Easy Virtue

by Mia Asher

  As I wait for dessert to arrive, I look at the man sitting to my left. He’s watching me as well, appraising me. He also happens to look as appealing and delicious as that glass of red wine in his hand.

  “What are you thinking about? You seem distracted,” I hear him say, bringing me out of my reverie.

  “I don’t know … just meaningless stuff, really. You have an enchanting home, by the way.”

  “Thank you.”

  I reach for my glass of wine and take a sip. “You’re a man of few words, aren’t you? I haven’t shut up since we sat down to eat and you’ve barely said more than two words.”

  “Really? I hadn’t noticed,” he says sarcastically, his eyes twinkling.

  “Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, but you get my meaning.”

  “There’s not much to say that you probably haven’t already read on the Internet.”

  I laugh. “Guilty as charged. It was probably the first thing I did.”

  That earns me a smile—a sinful smile that shouldn’t feel as though it’s crawling under my skin, leaving a trace of heat behind, but it does. It definitely does.

  “It’s quite all right. Besides, I enjoy listening to you talk. I find it … refreshing.”

  “Yeah, right. I’m probably putting you to sleep. Anyway, you know what they say …”

  “No, why don’t you enlighten me?”

  I smirk. “It’s the quiet ones you have to be careful with. They have the dirtiest minds.”

  He roars with laughter, and somehow that makes me happy. Once he’s calmed down, he drains his wine in one gulp, places the glass on the table, and turns to look at me, amusement dancing in his green eyes.

  “I’m not a saint, Blaire. I’ve lived my life fully and had more than a few indulgences along the way.”

  “Good because I’m no angel.”

  “Come here, Blaire, let me take a look at you,” he says, his voice growing husky.

  I take another sip of wine as we eye each other, making the moment stretch a little longer. The way he’s now staring at me—all traces of laughter gone—unnerves me, but I won’t cower in front of him. If anything, it makes me want to make him uncomfortable in return. I want to watch him lose his cool. Once I return my glass to the table, I wipe the corners of my lips with the cloth napkin that was on my lap and place it next to my spoon before I stand.

  When he realizes that I plan to sit on the table in front of him, he pushes his chair slightly back to give me the space I need. Once I’m seated, we face each other silently, each daring the other to finally cross the line we’ve been skirting all night and acknowledge that this isn’t some sort of romantic date. Quite the contrary.

  “Go ahead.” I spread my legs as wide as the tight skirt of my dress will allow. “Take a look.” I place one hand on the cool wood underneath me for support, and use my free hand to pull my black thong to the side, completely baring myself to him. “Tell me, Lawrence … do you like what you see?”

  He’s quiet as he takes all of me in. His breathing doesn’t catch. His eyes, though dark with desire, don’t hesitate to boldly peruse my body. He remains calmly seated in the high-back wooden chair as I brazenly expose myself to him. I should be ashamed—embarrassed—but instead, pure and unadulterated excitement runs through my veins, making my body hum with an illicit kind of thrill. The man is a taboo … forbidden, yet so appealing.

  After several seconds, or an eternity, he stands between my legs, the chair making a scratching sound as he pushes it back. He strokes my upper thigh with the back of his hand ever so gently. Higher and higher his touch invades, assaulting my senses until it’s dangerously close to my entrance.

  “Tell me, Blaire. Why do you think you’re here?” he asks nonchalantly as I watch his hand finally slide between my thighs, spreading me open with two of his fingers. I can feel the roughness of his jeans caressing the inside of my thighs when he steps closer to me.

  I’m about to answer him when I feel his middle finger flick my clit, rubbing it in nice slow circles. I suppress a moan. “I’m here because I have something you want, and you have something I want.”

  “Spread your legs wider,” he orders and I follow. “You’re correct. I want to sleep with you for as long as I’m in New York. No strings attached, no feelings, no complications. And, Blaire, I’m willing to pay whatever you ask as long as you don’t forget those basic and simple rules.”

  “I won’t, but what happens after?”

  “You walk away with a full bank account.”

  Then he slips one … two … three fingers inside me, thrusting evenly, coating his fingers in my body’s reaction to his touch. Pumping in and out, fingering me on a table that probably costs more than two months of my rent.

  “You’re so responsive,” he says, withdrawing his damp fingers. He brings them inside his mouth and sucks them clean. I watch the flash of his tongue as he drags them out, my taste leaving a trace behind.

  I swallow hard when he returns his three fingers to my entrance and starts impaling me with his hand, forcing me to feel every single inch as they leave my body only to be driven back with more force than before. A part of me wants to hate his touch, wants to be disgusted with his proposition, but I would only be fooling myself. The real Blaire, the one who rules my decisions, fucking loves it.

  “What do you say, Blaire?” I hear him ask hoarsely, his voice finally giving him up. He’s as affected as I am.

  I moan, my body tight with pleasure and tension. My head swirls in a haze of lust. I’m a wanton woman at his feet, and I don’t care. As I watch his glistening fingers disappearing between my legs, I pant, “But what about love, Lawrence? Don’t you want my love too?”

  “No. Save that for your infinite conquests,” he says, the pad of his thumb now rubbing my clit mercilessly while he continues to finger-fuck me, driving me closer to blissful hell. “Or that special someone you talked about.”

  I gasp, placing a hand on his shoulder for support. I’m so close to coming … the colors in the room become brighter, my senses heightened. I don’t know why I asked that question. We understand each other perfectly: we use and we discard.

  He drives harder and harder and harder until my release hits me with the blinding power of thunder. A bodily frenzy takes over as I come undone from the inside out. My body drained from such a powerful climax, I open my eyes to find him watching me closely. The crests of his cheeks flushed, his hair still perfect, but the spark in his eyes burns so brightly, so vividly, I can feel it searing a hole through me. He leans forward as he pulls out and runs his wet fingers over my lips. I can smell myself on him, and if I wanted to, I could taste myself on his fingertips.

  “If love is what you seek, I suggest we finish dinner and pretend this conversation never happened. Let me keep your memory alive by not regretting having met you and being disillusioned with reality. I would rather remember you as the strikingly beautiful woman with the hunger in her eyes who didn’t care for plebeian feelings such as love.”

  “No need for that. I don’t want any of those things either. Love ruins everything.”

  “Good. So what do you say, Blaire? Will it be a yes … or a no?”

  “I’ll need a lot of money. I want a flat in SoHo with my name on its deed.” I grin. “I want to be spoiled rotten.”

  “Of course. I’ll give you that and more.”

  “Just one more question.”

  He smiles, appearing to have expected that. “Yes?”

  “Why choose me when you could be with anyone? Someone famous and more beautiful?”

  “More beautiful than you? I doubt it.”

  “Really?” I raise an eyebrow sardonically and purse my lips, which makes him laugh.

  Quiet for a moment as the room becomes a blur around us, he focuses his gaze on me and runs a hand through my long hair. “You’re too smart for your own good, Blaire. You know that, right? But fine. It’s because we speak the same language. You and me … we’re cut from t
he same cloth. We see something we want and we take it. We don’t let emotions get the better of us.”

  What do I have to lose? If I’m honest with myself, this is my dream come true. No feelings. No emotions. Just sex, and a shit load of money.

  “Okay,” I swallow once, “make me an offer.”

  “Name a sum.”

  I chew the inside of my lip, not sure how far to push him, but then I remember I have nothing to lose. Besides, I can tell that he really wants me. “Do you have a piece of paper?”

  Amusement lights up his eyes. “Why? Don’t tell me you’re feeling shy, Blaire?”

  I huff, but rise to his challenge nonetheless. “Fine. I’ll tell you.”

  “There … that’s the Blaire I know and like.”

  I hold up one finger. “Start adding the zeros, my friend.”

  “Ten thousand.”

  Smiling impishly, I shake my head. “Come on, you can do better than that,” I tease.

  “A hundred thousand.”

  “Higher,” I say and make him chuckle.

  “A million.”

  I nod and feel as though I just gambled a fortune away on blackjack. “I want a million per month, for however long you need me. And that doesn’t include the apartment.”

  “It’s yours.”

  “That’s it?” I ask incredulously. “You’re giving me that much money just like that?”

  “Yes, why not? I’ve told you I want you. And I always get what I want.”

  Before I leave for the night, we come back to the library to grab my clutch. After I retrieve it from the same brown sofa where I sat earlier in the night, I turn to look at him. He’s standing by the entryway with his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, his shoulder propped casually against the open door. Looking calm and almost bored, it’s hard to imagine that this is the same man who just fucked me raw with his fingers on his dining room table.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to, um, return the favor? Isn’t that part of the deal?” I ask, thinking that it’s funny how things between us can go from purely sexual to friendly—almost as if nothing has happened.

  He cups the back of his neck, rubbing it. “Not tonight, Blaire. Go home, sleep on our agreement, and call me tomorrow to let me know your final decision.”

  “Why? You don’t think I can make sound decisions in the throes of ecstasy?” I mock.

  He chuckles once. “Frankly, Blaire, I couldn’t care less. But the next time we see each other I plan to fuck you until you don’t know whether you’re begging me to stop or begging me to fuck you harder. Until the hours cease to exist and the only thing that matters is total surrender. I plan on putting that beautiful and brazen mouth of yours to good use, and not for conversation, darling. So yes, I want you to go back to your apartment and sleep on it.”

  His crude honesty makes my heart race. “I understand, but I won’t change my mind. I’ve made my final decision,” I say, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.

  “Another trait we have in common … but one last thing before you go.”

  “Aha?”

  “What do you expect from all of this, Blaire?”

  “I don’t expect anything because if I did, I would be sorely disappointed. Reality is never as good as one’s imagination.” I want to add that, as a young girl, I learned not to expect anything because each time I got my hopes up it would only bring utter disappointment and heartache. But I don’t. Silence is golden after all.

  He stares at me as if trying to figure out a difficult math equation. “You puzzle me, Blaire. Who are you? What are you?”

  I look him in the eye and smile. “Complicated.”

  In the silence filled car as Tony drives me back to my apartment, I get the impression that he knows not to ask questions or chat with me. He probably understands better than I do that I need quiet at this moment.

  Staring out the window, I follow the bright moon as we speed across the Long Island Expressway back to Manhattan. I watch her hide behind dark clouds, only to resurface minutes later and illuminate the night sky once more. Mentally and physically exhausted after an evening spent with Lawrence, I close my eyes and think of him. I think about the chill I felt as I left his house, the same prickling sensation behind my neck of being watched returning as I approached the car with Tony standing by the open door. And how, when I looked back toward the entrance, I found him watching me leave from the library window.

  And that’s when it hits me.

  We never kissed.

  The next afternoon …

  EARLIER IN THE DAY, I CALLED Elly and asked her to meet me for lunch at our favorite sushi place. I want to tell her what is going on, and that I’m not going back to work. Well, at least not for the time that I’m supposed to be Lawrence’s sidepiece.

  I suspect it also has to do with the fact that I want to get out of my apartment. His green eyes, his voice, and the memories from yesterday keep tormenting me like a nightmare over and over again. I can’t get them out of my head. I haven’t called him, and I’m not exactly sure why. I guess part of me likes to play games, and I want to make him and his millions wait, or maybe I’m afraid that I imagined the whole thing.

  Once we get to the restaurant, a cozy place in the Lower East Side that serves the best bento lunch box in the city, a hostess with long black hair guides us to a table at the back. A small block of wood that functions as a table is painted an opaque black and very low to the ground. We sit on long, cherry-red cushions that cover the floor, facing each other. House music is playing in the background, reminding me of my Buddha Bar’s CDs back at home.

  “So, how is your guitar player?” I ask Elly as I remove the paper wrapping from the chopsticks, split them in half, and rub them together to remove the splinters.

  “I’d like to first say that I can’t be held responsible for my behavior when under the influence of good music.”

  “That good, huh?” I ask.

  She blushes. “Oh my God, Blaire … he’s perfect. I couldn’t wait the three-date minimum. I just couldn’t.”

  I grin and place the chopsticks next to my plate. “You, my friend, suffer from rock star goggles.”

  She giggles. “Maybe. But seriously, I didn’t plan on sleeping with him so soon. Things just happened.”

  “Oh, I bet they did. But how soon are we talking about here?”

  She covers her burning cheeks with her hands and shakes her head, smiling. “Second date. And I mean it, Blaire! Things just happened. He had a small gig in a bar around NYU. After the show was over, a couple of his friends and their girlfriends went back to his apartment to hang out. At first we just made out for hours in his bedroom, you know? And, well, one thing led to the other … until—”

  “Until he ended up plucking your G string?” I joke. We laugh out loud as she blushes some more.

  She shakes her head and purses her lips, trying not to smile. “Like I’m going to tell you. I’m a lady, remember? I don’t kiss and tell.”

  “Just be careful and don’t forget to use protection, Elly. You don’t want to catch something like chlamydia, or, God forbid, commitment.”

  She giggles. “Duh! Anyway, enough about me. Tell me what’s new with you? How are things going with Ronan?”

  My heart contracts painfully. “He’s gone.”

  She frowns. “What do you mean he’s gone? You were talking about him like three days ago.”

  I pause as our waiter places a bowl filled with steaming edamame in front of us. After we thank her and watch her leave, I resume our conversation.

  “Yeah, well, it’s over. He got too close for comfort,” I say, surprised at how indifferent I sound.

  “Oh-kay … and? What’s going on, Blaire?”

  Surrounded by bamboo walls and the aroma of teriyaki sauce drifting in the air, I look Elly in the eye and reveal how shameless I truly am. “I don’t know if you remember the guy at the restaurant? The one who asked to speak with me privately. Anyway, it doesn’t matter.
I met up with him yesterday and … he offered me a shitload of money to sleep with him on a regular basis as long as I don’t expect a marriage proposal from him when everything is said and done. So I said yes.”

  Elly almost spits out the hot tea in her mouth. “What did you just say?”

  I lift the teacup to my lips and take a small sip of the smooth brew, feeling it burn my throat as it goes down. “Yep, I’m getting paid for as long as we’re together. And get this—his assistant made me fax her a copy of my most up to date blood work and she sent me his, which was totally weird but at least I know he’s clean and saf—”

  She shakes her head, waving her hands to stop me from continuing. “Wait … wait … wait … WHAT? You couldn’t possibly have done something like that, Blaire.”

  I laugh. My best friend is really naïve when it comes to me sometimes.

  “Believe it.” I pause to put my cup down in front of me and make sure it’s perfectly centered. “I went to his house yesterday, though I shouldn’t call it a house because it’s like the biggest place I’ve ever seen. Anyway, we had dinner, and he made his offer while he fingered me on the dining room table. I accepted. Apparently we understand each other very well.”

  “Please tell me this is a big joke,” she says, disapproval voiced in every word of hers.

  “Nope, it’s as real as it gets.”

  She shakes her head a couple times, her chestnut curls bouncing. “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

  “Well, you better come to terms with it, Elly, because I am.”

  “But what about Ronan? Because, trust me, you wouldn’t have told me about him if you weren’t serious. I know you, Blaire, even if you keep telling yourself that I don’t.”