Easy Virtue

by Mia Asher

  “Yes?”

  “When you’re in my bed, I want you naked. You, me, and nothing else, so don’t bother wearing these silly things in the future. There’s no point. Got it?”

  Have you ever watched the flame of a candle burn? The flicker twirling fluidly as it dances in the air without restraint, its beauty hypnotizing. You can’t look away. You don’t want to. That’s how I feel at this moment as Lawrence and I stare at each other. His eyes draw me in, searing through me and leaving a trail of heat behind.

  My mouth dry, I nod. “Am I going to see you tonight?”

  As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize that I want to see him again.

  Lawrence shakes his head. “Not tonight. I have a … business dinner of sorts that I can’t miss. I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”

  I shrug my shoulder, pretending that his refusal doesn’t sting, that I didn’t sense a lie underneath his excuse. “Okay … can I ask you a question before you leave?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are we exclusive or can we see other people when we’re not together? Not that I plan to, of course, but I’d like to know where things stand,” I say, thinking of Walker and how he blindsided me.

  “Blaire, we’re fucking, and hopefully having a great time together. Whatever you choose to do on your free time doesn’t concern me, and vice versa.”

  After we kiss goodbye, I make my way to the bathroom. I should take a shower, but without Lawrence here I feel like the intruder that I am and just want to go home. I’m brushing my teeth with the new toothbrush Lawrence’s cleaning lady left for me when my eyes land on the necklace. It reminds me of the conversation we had after having sex for the first time …

  We’re naked and lounging drowsily on his bed, sharing a glass of red wine when he asks me, “Have you always slept with men for money?”

  “Yes and no. I’m usually in relationships with them. Some last longer than others. Walker, the guy you saw me with at the Met the night I met you, was probably my longest one.”

  “Do you need the money? Debts? Is that why you do it?”

  “Not really. I just like it.” I smile as I let my palms caress the cool softness of the silk covering the mattress.

  “I see. No noble cause for fucking men like me, and selling your body,” he says wryly.

  “Nope. I let you fuck me because I like how much you pay me.”

  Lawrence places the wine glass on the table before he turns to kiss my chin. He slaps my ass playfully, then sits up with his back reclined against the headboard.

  “Then let’s get my money’s worth.”

  I stretch myself as though I were a cat and watch him out of the corner of my eye as he begins to stroke his cock with his hand. Getting on my knees, I straddle him as both of us watch his erection enter me slowly … the way the head opens me to his invasion … the penetration made easy by the mixture of new and old arousal from my body. I lean forward and hold onto the headboard as he fills me completely and say breathlessly, “Yeah, let’s.”

  Once I rinse my mouth, I look at myself in the mirror. All I see is an ambitious girl with almond-shaped blue eyes and midnight hair who is willing to give up just about anything to achieve her goals.

  I wonder how far is she willing to go to achieve them.

  But what are those? Happiness? Wealth?

  As I continue to stare at my reflection, I wonder if I even know what I’m chasing after anymore. I look so lost. The bitch inside me tells me that I may look lost but satisfied, and to check out the place. It’s huge, even for a townhouse. She also tells me that Ronan would never be able to give me any of this, so to stop playing the smallest maudlin violin in the world and get on with it. I feel like crying, but the tears won’t fall, and that’s all right. Because even if it were possible for me to do so, my tears shouldn’t be allowed. Tears are for people who are sorry for their actions.

  And I’m not.

  Life is a show where my soul is naked, but I’m covered in lies.

  And I’m okay with that because, in life, only the fittest survive.

  Lawrence offered me the service of one of his chauffeurs to drive me home, but I declined politely. I want some time alone to clear my head after everything that has happened in the past twenty-four hours, and the last thing I need is someone to look at me with judgment pouring out of their eyes because they know I’ve just spent the night having sex with their boss. Not that I think Tony would judge me, or that I would normally care, but I’m just not feeling up for it.

  Riding the elevator to my floor, I can’t wait to get to my apartment so I can get out of my clothes and take a long hot shower. Maybe relax by reading a book, or take a much-needed nap. But the moment I step out of the elevator, I know that isn’t possible.

  Ronan is sitting with his back against my door, waiting for me. As our eyes connect, I know it’s time to face the music.

  When I begin walking toward him, Ronan stands up from his place on the floor and turns to face me. My heart beats angrily against my chest, but I disregard my body’s response to him; the way my fingers itch to tame the familiar wild golden brown hair that frames his boyishly handsome face. Mind over matter, Blaire. Mind over matter. Yet, as I close the space between us, I feel as though I can’t breathe because of the pain gathering in the center of my chest.

  “So that’s it, huh? Not even an explanation as to why we’re done. Just a fucking text?”

  I cross my arms and lift my chin in challenge. “I thought it was best. I hate theatrics such as this.”

  “No, that isn’t it, Blaire, and you know it. I got too close, made you feel something real for once, and so the first chance you got, you ran.”

  “Don’t think so highly of yourself,” I drawl. “We were fucking and having fun. That was all.”

  He shakes his head. “Bullshit. You’re a fucking coward who’s too afraid to let someone in. So instead of dealing with your feelings like an adult, you pushed me out.”

  Anger boils inside me because the truth behind his words hurts. The funny thing is, I know he has every right to be angry with me because of the way I behaved toward him, but I can’t help myself. Never ruffle the feathers of a spiteful woman because she will not only want to hurt you, but she will want to draw your blood.

  “Yikes, you’re going for the jugular, aren’t you? Poor Ronan … I must’ve really hurt you, but I did warn you. I told you I wasn’t good for you.”

  “Yeah, I guess the fucking joke is on me for thinking that there was something real. Something I fucking needed … something I wanted so bad underneath your flawless exterior, but I was obviously mistaken. There’s nothing there.”

  “You only saw what you wanted to see, Ronan. I never pretended to be something I’m not,” I say, suddenly feeling like crying because I remember how he used to look at me how different it was from any other guy before.

  “How can someone as beautiful as you are have no heart?”

  I laugh bitterly. “I have no heart. I killed it. You and I were never meant to be together, so get it out of your fucking head. Besides, you’ll be okay. You’ll forget me in a couple of weeks.”

  “Be out of my mind? Forget you?” He runs his hands through his hair, tugging at the ends. “I’ve thought about you every single day since I’ve met you. Every part of me aches for you, cries for you, craves you.”

  I crack. “Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!”

  In a moment of weakness, I wonder what would happen if I ended things with Lawrence and asked Ronan to forgive me and give me another chance. But I don’t because it wouldn’t change the outcome.

  God, what a fool I am.

  I can already see it unfolding. If I let him in completely, he would break down all my walls one sweet kiss at a time and I would fall madly and deeply in love with him and the promise of a future together. I would think that I’ve finally found what I’ve been searching for all my life. And then one day he would look into my eyes and nothing would happen. Nothing. His eyes w
ouldn’t dance in the light when they landed upon my face. What he once thought beautiful would be ordinary. With my phony and expensive exterior infiltrated, he would realize how worthless, how ugly I am on the inside and he would leave me like everyone else has. Or maybe I would grow bored, like my mother did with her marriage to my father. Maybe I’d want that Chanel bag he couldn’t afford but someone like Lawrence could. The end result would always be the same, proving how unworthy of love I truly am.

  Ronan’s eyes soften for the first time since I’ve arrived. “Don’t do this, Blaire. Don’t give up on us.”

  “You’re blind, Ronan,” I mutter, my voice shaking.

  “No, you’re the one who’s blind, Blaire. Give me the chance to show you what I see. Give me a chance to prove to you that what we have is something special.”

  As we continue to stare at each other, anger fills me once again, corroding my heart and soul. His kind words, sharp as a serrated knife, manage to hurt me, cut me open. His truthful words are cruel, but such is the perverse nature of honesty. It’s rarely painless and always full of baggage.

  I take the last few steps that separate us as opposing thoughts spin in my head.

  Once I’m standing in front of him, I notice that Ronan is watching me warily. Good. He should be worried. Adrenaline pumps through my veins. A cool draft from the air conditioner envelops the small space between us, but I feel feverish. What I do next can’t be blamed on thoughtlessness or be classified as one of those spur-of-the moment-kind of things. Nope. It’s calculated. It’s meant to hurt him. It’s meant to show Ronan that I have the upper hand and not him. It’s meant to show him how ugly I am, shattering his noble and bogus opinion of me once and for all. He thinks I’m blind? No, it’s him. And I’ll show him just how blind he is.

  I give him my best smile—the one that makes grown men lose their mind and forget their values as long as they get to put their cock inside of me. Pushing myself against him, his hands instantly cup my ass. The length of our bodies glued, I rub myself on his hardness and feel the way it swells for me, the way my body instantly ignites for him.

  I place my hands on his shoulders and lean forward until our mouths are not even an inch apart. I can smell the woodsy smell of his cologne and feel the warmth of his breath against my lips. I can see the light dusting of golden freckles adorning the crest of his nose, and most importantly, I can sense our need for each other coating the air in the empty hallway.

  “You say that I’m blind, Ronan, but I’m not. I know perfectly who I am. It’s you who can’t see it, won’t believe it.”

  And that’s when I kiss him. It’s a hard kiss meant to punish him, to bring him to his knees, and it starts out like that. Our tongues clashing, fighting for power to render the other useless. But the moment Ronan lets go of my ass and cups my cheeks lovingly in his hands, I come undone. It’s he who punishes me with his tenderness.

  His passion.

  His beauty.

  His kisses full of light.

  He’s the one to break the kiss by pulling back slightly, desperation and need vibrating through his touch. “You feel that, Blaire? How can you deny that? This thing, this pull between us isn’t a temporary thing. It isn’t going anywhere, and you know it. You can tell lies to your head and maybe believe them, but you can’t lie to your heart, to what’s deep inside of you. It always knows the truth. Now, tell me to my face that you don’t care about me. That you really want me out of your life. I’ll be gone and I won’t ever bother you again.”

  I shake my head wordlessly but he doesn’t seem to care. “What are you so afraid of? Tell me.”

  I shake my head once more.

  “Tell me, Blaire.”

  Forcefully, I push his hands away as I try to swallow the tight knot that has formed in the back of my throat. Lies sit on my tongue ready to be fired at him, but the honesty shining in his eyes forbids me to deceive him. “You, okay? You! I’m scared shitless of what you make me feel, what you make me want.” My voice breaks.

  “Don’t be … don’t be afraid of me.”

  “Oh, Ronan. When will you learn?”

  “Never.”

  I touch my burning lips, feeling the ghost of his mouth upon them as we stare at each other. His words resonate deep within me, destroying my resolve with each second that passes by, but then I catch myself wanting to believe them. Like the Pied Piper of Hamelin and his song, his seductive words want to take me away to a place of no return, and I won’t let him. I won’t.

  “It doesn’t matter. Do you want to know something about me, Ronan?” I ask, pushing myself closer to him again.

  Ronan grips my hips painfully, his fingers leaving soft, red indentations there. I lean forward and kiss his neck before I whisper against his skin, “I fucked a man the entire night.” I kiss his Adam’s apple and feel it tremble under my lips. “And it wasn’t for love.” I kiss him behind his left ear, letting my tongue trace the soft skin there as I taste the saltiness of his sweat. “I can still feel him moving inside me … I can still taste his flavor on my tongue… so you think I’m a good person, huh?” I grab one of his hands, bringing it between my legs, and guiding his fingers with mine to touch me and rub me there. The warmth of his touch seeps through the lace of my underwear. “What if I told you that you could have me as many times as that man did if you could afford me?”

  Ronan pushes me away forcefully, our hands separating. “Enough, Blaire … enough.”

  I ignore him and keep going. I want to open his eyes and shatter all his illusions so he can finally see me for who I am.

  A monster.

  “I’m a gold digger, you know? I fuck for money.” I stare at him, rejoicing when I notice his taut jaw because it means I’m finally getting to him. “And frankly, it doesn’t look like you could ever pay my price. So, Ronan, let me ask you again. How much do you like me? How special do you think I am? Do you still think I’m blind? Because in my book, it looks like you’re the blind one.”

  There. I hope that shuts him up.

  I feel completely dead on the inside. And if I wasn’t before by my own doing, the way he’s looking at me in this moment finishes the job. Like a coward, I’d like to lower my gaze and not be an unwilling witness to his judgment, but I don’t think I can. There’s something magnificent, awe-inspiring, when you watch a man lose his way in anger … in hate. You can’t help but wish to be part of the wreckage left behind by his ire.

  Silence fills the space between us, stretching like a never-ending ocean. We’re standing in front of each other, our bodies close enough to touch, yet we’ve never been farther apart.

  “I take that back. I take everything back that I said earlier.” He eyes me up and down, disgust carried in each syllable he utters. “You’re not worth it.”

  My breath is shaky. My palms are sweaty. A tempest of tension, desire, fury, and pain roars inside me.

  “I’m glad you finally realize it,” I say as I unlock my apartment, walk inside and close the door behind me, shutting Ronan out of my life once and for all.

  After I strip naked, I stand in front of my mirror and take in my appearance. With the back of my hand, I remove the remaining ruby red lipstick from my bruised lips, smudging it across the left side of my face. My eyes sparkle with tears that won’t fall. Ronan’s words spin inside my head like a revolving door, paralyzing me. But at least he knows now what kind of person I am. He finally sees me the way I see myself.

  I continue to stare at my reflection as I ignore the soreness between my legs. I wasn’t born a monster, though my choices certainly have made me one. But I can’t stop myself. I can’t. Causing pain to others when I’m suffering soothes me.

  I wish I could cry, but nothing happens. I hate myself. I tell myself I'm worth it, but I don't believe it. The vicious cycle continues.

  Over …

  And over …

  And over …

  Lawrence

  AS I WAIT FOR MY DATE TO JOIN ME FOR DINNER, I think of
Blaire and chuckle. She’s a walking contradiction without a doubt, but maybe that’s part of her charm. A femme fatale with the eyes of an old soul and a playful smile that is sure to rob a man’s heart. This morning before I got out of bed, I spent a couple of minutes watching her sleep. I wanted to touch her again. I wanted to pull her close to me and smell her feminine perfume, maybe wake her up and fuck one more time, but somehow I knew that I shouldn’t. She isn’t mine. So I contented myself with staring at her like a lovesick puppy while she slept in my bed. Without an ounce of makeup on her face and her black hair spread across the pillow in wild abandon, she appeared so young and carefree. Innocent almost. But then my eyes drifted to her naturally red tinted lips. No innocent girl could suck a man off the way she did.

  Her memory alone makes my cock stir.

  But it’s not her body I crave; it’s her. I crave the way she makes me feel. She makes me forget. She has brought back laughter into my life after so many years without it, and like a starved man, I want more—I need more. And if I have to pay for each kiss, each touch, each smile of hers, so be it. I don’t care. At least she’s honest enough to admit that all she wants from me is my money.

  I chuckle because a slip of a girl with soulful blue eyes is turning me into a pathetic son of a bitch. I’m about to reach for my glass of wine when I hear my date speak.

  “Hi Laurie.”

  I place my napkin on the table, push the chair back and stand up.

  “When will you stop calling me that?” I ask, our eyes meeting.

  “Never, silly man.”

  She smiles as she leans forward and kisses my cheek. The moment her lips touch my skin, the same feelings that have haunted me and been my only companions for close to ten years return in full force.

  Sometimes I think that I’m finally free of her.

  But I know that my freedom is just an illusion.

  THERE’S SOMETHING TO BE SAID ABOUT BEING LAWRENCE’S SHINY FUCK TOY AND GETTING PAID TO BE ONE. LAWRENCE DOESN’T FUCK OR SCREW.