Flesh: Part Seven (The Flesh Series Book 7)

by Sky Corgan

  Flesh

  Part Seven

  SKY CORGAN

  Text copyright 2015 by Sky Corgan.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the author.

  CHAPTER ONE

  "Morning, sunshine." I stare at Janice as she emerges from the hallway. My night was sleepless, and a good portion of my morning has been spent waiting on the sofa for her to wake up. I haven't even been able to concentrate on the television. My mind has been too focused on what she said last night about Lucian's troubled past, wondering what she meant.

  She holds the sides of her head, her hair a bushy mess. "Make the room stop spinning."

  "That's what you get for drinking a rainbow." I have no sympathy for her. She's old enough to know better than to drink that much when she has to work the next day.

  "I was having fun," she huffs before throwing herself down on the sofa beside me. "Now go get me some water."

  "Yes, your majesty." I stand and take an exaggerated bow before heading to the kitchen to fetch her a glass of water. When I return and hand it to her, she continues holding her head with one hand as she grabs the glass and chugs it down.

  "That's probably going to come back up," she warns.

  I pull the hair tie out of my hair and hand it to her. I'm not interested in watching her puke some more.

  She scowls but takes the hair tie from me, quickly pulling her hair up into a bun and wincing every few seconds as she does. I can only imagine how her head is pounding.

  "This is probably only going to make the headache worse," she whines.

  "Well, I hope it was worth it."

  "It was." A big grin curls her lips though it swiftly transforms into a grimace when the pain hits her again.

  "So, about last night." I sit down and pull my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. "You said that your Sir had some information on Lucian."

  "I did?" She arches an eyebrow at me.

  “You did.”

  Don't tell me she doesn't remember. Maybe I should have shaken her harder last night. Even if she would have slurred the information to me, at least I would have had it.

  Janice presses her hand to her temple, closing her eyes. "To be honest, I don't remember much from last night after my scene with Sir. We finished things up in the dungeon, and then he took me upstairs to hang out with his friends. People were buying me drinks left and right. I haven't had access to that much free alcohol in a long time, so I took advantage of it."

  I sigh, "I suppose I can't blame you. I probably wouldn't have been able to control myself either." My mind goes back to being in Lucian's limo and wishing he would have offered me a drink. I'm amazed that the only thing I had to drink all night was the wine that Janice and I shared before we went to Fleshfest.

  "My memory after that is a blur." Janice turns to me and pouts. "I'm sorry I don't remember what Sir said about Blue Eyes."

  My shoulders slump in defeat. "It's alright. Maybe I'll just ask him about it later."

  "So, you're going to see him again?"

  I can't help but smirk at how little she remembers. We discussed this last night.

  "Yes, I'm going to see him again. He's still my client, remember?"

  "Oh, yeah." She turns back around to face the television. "Did you guys have fun after you left?"

  "Sort of. Not really." Unpleasant emotions flood me as I think of the amazing time I had with Lucian and how he ruined it with his cruel words. "He seduced me again, and then he basically just told me that his only interest in me is sexual. Same shit, different setting."

  "To be honest, Amy, he looks like bad news," her voice is all seriousness. "I mean, yeah, he's hot, but that's part of the problem. I remember that girl being on his lap. It turns out that she was his teacher in the lifestyle." She screws her face as if she's confused. "I'm not sure if she was his Domme at one point, but they did have a very close relationship. I got the impression that they still do. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that, judging from the way that he's treated you, and seeing him at Flesh, I just don't think he's the right guy for you."

  "I don't either." I shake my head, feeling my heart grow heavy.

  It wasn't the information I had hoped to hear, but it was a new tidbit about Lucian, no less. My suspicions are pretty much confirmed. Between seeing that woman sitting on his lap and the way that he looked at, and spoke to Janice, it's now crystal clear to me that he's a hoebag. The only reason he even wanted me to come to Fleshfest was so that he could try to keep me interested enough so that I'd still have sex with him. I'm onto him now though. There's no way I'm going to allow myself to continue to be a part of whatever little harem he has going on. It's over between us.

  ***

  Somehow, Janice manages to drag herself to work. I have no idea how she does it. After spending most of the morning puking, all I would want to do is crawl into bed and go back to sleep. Not her though. Perhaps she feels guilty for calling in the night before. Whatever the reason, she forces down some food, pops some Tylenol, and throws on her uniform before trudging out the door for the night.

  I sit on the sofa with my head turned towards the door for a few seconds before I return my attention to the television. It looks like it's going to be a nice long night of relaxing. Tomorrow is a holiday, so I don't have to work. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to have a drink or two, not that I typically enjoy drinking alone. I feel like I lost out last night by not having a few cocktails. I was so focused on Lucian the whole time that I never really allowed myself to relax and have fun except when we were at the liquid latex booth.

  I screw my face at the thought of how different Lucian acted when we were at that booth together. It was the first time I'd ever really seen him relax—not be such an uptight prick. Well, he was playful when he took my camera from me the first night we slept together too, but that was different, somehow. There was no immediate expectation of sex from his flirting at Fleshfest. Or was there? I did sleep with him in the limo, after all.

  I draw my hand up to my forehead. Trying to decode his actions is giving me a headache, and I don't want to think about him anymore. There's no point. Lucian Reddick is bad for me. Not only is he infatuated with being a Dominant, but he also obviously sleeps around. If I reject him, he'll have me replaced within a week, I'd bet. It's an upsetting thought, but I know it's for the best. I want a sweet guy who will romance me and chase after me and who I can trust. Lucian is none of those things. He has his sweet moments, but they're fleeting, and his sheer douchebaggery overshadows them tenfold. I doubt he'd know romance if it hit him in the face. And the most he's chased me so far is from his dining room to his bedroom. He's pressured me for sex time and time again, and there's no emotional reward afterward. Only pain.

  He's best forgotten, at least for the rest of the weekend, and there would be no better way to do that than to fuel myself with alcohol and immerse myself in whatever is on television. Not romance though. Not tonight.

  I head to the kitchen to see what kind of liquor we have. My options are tequila and rum. The tequila only has about three shots left in the bottle, but the rum is halfway full. Then I check the refrigerator to see what kind of mixers we have. I scowl when I realize that we're out of sweet and sour. Just seeing the bottle of tequila made me crave a margarita. I'm too lazy to go to the store though and pick up more sweet and sour. Luckily, we have some pineapple juice. Rum and pineapple juice is the next best thing.

  I make myself a drink and curl up on th
e sofa. There's a Futurama marathon on, so I decide to watch that. I could use something lighthearted and funny after all of the drama I've been dealing with.

  I'm about three episodes in when I hear a knock on the door. My shoulders slump, and I groan. It's a solicitor, most likely. They tend to circle around our apartment like buzzards on a carcass during the weekends. I've been meaning to post a No Soliciting sign on our door, but I keep forgetting to pick one up every time I go to the store.

  For a moment, I think about not answering, but then I remember it's Girl Scout cookie season. Last year, they came to our apartment, and I stocked up. If I'm lucky, it will be a Girl Scout. It probably isn't though.

  Deciding to take a chance, I pull myself off of the sofa and look through the peephole. My face breaks into a smile when I see who is standing on the other side.

  "Derrick!" I say his name with all the enthusiasm I'm feeling as I open the door. Hopefully, now I don't have to drink alone.

  "Buttercup!" He mirrors my excitement.

  "What are you doing here?" My eyes scan down his body to the plastic bags he's holding in each hand.

  "We never really celebrated getting the Reddick contract." He lifts the bags up, and I can see that there are two bottles of wine in one of them.

  "Man after my own heart." I press my palm against my chest.

  "I'm glad you're home." He steps inside and heads for the kitchen. "I was a bit worried about coming over without calling first, but I wanted it to be a surprise."

  "It's a very pleasant surprise. I was drinking alone, and you know how much fun that is." I roll my eyes and follow him into the kitchen, watching as he sets the bags on the counter and begins unpacking them. Inside is an assortment of fruits, cheeses, meats, crackers, and chocolate.

  "Do you have a tray I can put this stuff on?" He begins rummaging through the cupboards.

  "Yeah. Over here." I open the cupboard nearest the door and pull out a plastic platter for him to put the food on. He takes it from me and immediately goes to work setting up our snacks.

  "Should the wine go in the fridge?" I peel the plastic bag from the bottles. They're both chilled, so that answers my question. I put one in the refrigerator and grab a corkscrew from the drawer to open the other one.

  "I tried to come over last night, but you were gone," he mentions though he doesn't ask where I was.

  I know the question isn't lingering far behind, so I decide to answer on my own. "Yeah. Janice and I went out."

  "Where'd you go?" He leans back so I can get some wine glasses out of the cabinet.

  "I kind of don't want to tell you," I admit, shifting my weight.

  He stops cutting up the block of cheese he's working on and gives me a disappointed look. "Late night with Reddick?"

  "Yes and no." I quirk my head to the side, not wanting to meet his gaze. "I told you that Janice was there."

  "Did he ask for a threesome?"

  "Derrick!" I gasp, leaning over to elbow him in the side.

  "What? I get the impression that wouldn't be a too far-fetched thing to expect from him." He looks genuinely offended by my shock.

  "No." I shake my head, pouring us each a glass of wine. "He didn't ask for a threesome. He invited us to go to Fleshfest. Well, he invited me to go to Fleshfest. I invited Janice because I know she wouldn't forgive me if I didn't."

  "Fleshfest," he says the name with absolute disgust. "What in the hell is that?"

  "It's a fetish festival, but it reminded me a lot more of a club." I try to play down the event. "There was music and dancing and booths that sold sex stuff."

  "Sounds classy." He rolls his eyes.

  "Well, it wasn't." I set his glass of wine in front of him and steal a grape from the tray. He doesn't try to stop me or complain.

  "Did you have fun?" Derrick takes in a deep breath as if fearing the answer.

  I briefly bite my bottom lip before taking a sip of wine. My answer is really two-fold, but if I'm being completely honest, the bad outweighed the good. "Not really."

  "Good. Then there's no reason for you to go out with him again." He takes the tray and his glass of wine and walks around me to the living room.

  I follow him and sit on the sofa as he sets the tray down on the coffee table.

  "What's on the dumb tube?" Derrick leans forward to grab the remote.

  "I was watching the Futurama marathon."

  "No Lifetime Move Network?" he teases.

  "No," I huff. Asshole.

  He flips to the TV guide and scrolls through it for a moment before scowling and pressing the Exit button. "Futurama it is."

  We sit and watch television in silence for what feels like hours, downing glasses of wine and making idle conversation during the commercials. At some point, Derrick slips his arm around my shoulder, and I cuddle against him. He feels so warm and secure. I wish Lucian was more like him. Derrick has always been transparent about everything. He's kind and emotionally stable. And he's gay. Very, very gay, I remind myself. It seems like all the good guys are these days, I think with a sigh.

  "What's wrong, sugar tits?" Derrick looks down at me.

  "Just everything that's gone on lately," I admit.

  Oh no, the alcohol is taking me somewhere dark. We're supposed to be happy, celebrating the big business contract that's going to rain success and bonuses down on us, but all I can think about is how screwed up everything is. Maybe we shouldn't even be celebrating. As things are going, I don't know if I can force myself to be nice enough to Lucian to finish his interior decorating project.

  Derrick strokes my shoulder lazily with his thumb. "You're going to get through this."

  I turn to him, setting my glass on my knee and holding it between both hands. "What if I can't?"

  "You will." He smiles at me. "Because you're amazing."

  "I hate you." I look away from him. "You always know exactly what to say to make me feel better, even if it's something simple."

  "You deserve so much better than Lucian Reddick, Amy. I just wish you could see it." He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear.

  "I know I do. It's just hard when he's so..."

  "Pretty?" he searches for the answer with me.

  That. And dominant. Desirable. Mysterious. He's like the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden. I took a bite from him, and he poisoned me. It's sickening that a part of me still wants him.

  "Yeah, pretty." I nod finally, not wanting to disclose my true feelings.

  "You need to remember something, Amy. Guys like him...they're pretty on the outside, but they're usually ugly on the inside."

  It makes perfect sense. What Janice told me in her drunken state last night continues to play through my mind. Lucian has a troubled past. I can't help but wonder what it is.

  "He is ugly on the inside," I say absentmindedly. "I've seen it time and time again. He doesn't care."

  "Exactly. Save your love for someone who does."

  When I look up at Derrick, his expression has changed. His dark eyes have a glimmer in them that I've never seen before. It's probably just the alcohol. We've already downed one whole bottle and are halfway through bottle number two.

  "It's just that no one has liked me in a long time," I huff, picking up my glass of wine and turning to toss myself back into Derrick's arms. I want cuddles, all the cuddles that Lucian Reddick has denied me. The guy has the warmth of a stone in the middle of a snowstorm. Not Derrick though. Derrick always gives good cuddles. I love it.

  He wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me close, kissing the side of my head. I close my eyes and sigh contently. This is what dating should feel like. This, plus that warm, fuzzy feeling that comes from liking someone a lot. It's the only thing missing from the scene. I can pretend though. I can pretend that everything is perfect—fall into the illusion of the perfect romance—if only for a little while.

  The wine is starting to get to me. I'm having a hard time concentrating on the television, and my eyes are growing heavy. I'm just s
o darn comfortable though that I don't want to move.

  Reality fades away, and I slip into the space between dreaming and being awake. I envision that Lucian is with me, that it's his arm around me. I imagine that he's mine, that we're dating like normal people. He's sitting on my sofa with his arm wrapped around me. The way that he looks at me speaks volumes about what we feel for each other.

  He pulls away from me gently, his impossibly blue eyes locked onto mine. I could stare at them forever, get completely lost in them and never want to be found. They're amazing, just like the rest of him.

  He leans in to kiss me, and I part my lips almost reflexively. Our mouths meet, and I expect that lush softness that I always feel from his kiss. Something is different though. His lips don't feel the same.

  My eyes flutter open, and I realize that someone is touching me. The dream that I was having fades away into a strange reality. All I see is skin. All I feel is warmth against my mouth. My head jerks back as my mind fights to put the pieces together. Derrick pulls away from me, and his eyes are wide with shock.

  He was kissing me.

  It wasn't a dream. He was really kissing me.

  I'm not sure how to react. I'm not even awake or sober enough to fully process what just happened. All I can do is stare, my hand moving to touch my lips as if I'm still not sure whether the kiss was real or not. I lick my lips and taste cherry ChapStick. I'm not wearing ChapStick. He definitely kissed me.

  I wait for him to say something—wait to think of something to say. For several seconds, we just sit there staring at each other. Then he moves in again.

  Briefly, I move away, unsure if I want him to kiss me again or not. This is all so strange. But, to be honest, the alcohol has made me a bit horny, coupled with that odd mini-dream I had.

  Derrick's lips meet mine, soft and uncertain. He closes his eyes and cradles my head, his mouth moving tenderly on top of mine. I don't reciprocate the kiss—don't part my lips to allow him entry. I'm too busy trying to figure out if I like him kissing me.