Insipid

by Christine Brae

  “Do we have to? Can we cool down with a short walk? It’s only 7:30.”

  “Sure.” We trudge on slowly along the cement path towards the starting point. I look around worriedly, prepared to turn the other way the minute we see someone from the office.

  “Relax, we’re just running together.” He reads my thoughts. How does he do that?

  “I know,” I respond defensively, stopping in my tracks when a large group of birds blocks me from moving any further.

  Lucas keeps going until he realizes that I’m no longer walking alongside him. He turns around with a questioning look, about to open his mouth to speak.

  “Birds. I can’t,” I say, standing there helplessly. “Don’t shoo them this way, then they’ll all start flying towards me!” I shriek, backing away, terrified as he begins to approach me.

  He circles around them until he’s back at the place where I stand. To my astonishment, he lifts me up and slings me over his shoulders, running through them and flapping his arms.

  “Lucas! Put me down! What are you doing?” I giggle, bouncing up and down in his arms.

  “I’m protecting you from the birds!” he reminds me as if this is totally normal, running and keeping a firm grip on my legs at the same time.

  A flash of light sparks the corner of my upside down eye. “Luke! Did you just see that lightning? It’s going to rain! We’d better head back!” I cry, my words bouncing disjointedly as I’m jostled up and down. The birds are long gone but I’m still enclosed in his arms.

  “First the birds and then the rain. Jade! Is there anything you aren’t afraid of?” He runs effortlessly for a few more feet and then stops to put me down. He looks around and turns to me seriously. “Okay, the coast is clear.”

  The clouds choose that moment to open up and the raindrops fall like buckets of water. We’re soaked in a matter of seconds. For some reason, we find it extremely funny, bursting into laughter at the same time.

  “So much for that!” He snags my hand and we run for what little shelter there is, the drinking fountain shed, which has a little awning that extends a few inches past the structure. I’m not surprised that there’s no one there. People must have sought more dependable refuge once the lightning started to hit.

  “Look at my hair!” I exclaim, running my fingers through my thoroughly flat head.

  “Jade. That’s not what I’m worried about,” he says as his eyes darken and his look changes. I follow the direction of his gaze to find my shirt soaked through and totally transparent.

  “Oh my God, Luke!” I wrap both arms around my chest in embarrassment, but his eyes never move.

  His hand gently reaches out to wipe the drops of water from my cheek, slowly trailing downwards towards my crossed arms. He bends his head down and growls provocatively in my ear, “I’m dying to touch you.”

  I don’t know what comes over me. I drop my arms to reveal myself and allow his eyes to rest upon me for a few seconds. “Lucas, we have to go. Please. The merger. Too much at stake. For you. For me.” I can’t say the words. I can’t be here anymore. I’m dizzy with arousal.

  “Okay.” He quickly fusses with the hem of his shirt as he lifts his arms to remove it. “Put this on, please.”

  I slip the shirt over my head, trying not to think about how good it smells. “Thank you. I’ll see you at the office?”

  “Yes. I need to cool down a bit. Go ahead.”

  “See you later,” I whisper, reaching out to touch the gloriously rugged stubble on his face before turning on my heels and running back to the locker room.

  THE NIGHT BEFORE his last full day at the office, I wake up in the middle of the night in a panic. I’ve had these attacks before, and my doctor has given me many ways to deal with the cold sweats and shallow breathing that accompanies these onslaughts. As I sit up on my bed to switch on the light, my thoughts are filled with memories of the past two weeks. I feel apprehensive and anxious. All I can think about is the fact that I’m never going to see him again. Ever. I feel sad and displaced, overwhelmed with the familiar feeling of loss and profound emptiness. I can’t explain it and all I know is that I don’t want the morning to come.

  Needless to say, the sleepless night takes a toll on me the next day. I can’t shake this feeling of melancholy. Nothing feels right. I’m tense and agitated. Many times during the day I walk past the conference room to catch a glimpse of him pacing around the table, organizing his binders, packing them up in boxes. I don’t make an effort to stop by to engage him in conversation. In fact, I avoid him the entire time, making sure to keep my door closed as a sign that I don’t want to interact with anyone. I’ve never felt this way before. The need to have him in my life, even if just as a friend… this connection, this longing… it’s completely foreign to me.

  Later on that evening, I sit on the floor and stare out the window. I haven’t spoken to him all day. I don’t know how to approach him, how to say goodbye. I hear the converging sound of footsteps, but I don’t move from where I am. Quietly, he enters my office and shuts the door behind him. I watch him come closer from the reflection on the glass.

  “Jade.”

  “Do you ever wonder what their stories are? Those people crossing the bridge, walking back and forth across the river?”

  “I don’t know, I don’t have this view from my office,” he says lightheartedly.

  I don’t say anything and we let a few seconds of silence pass between us.

  He sits down on the floor right next to me. “Where do we go from here, Jade?” he asks sadly, stretching his legs out in front of him and leaning back on his arms.

  “We finish the report and go on with the merger.” I turn to face him. “You’ll go on to earn fifteen million dollars from this and be a very rich and happy man.”

  “I don’t want you to worry about us. It’s not over. I’ll be back.”

  “I’m not worried.”

  “Yes, you are.” He moves next to me and puts his arm around my shoulder. “You’re not alone anymore. I’m here.”

  I resolve not to give those words any credence. They can’t be anything more than empty promises. There’s no use in prolonging this. Whatever it is.

  “I don’t need you to feel sorry for me.”

  “Oh God, do you think that, really?” he says in irritation. “You really don’t know, do you?”

  “Know what?” I ask, taken aback by the change in his attitude.

  “How enthralling you are, Jade. How intriguing and soulful and utterly sexy you are. You don’t see what other people see in you. That’s what makes you so special. You don’t use this—” he pauses to sweep his arms up and down as if tracing me from head to toe, “as leverage. You see it as a burden when it shouldn’t be.”

  “So you’re psychoanalyzing me now, young man?” I say in a stern but amused tone. I want him to remember our age difference. This will never work.

  “Jade?” he mutters, tilting my head upwards so that our eyes are locked together.

  “Hmm?”

  “I’m going to kiss you now.” His lips touch mine ever so lightly at first, increasing in pressure as he firmly holds my head in place. As I open up willingly to him, they turn heated and overpowering. “You are so enticing,” he whispers, lightly tucking a strand of hair behind my ear before holding my face in his hands.

  For the first time in years, I forget that I’m broken. I feel shiny and new. Loved and desired.

  If only for a few brief seconds.

  I know right here and now that nothing will ever be the same for me. I’ve ventured into new territory. The high from a touch that cures the deepest of wounds… it will never leave me. I will never recover from this.

  “Luke, stop!” I cry out, jerking my head back to release his hold on me. “The deal isn’t done yet. We can’t do this.”

  It takes him a few seconds to catch his breath. “Okay, okay,” he concedes, looking to the floor, his breathing still heavy. “I realize that our professional relatio
nship is still ongoing until the final report is issued. And so to accommodate your vehement request, I’ll refrain from touching you again. But…” he gently lifts me up off the floor to carry me over to my desk, seating me on the edge and standing between my legs, “I’m going to make sure that you know what I’ve been wanting to do to you since the morning that we met.” He peels off the scarf around my neck and throws it on the floor. Slowly, he unbuttons my blouse expertly with one hand, taking his time, watching for my reaction.

  I look away and hold my breath, afraid to move a muscle. I feel the cool air of the room on my skin as he snakes his hand underneath me to unclasp my bra. I close my eyes as he lifts it up to expose me.

  “Every part of you is perfect,” he croons as he slides my blouse off my shoulders. “The other day. In the rain—”

  He pushes me further back with agonizing caution until I’m supporting myself with both arms and my legs are dangling off the desk. With one quick swoop of his arm, the desk is cleared of everything that has made up my life for the past two years. Piles of papers are now scattered on the floor around his feet.

  “What’s this?” he asks as his thumbs lift up my chin and caresses a purple line around my neck, right above my collarbone.

  “Thyroid surgery,” I volunteer willingly.

  “Hmm. It doesn’t look like stitches,” he murmurs to himself as he plants tiny kisses along its jagged line. “My God, you smell like heaven.”

  A mixture of emotions runs through me, excitement and panic at odds with each other. Past and present are going to collide. How will this end up?

  He diverts his attention to the only item that’s left on the table, a combination pen/ highlighter, oval in shape and thick in width. He begins to trace the blunt end of the pen down my neck, outlining my breasts and circling towards my stomach, until he reaches my waistband. He undoes my pants and pulls them down swiftly, letting out a gasp as he sees what I’m wearing.

  “Oh, God, Jade.” He guides my hand and slips it into the fine lace that leaves little to the imagination. “Touch yourself, Jade. Imagine that it’s me touching you. It excites me to imagine myself inside you. Watching you will be enough for me for now. I’ve been watching you, delighting in you for two weeks.” He moves my hand up and down, back and forth, for a few seconds. “Make yourself come. Come to my voice, to my words. I want to have you. And I will. Mark my words. This,” he says, pushing two fingers inside me, his dusky eyes turning up in a hint of pleasure when I gasp in surprise.

  “Is.” He does it over and over again, increasing in intensity with every touch.

  “Not.” As he utters this last word, he moves it faster and faster until I arch my back and place my other hand over his.

  “Over.”

  “Lucas!” I gasp, shaking from the force of my climax.

  “Come, baby, come,” he heaves in my ear before muffling my cries with his mouth. He holds me until our breathing slows down somewhat. I hear the loud sound of ruffling paper as he mindlessly steps on the sheets that are creased and crumpled all over the ground.

  I feel exposed and embarrassed, lying limp in his arms like I’ve just run a marathon. I haven’t felt this helpless in so long. He’s got me under his spell that I don’t even remember where we are or how we got here. I am swept up in so much emotion that I don’t want it to end this way. I don’t want him to leave without being able to touch him, without being able to please him like he did me. While the consequences of our actions flash in my mind, all my concerns quickly dissipate as soon as I look up into his face.

  I jump off the desk and kneel down on the floor to pick up the debris that is the aftermath of what we’ve done, the symbol of our chaotic relationship. If nothing else, maybe I can put some order to it.

  “I’m sorry,” he says as he bends down to help me collate the torn and wrinkled pages of the documents that have defined my life until tonight.

  “Don’t be.” I turn emotionless and robotic. I’m on a mission to clean this up as reality now begins to brutally take over. “Go ahead and finish packing your stuff up. I’ll run down and get us some food,” I offer, refusing to look at him, fixated at the wreckage in front of me.

  He nods his head dazedly, the look on his face showing me that he, himself, is still processing what just happened between us. He lets go of my hand and pauses to say something, but decides otherwise and reluctantly walks away.

  I can’t help but smile when I notice the pen sticking out of his back pocket.

  LUCAS: GOOD MORNING

  Jade: Hi.

  Lucas: I can’t stop thinking about last night

  Jade: :)

  Lucas: Are you okay?

  Jade: Yes, of course I am

  Lucas: Are you at the office yet?

  “Hi.” He strides in just as I’m about to respond to his text.

  “Hi.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes, I am. Are you?”

  “I don’t want to leave.” But he has to. “Leigh is back for the conference we’re having at 10. He’s been visiting another client while in town. I want to spend time with you before my flight this afternoon. I’ll come back after our meeting, okay?”

  “Okay. Lucas, about last night—”

  He intentionally ignores me, standing by my desk with his hands on his hips. The tone of his voice transposes, turning disconnected and businesslike. “Jade, after I leave here, it might be best that you don’t know what my next steps are regarding the merger so you remain uninvolved going forward. Given what happened between us, it allows you plausible deniability. Is your phone a work phone?”

  “Yes, is yours?”

  “Yes. We shouldn’t talk about work when we’re on personal time. Don’t tell me what you’re doing, what you’re working on, and I’ll do the same.”

  “Yes, that makes sense.” I know just how to lighten up the mood between us. “I think I’m going to call you 007. Secret Agent.”

  It works. A huge grin crosses his face and his eyes begin to smile again. “Ha! I like that. And which Bond girl do you want to be?”

  “Anyone but Moneypenny.”

  “Why not Moneypenny? She’s not technically a Bond girl, but I like her. The other women came and went with each new movie, but she stayed a constant in his life. Besides, you’re hotter than any one of them because you’re real!”

  He turns pensive all of a sudden and brushes his hand against mine. Quickly, I pull away since the door to my office is wide open.

  “I’ll see you at the meeting,” he mumbles as he walks out the door.

  Two hours later, we’re lined up along a large conference room table, the representatives of MT Media on one end of the table and the Executive Team of Warner Consulting on the other, for a closing meeting to discuss next steps now that the plan has been drafted.

  Lucas starts out by thanking our staff for a job well done. “I especially want to thank Ms. Richmond for accommodating us while we worked on the draft. She went above and beyond what we expected of your firm. Her studies and proposed plan of action were like nothing we have ever seen before.” His deep brown eyes never leave mine. They drill a hole straight into my heart. No matter who addresses him, no matter whom he speaks to, he keeps his eyes on me.

  I nod my head in acknowledgment. “Thank you, Mr. Martinez. It was a pleasure working with you.”

  More small talk ensues. It’s interesting to see him in action. His charm and easy demeanor have everyone eating out of his hand by the time the meeting is over. More than anything, he comes across as compassionate and considerate. He is respectful of the older executives and seems genuinely excited to be working with all of us. After we all stand up to leave, Leigh commandeers his attention with strict instructions, “Lucas. We’re out of here in ten minutes.”

  “Bro, our flight doesn’t leave till five!” He sounds panicked, worried. He lifts his brows and shakes his head, as if trying to deny what Leigh has just said.

  “I schedule
d another meeting with the lawyers at their office. We’ll proceed to the airport from there. Pack up. We’re heading out.”

  Everyone stands around to listen to their conversation, each of us concentrating on his reaction. Lucas glances at me, his eyes attempting to communicate something I don’t register. I’m too caught up in my own misery to help him out with his. This is going to be our goodbye. He and I in the midst of ten other people who have no clue of the chaos that we have willingly started together.

  He remains standing by the doorway as people file out one by one, watching for me, waiting for me. When I reach the point next to him, he leans over discreetly, his voice sad and angry at the same time. “I’ll call you from the airport.”

  I mask my face with a veil of professionalism. “Lucas,” I say, “it’s been a pleasure working with you.” I extend my hand to shake his before turning my back and walking away.

  By the time I get back to my office after stopping over to update the other team members, he’s gone.

  I try to convince myself it’s all for the best. It can never go anywhere. Two weeks of my life shouldn’t be too hard to shake off.

  LEYA AND I are stuck in a four-hour planning session for the rest of the afternoon. Although I feel sad, I begin to realize that occupying myself would be the best way to cast aside what had happened in the last two weeks. I’m actually excited at the prospect of leaving the office on time today. Where will I go? Shopping? To the gym? At exactly four o’clock in the afternoon, the table starts to shake. It’s my phone, vibrating like mad. I turn it over to check out who’s calling.

  Lucas.

  Leya eyes me suspiciously. “Who is it?”

  “No one. Keep going.” I push the phone away from me. “Steve, what were you saying about the graph that you just put up on the screen?”

  It rings again. This time, I pick it up and hold it up to my face while watching his name and phone number flash across the screen. I feel like I’m in high school. Let him go into voicemail. I want to record his voice on my phone. And he does.