Follow Me Darkly

by HELEN HARDT

Still he says nothing. He’s tapping into his phone.

  When he finally speaks, I wish he hadn’t.

  “I just called Christopher. He’ll drive you home.”

  His cold words release my invisible bindings.

  I let go of the headboard.

  Chapter Eleven

  “It was humiliating,” I tell Tessa the next day at lunch. “The best sex of my life, and then it was just…over. He told me his driver would take me home, and then he left the room, saying he had an important message he had to respond to. It was awful.”

  “At least you finally had an orgasm.” She takes a sip of iced tea. “Did I tell you? Or did I tell you?”

  I can’t help a smile. The first real smile since last night. “You were right. I don’t get it, though. I tried everything. Every vibrator out there. Every technique…and nothing. Until Braden Black.”

  “Girl, just looking at Braden Black might be enough to send me over the edge.”

  Tessa was multi-orgasmic, or so she said. After the two I experienced last night—the way my body quivered and quaked—I’m pretty sure multiple climaxes would lead to a quick—but very satisfying—death. I can’t fault her observation, though. Braden Black is the most gorgeous man on the planet, and he was right when he said I wouldn’t forget where he’d been. Not just my pussy, but my glutes and thighs are sore. Muscles I never knew I had hurt like hell today.

  “There’s something about him, though,” I say. “Something I can’t quite put my finger on.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “A darkness. Almost like an invisible cloud hovering over him. I know it doesn’t make any sense, but I can’t explain it any better. I can’t see it, but I know it’s there.” I purposefully don’t mention the other enigma about him—that I want to obey him without question. It’s not like me at all.

  “You’re probably imagining things. Maybe because his name is Black. And, you know, black is dark.” She giggles.

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Yeah, probably,” she agrees.

  “I’m sure I’ll never see him again, so I’ll never figure out what the darkness is.” I let out a short scoff to try to hide the sadness I feel. “Funny. I hardly know him, but I feel a loss.”

  “That’s because he made you come.” She smirks.

  “What if I can’t ever come again?”

  “You know how it feels now, so you can duplicate it. Try it at home with your toys. It’s bound to happen.”

  I laugh softly. “I’ll try.”

  “Atta girl. You’ll be over Braden Black in no time.”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. Something about him really got to me.”

  “Try to just remember it for what it was. A night of really good sex that gave you the first of many orgasms you’ll have in your long life. Really, you should thank him.”

  “Maybe send him some flowers?” I say facetiously.

  Tessa finishes her iced tea and signals the server for our check. “Maybe one of those erotic cakes.”

  I can’t help it. I let out a guffaw. Send Braden Black an erotic cake? That’s just damned funny, and not something I’d ever do.

  “Seriously. You can have them make a marzipan pussy and then write something like, ‘Thank you for coming.’ Great double entendre.” She laughs hysterically.

  Tessa is my best friend ever and I adore her, but sometimes she thinks she’s funnier than she actually is. Okay, this is pretty funny, but no way in hell would I ever send anyone a marzipan pussy.

  “Shouldn’t it actually be ‘thank me for coming’?” I say. “I’m the one who had her first orgasm.”

  “Yeah, but that sounds ridiculous.”

  “Like it all doesn’t sound ridiculous. You’re ridiculous.” I laugh and grab the check when it comes. “My turn. You paid last time.”

  “I have to run anyway. Meeting at two, and I’m hopelessly unprepared.” She stands and a huge grin splits her face. “Think about that cake.”

  I roll my eyes, grab a credit card from my wallet, and lay it over the check.

  Then finish my diet soda and play with the remains of lettuce left on my plate.

  And I think about last night.

  How Braden made me feel. How he made me want to give up control. If any other man demanded I hold on to a headboard, I’d laugh in his face.

  What is it about Braden?

  I sigh. Doesn’t matter. I’ll never see him again. Still, what exactly did he do to make me explode the way I did? Everything was amazing, but what specific thing? I need to know, because I sure as hell want to come again, whether it’s with him, another guy, or myself. I don’t care.

  Except I’d really like it to be with him.

  I have a few minutes before I need to be back at the office, so I walk around the city a bit and find myself in front of my favorite bakery—a bakery that also makes erotic cakes. I go in on a whim.

  “May I help you?” a young woman asks.

  “Yeah.” Please let my voice not crack. “I need a baguette, please.”

  Chicken.

  She bags one for me. “Anything else?”

  “No, thank you.”

  I pay for the baguette and walk to the door.

  And wonder what Braden is doing at this same moment.

  …

  Back at the office, Addison is making the final arrangements with Susanne Cosmetics. They finally upped their offer to two hundred grand, so this afternoon, we’re shooting the lip plumper post. Apparently that’s the amount necessary for Addie to pimp a product that’s supposed to get rid of lip lines. Turning twenty-nine has sent her into a tailspin.

  I’ve set up a mini studio in the office, where I can adjust the lighting as needed. We’ll shoot today’s post there.

  I’m getting the space ready when Addie storms in.

  “Change of plans. They want the shot at the Susanne counter at Macy’s.”

  “Crap. Really?”

  “Yeah. I tried to talk them out of it.”

  “Department stores are the worst.”

  “I know,” she says. “The lighting’s atrocious, but that’s what I have you for. You can work your magic.”

  I warm slightly. That’s what passes for a compliment from Addison Ames. I’ll take what I can get. She appreciates me—I know that. She just doesn’t show it very well most of the time.

  “Sure. You want to go now?”

  “Yeah. We’ll close up, and then you can take the rest of the day off.”

  I keep myself from laughing. It’s nearly three thirty. The shoot will take at least an hour, and then I’ll be monitoring it for the next hour for negative comments. So much for getting “the rest” of the day off.

  In her way, though, she thinks she’s doing me a favor. It’s the diva’s way.

  Macy’s is only a block away, so we walk, which means Addie will fuss with her hair for fifteen minutes or so before we begin.

  The Susanne Cosmetics counter isn’t busy. Only one or two customers are looking at products. That will change after today. Tons of women will want the new Burgundy Orchid shade of Susanne lip plumper. I hope they have enough in stock to accommodate the thousands who will want their lips to look like they just finished a grape Popsicle.

  “May I help you?” a salesperson asks us.

  “I’m Addison Ames,” Addie says. “We’re here to do a selfie with the new lip plumper.”

  “I’m not aware of that.”

  “Call corporate. They’ll confirm it. This is my assistant, Skye.”

  “Yes, nice to meet you. I’ll have to verify all of this with the store.”

  “With all due respect”—Addie glances at the employee’s name tag—“Blanche, we don’t need permission from the store to take a selfie. This is a public place.”

  “St
ill, I—”

  “She’s right,” I say. “We do this all the time.”

  Blanche sighs. “I don’t want to get in any trouble.”

  “You won’t. We brought our own plumper and everything.” Addie gazes in one of the mirrors. “God, my hair is ghastly. Where’s the restroom, Blanche?”

  “The south corner.”

  “Thanks. I’ll only be a minute, Skye.”

  I nod. Yeah. Make that fifteen minutes at least. I walk around the cosmetics counter to find the best area to shoot the photo. Then I pull out my phone to check comments on the pretzel post and maybe get through some email while I wait.

  I pull up Instagram. Hmm, I have a notification. I click.

  And my heart stampedes.

  I have a new request to follow me.

  @bradenblackinc

  Chapter Twelve

  My Instagram is private, which is why Braden has to make a request. I actually deleted quite a few requests earlier today from people I didn’t recognize. They probably wanted to follow me only because I was tagged in Braden’s oyster post the other night.

  To accept or not to accept?

  That is the question.

  He literally kicked me out of his bedroom last night.

  Okay, not literally. But I’m not that far off.

  He said he got an important message on his phone he had to deal with—apparently billionaires have to deal with important stuff late at night—and went into his office, while I dressed as quickly as I could. I left the room to find Christopher already in the living area petting Sasha.

  “Ready to go, Ms. Manning?”

  I nodded and knelt down to give Sasha a scratch behind her ears. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  What transpired next was a repeat of the previous night. I followed Christopher into the elevator, and he pressed the button. The car was waiting in the garage level. Christopher opened the door for me, and I got in.

  He drove me home.

  All of this took place in a span of about a half hour.

  It seemed like a year.

  When I finally got home, I went to bed in my clothes without washing my face, something I never do, only to wake up this morning with racoon mascara eyes, a huge reminder of the previous evening.

  And now Braden wants to follow me on Instagram.

  Why? I rarely post. Instagram is my job, and I don’t take my work home. I don’t have much of a private life. This afternoon, Tessa posted us at lunch. That’s her thing. Apparently she thinks her followers want to know everything she eats. Maybe they do. I have no idea. Taking a photo of a BLT with avocado isn’t exactly art.

  Of course, neither is a photo of Addie wearing lip plumper.

  Addie returns, hair coiffed and purple lips freshly plumped, delaying my decision whether to accept Braden’s request. Good. It’s too much to ponder at the moment.

  “Ugh,” Addie whispers to me. “Is it just me, or is this shade horrendous?”

  “Not just you,” I whisper back. Then, in a normal voice, “I’ve scouted out the lighting in here. I think the selfie will look best at the other end of the counter. Plus, there’s less in the background to detract from your image.”

  “Sounds good.”

  We set up the photo with Addie puckering her lips and holding the tube of plumper in one hand, her other arm outstretched in the “selfie” pose. I take several, choose the best, and do some quick edits. I hand the phone to her.

  “Skye, there has to be a filter to make this shade look a little less…purple Kool-Aid.”

  “I figured we shouldn’t use it. Fair advertising and all.”

  She hands the phone back to me. “Sorry. Use a filter. I can’t be seen like this.”

  “But—”

  “The filter, Skye. I’ll deal with the fallout from Susanne, if there is any. My bet is there won’t be. They’ll be super psyched about the mega increase in sales.”

  “You’re the boss.” I make the necessary adjustments and hand the phone back to Addie.

  “Looks great. Post it.”

  “What about copy?”

  “Susanne didn’t send any?”

  I shake my head. “Nope.”

  She sighs. “God. You write something. I just can’t find the words to say how much I love this awful shade.” She pulls a tissue from the box sitting on the counter and wipes furiously at her lips.

  “I’ll come up with something.” It won’t be the first time I’ve had to get creative.

  Absolutely in love with @susannecosmetics new Burgundy Orchid lip plumper! Grab yours before they sell out! #sponsored #bigkisses #kissme #lipgloss #lips #kiss

  Not my best, but it’ll do the job. I post the photo.

  So luscious! Ordering mine now, @realaddisonames.

  Gorgeous!

  What a great color on you!

  Their lip plumper is the best. Love this new shade!

  I hold back an eye roll as I scan for anything negative. I delete a few questionable comments.

  Then I look back at Braden’s request to follow me.

  What the heck? He won’t find much on my Instagram.

  I quickly hit Confirm.

  Maybe he’ll see I’m living my best life without him. Although my last two pics were of the interesting way a shadow played across a city sidewalk and a lonely fire hydrant in the heat.

  I need to up my Insta game.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Two vibrators, a dildo, and a set of Ben Wa balls sit on my bed—all products of my earlier attempts to achieve the elusive orgasm.

  I dug them out of my drawer when I got home from work. Am I going to take Tessa’s advice and try to re-create what Braden did to me?

  Apparently I am.

  I laugh aloud. I didn’t achieve anything previously when I used these toys. What makes me think I can now?

  Because now you know what you’re after.

  Maybe. Now that I’ve experienced a real climax and am familiar with the magnificence of it, I may be able to do it again.

  I reached both orgasms while Braden was penetrating me, but that alone hadn’t gotten me off. It was the clitoral stimulation paired with Braden’s delicious cock. I eye the blue dildo. Yeah, it’s pretty big, but not quite as big as Braden.

  Next to the dildo sits a pink vibrator with a built-in clitoral stimulator. Problem is the dildo part of the vibrator isn’t even close to Braden’s size.

  The other vibrator, in clear, is just a dildo with batteries, no clit stimulator.

  Then the Ben Wa balls. They look like large silver marbles, and honestly, I’m not sure what they’re supposed to do. I know they go in the vagina, but that’s about it. I could call Tessa and ask…but no. Just no.

  I toss the balls and the clear vibrator back in the drawer. My best chances are the plain dildo and the hot-pink vibrator with clit action.

  I’ve done this before, and I always felt really weird. At least now I know what I’m supposed to be feeling.

  I undress quickly and slide beneath my covers with the dildo and vibrator. I decide to go with the vibrator first, since it has the clitoral stimulator.

  Problem number one—I’m not even slightly wet.

  No hot kisses and finger fucking to get me in the mood. Even a little sexual banter over dinner would help. I was wet just sitting next to Braden in his car.

  I need something to turn me on. Pay-per-view porn? It’s worth a shot. I grab the remote from the nightstand and flip on the television, quickly finding a porn network. $15.99? To watch people fuck? I’m desperate, so I click Rent Now.

  Problem number two—porn has never done much for me.

  Still, I watch the fake boobs and monster dicks and try like hell to feel enough to get myself ready so the vibrator won’t hurt going in.

  Finally, I’m able to e
ase the vibrator into my pussy. I flip the switch at the end and…

  Nothing.

  Not that I expect it to be instantaneous, but at the moment I just feel tight and full.

  I gaze at the TV, flicking my other hand over one breast and giving the nipple a pinch. I feel a little, but not enough to get going.

  Maybe the porn isn’t a good idea. Maybe I need to close my eyes and remember my time with Braden.

  Except that will make me sad.

  I try anyway. I turn off the TV and the light, close my eyes, and cup my breasts, letting my fingers wander and tease my nipples. They harden under my touch. Nice. Finally, my pussy starts to respond. Just a tiny tickle, not the gushing madness that Braden caused, but I’ll take what I can get.

  Slowly I move the vibrating dildo in and out of my pussy. When that doesn’t get me going, I hold it inside me, letting the little flagella on the clit stimulator do their job. All the while, I’m thinking of Braden’s firm lips on mine, his long, thick fingers inside me.

  I imagine him flipping me over and thrusting into me.

  I turn onto my hands and knees and work my pussy and clit with the vibrator.

  My skin warms, a nice flush. A beginning.

  But that’s all it is. A beginning.

  Not even close to the middle, and what I’m really searching for is the end result.

  The peak.

  The pinnacle.

  The roller coaster finally reaching its highest point and then plunging me down in a heady euphoria.

  Shit.

  I get up and clean the vibrator. Then I shove it and the dildo back in my drawer.

  This was a gigantic waste of time.

  I’ll never climax again.

  And the fact that I’ve now experienced it—with Braden Black, no less—makes the loss all the more profound.

  …

  The next few days of work fly by with few issues. Susanne Cosmetics calls on Friday to tell us how happy they are with the post and its result. Addie was right this time. They didn’t care about the filter to make their purple plumper look a little more human. They’re only interested in results. In fact, they have a new offer for their skin-tightening serum. Addie won’t be happy about that.