by Lucy Lambert
“You really are a wreck, aren’t you?” Ash said, softening the comment with a smile.
“I just don’t think I can take another big rejection. Not yet.” We both looked at my silent, slumbering phone.
“He’ll call. I’m sure he has a good excuse, I mean he is a gazillionaire with a huge company to run, so he has a good excuse,” she said.
“I guess.”
She reached across the table and took my hand. “But Charlie, this is 2016, not 1916. You can call him too, you know.”
“Maybe,” I said.
But he didn’t call. Not on Friday. And not on Saturday or Sunday, either.
Then came Monday. The first Monday in two weeks where I didn’t have him in the class with me.
The first Monday I didn’t find myself wondering what he might have to say about Great Expectations or Shakespeare.
I frowned on cell use in class, so I glanced carefully at my phone in the knee hole of my desk as students came in. Nothing but a few Facebook notifications and spam mail from the king of Nigeria offering me millions of dollars in exchange for my help on whatever.
“Hey, Miss Morgan,” Tyler said, “So that’s it or what?”
“That’s it with what, Tyler?” I said, trying not to feel guilty as I stuffed my phone away.
“Mr. Big Shot is done here, right?”
“The program’s over for this year, yes,” I replied. I hadn’t yet read any of the newspaper or online articles, but I got the general feeling that people were pleased about the CEO-in-Residence program and would likely repeat it next year.
Probably at a different school in the district and with a different CEO, of course. Even though, for a brief moment there, I experienced this irrational rush of excitement at the thought that maybe Alex might join me again.
“Yeah, Ty, it’s over. I’m going to get class started, why don’t you take your seat?” I said with a smile.
“It’s too bad,” he said, “I was kinda starting to like him, you know? He wasn’t what I expected.”
“Definitely not what I expected,” I said.
I stood up, pulling the wrinkles out of my blouse, ready to start class. What Ash said popped into my head again, that maybe I could go to him first rather than waiting for him to come to me.
Part of me thought that maybe this was him just letting me down easy, that maybe this would be better and easier for me if I just did nothing. Ash was right: if I didn’t put myself out there I wouldn’t get hurt again.
But what if she’s right about the other thing? About how it’s worth the risk of being hurt for the chance at something good?
And that was how I found myself arguing with Alex’s pretty secretary that day after school got out.
Yes, I’d braved the downtown traffic, paid the ridiculous parking fees and everything.
I’d been worried that I might run into his assistant, that Alisha woman, but so far hadn’t seen her. Small blessings and all that, I guess.
It was a nice waiting room. Really spacious. A few men and women in business attire sat on the various leather sofas and chairs, flipping through glossy magazines or thumbing through the Internet on their phones.
A few looked with casual interest in my direction, but I ignored them.
“Is he here or isn’t he?” I said. I felt bad about the tone in my voice. This woman didn’t deserve my anger; she was just doing her job. She was just the only target around.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you that,” she replied.
“What, is he the president or something? Do I need Top Secret clearance? Can you at least tell me when I can get in to see him?”
She smiled at me. It didn’t touch her eyes. “I’m sorry, I can’t tell you that, either. If you’d like to schedule an appointment to see him, there are some available early next month…”
“Next month?” I said, my tone changed from insistent to pleading. I leaned against the desk. “Look, I just need a few minutes with him. That’s all. Isn’t there some way…?”
Her smile became a little more forced, a little more plastic. But before she could say reply to me she looked over my shoulder. “Mr. Crossley,” she said, standing up, “A few messages came in during your meeting. Your 4:15, 4:30, and 4:45 meetings are all here.”
“Thanks, Carol. I’ll take them all in my office, just give me a few minutes to… Charlie?” He said, noticing me.
I had resolved to at least appear irritated with him, but when he looked at me and I looked at him my heart stuttered in my chest and I smiled.
Angry! You’re angry, remember? I tried reminding myself. That argument lost out to thoughts like, How can he be so handsome? And Is he going to kiss me again?
He wore a navy three-piece so dark it was almost black, perfectly tailored of course. If anyone wanted an example of tall, dark, and handsome his picture would be the only thing they needed.
“I was just telling her that she needed to make an appointment if she wanted to see you, sir,” Carol the secretary said.
“Clear my meetings for the rest of the day, would you?” He said. That earned a few grumbles from the people sitting in the waiting room, but he didn’t notice.
“Yes, sir,” Carol said, a bit stiffly. I didn’t gloat in my victory. I was too busy forgetting about my plan to ask him what the hell his problem was.
He took me into his office. He started to say something, but I went up on my tiptoes, wrapped my arms around his neck, and kissed him. The clean smell of his aftershave hit me. His lips met mine eagerly. His hands wrapped around me and I felt my toes leave the ground.
Why was it so sexy when a man picked a woman up? I don’t know, but it was.
He set me down sometime later, my heart thudding so hard I could hear almost nothing else.
“Wow…” He said.
“That’s because I missed you,” I said. Then I socked him in the arm. I think it hurt my knuckles more than it hurt him, but I still found it satisfying. “And that’s for ignoring me.”
He frowned. “Ignoring? Charlie, I haven’t been ignoring you.”
“Look, if you didn’t want to keep seeing me you could have just told me on Friday instead of stringing me along. I’m a big girl. I can take rejection.” Can I, though? I thought. I mean, I’m standing in his office demanding an explanation. Isn’t that the opposite of being able to handle rejection?
I ignored that thought and hoped that Alex wouldn’t make a similar point.
Actually, he didn’t say anything. Not right away. I grew uncomfortable in his gaze. I grabbed my arm and squeezed my bicep, self-conscious. “I mean, I told you already that I can’t take being hurt again. I told you.”
He put a finger beneath my chin and lifted my face so that I looked into his eyes rather than at the silk knot of his tie. “And I told you I would never hurt you. That you can trust me. You still can.”
I pushed his hand away. “Then what happened? First you wanted to take me out Friday. Then you said you had to take care of something but that it wouldn’t take long. You didn’t call or text or email or anything. What was I supposed to think?”
“You deserve an explanation. I was out of the country,” he said, “CrossFire just took over a competitor in Germany and it required a lot of hands on, personal attention from yours truly. More than I wanted, actually. There’s a lot more involved in that sort of thing than the movies would have you believe. Whenever I got a spare moment I wanted to talk to you, but it just seemed so rushed, and that was the last thing I wanted. Because I thought you deserved more from me than a quick international phone call or a few hasty words tapped out in a text.”
I digested this for a few moments. “So you’re saying that because I couldn’t have you all to myself it was better to get nothing?”
“You could boil it down to that, I guess. And I’m not going to apologize for knowing you deserve better. But you’re right, I didn’t call or text. It was a mistake. What do I have to do to earn your forgiveness?”
> He pulled me close again. Enclosed in his strong arms, feeling the warmth of his body against mine, all of that eroded my anger.
A different sort of heat began filling me. It was low and smoldering and threatening to burst into a bonfire at any moment. Especially with his lips so close to mine.
Still, I knew I couldn’t just leave things there. Couldn’t just let him off the hook like that.
“I don’t know… What are you willing to do?” I said, barely breathing the words.
Without warning, he pushed me back against the wall. An expensive looking painting in a heavy frame rattled next to me.
He advanced on me again, eyes blazing. His lips were merciless, drawing lines of fire down my throat, along my shoulders. One hand snuck down my thigh and stopped at the crook of my knee and lifted.
He pulled my blouse up out of my pants, his hand questing for the bare skin of my stomach. His touch electrified me.
“This isn’t what I meant…” I said, my whole body tingling in anticipation of his every hungry touch.
“This is exactly what you meant,” he replied before covering my mouth with his. We shared a breath.
Somewhere deep inside I knew he was right. I knew that this would happen when I came here, somehow.
I realized this was the first time we’d become intimate anywhere but my bedroom. I also realized that his secretary sat on the other side of that door, as well as anyone still loitering about the waiting room.
“Alex,” I said, a shiver of delight running up and down my back when he threaded his fingers up into my hair and squeezed those fingers into fists, “There are people… Your secretary…”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t want to be interrupted.” He reached over and flicked the lock on the door.
“You’re incorrigible,” I said. My own actions belied my words. I pulled his shirt up out of his slacks so that I could press my palms up against the firm, warm wall made by his abdominals.
My body burned with the desire, the need, for him. His every touch along my bared skin sent electric, ecstatic shocks deep into my core.
He was rougher, rawer than before. There was something primal about him that awoke something primal in me.
I gasped when he turned me around and pushed me against the wall again. His hands snaked around my waist, found the belt holding my pants up. He pulled it out, then started sliding my pants down my thighs.
I pushed my hips back against him while he showered my shoulders and neck with hot kisses.
Then we both gasped when he entered me, when he found me soft and warm and yielding yet firm all around him.
We fell into our rhythm quickly. I reached back over my shoulder and pulled his face to mine, wanting and needing as much contact with him as I could get. He reciprocated.
Maybe it was that we both needed each other so badly, missed each other so much from our weekend-long absence, but it made our passion brief and intense.
He kissed me again when our shared climax claimed both our bodies in its intense and unforgiving grip.
“Charlie…” He breathed, the heat of his breath tickling along my jaw.
We parted, the two of us equally disheveled. He leaned against the back of one of the leather executive chairs facing his desk. Somewhere in there I’d pulled his tie loose and unbuttoned his collar, which gave me a flattering view of the deep, satisfied flush to his skin.
He gave me a similar appreciative look. It was a look that made me throb all over, inside and out.
“Have I earned your forgiveness?” He asked.
“And if I say you haven’t?”
He gave me a half-cocked grin. “Then I’ll hope for a better score in round two.”
My eyes widened. “There’s no way…” I started. I hadn’t even begun to get the usual soreness yet.
This time he grabbed me up and in arm and cleared his desk of all the papers and folders (as well as a laptop and a couple of tablets) with the other.
I’d never gotten why people found that so sexy in movies. I thought it was silly. I mean, someone had to clean it all up after, right?
But now I knew. It was that willingness to literally throw everything else aside but you.
Somehow he made it even more intense then the first go around.
“Are you a machine or something?” I asked after, the two of us relaxing on an overstuffed leather couch set up in the corner.
I rested my head against one shoulder, my ear pressed to him. His heart beat fast, steady, and strong.
“No. You just make me insatiable is all.”
My own heart took up a pounding rhythm, made equally from excitement and apprehension, at even the hint of a third round. I didn’t think I could withstand it.
Not that I wouldn’t be game to try, the sly part of me thought. That thought came as the soreness I’d been spared before settled in. It was a deep, slow burn. A feeling I’d come to associate with satisfaction over the last couple weeks. I’d missed it.
“So,” he said, running one hand through my long, loose hair, “About that forgiveness.”
“I forgive you. Just don’t do it again,” I said.
“I don’t know… Some things are worth the punishment. I think you’d agree with me.”
“I don’t think I have the strength to punish you again, mister,” I said.
We reclined there together for a while. Long enough for the sunset to draw a dark line of shadow along the wall opposite the window.
Finally, I said, “Now what?” I didn’t just mean right at that moment. I meant tonight, the next day. The next month. He got that.
He took a moment for quiet contemplation. “Well, now that the program has ended, we don’t need to keep this held so close to our chests, do we?”
Prickles of trepidation ran through me. Even remembering what Ash told me I couldn’t quite stop them. When you get so utterly decimated emotionally it can take more than a pep talk or two to get over it, okay?
It was a silly, irrational fear. But one I felt nonetheless.
“I suppose,” I said.
He shifted against me so that he could look me in the eye. “Tell me what’s bothering you.”
I took a deep breath. May as well, I thought. I didn’t want anything between us, no secrets or lies or hidden feelings. “We don’t need to hide it, I guess. But I don’t want it blown out everywhere for everyone to see. I’m not that kind of woman. And I just don’t want anything to happen that can come back against the school. Like if people find out that we didn’t wait until the program ended.”
“Okay,” he nodded. Then he smiled. “You know, you’re so totally different from everyone else I’ve been with.”
“Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?” I said, drawing away from him and leaning against the arm of the couch.
“It was meant as one,” he replied.
“So… Again I ask: what now?” I said.
What now?
The answer to that question turned out to be a month of great dates. And I’m not too shy to admit it, even greater sex.
As the season became colder, we became hotter.
There was still so much about him I wanted to unlock. Like how he sometimes checked a message on his phone and became quiet. But I usually tried putting those things out of my mind.
It felt nice to trust someone again.
Chapter 27
ALEXANDER
“I’m taking you out again tonight,” I said, phone pressed to my ear. I had my feet up on my desk while I looked out over the Chicago skyline. I wished it was Charlie I was looking at.
Charlie wearing nothing at all, preferably. I grinned at the image in my mind’s eye. That now familiar pull of desire stirred inside of me.
“You know I’m at school, right?” Charlie said.
“I do. I also know it’s your spare period.”
“Well, if you know so much, you should also know I’ve got midterms to hand out and then to mark. Essay assignments to go over. Facul
ty and PTA meetings to deal with…”
“You can forget it all for one night,” I broke in, “All work and no play and all that.”
I could pretty much hear her smile through the line.
I had wanted to tell her I intended to take her out. I also just wanted to hear her voice. There was something about just talking to her that energized me. Something that could turn any bad day around for me.
When she spoke, I could never help smiling.
“And what about you, Mister All-Play-No-Work. How is that going for you?”
I grabbed my chest, “Oh, you wound me. You know, this week’s actually been pretty busy for me, which is why I’m taking you out tonight.”
“More from that mystery caller?” She asked.
My heart skipped a beat. “I almost have that taken care of. You know I can’t go into the details. Corporate secrets.”
“Yeah, I just wish there was something I could do to help. I see the way your mood changes.”
“Forget about it,” I said. I took my feet off the desk and leaned against it. “Wear something fancy. I’ll be at your door for 5:30.”
“Okay,” she said. “But nothing overnight this time. I’m serious. I really do have to get a bunch of stuff done.”
“No promises,” I replied.
The call ended and I leaned back in my chair, looking out over the skyline. It wasn't quite winter yet. Late fall, I guess. No snow yet, but most of the warmth was gone from the air.
Cold and beautiful, I thought.
Not unlike Alisha. Who still managed to call me and text me and email me no matter what I did.
I didn’t like not telling Charlie about her. But she was my problem, not Charlie’s. A problem I didn’t yet have a solution for.
I just wanted to handle the problem quietly, without involving Charlie. She didn’t need this on top of everything else.