Coffee, Sex and Law

by Avril Rose

  “You want to know what I think?

  “No,” I say with my mouth full.

  "I figured as much. But I’m going to tell you anyway. You like him more than you want to admit.”

  “Certainly not! He’s not my type at all. Opportunist, suit-wearing, all he thinks about is money, dates Barbie dolls, and screws anything in a skirt. Definitely not for me. I’ve already been down that road and I already know how it ends. No, I think I’m starting to understand...” I say before Lisa can argue with the reductive and probably not entirely justified portrait I've just painted of 00S.

  “And?” she asks, anxious to hear my theory.

  “I can't accept the fact that I was used. I’m hurt. It’s as simple as that. That guy has been coming into the café for months. And now that he got what he wanted, he’s disappeared! I wouldn’t have reacted so excessively if he'd come back to get his coffee like all the other days, as if nothing had happened, you know?”

  "Uh-huh. I’m skeptical, but if you're buying it...”

  She fills her coffee cup for the third time before going on.

  “So, now that you have properly analyzed the situation, what are you going to do about it?”

  “I have no idea,” I lament. “Forget the whole thing...”

  We sit there in silence for a minute.

  “I liked him, my 00S,” I admit, pouting.

  “I know, sweetie. Come now, you know what they say: when one door closes...”

  “That door is closed,” I reply, grinning.

  “So,” she says finally.

  “What?”

  “Now can I go back to being the brokenhearted one until my time is up?”

  “Yes, you can. If my calculations are correct, you have three more weeks to feel sorry for yourself,” I announce, counting on my fingers.

  “Wait, you’re counting the week I just spent taking care of you?” she asks seriously.

  “Alright, four weeks, then,” I concede.

  There's no joking around with grieving periods, no matter how long they may be.

  ***

  “Zoe, please tell me you’re on your way! The appointment with my lawyer is at 10:30, remember? It’s 10:31!”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m just around the corner,” I say, out of breath.

  I got Victor to cover for me all morning at Temple Coffee, much to his dismay. I got to sleep in for the first time in months, and I forgot to set my alarm. Fatal error. Daylight was not sufficient to pull me out of my deep slumber.

  I see Lisa in the distance, and I can make out the relief on her face when she sees me approaching.

  “Hey!”

  She gives me a quick kiss on the cheek before scolding me.

  “You know I hate to be late! Come with me,” she orders as we walk through the revolving door.

  I examine our surroundings while Lisa checks in with one of the receptionists. The lobby is tastefully minimalist. The reception desk is circular, in the center of the room. It’s quite striking. The furniture is simple and sophisticated. Straight from a design magazine. It’s all too showy and cold for my taste.

  Next, I notice the receptionists. They are all gorgeous. I look down at my outfit and suddenly feel quite ordinary... And short!

  We are accompanied to Mister Delmotte’s office. An expert in the field, apparently.

  “Hello,” he greets us warmly. “Come in, please. Have a seat,” he offers, showing us to two armchairs facing his desk.

  “Hello, sir. I’m Lisa Chevallier. And this is Zoe Pasquier. I asked her to accompany me today. Is that alright?”

  "Of course. So, Ms. Chevallier. What can I do for you? Why don’t you start by explaining your situation.”

  Lisa sits up straight and takes a deep breath, then begins her story.

  “My husband and I have decided to go our separate ways. I wanted to get some information, for starters. What’s the procedure, how long does it take, what decisions do we need to discuss, how much will it cost us, etc.”

  “Right, I understand. I’ll explain all of that to you. But first, I need a bit more information from you. Is your relationship with your husband hostile?”

  “It could be, but no. We both want the divorce to go as smoothly as possible. I don’t want anything more than half of our assets. I already moved. He'll keep the apartment.”

  “Do you have children together?”

  “No.”

  The lawyer begins to list the different options available. He obviously suggests a divorce by mutual consent and lists the documents she will need to provide to prepare the paperwork.

  I’m surprised at how calm Lisa is. She seems to really be back on her feet these past few days. As if she finally accepted what was once impossible to accept and has decided to move forward. I don’t think she really needed me here today. I jot down the advice the lawyer gives, making myself useful all the same. Lisa listens attentively, but she has a horrible memory and I know my notes will come in handy later.

  Focusing on what I’m doing, I barely notice when the door opens quietly behind me.

  “Excuse me, Hugo. Can I see you for a moment?”

  I instantly go stiff when I hear the masculine voice, firm and assertive. I recognize the floral and spice notes of 00S’s cologne as they waft toward me, as if to confirm that yes, it really is him. I imagine him there in his designer suit, a tailored shirt hinting at his pectoral muscles and defining his trim waist. One of his hands is probably in his pants pocket while the other rests against the door frame. It all comes rushing back: his body against mine, his tongue in my mouth, his cock inside me. My heart does a somersault in my chest.

  “I’ll be back in a moment, ladies,” Mister Delmotte says.

  “Of course, no rush!” Lisa assures him.

  I can’t say a word. I’m paralyzed.

  “He seems to know what he’s talking about. What do you think?” she whispers once we’re alone. “And he’s cute, too, right? Zoe? Zoe!”

  “Jesus, Lisa. That was 00S!” I stutter.

  “Who... what? Mister Delmotte? Really, that’s insane. I could have sworn you were meeting each other for the first time,” she says, shocked.

  “No, not him! The other guy! The one who just came in. I’m almost positive it was him.”

  “Well, shit. Give me my phone,” she orders.

  “What?”

  “Come on, hurry up!” she rushes me. “If he works here, his picture must be on their website.”

  "Alright, calm down, Columbo. I don’t care who he is. All I want is to be sure I don’t have to run into him when we leave.”

  “Why?”

  “Why? You need me to refresh your memory? He fucked me, and since then, nada!” I say crudely. “Thanks, but I’d rather not be humiliated yet again!”

  “It’s a sign, Zoe! What were the chances that you’d run into him at his office? Miles away from your coffee shop!”

  “First of all, we don’t know if he works here. And second of all, you know how I feel about signs and chances.”

  “No, how do you feel about them, my child?”

  Lisa’s ridiculous response cracks us both up.

  “I’m sorry, I’m all yours!” Mister Delmotte interrupts, sitting down at his desk again.

  Lisa gathers herself and gives me a glance to let me know we haven't finished our conversation yet.

  I spend the rest of the meeting in a state of utter stress, worried I might run into 00S when we walk out of here. And what about all that anger I was feeling toward him? Why have I lost control of my emotions again, just by hearing his voice?

  When I walk into the hallway, my hands are clammy. While I look confident as I walk, I’m quaking like a coward inside.

  “I need to stop by the front desk to make the next appointment,” Lisa says.

  “Can’t you call from home to do that?” I suggest, fear
fully glancing left and right.

  “Why would I do that? Wait for me outside, if that would make you feel better. Or go hide in the bathroom,” she jokes.

  I glare at her. She annoys me when she plays dumb.

  “Zoe?”

  Well, shit. 00S.

  I do an about-face to greet him. My heart roller-coasters around my rib cage when I lay eyes on him. He's simply breathtaking. I look him over more than I’d like, starting with his skilled hands that were on my skin not so long ago... then his muscular torso whose lines I know by heart... his neck that I breathed into as if my life depended on it... his full lips that kissed me with a passion I had never felt before... and finally, his eyes that looked straight into my soul.

  A smile lights up his face.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I... Uh...” I begin to stutter.

  His radiant face irritates me. I suddenly remember the state I’ve been in this past week because if this sexy son of a bitch. I pull myself back together.

  “Nothing that concerns you,” I say coolly.

  I'm furious now, wound up like a pocket watch. All of those endless seconds of doubt, waiting, and disappointment come flooding back. I want to make him pay for having such an influence over me.

  "Hello! I’m Lisa Chevallier,” my friend interrupts without giving me a chance to stop her.

  “Nice to meet you. Liam Desages.”

  Liam Desages.

  He now has a name.

  “Zoe’s told me a lot about you,” she goes on.

  My face turns pale. What is wrong with her? What a traitor!

  “Didn't you have an appointment to make?” I remind her with a fake smile.

  “Oh yeah, right. I better go do that.”

  “It’s crazy to see you here!” he says, obviously thrilled.

  He turns to Lisa again and uses his most charming tone, pointing a finger at me.

  “Can I steal her for a minute?”

  Are you kidding me?! Don’t mind me, not like I’m standing right here!

  "Of course! Take all the time you need. I have to head out anyway, I have another appointment,” she lies. “See you at our normal spot for lunch?”

  Yes, for your final meal, you mean.

  “Follow me,” Liam motions to me after saying a quick goodbye to Judas.

  When he turns his back, I glare at my friend and drag my thumb across my throat to explain how I will murder her later.

  I watch his every move as he guides me through the hallway, leading the way.

  He’s attractive in his fitted black suit, one hand in his pocket and the other brushing through his hair from time to time. Is that what he does when he’s uncomfortable? Is he stressed, too? Did he feel obligated to talk to me? Or did he actually want to?

  I find myself hoping the answer is yes. Questions bounce around my head. What is happening to me? I don’t even know this man, and yet as soon as I’m anywhere near him, I lose control. All of my good resolutions melt like snow in the sun.

  Get ahold of yourself! A whole week with no news! This guy used you!

  I’m once again determined not to let him win me over when we walk into his office.

  My jaw drops when I see the size of the room, much larger than his associate’s where we were before, and with much more luxurious furnishings.

  He offers me a seat in one of the four designer armchairs surrounding a glass coffee table while taking one of them himself.

  Instead of obeying, I lean against his desk, pressing my hands against the wood to brace myself.

  Our positions – me standing, him sitting – gives me a bit of my confidence back.

  “I’m happy to see you,” he says.

  I say nothing.

  “You seem... angry.”

  “I'm not,” I lie.

  “I’ve thought about you a lot since the other night,” he continues.

  “Oh yeah?” I say sarcastically.

  My answers seem to throw him off guard. His eyes are more evasive than usual and his hands are fidgeting, going from his hair to his tight jaw.

  “Why are you being so cold? Are you mad at me?” he asks surprised, trying to get a read on me.

  “No, absolutely not. I'm more... well... indifferent,” I reply provocatively.

  “Indifferent? I don’t believe you!” he declares, getting to his feet and trying to regain his composure.

  When I realize he’s walking toward me, I suddenly lose my nerve. My heart beats faster and my legs turn to jelly. I manage to stand up straight, hoping to pull myself together quickly.

  He’s right there, so close to me.

  His hand touches my face, and then reaches behind my head to grab my ponytail, wrapping it around his hand. Our lips almost meet. I'm about a millisecond away from giving into that delicious mouth of his. I hate that he has this power over me.

  “Stop it, right now,” I order, pulling away.

  “So you are angry.”

  “Yes, I’m angry with you!” I admit, my eyes dark with venom. “Who do you think you are? And who do you take me for?”

  He lifts a questioning eyebrow.

  “I’m not one of those bimbo Barbie dolls you usually sleep with!”

  “Oh, you didn’t like my friends the other day?” he teases, his hands in his pockets.

  “Of course I liked them, such wit the both of them, Boozer Barbie and Buzzed Barbie. So classy, not at all trashy...”

  And now I’m a pouting little girl. Instead of cool and indifferent. Well done!

  He cracks up laughing when he hears the nicknames I gave the two of them.

  “I never should have brought my buddies and their lady friends to Temple. And to be totally honest, I never slept with either of them.”

  I keep a straight face, but inside I'm flooded with relief at this news.

  It doesn't excuse anything! I lecture myself.

  “You used me the other night. You came there with one purpose, and when you got what you...”

  “Used?” he interrupts. “Are you telling me you didn’t want me?”

  “Well... No, I mean, yes...”

  Ah! He’s confusing me again!

  “Zoe, there were two of us that night. Two consenting adults who gave in to desire and had a great time. An incredible time, even.”

  He moves closer to me again. My blood is boiling, and the lion inside me is pacing in its cage, resisting the irrepressible desire to pounce on him. To kiss him.

  He's right about one thing. I wanted him more than I’ve ever wanted anyone. I remember it being almost painful. My last relationship lasted eight years and I wouldn’t really call our sex life passionate. “Reassuring” would be a better adjective.

  He lifts my chin to lock his hungry eyes with mine.

  “Tell me you didn't want me.”

  I look away to break his control over me, feeling like I’m on the verge of succumbing.

  “That's not the point.”

  “Yes, it is,” he insists. “You didn't want me?”

  “It doesn't matter,” I say.

  “Look at me,” he says in a quiet but firm voice.

  His eyes are dark with desire. Desire for me. This man desires me. Why?

  "I wanted you," I finally murmur.

  We size each other up for what seems like an eternity. The little devil on my shoulder just knocked the angel off and has taken control of my brain. My lips go to meet Liam’s, unable to resist. I open my mouth slightly, letting his tongue slip in.

  My God, it's so good!

  Butterflies begin to fill my lower abdomen.

  We kiss for a long while. When he pulls his soft lips away from mine so we can catch our breath, I look into his eyes to try and read what he’s thinking. The intensity I see there is overwhelming.

  His phone rings, interrupting our magical moment
.

  "Sorry. I have to get that,” he says, going around his desk to pick up the phone.

  Just what I needed to hear the voice of reason.

  He got you. again!

  I completely lose it whenever I’m around this guy. I hate how weak I become in his presence. And to think, if I hadn’t run into him today, I probably would have never seen him again. He never would have come back to Temple Coffee, I’d bet my life on it.

  I'm such an idiot!

  He’s nothing more than a Lothario who gets some sick pleasure out of pursuing conquests. And then he moves on to the next.

  “That kiss does not solve anything,” I argue, once he’s off the phone. “I know you could snap your fingers and ten women would fall at your feet. So why did you come in that night?”

  “To... see you.”

  He seems uncomfortable all of a sudden.

  “Why?” I press.

  "Forget it. It doesn't matter,” he says, dodging my question.

  “That’s for me to decide,” I push harder.

  He sighs with annoyance.

  “I needed to see something.”

  “Do you know how to answer a question like a normal person?”

  “I don't want to talk about it.”

  "Alright. As you wish. I need to go.”

  I start to walk toward the door, determined to move on with my life.

  “Zoe, wait...”

  He understands that I’m about to slip away from him again.

  “We had sex, as two consenting adults. It was great. Seeing you again has been great. End of story.”

  Great ending, Zoe! Good work!

  He furrows his brow, surprised by my cold, direct behavior. He runs a nervous hand through his hair.

  “Are you free tonight?” he asks suddenly.

  “Wh... what?

  “Are you free tonight? I’m asking you out to dinner.”

  My hand is already on the door knob. I’m ready to walk out of here forever, and leave this all behind me.

  “What for?” I hear myself ask.

  “So we can talk to each other, calmly. Get to know each other.”

  “Get to know each other?” I repeat after a long pause.

  “Yeah. We already had sex, now it’s time to talk,” he jokes, trying to break the tension.