by Jaime Thorne
Of all of his work my favorite piece has to be “Woman With Dark Hair.” It is a deceptively simple piece, a portrait of a woman. She is looking into the distance and you can see something in her eyes.
I always told people that it was uncertainty, that she wasn't sure of something. Maybe a note of concern there mixed in with it, maybe a touch of regret.
But the truth is the uncertainty is mingled with desire. She wants but knows that she should not.
The woman is afraid and what she is afraid of more than anything else is herself.
I've spoken with R.A. about the painting and my thoughts on it and he's always shrugged. He told me that he actually dislikes the piece, that it was a necessary evil. He told me that he painted it to get it out of his mind, and once she was gone from him he didn't give her a second thought.
Unfortunate for me that image and nagging addiction to it seems to have stuck in my mind. I cannot forget it and I cannot forget her. Since the moment I saw that painting I've been searching for another one to replace it in my mind.
Spending three days in this gallery is just another step on that path. I chose this gallery because I know that R.A. exhibits in it from time to time and I trust his judgment. I came here to soak in the art in full, and for no other reason than that.
That is the truth that I tell to myself, and it is nearly enough to make me believe that I haven't thought of that night once in the past three days.
Avril cuts quite a figure in the room where she is standing. She is wearing a dress of vivid red that stands out against the stark white of the space, looking up at the paintings that R.A. had chosen to exhibit here. There is a shaft of light from a window far overhead and it sets off the edges of her, defining her.
I can only see her from the profile but I'd memorized the curves of her body by now. I didn't need anything more than a profile view to recognize her. It would take only a glance to pick her out of a crowd at this point.
And I found myself smiling as I stepped into the space, my eyes tracing down the line of her back and falling onto her long legs. I saw her dark dark hair and found myself lost in the lustrous shine of it. I stepped closer, my nose catching the scent of her perfume that I'd never been able to narrow down before and that still eluded me now.
And I stepped up to her quietly, taking my place beside her to look at the painting on the wall.
A tree, a tree with long branches and covered in leaves. A tree that was caught in the midst of a storm that raged behind and around it but that was still for just the moment. A frozen glance of it as if it was stuck in the eye of the storm.
My gaze didn't move from the painting and neither did hers. We stood there in silence, both of us knowing that we didn't come here for the art but knowing that what we did come here for was so very dangerous.
I had my life and she had hers. Our lives were separate and independent and could never in a million years interact without destroying everything that we had built.
By all rights, we should have turned. We should have parted without a word or a glance at each other. That or stayed frozen staring at the painting, knowing that the longer we kept from moving the longer we could stay locked in that between space without having to make a choice.
To choose the old or the new. To choose comfort or uncertainty.
We both struggled with our decision and struggled to find the words. We stood in silence because neither of us knew what we wanted or what we could say.
And we stayed like that for what felt like forever.
CHAPTER NINE
JEREMY
I am the master of my own little world. A king with a firm command over his kingdom.
On paper, Jacob and I share control over our company. He has his responsibilities and I have mine and though we overlap and consult each other no decision is made without the permission and consent of the other partner.
That is on paper, but if you pay attention you will quickly find that the reality is far more imbalanced. You do need to pay attention though, because the signs are not obvious.
There is soft power and then there is hard power. Hard power comes from commands and authority. It comes from dictating terms and expecting obedience. Punishment and fear are not necessarily a part of it, but there is an implication that you will listen and do as you are told because I am in charge and I had said that it is to be so.
This is the sort of power that you will find in the military. It's the sort of power that comes with command and commanding and it isn't unheard of in business, be it private or public business.
I've always found that sort of power to be a bit of a blunt instrument. It's a tool that most certainly has its place, but it lacks the finesse of other approaches.
More flies with honey is a trite phrase most certainly but that doesn't mean that it isn't accurate. I think it is an interesting way to approach getting your way, especially if you modify the intention slightly.
It is far easier to get people to agree to do what you want if you make them think it was their idea all along.
Call it manipulation or underhandedness if you want, but do not deny the efficacy of it. If you put the seed of an idea into someone's head that it was their idea all along then they will not only be willing to go along with it, they'll also fight far harder for it than they ever would for something they were ordered to do.
This is the approach that I like at the office because I find it to be extremely effective in getting my way. But I know this approach isn't popular necessarily, and if the person you're manipulating finds out about it... well things can go wrong quite quickly.
That is why I have strict rules against it outside of business. I never try to manipulate Avril like that, I'd never dream of doing it. I respect her too much to lie to her like that.
But I don't have nearly the same hesitation when it comes to someone like Jacob.
Jacob was a good man, but he was exactly the sort of blunt instrument that leaned on hard power to get his way. He would make commands to all of the people that worked for us and expect blind obedience.
Our business couldn't have two kings like that. They couldn't have both of us demand unflinching obedience because a time would come where we wouldn't agree on things and having those employees torn between the two of us would bring the whole company crashing down.
Besides which, the thing about hard power is that it only is truly effective when you are already in the position of power. You cannot use hard power on your equal, but that same restriction doesn't apply to soft power.
Jacob and I have disagreements, but when it comes to the things that matter we always wind up doing what I want. Because when it comes to the company I am firmly in charge of everyone and everything, even those people who are supposed to be my equal.
I don't show it though, and that's really what all of this talk about power and manipulation comes down to. I'm not flashy about being in charge, and unless you were looking closely you wouldn't notice it.
To put it simply: I don't strut. Well except on rare occasions.
Today I was strutting, walking into the building like I owned the whole of it because I did. Walking into here like I was a king because I felt like one and because I couldn't help it.
Three days since we'd had that night and my first day back in the office and I'd been living on a high since then. The vision that I had seen before me, the sight of Avril and Bruce and the way that their bodies came together. The way she had lost control at the end, losing herself to the pleasure that he was giving to her and seeing her confess her truth because she couldn't hold it back any longer.
It was enough that even the memory of it could make me throbbingly and achingly hard.
Did I have regrets? Yes absolutely.
I regretted that I didn't set up a camera to record it. I regret that I'd asked for only a single night. I regretted that I hadn't had the ability to do anything but stare as they came together, that the pleasure in me had frozen me so solid at seeing my fa
ntasy happening right before my eyes that it had only been in the moments after that I'd been able to experience a bit of actual physical pleasure for myself.
Lucky for me I had plenty of moments alone to relive what happened.
She needed space, that much was obvious to me. Avril was fiercely loyal to me and to our marriage and she needed time to come to terms with what happened and I knew her enough to know that the best way for her to reach that point was to reach it on her own.
So I gave her that space. That night I held her when she asked me to and I slept with a stillness that I knew she didn't have. I showed her that I loved her regardless of what she did, that I loved her all the more for what she had given to me.
And she would be fine with it in time.
Speaking about it wouldn't help, wouldn't help either one of us. So different was our approach to it and to the way that we saw it that speaking about it wouldn't help. It would ruin both of us.
Because I wouldn't be able to help but look back on it with desire and need and she couldn't help but look back on it with regret. With a regret that I knew would pass in time when she really realized that I didn't hold any of what had happened against her.
Quite the opposite in fact.
I nodded at the people I passed in the hall, quite unable to keep the smile off my face. I knew my grin would be the talk of the office for the day but I didn't care, let them wonder what the cause of my good mood was because they would never in a million years come close to realizing it.
Stepping into my office I knew I had a good ten minutes before my first meeting of the day with Jacob and so I intended to start off the day right by taking my place behind my desk and leaning back with my eyes closed to let the memories wash over me just like I did every time I thought back in the days that had passed since that night. I figured a few moments reflection throughout the day would give me enough of a taste to keep me from going too far at the office and locking my door to satisfy my needs all by myself.
But I didn't count on Jacob waiting for me in the office, staring out the window. I didn't count on the look on his face when he turned to see me, that haggard look in his eyes that was deep and worn and spoke of a sadness that I don't know I'd ever seen in him before.
“Jacob,” I said to him, “You look like hell. What is it?”
“Emily,” he managed to choke out before walking over to my chair and falling into it.
I saw him break in front of me, a shudder running over him as his gaze broke from mine and he looked out the window to keep me from seeing the tears that he hurriedly wiped away.
“Is she okay?” I asked him, expecting the worst but not realizing just what it would be.
“She left me,” he told me, his voice hollow with disbelief, “She was just gone this morning. She up and fucking left me, for him...”
“For who?” I pressed on, walking around the desk and stepping in front of him.
“Roger,” he said, “She left me for Roger.”
“The bull?” I said with disbelief, “The one you've watched her sleep with?”
Jacob nodded, jaw clenched as his nostrils flared and he tried to keep his emotions under control. I let him take all the time he needed, stepping out of his way as he stood and walked over to the bottle whiskey he'd brought into my office and set on my side table. He took a long pull and leaned up against the window before finally speaking again.
“Twenty years of marriage and she ends it with a note. Doesn't even have the courtesy to tell me face to face. Tells me that I couldn't be what she needed anymore. Tells me that he does things to her that I never could. Tells me that he makes her feel things-”
A sob choked out his words and he took another swig from the bottle.
“Twenty years of marriage and she ends it all because of some big-dicked muscular fuck.”
He shook his head side to side. His eyes watery and inconsistent.
“I made a mistake Jeremy,” he told me, “I should have known when I couldn't let it go that it was going too far. We both needed those nights but what you think you need isn't always what you actually need.”
He looked at me, his gaze steady in spite of the swaying of his body.
“We were addicted and it destroyed us and I never saw it coming.”
CHAPTER TEN
AVRIL
I'm not sure why exactly I went to the gallery. It wasn't an unlikely place for me to be, since it was one of my favorite places in the whole of the city, so it's not like it's unexpected for me to pass through the doors.
But I can't deny that I was drawn there.
I'm not a stupid person, and I can see the writing on the wall. I liked Bruce. I liked the way that he made me feel and I liked the person that he is. Were I an unmarried woman I might find myself falling for a man like him, even if a man like him was so different than the man that I married.
I am married though, married to a man that I love and cherish. A man that might have recent unusual appetites rearing up, but a man that I knew that I loved and could trust and one that I had every intention of spending the rest of my life with.
Divorce was not an option for me. I would miss Jeremy and what we had too much, and I couldn't chance all of that on a stranger who was new and exciting just because they were new and exciting.
In the three days since that night together those were the words that comforted me. While Jeremy withdrew from me and disappeared off on his own I kept myself company with the knowledge that we would weather this storm and see it through to the other side. That I would continue to be with the man that I loved regardless of what had happened or what was yet to happen.
I had to tell myself that, because I felt like Jeremy was starting to regret everything that had happened.
It was the only explanation that I could come up with. The only reason I could find to tell me why he wasn't there with me when I so obviously needed him to reassure me that we were alright. The only possible explanation for why was because he wasn't sure himself.
That night we had come together and he had held me. I had felt him trembling for a long while and he had fallen into a fitful sleep. For myself I don't know that my eyes had closed all night long, and I don't think that either of us was fully refreshed in the morning.
Honesty is important to me, though not in an obvious way. I know that others lie to me either outright or through omission and I've learned to make my peace with that. I even know that Jeremy does that from time to time, and I do always trust that when he does it is because he is doing what he feels is right for me at that time.
What I cannot accept is lying to myself.
I know so many people who are not honest with themselves. They weave tales and lies and they convince themselves so thoroughly that it helps them to sell the lie to others.
While I can understand the logic and purpose of that, I'd made a promise to myself a long time ago to never fall victim to that same problem.
My truth in this moment is that I enjoyed my time with Bruce. I enjoyed it so much, maybe even a bit too much. I enjoyed it and I know that I wanted more, but I also know that wanting and having are two very different things.
You can want rich and heavy foods. You can crave sweets or grease or any other sort of thing for you that is terrible and you can even indulge from time to time but you have to understand that craving should be a treat.
It should be occasional, not an everyday thing. If you swallow spoonfuls of sugar every day for every meal your teeth will rot out and your body will fall apart. You cannot survive on it. Too frequent consumption will lead to your doom.
Bruce represented that to me. He represented a craving and nothing more, and I couldn't give in to that without losing everything that I loved about my life.
He would be my destruction.
That self-honesty does include self-reflection after you make a mistake. If I put myself into a place where I have gotten into trouble it is my duty to reflect on my actions and see whether the responsibili
ty for that trouble lies with me.
Today I think it's clear that the mistake is mine and mine alone.
I didn't have to look to know that it was Bruce standing next to me. I didn't have to see him or look in his eyes to know that he'd come here for me because I knew him well enough to know that his motivations were so similar to mine.
Our talk leading up to the events in the hotel room had been instructive. It had told me an awful lot about what sort of man I was dealing with, but it hadn't told me a lot about who he was.
I didn't know where he came from, but I knew that he was forceful and confident. I didn't know what he liked to do in his spare time, but I knew that though he was arrogant he had plenty of cause to value his own self-worth. I didn't know what his last name was, but I knew that he would leave me gasping from the pleasure of his body.
In truth the only thing I really knew about this Bruce was a single thing, a single painting that he had referenced and that had stuck in my mind since that day. Maybe because he'd seen me in it, or maybe because it was the only thing I could grasp that could give me a connection to him.
I know myself and I'm honest with myself. I came to this gallery for him, in the vain hope that I'd see him here. I came here to be in this situation and now that I was here I was shocked into silent stillness because I didn't know what came next.
“It's a beautiful painting,” I said quietly, looking at the tree shaken by the storm and grasping on to the brief respite that paint and canvas can offer it from the pounding winds, “So simple yet so powerful at the same time.”
“It is,” Bruce said beside me, his familiar timbre comforting to me, “R.A. did very well with this piece.”
That wasn't what I wanted him to say. I wanted him to tell me that he'd missed me. I wanted him to tell me that he'd thought of me. I wanted him to tell me that he'd been here waiting for me and now that I was here we could pick up where we left off in that hotel room.