by Iona Rose
“Home,” I say, turning to face him. I am once more assaulted by how good he looks. Even now with his hair all mussed up and his face still puffy with sleep he looks so good I want to abandon my plan then just crawl back into bed with him and never leave. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” I add.
“It’s a good job you did though, or I would have woken up to find you gone,” he says.
Nodding, I give him a half smile. “I thought it would be easier this way. You know, we could avoid the awkward goodbyes and all that.”
He pushes himself up onto his elbow and smiles at me. “But we don’t need to do those until Sunday,” he says.
“Huh?” I say stupidly.
“Well, I just thought that seeing how badly we’ve already fucked up, then what’s the harm in fucking up again? And again. And again. We can go back to reality on Monday. I know we have to. But until then, well maybe you could stay. Spend the weekend here with me?”
I open my mouth to say no. To tell him all of the reasons that’s a terrible idea. But what comes out instead is nothing. I feel my head nodding, my feet carrying me back to Brett’s bed.
I know even as I’m lifting up the blanket that I should tell him no. I mean this is crazy. I can’t just stay here. I have to leave. But I don’t say anything.. Instead, I slip back into Brett’s bed and into his waiting arms. And when I do find my voice again, I don’t tell him goodbye. I tell him I would like nothing more than to spend the weekend with him.
18
The weekend has gone over too fast. I wanted it to last forever, and it seems the more I wanted it to go slow, the faster it went. It feels like I’ve just blinked and the whole of our time together is gone.
Yesterday, Brett and I laid around living room, me in his t-shirt, him in his shorts, and true to his word, we pretended like no one existed outside of the apartment. He cooked me dinner and we ate it out on the balcony, watching the sunset. I threw my clothes in his washer and dryer but even once they were ready, I decided I much preferred his t-shirt.
We spent the full day talking and the better I got to know him, the more I can’t help but dread this weekend ending. It’s not just a physical thing anymore, although I still can barely keep my hands off of him. We click on so many levels and while we’re from different worlds in some ways, in other ways, we have so much in common that it’s almost freaky.
I know that under any other circumstances, Brett and I could have had something really special together, and several times over the weekend, I’ve found myself hating Mr. Connell for his stupid, archaic rules about interoffice relationships. It’s not entirely on him though. I still don’t think I’d be fully on board with being one of those women who sleep with their boss, even if it wasn’t against the company’s rules.
I’ve lost count of the amount of times Brett and I have had sex over these last few days, and I have no idea of the amount of orgasms I’ve had. A lot. I know that much. I know I’m sore from all of the sex, aching in the most pleasant way possible. And I know if we could do this all over again, I wouldn’t change a thing. I can live with the ache to get the orgasms, to get Brett inside of me. I’m just glad I carry my birth control pills in my purse, or we could be in very real trouble right about now. And even then, I don’t think I would have had the willpower to say no to having sex with Brett.
Over the course of Friday night, yesterday, and this morning, I’ve come to realize that Brett makes me feel special. He makes me feel like I’m all he needs, as though I’m the only woman in the world who can command his attention. It’s a bittersweet notion, because I know it has to end today. But I refuse to let myself think about that too much. I don’t want to ruin our last day together by being all melancholy. Oh God, why does this have to end?
Rising from the couch, I move to the kitchen where Brett is buttering some bread rolls and whistling. I need to move around, to do something, I can push these thoughts away fully. I am so sick of asking myself why Brett had to be Mr. Connell’s son, of why I had to work for his father. No matter how many times I think about it and curse my luck, it doesn’t change the situation, so what’s the point in upsetting myself?
“Is there anything I can do to help?” I ask. “I know I’m no cook, but I think I can manage a sandwich without making too much of a mess of it.”
“You can grab some cheese and start slicing it if you like.” Brett chuckles. “Just pretend it’s for a salad and you’ll be fine.”
I pull a face at him, but I move to the fridge and grab a block of orange cheese. I get a knife and a board then begin slicing the cheese. I’ve barely gotten three slices done when Brett is behind me, so close to me that I can feel his body pressed against mine.
“It’s no good,” he says.
“What’s wrong with it?” I demand, glancing at him over my shoulder and then looking back at the perfectly sliced cheese.
“No, there’s nothing wrong with the cheese. I applaud your cheese cutting skills. But it’s no good you being so close to me and so close to naked at the same time,” he says.
“Oh…” It becomes an elongated oh as his fingers grope between my legs from behind, running through my slit and making me wet instantly. “We’ll never get lunch at this rate,” I say, already breathless from his touch.
“We’ll eat it later and call it an afternoon snack,” he says, whispering it directly into my ear while sending goose bumps chasing each other down my neck and over my body.
Brett pulls me backwards so my body is pressed tightly against his. He kisses my neck as he fingers keep working me. I gasp as his fingers press down on my throbbing clit. It’s tender from all of the attention it’s gotten over the last couple of days, but I want Brett badly enough that I ignore the tenderness and concentrate on how good he makes me feel.
He works my clit until I am so wet I can feel liquid soaking my thighs, and then he pushes me forward, bending me over the kitchen counter. He pushes the t-shirt up and I hear rustling as he pushes his shorts down. He runs his fingers down my sides and then he slams into me.
I gasp his name as he fills me once more.
I am aware we have come full circle, just in different apartments. The first time Brett fucked me was on the counter top in my kitchen, and now it’s happening again on his. Or at least… against his. My pussy is taking over my brain, the pleasure from it spilling through my whole body.
Brett rests one hand on my hip. The other hand moves around the front of my body and slips beneath the t-shirt. He moves his hand over my stomach and up to my breasts, where he takes one of my nipples between his fingers and his thumb and rolls it, pinching it gently.
I gasp again, as the pleasure from his cock meets the pleasure from his fingertips in the center of my body. I orgasm in record time. Brett knows my body so well now. He knows exactly how to make me sing. I feel red hot pleasure coursing through me, taking me away to another world for a moment.
Brett pulls his hand away from my breast and instead of holding my nipple, he grabs my hair at the nape of my neck. He twists it, pulling it and making my scalp sting as he comes hard himself. I feel his cock twitching, his hot juices spurting inside me, and then he slips out of me.
I straighten up and he holds me against him. I sag against his chest, feeling the heat coming off his body. He kisses my neck again, still panting slightly.
“How was than for an appetizer?” he says, laughing softly.
After Brett made love to me again, we finally got around to finishing up making lunch. My sliced cheese was a roaring success and I was really quite proud of myself. We ate our sandwiches snuggled up on the couch watching a movie. After I had eaten I felt full, sated and relaxed. I soon found my eyelids growing heavy. I didn’t see the end of the movie.
I wake up now, shocked to see it’s almost six o’clock. I mean I know we haven’t done much sleeping over the weekend, but still, I’m surprised and a little disappointed to see that we’ve slept away our last few hours together.
B
rett is asleep beside me on the couch and I stay still, not wanting to wake him, because I know when I do, it’s time for us to say goodbye. How the hell am I supposed to go back? How can I just walk away from him like he means nothing to me? How the fucking hell am I meant to see him as nothing but my boss again? I don’t know the answers to those questions, but I know I have to come up with them and fast.
Finally, the insistent ache in my bladder makes me have to move and when I come back from using the bathroom, Brett is awake. He smiles at me and he looks so good I just want to go over there, straddle him, and forget about tomorrow, but I resist the urge to go to him. Instead I smile back at him. “Well, I guess I should get dressed and get going then.” I’m not sure whether I want him to agree with me and make this easy, or try to convince me to stay.
He does neither. He comes up with a third option, one I hadn’t considered. One that I like a lot, because it gives us a little bit more time together. “Or you could get dressed and then we could go out and have dinner together. I know this great little Italian place that I think you’ll like.”
Maybe this is the best idea. We can have a few more hours together and maybe going our separate ways will be easier from a restaurant than it will be for me to walk away from his apartment.
He must take my silence as uncertainty because he gets up and comes to my side. He takes my hand in his. “I know things have to go back to the way they were Opal, but I’m not ready to say goodbye to you yet.”
My heart melts at his words, I am a little relieved to know I’m not the only one who is going to find it difficult to let go. I would hate to think that something so meaningful to me was really nothing but a fling, a few days of fun, to Brett. “Dinner sounds great.” I smile.
Brett smiles back at me, a relieved smile. He leans forward and kisses me softly and then he turns away. “I’ll call for a car. While you get dressed.”
“I’m not the only one who needs to get dressed,” I say, laughing softly and nodding towards Brett’s bare chest.
“You mean I can’t go as I am?” he jokes.
I shake my head, still laughing and then I go through to Brett’s bedroom. I can hear him on the phone as I take off his shirt and replace it with my own panties and dress.
Once I’m dressed, I hunt around on Brett’s dressing table and find a comb which I pull through my hair. I grab my purse and root through it. I find a tube of mascara and some lip gloss. It’s all the makeup I have with me and it’ll have to do.
Brett comes into the room as I finish applying the mascara. I put it away and pick up the lip gloss.
He heads to the wardrobe. He pulls on a pair of black boxer shorts, a pair of blue jeans and a pale yellow shirt.
I watch him as I apply the lip gloss.
“The car is on its way,” he says. “And I called the restaurant. They have space for us.”
“Great,” I say. “I’m starving.”
“You’re always starving.” Brett laughs.
“I know. It’s like the gods saw a chance to have a bit of fun when they made me. I can imagine them chuckling to themselves and saying let’s make her the worst cook in the world, but let’s also make it so she’s constantly hungry.”
“Yeah, if you could mess with people like that, you totally would.” Brett snickers.
“Exactly,” I agree.
Brett comes to stand behind me. He ruffles his hair up, looking over me into the mirror.
I am conscious of the heat coming off his body, how he’s almost touching me, but not quite.
And it’s already back to the way it was before this weekend. I crave his touch and yet I don’t feel confident enough to turn in the chair and pull his lips down to mine. It’s like we’ve already begun to distance ourselves from each other. Maybe work won’t be so bad. If we can resist each other here, alone, then the office should be a walk in the park. Except after a day or two of it, I know it’s going to kill me.
I really do have to hope that Brett decides to turn down his father’s offer. Maybe then, we stand a chance. I know in theory, I could leave my job, but I know I’ve worked too hard to throw it all away now. Brett has other options. I don’t. Or maybe I do. I just don’t know anymore.
“Are you ready?” Brett asks, meeting my eyes in the mirror when his phone beeps.
I nod and stand. He offers me his arm and I take it. Is this the last time I will get to take his arm? The last time I will get to touch him?
We go down to the waiting car and make the short trip to the restaurant. It’s a smallish place, the lighting low and intimate. It’s not somewhere you go with someone you want out of your life. I suddenly find myself wishing we had gone to some brightly lit, cheesy diner where most of the clientele are in large groups. Then I could have told myself we were just colleagues grabbing a bite to eat together before the working week starts.
We get seated at a table in the window and we both order the carbonara followed by gelato for Brett and cheesecake for me. I look out onto the street watching the people out there go by.
“Are you all right Opal?” Brett asks.
I pull my gaze away from the window and smile at him.
“Yes,” I answer. “Sorry. I was just people watching.”
Brett grins and nods towards a woman walking by. “Ok. See her? I’d say she’s just inherited a fortune and she’s already debating whether she’s going to go on a cruise first or buy a sports car first.”
I laugh and nod to a man walking his dog. “That’s not even his dog. He walks the neighbour’s dog for her, because he is secretly in love with her and won’t tell her, and he hopes that one day, she’ll invite him in for coffee after he’s walked her dog. She never does, even though she wants to, because she figures if he liked her, he would have asked her out by now.”
“Ok, now I want to run out there and tell him to just ask her out already,” Brett chuckles.
“Oh, you can’t do that!” I exclaim, pretending to be completely serious. “Fate doesn’t like it when you mess with his plans like that.”
“Fate is a guy?”
“Well sure. A woman wouldn’t waste so much time with all of the misunderstandings.” I grin at him. “She’s just get in there and gets the damn job done.”
Brett shakes his head and laughs.
The waiter appears with our carbonara which smells divine. We thank him and I taste some.
“Oh, wow,” I breathe the words out in awe. “That’s amazing.”
“I know right? This place does the best carbonara in town,” Brett agrees.
We eat in a comfortable silence and I can’t help but keep watching Brett. Several times I catch him looking back at me and I smile sheepishly.
“Have you given anymore thought to your father’s proposal?” I ask finally. I didn’t want to bring up work, not now, but I really need to know. If he’s made his decision, then at least, I will know our fate one way or the other.
Brett sighs and shakes his head. “I’ve thought about it, but I’m no closer to having an answer than I was on Friday. If he wasn’t ill, it would be an easy decision. But I just can’t have stressing him out on my conscience. But then the thought of being stuck in his life for the rest of mine, fills me with such dread. What do you think I should do?”
I want to tell him to turn down the offer and never look back. Then we can be together and he can follow his dreams… we can both be happy, but I know I can’t do that. I can’t convince him to do something, knowing it could cause Mr. Connell to have another heart attack. If that happened, then not only would I feel terrible, but Brett would surely come to resent me. “I think you should follow your heart,” I say carefully.
Brett gives a soft laugh. “Way to straddle the fence,” he quips.
I smile at him, but then I turn serious. “It’s such a big decision Brett, and I really don’t think I can be the one to help you make it. I have too much invested in the decision. Don’t you have any business associates you trust who could help you wi
th the decision?”
He raises an eyebrow at my comment about being invested, but he doesn’t ask what I mean. He knows well what I’m talking about. “If it was a straight business decision, then yes. But it’s more than that isn’t it? It’s not about the black and white of the figures. On paper, it’s a great opportunity, but that doesn’t take into account the fact that I’ve spent my whole life avoiding ending up at the company. And that knowledge ignores the fact that my father needs me now, rather than just feeling like it’s my place to take over running the business. Honestly Opal, I’m at the point where I’m debating tossing a coin and basing my decision on that.”
I raise an eyebrow at him.
He shakes his head at me with a grin. “I’m not seriously going to do it, but the idea is tempting.”
“Yeah I imagine it is.” I’m starting to wish I hadn’t brought this up. All I have done is make Brett stress out and remember he has this awful thing hanging over his head.
I’m saved from trying to steer the conversation away from the decision and onto something a bit less stressful when the waiter arrives again. He brings our desserts, tops up our wine and takes our empty plates away.
19
The break from the conversation is exactly what we needed, and Brett starts talking about something completely different which I’m glad about.
As we finish up our desserts, Brett is telling me a funny story from his childhood, and I’m trying to listen, really I am, but suddenly, it feels like the whole room is closing in on me and like the buzz of conversation around us is too loud, like everyone is yelling. Their quiet laughter feels magnified, like everyone in the restaurant is laughing too loudly, right in my face. Before I know it, our desserts are finished and we’re just finishing up our wine, and I know once that’s done, that we’re done and I hate the feeling. I absolutely fucking hate it.