by JA Huss
I don’t want to be an old man with regrets. And that’s why I’m cautious.
Please go to the library next.
McAllister
I get up, grab my beers and leave through the barn doors, turning right once again, because that’s the only way that doesn’t have me backtracking. The library is at the end of this hallway, I can see it from here—glowing with soft amber light that reflects off the dark polished wood. I enter to find a single book placed in the center of a large round table. I set the beers down, hoping they don’t leave a ring of water on this beautiful wood, and reach for the book.
It’s called The 48 Laws of Power by Robert Greene. I’ve read it. It was required in college business classes. There’s a card tucked into the very back and when the book falls open it lands on Law 46—Never Appear Too Perfect.
I open the card and read.
Dear Eloise,
Greene says people who appear too perfect create silent enemies through jealousy. A man with no faults is not a man. I relate to this law the most, even though all the laws are solid, practical, good advice for anyone, at any stage in life. But I relate to Law 46 the most because it is the first lesson I learned on my own.
Please find the closet in the red room.
McAllister
Well. He’s got something to say, he’s just not sure how to say it, I guess. And this scavenger hunt is helping him. Whatever it is, it must weigh heavily on his mind. I sigh as I stick the card in my pocket, pick up the beers, wipe the water ring away with the bottom of my shirt, and go off to find the red room.
This takes me a while. Longer than seems possible. But this place, this penthouse—it’s huge. I pass by many rooms and finally stumble onto the red one.
It’s just another pretty room. If you like this style. I’m appropriately impressed with the luxury of it. The minimalist opulence. If I knew the total price of the things this apartment contains it would probably be more than I’d ever make in a lifetime.
So I pass right by the furnishings and open one of two doors to find an equally impressive bathroom. I move on to the next door and find the closet.
It’s empty. Like the refrigerator. Does he even live here?
Well, it’s not quite empty because there’s a pair of men’s shoes placed for maximum effect in the center of a shelf made just to hold shoes. This closet would bring most women to orgasm. Hell, I’d die for a closet like this. Before I started my little hunt, that is. Because there’s something about all this that is making me very, very nervous.
The silver envelope is placed between the right and left shoe. I pick it up and slide the card out.
Dear Eloise,
Put them on. Yes, I know they’re too big. It’s a lot harder to walk in another man’s shoes than you thought, huh?
The next bedroom is two doors down.
McAllister
I put them on and my feet swim inside the soft, Italian leather. I have to scuff my way out of the red room and down the hallway to the next stop on my tour. I enter the bedroom expecting Mac to be in here. Waiting for me. To have sex, maybe.
But it, like everything else, is empty save for a silver envelope placed neatly on top of a fluffy white pillow. I walk over and notice that one side of the bed is made up perfectly, while the other is pulled down. Like someone has been sleeping on this side.
The envelope is placed on the pillow presumably being used.
I open it up and read the card.
Dear Eloise,
That bed is sad, right? Lonely. Missing something. I’m missing something too. I think you’re my missing piece. But before you come upstairs to the terrace I just want you to know I never said I was perfect. I never claimed to be perfect.
McAllister
Chapter Twenty-Nine - Mac
The moment I hear her soft footsteps coming up the stairs to the terrace I lose my nerve and toss the last silver envelope into the long, skinny line of fire that is burning inside a rectangular concrete pit. The edges catch first and begin to blacken, then shrivel. I will the fire to be hotter, burn faster, so that she won’t know I’m going to keep the last piece of the puzzle to myself.
“Well,” Ellie says from behind me.
I turn, careful to withhold the view of the burning envelope from her, blocking it with my body.
“That was quite a surprise, Mac. I’m not sure what to think about it.” She’s not wearing my shoes. They are far too big for her. She’s holding them, one dangling from each hand, with the bottles of Zombie Dust beer stuffed inside. She walks towards me. “That was quite the hunt you sent me on.”
“It was…” I stumble for words. “Just a way for you to get to know me. Something different than the usual tell me about yourself. I’m not a typical man, Ellie. I’m just trying to get that point across.”
“Point taken,” she says, slowly wandering over to me. “And you’re not perfect.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I’ve probably made a lot of mistakes with you already. But I hope you don’t hold it against me because I can’t take anything back.”
She offers me up a small smile that comes with a shrug. “I don’t know. I don’t think you’ve made any mistakes. It’s been fun. I know we’ve had fights. But that’s all part of getting to know each other. And I’m starting to feel a little inadequate about how much of my own life I’ve shared.” She laughs and I take this as a good sign. My hints have not yet scared her off.
“I had your Heath messages. I came into this relationship with an unfair advantage, even if they were only delusional dreams.”
She wanders past me and my heart beats faster, wondering if the final envelope has burned away my past yet.
But either she doesn’t notice, or it has, because she takes a seat on the large white couch and tucks her legs underneath her.
I turn and follow her lead, sitting down next to her, reaching for a bottle of beer tucked inside one of the shoes. I pull a bottle opener from my suit coat pocket and pop it off, then hand it to her. She smiles as I repeat this with my own beer.
We clink the glass of our bottles together, like we do this all the time, and each take a sip.
“They weren’t delusional dreams, though,” Ellie says. “That’s really me.”
“Which part?” I laugh.
She shrugs. “Most of it. I want that house. Someday. I want the puppy too. And the kids and the nurseries. I want a perfect life, I guess.”
“And yet I am not the perfect man.”
“Nope,” she says. “It appears not.”
I might have a little panic attack at her admission. Is she having second thoughts?
“But I don’t think you need two perfect people to have the perfect life.”
I let out a long exhale. Relief. “I agree,” I say.
“But there’s more to me than those dreams.”
“I want to know all about you, Ellie. Every single bit.”
She smiles as the light from the fire dances across her face. “I don’t really have any secrets. I mean, you know them already. I want all that romantic stuff. I guess that’s my secret. And I don’t think it’s silly. I just think I deserve it.”
“Did you have a… a bad childhood?”
She shakes her head. “No. Not really. Of course, my mother walked out on me and my father when I was about eight. Just got bored, I guess. Maybe she wanted the perfect life too and my father couldn’t provide that. But it’s all very typical these days, right? People never seem to be satisfied. So that was kind of tragic, but I bounced back. I had my father until I was twenty and he died in a boating accident. Every year we went deep-sea fishing in the Bahamas. It was a constant in my life, even before my mom left. And that year I was in college and couldn’t get away. And of course, that’s when it happens, right? Life twists and things change when you’re doing ordinary things and not paying attention.
“Your father and my father knew each other from childhood. We weren’t as rich as you guys, but I grew u
p with money, and a certain level of privilege that came with expectations. That’s how I got my internship with Stonewall Entertainment.”
“I’m sure it had a lot to do with your potential as well.”
“Oh, yes. I’m sure. I’m not selling myself short just because I was offered an opportunity. And I’m certainly not saying I’m ungrateful, but this—” She throws her hands out, her gesture encompassing everything around us, indicating this place, and this life, and this moment. “This isn’t what I want.”
“The puppies,” I say. “And the dream house.”
She shrugs. “More than that, but yes. Your father made me an interesting offer today.”
“Will you stay?”
“Will you?”
“He fired me.” I laugh.
“So you didn’t talk about it afterward? This afternoon?”
“No,” I say. “He’s gone. We’ll do that in his own good time.”
“So what will you do?”
“Show up for work on Monday and see what happens.”
“Well, that’s kind of cocky.” She giggles.
“He wants me there. Not showing up would be an insult. I’m not trying to insult him. I want a specific life too, Ellie. I have my own dream. I guess you can call it that.”
“What’s your dream?”
I want to tell her the truth, but I can’t. I can’t because I burned the secret I’m keeping from her. It’s shriveled up to dust in the fire in front of us. So I choose my words carefully. “I want… predictability. Stability, I guess. That’s probably a better word. And I want to change things at the same time.”
“Sounds like a paradox, if you ask me.”
“It is.” I take a long drink of my beer and watch her as she does the same. “I like to be rooted in fact. In reality.”
“So why do you like me?” Ellie asks. “I don’t think I’m that girl.”
“No,” I say, admitting it. “You’re a dreamer. And that scares me because it involves things that are untrue, or at the very least, unknown. I have a thing for truth, Ellie. A long history of being fucked over by the delusional lies of others.”
She squints her eyes. They flash with momentary anger, but she gets it under control. “Then why are we here?”
“Maybe I’m wrong about you?”
“Maybe I’m wrong about you?” she counters.
“Maybe we should take a chance on one another and find out?”
“What does that look like?” she asks, squinting her eyes in suspicion.
I sigh and shrug. My turn to throw my arms out to encompass the world around us. “This.” I laugh. “This night. This weekend. This date. I don’t really know.”
“Then why did you start this with me, Mac? If you knew I wasn’t what you were looking for, then why start something you didn’t want to finish?”
I sigh. “I thought you were cute. Before I ever even saw you, it was… kind of… adorable.”
“You find my innermost thoughts adorable?” She makes a face, like she has a bad taste in her mouth. “I’m not sure that’s a compliment.”
“It is,” I say, pulling her towards me, one arm around her shoulders. “I promise.” I take her beer and set it on the edge of the rectangular fire pit in front of us. “I’m getting used to you.”
“Oh, Jesus,” she says, pulling away.
“Stop,” I order. “And listen to me. I’m getting used to the idea that maybe a dream is not a lie. And all that stuff you said to Heath was… well, not exactly a dream. But a possibility. I don’t think you really liked Heath, did you?”
“I thought we were friends. And maybe some part of me thought he might fit into my delusional dream world. But did I really think I was marrying him? For real? No. It was an escape for me. I’ve been in a dry spell. I just needed to spice things up.”
“Well, I think you accomplished that.” We both laugh now, and I feel some of the tension ease out of her. “It certainly got my attention. And I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but you were not the only woman from work who was texting him with delusions. Heath and Ellen—”
“No!” she exclaims. “Gross. She’s old enough to be his mother!”
“Hey, she’s quite the sexpot on screen. Heath had her in his phone as Ellie. So I was getting the messages from the two of you confused.”
“Oh, my God.” She laughs. “You thought—?” She bursts out with a guffaw.
“Yeah. I really thought you were the same person when I came on to you in the stairs. And I should apologize for that, but nah. I like the unexpected twist, Ellie. I’m very happy with how things are turning out for me. Even if you are on the other side of the ridiculous line and I’m standing over in the stodgy area of the relationship waiting room.”
“Hell, Mac. You’re definitely not stodgy when it comes to me. I’ve never had so much fun in my entire life.”
“Me too,” I admit. “This has been a crazy good two weeks for me. I’ve had more fun, more smiles, more laughs with you than I’ve had in years. Probably close to a decade.” I slip my hand up her t-shirt and fondle her breast through her bra. “It doesn’t have to end, you know. We can keep going. Give it a real try.”
I don’t wait for an answer, just stand up and pull her to her feet with me. I lead her across the terrace, down the steps, through the myriad of hallways, and nooks, and rooms, until we get to the master bedroom. It’s lit up, and it’s on the second floor, not anywhere close to where I had her poking around earlier.
The king-sized bed is on the far wall, framed by a floor-to-ceiling window with a view of the city. I stand her at the foot of the bed and begin to undress her body. I ease her shirt over her head, place my hands on her breasts and give them a squeeze as I crouch down and lick her stomach. My hands wander down the curve of her waist and stop to hold her at the hips while I nip the soft, sensitive skin just above the button on her jeans.
Her fingers thread through my hair, gripping slightly as she lets out a long breath of air. “Talk,” I say. “I want to hear you talk.”
“What?” Ellie breathes.
My hands are suddenly ripping the button of her jeans open. The zipper rakes down, exposing her lower belly. I lean in and cover her skin with my mouth, nipping her again. And then I yank her jeans down, her white panties rolling down with the force, and toss them aside. “You know what I’m asking. Do it. Do it, Ellie. You like to pretend, don’t you? It gives you a thrill, doesn’t it?”
I slip one hand between her legs, careful not to touch in any of the places she’s craving right now. But instead, I reach up and place the whole of my palm against her, my thumb playing with the wetness between her legs. She’s gripping my hair tighter.
“Just… don’t stop,” she moans with her eyes closed. “I don’t know what to say except that. I don’t want you to stop.”
“I don’t want to stop either. So tell me what you want me to do.”
She opens her eyes for a moment, but my thumb presses against her soft folds and her eyes immediately close. “That,” she says. “More of that.”
“The words, Ellie. I like to hear the words. It’s fucking hot. The dirtier, the better. So say them. Say them all, Ellie. And I’ll put my fingers anywhere you want. I’ll put my mouth anywhere you want. I’ll fuck you sore. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you come. Make you mine.”
She is panting now. Her grip on my hair flexes and contracts, pulsating with the wave of pleasure that is surely building inside her.
But she stays silent. Nothing but her heavy breath as a response.
I withdraw my fingers and stand up.
“Mac,” she finally utters. “Please… just…”
“Undress me,” I say. “If you can’t ask for what you want, I’m happy to go first.”
That fingernail comes right up to her mouth and for the first time I notice that her polish is chipped. She chews on it for a moment and then she places each of her hands on my shoulders and slips my suit coat off. She carefully lays
it on the cushions next to us and then fists the fabric of my dress shirt and pulls it out of my pants.
“Oh, yeah,” I say, shaking my head a little. “I like this Ellie.”
She loosens my tie, flips up my collar, and slides it over my head, dropping the silk down on top of the coat. Her lips press together and then relax as she begins unbuttoning my shirt from the bottom up. When she gets to the last button she slides it over my bare shoulders, her fingertips brushing gently against my skin. Tracing the curves of my muscles all the way down my arms until the shirt falls to the floor at our feet.
I place both my hands on her shoulders and press down. “Kneel,” I say. I have no problem asking her to do what I like. None. “And take my dick out.”
She lets out a long exhale and I can almost feel her pulse pounding in her neck as she lowers herself to the floor. She looks up at me, her eyes wide as she swallows hard.
“Fuck,” I say. “Just picturing you sucking my dick makes me harder.” Harder, because I’m so fucking hard right now, my cock might be made of stone.
She takes her attention to my belt and her fingers stumble through the motions of unbuckling it. She draws in another deep breath, like she’s steeling herself for the next part, but she does not hesitate. The button on my trousers is flipped through the narrow slit and then she is dragging my zipper down. One hand slides in, cupping my thick shaft, the other pulls on my boxer briefs until my cock is free.
I fist it, pumping it up and down as she watches, and then I guide it to her mouth. “Open,” I say.
She looks up at me, blinking twice, and then obeys.
I let a small grin escape as her hot breath puffs out against my tip and then the warmth of her mouth surrounds me, sealing against my skin. She sucks, pushing down, making me enter her throat before drawing back, her tongue flat as it drags along my cock, and then releases me, looking up again to see if I like what she can do.