“Why didn’t you tell me she was your lover?” I ask, pretty sure I already know the answer.
“Because you’re so psychotic about her. You’ve been obsessed with the competition between you two for so long I knew you would never let your guard down with me if I told you she was my ex-girlfriend. I didn’t lie about it; I just didn’t make it a point to tell you.”
“So anytime I want to trust someone I should ask them, ‘Did you screw Valerie James?’ and then I will know who to trust?”
“No, but I bet you’d get some answers you didn’t expect.” He chuckled.
“Well, I know she has half the journalism world wrapped around her fingers, but to her credit I thought it was her talent and the Ladies World brand, not her legs and her fake red hair.”
“Oh, she’s a natural redhead. Trust me.”
“Argh!” I pull and try to break free from his embrace, but he doesn’t let me go, just laughs. It makes me laugh too. “Fine, I don’t want to know any more about you and her.”
“There is no me and her. There is just me, and I want you. Besides, you’re wrong about her.”
“Oh really? Do tell,” I egg him on. I can’t wait to hear what bullshit she’s told him.
“Val doesn’t like you,” he says bluntly. Mark’s right, he is honest. “But she does respect you. She told me you called her a whore in front of a presentation the first time you two met. She admitted she talked to an editor friend or two about hassling you when you applied because she thought it would teach you a lesson about playing nice in the sandbox. But she had no idea they would take it as a blockade. She was actually kind of proud when Lynx hit the stands. She thought you were a worthy opponent.”
“I didn’t mean to call her that, it just, well, I was—”
“Mad because she didn’t know or care who you were.”
“She told you that?”
“No, but I’ve seen you in action. That’s why you two could never work together. You’re way too much similar.”
“See, how am I supposed to trust you or open my body to you if all I keep thinking is whether or not you’re comparing me to Valerie? All my life I’ve been behind her, cleaning up the crumbs off her table. In school I was in her shadow, when I got into the journalism field, I was in her shadow; she even had a Sandstone Ventures bailout before me. Now, I find out she’s had you too. Everything I do with you, I’ll know she has already done. You’re... used.”
“I’m sorry, I forgot you were a virgin when we met,” Mark replies incredulously. It makes me laugh some more.
“I wasn’t. By far.” I slap him on the leg. The feel of his body around mine, warm and luscious makes me want to forget this day ever happened.
“If you don’t want to do something she’s done, then do something new. For this day, and this day only, I will be your submissive and you can give me the orders.” Mark moves around off the couch and gets on his knees before me.
My eyes widen in shock. Is he serious? The Mark Stone who is always in control, will submit himself to my orders? Then a smile starts to play at my lips.
I take a moment to imagine the possibilities. What do I want him to do? My first instinct is to look toward his actual bedroom, not the “playroom” he’s taken me in, and ask him to make love to me there for the very first time. I decide against it. If we ever make love in his bed I want it to be at his invitation, not some power play of mine. Reaching down, I toy with his tie a moment. He bends his head down to kiss my hand.
“Strip,” I say. Mark starts to undo his tie in a hurry. “No, no, no. I didn’t say take your clothes off, I said strip. Put on a show. Let me see your stuff, big guy.”
Mark laughs. He rises and goes over to the windows and draws the shades. Stopping by the stereo, he programs in some numbers and some slow R&B music begins to fill the room.
“Sorry, that’s as close to strip-tastic as my music gets.” I almost protest when I realize the song he has picked is “Let’s Stay Together” but decide to just lean back and enjoy the show.
“Let’s see some moves,” I catcall from my position on the couch. He begins to slowly pump his hips with a big grin on his face. I can tell he is having fun with this even though he doesn’t have the slightest idea what he’s doing. He opens one side of his suit coat grinding towards me then twists his back attempting to remove it fully. His arm gets stuck in the sleeve and he ends up spending the whole chorus flopping around beating at the trapped sleeve like it’s some kind of parasite attempting to devour him. We both laugh as he subdues the monster and throws it across the room victoriously.
He takes off his tie, clearly he’s had more practice at this, and kisses one end, then runs it up the length of my body until it rests below my chin. He draws close to me, like he is going to pick up the tie with his teeth, but instead leans over and kisses me deeply. The song changes to Prince’s “Kiss” just at the perfect time.
“You timed that,” I say.
“Nope, I had no idea that was next. I just took advantage of it.” He laughs and turns his back to me, wiggling his butt in the worst shake down I’ve ever seen. He is trying to unbutton his shirt but I see him fumbling with each button as he tries to undo them. I am just about tell him it’s okay when he abandons the effort entirely and just rips the shirt open, sending buttons flying across the room. He turns and holds open his shirt, his chest peeking through the separated fabric, my reaction to this has gone from curiosity to humorous acceptance to arousal as I look at the chest and imagine my hands running across it.
I reach out and pull him down on the couch with me, taking his hands and pinning him back as I push him against the arm. Leaning down, I rub my tongue up his abdomen to his chest, feeling his passion rise beneath me. He kisses me again and tries to get back up but I put my hand on his warm chest, feeling his heart pounding under my touch.
“But I’m not done,” he complains.
“Yes, you are,” I say fervently, kissing him again and enjoying the feel of his lips. They are the perfect size and fullness to fit instinctively with mine. It’s just like they were made for me.
“But I’ve still got the big finale,” he responds, pushes his hips against me, his obvious erection rubbing against my leg.
“Honey, trust me. That dance is over,” I give a snide head shake as I say it.
“Better keep my day job?” he asks sheepishly.
“Yes. In fact, get a second one.” I kiss him again, my hand running over the top of his bulge. I love the flirty, playful moments we have. We definitely haven’t experienced enough of those.
Planting small kisses, I reach down to undo his belt and realize I should have at least let him get that far before stopping him. I yank and turn the leather until he reaches down to help me. I slap his hands and he pulls back with a surprised smile.
“I thought you said I was in charge.”
He nods and lays back, chuckling as I fondle his buckle way too long before finally coaxing it into opening up. Crouching between his legs, I run my finger down his zipper, feeling him move and jump under my teasing touch. Locating the tab, I hold it up and lean over to grab it in my teeth. I’ve never done anything like this before and I’m really nervous; it will just look stupid or I’ll chip an incisor but I give it a try. It slides down nicely, a little jerky at spots but mostly in a fluid motion the way I imagined in my head.
“Oh my god, that was hot,” he says, his jaws clamped in arousal. “I’m not going to last much longer if you keep that up.”
“Better think other thoughts, big guy, because if you come before I do you’ll be the one getting spanked today,” I remark sternly.
“Mmm, that sounds lovely.” He lifts his hips so I can pull his pants and briefs all the way off and I see his urgent need, present and ready. I take him in my mouth, just the tip at first, then more of him as my hands go to work enlivening and enjoying him. I love everything about this man–his smell, his taste, the way I feel him grow when he’s inside my body.
> “Seriously, I’m going to—”
“Shhh,” I soothe. Standing just long enough to strip myself, I return and straddle him placing my body directly over his engorged cock. I put him just in my opening, letting him feel my wetness and desire. He attempts to thrust into me but I keep my hand steady and allow only the smallest access.
A tense smile crosses his face and I wonder if he’s worried I’m just going to tease him and leave him, but he should know better than that. We are both way too far along to walk away from this now.
“How bad do you want it?” I say, inserting him just a little more. I can see he’s at the cross-section of pleasure and pain. It’s something I understand all too well. He taught it to me.
“I want it,” he whispers, barely able to talk, the huskiness of his voice driving me even farther into lust. Then he speaks clearly, never breaking eye contact. “I want you.”
Lowering my body on his shaft, I melt around him as he fills me in a way no one else has ever or will ever. I move my body up and down, feeling every luscious movement press against my channel and entice my escalating climax. Over and over I lift myself, slightly rotating my hips and plunging myself down. I love the ability to look down and see his face, eyes closed–pleasure obvious. My vision grows dim as the knot inside me tightens, ready to squeeze out all sensations except my anticipated spasming pleasure. My thighs burn with the upward thrusts. Breathless and struggling to maintain the pace to keep climbing, I feel myself starting to slow down.
Mark reaches out, holding my hips in his big strong hands, stopping my motion to give my worn out legs a rest, and pushes himself upward into me, pounding me through his own effort, hitting the right spot time after time, lifting me higher and higher until he gives one big hard thrust and I grip his member as my entire body rattles and flows with passion. A guttural cry springs forth from my lips loud enough to shatter glass and my entire being releases energy as I tremble on his cock, collapsing on that beautiful chest when I’m done.
He wraps his arms around me, holding me close to him as we breathe together, the quiet rhythmic afterglow of satisfied souls. I nearly fall asleep in the warmth and security of the moment.
Then, from nowhere, the thought comes back.
Did he hold Valerie like this? My eyes pop open and I sigh. I love him, but I can’t get over the fact I am just a second string on a lovely violin.
Rising, I reach for my clothes and he can tell something isn’t right.
“I need to go,” I say revealing more sadness than I wanted my voice to display.
“I wish you’d stay. We need to make a plan.”
“You need a plan, or whatever you need,” I surrender. “I need to go. I need time, Mark. I know you and Valerie are done, but I’m not sure how to feel about it. I just need more time.”
“We don’t have time, Julia.” He rises and dresses quickly, his buttonless shirt hanging open. “We can put off the relationship part for a while, but we have less than a week before filing and we’re going to have to pull together to get the evidence we need.”
“It’s too much. It’s just too much. I don’t have a life made of parts. I just have one big lump of love-life-Lynx and it’s all too much for me to carry.”
“It’s also too much for you to lose,” he reminds quietly. I want to scream that I know that already, but I just nod. The anger and passion of the day have worn me through. I’m exhausted.
He walks me to the elevator and we wait wordless. When the door opens I step inside, leaving him in the hallway alone.
“Don’t call, don’t text, don’t write. If the deadline passes, it passes. But for now, just give me space.”
The door closes before he can say anything. It’s better that way.
Chapter 19
Are you being irrational if you know you’re being irrational? I pull out of the parking lot. I know there is nothing between Mark and Valerie now, and yet I still can’t get the idea of them out of my head. How can I ever trust that he isn’t selling me out to her? I guess letting the transfer go through and giving up Lynx would reveal the truth. If he doesn’t want me after that, I’ll know it was all a lie. Am I willing to give up my life’s work just to find out?
I decide to stop by the hospital for my daily visit with Dad. It will take my mind off all this for a little while. He seems to be past waking so every day is another chance for me to hold his hand once more. How I wish he was still well. I know he could have guided me through this with his wisdom. Dad negotiated his way through situations with social skill as sharp and accurate as a surgeon’s blade. I’ve been hacking my way through this with a machete, and the scars are starting to show.
Walking down the hallway, getting adjusted to the antiseptic smell of the area, I notice the nurse practically jumping across the desk when she sees me. She walks quickly to try to catch me as I turn the corner. I beat her to the room and look in to discover Dad’s bed is raised, made and empty.
“Where’s my father?” I demand. She sees the blaze that’s been simmering behind my eyes all morning.
“I tried to catch you, I was waiting to call you until he got settled,” the nurse said, guiding me away from the empty room.
“Settled? Settled where? He’s not conscious, how hard could it possibly be to get him settled?” The nurse takes me to a waiting area and sits down with me.
“Your father has been moved to the hospice wing,” she says softly, watching my face and trying to gauge a response. “His oxygen saturation is dropping and they’ve put him on a morphine pump. It’s only a matter of hours now.”
“If he’s going to die in a few hours, why didn’t you just leave him where he was? Why did you have to jerk him around? Why is there always someone in our lives all the time jerking us around?” That last question made her frown a bit.
“No one is jerking anyone around. The hospice wing is more comfortable for him and for you. The monitors are kept in a separate room so you don’t have to deal with the beeping, and it’s a more comfortable environment for goodbyes. And, Miss Sharp, this is a time for goodbye.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I‒it’s just—”
“I understand,” she replies kindly. “He’s on the third floor in room three-twelve. I’ll walk you there if you want.”
“No, no I can get there. Thank you for all your help. I know you did the best that you could for him. This has been such a long process.” I stand to leave, giving a big sigh to push out all the tension and try to gather some kind of strength to walk down the hall.
“I find it’s easier for folks to let go of this world if the people they love will tell them it is okay,” she mentions helpfully. I nod. Poor Dad. Since the day of his diagnosis, I’ve been dragging him to specialists, forcing him to try experimental treatment, and keeping him alive by my own force of will. The voice of Mark, which seems to have taken up residence in my head, reminds me that sometimes strength isn’t holding on, but letting go.
I make my way to Dad’s new room and walk in tentatively. It is a much homier and calmer set up than the rest of the hospital. The room smells like baked apples, instead of Lysol, and there are no ticks and beeps emanating from everything. The lights are dim and the glow of the numbers on the morphine pump are the only thing that would tell you something other than a nap was going on. It gives me peace to see him so comfortable.
I pull up a chair beside Dad and take his hand. I look at the withered fingers that always seemed so firm and strong, now tapered, weak and textured like rice paper. I kiss his cheek and there is no response. His breathing is shallow, and his eyes don’t move.
“Dad,” I say loudly hoping either he or his soul can hear me through the medicated fog. “Dad, I love you and I miss you, already, so much. But I want you to know some things. I want you to know I’m okay. I’m strong and I’ve been through hell, but I am going to be fine.”
Tears fall down my cheeks as I chokingly open myself to him one last time.
“I’ve met someo
ne, Daddy. The man I told you about before. He’s taught me a lot of amazing things and I’m finally getting my feet on the ground. I know who I am, and I know what to do. I’m going to do some great things in this world, because I’m your daughter and I can handle whatever life gives me. So I want you to know that it’s okay. It’s okay to let go. It’s okay to rest in peace because all the work there was for you is done here. You’ll always be alive in me, and I will always love you. But it’s time, and it’s all right, for you to let me go.”
I put my head down on the bed, allowing the tears to flow over me. His steady breathing never changes but I feel something different in his touch. It’s colder, it’s lighter. Closing my eyes I listen to the air puff through his lips. I remember the many jokes he told and wise things he told me. I remember how terrible he was with tools and everything he ever tried to build turned out lopsided. Mom would laugh at him, but he thought it was good fun. One awkward adolescent day, I told him I felt lopsided too. He said I was perfect.
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