Dark Descent into Desire

by J. J. Sorel

  My eyes traveled down to busy Fifth Avenue, where I spotted an effeminate man with a pug. “I suppose I can see a resemblance.”

  She laughed with a rasp. “Cecil’s a fag, you know.”

  I winced. “Gay, you mean?”

  “That’s right, they call them that now. One has to be respectful. Although I do resent the fact that I can no longer describe myself as gay if I’m having a nice day.” She sniffed. “In my day, they were either poofs or fags. I knew a few. They were always fun to have around. I’m sure Ashley was sucked off by one or two.”

  Having just taken a sip, I reacted to Aggie’s crude comment with a coughing fit.

  “Are you all right?” Aggie asked.

  I patted my chest and waited for it to settle. “I’m sorry, it went down the wrong way.”

  “I shocked you, didn’t I?” Aggie reached into a crystal box on the white filigree table by her side and brought out a cigarette, lighting it with a matching crystal lighter. Exhaling a puff of smoke, she asked, “You don’t smoke?”

  Shaking my head, I said, “Never have.”

  “In my day, we did it to stay slim.”

  “Your doctor hasn’t tried to make you quit?” I asked.

  She waved her hand as if shooing a fly. “I don’t have a doctor. I don’t believe in them. They poke around in places. Even when uninvited.”

  Another loaded comment. I was still gestating the one about her late husband being bisexual and wasn’t quite ready to ask if a doctor might have molested her.

  “I would have thought it wise to have a doctor to check over you.”

  “Why, because I’m eighty-two?”

  My head pushed back in surprise. “I wouldn’t have guessed you to be that.”

  Aggie studied me for a moment with narrowed eyes. “You’re telling the truth.”

  “I always do,” I said.

  “That’s not always wise.” She rose and walked back inside before I could respond and returned shortly, wearing sunglasses. “Mm… I love the sun, don’t you?”

  “I do.”

  “Are you a beach girl?”

  “I’d like to be,” I said, sipping my martini, which grew more appealing with each swallow. At the least, it relaxed me.

  “What stops you?” she asked.

  “Well, money, I suppose.”

  “You don’t have a boyfriend who spoils you? A beautiful girl like you.”

  I recalled Justin cowering at the prospect of a shark attack that one time we paddled in the shallows along the bay. “He’s not that kind of guy, I suppose.”

  “Then he doesn’t spoil you?”

  I shrugged. “Justin’s not really into that.”

  “Get rid of him then,” she said, looking out into the distance onto the Hudson River that sat behind the variegated green lushness of the park.

  I bit my lip. “He’s my boyfriend.”

  She turned to study me again. “He’s well hung?”

  I swallowed. “Um… I’m not sure. If he…” I stammered. Was I really about to discuss my boyfriend’s penis with an octogenarian?

  Aggie grinned at my stunned expression. “Don’t fall for that nonsense that size doesn’t matter. Monty was hung like a horse. And my, oh my.” She fanned her face. Wiggling her little finger, she added, “Ashley, on the other hand, had a tiny little thing, but he had a huge bank account to make up for it, I suppose.”

  I had no idea how to respond to that. A faint nod was the best I could offer.

  For the rest of that afternoon, I watched Aggie drink five martinis, while I barely finished the small glassful I’d poured earlier. Whatever this was— strange, to say the least—I developed a deep fascination for my new employer. And as she saluted me, asking me to find my own way out, I bowed and thanked her profusely.

  When I stepped onto the busy avenue, the thought struck me that I hadn’t called Justin. Grabbing my phone, I pressed on his number, but it went to voicemail, so I left a message apologizing and headed back to my tiny, messy excuse for a home.

  CHAPTER TWO

  After what had been an odd, if not eventful week, I kicked back my shoes and slumped back on my sofa. There was a party to go to. And I looked forward to catching up with Cassie, mainly because I wanted to tell her about my new job. I’d already tried telling Justin about it, but his eyes glazed over, as they often did whenever I spoke about myself.

  Hating to admit it, but I wasn’t sure why we were together. Having never been in love, I had no idea what it felt like. One thing was for sure: whenever I was with Justin, I didn’t experience a racing heart or butterflies in the belly. I just assumed that love didn’t consume one in real life as it did the characters in books and movies. There was also my mom’s take on marriage: that security should come first and that passion was the cherry on the cake.

  Justin was hot. Or at least all his female colleagues seemed to think so, going by how they hovered around while hanging on his every word. We didn’t really have much conversation. I’d often tried. But Justin wasn’t much of a listener. And where sex was concerned, he’d thrust into me a dozen or so times, climax, and then fall onto his back and snore.

  All in all, it was ordinary. So why was I with Justin? The short answer was that after being single for a long time, I liked the idea of a boyfriend and had convinced myself that passion would eventually grow.

  As I sat there wondering about what to wear to the party, I thought about Aggie and how she’d drifted in and out of sleep while I read to her. Then I’d stop, and she’d wake up. She’d then ask me to continue and make me repeat the scenes where Cathy and Heathcliff ran along the windswept, craggy moors vowing undying love for each other. At times, Aggie waved her hand for me to skip a paragraph or page, as though she wished only to relive the passionate, heart-ripping moments. Her appetite for those passages, like the book itself, began to haunt me.

  As all these thoughts percolated away, the sound of the buzzer startled me. I rose with a heavy body to answer it.

  “Hey. It’s me,” Cassie sang.

  “Come on up. The elevator’s not working,” I said.

  “Damn. I’ve got my killer heels on.”

  “Sling them over your shoulder, then,” I said with a chuckle.

  I opened the door and listened as her panting echoed up the stairs.

  Cassie pushed open the stairwell door and scowled. “You need”—she leaned against the wall to get her breath— “to move somewhere with a working elevator.”

  “That, and somewhere miles away from the drug dealer downstairs,” I said, referring to the comings and goings at all hours of the night, which kept waking me up.

  Cassie strolled in, looking gorgeous as always. She had long legs that seemed to go forever, a svelte frame, and high cheekbones framed by bouncy blonde waves. Her big green, friendly eyes, however, were her best feature.

  We kissed each other on the cheek and hugged. Friends for ten years, we’d met at a contemporary dance class, after which we became close. We slept over at each other’s homes as teenagers and shared growing pains, laughing and crying together, mainly through Cassie’s considerable sexual awakening.

  Being a slow starter, I had been more into books than boys. Then as I developed some curves that even loose T-shirts couldn’t hide, I noticed boys checking me out. Instead of fluttering my eyelashes, I went the color of beetroot. When they handed out the manual for how to be a coquette, I missed out. But thankfully, by the end of my teenage years, I’d lost all shyness around boys. If anything, I probably talked too much.

  My mother, who had the same disease, constantly chided me for it. She’d babble on about how men didn’t like women who yapped on and on. I would look at her with a furrowed brow. “The apple hasn’t fallen far from the tree, Mom. You seem to lecture whoever’s within earshot. And you don’t discriminate— man, woman, or dog.” I laughed, thinking of how she would chatter away to our dog when no one else was around.

  She’d place her hands on her hips and sa
y, “I’m lucky. I landed a man that likes an assertive woman. But that’s rare. The movers and the shakers, the rich guys out there, aren’t into women who talk too much.”

  “Oh well, then they won’t be leaving their shiny designer shoes under my bed, will they?”

  She’d give me one of her glares, while my sweet father, who was always on my side, would giggle. I loved him for that. I could have married a loser, and he still would have supported me. But then, Justin was the catch of the century, according to my mom, so she had little to complain about.

  Being the one that always got the guys, Cassie had earned the nickname Male Magnet. The leftovers would flirt with me—the short, slightly chubby, dark-haired girl whose dress sense centered around loose and comfortable rather than sexy and showy.

  “Why aren’t you dressed?” asked Cassie, her eyes moving up and down my body.

  “I just got back,” I said, sighing. “And who has a birthday party on a Thursday, anyway?”

  She shrugged. “The rich and idle.”

  I entered my tiny kitchen, which could barely accommodate two people. Opening the fridge, I grabbed a carton of juice and poured out two glasses, passing one to Cassie. “Here, looks like you can use a bit of rehydration.”

  She took a sip, and then stood up. “Come on, let’s see what you’re wearing.”

  My bedroom, the size of a cupboard, was all bed and very little else.

  “When are you going to move in with Justin? His apartment’s huge compared to this. And at least it’s in SoHo. Think of the fun we could have,” she said, raising a brow.

  Cassie was a party girl through and through. Although she was ready to pounce on marital bliss, I imagined she’d always be that girl who, at the drop of a hat would go out for a drink, shopping, or any outing involving a cocktail, a pretty frock, and plenty of eye candy in the shape of well-built men.

  “I’m miles from that, Cas. We’ve only been dating for three months.”

  Twirling a blonde lock in her fingers, Cassie said, “That’s how long Marcus and I’ve been together. But you know that. We all met the same night.”

  I nodded, thinking of that night out. After one of our dance classes, Cassie and I had headed over to a trendy bar in SoHo and met our future boyfriends, who were full of swagger, confidence, and noisy male bravado. Being cousins, Marcus and Justin were similar in many ways, though Justin had the loudest mouth and drank the most.

  It was because Justin was a lawyer that my mother obsessed over him becoming her future son-in-law. She’d married my darling father, who made furniture and lacked drive, much to her chagrin. Even though she bossed him around, Dad didn’t seem to mind. He always smiled back to me, apologizing for her outbursts. He loved her madly, and although my mom called him a lazy so and so, she was crazy about him too.

  Cassie removed three dresses from my wardrobe. “I suppose one of these will do.” Her lips turned down. “If only we were the same size. I could have lent you one of mine. It’s a fancy affair. You realize the whole family will be there.”

  I grimaced. “Shit. I’m not sure if I’m in the mood for that. And I look terrible.”

  Cassie smiled. “You’re so pretty with that thick, dark hair of yours. You should wear it out. And I’d kill for your breasts.”

  “I’d kill for your long legs, big green eyes, and just about everything, Cas.”

  We stared at each other and giggled.

  She took out a green dress. “I like this on you.”

  “I haven’t worn that for a while. I suppose that will do.”

  “We need to go shopping for some new clothes, Aves. You haven’t bought anything new for so long.”

  “Hello… I’ve barely been able to pay my rent.” I tilted my head.

  “That’s about to change. And anyway, you’re with a seriously rich guy.”

  “Justin’s not that rich. He’s doing well, I suppose for a twenty-five-year-old.”

  “He’s an up-and-coming lawyer. Driven and ambitious. And according to Marcus, he inherited some killer stocks from his late father that are kickassing.”

  “Kickassing?”

  Cassie giggled. “Don’t go all English lit on me. You know what I mean. Now come on, get dressed. I’m dying for a drink. It’s been one of those weeks. My boss and his creepy little fingers.”

  My brow lowered. “Are you fucking kidding me? You need to punch him out.”

  “I know. But I need the job. It’s a leading PR firm that everyone’s dropping their panties to get. I suppose the odd little squashy-feely moment’s not going to hurt.” Her mouth twitched into a faint smile.

  Seriously concerned for my friend, I wasn’t buying her stoicism. “Now listen, Cas, you’re being sexually harassed. He’s so out of line. You should report him. I know you. I can see that he’s creeping you out.”

  She shook her head. “I shouldn’t have said anything. And you better not say anything to Marcus or Justin.”

  “So, what does he do exactly?” I pulled off my T-shirt and lowered my sweats.

  “Fuck, Ava. You’ve lost some weight.”

  That was music to my ears. “I’m now a size 12. Great, eh? I’ve been running up flights of stairs and have dropped my daily donut intake to one.” I laughed at my one and only bad habit. Sugar. I would have poured it down my throat if I could have. The trouble was my butt always collected every lousy calorie.

  I slipped into the green dress with a high neckline and an A-line skirt. Studying myself in the mirror, I could see that it flattered without making me look too top heavy.

  “You’re looking great, Ava. What are you doing with that hair?”

  “I’ll put it in a bun, as usual.” I twisted my braid to create a bun on top. With my longish face, it suited me to have the height.

  “You haven’t answered my question,” I said.

  Cassie sat back on the bed. Her crossover chiffon skirt fell open, revealing stockings. When it came to sexy and stylish, she owned it.

  “He touches my arm and often brushes past me. So that I can feel his…”

  My face scrunched in disgust. “His dick… Fuck… I’m going to report the jerk if you don’t.”

  Standing by my side at the mirror, Cassie adjusted her floral skirt and then leaned toward the mirror to study her makeup. “Please promise me you won’t, Aves. I need this job. I’m only telling you because you’re my best friend.”

  “All right. But promise me you won’t go to any of those late-night office parties.”

  “No fucking way. I’m not that stupid. Anyway, he’s fucking Amy.”

  “Amy? The one that wants your job?”

  She nodded grimly. “Yep. A real ladder climber that one. That’s the problem. The ones who are willing to fuck their creepy bosses get better roles.”

  “That’s so sad. These ambitious hussies are relegating the sisterhood back to the Dark Ages.”

  Cassie giggled. “Sweetie, it’s always been that way.”

  “Hm… doesn’t mean we should keep putting up with it.” I tilted my head.

  She just shrugged and continued to fix her hair in the mirror.

  “Do I need a coat?”

  “I didn’t bring one,” said Cassie, watching me as I took one final look at myself in the mirror. “You need some kohl around your eyes and a bit of lip gloss.” Cassie pulled out a kohl stick. “I’ve got a brown one. It’s subtle.” She passed it to me.

  I stretched the skin of my eye and drew a faint line at the bottom of my lid and under my eye. I turned to face her. “How’s that?”

  She nodded slowly. “Much better. You look really pretty.”

  The cab dropped us off at the driveway of one of those large houses that resembled something out of Dynasty with its poplar-lined paths and an entrance held up by glistening white columns.

  As I gaped at the white-brick McMansion, I whistled. “Holy Moly… I didn’t realize Marcus’s parents were so rich.”

  Cassie stood there under the lamplight, her f
ace glowed with expectation. “Isn’t it great.” She linked her arm into mine. “Now you know why I’m here to stay. Small penis notwithstanding.”

  I stopped walking, and my head turned so sharply I nearly suffered whiplash. “What?”

  A cheeky grin crossed her lips. That was Cassie, always throwing the unexpected at me. We’d never really spoken much about her sex life with Marcus, which was odd, given that sex was one of her favorite subjects. Although Cassie wore her ambition to marry an obscenely rich man, regardless of attraction, on her designer sleeve, I still found myself taken aback.

  “It’s not the size though that matters. It’s what they do with it,” I said, wavering slightly. Having never had an orgasm while being penetrated, I wasn’t exactly in familiar waters, while Aggie’s “size did matter” comment entered my thoughts at the same time.

  “Just wait till you’ve had more experience. Although…” She turned to face me. “You’re always changing the subject. I bet Justin’s hung.”

  “You’re being prurient.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Vulgar. In any case, I have no idea how big ‘hung’ is.”

  Her hands stretched apart. “And so thick.” Her fingers circled her wrist.

  “He’s not like that.” My forehead scrunched. “It would hurt, wouldn’t it?”

  “Oh my God, Ava. You’re so inexperienced.” She took me by the hand. “Tell me, does he make you come?”

  My face heated up.

  “He hasn’t, has he?” Cassie exclaimed.

  I shrugged. “It’s not all about that. And he’s my first. It all happens pretty quickly, to be honest.”

  “Shit, Ava. It’s meant to be pleasurable. I know I enjoy it.”

  “But you just admitted to Marcus having a small…”

  “Go on, say it. Dick.” She giggled. “He’s not that small, he’s normal sized. I was just exaggerating to get a response. He’s a very giving lover, with a nice expressive tongue as well.” Her eyebrows bounced up and down.

  “Mm… okay.” I grabbed her by the hand. “Come on. Enough talk about sex. Let’s go in.”