Kübler-Ross’s first state of grief: denial
“When did she start taking drugs?” Sean tapped a pencil on his desk, but caught it as the nervous tic it was and set the pencil down.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sabrina finished the soda and crumpled up the can. She studiously avoided his eyes.
Sean unclenched his jaw and deliberately relaxed his shoulders. He took a deep breath and controlled the tone of his voice with effort. “What made my sister start using?”
“I don’t know.” She tossed the can in the trash. “Are we done here?”
“What are you on?” Sean asked, leaning back in his chair, attempting to seem non-threatening.
“Fuck you,” she said, pushing to her feet.
“I can help you.” He launched to his feet, casual pose forgotten.
“I’m not your sister. I don’t need saving.” She headed for the door.
He followed her. “Why do you take drugs? Is it because of the porn?”
“Why do stockbrokers take drugs?” she countered. “For thousands of different reasons. You’d like to put Desiree in a neat little box and tie her up with a ribbon. Poor little Catholic girl runs afoul in the big city. Drugs led her into porn and killed her. The end. It’s not that simple.”
Sean’s hands fisted. “I know that,” he gritted out. “I want to understand.”
“Then walk a mile in her stilettos, hot shot. You want to see what happened to her? Live her life. Or do you lack the balls?”
“Been there. Done that. Still don’t understand.”
“You did a porn? I’m not talking a leaked sex tape with Gladys the disapproving nurse.” Sabrina jerked a thumb at the closed door.
Sean repressed a shudder at the mental image. “I stripped for a bit to see if I could figure out why she did it.”
Sabrina eyed him up and down. “As what, the nerdy professor?”
“As whatever they told me to be.”
“How did it make you feel?”
Sean wasn’t used to being on the other end of that question. “Nothing that helped me understand why she overdosed. Look, Sabrina, I’m limited in what I can do. But before you walk out this door, let me try and help. I can recommend a methadone treatment if you’re addicted to opioids. Or if you’ve been using crystal meth like my sister was, we can work out a detox program.”
“Addicted?” Her head reared back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She opened the door and strode out.
“Sabrina!” Sean called out. “Please don’t go.”
But she didn’t listen, dodging through the waiting area. Sabrina made a beeline for the front door.
Handled that like a champ.
He rubbed his hand over his face.
*** ***
Liz was early. Jonathan had been eager to go to Sarah’s and Cole’s house to swim in their indoor pool. It really was a decadence to float in seventy-degree water in the middle of November in New York City. She was almost sorry she was missing the fun. Baby Christopher looked so cute in his water wings and life jacket, splashing around and chortling.
Sitting on the steps in Washington Park, Liz wrapped her jacket around her and resisted the urge to text Sean. He’d be here in another fifteen minutes—give or take. The weather was mild enough that she was able to enjoy people watching without feeling the cold that much. Liz had dressed casually today, just a pair of soft blue jeans and a Michael Kors red crewneck sweater. She pulled back her shoulder-length hair into a pony tail. Sarah had thrown a Hermes scarf around Liz’s neck, claiming the beige and black pattern gave her outfit interest. Liz fiddled with it and hoped she wouldn’t lose it.
“Hello, gorgeous,” Sean said from behind her.
His low voice sent tingles through her. Yeah, she had it bad. Letting him lift her to her feet, she wondered if he’d kiss her again. But instead of another panty dropping one like last night, he placed a chaste kiss on her cheek.
“You smell nice,” Liz said. His cologne had her toes curling and her libido wanted to drag him back to her apartment and have her way with him. But she followed him to the stone chessboard tables set up throughout the park and sat down across from him.
Be good.
He held her hand, stroking his fingers across her knuckles. “Thanks, I took a shower today especially for you,” he teased.
“I feel special.” She grinned at him.
“Do you play?” Sean held up a bag and shook it.
“Not really.”
“I’ll show you. If we’re eating and not playing, the old guys have a fit.”
Liz looked around and saw a few more tables were filling up with young and old, serious players and players who were laughing and chatting more than moving their pieces. Sean handed her the picnic basket and she peeked inside while he set up the board.
There was a crusty loaf of bread, a plastic container of olives, bags of cut up veggies and fruit, and a few other containers that looked like bruschetta, hummus, and dip.
“I should have brought a jug of wine,” she murmured, flushing in pleasure that he remembered what she liked. They had chatted about food on Skype; it was the first thing they bonded over. They were both foodies. He told her he thought the copywriter on the Zingerman catalog should win a Pulitzer when she confessed to splurging on wild mugolio pine syrup.
“If you’re trying to distract me with love poetry, it’s working.”
“This is a great spread,” she said, laying out the little dip trays. She poured some olive oil from a fancy glass decanter and then ground pepper from a wooden mill on top.
“I cheated,” Sean confessed, ripping a piece of bread off the loaf. “My next-door neighbor is a party planner. This is his ‘romance basket.’”
“Tell him he gets two thumbs way up.” Liz chewed on a jicama stick and looked at the chessboard. She had a vague idea how to play. “I thought there was going to be a concert.”
“Yeah, there’s a jazz band competition coming up. I figured we should get here early to score some seats.”
Dipping the bread into the peppery olive oil, Liz smiled. “This is a pretty good first date.” She looked up at him from under her lashes.
He was clean shaven, his strong jaw relaxed into a dreamy grin. His eyes had flecks of green in them, or maybe it was a reflection off his heavy flannel shirt. Liz rubbed her calf over his and watched his eyes widen.
“I want you, too,” she told him.
Sean cleared his throat. “Good.”
“I’m complicated,” she said, stuffing the bread in her mouth before she ruined the moment by saying too much or too little.
“I work with computers a lot. If I can figure out algorithms, I can figure out you.” He twisted off the thermos and poured them both a rich, fragrant coffee. “Jamaican Blue Mountain.”
“Now, you’re just trying to impress me.”
“Is it working?” he quirked an eyebrow.
She nodded.
“So what’s so complicated?” Sean asked. “You like sex.” He ticked off reasons on his fingers. “You want me, too.” He waggled his fingers. “But you still don’t trust me.”
“It’s not like that,” Liz said. “If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t be here. We’re going to meet Sarah and Cole next week, and then the rest of the group.”
“I have to get your friends’ approval before we can date?”
Liz looked around and lowered her voice. “No, I’m going to fuck your brains out. You’re meeting my friends so that they can decide if you’re going to be allowed at the FATE meetings.”
Sean swallowed. “I can live with that.”
“I thought you might.”
“So what’s so complicated?”
Liz sighed and cupped her hands around the coffee. She drank it black to savor the flavor of the expensive blend, but he—or his neighbor—had thought to pack almond milk in case she wanted to lighten the coffee. “I almost want to fuck you first and then tell you in case
you go screaming off into the sunset.”
“I solemnly swear to fuck you first before running away in terror.” Sean held up a hand.
Liz laughed.
“Are you going to tell me or should I guess?”
“I’m getting to it,” she said, looking away at the band setting up their instruments.
“Did you, y’know, catch something?” he asked softly.
“What?” she screeched. “No. Cancer.” At his expression, Liz elaborated. “Sorry, you threw me for a moment. I’ve tested negative for all STDs. You?” She arched an eyebrow at him.
He nodded. “Clean.”
That was a relief. “I’m on the pill, too.”
“Good,” he flashed a wolf’s smile at her before getting serious. “Now, what’s this about cancer?”
Liz blew out a sigh. “It’s in remission. I had a rough couple of years. I had radiation and chemo, and . . . surgery.” She forced herself to look at him. “You said you saw my movies, right?”
“Yeah . . .” He tilted his head as though he was trying to figure out where she was going with this.
“Notice anything different?”
When he continued to look at her, she thrust her chest at him.
“I-I thought you were just wearing a tight bra,” he stammered.
“Sean, there’s not a bra in the world that can make double Ds look like Bs. And if there is, I wouldn’t want to wear it. I had to have a double mastectomy.” Her voice hitched on the last word.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “That sounds traumatic.”
“It was better than dying.” Liz gave a short laugh. “But it’s been a transition.” She took a deep breath. “I got the reconstruction surgery, but there’s no sensation in them. They’re just bumps that make my sweaters hang right.” Liz waved her hands over her chest. “So that’s kind of a bummer. Is it a deal breaker?” She risked a look at him.
“Not even remotely,” he said, his voice husky.
I will not cry. He says that now, but wait until he sees the scars. Wouldn’t he be constantly comparing my new body to my old voluptuous one?
“Disappointed?” She kept the tremor out of her voice with iron will.
“Just means I can spend more time playing with your pussy.” He shot a look of pure sin at her that left her gaping.
Liz swallowed hard. “There is that.”
“So any more complications I should be aware of?”
Jonathan. No, my son is not a complication.
Yet, she didn’t bring him up. “It’s . . . uh, been a while for me.” She cleared her throat. “Years—even before the cancer.” Liz could only look at him for short moments at a time because she was afraid he’d see the need in her eyes. The dusting of scruff on his jaw tempted her to kiss his soft lips.
“Why?” He frowned at her. “Does it have something to do with why you left the industry?”
“You could say that,” Liz hedged, risking another glance at his intense, dark eyes. She could get lost in them.
“Were you . . . raped?” he asked gently.
“Jesus Christ, you jump to conclusions,” she said, smacking her hand on the table. He was easier to fantasize about when he wasn’t talking shit.
“Well, I don’t know. You’re being so mysterious, I’m thinking worst-case scenario.” He threw up his hands in aggravation.
“No, it was nothing like that. I just outgrew the porn industry. It got boring.” That wasn’t a total lie. It had started getting old. All the excitement was taken out of sex. It was a job and it had gotten harder and harder to have a real orgasm as time went on. “Sex wasn’t a priority. I didn’t have anyone I wanted to be intimate with.” Liz looked around to see if anyone was listening in on the conversation. “Until now.”
“Okay, so we can take it slow. I’ve got some issues, too.” He was about to say something when the first band started warming up. “So much for our chess game,” Sean said, gesturing to the board.
“Lunch was fantastic.” She helped him pack up the leftovers.
They cleaned up the table and vacated it for two intense looking gentlemen wrapped in wool trench coats. Liz saw them setting up a timer and putting out gorgeous, hand-carved chess pieces. The band opened up with swing music and she and Sean danced. Gasping for breath and giggling, Liz was relieved when the second band played slower, a soulful jazz that eased over the park like a cozy blanket.
Sean wrapped his arms around her while they watched the musicians. Liz felt his hardness through the thick fabric of her jeans. He rocked his body in time with the bass line and she wanted to rub her backside against the length of him. Sean slipped his hand under her sweater, his fingers tracing over her stomach. She tensed, wondering if he’d forget and go higher to cup a breast that was no longer normal. But he didn’t and she relaxed against him as he continued to caress her rib cage and side.
She wanted his fingers lower, but the crowd was packed tightly around them now. They would surely notice if she unzipped her pants. Tilting her head to the side, Liz willed him to nuzzle her neck. Pulling off Sarah’s five hundred dollar scarf, she stuffed it in her coat pocket. Sean didn’t disappoint, pressing soft, wet kisses at the juncture of her throat. When he started to use his teeth, Liz couldn’t help the little sigh that escaped her.
“Like that?” he said in her ear. His hot breath sent shivers over her sensitized body.
“You want to get out of here?” she answered.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
“Let’s go to your place,” Liz said. Jonathan’s toys were all over the apartment and she didn’t want to have that conversation yet. Not when she was so wet and shaking—she was about to slam Sean against a statue and have her way with him.
“My place?” He coughed. “Uh, my roommates are studying for a big exam.”
“Fuck,” she said, her desire tempered by frustration.
“I know a place. Not far from here.”
“Hurry,” she whimpered.
Chapter Six
Liz recognized the building Sean was steering her toward with a slow dread. The quick walk didn’t do anything to calm her raging hormones, but the sight of where they were going had her putting on the brakes. It was an NYU building, the same building where Professor Jenkins had her office.
“I can’t go in there,” she said.
“Huh? Why? There’s no one around. It’s a Saturday. The last place anyone wants to be is their advisor’s office on a weekend.”
Liz let him pull her inside. He was right. There wasn’t anyone milling about the corridors. But if they got caught, she would lose that scholarship for sure. “What if someone catches us?”
“We’re not trespassing. I’m . . . I’m a student here. And besides, we’ll have our clothes on.”
“We will?” she said mournfully, before remembering that she didn’t want to be caught naked and doing the wild thing in the place she was going to work.
“Slow. This is going to happen slow.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m still going to make you come, however.”
Liz was speechless as he propelled her down the halls. Thankfully, they didn’t go into number seven. Liz didn’t think she could handle that, working in the same office they fooled around in. She’d never get anything done.
Sean pulled her into office number three and locked the door behind them.
“How did you know this place would be empty?” Liz said.
“I didn’t.”
Not bothering with the lights, he pulled her into her arms. Oh, that kiss. The same fierce one he plastered on her the other night. Thoughts fled as her hands greedily clutched his shoulders. Liz was dimly aware he was backing her up. When her knees hit something, a couch maybe, they sank down on it.
Liz let him roll them so they were on their sides. Her mouth never left his and it was luxurious to just kiss. No one ever wanted to see kisses on camera. It was boring. In porn, mouths were for moaning or full of cock or pussy. This sweet glide, the
desperate press of lips, made Liz ache. Sean popped open the button of her jeans and tugged them halfway down her hips. She unbuttoned his flannel shirt and splayed her hands over his t-shirt, which covered the hard muscles on his chest. He was so warm and the rich scents of musk, soap, and masculinity had her eyes rolling back in her head.
“You are so gorgeous,” he muttered.
“I want to touch you.” Liz tugged his T-shirt out of his pants. Gliding her hands over his chiseled abs, she sighed. “It’s been so long.”
Sean eased her jeans down past her knees. As he ravaged her neck with quick nips and the rough abrade of his five o’clock shadow, Liz opened her legs to give him better access. “Yes,” she moaned when he pushed aside the damp silk of her panties.
“So wet and creamy.” Sean took her mouth again, his tongue exploring hers. Meanwhile, his fingers were demanding on her clit.
Digging her fingers into his shoulders, Liz met his kiss with an intensity that pressed him back against the couch.
Voices in the hallway and the sound of a light turning on made them freeze.
“Shh,” he said, unnecessarily, in her ear, his fingers still flickering fast and slick over her throbbing bud.
Laughter echoed down the hall and another door closed.
“Are we okay?” Liz murmured, almost afraid to breathe. Her body was twitching with each stroke.
“Maybe.” He kissed the corner of her mouth and held her tightly. But the waiting was taking too long, so she trailed her tongue over his lips until he was kissing her breathless again.
So good. So damned good.
Her legs shook and the sweet release took her by surprise. Liz gasped, a high shriek into his mouth as her orgasm shuddered through her. She felt light, free, endorphins wildly spinning her.
Sean lifted his head up and then grinned at her. “Shh.”
“You shush,” she stage whispered, hitting him in the chest because his fingers were still dancing inside her and her legs were spasming in pleasure.
He eased up his stroke, murmuring against her mouth, “I wanted to do that since the first time I saw you on Skype.”
He pulled his fingers out and licked them. She grabbed his hand and deep throated his fingers. Sean grunted at the suction.
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