Lust & Leverage

by Kaye Blue

  I didn’t know what she would do.

  Old experience had taught me that Mia had no problem hurting me if she thought it was necessary, that my vulnerability was not something that mattered to her. On instinct, I tensed, bracing myself for what was to come, hating myself for putting myself in this position, but knowing I had little alternative. I reminded myself that I wasn’t the boy I had been when Mia had rejected me. I was an adult now, rich beyond my wildest imagination, powerful, a person who set the stage, was the ruler of his domain.

  All those things were true, but the reminders didn’t help me. Because in this moment, I wasn’t any of those things.

  No, I was just Alex, Alex at the mercy of Mia, the one weakness I still had, the only person who had the power to destroy me.

  Worst of all, I was doing this myself.

  I had what I had always wanted: the upper hand. But I had willingly relinquished it, had allowed my emotions, the care for her that I hadn’t quite been able to snuff out to make the decision for me.

  And even with everything on the line, the hurt that I didn’t know how I would be able to endure, the embarrassment, the chance that she might reject me, I didn’t regret it.

  I probably should have, but in this moment, nothing felt more right. So I’d have to do something that didn’t come to me naturally.

  I would have to trust her.

  I continued to stand where I was, determined I wouldn’t leave until she had spoken one way or the other, nervous by what she might say, but unwilling to cower away from it.

  And finally, after I had begun to lose the hope that had somewhat returned, she spoke.

  “You can stay,” she said.

  I wanted to celebrate, pump my fists, do something to acknowledge the relief that had loosened the vise that had been squeezing my chest.

  But I didn’t.

  Instead I walked back to the bed, pulled back the covers, and climbed under them.

  I hadn’t asked her to, but Mia joined me.

  We lay next to each other, our hands touching, the room silent save for the sound of our breathing.

  And yet again I was stunned.

  How was it possible that something like this, simply lying here with her was as meaningful as it was, made me feel at peace?

  I suspected I knew the answer, but I wouldn’t dare acknowledge it.

  Instead I did the next best thing.

  I reached for Mia, and as I made love to her through the night, taking as much of her as I could, I hoped it would be enough to last when she was gone.

  Twenty

  Mia

  *

  When I woke up the next morning, or more accurately, afternoon, I remained in a state of disbelief.

  I still had no clue what had come over Alex yesterday, but whatever it was it seemed to have changed things.

  He had made love to me all through the night, taken me passionately, tenderly, the physical expression of all the emotions that I could see playing on his face.

  I hadn’t expected that, but I had liked it, loved it, wished it would last. That intensity, that connection had been combustible and could become addictive. Of course, I still had no idea what drove him, and after a while, I had stopped even trying to figure it out.

  There was no point. I didn’t know Alex any better now than I had before, so I couldn’t do anything but listen to my gut and live in the moment, hope that I wouldn’t get hurt too badly.

  Deep down, I could admit that I wanted this Alex, but I couldn’t rely on whatever had happened last night, the old trust that I hadn’t quite been able to shake. Acknowledging that trust that still existed despite what he had done made me uncomfortable, so much so that I got out of bed, making sure to be quiet enough not to wake him.

  The penthouse was enormous, so rather than using the attached bathroom that I had taken as my own, I went to the opposite side of the floor to the second bed and bathroom to dress.

  When I finished, Alex was awake, dressed in his clothes from yesterday, looking rumpled and sexy.

  “Good morning. Afternoon,” I said.

  “Afternoon. I haven’t slept this late in years,” he said.

  “Me either,” I responded.

  “Still an early riser, huh?” he asked.

  He shifted to look at me, the sun making his green eyes look like flaming emeralds. My breath froze in my lungs for a moment, his sheer handsomeness not allowing me to do anything but stare at him.

  But I recovered as quickly as I could, then nodded curtly. “Yeah. Haven’t been able to break the habit. Always stuff to do.”

  “The early bird gets the worm,” he said.

  I smiled, as did he, both of us no doubt remembering how I had said those words to him countless times before. When we were in high school, Alex had never had much interest in showing up on time. So I’d gone to him every morning, tapping on his window, then climbing in and physically dragging him out of bed if that was what it took.

  He never appreciated my interference then, but when he had walked across the stage to get his diploma, I had clapped with all of my might, proud of him for what he had accomplished. And when he paused long enough to flash me a quick smile, I knew that he was proud too.

  “I’m glad that lesson stuck,” he said.

  I didn’t respond, but instead just stood there, though I noticed that he seemed sincere.

  It was the first time we had even referenced something related to the past that didn’t send him into a fit of rage. That suggested to me that I was right that something had changed the night before, but I wouldn’t examine it too closely.

  It seemed, though, that Alex wasn’t quite done.

  “So, the question I asked last night…” he said.

  “Which question?” I asked, immediately going on the defensive.

  I tried not to betray what I was thinking, but Alex must have sensed it for he looked at me, his eyes apologetic.

  “About you not being a virgin. I wasn’t trying to condemn you…” At my arched brow, which I was certain conveyed my skepticism, he smiled, but then continued. “Well, not entirely. I’m just surprised, I guess. You seemed pretty adamant about what you wanted for your future.”

  I could hardly believe that he was going into this topic, prying into something so personal, and I had more than half a mind to ignore the question.

  It was his sincerity that allowed me to even consider answering. I looked at him for a moment longer, and then, by unspoken agreement we both made our way to the couch where I sat on one end, with Alex on the far other.

  I tapped my fingers, a nervous tick I had never quite been able to stamp out. The topic itself didn’t make me uncomfortable but discussing it with Alex, revealing vulnerability without knowing if he would use it against me was uncomfortable.

  But then again, I didn’t have to worry about impressing him, didn’t care what he thought of me, which gave me a freedom to speak my mind. A feeling that was rare.

  “Yeah, I was pretty adamant about certain things, but I was a kid. Didn’t know anything about life, the world,” I finally said.

  “You probably knew more than you’re willing to give yourself credit for,” he responded.

  “It’s nice of you to say, but I think the way my life has turned out proves that’s not true,” I said.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  I had looked away, my gaze focused on the shiny floor that a team of housekeepers worked to keep in a polished shine. But when I glanced at his expression, I saw the question in his face, the curiosity.

  And the acceptance.

  “Did I ever tell you why I was so adamant that I would only be with my husband?” I asked.

  I honestly didn’t remember. Alex and I had talked about everything, and there was no possible way for me to remember what I had told him and what I hadn’t.

  “No,” he said. “I just know you were pretty unwavering about it. I guess it could have something to do with your mother.”

  Peo
ple didn’t talk about her, ever. It was an unspoken rule that was never violated. Were Alex anyone else, I might have been offended.

  Should have been offended especially because it was him.

  He’d done little to remind me of the person I had shared such deep and painful parts of myself with back then, but when I looked at him now I saw nothing but sincerity.

  In truth, a part of me actually welcomed this. I had no one that I could share these things with.

  My father was a no-go. He couldn’t bring himself to say her name, let alone discuss her, and what her leaving had meant to me.

  I could have told Chelsea, but she hadn’t known me well back then, and the idea of opening up, sharing that particular hurt with her wasn’t something that appealed.

  Ironically, Alex was the perfect person to share this with, though I couldn’t say I was grateful for his behavior yesterday, or the question now. Still, I decided to take this opportunity for what it was.

  “Still perceptive,” I said as a way of leading into the conversation.

  “Sometimes,” he responded.

  “Well, you hit that directly on the head. Yes. It has to do with my mother,” I said.

  I looked away again, my body needing some physical way to react to the emotion that thinking about her caused.

  But, after a deep breath, I looked at Alex again.

  “Did I ever tell you how she and my father hooked up?” I asked.

  He shook his head.

  “It was a real romance, Alex,” I said.

  There was no doubt my sarcasm was apparent, but Alex didn’t respond to it. So, after a moment, I continued.

  “Before she left, she liked to tell the story about how she was the prom queen and he was the quarterback, some perfect fairy-tale high school crap,” I said, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

  “I take it their story wasn’t quite so rosy?” he asked.

  I snorted. “Understatement. I found out that, yes, she was the prom queen, and yes, he was the quarterback, but theirs was no fairy-tale romance. They hooked up at some stupid high school party, and I was the souvenir.”

  I glanced at him, wondering if I would see any reaction. I didn’t, but then I recalled the circumstances of his birth. From what he told me, his mother had no idea who his father was, and didn’t even pretend to try to remember. At least I knew who my parents were, though at this point it felt like little consolation.

  “Anyway, she finds herself in a situation, ends up married to a guy she didn’t even know and turns out she didn’t actually like, stuck with a kid she didn’t want,” I said.

  Part of me knew I was being less than charitable, but even I had my limits. Any grace I might have had for her had flown out of the window when she had walked out and never looked back.

  I liked to tell myself that anyway, but it would be a lie to say that her leaving didn’t hurt to this very day, didn’t rip at me to my very core.

  Because it did.

  I glanced at Alex, could see his expression, could feel the connection.

  It was something else we had in common. Mothers who hadn’t cared enough to stick around. Alex had been dumped off with a stepfather not worth the coffin he was buried in, me left with the father too stubborn, too proud, too hurt to ever get over his loss.

  “We are quite the pair,” I said sadly.

  “Yes, we are,” he whispered.

  I sighed, then propelled myself off the couch, unable to sit any longer.

  I didn’t exactly pace, simply moved around the living area, my feet silent on the cold wood of the floor, the chill giving me some sense of grounding.

  “I swore that would never happen to me,” I said.

  “What, you didn’t want to get knocked up by the prom king?” he asked.

  “No, I did not. I didn’t want to get knocked up by anyone, didn’t want to do anything that wasn’t of my choosing. My mother did something I could never forgive her for, something I probably will never have the chance to forgive her for, but she taught me a very valuable lesson.”

  “What lesson?” he asked.

  I stopped moving and stood still, then turned to look at him.

  “She taught me to never be at anyone’s mercy. Ever.”

  “And sex would put you at someone’s mercy?” he asked.

  “As I said, I was young then. Had these fairy-tale fantasies about finding the love of my life, settling down, having the perfect little family that I had always dreamed of,” I muttered, my voice twisted with scorn.

  I looked at Alex, saw that his expression had changed somewhat, and didn’t doubt what he was thinking.

  He wouldn’t say it, and neither would I, but I knew he thought I could have had that family with him.

  If only it had been that simple, but nothing ever was.

  “So I grew up. Figured out that I didn’t need to be quite so hard and fast about things, that I could take care of myself.”

  “So that’s why?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I replied.

  It was true, but not the full truth. I conveniently left out the part when I had realized that Alex was the only person worth waiting for, and after what I’d done, and after he had gone, there was no sense in doing that.

  No, I kept that to myself, hoped that he didn’t even suspect, and he seemed to accept my explanation.

  “So are you going to do that?” he asked.

  “Do what?”

  “Settle down. Have a perfect little family.”

  I laughed, the sound not amused, but instead bitter, angry, one I didn’t exactly like hearing come from my throat.

  “I know you’ve always thought I’m naive, Alex, but I’m not. At least not about that. Whatever fairy tale I had in my head was just that, a fairy tale. Now I’m about the business of living my life, my real life,” I said.

  “You always used to tell me to dream,” he countered.

  “And you always used to tell me that dreams were for idiots,” I responded.

  “And you told me I was wrong,” he said, not missing a beat.

  “Well, looks like the truth won me over,” I said.

  Alex looked hurt by that, something that struck me as strange, though I didn’t dare explore it.

  I didn’t like having that conversation, didn’t like it one little bit. These were things I didn’t even like to think about, let alone talk about, but when I finished I felt some degree of catharsis.

  I looked at Alex, waiting for him to ask more, like who, for example.

  He didn’t. Instead he seemed to accept my answer and then, finally, stood.

  I could see that our time here was over, and I tried to bite down the bitter disappointment.

  “I’m late enough as it is. I need to do a few things at the office,” he said.

  “Have a nice day,” I said.

  It seemed such an odd, stilted, formal thing to say, but also appropriate.

  “Okay,” he said.

  I expected him to go then, but he stood, waiting for a few seconds longer, and I continued to look at him, wondering why.

  “I’m free tomorrow,” he said, sounding almost tentative.

  “I’ll make sure I’m here,” I responded, not wanting to acknowledge my role here, one that had everything to do with sex and nothing to do with the emotion that I was certain we had just shared, but not sure what else to say either.

  “If you’re up for it, I can take you to go see some of the sights,” he said.

  His words floored me. That was the absolute last thing I had been expecting him to say, but I didn’t allow my surprise to make me miss the opportunity.

  “I’d love to,” I said.

  He flashed a quick smile, a genuine one, and then nodded, his form of good-bye.

  When he left, I stood where I was, staring at the door, wondering what had happened, what had changed.

  I didn’t know, but now I had something to look forward to, felt something like closeness with Alex.

 
I allowed myself to smile.

  Twenty-One

  Alex

  *

  “So did you enjoy yourself?” I asked late the next day when Mia and I finally got back to the penthouse.

  “It was all right,” she said.

  She sounded nonchalant, but the smile that spread across her face absolutely gave away her excitement.

  “Just okay?” I asked.

  She smiled a little brighter.

  “Yeah, just okay,” she said.

  I chuckled, but didn’t press the matter.

  Instead I deposited the bags I had been holding onto the floor.

  “What’s your thing with ceramic mugs?” I asked.

  “You can never have too many vessels for coffee, and besides, they were so cute,” she said.

  As she spoke, she started going through the bags, retrieving her packages, and I watched her, feeling an undeniable joy at her happiness. The mugs were such a small thing, but they brought Mia happiness that I seldom experienced. A multimillion dollar payout didn’t even merit a smile from me anymore, but seeing her happiness made my heart thud with envy and excitement.

  She’d bought at least four mugs, a couple of T-shirts, some shot glasses. Well, she had tried to. I had smacked her hand when she reached for her wallet, and during the rest of the day she hadn’t done that again.

  It was a simple thing really, a couple of cheap trinkets, dinner at a food truck, but those moments made me feel prouder than any other I had shared with anyone else.

  I had bought women jewelry that cost tens of thousands of dollars, but could barely remember it. I knew I’d never forget the look on Mia’s face when I’d bought her a giant snow globe with a miniature replica of the city inside.

  It didn’t take a leap to figure out why I treasured that moment so much.

  For so many years, Mia had taken care of me, given me food, scraped together enough cash to buy me the cap and gown that I’d had no intention of purchasing, and didn’t have the means to anyway.

  I’d never been able to give her that back, had never been able to give her anything, and though this certainly wouldn’t make up for it, it made me happy, proud to have done something for her.

  “I can’t believe you lived here all this time and never saw any of that stuff,” she said incredulously.