by Ally Sky
Is that what he thinks he is? Just some random guy? He’s the guy I want, and it matters a lot what he thinks about me.
“I like being thin,” I whisper my terrible confession. “That’s a big part of the problem.”
And I want him to love me.
“You really need help.” He strokes my hair and I close my eyes. “And now you need to go,” he sighs, and I think I detect a slight note of disappointment in his voice. But it doesn’t matter anymore. My time is up.
I open my eyes and see him staring at me, his expression unfathomable. I sit up and he strokes my back. He sits behind me, kisses my neck, pulls my hair aside, and breathes in deeply.
“If you carry on like this I won’t be able to leave.” My voice shakes and the choking in my throat intensifies. Why is he making me leave? Why is he inhaling me and then telling me to leave?
He lies down on his side, staring at me in silence as I get up and start getting dressed. A terrible emptiness fills me. I should be happy and fulfilled. Several moments ago I was in his arms and he was inside me. But I have to go. He doesn’t want me to stay. He doesn’t want to go to sleep and wake up by my side.
I get dressed. Then, I look at the man lying on his bed, staring at me.
“Good night,” I mumble in frustration.
“Good night, beautiful,” he replies, bright-eyed.
I leave his room and head toward the front door, wondering if he’ll ever let me come back to him.
Wednesday
June 6th 2012
And Then He Was Inside me…
After all the anger and the tears, after all the weeping on the floor, after all the words on the computer screen, he was inside me. A hesitant knock on the door, greedy kisses, and one extremely soft bed. My man couldn’t resist me, didn’t want to. He didn’t even tell me to leave, at least not at the beginning…
He carried me to the bedroom and took everything I had wanted so badly to give him. Deep and hard, panting hard and heavy, he came inside me loudly. Afterwards, in the shower, his confident hands and the warm water were all over me, and he brought me to a climax, crying out and falling apart completely. He took it all: my body, my free will, and my heart, which I left in his bed tonight, a moment after he told me it was time for me to leave. My body and desire for him didn’t sway him. He was clear and determined; he can give me just one thing and I’ll take it. I’ll take any scrap of affection he’ll give me, if only just to be with him again—if he still wants me. He’s still not mine, certainly not like I’m his—captivated and addicted, just wanting more, wanting more of him, as much as he’s prepared to give. That’s all I can hope for…
Lonely in my bed and smelling of him.
Talula
I wake up to another cold London morning, sleep-deprived again.
Laying in bed, I'm going through it all in my mind: the conversation at the restaurant, the tears, Ben’s bed, his body and mine succumbing to each other. I miss him already and I can’t do anything about it. I can’t chase him, can’t call, can’t send messages.
I’m not his girlfriend. Last night he couldn’t resist me, but I don’t know what he’s thinking this morning.
What if he’s regretting it? The thought is too terrible.
I get out of bed, knowing that a day of wandering around the city awaits me. After a quick shower, I sit on the patio, drinking my coffee and smoking my morning cigarette. I’m in a weird mood and I don’t like it. I don’t like that my mood depends on this guy and his desires. The thought makes me cringe. I open my blog and read the flow of replies.
A response from Hans Christian Anderson: “It doesn’t matter if you were born in a duck yard, so long as you were hatched from a swan’s egg.” You’re a swan, and if he can’t see that, he’s blind and I offer him my condolences. While you fight and make an effort (only to end the night in your bed alone, tossing and turning from side to side), he probably fell asleep ages ago…
So stop. Somewhere, a perfect swan is waiting just for you, not a hunter with a rifle, watching you swimming in the lake and waiting for the right time to pull the trigger and shoot a deadly bullet at you. And if he doesn’t get just how perfect you are, maybe you should remind him. Jealousy never killed anyone, just stirred the pot a bit, which doesn’t seem to be particularly tasty right now.
Is that what I should do? Make him jealous? He doesn’t look like the jealous type, but I may be wrong. Maybe if he saw me with someone else, especially after last night, he’d realize that he actually wants me. I need to think about it.
A response from Rhonda Jones: He’s just not into you!!!
He’s just not into me? He seemed very into me yesterday. Anyway, what is he into—seeing me satisfied? Maybe it’s just a matter of ego. Maybe he just wanted to tell himself he could do what no one had managed before him. I said no and they let it go…with a sigh of relief. They didn’t need to make an effort. I just took care of myself. But now I want more. It’s different when his hands touch me there, like that, making me lose control and fall apart into a thousand pieces.
Is he really not into me? Then I’ll make sure is. Maybe making him jealous isn’t such a bad idea.
By noon, I’m sitting in a café, after a visit to a gallery Sarah requested I see.
The London sun is wonderful at this hour of the day. I sit in the shade under one of the umbrellas outside, drinking a large cup of coffee and smoking a cigarette.
I take my laptop out of my bag. I have to see him, even if that means making up stupid excuses. I surf the Internet and do a little research. I have an idea and, if it works, it will be totally incredible. I can’t stop smiling when I think about it.
“May I steal a cigarette?” I hear a pleasant voice asking, and I look up from my laptop to find a young guy smiling at me.
I check him out quickly. His short, black hair immediately reminds me of Danny, making me smile again. He has brown eyes and he’s dressed in a gorgeously tailored suit, which reminds me of my man. He’s good-looking. Ha! Who am I kidding? The guy is hot. If I wasn’t totally involved elsewhere right now, I most probably would look at him differently. But my heart is already taken. This guy can be gorgeous until there’s no tomorrow, I’m just not interested.
“Sure,” I smile.
“Can I hide from the sun with you for a few minutes?” he asks politely, and I point to an empty chair inviting him to keep me company. I like company, even when it’s unexpected.
“So what are you hiding from here?” He puts his coffee on the table and lights himself a cigarette.
“Life,” I giggle.
“Is it so bad?” He laughs and inhales deeply.
“I’m kidding. I’m just sitting in the sun and plotting some juicy schemes.” The smile on my face gets ridiculously wider.
“It sounds intriguing. What are you plotting?” he asks, grinning at me.
“To get my man. I mean, he’s still not mine, but he soon will be.”
“Ah,” he continues smiling. “How’s that working out for you?”
“Meh…I’m not too sure. But I still have lots of good ideas.” And if I don’t, my readers definitely do.
“He isn’t interested?” He inhales again and seems amused by the conversation he’s gotten involved in.
“It’s complicated. At least, he’s making it complicated.”
“We usually do. Complicate simple situations, I mean.”
“He’s my brother’s best friend and he’s also his boss. And mine,” I complain.
“It is complicated. I understand. He doesn’t want any hassle.”
“You never told me your name.” I change the subject, staring at the handsome man in front of me.
“Tom. And yours?”
“Talia.”
“So, Talia, what did you have in mind? How are you going to get him?” He reverts back to the topic.
“I have an idea I’m working on. If it doesn’t work, I plan on checking just how jealous I can make him,” I say and laugh
.
“Is he the jealous type?”
“I don’t think so, at least not the jealous, violent type. I’m more inclined to think it would just drive him crazy.”
“And what’s your plan?” He takes a sip of his coffee and looks at me with his nice brown eyes.
“When the right moment comes, or when I create it, I’ll give him a taste of my ability to flirt with others.” I wink at him.
“Not bad. If he likes you, he won’t like that.”
“I know. That’s what I’m hoping for.” I grin.
“You said you have another idea.”
Well, this idea is completely unrealistic. And it probably won’t work. But I don’t mind trying it and maybe Tom has arrived at just the right time.
“Yes, can I be rude and ask you for a favor?” I blush self-consciously.
“As long as you don’t get me into any trouble,” he laughs.
“I don’t think so. Can I borrow your phone? His secretary knows my number.”
No way this will work!
“Sure.” He takes his phone out of his pocket.
“Thanks.” I dial the office. Sharon won’t recognize the number, and I’m new enough for her not to recognize my voice.
“Storm Buildings,” Sharon’s voice comes from the other side of the phone. “How may I help you?”
“Hello, this is Dana Cool, from John Ceiling’s Company. Mr. Ceiling would like to arrange a meeting with Mr. Storm regarding business cooperation.” My heart is pounding and I’m trying to steady my voice.
“One moment, please.” Sharon puts me on hold. She’s probably checking if Ben is available. Now all I need is for my heart to stop pounding like a sledgehammer!
“Miss Cool, Mr. Storm is available tomorrow at five.”
“Wonderful. Mr. Ceiling would love to meet him for a drink at the Archangel Bar in Kensington.” I try not to sound too stunned at how easily the conversation went. I can’t believe it.
“Have a nice day,” Sharon ends the conversation.
“You too.” I hang up and give the phone back to the guy sitting opposite me who looks amused and is speechless.
“And that’s how it’s done.” I chuckle.
“I wouldn’t want to get into your bad books.” He grins. “Any more ideas?”
“I’ve had some ideas in the past few days.” I smile, thinking of my blog. “Some of them are too out there, at least for now. But who knows what I’ll be forced to do in the future.”
“You’re lovely,” he says as he stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray. “Talia, it was an unexpected pleasure sitting here and having coffee with you. Thank you for the cigarette.” He gets up from his chair and straightens his tall, lean body.
“Listen,” he catches me by surprise, “this is my business card. If you’re looking for some more good ideas, I may have some.” He takes a business card out of his wallet and I check it out. Tom Wallace, Investment Advisor, Lloyds Bank. Okay. The man is impressive. I put his card in my purse and say goodbye with a smile.
I take another puff of my cigarette and dial Danny.
“Hi,” he answers, sounding busy. “What’s going on?”
“Everything’s fine. About supper tonight—maybe we’ll eat out?” I’m trying to work on an idea that popped into my head during the conversation. Plotting and scheming are quite challenging. I may just write a book about it one day.
“Sounds good, I’ll tell John and we’ll stop at the pub on the way home. Will you meet us there?”
What good is it to me if he ate with John? I needed Ben at the pub.
“Yes, I’ll speak to you later,” I reply, hoping Ben will decide to join them.
I make my way home on the tube. I still have time to catch up on some sleep.
The alarm on my phone startles me awake. Five o’clock already? I feel as though I’ve just closed my eyes. I don’t feel so well, and that certainly isn’t like me. Maybe I’ll grab a little something to eat before going out. If all goes according to plan, I’ll be drinking tonight, but I don’t want to get drunk and ruin things for myself. Drinking on an empty stomach is the worst thing I can do. I go into the kitchen and make myself a toast with jam. A tiny bit of sugar won’t do me any harm. I don’t want any unnecessary dizziness.
Then I go to shower. Danny finishes work at six, which means I still have some time before finding out if I’m in luck, or if I’m going to spend a disappointing evening in the pub, dreaming of green eyes and soft lips kissing me. If my plan works, then those green eyes will be surprised, as they deserve to be. And in any case I have a backup plan tomorrow evening at the bar.
John Ceiling. I never knew it would be so simple to set up a meeting with Ben.
I wash my hair and lather myself leisurely, letting the warm water flow over my body, washing away all the soap.
This damn longing! I just saw him yesterday!
I wrap myself in a towel, dry my hair, and style it in front of the mirror, using styling cream for my brown curls. I go into my room and open my closet. If there’s any chance this evening will go as expected, I need to wear something I like, something that will make me feel good. I take out a pair of black skinny jeans, a tight black blouse and my new burgundy-colored high heels—another opportunity to wear them. I really hope the evening will go as planned, unlike yesterday at the restaurant. Although the evening did end rather unexpectedly…
I slap on some makeup and grab my bag. It’s quarter to six and I’m ready to leave the house.
I enter the crowded pub and see Danny and John sitting in the corner on the dark sofa with a group of people. But I have eyes only for my man. If he’s here, well then, we’ll see how this evening will end…
And then I see him—gleaming green eyes staring at me unsmilingly. I gulp.
What is he thinking? Does he plan for something to happen between us after yesterday? I walk toward the group with confident strides, trying to smile my most charming smile. Damn him. Didn’t we say something about being happy and cheerful regardless of him?
“Hi! What’s up?” Danny asks and makes room for me next to him on the sofa. I sit opposite Ben, who stares at me with an inscrutable expression.
“Everything’s great. I had an excellent day at work. I think…” I smile widely. Very good. Smile. Men like women who smile.
“What are you drinking?” John pours himself a large glass of beer from the jug on the table.
“Nothing, thanks. I’m not sure yet.” I steal a quick glance at Ben. There are too many people here for me to get lost in his eyes. I check him out, sitting elegantly, dressed in a perfect, dark suit. He looks so good in his suits. And he looks even better not wearing a thing. The thought makes me blush.
The corner of his mouth lifts in a slight smile, the same mouth that kissed me yesterday so passionately. My heart jumps and I try to relax. It’s just a smile. It doesn’t mean a thing.
“I’m dying for a cigarette,” I excuse myself and get up from the sofa. I need to go outside to make a phone call. An interesting idea came from my blog, and maybe something can still come out of it.
“I’ll join you,” John surprises me. He’s going to ruin my plans!
Damn!
I turn around and walk toward the door. These brilliant heels make me walk differently, seductively, and I wonder if he’s staring.
“So, you had a good day at work?” John lights my cigarette.
“Yes.” I nod.
Maybe it’s not such a bad idea, John coming outside with me. Maybe I can still manage to do something with it.
I’m becoming really good at this, or really bad. Depends on one’s point of view.
“What did you do?” he asks me curiously.
“I visited one of the galleries,” I reply, “and I met someone.”
John joins a game he doesn’t even know I’m playing.
Talia, this is totally inappropriate.
“You met someone?” He raises an eyebrow.
“Yes.”
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“The guy from yesterday?” he asks with interest.
The guy from yesterday? He must be thinking of the dress I wore to Hawksmoor! No, definitely not the guy from yesterday, but what do I care if that’s what he thinks.
“Yes, I met him for coffee,” I lie. I don’t like lying to John. He’s awesome and he treats me like he’s my big brother, but I’m getting carried away in the moment and now it’s too late to say anything else. My behavior in the past few days has been totally atrocious: cancelling Ben’s meeting, pretending to be someone I’m not, sleeping with Danny’s best friend. I’m starting to overdo it. But right now, all I want are Ben’s arms around me, caressing me again.
“Who’s the guy?” John asks, inhaling his cigarette, curious to hear more.
“His name is Tom. He’s an investment advisor at Lloyds Bank,” I continue with the lie. Well, it’s not a complete lie. I really did have coffee with Tom.
“I’d be happy to meet him.”
“Maybe you will. I was just going to call him.”
“Great.” He puts out his cigarette. “Finish your conversation and then come inside.”
“Okay,” I answer, and he goes back inside. I take out my purse, pull out Tom Wallace’s business card, and dial.
Talia, are you sure you want to do this?
“Hi, Tom?” I can feel the pressure intensifying. Don’t chicken out now!
“Yes?” Obviously he doesn’t recognize my voice.
“It’s Talia, from the coffee shop this morning,” I say, trying not to stutter.
“Hi!” He sounds enthusiastic. “How are you?”
Why is he so enthusiastic? Maybe I shouldn’t have called him. Oh well, what difference does it make now?
“Great. You said I could call.”
“I’m glad you did. How’s it going with the guy?” He sounds mildly amused.
“Funny you should ask,” I reply and take a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “Do you feel like having some fun?”
