“Wesley Jacobs. If you think I am walking into that office, past the receptionist that swallowed your cock for breakfast, to sit behind a desk for the rest of the day, in my current, very obviously been fucked state, you have lost your damn marbles, baby.” I chuckle.
His large warm hands cover the top of my bare shoulders before turning me around to face him. He stares at me with confusion, bringing his hands to cup my face and tilt it back. “Who swallowed my cock, angel?”
I shake my head and try to pull it from his hands to no avail. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter anyway.” I exhale a long sigh. “It’s none of my business what happens between you and Rachel, Wes. However, know this. As long as there is a you and Rachel, there will be no you and I. No fucking, no flirting, and none of this ‘Mine’ bullshit. This,” I motion at my appearance. “If this ever happens again. I’m done. Mark my words, I will walk away from Jacobs Publishing and I won’t look back.”
His expression remains confused. “Right, okay. But who the fuck swallowed my cock? Or supposedly swallowed my cock? Excuse my confusion and repetitive question, but the last person who swallowed my cock was you, Ms. Reese. So, please enlighten me. Who. Swallowed. My. Cock?”
I blink up at him dumbly for several seconds before responding. “Rachel. This morning. She met me right outside your office before I came in with bitch, slut, and lipstick smeared across her face. The only thing she was trying to wipe away was the lipstick.”
“She didn’t suck my cock! I’d rather choke the bitch with my hands to shut her up than with my cock. What the hell are you… Did she say she sucked my cock?” He growls the last part out.
“Oh my fucking God! Wesley, seriously? It doesn’t matter.” I slap the emergency button and hit P for parking garage. After I yank my skirt down and my top up, I wrap my top around me and cross my arms under my chest. Facing the elevator doors I shove the words out around the pain splintering my chest, “Just, leave me alone, okay? I thought I could handle you. Hell, I was even excited to get the chance to. But Wes, you and I are too much. Way too much.” I look over my shoulder at him as the doors open. Before walking out, I whisper, “Let’s just stop before one or both of us isn’t able to walk away from this alive.”
I grab my bags from the floor and quickly walk to my car. As soon as I close my car door and lock them, my face falls into my hands.
And I cry…for the first time in my life, I sob as my heart shatters.
Before I can get all the way into our apartment, Trina is practically suffocating me with her mother hen clucking. “I have been beside myself! At wits end worrying where in the hell you were! Wesley called from the office saying you were upset.” Her eyes scan me from head to toe, widening more and more until landing back to mine. Behind the hand she has covering her mouth, she whispers, “Jesus Christ, you were raped? Again?” ‘Again wasn’t a whisper, it was more of a shriek.
“No, sissy. I wasn’t raped. Again. More like thoroughly fucked, ‘Love in an Elevator’ style.” I smile sadly at her and squeeze her hands. “I just need a shower. And a bed. I’ll be fine, T. Promise.”
I walk around her and head towards the bathroom, when the saint I will love for eternity says, “I’ll pour us some wine and meet you in your room with a cup full of olives.”
Don’t ask about the olives. For as long as I’ve known her crazy ass, Trina has been popping olives between her sips of wine.
I feel a thousand times better after my shower. With the tears, cum, and most of the self-loathing washed away, I step into my boy shorts and slip a cami on. After I brush my teeth, floss, and pile my hair into a bun, I walk from the bathroom making a beeline for my bed.
I walk into my room and see Trina sitting on the foot of my bed. She tosses a green olive into her mouth. Before she bites into it, she talks around it. “Wine’s on the table, baby girl.”
I scoop it from the table, taking a couple sips before setting it on my nightstand and flopping into bed. “This day sucked ass.”
“Ready to talk about it?” Her eyebrow raises.
“Okay, so I lied. Or crossed my arms behind my head while crossing all my fingers at the same time I crossed my legs, blatantly in front of you, as I made a solemn vow. I’d apologize, but really, in all fairness I would’ve known exactly what you were doing AND I’d have called your ass out on it.” I give her a cheesy smile before telling her, “I love you! I really, really, really do. But I’m not ready to talk about it.”
She continues staring at me over the rim of her glass. “I’ll be ready to talk about it when it isn’t too painful for me to even try and put it into words. Better?”
“Honest?” She counters.
I make a show of nothing being crossed, “Cross my heart and hope to die.”
“Alright. As soon as it doesn’t hurt though, I want all the deets. Full disclosure. Every single damn thing, you hear me, sis?”
“Absolutely. Thanks for understanding. You don’t know how much I appreciate it, T.”
She sighs before standing up and making her way out of my room. “Get some rest. You’ve been fucked beyond all common sense. Believe me, rest is exactly what your poor little self needs.” Before pulling the door closed, she smiles at me, “Night, Stell.”
“Night.” I whisper before rolling over. Instantly unconsciousness steals over me, and at three forty five on Monday afternoon, I fall to sleep.
Chapter 20
Monsters Under the Bed
When you’re eleven years old and feel love for another human being for the first time in your inadequate young life, you descend effortlessly into a web of obsession.
The demons scratching just beneath the surface of my exterior no longer sought blood. Instead, they pleaded for glimpses of Beauty.
Beauty sadly smiling. Beauty dolefully singing the song I learned, listening to religiously, and hummed myself to sleep with every night.
Anywhere Beauty was, I could be found in the shadows, if one were to ever look or pay attention. Thankfully by eleven, I’d mastered the art of concealing myself.
And because the demons and I loved Beauty, and my social skills left much to be desired, I reverted to the only thing I knew … I watched.
I watched Beauty more than I watched the back of my own eyelids.
I watched Beauty more than I studied my Anatomy and Physiology bible.
When I wasn’t watching Beauty, I had my nose in English Lit book after English Lit book… trying in vain to find the confidence, the depth of my feelings, and the words to convey both…only to fail and give up, time and time again.
I stopped sleeping in my bed the very night that followed the day I heard her sing and I slipped on the roof trying to get closer to her.
Every night from that day on, I took my pillow and a blanket and hid them under her bed. During her bath time, I would stuff toys and clothes under my comforter and mold them into a child’s sleeping form. Then, before Beauty was finished with her bath, I would slip beneath her bed and become the epitome of still silence.
Some nights she slept peacefully. Most nights she screamed and sobbed, speaking broken hushed words of blood seeping, of blood covering, of blood dripping from her hands. And she screamed, begging for the screams to stop.
Every single night she screamed and shook the bed frame above me, I fell more in love with my Beauty.
Now that I’ve told you the first time I fell in love with Beauty, allow me to tell the story of the first time my love twisted into stained hate.
Chapter 21
Talk
Two days. I’ve done nothing except pace my office, stalking back and forth, wearing the plush carpet thin for two days.
Sleep evades me. Motivation to do anything other than concentrate on the burdens racking my every thought is nonexistent. I strike out at anyone and everyone that dares address me. I came within inches of removing Rachel’s head yesterday when she spat at me in a sneering tone. “I cannot believe you are letting that disgrace to society needle h
er way under your skin. What is wrong with you, Wesley? Have you finally lost your damn mind? Is that it?”
She left after I explained that every time I looked at her all I saw was how much of a leech and failure of a decent human being she truly was.
And she hasn’t returned. Thank God.
I should go home. I should shower. I should probably eat.
Instead, I pour myself a tumbler of scotch and dial Stella’s number.
“Ello?” Trina answers before shuffling the phone around. “Shit, damn, hell. Sorry! Hello?”
“Everything all right?” I ask.
“Oh, hey. Yeah, dropped the damn phone. She’s asleep. In case you were wondering. I know you aren’t calling for my stellar conversation skills.” She laughs.
“Of course I am, Trina. You sell yourself short, love. However, now that we’re on the topic, is she okay? Has she said anything? Is she coming to work tomorrow?”
“Jesus Christ, Wes. Pipe down on the third degree for a second. Yes, she woke up around lunch. I managed to get a cup of broth in her and extract the words, “I’m going to work tomorrow.” But that’s it. So no, she hasn’t told me jack and I have a shoulder, actually two available if you feel the need to pour your heart out. And… Sorry, Wes. But I don’t know if she’s okay, to be completely honest with you.”
A sigh escapes my mouth and I nod before saying, “Thanks, Trina. I appreciate you talking to me. Let me know if y’all need anything.”
After I hang up, I contemplate on continuing to stalk or head home. Shit. I really do need a shower and a shave. Plus, I’ve gone through all the scotch I had hidden in my office.
I drank my weight in fucking Johnny Walker last night when I got home. I showered, shaved, and sat in my huge oxford leather chair and commenced drinking until I drowned the sniveling voice in my head that constantly begs and urges me to snatch Stella from her apartment and fuck her so stupid she can’t think straight. At which point, I would be made to care for her until my dying day.
Which is complete and utter absurdity.
I roll - literally roll - until I fall from my bed landing on all fours and crawl to the bathroom.
I shower again, however it does nothing to clean the scotch from my sweat glands. I grab the phone in the master bedroom and call Myrta, my housekeeper that stays during the week. “Mr. Wesley, good morning, love. How are you?”
“Hey Myrta, not so hot. I need you to have a Bloody Mary made for breakfast. Oh, and make sure Travis will be on time to drive me to work today too.”
“Ohhhh, Mr. Wesley.” She tsks. “Youth does not sit in your corner for long. Why do you continue to spat in her direction?” Her English isn’t broken, however her Spanish accent twists and cuts the words making them sound as Spanish as the Mexican town where Myrta was born. When she’s pissed? Her capability to speak English is thrown out the window.
“I don’t recall spitting at anyone.” I chuckle. “I’ll be down soon.”
God bless Myrta’s soul! She had one Bloody Mary on the kitchen counter and another in my to-go coffee thermos.
I walk into my office sipping the cure to my hangover and smile when I see Rachel isn’t here. I hope our little tiff will cause her to quit. Without a two week notice. After I put a call in to my business manager requesting a temp secretary, I set the phone in the cradle only to pick it directly back up when it rings. “Wesley Jacobs.”
“Wes, what’s up man? It’s Jude.”
“Jude? Is there something I can do for you?” I ask as I sink into my chair.
“Umm… Maybe. Have you heard from Stell?”
Speak of the devil and she will appear.
Stella walks into my office smiling. The urge to toss her across my lap and spank her little ass to kingdom come is one I am barely able to restrain. “Nope. Sure haven’t. Now, is there something that I can help you with?” I say, enunciating the ‘I’.
“Damn. I’ve been trying to call her since Monday evening. Well, when she comes in, give her a message for me, yeah?”
Hell. No.
“Sure thing, buddy.” I smile like the devil across my desk at Stella.
“Just have her call me. That’d be great. Thanks, Wes.” Click.
I gently set the phone down without removing my eyes from Stella’s or allowing the devious smile to slide from my face.
She nervously sinks into her chair while tucking her hair behind her ears before she whispers, “Hey.”
“Angel, you look beautiful today. Did you know that?” I stand slowly from my seat keeping my eyes locked on hers until her nerves cause her to glance down and break eye contact.
“I didn’t. But thank you for the compliment. Wesley, I can’t do this.” Her voice pleads and her eyes connect with mine as I round the corner of my desk. In two quick strides, I’m in front of her and sinking to my knees.
“Shh…” I cup her face in my hands and brush my lips against hers before pulling back and looking into her eyes. “Listen to me. I want you. Only you. I don’t know nor do I give a fuck what Rachel said or did to make you think otherwise. Now, this is the important part. You are to remain silent and hear me out. I let you get your rant out, even as preposterous as it was. You will allow me the same. Understood?”
She nods before speaking. “Yes, I understand.”
“Us - we are going to be hard work. We’re both so fucked up that no one wants or understands us. And the ones that are ignorant enough to believe they do, we immediately discredit their obtuse asses. So yes, WE are going to be hard, WE will go at each other like ravenous beasts overcome with anger, with passion, with hate, with love and do you know why angel?” I continue without giving her a chance to answer. “Because that is the breed of people we are. Everything which is important to us we give of ourselves hundred percent. Opinions are important to us, being right is important to us, and WINNING is important to us.” I slide a hand from the side of her face and bury it in her hair, fisting and pulling, “Oh yes angle, we will fight.”, I mutter crushing her mouth to mine.
Our tongues circle, our mouths swallow, while our lungs breathe each other’s breath. And just like every time I’m with Stell, weird crazy shit starts running through my mind. Chasing away ideas of ever letting her go.
When her teeth sink into my lower lip before sucking it into her mouth, I moan and pull her lips open with my thumb on her chin. Devouring her mouth.
I pull away from her swollen lips and smile. “We will fight, angel. We’ll fight hard. But it’ll be worth every strike below the belt, every spiteful word uttered . When we love, when we fuck, when our passions rip through us with wild intensity, it’ll obliterate all of the bad. I want all your hate, Stell just as much as I want all your love. This, Us, is going to happen angle and there isn’t a damn thing you can do to stop it, angel.”
I stand and kiss the top of her head before tipping her head back with my fingertips under her chin. “Is that understood?”
She nods, swallowing and whispers, “Yes.”
After I’m sitting behind my desk, I clear my throat steeling myself for ‘the talk’ although every atom in my body is screaming trying prevent my words, “I’m not asking you for forever, Stell. Honestly, I don’t think I’m made for forever’s; but I don’t want to put limits on us either. You and I are like a candle burning at both ends, or a star blazing through the fucking night sky, so we’ll just let this - let us - burn and blaze until there’s nothing left.”
“I…I like that. It makes it less scary somehow.”
I smile at her, elation fills my soul, happiness saturates me from the inside out. “Good girl.”
Our little talk on that Wednesday seemed to clear up all of our misunderstandings. She’s spent every night at my place since. I was only able to keep myself pinned behind the desk for thirty minutes before I had her pinned over the desk, riding her sexy little ass straight to kingdom cum from behind.
Stell and I have been going pretty strong for the last few months. Just like I p
redicted, we fight like cats and dogs. But Jesus, Mary, and Joseph… When it’s good? It is the best damn good anyone has ever felt.
I knew from the beginning Stella had a submissive nature under her façade of steel.
Tonight’s agenda is a charity dinner I must attend and although my father is also attending, the fact I’m going with my angel has me smiling in the mirror. After I tighten my tie I sit on the dressing chair to slide my feet in my dress shoes.
I’m not sure why but anxiety is tingling through my nerve endings. I pour a scotch and walk over to the desk in the corner of my room. I dial Myrta while sipping my scotch slowly as I sit behind my desk and pull out Stella’s file. I flip through the pages over and over, rereading each note and connotation. There is something, something Derrick missed or deemed not important, which has been niching, hovering in my mind like mist. I sense the dread of it while reading her pages and attempt to zero in but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared.
“Ola señor Wesley. Are you stashing for your party?” She chuckles at her joke. Because it’s Saturday and Myrta’s usually gone by noon, I know without a doubt she’s tapped into the wine cellar.
Laughing at her I say, “Myrta, I hope stashing is not what Stell thinks when she sees me, but I’ll make sure to fill you in if she does. Is the limo ready?”
“I say stashing. Like handsome, draper. You know? No? Oh, yes, the limo is here. He can drive me after you are at party, sí, Mr. Wesley?”
“Ahh… It’s dashing and dapper. And absolutely, Myrta. In fact, you should grab yourself a bottle of wine from the cellar to take home with you.” I sip the last of my scotch before standing and buttoning my suit jacket. “I’m headed downstairs, Myrta.”
I’m by the door slipping on my over coat, when I catch something out of the corner of my eye causing me to look over my shoulder. I see my tipsy housekeeper half walking half staggering toward me. “Senior Wesley, so dashing you look this night. If I didn’t know you were the Diablo in an ángel’s disfrazar, I show you mi Maria years ago.”
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