by Whitney G.
“You’re right.” He stared at me. “I could just ask you.”
He left without saying another word.
...
Kate
~ December 24, 2008 ~
I STOOD AT THE TOP of the grand staircase, watching guests mingle under the hallway’s glittering chandeliers and glistening Christmas trees.
Per my mother’s suggestion, I was wearing a shimmering black dress with grey feathers on the shoulders. My neck was dripping in diamonds, and even though our stylist had spent hours flat ironing my hair, she’d ultimately pulled it back into a simple chignon bun.
Tonight marked the tenth Kensington Holiday Ball, and only the top socialites and wealthiest people of Edgewood were invited to partake in this year’s “Masquerade for the Night” affair. The suffocating scent of arrogance was in the air, and I couldn’t wait until this shit was over.
Walking down the steps, I smiled and greeted the familiar faces, laughed at jokes I’d heard hundreds of times before.
“You could at least pretend like you’re as happy to be here as I am.” Sarah Kay was suddenly at my side, looking stunning in a poppy-pink dress. “I mean, look at all the people who are here just to suck up to our blood-thirsty parents. It warms my soul, you know?”
I laughed and channeled my mother’s voice. “I’m very happy to be here, since a Kensington woman should never have anything to frown about. Especially in public.”
“Oh, darling.” She played along and pulled me in for a hug. “I knew you’d come around and eventually become as vapid and soulless as me. I’m so happy!”
We both burst into laughter and I hugged her a little tighter.
“Alright, enough.” She pulled away from me and looked at her watch. “I say we work the room for half an hour, show our faces, and then get the hell out of here after your solo performance. Deal?”
“Absolutely.”
I made it about fifteen minutes—shaking hands and smiling so hard it hurt, In the middle of talking to a guest about her “awful experience” at the Prada store (“They only had two of their new line of clutches, and I needed three.”), I realized that I couldn’t take this anymore. The crowd this year was even more annoying than the one the year before, and outside of bragging about themselves, everyone wanted to mention how “impressive” it was that I’d put off graduate school to pursue my so-called dream of being a world-renowned cellist.
I grabbed a glass of champagne off a tray and leaned against a wall. I pulled out my phone and saw that James had sent me a text message.
James: Are you having fun at the party?
Me: I would be if you were here.
James: If I was there, we wouldn’t be at the party at all...
Me: Exactly.
“Your mother really knows how to throw an affair.” A woman in a beige dress stepped in front of me. It took me all of three seconds to realize that she was one of the Vogue magazine editors who my mother was desperately trying to impress. “She must have spent years nurturing all ten of the gardens that are here. I am beyond impressed with her skills.”
“Would you be as impressed if I told you that she’s never lifted a single finger to maintain it?” I downed the rest of my drink. “She wouldn’t know a rose from a tulip, and deep down, you know that. If you don’t, you may want to try something other than being a journalist at Vogue.”
She gasped and placed her hand on her chest. “I can’t believe you just said that to me.”
“Feel free to quote me in your article then.” I walked away and headed straight for the gallery. I wanted to get this solo performance over with.
I took a seat in front of my cello and began tuning it.
“Oh, wait. Wait, wait.” My father stepped in front of me. Then he clinked his champagne glass.
He waited for the conversations to become soft whispers, then silence. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please? As you know, our oldest daughter is an accomplished cellist who has been wowing crowds around the country since she was nine years old.”
A loud applause filled the room.
“What you may not know,” he continued, “is that tonight is also the wedding anniversary for me and Mrs. Kensington, and to celebrate, we’ve asked Kate to perform one of our favorite songs. Take it away, Kate.”
I took a deep breath and played the first note of A Thousand Years, then I smiled and dragged my bow against the strings—playing an “EEEEEEK!” screech that damn near shattered the windows.
Time to fuck the rest of it up...
I plucked the strings like a toddler, tapping the wood belly whenever they didn’t sound loudly enough. I played the alphabet song in reverse—taking my time and drawing out each bad note. When I struck the last note—a harsh D that I held for several seconds too long, I heard a glass shatter onto the floor.
I moved my bow to resting position and smiled as I looked around the room.
No one said a word. They sipped their wine and looked away from me. A few whispers started in the back, and then a few people clapped, but it didn’t last long.
I stood to my feet and took a bow. “Thank you all very much. It was an absolute pleasure playing for you this evening.”
Silence.
I shrugged and left the room, making my way into the library. Before I could text James and beg him to come and get me, my mother stormed into the room and slammed the door shut.
Teary-eyed, she glared at me from across the room. “How the hell could you embarrass me like that, Kate?” Her voice was hoarse. “In front of all those people? All my friends...”
She moved toward me and I stepped back until I was pressed against a bookshelf, until she was right in front of me.
“I just—” She wiped her eyes. “I didn’t raise you to be a cunt, and I don’t know who or what has gotten into you, but within the next hour, you’re going to go back out there and apologize to everyone. Then you’re going to make me forget all about the utter disappointment you’ve become and play for us like you’re sitting center stage at Carnegie Hall.”
“And if I don’t?”
“You will.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Because you have thirteen million reasons why you’ll never pull this shit again. If you want to give up your musical career and to be average and focus on graduate school, be my guest, but you’re not going to do it tonight.”
I said nothing. I could only glare at her.
“This is by far, one of the worst things you’ve ever done to me,” she said. “It’s going to take at least two years for me to forgive you for this.” She stepped back and walked to the door. “I look forward to hearing your corrected performance.” She left the room.
I slumped into a chair and tried to decide if leaving right now would be worth it. If I could pack up everything and make it on my own. As I was weighing the pros and cons of jumping out of the window, the door opened and a suited guy in a grey mask walked inside.
“The estate library isn’t open to guests right now,” I said. “You can’t be in here.”
He smiled, and I immediately realized it was James.
He lifted the mask over his head, revealing his face. “Do you really want me to leave?”
“Not at all.” I stood up and walked over to him, accepting a long kiss from his lips. “I thought you said you weren’t coming to the party.”
“I wasn’t.” He cupped my face in his hands. “Until I got your text message about being miserable.”
“Well, I fucked everything up and I doubt I’ll be able to get out of here unnoticed, so you can drive back home if you want.”
“It’s a little too late for that.” He ran his fingers through my hair. “What have I missed?”
“I messed up my solo.”
“I heard it.” He smiled. “It’s what these people deserve, though. These people aren’t your friends, Kate. You’re choosing to let them run you.”
A loud knock came to the door before I could respond to that.
&
nbsp; “Kate?” It was Grant. “Kate, are you still in there? Your mom sent me to talk to you for a second.”
I sighed.
James pressed a finger against his lips and stepped into the closet.
“Kate?” He called again.
“Yeah, I’m in here.”
The door opened and Grant shut himself inside the room.
“Well,” he said, letting out a breath. “That was probably the worst performance I’ve ever seen from you. Like, I’m pretty sure that I can play the violin better than that.”
“I play the cello.”
“It’s the same thing.”
“It’s really not.” I was irritated. “What did she send you in here to say?”
“The usual.” He stepped close, a little too close. “Tell you that I’m your friend and I’ll always be here for you, even when you do stupid shit like that. So, as your friend, you should know that I’m willing to help you fix this.”
He trailed his finger against my exposed collarbone, and I flinched at his touch.
“Did you hear that?” He jerked his hand away and looked behind me. “That grunting sound?”
“No.” I swallowed. I definitely heard James let out a pissed groan from the closet.
“Well, anyway.” He tugged at one of the feathers on my dress. “We both know that your parents will hold a grudge against you for this for God knows how long, so I’m willing to help you out.”
“I don’t want any of your help, Grant.”
“I’ll tell your mom that me and you have been dating and that you played terribly to spite me, not her. Then you’ll give me what I asked you for in my car several weeks ago—at least five times.” He paused. “Okay, I know you heard that. Where the hell is that growling coming from?”
“I don’t hear anything...”
“Maybe it’s me, then.” He shook his head. “Anyway, I’ll let you think on my offer for a little while longer. I’ll be right outside that door, so feel free to come get me when it’s a yes.”
“It’s going to be a hell no.”
“We’ll see.” He winked at me before stepping out and slamming the door.
“What offer is he talking about?” James stepped out the closet, pulling me into his arms.
“It’s nothing.” I shrugged. “It’s just Grant being Grant.”
“Well, I don’t know Grant at all, so tell me.”
“It’s...He wants me to give him a blowjob.”
“What?”
“He wants me to do that in exchange for all of his car rides.”
“I see...” He clenched his jaw. “When exactly did he first ask you for that?”
“The night I saw you at the fair, but I haven’t gotten in his car since.”
“Do you plan on ever getting in it again?”
“No.”
“Good.” He clasped my hand and walked me over to the door. “In that case, I think we should let him hear your final answer loud and clear.”
“What do you mean?”
He pressed his lips against mine in response, kissing me long and hard as he pinned me against the door with his hips.
“Keep your eyes open,” he whispered, staring at me. “I want to see what you look like when you come.” He briefly tore away from my mouth and slid his hand under my dress.
Finding his way to the band of my panties, he yanked them off and stuffed them into his back pocket. Then he slipped two fingers deep inside of me—using his thumb to strum my swelling clit.
“Unbuckle my pants,” he commanded softly.
I obliged, unfastening the button as quickly as I could.
Wanting to gain some control, I started to push the band of his briefs down—stopping when I felt saw the size of his cock. My eyes went wide.
Oh. My. God...
“Take it out,” he said, a smile in his voice.
I pushed his briefs down a bit further and slowly pulled all of him out.
“Good girl,” he said, tilting my chin up and kissing me. “How do you want me to fuck you?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I was still stunned by the size of his cock, and all I could do was mindlessly kiss him.
Unsatisfied with my silence, he bit down on my bottom lip—hard, and held it between his teeth for several seconds as he put on a condom. When he finally released it, he lifted my leg around his waist and slid his cock inside of me all the way, not giving me a chance to adjust to his long, thick length.
I cried out in pleasure and couldn’t help to shut my eyes as he moved in and out of me, as he mercilessly pounded into me and kept my ass pressed against the door.
“Ahhhhh...” He squeezed my ass again as he fucked me harder, and I couldn’t help but moan even louder.
“Kate?” Grant knocked on the door. “Are you alright in there?”
James stared into my eyes, and I didn’t dare answer Grant.
I was focused on James and only James.
“Oh goddd...” I felt waves of pleasure building inside of me, felt like I was seconds away from losing all control. “Godddd...”
“Don’t shut your eyes on me,” James said, thrusting into me one more time as my body finally gave in and climaxed around him.
He steadied me against the door as he found his own release, and I heard him whispering a few words I couldn’t quite understand into my ear.
He held me until I was able to stand on my own, rubbing his hands against my back.
He smoothed my hair back into place, clasping my hands. “Don’t let these people run your life, Kate,” he said, kissing my forehead. “You can always choose what you want to do.”
“Can I start by choosing not to play my cello solo again?”
“No.” He smiled and opened the door. “I think I just fucked all of the stress out of you, so you might as well put it to use.” He slipped out of the room, leaving my mind racing with new questions and decisions I needed to make.
I didn’t make any final decisions that night, but when it was time to play my solo, I played the best I’d ever played in my life.
I can handle another day
I COULD NO LONGER DENY the truth when it came to Kate. She was still hands-down, the best sex I’d ever had, and from the looks she gave me in between all of our escapades, I knew that there were still feelings there. Not only that, but I was sleeping better. Ever since that day she walked into my boardroom.
Pacing my office, I weighed the pros and cons of giving ‘us’ another try.
Pro: more chances to experience the best sex of my life
Pro: more chances to be around Kate whenever I want
Con: She didn’t wait for me and has yet to explain why
Con: She didn’t wait for me and has yet to explain why
I sighed and contemplated a temporary, friends-with-benefits arrangement instead.
Maybe we can focus on the sex for the short-term and work on everything else as it comes.
Restless, I took the elevator down to the marketing department and walked to Kate’s office. I sat in the guest chair, in front of her desk and waited for her to return from her two o’clock coffee break.
Several minutes passed, and she never walked through the door. Her staff members strolled in ever so often, mindlessly stacking new paperwork onto her desk.
I waited a full half hour before sending her a text message.
Me: I’m aware that you may still be recovering from the weekend, but are you planning on coming to work today?
She didn’t text back.
I walked behind her desk and pushed aside the stack of papers that covered her keyboard. I turned on her monitor and noticed that she hadn’t answered any emails in the last sixteen hours.
Did she quit?
Pulling out my phone, I sent Mr. Levin an email.
SUBJECT: QUESTION.
Did you receive any new resignation letters from anyone this weekend?
Sean Holmes
CEO of Pier Autumn Coffee
SUBJECT:
RE: QUESTION.
Only the ones you’ve redrafted for other employees, sir...
Joshua Levin
Human Resources Department,
Pier Autumn Coffee
CONFUSED, I WALKED through the department and stopped in front of her lead manager’s desk.
“Well, hello.” She smiled. “How may I help you today, Mr. Holmes?”
“I’m looking for Miss Kennedy.”
“You shouldn’t be.” She batted her eyes. “Not when I’m sitting right here.”
“Excuse me?”
“I didn’t say anything.” She cleared her throat and tapped her tablet. “According to my memo, she took her assistant to Lake Tahoe yesterday morning. She wanted to get some better pictures for one of the backgrounds.”
“When’s the last time you heard from her?”
She shrugged. “I guess this past Friday. I’m sure they’ll be back in a few hours.”
“Thank you.” I turned around and headed to my office, but I felt like something was off.
Kate had never been late, and she always made a point to email the board her weekly agenda by the early morning hours.
I called her phone, and it went straight to voicemail. I called again. Voicemail.
Hmmm.
I scrolled down to her assistant’s name and called her instead.
“Oh, shit,” she answered on the first ring. “I mean, hello, Mr. Holmes! How are you doing on this lovely Monday morning?”
“It’s the afternoon.” I looked at my watch. “What time are you all planning to return to Seattle?”
“It depends on what you mean, when you say the word ‘time.’” She let out a nervous laugh. “I mean, what’s time when you think about it, really? We focus so much on the minutes, when it’s the moments that really count.”
“It’s a simple question, Summer.”
“Yeah, well—it sounded a bit complicated to me, sir.”
“Are you on drugs?”
“Ha! No, not at all.” Her crazy-ass tone didn’t convince me. “Funny you should ask about drugs, though. I’ve learned a lot about the helpful ones today.”
