepting and returning love. “I need those fireworks, Nathaniel. The lack is destroying me, and the harder I try, the more I need them. But they just won’t come- if anything, they’re getting further away.”
“So stop trying. At least with Cole- you know that’s a hopeless endeavour.” Nathaniel tugged me around the side of the desk and grabbed my wrists to halt my self-harm.
“It could be years before I find anyone else who’s keen enough to pursue me as relentlessly as he has.”
“You think?” His eyes reflected the soft pale green of his tie and pulled me into his gaze. For a moment, I was searching his soul and he was searching mine in return. I wanted to feel like this when I looked at Cole, I wanted him to pull me out of a panic with a single look. My synapses misfired, my vision tunnelled, and in that moment, there was only him. “Fi-…” I flattened my fingers across his mouth to silence him as the sound of My Chemical Romance piped from my pocket.
“Shit- Cole.” I pulled my wrists free and dug around for my phone.
“Your ringtone for Cole is I Don’t Love You?” I scowled and turned away from Nathaniel, breath unsteadily and my head spinning in confusion.
“Shut up, stop looking for the hidden subtext.”
“Who needs to look?” I rolled my eyes in annoyance and answered the call with slightly more of a snap than intended.
“Yes?”
“You’re not at home.” The recent soft cajoling lilt in Cole’s voice had, for the most part, dissolved.
“I’m allowed to not be at home, I’m working.”
“So why are you answering your phone?”
My already shaky guise of calm cracked. “Because last time I didn’t answer my phone I got a stream of derogatory hate mail. What do you want?” There was a brief silence before he answered- tone even and deceptively soft.
“I have friends who want to meet you tonight.” I had never been keen on the meeting friends side of a relationship, it was inevitably just an excuse to showcase a man’s new plaything to earn bragging rights the moment her back turned.
“I’m busy tonight, you’ve known that all week.”
“It’s just a stuffy charity event, you don’t have to go.”
“Maybe I want to go.”
“… Fine.” The line quickly died. I crushed my phone in my hand and cursed- I had walked straight into an argument and I knew it. I should have prioritised Cole over Nathaniel but chose the path of antagonism. What the hell is going on in your head today?
Nathaniel’s hand crept across my shoulder. “Cecelia, it’s half past eleven- go home and get a couple of hours sleep before you have to start getting ready at three. It’s going to be a really long night for you.”
“I don’t sleep in the middle of the day.” I was a master, or mistress, of all-nighters and sleep deprivation. University had seen to that.
“Do it,” his thumb brushed the nape of my neck, “or I’ll make you sleep on the chaise longue. You’ll thank me later when Isaac has you playing Guitar Hero at three in the morning.”
I blinked slowly. “Isaac. I’m meeting your brother?” I thought meeting the family might possibly be worse than meeting the friends, despite the lack of a ‘relationship’ between Nathaniel and I. My mind swiftly kicked into motion. Counterpart Records- another twin reference. “He owns the label.” Nathaniel nodded and ushered me towards the door.
“He throws one hell of a party, so sleep, drink coffee and make no plans for Saturday morning. If you thought cherry bombs were bad…” He blew a raspberry and shoved me out of the office by the small of my back. “Sleep.”
I arrived back at home in a worse haze than I’d left in. My mind hadn’t completely de-frazzled after the peculiar encounter with Nathaniel. I had desperately needed a girl chat with Bethany, but she’d already left for an early lunch break when I walked through the publishing house. Though, from what I could hear on the street, she was at home.
Mickey Avalon’s Fuckin’ Them All made the walls shake as I walked in through the front door. I slammed it behind me, hoping to alert her to my return through the racket, but the attempt was futile. The creaking of bed springs and cat calls of what sounded to be some seriously aggressive intercourse rang through the building- it was touch and go whether I’d ever see Adam alive again. I would never sleep through this madness.
I took to the Internet to research Counterpart Records while I waited for mating season to end. Isaac Alexander had a reputation for being one hell of a party animal and had been responsible for some notable annual charity balls for Great Ormond Street Hospital. Every ball was themed- 2011 had been Charlie And The Chocolate Factory. Part of me was a little disappointed that I’d been a year too late for that- the pictures were amazing and depicted a wonderful recreation of the book.
Isaac was also notorious for giving very little away until the last moment, and that meant sending two invitations to every guest- a provisional invite to set the date and a last minute hint at the theme. It was then left to the guests PAs to dig into the specifics, or else hearsay would have to suffice. I didn’t even know what I was supposed to wear- I hoped that Nathaniel’s ‘magicians’ would provide me with the answers.
The music eventually faded at half past twelve, confirming my suspicion that Bethany’s lunch time booty-call would make her late back to work. She thundered down the stairs with a laugh to her companion, freezing when she set eyes on me standing in the kitchen with a smirk.
“Hello Bethany. Hello Adam.” Her guest ploughed into the back of her, not aware of her swift transformation into a statue. And he wasn’t Adam. The black attire and lime green tie was a firm suggestion that he was a stiff from Alexander Publishing House. “Hello not Adam.” I shook my head, devastated by her misdemeanour and picked my phone up with a sigh, making a quick call to the first person who seemed logical.
“Cecelia? Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”
“Nathaniel, Bethany won’t be back from lunch. She’s about to die from shame.”