by Corgan, Sky
Flesh
Part Fourteen
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
“Can I ask you something?” It's taken everything in me to be patient enough for Janice to put her purse down. Weariness is etched across her face from a long night of work. She doesn't look like she wants to talk, but she's the only one who I think might understand the way that Lucian feels.
I should be content with the fact that he called me this afternoon. We only spoke briefly over the phone, but it made a big difference in how I feel about our relationship. He's doing his best to show that he cares, that I'm not just some fling to him. Still, the fact that he won't leave Flesh is gnawing on me like an unpredictable wild animal that might tear me apart at any moment.
I'm doing my best to accept that he needs Flesh, but the woman in me just doesn't want to allow it. Even though I do want him, I never wanted this warped relationship. Knowing that he touches other women, that he sees them naked, it makes me feel sick to my stomach. Besides, my mind keeps flitting back to our scene. He put his hands on me in a very sexual way, even when he was giving me the Flesh treatment. Does that mean he touches them the same way? If he does, it's just as good as cheating.
“I'm tired, Amy.” Janice wrinkles her forehead.
“I'll try not to take up too much of your time.” I give her a pleading look. If I don't discuss this with her, I probably won't sleep all night.
“Are you sure it can't wait until tomorrow?” She sits down on the sofa beside me and starts taking off her pink and white sneakers.
“Things are getting better with Lucian,” I begin, ignoring her obvious exhaustion.
“That's good,” she replies absentmindedly. “But?”
“But he refuses to stop working at Flesh.”
Janice sighs, her shoulders slumping. I can see the tension mounting in her jaw muscles. She takes a deep breath, sucking back potentially hurtful words. “I wish you would just get over him.”
“Part of me understands why he doesn't want to stop. We did a scene together, and...” I search for words to explain things. “I can't give him what he needs.”
“Of course you can't. You're not a submissive.” She pulls her socks off in jerking motions.
“That's not what I meant.”
“What do you mean then?” She relaxes back against the sofa, closing her eyes and wiggling her toes.
“I don't think it so much bothers me that he wants to keep working at Flesh as it does that I don't trust him. I mean, it gives him the perfect opportunity to cheat on me. I don't know what the other women who go in there look like. What if he can't stop himself and does something with one of them?” The very thought makes me chest throb with pain.
“It bothers you that he still wants to work there.” She casts a sarcastic sideways glance at me. “Don't even try to lie about it. I know you too well.”
“It does bother me.” I sulk. “I know I can't stop it though. I mean...”
Janice turns to me. “I want to be supportive of your relationship with him, I really do. But I think we all know this isn't going to have a happy ending.”
“It could.” It sounds more like a question than a statement.
“It won't.” She shakes her head. “But I know you're already committed to him. I just wonder how long it will take before he completely breaks you.”
“Well, that's not very supportive.” I frown.
“No, it's being a realist.”
“We've made progress. He's stopped avoiding my calls.” I can feel my teeth clenching as anger starts to well up inside of me. Maybe talking to her about this was a bad idea after all.
“How much effort does it take to pick up a phone?” She rolls her eyes.
“Look.” I gesture out in front of me as if I'm trying to dispel the negative feelings that the conversation is causing. “I just need to know that he's not sleeping with other women, and I need your help for that.”
“How am I supposed to help with that?” She cocks an eyebrow at me.
“Ask your Dom what Lucian does next time you go to Flesh. Ask him if Lucian is still sleeping with clients.”
“And how do you expect me to fit that into a conversation?” She scoots to the edge of her seat as if she's just waiting for an opening to get up and leave.
“I don't know. I was hoping you could figure something out.”
“Why don't you just ask Lucian?”
“Because I don't know if he'll tell me the truth.” I draw my hand up to my temple, feeling the beginning of a headache coming on.
“Look, Amy, the solution is simple. If you don't trust him, then don't date him. I'm not going to spy on your boyfriend for you. That's high school bullshit, and I have enough on my plate as it is.” Janice stands, speaking down to me in a condescending tone. “He's your problem. You deal with it.” And then she stomps off to her room, leaving an air of tension behind that makes my eyes well up with tears.
***
I tap my flower pen on my desk, staring at my monitor blankly with a hollow feeling in my chest. It seems that my relationship with Lucian is always causing a divide with my friendships. It's not really his fault though. It's my fault for always whining about him. My fault for pining after him and putting him before the other more important relationships in my life. My fault for expecting other people to go above and beyond to protect my feelings.
Lucian is out of my league emotionally. I'm ill-equipped to handle the bizarre adult situations that our relationship has forced on me. All of my dating life, I've become accustomed to things flowing smoothly. The rockiness of trying to be with such a complicated man is not something that I was ever prepared for.
I stare across the room at the back of Derrick's head, at his shoulder length dirty-blonde hair hanging in soft waves. He's been a saint through all of this. So has Janice. Sometimes, I don't feel like I deserve their friendship.
Maybe I should just give up Lucian. Perhaps it would be better if my life returned to the way it was before I met him—boring and loveless. But we've made so much progress. He feels like a project I've been assembling piece by piece. I can finally start to see the outline of something whole. All I need to do is break the wall inside of him that needs Flesh. It's the last step in having a normal relationship with him. I feel like we've come too far for me to give up now.
I have way too much time to think about it. My email inbox remains empty of any correspondence from him. Days pass by, and though Lucian and I keep contact at night, he doesn't seem interested in making progress on his interior design project.
Unfortunately, I'm not the only one who has taken notice of that. On Thursday, Tyra calls Derrick and me into her office for a meeting.
“What's up?” I ask, feeling a bit stiff. It's obvious by Tyra's hard expression that she's not very happy, which is never a good thing.
“The Reddick project.” She doesn't even look at us as she swivels in her chair, dragging her long red nails across the top of her desk. “Have either of you heard from Doctor Reddick lately?”
Derrick glances over at me as if he expects me to fess up about sleeping with the client. Suddenly, the room feels ten degrees hotter.
“No,” I lie, shaking my head. “Have you, Derrick?” I turn my attention to him.
He rolls his eyes, which I fear is a dead giveaway that something mo
re than meets the eye is going on, but then he says, “The guy isn't exactly fond of me. Why would he contact me?”
Tyra flattens her palms on her desk and gazes up at me. “Have you tried reaching out to him?”
“I Cc'd you in the emails I sent to him.” Well, all the ones that didn't contain anything personal. “He's unresponsive.”
She lets out a long, labored sigh. “Shit.”
Derrick and I both go rigid. It's not often that Tyra curses, and when she does, it's usually followed by a chewing out.
Instead of saying anything else, she picks up the phone on her desk and punches in a number, her nails making angry clicking sounds. “Hi Doctor Reddick,” she fakes a pleasant tone. “This is Tyra Rollins at Environ Design. I was just calling because no one here has heard from you in a while and I wanted to make sure that you still wanted to continue forward with your interior design project. Please give me a call whenever you get this.”
SLAM!
Derrick and I both jump when she puts the receiver down. She sighs again before looking up at me, causing a tremor of fear to race down my spine.
“I want you to keep trying to get in contact with Doctor Reddick every day next week. You will email him and call him. If we don't hear from him by Friday, then we'll know he bailed on his contract. If you do hear from him, then speed things up. I don't care how you do it, but get the furniture into his house and get the money. It's bullshit that this is taking so long.”
“Yes, ma'am,” I meekly reply. Somehow, I knew we would eventually get to this point with how Lucian has been dragging his feet on the project. I just never thought that Tyra would be so hostile about it.
“Rich flighty...,” she hesitates, “people.” It's obvious that's not the word she wanted to use, but she's trying to calm herself down.
“I hope that if he bails, you won't think this discredits up from working with future high profile clients,” Derrick dares to say.
Tyra holds up her palm to him. “Derrick, I don't want to talk about this right now. You're both dismissed. And close the door on your way out.”
I'm never happier to leave. The tension in the room was thicker than molasses. There was no way to cut it. All you could do is drown in it.
As soon as we're outside of Tyra's office and Derrick has closed the door behind us, he grabs me by the arm and pulls me to the side, speaking to me in a low tone. “What in the hell is up with that rich asshole?”
“I don't know.” The stress returns in an instant as I feel attacked for yet a second time.
“Amy, you've got to do something about this. This isn't just about making your boyfriend happy. Our careers are at stake. If Lucian bails, then neither one of us will probably ever hear the word bonus again.” His dark eyes bore into me, but I can't force myself to meet his gaze. Now I feel like so much rests on my shoulders. If I can't get Lucian to finish the interior design project, then Derrick will be pissed off at me, and who knows what Tyra will do.
“I'll try to think of something.” I take a step away from him, feeling suffocated by the panicked vibe he's exuding.
“Don't try. Do.” He turns away from me, and I listen to his heavy footfalls as he walks back to his desk.
I wrap my arms around myself and quickly return to my computer to send Lucian an e-mail, Cc'ing both Tyra and Derrick so they'll know that I'm not slacking off in regards to getting Lucian back on board with the project.
Doctor Reddick,
Please contact me as soon as possible in regards to selecting furniture for the rest of your house. We here at Environ Design would like to make the process as easy for you as possible. If you are unable to make time to physically come see all of the furniture before the purchasing process, we would like to work with you to find another way to complete your project.
Regards,
Amy Underwood
Interior Designer
Environ Design
Send and wait.
And wait and wait and wait. End result, no response.
I sigh in exasperation as I shut down my computer for the evening. As soon as I'm done, I text Lucian, “Please call me as soon as you get off of work. We need to talk.”
With nothing left to do, I head home for the evening, my mind full of all new worries regarding Lucian. How I wish he wasn't involved with my company? He's every bit as unpredictable as a client as he is as a love interest. And this does put an even greater strain on things between us.
By the time I get home, he's already responded. “I have stuff I want to talk about with you too. Have dinner with me tonight. I'll pick you up at seven.”
There's an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach as I start getting ready. I open my closet and find my little black dress, wondering if it might be too cheap for wherever he plans on taking me. The dress comes down to my knees and hugs my curves. The sequins that cover it make it glitter in the light. I've always felt sexy in it, but it doesn't exactly seem like something you'd wear to a fancy dinner.
Oh well, the goal for tonight is to charm Lucian into finishing his interior design project. I'll beg, plead, and suck dick to get him back on track. Whatever it takes.
I put the dress on, then sweep my hair to the side and curl it into soft waves. After that, I put on darker makeup than usual, wanting to channel my inner sultry Goddess. Just thinking about those two words makes me smirk. Lucian first used them when I was taking pictures of his house. That seems like ages ago. And it seems that way because it was ages ago in Environ Design time.
I slip on some black hose and a pair of black heels before taking a small black clutch from my closet, making sure that my hair and makeup look good one final, and then going to lean against the back of the sofa and stare at the door while I wait for Lucian's driver to come retrieve me. Lucian is a creature of habit, so I know he won't come up to my apartment unless coerced, and it was not a wrong assumption.
At slightly before seven, there's a knock on the door. I open it to Lucian's driver, who quickly scans me up and down with his eyes before politely smiling. “Doctor Reddick is waiting for you downstairs, Miss. Shall we?”
“We shall.” I glance around the apartment to make sure I didn't forget anything before locking the door behind myself and following him to the limo.
By the time we reach the limo, my palms are sweating. I'm going to have to figure out how to ease into the discussion about Lucian's interior design project tactfully. Our relationship still seems so fragile, and I don't want to mess things up by nagging him about the project.
“Oh wow,” Lucian says as I slide into the limo beside. “You've definitely been holding out on me with that dress.”
Almost the second that my butt hits the seat, he's tugging at one of the spaghetti straps of my dress. I scoot over until our bodies are touching, knowing that he wants the closeness. He'd probably prefer for me to sit on his lap, but I feel a bit too uneasy for that.
“You look dapper as well. Then again, you always do.” I nod towards his suit. He seems to have an endless supply of them though most of them look the same.
“Dapper,” he parrots back with a smirk.
“Not a fan of my choice of words?” I grin up at him, gazing into his gorgeous blue eyes.
“Your choice of words amuses me.” He scoops my hand up in his, splaying my fingers out. His expression is soft, somewhere between contentment and thought.
“What are you thinking?” I lace our fingers together and curl mine, feeling warmth radiating within me from his affectionate touch.
“Just things.” He gives me a sideways glance, and I can see mischief in his expression.
“Things we'll talk about later?”
“Yes.”
“I look forward to it then.” I lean against Lucian and rest my head on his shoulder.
The thought of saying what I need to say makes my grin falter. It sounds like he has something special to tell me, and all I have to say to him is that he needs to hurry up with his interior design project. I su
ppose this is the consequences of mixing work with pleasure though.
The rest of the drive is quiet though not uncomfortable. I imagine that we're both contemplating exactly what we'll say when the time comes to dish out our topics. I spend just as much time wondering what he has to tell me as I do thinking about what I'm going to say to him.
We pull up in front of a French restaurant whose name I can't even pretend to try to pronounce. I want to be wowed, but in all honesty, I'm more lost than anything. I've never heard of this place, and I never travel to this side of town, so I have no idea what to expect.
“Pick us up in an hour,” Lucian tells the driver before hooking his arm around mine and leading me to the door.
Inside, the restaurant is surprisingly quaint. The staff is all male, and all wearing suits and ties. As far as the diners go, however, I feel like Lucian and I are way overdressed.
Lucian tells the host something in French, and I scowl at the fact that I can't understand him, even if I'm sure it's nothing important. Then we're led to a table in the far corner of the restaurant away from the other diners. The host pulls out my chair, which feels a bit awkward, and I sit while he places my napkin on my lap. Lucian speaks to him in French again, and then he disappears.
“I didn't know you spoke French.” My eyes widen before I scan the room for any sign of a menu. Maybe the waiter will bring them.
“I speak a few languages.” Lucian shakes out his napkin before pulling it across his lap.
“What else do you speak besides French?”
“German, Spanish, Japanese. What I like to call the basics for travel.” He smiles at me, steepling his hands on the table.
“Oh, you lost class points for putting your elbows on the table,” I tease him.
He drags his elbows off the table for a second before putting them right back in place and letting out a short laugh. “It's 2015. I think elbows on the table are acceptable at most places these days.”