by Anna Premoli
Mark remains motionless at the foot of the bed, watching me with a look that could only be classified as determined. He takes off his sweater and begins to unbutton his shirt. His movements are intentionally slow – so slow that it seems to take forever before he’s standing there bare-chested in front of me. The sight of his smooth, flawless skin takes my breath away. And to think that I was trying to stop myself…
I rise up onto my knees and approach him. Too enchanted to resist his allure, I reach out and I run my fingers along that hairless chest. His muscles contract as I pass over them, while he groans in ecstasy and closes his eyes.
I’d always thought I wasn’t attracted to Korean men. I’d always presumed that their kind of beauty was just unable to arouse my desire for some reason. But right now, in front of this vision, I’m forced to admit that I have changed my ideas entirely – or else this man is just something out of the ordinary, capable of overturning my certainties, because he is, without a doubt, the most sensual being upon whom I have ever laid eyes. I get out of breath merely at the touch of his skin.
I lay my other hand on his chest and I get close enough to be able to put my lips just below his shoulder, then run my tongue along his body until I get to his neck, which I gently bite with a hint of malice, startling him. His hands, which until that moment have been immobile, hold me, and I can sense his desire to possess me.
“Maddison…” he whispers, burying his face in my hair. He breathes in my scent before seeking my mouth again with his own. I notice with a hint of satisfaction that his kisses are slowly losing all trace of that sense of control that seems to dominate every aspect of his life.
I let myself fall backwards, dragging him with me onto the bed. His body and mine fit together perfectly.
Our clothes are beginning to be a real obstacle, and in a few brief movements, all that remains of what we were wearing is a pair of black panties and some baggy blue boxer shorts that cannot hide just how far we have ventured.
Now there is just a tangle of arms and legs, of hands that weave and touch, of lips that tease, and when his tongue begins to take in every centimetre of the inside of my thigh, I’m about to rip away that one, stupid remaining garment. The amused expression in his eyes reveals how conscious he is of my frustration.
“Be patient,” he murmurs.
“To hell with patience!” I exclaim in exasperation, sitting up quickly and reversing our positions. I make him lie down and free him of those bloody boxer shorts that were really beginning to get on my nerves.
I caress him repeatedly, watching his chest rise with increasing speed and enjoying the expression of longing on his face. Revenge can be very sweet, I reflect, as I swap my hand for my mouth. He closes his eyes and his hand runs through my hair, undecided as to whether to push me away or to imprison me forever. After an inner struggle he interrupts that intimate kiss and raises himself up on his elbows to look at me.
It was probably inevitable. Right now I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to, because I don’t think I’ve ever experienced anything like this before.
His eyes stare at me, questioningly, waiting for some kind of tacit confirmation. He asks with his eyes rather than with words, perhaps for fear of breaking the spell. My point of no return must be very clear to him because shortly afterwards he jumps up off the bed to look for something in the pocket of his trousers on the floor.
Damn! I almost forgot! I am shocked at myself – I don’t know how I could have forgotten that. This man has got me in such a spin that I’ve forgotten about everything else.
In a moment Mark is back: his hands are busily trying to pull off my panties while his lips are on my breasts, sending shivers rushing constantly up and down my body. I watch with misty eyes as his hands prowl over every inch of my body. If this is a dream, I do not want to wake up.
His jet-black hair caresses my stomach. I touch it, fascinated, afraid of finding out that all this is just a mirage, and my loud sigh makes him lift his head. He looks at me, smiles in a sexy way and lies down next to me.
“Please say something, anything,” I plead.
“I thought it was obvious that I’m not really in the mood for talking,” he laughs, hugging me. We are both lying naked on my bed, but I don’t feel at all embarrassed.
“This seems like a really bad idea,” I try to warn him.
“Probably. In fact, definitely,” he admits with a slight frown, but then he kisses me again and I forget about everything. This intimacy with Mark is a complete surprise. I have the feeling that nothing can go wrong from now on.
Without taking his eyes off me, our bodies join as one without even a moment’s hesitation, and he proves himself to be a generous and very intense lover. With a touch of pride, I notice from his expression that he is struggling to control himself – somehow I seem to have totally bewitched him, and the same spell has captivated me too. All he can do is whisper my name while leading us both towards the point of no return with a rhythm that begins calmly and regularly but soon seems to be getting out of control for both of us. I abandon myself with a cry, to which Mark responds with a deep, passionate kiss. Moments later he follows me on this magnificent journey, sinking his mouth into my shoulder. All I can do is let out a deep breath and squeeze him round his waist with a protective gesture. Being lovers always complicates relationships, even the most straightforward ones, never mind one that’s already as complicated as this: Mark is my boss, and he is a difficult and demanding person, a severe and scrupulous man. And I’m just the opposite. I don’t flatter myself that we aren’t completely different. Between us there is nothing more than physical attraction, even though nothing as intense and crazy as this has ever happened to me before.
It’s almost unavoidable that the embarrassment of being naked and panting in front of Mark strikes me as a dirty trick. I knew it could not have been otherwise, given the way things were.
With the passing minutes, his breathing gradually returns to normal.
“You okay?” he asks, without moving.
“I’m not sure,” I admit.
Mark lifts himself up onto his elbows.
“If you want to, we can talk about it now.”
I cannot tell from the tone of his voice if he is serious or tired.
“Isn’t it a bit too late now?”
He laughs. “That depends on what you have in mind…” he whispers. I have never liked sophisms, even less so after sex.
“If by that you’re trying to tell me that it was all a mistake, that it won’t happen again, that you didn’t know what you were doing etc. etc., you can save your breath!” I exclaim angrily.
Mark’s smile cracks instantly. “Has anyone ever actually said that to you?” he asks.
“No,” I admit. “But until now I have never found myself in a situation like this…”
I was about to say ‘relationship’ but fortunately I managed to stop myself in time. We do not have a relationship, and what happened was only a mistake.
Mark’s eyes shine curiously at the sight of the difficulty I obviously find myself in.
“I mean that I do not usually go to bed with people with whom I don’t have a relationship,” I conclude. There, I said it. Even the offending word.
“I understand. And that embarrasses you?” Mark asks me.
“Of course – that and the fact that you have seen me naked,” I say, blushing.
“Are you really that prudish?” he teases.
“Of course I am!” I reply, almost proudly.
“And is there anything I can do to make you feel less uncomfortable?” he asks, sincerely.
“Well, you can start by forgetting about today. Delete all this from your mind,” I go on without thinking about what I am really saying. I do not know how I came up with a sentence like that.
“Beat a retreat?” he asks. His tone is playful, but obviously my statement must have removed a huge burden.
“Put it any way you want, Mark,” I answer, annoyed. If I
have to pretend to be tough then I want to do it properly. Although much of the anger that I’m feeling springs from the fact that he did not try to change my mind. Irrational, I realize, but typically female.
“You are behaving strangely coldly at this moment in time, do you realize that?” he points out. His tone has become attentive and aloof.
Mark pulls away from me and sits on the edge of the bed. Seeing that a chill that has fallen over the room I try to cover myself with the sheet. What he does not seem to realize is that at this precise moment I desperately need to cling to my more rational side. I’m really afraid of turning into one of those cry babies – those hyper-emotional woman that men hate so much.
I just had the most intense sexual experience of my life with someone who does not respect me and for whom it was only a moment of weakness – how can I face the consequences of that without providing myself at least some lifebelt to cling to?
“Don’t you men always dream of dating women who are able to separate sex from emotions?” I ask him defiantly.
“Are you serious? Is that what this is about?” he asks, turning to stare at me.
“Do I look like I’m joking?” I say, staring back at him.
At this Mark gets up and gets dressed at the speed of light. I think he even tries to leave half naked. I daren’t look at him and just sit there staring at some fixed point on the wall.
“Well, since you’re not one to joke, you won’t mind if I go, then, will you. It’s all the same to you anyway, isn’t?” he says angrily.
Great, now we’re both angry. Mark leaves my bedroom before I have time to regret having spoken so rashly. I can hear him crossing the living room with decisive steps and then leaving, quickly, slamming the front door.
I have the impression that I’ve really done it this time.
Chapter 11
New Beginnings
After a lot of hard work, I can finally say that the report on the corporate restructuring is ready. We have spent ages studying how to implement all the additional requests that were made, guided by the illusory idea that the customer is always right – it’s not actually true, but since they do pay our enormous consulting fees, we tend to forgive them pretty much everything. In any case, it should all go fairly smoothly now.
Today is also the last day of the year and in the London office we’d get half a day off. Or even the whole day, if you’re clever enough to wangle it. But we are in Korea, the country that doesn’t even recognize the sacrosanct right to throw a sickie, so I’m not surprised that this morning Mark has gone to discuss the new plan with the customer. Who, luckily, accepted everything enthusiastically.
Mark called the office to give us the good news. The fact that he called Chul Ju and not me didn’t go unnoticed, though. I have been making strenuous efforts to fight off the disappointment I felt when I realized he was avoiding me on purpose.
It’s just gone five o’clock, and the others are on their way out of the office to get themselves ready for the New Year’s Eve party the company has organized, but I’m so tired and demoralized I’m not sure I really want to go.
After everything that’s happened, I feel drained, emotionally and physically. Mark and I are committed to totally ignoring one another as much as possible. If we devoted the same level of commitment to some more noble cause, we could produce exciting results – I don’t know, world peace or something. We are courteous and polite to each other – in short, we’re not ourselves.
“Aren’t you going home to have a rest and get yourself ready?” asks Seung Hee as she turns off her computer. It is obvious that she can’t wait to go to the party.
I sigh in response, envious of her cheerful mood. “I would like to finish this piece of work first,” I explain, even though I’ve actually been staring at the same cell of my excel file for over two hours. I’d never admit this though, not even under torture.
“I know that there is something wrong, Maddison. If you need someone to talk to, remember that I am here for you. You only have to ask.” She gives me a sincere smile.
“Thanks,” I reply, touched by her words. But I’m afraid that I’ll never be ready to talk about Mark. And even if I were, I could never discuss him with any of my colleagues.
Once I’m alone, I try to summon up a bit of concentration, but the silence of the office starts to get on my nerves even more than the chattering of my colleagues. It’s pointless, I might as well occupy my time with something less soul-destroying – something like cleaning the flat.
I’m just about to give up and leave when a noise from behind me makes me jump. Strange, I ought to be the only one still here. Startled, I turn round, prepared to confront the intruder, only to find Mark standing in front of me. I would almost have preferred a thief.
“What are you doing here, Maddison?” he asks gloomily.
“I work here, in case you’ve forgotten. And what are you doing in the office?”
He puts some papers on Chul Ju’s desk. “I decided I’d rather leave the paperwork here. I’m going home now. Are you coming too?”
He seems to find it difficult to get the question out.
“Do I have to?”
I don’t want to make things easier for him – I’m just busting for an argument.
“Of course you do. So let’s both of us go home and make ourselves presentable for the party tonight,” he says, frustrating my desire to have a row.
“Yeah, the party…” I sigh, sounding anything but enthusiastic. For a moment I’d almost forgotten about it. “I promised Thomas I’d go with him,” I announce.
I see him turn up his nose in disapproval.
“Thomas is somebody you really shouldn’t be wasting your time on. Although I do understand,” he reproaches me nastily, “it didn’t work out with Andrew so you’ve thrown yourself at the feet of the only one left.”
Sometimes he sounds just like my mother, and that’s something that certainly doesn’t work in his favour.
“You do know that you’re not in any position to tell me who I can and who I can’t go out with, don’t you?”
“Oh, there’s plenty I’d like to say on that point…” he replies, crossing his arms defiantly.
I turn off my computer, pick up my bag and jacket and stride off toward the exit, muttering under my breath, “And in that case, so would I, my dear.”
“Of course you would, you always have something to complain about,” he replies, following me like a shadow.
“Mark, what is your problem tonight?”
I am shocked by his behaviour – over the last five days he has kept a very low profile with me.
“Why, do I seem particularly different from usual?” he asks, feigning surprise. But there’s a hint of something else in his tone.
“You’re angry,” I note as the elevator reaches the ground floor. Walking quickly and without exchanging another word we slip into the subway. There is a festive mood in the air, and I cast a melancholy look at a group of young girls, all dressed up to the nines to welcome in the new year. Lucky them, they look really happy.
“Yes, I am angry,” he confirms, after a prolonged period of silence.
I look at him in amazement.
“Why?”
“Sometimes you ask really stupid questions, Maddison,” he snaps. He has decided that he’s going to see the year out by insulting me, apparently. But I have no intention of going for the bait.
“Insult me if you like, I really couldn’t care less.”
“Since when did you become so mature?”
“Since you started being so grumpy,” I answer.
“And would you like to help me feel better?” he asks sarcastically. It is obvious that nothing I can say will do any good. I’m sure this question is some kind of trap. I give him a glare.
“Knock it off, Mark,” I warn him.
We are still fighting when we reach the landing that separates our apartments.
“I’m taking you to the party tonight,�
� he informs me paternalistically.
“Thanks for the offer, but I don’t need a nanny.”
“I wasn’t offering, I was simply informing you.”
He can be the most obnoxious man in the world when he wants to be – God obviously doesn’t want me to forget that.
“Don’t insist,” I say, with a threatening look.
“Well, I am insisting.”
He stands in front of me defiantly. It looks like the weather forecast for this evening is going to be stormy.
“Do you realize that you’re behaving completely irrationally?” I ask him, exasperated by his weird behaviour.
For a moment he seems to almost soften, but then comes back to his senses.
“Me, irrational?” he exclaims incredulously. His face is as bleak and empty as the sands of the Sahara.
“Extremely irrational, now that I think about it…”
“So don’t think, then!” he says, his voice rising. The silence that follows is only thanks to my incredible powers of self-control. I open the front door of my flat.
“You know what? Do what you like, Mark,” I snap at him, and slam the door. I am very pleased with myself for having left that damn landing with my head held high.
A few hours later, my cleaning – a socially responsible act that I only do when I’m on the verge of going crazy – is interrupted by a knock at the door.
Will it be Thomas or Mark? In all honesty I don’t know which would be worse.
“Who is it?” I ask in spite of myself.
No reply. Oh my God, what do I do now? Should I open up or not? I walk over to the peephole to get a look at whoever it is, but can’t see anything except a black coat – they’re too close to the door for me to be able to identify them. Damn it, I’ll have to open the door to solve the mystery.
Mark stands there before me: sullen, grumpy-looking, but still him. And deep down I knew it would be. I try not to dwell on the fact that, in all honesty, I actually wanted it to be him. Being too honest with yourself is over rated, as far as I’m concerned.