Ditching The Dream (Dream Series)

by Isabelle Peterson

  His generosity was my undoing. The tears streamed down my face. “I’m so honored to have met, and gotten to know you,” I blubbered.

  “Same goes for me.” He kissed my forehead again and said, “Now promise me you won’t spend all day crying. I won’t. Because to cry would mean that I regret what we had – what we have. I think I knew somewhere that we were headed to this place. I’m good, Liz. Really.”

  I smiled through my tears, hugging him tightly before he kissed my cheek chastely and walked out the door.

  My heart stopped. How could someone who had been in my life for such a short span of time be so important? I collapsed on my bed and cried. A good cry. I had done the right thing. A tough decision, but an adult decision. The right decision.

  Okay, so I lied. I wasn’t two seconds in my own apartment before the first tear found its way out of my eye. I cried in the shower, too. I showered longer than normal so I could get it all out.

  There will never be another Lizzie. Forgiving. Courageous. Feisty. The things she taught me about myself, I will never forget. She has raised the bar for the women out there.

  I will stay her friend though. I didn’t lie about that. And I will help her in any way I can. But she has stamped my heart with a tattoo of her own.

  CHAPTER 40

  I was grateful that I had to work Thursday night, or I would have spent the rest of the day crying, dressed in yoga pants, and eating ice cream. That was until happy hour started. Then I would have switched to wine or the hard stuff. I know I had done the right thing, but it still hurt like hell.

  I had grown so fond of Kevin in just a matter of days. I didn’t think it was love, and the age thing shouldn’t have mattered to me, but it did. He should have babies, and I was done. Not only did I not care in the very least to endure another pregnancy or revisit the diaper stage, I couldn’t. When Phoebe was born, I had gotten my tubes tied. Babies were not in my cards. And they should definitely be in Kevin’s.

  I put on my running clothes and headed out. As I ran, things did become clearer with regards to Kevin and I was feeling better. Maybe it was just the runner’s high, but I knew that breaking up with Kevin was a good thing.

  As I finished the six mile loop around Central Park, my thoughts turned to Jack, things getting a little more complicated. I decided to keep on running.

  I still couldn’t wrap my head about what our relationship was. At first, I thought it was only a sexual attraction. But as time passed, I came to realize that it was about companionship, too. True intimacy.

  I was saddened to learn that his relationships since coming here thirty years ago were all superficial. That women were essentially using him for his fame or trying and get some of their own. Granted, I didn’t know Jack very well, but looking in his eyes, I could tell that being used was a major heart-break for him. When I revealed that I knew who he was, not just the famous-super-model-turned-modeling-agency-mogul, but the guy from a poor ranch in rural, Charter Oaks, Colorado, with a bad reputation, and that I still wanted to be with him, that brought a warmth to his eyes that tempered the fire.

  I had to wonder if Jack’s Dom tendencies stemmed from that conundrum. Women using him, so he decided to use them? But I was using him, wasn’t I? To run away from who I had been the past twenty some years?

  Which led me to Greg. Where was his thought process these days? Had he realized that I was more than a housekeeper and hole-in-the-mattress? Did he miss my companionship?

  I promised Phoebe that I would call her dad, so I cut through the park and headed home. It was two o’clock anyway and I had to eat something and get to work in a couple of hours.

  Showered and dressed for work, I picked up my phone and rang Greg’s cell phone.

  “Bets?” he answered.

  “Hi,” I responded. My voice sounded so small. Why was that?

  “Did Phoebe give you my message?” His voice sounded small as well.

  “She did. Thank you for remembering.”

  “What did you do for your birthday?”

  I smiled. Was it really only two days ago? “Well, Phoebe woke me up singing happy birthday with a cupcake she bought. I had a lazy morning, then Phoebe and I went to see The Book of Mormon on Broadway. It was amazing!” Not as amazing as hot sex on a New York City rooftop, I mused.

  “You were always wanting to go to shows, weren’t you?” What was that? He’d heard me all those years? “I’m glad you got to see a good one. Phoebe sounded like she had a good time. A concert with your neighbor. Then college tours and an internship interview at NBC set up by your friend Jack. Sounds like he really put her in touch with some amazing opportunities.”

  My mouth went dry. It didn’t take long for the conversation to come to Kevin and Jack. My heart was pounding in my chest. How do I respond?

  I decided to go with the biggest threat, to diffuse that bomb first. “Yeah, Jack is something else. Did Phoebe tell you how we know each other?”

  “Something about him dating your sister in high school? That would make him almost fifty?”

  “Fifty-two. He’s a couple years older than Suzie. And he didn’t date Suzie, but Suzie’s best friend, Jenny.”

  We fell into an uncomfortable silence. I didn’t know what to say. Phoebe was right. He sounded tired.

  “Are you getting what you need from this – this – what is this, Elizabeth?”

  I paused. Was I getting what I needed? Knowledge that I didn’t need to lean on anyone? Sure, a little. I mean, I haven’t even had to pay my rent on time yet. I got a job. I was good at it, but still I’d only been a couple of weeks on the job. Not like it was going to get much harder or anything.

  Relationships? Well, I was messing that up pretty well. At least I’d put one of those to rest, like an independent grown-up would do.

  And this. What was this? A separation? A pre-cursor to divorce? I didn’t have a clue.

  “I think so,” I whispered back.

  “I miss you.”

  “What do you miss about me?”

  “I don’t know,” he snapped. “Everything. I feel like half a person here. I don’t know what I’m doing. I hired the cleaning ladies to come twice a week. So I guess I suck at keeping house. I’m sick of eating microwave dinners. I’ve lost my good cuff links. I’m so tired I cut myself shaving the other day. I don’t sleep well when you’re not next to me, Bets.”

  We fell silent again as I considered his situation. I was somewhere between confused and stunned. It sounded like he missed me, but for purely selfish reasons, other than the ‘I feel like half a person,’ bit. It still sounded like he just needed someone to take care of the house and to sleep with at night and he’d be fine.

  “How much more time will you need?”

  “I don’t know. It’s only been a couple weeks. I’m still trying to see if I’m managing my money well. And while my job isn’t complicated, I’d like to work my way away from tables and handle the bar, so there is room for advancement. I don’t think you understand how little confidence I really have, Greg.”

  “But I need you,” he whispered.

  Suddenly I had Jack in my head. ‘A Dom wants to be needed and a sub needs to be wanted.’ Greg didn’t want me. He needed me, but didn’t want me. That hurt. It hurt deep.

  “Don’t you love me anymore, Elizabeth? I love you.”

  I sighed and thought about it. In fact, I had said it in my letter. “Greg, I do love you. You are the father of our children. You’ve been generous, and kind, and have been more than fair. I love you, but I don’t know that I’m in love with you. Does that make sense? And you say you need me, but I don’t want to be needed. I need to be wanted.”

  “What in the hell is the difference, Bets!” he barked.

  And you should want to be needed! I shouted back to him in my head. But I don’t need you. I don’t think about you much at all!

  He didn’t get it. It was quite clear, to me at least. I glanced at the clock. I grabbed my keys and purse and headed ou
t the door, letting the silence hang and grow like a cancer.

  “Think about the difference, Greg. I’m on my way to work right now. I have to go.”

  “Okay. I’ll think about it,” he whispered. “And for what it’s worth, I am still in love with you.”

  “Bye, Greg. I’ll talk to you later.” I ended the call without waiting for him to reply.

  I thought about what he’d said. He said he is still in love with me. Was that true? Or was he simply in love with the idea of me?

  The whole way to work I thought about it. He didn’t talk about me or to me the way Jack or Kevin did. He didn’t talk about me this conversation at all. Not really. It was all about him! He didn’t want me. He needed me.

  The thought kind of made me chuckle. In a twisted way, that made me the Dom in the relationship. But his need for me was superficial. It wasn’t the way I needed Jack.

  I needed the way Jack looked at me. Jack could probably give enough of a description of every part of me to a sketch artist, down to the most minute detail, and get an accurate drawing. Jack had been able to find clothes that fit me perfectly – yes it was part of his job to be able to do so, but if he didn’t really look at me, he wouldn’t have known what to get… size, cut, color.

  I needed the way he talked to me. He commanded things from me. He wasn’t wishy-washy about it, even if I was unsure of what he asked of me. I didn’t want to have drinks, he made it happen — because he wanted to have drinks with me. We had dinner because he wanted to have dinner with me.

  I needed the way Jack made me feel safe, confident, and excited. He knew what he wanted and he asked for it. And his confidence in asking me, boosted my confidence. He never pushed me too far. And I was always willing to give more. I was his Stradivarius.

  And even though I had ended things with Kevin, and things were nothing like being with Jack, Kevin had wanted me, too. Yet, he let me be strong and take the lead. He made me ask for things. He made me feel as delicious as the chocolate cake.

  Strolling into work, I was fueled with a new sense of self. I knew what I needed. And I needed to be wanted.

  Her words echoed through my head. “I don’t want to be needed. I need to be wanted.” What a bunch of bullshit! Want. Need. They’re synonymous. New York was messing with her head.

  I walked over to the mini-bar in my office and poured myself a gin and tonic. Draining the last of the gin out of the bottle, I chucked it into the trash can. I’d have to ask Morgan to buy more. I added the tonic water, which was flat. Shit. Just my luck. I fished a lime wedge out of the small box. I squeezed the lime, and the damn thing squirted me in the eye! Shit that hurts! The world was really truly against me today.

  I sucked on my shitty cocktail and let her words continue to roll through my head.

  I need her. Like I needed to breathe. Like I needed food.

  How could I translate that into the ‘wanted’ she was looking for?

  CHAPTER 41

  After leisurely drinking my coffee Friday morning, I was starting to get giddy about tonight’s opera. Carmen was one of my favorites, well, the music at least. Greg had never taken me to any because he thought operas were boring.

  I met Anand downstairs and he drove me to the spa where Jack had set me up for my pampering. Jack had arranged for the works. I passed on someone doing my hair and make-up, those are things I liked to do. Still, from head to toe, I was attended to: a French gel manicure, a paraffin pedicure with silver polish, a rejuvenating facial, bikini wax, and culminating with a full body hot rock and deep tissue massage. I was the most relaxed I had ever been in my entire life.

  Lying on the massage table, I’d had an inspiration and had Anand make a quick stop so I could make one little purchase on our way back to my apartment.

  I got home about three o’clock. Plenty of time to get ready for Jack picking me up at four. I started to play the Royal Opera House recording of Carmen while I went to work on my hair and make-up. In style with the dress, I felt a sassy 1920s inspired shape was best. I slicked my hair down off to the right with a slight curl back to my eye. God, I loved this haircut! I did my make-up to accentuate my almond shaped eyes. I used to think nothing of my eyes until Jack’s comments. A touch of peach blush, clear lip gloss, and I was done. Looking in the mirror, I saw what I believed Jack saw. A beautiful woman. My heart skipped a beat.

  Sliding the boxes from under my bed, I recalled getting dressed for Jack in his office earlier this week. Standing naked in front of him and dressing. Hearing and seeing his response. What would he say when he saw the whole package? What was he going to wear? My mouth started to water as I considered that he might be wearing a tuxedo.

  I carefully laid the dress on my bed, then went to get my ‘little purchase.’ I unwrapped the tiny tissue encased package, revealing a tiny salmon colored lace thong. I was tickled to see that the color was nearly an exact match. The second tissue wrapped package held the matching garter belt. Next, a pair of thigh high nude, silk stockings that had just a touch of silver woven into the nylon, and a sexy silver lace top on each leg. I would have bought the sexy bra, but a bra was out of the question since the dress had no back.

  Feeling every bit sexy, I slid the thong over my expertly waxed girly parts. Turning to see my backside in the mirror, I loved how the lace ducked demurely into my crack. I set the garter belt in place, then collected the stockings to work up my legs.

  I imagined that I was putting them on while Jack sat back and watched. I pointed my toe and slowly worked the nylon up my right thigh. As I pulled the delicate material over my temporary tattoo, I smiled, and wondered how Jack would react. I decided to save it until the last moment. And once it was in place, I ran my fingers down my silky, ever-so-softly shimmering, legs. As I repeated the exercise on my left leg, I imagined Jack taking them off… with his teeth.

  Moisture started to pool between my legs and I was becoming completely hot and bothered. I thought about taking my birthday gift out of the drawer and giving myself a once over, but I thought better of it and decided it would be more rewarding to wait and have Jack bring me to orgasm.

  Sliding the dress on and slipping into the crystal boot style shoes, I stood back to look at myself in the full length mirror on the back of the door. I was speechless. I didn’t look like myself. I did, but I looked so much more.

  I practiced walking in the heels, the way Jack’s secretary walked. Confident, straight, and elegant. I found that when I stood nice and tall, the four inch heels were not as difficult as I thought they might be. In the mirror, I noticed my knee pushing through the slit, and spotted that the lace top of the thigh high would just peek out for Jack’s viewing pleasure. I smiled a wicked grin. I loved it. A few strategically placed spritzes of CoCo Channel’s Mademoiselle perfume, and I was ready.

  I had about ten minutes until Jack arrived. The excitement was killing me. I poured myself a glass of Macallan while I waited. As the oaky taste coated my mouth, I imagined it was Jack. I let the drink gently burn down my throat, stoking the fire that had started in my belly. Suddenly the house intercom rang. It was still eight minutes until Jack was supposed to show up. I picked up the phone.

  “Yes?” I answered.

  “Ms. Fairchild, this is Gilbert – the doorman. There is a Mr. Stevens here to see you. He is asking to come up. Is that okay?”

  I didn’t really want him to see my tiny apartment. It would be embarrassing compared to his home.

  “He’s rather insistent that he must come up,” Gilbert continued.

  “Okay,” I sighed. I hung up the phone then quickly dashed around carefully in the heels, making the place as presentable as I could. After closing my bedroom door to hide all the tissues and the Bergdorf boxes, I fluffed the sofa pillows, and put the couple of glasses from the sink in the dishwasher.

  The gentle knock at the door startled me, nearly tossing me off heels. Steeling myself with my hand on the knob, I took a calm, cleansing breath, and answered the door.


  Jack stood there in the hallway just staring at me. I stood just looking at him. I hadn’t seen him for three days, but it as if I hadn’t seen him for three weeks, and I was seeing him all anew. His hair done a little more sophisticatedly. He was wearing a tuxedo with satin lapels that fit him seductively. I could just sit and ogle him for the next hour. He was sex on legs. I wanted to rip his coat off and pull the studs out of his tuxedo shirt with my teeth.

  “It has been a long three days,” he growled. He cleared his throat. “May I come in?” he asked.

  I nodded, unable to speak, and stepped aside.

  “No,” he stopped. “Turn and walk. I want to see the back.”

  A slow smile spread across my face. I pivoted, ever so slowly, keeping my eyes on Jack. I loved watching his eyes trace down my spine, over my rear. He swallowed, his jaw clenching. I faced forward, not wanting to fall and break the spell that had been cast, and started to walk.

  “Stop,” he growled as I reached the living room. I stopped and stood, my heart racing, my stomach doing little flip flops as I moved along under his control. “Turn.”

  Again, I pivoted as slowly as before. Facing him again, I raised my head and saw that he’d entered the apartment and, as quietly as a church mouse, closed the door behind him. He was now leaning on that door, taking my breath away.

  We locked eyes and he strode confidently toward me. I felt like the prey, and I couldn’t wait to be devoured—but after the show. I held my hands up, and stepped out with my left foot, sliding my knee through the long slit that graced that leg. I saw his eyes flit to the top of that slit and the hint of lace I’d planted. He licked his lips quickly.

  “Later. You can rip the gown off later… as in after the show.”

  “Woman, you are not playing fair,” he chided. “And I think I made a mistake in selecting that gown for you.” My face dropped. I loved this gown. How could he say that? “Every man will be distracted. And every woman will hate you,” he explained, his lips curling into a smirk.