Poison in Pumps

by Karen Anne

  “Enough about me and record deals. Tell me what’s going on with you.”

  “Absolutely nothing to report.”

  “Oh come on, Kris.”

  “Well, let’s see. I’m recording my first album, and I have several interviews lined up… wait! No. That’s you. I’m making poster boards with Greek letters for Rush. Spoiler alert: I used acrylic paint—with glitter. Shocking, I know.”

  He shrugged and took another drag before flicking his ashes into an ashtray. “Eh, I’m sure you’re having more fun.”

  “I highly doubt it.” I bit my bottom lip. “I really miss you.”

  David leaned in closer to the screen, his voice hushed in a whisper. “I miss you too, love. You have no idea how badly I want you here— to show you London and have you beside me in the studio.”

  “You only want me in the studio?” I asked flirtatiously.

  He tsk’d and shook his head, putting out his cigarette. I was happy he had only smoked half of it. “You know I want you naked in my bed right now.”

  I paused and took a breath. There was an ocean between us, and I wondered if we could actually have that intense intimacy level that we were accustomed to. “What would you do to me if I was there?”

  David looked surprised, a shy smile crept up on his face. God, he was beautiful. Just seeing him on-screen and not being able to touch him was torture.

  He cocked his head slightly to the side and ran a tongue over his crooked canine. “You really want to do this?” he asked softly.

  My heart pounded. Why was I so nervous? It was only David. But, suddenly, I was speechless. I nodded in response, all the while thinking, yes. I absolutely want to do this.

  “All right. But, I’m signing off. I’ll call you on your cell.”

  “Uh… sure,” I said, not really sure what just happened. He gave a wave and disappeared from my screen. I felt stupid. Maybe he didn’t want to see me. Maybe he really didn’t want this. Maybe… my phone lit up with David’s picture.

  “Hello?”

  “Turn off the lights and get under the covers.” Holy shit! I wasn’t expecting for him to just jump in like that. His voice was warm, velvety, and commanding. His accent tugged on my panties and caused my head to spin. We had known each other for years. How the hell did he do that to me by uttering one sentence? I pressed the phone closer to my ear and did as I was told.

  “Lights are off, and I’m in bed,” I said with a shy smile.

  “Good. I like when you’re obedient.”

  Obedient? Was this really David Archer? He was like liquid sex oozing through my receiver. I racked my brain for a response, wanting to be just as good at this as he seemed to be, but the best I could come up with was, “What else do you like?”

  “I like… taking your clothes off and feeling your skin against mine.”

  That was a nice image. “I like that, too,” I said softly.

  “Take off your shirt and imagine me slipping the straps of your bra down your arm to reveal your perfect breasts. I’m going to cover them with warm kisses.”

  That was easy to imagine. I closed my eyes and imagined his lips caressing my curves… his tongue tracing my nipples. Shit. I wanted him so bad. “I love how your mouth feels on my body.” The words came out breathlessly, and I would have been embarrassed had David not moaned in response.

  “Baby, take off your pants, I want to taste you.” In the dark, hearing his voice, I could almost feel him. “Touch yourself and pretend it’s my tongue.” It was a cruel illusion, but I wasn’t willing to stop it. Not yet. I pushed down my pants and slipped my hand into my panties, not in the least bit surprised to find that I was wet.

  “Are you hard?” I asked with a shaky voice.

  “Mmhhh.” He moaned. “So hard.”

  I knew he needed me to talk to him, but I wasn’t sure what to say. He was pretty good at this. I wondered if he’d done it before… “Imagine me…” What should I say I’m going to do? Grab him? Suck him? I was starting to think I was in over my head, but still, it was the closest thing I had to being with him in weeks. “Stroking you,” I decided.

  He groaned again. “Baby. Your hands feel good,” he whispered. “Don’t stop.”

  I wasn’t sure if he meant don’t stop talking or don’t stop pretending that I was jerking him off. This was all so new, terrifying and crazy sexy. Luckily, he spoke first. “I really want to be inside you. Are you wet?”

  Was I wet? I was going to have to change my sheets after this long-distance call. “Yes,” I said breathlessly as I drew my fingers up to my bundle of nerves and began rubbing the spot, wishing he was inside me. “Yes… David… I want you inside me.”

  “I am, baby… I am…” he said with a ragged breath, and I worked my fingers harder until I found my sweet spot. “I’m buried so deep.” He groaned.

  “Yes! David!” I gasped as my muscles tensed from the pleasure. I cried out softly, careful not to be too loud for fear that there was someone out in the hallway. Then, I felt my body relax against the mattress. David gave a familiar grunt that I had heard a thousand times, just never over the phone. Listening to his ragged breathing was one of the sexiest sounds I had ever heard. I snuggled under the covers, a sweet smile across my lips.

  Finally, he spoke. “Wow. Kris… that was bloody amazing. Did you…?”

  “Yeah,” I admitted, Rubbing my forehead with the back of my hand, my mind still in disbelief. One minute we were talking about Harry needing a girlfriend. The next I’m having an orgasm simply by playing a little pretend. “Did you?”

  “Yeah.” He still sounded a bit out of breath, and that’s how I knew for sure that he had. I wanted to roll on top of him, to kiss his neck and smell his hair. And maybe, even do it all over again. But he was on another continent, and I was in a house with unsuspecting Delta Sigs.

  “I wish I was in your arms right now. I need you beside me,” I whimpered, afraid I might cry.

  “Close your eyes, love. I am.”

  ELEVEN

  Had I known that everything would have fallen to shit after that phone call, I never would have hung up. After our evening of bliss, followed by some blush worthy sexting, David became consumed in his work. He was constantly at the studio or in meetings and whenever we did talk, he looked like he was about to drop. He was exhausted, running on fumes, and all I could do was urge him to go to bed and patiently wait for his next phone call, hoping he’d be more alert.

  Good morning texts disappeared. Instead, I got a fumbled apology text telling me he was in a car or meeting with his agent. Apparently, he had an agent now. Our regular FaceTime calls now dropped from every night to a few times a week. Forget phone sex. That was a one-time deal. Whenever we managed to have a virtual moment together, I tried to put on a brave face, but he was talking about things I couldn’t possibly understand, and all I wanted was him home, back on the couch, strumming his guitar. I knew now those days were long gone. Even if he did come back to the States, he would never just go back to his apartment in Pennsylvania with Harry. I wondered if he would move to Manhattan. If he did, where would that leave us? I still hadn’t had my audition, so it was hard to plan a future based on what-if.

  Still, the lack of attention was starting to play head games with me. Missing him and not knowing was a cruel place to be. Just when I was convinced he could easily survive without me, the doorbell rang. I was sitting on a chair in our common room looking through my music theory notes when Summer leapt off the couch to answer the door. She liked to greet whoever rang the bell, assuming the role of the face of Delta Sig as though she were our mascot. Hearing Summer’s squeal when she answered the door, I could only imagine what was on the other side.

  “So pretty!” she gushed. Then it was followed by a disappointing, “Oh. They’re for you, Kristen.” I heard her close the door and watched as she walked in with a vase filled with two dozen long stemmed red roses.

  “Oh my!” I jumped up and took the vase out of her hands and over
to the coffee table. I knew they were from David, and my heart started thumping wildly at the thought. Grand romantic gestures were few and far between in our relationship prior to his move. So to have him actually send me a gift while overseas made me giddy, like when we were first dating and he’d pull out his guitar and sing to me.

  “Here’s the card.” Summer pointed to a small white card that was sticking out of the baby’s breath. Not thinking that perhaps the card might be personal, she opened it and read out loud. “Twenty-four roses. One for each day we’ve been apart.”

  Summer made a nauseated face, but I melted. This was so unlike David, and I was completely enamored by how thoughtful he was. I looked at my watch. It was ten in the morning, which meant it would only be three o’clock in London. I pulled out my cell and FaceTimed him. I had to see those hazel eyes and tell him how much I loved him.

  The call was answered on the second ring, but it wasn’t hazel eyes that met my gaze. It was deep chocolate eyes. “David Archer’s phone,” said a handsome man wearing a touch of gold eyeshadow. He reminded me of a young Cinna from The Hunger Games, but without the sex appeal of Lenny Kravitz.

  “Uh… hi… is David there?”

  “No, he’s in the studio right now. Can I take a message?”

  A message? “I’m sorry, who are you?”

  “Garret, Mr. Archer’s assistant.” Mr. Archer? Assistant? What portal had I just stepped into? David would have laughed if anyone called him Mr. Archer, and since when did he have a minion? “Who may I ask is calling?”

  “I’m Kristen. David’s girlfriend.” My voice was icy, and I was beyond pissed off. I loathed the fact that there was a human answering machine standing between me and David.

  “Oh! Hello!” His attitude instantly changed, and instead of being the bouncer that stood between David and myself, he tried to be my new girlfriend. “My, you have gorgeous cheekbones.”

  “Um… thanks?”

  “Can I take a message for Mr. Archer? This is a roaming area, and his bill will be very high.”

  “Oh… yes. Could you just tell him thank you for the roses?”

  “Oh! You got them! Fantastic. I wasn’t sure what color, but I mean you can never go wrong with red, right?”

  He wasn’t sure what color? And just like that, someone had stuck a pin in all the heart doodles that were flying over my head. “Wait… you sent the flowers?” My heart slipped straight down into the pit of my stomach.

  “Yes, but I can assure you, they are from Mr. Archer.”

  What did that even mean? Had he just handed over a credit card and an address and asked this kid to send me a gift? “Could you tell me when David will be out of the studio today?”

  Garret pulled his own huge iPhone out of his pocket and pulled up a schedule. “He’s there until six, but then he has an appointment with his trainer and then a dinner engagement with the people at Billboard.” Since when did David need a trainer? His body was perfect. How could he even afford a trainer, or an assistant? Were his new “people” paying for all of this? Was he getting an advance? I guess it didn’t matter. It’s not like he was here to answer my questions. “I’m sorry, but we really should wrap this up. Roaming rates and all.” So he could have an assistant, but not a high phone bill? Seriously, what the hell?

  “Yeah, just tell him I called,” I said, feeling like a jerk. Garret nodded and clicked the button to end our call.

  “He actually has an assistant? Whoa, I’m impressed.”

  I looked up from my phone realizing Summer had witnessed my humiliation. Her arms were crossed, and she was looking through me. I imagined she was seeing David in her head, not the guy who hung out at the coffee shop and played his set list, but all cleaned up in a tux, accepting his Grammy award.

  “Looks like it.” Taking the flowers, I pushed past her to get to the stairs. Once in my room, I put them on my nightstand and looked at the card one more time. One for each day we’ve been apart… Did he at least tell Garret to write that? David was a songwriter. Surely he could come up with something that sweet on his own. But judging by his new assistant’s behavior, I couldn’t be sure, and I knew asking him would probably start a fight. I didn’t have time to mope. I had class in half an hour, and now a reason to bury my face in my books. My last semester as a college undergrad was two weeks underway, and I had never been more grateful for schedules, exams, and papers.

  My Italian Lit professor tried to bring home the fear of Dante’s Inferno by reenacting the seven layers of hell, but I wasn’t interested. I was too busy re-reading all of David’s texts and trying to figure out if he had written them, or if they were random I miss you’s compliments of his minion.

  Last week I had sent David a care package with all his favorite treats. And in a bold act of trying to bring sexy back, I packed one of my G-strings as well, hoping that would lead to a steamy text, or maybe even another night of playing pretend over the phone. What I got was a thank you call from Garret. It would appear David and I were having a threesome, and Garret had been invited into our personal lives without my consent.

  Brit was the first to notice I had gone from melancholy to annoyed. Perhaps the way I swung open the door to exit the building was her first clue. She was sitting on the steps waiting for me so we could have lunch. “You look like you need to break something— or perhaps, someone?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “If it’s Summer, I’ll help you tie her up and duct tape her mouth shut.” She beamed a smile and wagged her eyebrows hopefully.

  “Summer I can handle. It’s Garret who's my problem.”

  “Who’s Garret?”

  “The person I’m in a relationship with.”

  Brit stopped walking and grabbed my arm. “Rewind, and don’t skimp on the details.”

  “Garret is David’s assistant.”

  “David has an assistant? Oh my God! That is so freaking cool!”

  “No, no.” I shook my head vigorously. “It’s not cool at all. He basically hijacked David’s phone. If I want to talk to David, I have to go through Garret first.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Doesn’t David call you, like, every day?” My facial response was all she needed. Call me every day? Ha! “Well… how often do you guys talk?”

  “Not enough.”

  “This is stupid.” She pulled out her phone, scrolled through her contacts until she found David’s number. She tapped on a link and FaceTimed him. I don’t know why I thought she’d have better luck than me, but for a brief second, I had hope. Until Garret swam into view. Today’s eyeshadow was turquoise.

  “David Archer’s phone,” Garret said, and I snorted in response.

  “Hey…” Brit looked perturbed, but didn’t give up. “I’d like to talk to David please.”

  “Mr. Archer is not available at the moment, but I would be happy to take a message.” I nudged Brit in the arm and gave her my best I told you so expression.

  “It’s really urgent that I speak with David. I’m Brit. I took over his band back home, and I have a few questions to ask… about the set list.” I rolled my eyes. I thought Brit could come up with a better excuse than that.

  “I’m sorry, but Mr. Archer is completely detained. I will tell him that you called, and your inquiry will be noted.”

  “My inquiry will be noted?” Brit repeated. She was in shock.

  I grabbed the phone. “Garret, it’s Kris. Can you tell me where my boyfriend is?”

  “Oh! Hello, Ms. Forte. I wasn’t aware that she was with you. Yes, Mr. Archer is with his personal stylist. They are going over a new look for him.”

  “A new look?” My voice was shrill. “What’s wrong with his current look? He’s beautiful!”

  “He’s dated.” Garret gave a slow blink and pursed his lips. He was practically begging me to slap him.

  “Dated?” Brit and I repeated in surround sound. She was smooshed up against me, and I could feel her rage as she looked at Garret.

  “Well…
yes. The hair for starters… it’s so bleached. And gray. What was he thinking?”

  “Hey! I did his hair!” Brit said rather defensively. “Gray is cool. It’s hip. It’s trendy, and it’s not even gray, it’s silver!” She was screeching like a harpy. Way to play it calm, Brit.

  “It’s trying too hard,” Garret said, too snarky for my liking. I watched how his gaze drew up to the halo of purple around Brit’s head. Outside in the sun, she was a grape.

  “David liked it,” Brit grumbled. It looked like Garret wanted to argue, but he kept his mouth shut and smiled politely at us.

  “What else are you changing about him?” I asked, my stomach in actual knots.

  “Oh a new wardrobe will do wonders. Personally, I’m hoping they snip off that pathetic little man-bun he has going on.”

  Brit gasped. She had talked David into growing his hair longer.

  “Because it’s dated,” I said, wondering if I agreed with him if he would allow me to join forces and break through David’s wall of people so I could have a conversation with my boyfriend that didn’t happen in the middle of the night.

  “Exactly. The new David will be fabulous. Trust me, girl, you won’t be sorry. I’ll tell him you called.” Before I could say another word, Garret hung up.

  “You won’t be sorry,” Brit repeated in a mock tone.

  “I don’t think he realizes I already am.”

  Brit glanced at her phone, as if she were waiting. I think she half expected David to call her back. Realizing that this was now life with a quasi-important person, she looked up and said, “You seem calm about the hair.”

  I shrugged and adjusted the strap of my backpack. “They could shave his head if it meant I’d have him back.”

  We were quiet for a beat or two, walking in silence until Brit said, “You would die if they shaved his head.”

  I looked at her in horror. She knew me too well and called my bluff. “You’re right.” I put my palms together in mock prayer. “Sweet baby Jesus, protect his hair!”