The Charade (14 page)

“Just for one minute. One.”

Victor’s feet clattered against the metal steps one by one. I took a peep at my watch again.

Dammit.

The clock ticked. I still had time. I just needed to be strong.

I let Victor in and he kissed me on the cheek. “This is for you,” he said, handing me the bouquet. I went into the kitchen and looked for a vase to put them in.

“So…talk,” I said filling the vase up with tap water, hoping my attitude would rush him to speak.

He exhaled mightily. “I’m no good at this shit.”

“You’re getting off on the right foot aren’t you?” He sat down on the couch as I placed the bouquet on the bookshelf.

“You know what it is I mean. I’ve missed you.” I sat on the couch as far away as possible. My butt stuck in the crevice between the arm of the couch and the cushion.

“It didn’t seem like that after Miami. All those texts I sent you…you never responded.”

“I was busy.” The clock on the wall ticked louder and louder as every second lapsed. “And I’m not a text-type of person.”

Tick. Tick.

“You seemed to be one tonight.” He placed his hand on my thigh. I pulled away. His touch was palatable. I don’t know how I managed to elude him. “I can’t keep doing this with you.”

Tick. Tick.

“If you can admit one thing - this ends tonight. I promised before to leave you alone, but you
do
something to me and I can’t let go. Just tell me right now, if I disappeared from your life, would you miss the sex?”

I looked in his eyes. “Sex isn’t an emotion.”

“It
is
an emotion.” His voice breathy and fraught. “Will you miss your sweaty skin writhing against mine?” I bit down on my cheek. “Can you tell me you won’t miss me biting your lip, grinding deeper into you.” My dry lips parted. He took off his suit jacket. His voice intensified. “I know your thighs quiver in the middle of the night when I’m not next to you…your pussy dripping down to your ankles, wishing, pleading for me to lick it up…begging for me to make you scream.”

Tick. Tick.

“I can’t.”

He shook loose his necktie. His face turned uncompromising, almost savage. He breathed incessantly, almost wheezing. It startled me – and it made my slit heat enormously. “My appetite for you is uncontrollable, Natasha.” He inched closer to me. I had no more room on the couch to move away from him. His bottom lip twitched. His hand progressed up my thigh ripping electricity through my veins. “Natasha, satisfy me.” His voice curtailed. “Satisfy me.” His body glued next to mine. A rush of warmth stuffed my tight cavern, but eyes never pulled away from the wall clock. Humid, damp breaths filled my ear. Victor’s lips caromed my earlobe. “Please…satisfy me,” he said, nibbling away. His hands slithered to my chest and began to knead my breasts.

“Victor.” I said letting out a soft moan. My phone buzzed in my purse. It was too late to attempt to answer. Victor’s spell left me entrapped. His lips sucked up and down the length of my neck. He corralled my jacket and flung it across the room, knocking a book and two candles onto the carpet.

My phone buzzed again. The clock read fifteen after eight. Tyson probably waited for me like a gentleman. The feeling of guilt subsided when Victor’s hands dug inside my pants and rubbed my wetness down below.

“Your phone is ringing. Are you going to answer it?” Victor said in a teasing tenor. Like no one else existed in my world except for him. Asshole. I pretended I didn’t hear him and latched onto his erectness. “Mmm.”

“You like that don’t you?”

“I do, but don’t dodge the question. I bet you have a date.”

Tick. Tock.

My phone continued to buzz. Tyson probably left the bar already. I blew it.  But Victor’s tongue made me forget.

“It’s rude of you to not answer. Tell the little boy…you’ll call him back.” I stuck my tongue down his throat. I had no time for games. No time for a question and answer session. It felt so wrong. And stupid. And dangerous. I remembered how jealous he became when he saw Marc and me having a drink. It sent him through the roof. If Victor found out I had a date with Tyson, he’d kill me. He’d terminate me and Victor with no remorse or hesitation. A thrill ran up my spine at the thought of his forceful possessiveness.

I focused on the matter at hand. I cupped his crotch through his slacks. I needed it now. His torso jerked forward and settled his rod on my palm. I unzipped his pants and he ripped off my shirt. His cock was oozing with pre-come. “Let’s go to the bedroom,” he said. He grabbed me, trying to lift me up to take me to my room, but I resisted, clenching his head, practically guiding him to enter my garden.

“No, I want you right here, right now,” I replied. I massaged his cock with one hand and yanked off my pants with the other. His dick was iron-clad, ready to do its business. I wanted to suck it, but the yearning to have it fill my pussy won out. He suspended over me, his shirt still on and his pants to his ankles. He craved me so much; he didn’t bother getting fully naked. I didn’t care; I wanted him just as bad – maybe even more than he.

He slid on a condom and gripped his hand firmly on my ass. From the merciless look in his eyes, I knew it would be rough, hard and fast – the way I loved it. His cock plummeted into my snatch, stroking right through to the bottom I was so wet. I surged backwards – his dick was deeper than it ever had been before. He wrapped his arms around my back and began to discipline my pussy. “Yes, yes!” I screamed. Victor pumped into me so hard I was sure his cock would break through the latex. He maneuvered a hand up and clutched my breast, tweaking my nipple, making it swell. He suckled my nipple and pleasure soared through me, so good that I grabbed a hold of the sofa, nearly ripping the cushion at the seams.

I squeezed my entire body around him, holding on for dear life. Victor hammered away animal-like; his body sweating and contorting on my pussy. His climax wasn’t too far off, as he breathed so mightily that veins protruded in his neck and his face flushed red. His pole quivered inside of me, finally delivering his nectar into the latex.

He gave me the obligatory, ‘you were amazing’ response and the clang of his belt buckle signaled the end. My face frowned every time I heard that noise. It never failed to echo against my eardrums.

“I have to go,” he said. I nodded. If my apartment had a hole, I would’ve climbed into it. “You’re not going to ask why?”

“No,” I said. He raised a brow.

“Really.” His response sounded more like a statement than a question.

“Yes, really.”

“I’m trying my best.”

“I don’t need the excuses. I’m a big girl; I’ve gotten used to this.” I grabbed my shirt and draped it over my chest. I wanted to hide. Hide from my nakedness and hide from the fact I gave into his whims – again.

“What do you want from me?”

“Not this.”

“Out of your mouth you say you don’t just want sex.” He put his palms on top of his head. A look of bewilderment stormed his face. “The next thing I know, we’re tearing each other apart. Which is it?”

“Does it matter at this point? You’re better off just putting a hundred dollar bill on my dresser.”

“Natasha, believe it or not, you’re special to me.”

“Vic, you’ve said that to me - countless times. It’s gotten old. At least come up with something new.”

“I’ll prove it.”

“Really? How?” His proposal did nothing to move me.

“I’ll take you out on a date. Me and you. Out on the town.” Great - a pity date. Guilt got the best of him. But he sucked me right in. I couldn’t fix my lips to say no.

“I have a quick meeting with my attorney.” He swung his suit jacket back on. “He’ll be in Turkey for three weeks. It’s imperative I see him tonight. But I’ll be back here to pick you up. I know a great place. The sautéed shrimp is amazing.” He kissed his two fingers on his mouth and winked at me before he exited my apartment. At least he could’ve kissed me on the cheek.

After an hour, I settled into my favorite nook in the couch. I knew he wasn’t coming. I felt like the child whose father said he’d be back Christmas morning with presents only to be seen again the day after New Year’s Day - empty-handed.

It was no one else’s doing but my own. I couldn’t be mad at Victor; he showed me his true colors from day one. I was used to Victor ignoring me, but I couldn’t live with Tyson ignoring me; which was surely going to be a reality. The scenario for my upcoming workweek: one building, two men, both behaving like I didn’t exist.

I looked at my phone and winced. Five texts and two missed calls from Tyson. Maybe I could still salvage the night from Tyson.

I called him and his phone went straight to voicemail. I lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling fan, trying to make sense of it all. It made none. I chucked my phone into the arm of the sofa. It ricocheted off and hit the coffee table, breaking apart on impact.

***

“So, it finally has come to an end,” Barbara said as I sat on her couch. She corked a chilled bottle of sauvignon blanc on the kitchen counter. “Here, we must drink.” We clanged the glasses together in cheers. “A woman without wine is not a sane woman.”

“I’ve made too many mistakes,” I said swirling the light golden beverage in the glass – just like she did. I swirled too hard and the wine spilled on the cushion. “Oops. I’m sorry.” Another mistake.

“It’s okay honey,” she said. She got up to grab a towel. “Women make mistakes all the time. Society is very forgiving on a woman. Always remember that.” She blotted up my mess and took another sip. “It’s good isn’t it?” I nodded. “It was a gift. You wouldn’t believe who gave it to me.” She tapped my thigh and sniggled. “Anyways. Are you going speak to your other friend again? His name escapes me.” She snapped her finger three or four so odd times.

“Tyson.”

“Yes.”

“I would love to speak to him. I just don’t think he’ll speak to me.”

“If a man is attracted to you, he’ll have a very short memory.”

“So what do I do? I feel terrible. He’s a really good guy and I treated him like shit.”

“Is he really as handsome as you say he is?”

“Yes.”

“Then it probably wasn’t sweat off his brow. Being stood up bruised his tiny ego, but he got drunk, he went home, pleasured himself in the shower and woke up a brand new man.”

I put my hand over my face to hide my embarrassment. “How do you come up with all this stuff?”

“This
stuff
is experience, honey.” She got up and returned with another filled glass. “You said you’ve known him before, no?”

“In college.”

“Then lie to him. If he believes you – great. If not, oh well,” she rolled her eyes. “Most men know when you’re lying to them, but the thing between their legs makes them justify the lie.”

It was worth a shot.

***

“You know, I swear, if I had just met you, I probably wouldn’t have believed you.” I nodded. “You never lied to me. Always were trustworthy. How’s your friend doing?”

“Good. False alarm.”

The fake story in which I weaved was I had a friend call me (supposedly nine months pregnant) to take her to the hospital right before I left for the date. She had serious contractions and needed someone to taker hero the hospital. Being a loyal friend, I obliged. Her and the child’s father were splittsville so I was the only one who stepped up and helped her. The doctor said it was a false labor. They made her stay overnight to evaluate her and she didn’t want me to leave – not only because we were friends, but because she needed a ride. Then my battery died.

Under Barbara’s tutelage I rehearsed my monologue a few times before I dialed Tyson to apologize. I said drinks were going to be on me; he didn’t take long to accept my offer.

***

Over a tray of nachos and a few glasses of stout, we were nestled in a corner booth at Buster’s. Far from surprise place that Tyson had in mind, but the night was still filled with flirting and laughs. It was always like that with us.

I didn’t feel too pleasant lying to him, but Barbara was it right. I spun the story so well; I almost believed it myself.

“You seem like a good friend.”

“I’m an even better girlfriend.” I stole a glance as he pursed his luscious lips around his straw and took a sip. I wondered if they were as succulent as they were back in college. He caught me staring.

“What?”

“Let’s do a shot.”

“I can’t. I have go in to the office tomorrow.”

“On a Sunday morning?”

“Just tying up some loose ends.” The way his lips wrapped around the straw, I wished he tied up my loose ends.

“The old Ty would never turn down shots. And free ones at that.”

“You’re trying to say I’m old?

“No, I’m just stating the facts.”

Our server came over to the table refilling our waters. “Can I get these plates out of your way?” she asked.

“Sure. Thanks.” Tyson looked at her and smiled. Still polite. I couldn’t decide who the sexier smile belonged to: Tyson or Victor. Did it really matter?