The Charade (13 page)

“But you love my pussy even more,” I said smirking. I grabbed his back and wrestled him over. I mounted him and glided my tongue up and down his neck. “Tell me you love my pussy.” I arched my back and pulled up on his shaft, pumping up and down his head, teasing the tip. He writhed beneath me. I loved being in control. “Tell me you love it or you can’t have it.” I rotated my hips and my fingers pinched his nipples. He wriggled below me uncontrollably.

“You wouldn’t do such a thing.” Amazement colored his face.

I squeezed my pussy around his head. He bellowed, probably waking up my entire apartment complex. “I love your pussy, Natasha. I fucking love it,” he said grinding out his words.

“I know you do.” I slid down his pole and I was so wet, hitting his base made a slopping sound. I planted my hands dead on his chest; my nails sunk into his slick skin. He grabbed my wrist and put my finger in his mouth, twirling it around his tongue.

The night sky sent a purplish haze to my room. We peered at each other, tangled in a maze of lust.

I gyrated back and forth on his torso; my headboard crashed against the wall. Victor grappled my waist and braced himself and I collared his wrists to feel his skin. Our moans blended louder. The headboard rammed against the wall harder as I rode him I as tough I could. “Oh God. Victor,” I screeched. He replied by groaning my name. My neighbor whopped his fist against the wall to get us to stop, but it just egged us on more.

I clutched his hands and brought them up to my breasts. He knew what to do with them. He pinched and compressed my nipples, swelling them fully. I put my hands on his chest and lifted my knees up; my feet planted on the bed. I arched my back forward, his cock filling me deeper. I always wanted to try to that position. His dick seemed to grow larger inside of me.

I splashed on top of his dick repeatedly. Victor hit the bottom of my pussy each time. His cock throbbed and he howled, “Natasha, I’m coming.” I wasn’t far behind. I crashed down on his shaft faster, harder. My legs seizured and a climax erupted. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t speak. My body folded on top of his. I nestled my face next his in the pillow.

“You were amazing,” he said. He blanketed his arms around me as I lay lifeless on his chest.

I slightly bobbed my head in agreement. I still couldn’t respond. The orgasm sent aftershocks through my body. Limbs fluttered. And a tear leaked out of the corner of my eye.

“Don’t let me go,” I said.

“I won’t.”

***

That Monday morning at the office, I kept replaying the night after we had over and over. It was sweet. I felt closer to him. I wanted him to stay the night, but he woke me up and said he couldn’t stay. He didn’t say why. He told me he would miss me and I replied the same. I woke up with a smile on my face.

I didn’t hear from him at all Sunday. I figured he was busy. But Monday, my fingers wouldn’t stop texting him. ‘How’s your day?’ ‘You were amazing the other night.’ ‘How about a quickie in your office before lunch?’ I even resorted to a new low and sent him a selfie of my boobs I took in the bathroom. I got no response. Zero. Zilch. Nada. I sent myself a generic message to make sure my cell network wasn’t having issues. It worked fine. All the bars on the satellite icon were full. I took out my battery and put it back in and powered it on – still no messages from Victor.

And to think, I spent my entire Sunday afternoon cutting out ideas from Cosmo and Harper’s Bazaar to wear a dress I absolutely
knew
would catch Victor’s eye. I dug into the deepest crevices of my closet and pulled an outfit together. No better feeling than taking nothing from something and creating a cute outfit. It was sexy, not slutty. Appealing, but not revealing. Stylish, but not too trendy. All that time – wasted. I still mustered up the gall to prance into the office with a smile. Maybe it would catch Tyson’s eye.

“You look like you finalized your divorce,” Linda said. She must’ve hit the bourbon heavy that morning.

“I’m not married,” I said. Another uncomfortable conversation.

“Well from the looks of your dress, you ended something. Or started it.”

“Good morning to you too.”

“Linda is a brilliant miserablist. Don’t mind her. As long as she’s had her bourb…I mean coffee, she’s harmless.” Shannon, a couple of cubicles ahead, winked at me.

“I’m beginning to realize that.”

“Goooood mooooorning everyone!” Tyson said whizzing by us towards his office. He didn’t bother to even see me or my dress.

Lunch approached and Tyson barely left his office the entire morning. Great! Both men ignored me.

“You’re gonna need a neck brace if you keep looking in his office,” Linda said.

“What are you talking about?” I replied.

“You’ve been looking in there all morning”

“That’s not true.”

“I can see you from the reflection in my monitor.”

Busted.

“Just go in there, shut the door and the blinds and blow him. Lord knows you wouldn’t be the first woman to try it around here.”

“She may be nuts but she isn’t lying,” Shannon said.

“Tyson doesn’t do the office romance thing. Too many girls have crashed and burned.”

“I don’t do the office thing either.”

“First job?”

“Yup. First
real
job.”

“Give it time,” Linda said. “Every woman says that and next thing you know you’re finger-banging Derek from Marketing at the Christmas Party in the broom closet.”

“That’s not my cup of tea.”

“I bet you don’t drink wine and beer in the same night. You’re a principled woman. That’s admirable. But give it time.” She snorted. “Besides,” said Linda. “She’d have a much easier time screwing Victor. He’s done half the office.”

I got up and left the peanut gallery. The last comment bothered me, even though I didn’t know if it were true, I wouldn’t surprise me one bit.

***

In all years of dating I never asked I guy out. From a young age, my mom told me never to do it. And that stuck with me. It seemed to work. But what did she know? If she married Reg, it would be her third marriage. And even that wasn’t going so well from what she last told me.

It was a shade after five o’clock and Tyson was still in his office. He usually made sure the department left before he did. He probably played solitaire or chess on his computer, counting the minutes down, as each of us made our way towards the elevators.

My heart palpitated. I couldn’t live with having two people work here rejecting me. If he said no, I made up my mind that I would quit. I tidied up my desk, giving it a total makeover, fidgeting and trying to make sure I had the right words together to ask him out. Linda finally got up and left and said goodbye to me. I slammed the pencil on the desk and got tired of procrastinating.

I stormed to his office and stood in front of his desk.

His head shot up at me. “Something’s on your mind isn’t it?” he asked.

“Tyson.” I said. “Friday night I’m going out for drinks. You should join me.” It wasn’t what I anticipating saying, but it came out. I bit my lip. My heart roared. Before he could say anything, I blurted out: “Or you can say no. I know it’s last minute and you probably have plans. Or you probably don’t want to go on a date with someone you work with. Not only someone you work with, but some who you supervise. It’s a conflict of interest. I’m your employee. You’re my boss. We work so close, right next to each other. What will the others think? Maybe they don’t have to know…” I was out of breath.

“Tasha. Stop. Breathe.” His voice was smooth and calm. “It’s going to be…okay.” I exhaled short breaths. “I’d love to go out with you.”

Easier than I thought.

***

The days before Friday zoomed by without a hitch. Tyson played it cool. I wanted to think he made sure we hadn’t cross paths as much as we normally did, so it wouldn’t be weird. Weird, so we could have our space and not flirt so the gossip mill wouldn’t be churning on end. It was business as usual between us and Friday arrived in a flash.

I had an extra bounce in my step that day. Unfortunately it tipped Linda off.

“First date after the divorce, huh?” she asked.

“Not married. Remember?” I wanted to put my face in my palm.

“Maybe. But you DO have a date tonight.”

“How do you seem to know everything about my personal life? I’m not saying yay or nay, by the way.” I actually took a likening to her off-kilter, drunken observations. They were refreshing. Odd and primarily vulgar, but refreshing nonetheless.

“I think it’s her five divorces that give her that sixth sense,” Shannon chimed in.

“Six if you count the time I lived in Glasgow.”

“You lived in Glasgow?”

“I did for a spell.”

“Hard to believe, our resident red head is a worldly figure,” Shannon said. Linda gave her the finger.

“I bet you haven’t had a date in a while, right?”

“Oh, poof. Looks like I’m all out of coffee,” I said tipping my cup over. “Time for a refill.” I rushed towards the break room to escape her interrogation.

Tyson and I swapped flirty texts back and forth throughout the rest of the day. I queried about what I should wear. He said something casual – a cute top, jeans and heels would do just fine. I had it covered. I asked him where we were going and he said it was a surprise. It made me smile for the rest of the day. But what didn’t make me smile was the company wide email sent by one of Victor’s administrative assistants saying he would be out of the office all next week.

He hadn’t crossed my mind the entire which was. Quitting him cold turkey was my intention. Trying to get over a man who owned the building I worked in was silly when I thought about it. He hadn’t texted me or called me or even showed up at my house. A tinge of sadness crept up on me. His unexpectedness and spontaneity intrigued me, but stability was what I demanded. I never experienced the type of feelings I had with Victor before. Closing that chapter of my life bummed me out. He was an addiction and it needed to be ended. I had a hot date and I couldn’t let the thought of a guy who didn’t want me fill my head up. I had a guy who I liked and liked me. There couldn’t have been a better opening to a story than that.

***

Being late for a date was bad luck in my eyes, so I headed out the door twenty minutes ahead of the time my GPS said it would take. My phone chimed. It was a text from Victor.

I threw the phone back in my purse and turned the volume off to vibrate. Another text chimed. Then another. Then to a constant buzzing. I strode towards the door. My breath hitched. I rested my hand on the doorknob. My mind churned at the thought of what he possibly wanted.

What if he was hurt? I eyeballed my phone - fourteen messages from him in a two minute time span. Before I could read them, he called. I gulped the lump in my throat and then answered. I said nothing, just waited for him to respond. My damp breaths fogged the screen to my phone.

“Natasha,” he said.

“What is it Victor?” I asked. “I’m on the way out.”

“I need to talk to you.”

“I don’t have time to talk.”

“You have plans?”

“You say it like you couldn’t possibly believe it to be true.” Silence. “It
is
Friday night you know. And my world doesn’t revolve around you.”

“Well my world revolves around yours.” His breaths were heavy, desperate. “I can’t do this professional, no speaking thing, acting like we don’t know have a history.”

“What we do have is history. I can’t deal with mind games. I just can’t deal. One moment you’re holding me at night, the next you act like I don’t exist.”

“Give me another chance.”

“Why should I?”

Again; silence. It was like he attempted to find the words to tell me what I wanted to hear, but didn’t believe any of it himself.

“That’s what I thought. Goodbye Victor.” I eyed my watch. Time flashed away.

“Natasha, wait! Look out your window.”

“Victor, I have to go.”

“Please?” I never heard him utter the word before.

He stood against his black Maserati coupe, in a black suit holding a bouquet of roses. My knees buckled. A small smile colored his face. The sunset reflected off his eyes. He looked as handsome as ever. I was glad he couldn’t see me. I melted right before the windowsill.

I cleared my throat. “Nice. But, I can’t be won over so easily. You just can’t come in and out of my life and expect me to leap into the palm of your hand.” But it was exactly what happened. I peeked at my watch and bit my lip.

Shit. Tyson.

“Can I come up?”

“For what?”

“Just to talk.” His voice weakened me – rich, authoritative.

“We don’t do much talking when we’re alone.” Images of him savagely stroking into my body flooded my head. I sprinted over to the mirror in the corner to fix my hair and apply another coat of red lipstick.

“I know we don’t. And I’d like to change that.”

Silence.

“Just for one minute. I know you have plans. I just want to be in your presence – see your face.”