Desire_Her Two Rivals

by Ally Miller

  After she hung up the phone, she walked over to the couch and let her head slump into her hands, clueless about what her next move would be. But she was sure about one thing: Trent Daniels was the first-class asshole!

  After about an hour of non-stop texting and calling, Jeffrey finally decided to get in touch with her. He was in a loud place, probably a bar. She could barely understand what he was saying. But basically, he said he was really sorry for having screwed up and he was going to make it up to her. All she could think about was what she would have done if he were there in the room with her. She felt like strangling him. She couldn’t believe that he had ruined their anniversary. And on top of that, he had given her such a lame excuse. She had a very strong feeling that he was lying.

  But she didn’t know what to do. If she accused him of cheating he would probably act very defensive, whether he was guilty or not. She felt so sick to her stomach. All she wanted to do was lie on the floor crying. Instead of doing that, she sent him a stream of angry texts telling him how much of a jerk he was. And how he wouldn’t be getting sex from her for a long time. She meant all those things when she said them. And then she had the strong urge to throw her phone across the room and watch it smash into little pieces. She had never felt so insulted by someone She cared about.

  She poured herself a glass of white wine and sat down on the couch. She couldn’t even bring herself to turn on the TV. She just sat there staring at the blank screen. What was her life coming to? Why had she decided to come to New York City in the first place? Maybe she would have been better off staying out west. She felt tears beginning to well up in her eyes. She didn’t want to be on her couch, crying and feeling sorry for herself. But she really had no idea what else she was supposed to do in this sort of situation. She sent off a few texts to her friends to let them know what this asshole had put her through. But she figured that they had their own Friday night problems because they didn’t seem like they were in any hurry to respond to me.

  She took her glass of wine over to the window and sat down on the edge. The scene down on the street below was so vibrant and alive. It seemed silly to stay in her apartment on a night like this. The loud sound of a motorcycle almost made her drop her drink and it definitely snapped her back to the present moment. The bike came to a stop at a traffic light right in front of her window. The engine made a few loud sounds, thunderous sounds that made her whole body shake. She began to wonder what it must have felt like to ride around on that thing all day. And suddenly my mind began to wander again and she thought about all of the things that might have been missing in my life. Yes, she had this wonderful apartment in one of the hippest neighborhoods in one of the hippest cities, but she still felt like something was missing. And after being stood up by Jeffrey, she felt even stronger about it.

  She was hoping that the guy on the bike would turn and look at me. She wanted to stare at his face, gaze into his eyes. What was his life like? How would her life be different if she went on the run with him? But he didn’t turn and look at her. When the light turned green, he zoomed off.

  She drank a few glasses of wine and walked around the apartment listening to sad love songs. She was actually starting to feel better, slowly putting the disappointment of the night behind her. But then she heard a key opening the front door and all of the bitterness and anger came flooding back to her. It was Jeffrey. Two hours after their dinner reservation this asshole decides to come home.

  She crossed her arms against her chest and kept her eyes locked on the door. When he opened it, he had a big, stupid grin on his face. That was his “I fucked up please don’t hit me Mommy” face. It made her absolutely sick. She wanted to throw her phone at him. But somehow she managed to contain herself.

  His tie was undone and the top three buttons on his shirt were unbuttoned. He had clearly been drinking. He walked towards her with that same stupid grin on his face and his arms held out wide. He really thought that he was going to be able to sweet talk his way out of this. There was no way that was going to happen.

  He wrapped his arms around her in the middle of the apartment and she just stood there with her arms crossed against her chest. Not only had he been drinking whiskey and beer but he had also been smoking. He reeked of cigarette smoke. That pissed her off even more. He knew how much she hated cigarette smoke. And he had promised her months ago that he had quit forever. She wondered what other things he was doing behind her back.

  “C’mon baby, what’s wrong,” he said. She was doing her best to keep from screaming. She didn’t want to make a scene. The walls in their apartment building were notoriously thin. If she raised her voice, everyone was sure to hear it. She didn’t want to end the night with the police beating on the door. Things were already bad enough.

  She couldn’t keep quiet any longer. She sighed and pushed him away from her.

  “You know exactly what’s wrong,” she said. “You really fucked up this time.”

  That knocked the smile off his face. He lowered his eyes and shook his head.

  “I know baby, I’m really sorry. It’s just that things have been really stressful at work, and she needed a release.”

  “It was our anniversary!” she screamed.

  He backed up. It was beginning to dawn on him just how pissed she was.

  Chapter 6

  The next day Julie woke up, certain that a new chapter in her life was beginning. There was no way that she was going to be able to deal with this relationship anymore. She had put up with enough. He had always been a screw-up, somewhat unreliable, capable of doing something crazy at precisely the wrong moments. But despite his flaws, he had always been caring and sincere, especially when she so desperately needed his emotional support. But now it seemed like even that one perk of the relationship had disappeared. He was too deep in his own personal hell, wrestling with demons that kept grasping at his ankles. For so long, she had tried to play the roles of girlfriend, mother and social worker. But she was tired of that. It would lead to nothing but misery and disappointment. She had plan—big ones, dreams—ambitious ones. She needed a man who had that same sort of drive and self-belief. Jeffrey would never be that man. That was more clear than ever. But where would she go? What would become of her career? Her love life?

  She was dreading the rest of the day. She feared that the collapse of this highly anticipated wedding might lead to her being fired. And how could she complain? She had failed right at the moment when she was on the cusp of the biggest wedding in the company's history, right on the brink of making a national, if not international, name for herself. News of this wedding would've traveled around the world. It would've been on screens all over the globe and so would her name and her picture.

  It would have been an accomplishment that no one could ever take away from her. But before she had been able to get her hands around it, to taste from that cup of success, it had been snatched from her. She wandered around the city in a daze, her thoughts a million miles away. She was tired of the metropolis. Maybe all she needed was a location change. Maybe move back out West. Fewer people, more space. Lower rent. Everything would be cheaper out there. She wouldn't have to hustle and grind, scrape and save every last penny. She would be able to live a freer life.

  Texas, Arizona, Colorado. Those great Western states, seemed more beautiful, more alluring than ever. And suddenly the gray buildings, the people rushing back and forth, to and fro, pay no attention to each other in the city, horns honking, sirens sounding, the smog rising into the air, it all felt so unappealing. So disgusting. What a waste of life what a waste of time.

  Once she got tired of walking around, she sat down in Central Park and let her head slump in her hands. After about 20 minutes of sitting, daydreaming, mind scrambled and scattered, her phone began ringing. Her eyes popped wide open and her body grew rigid. When she checked the name on the screen, she was slightly surprised. She arched an eyebrow, tilted her head to the side.

  Trent. The husband. The one that sh
e had been sending the expense list to. On second thought, maybe she shouldn't have done that. Maybe she shouldn't have let him know how much money his fame hungry, attention whoring wife was spending on the wedding, taking them tens of thousands of dollars over budget. If she was a less honest person and more of a cutthroat, she would've withheld those numbers. What was it to him? He was an NFL quarterback on the verge of stardom. Money rolled in for him—whether it was from his football contract or endorsement deals. A few extra hundred thousand for his wedding shouldn’t have been a big deal. Could that have been the reason that he’d broken off the marriage?

  She would have to figure that out later. Right now she wondered why he was calling. The phone had already rung three times. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then raised the phone to her ear.

  Trent said hello and thanked her for all the work that she had done on the wedding. He apologized profusely for having to call it off and said that that he would try to make it up to her in any way that he could.

  She smirked and shook her head. Make it up to her? How the hell was he going to do that? Her life was in shambles. Was he going to put it back together for her?

  He wanted to meet later that night for coffee.

  “Are you available?” he asked.

  She took the phone away from her ear and rolled her eyes. Was she available? Yes, unfortunately, she was very available.

  While she hesitated before answering, Trent continued to apologize.

  “I’d just really want to clear the air. I hate having bad blood with anyone who's tried to help me.”

  It sounded convincing and sincere enough. But she hesitated, the phone pressed to her ear, her heart beating faster and faster in her chest. His deep masculine voice touched something deep within her, tickled her, made her tingle somewhere special. She closed her eyes and sighed. She pictured his full lips, blonde hair, and green eyes. They had only seen each other a few times. But even during those brief encounters, she had sensed the intense sexual energy emanating from her. It wasn’t hard to understand why so many women ran after him. So why had he chosen a woman who seemed like she wouldn’t be loyal to anybody for more than about ten minutes?

  Alone with him in a coffee shop? That might have been just what she needed to forget about Jeffrey. Yes, she would forget all about him. She could already see Trent taking her in his arms, lifting her up, cupping her chin, their lips coming together.

  Chapter 7

  Apologizing and admitting that he had made a mistake was something that had never come easily to Trent. He was a stubborn son of a bitch. Just like his daddy. That stubbornness had helped him overcome obstacles throughout his football career. Whenever people told him that he couldn't do something—whether it was throwing the deep ball, standing in the pocket and take the contact, or leading his team to the playoffs, he used their words as fuel that motivated him to practice harder, to train more intensely. That obsessive commitment had all paid off in the end. He was quickly rising the charts as one of the future stars of the league. He wasn't quite on the Tom Brady, Aaron Rogers level, but he knew that in a couple years he would be there, rubbing shoulders with those guys, looking them straight in the eye.

  Since he was in the middle of the off-season, he had no proper outlet for his competitive and aggressive spirit. That meant he spent most of his time walking around with his nerves on edge. The stress of the upcoming wedding had only made him even more agitated. Now that it had been called off, he hoped that he be able to relax. But he had another problem. So much sexual energy bubbled within him. It had been so long since he'd had a release. He didn't think he would be able to hold it in much longer.

  As he walked the New York streets, he felt an intense connection between himself and the women. He could feel their eyes undressing him, fantasizing, dreaming, wishing. He had the urge to ravish a woman, to penetrate her body and should with his large member, making her body quiver and shake and drip with satisfaction. That’s what he so desperately needed. Sexual communion with a woman.

  He didn’t know where exactly he would find out. Yet judging from the hungry eyes of the New York women, he didn’t think it would end up being too hard. Before he did that, he knew that he had to take care of something else.

  He wouldn’t be able to relax until he apologized to the wedding planner. It wasn't her fault that his ex-fiancee was a gold digging bitch who wanted to go hundreds of thousand dollars over their budget. He realized that the wedding planner could've easily kept that information hidden from him, only to spring the charges on him at the last minute when it would be too late to do anything about it.

  She could have easily done that. But she didn’t. She had been true to her word and had kept informed of all the charges that were being rung up.

  Her honesty had probably saved him about $300,000. He shook his head as he thought of that sum. Sure, he made good money. But that didn’t mean that he liked throwing it around. The only thing that he ever really splurged on were his bikes. They were more than just vehicles to him. When he rode, he felt at home and at peace, no matter where he was, whether in the city, desert, country, or mountains. He rode his bikes everywhere.

  But he was beginning to feel a certain emptiness on his long journeys. Maybe that's why he'd wanted to get married, to have a woman to ride on the back of his hog, to wrap her arms around him as her hair blew in the wind. He wanted something like that—a Bonnie and Clyde type of relationship. Some true American romance. But maybe he had just been fooling himself. Pamela was not that type of woman. She had never been on one of his bikes, except for that one time when she fell off after a few minutes.

  It wasn't her thing at all. If he had wanted to do a cross-country trip, she would've refused to ride with him, choosing instead to fly to the other side of the country and met up with him. What type of marriage would that have been? A shame. A foolish enterprise that would have ended in disappointment for both of them.

  So what type of woman would be willing to take that cross-country trip with him? It would have to be a woman who yearned for adventure. A woman tired of her life, frustrated, maybe even depressed. He would lift her from those doldrums. They would both renew each other spirits.

  But maybe he was getting ahead of himself, filling his head with unrealistic fantasies. Women weren't really into those things, were they? Didn’t they all just want to settle down, especially ones who were attracted to his fame and money? It seemed to him like that was all most of them wanted: celebrity status, a life of luxury and comfort.

  He needed to find someone who wanted a deeper relationship: A best friend, lover relationship; a two-partners in crime relationship. Where would he find such a woman? He had no idea.

  He felt a heaviness in his spirit and emptiness in his stomach. This wasn't the way his life was supposed to turn out. He was tall, handsome, blonde, green eyed, NFL quarterback. The world was supposed to lay down at his feet. Everything he wanted was supposed to be his. He clenched his fists and grit his teeth. Sexual energy roiled inside of him.

  Once he had apologized to the wedding planner, would be able to get that out of his mind. And then he would hit the town—bars, clubs, lounges. And if none of that satisfied him, he would hire an escort, stay in a Manhattan hotel for a few days, rolling around in the bed sheets, drinking champagne, ordering room service. Anything to distract him and lighten his spirit.

  Chapter 8

  Julie checked her watch, then stirred her mocha coffee. The sidewalks were crowding with people getting off of work and rushing home. Where was he? He was one who had called her. This hot, soon-to-be superstar quarterback, who was ten minutes late, had wanted to meet, in order to apologize for ruining the best opportunity of her career.

  Julie had been looking forward to talking with him, staring into those gorgeous green eyes, thinking about all the naughty things they could do together. But he hadn't even had the decency to show up. Yet another disappointment in her life! She couldn't remember experiencing a worse week
. It was supposed to be her fifth anniversary with her boyfriend. And she was supposed to make a huge commission on this much-anticipated the celebrity wedding. But within 48 hours, everything had fallen apart. Everything she had worked and dreamed about—career success, love, family. It all seemed within her grasp, just inches away. She would have it all. She would be a career woman but she would also have a husband and eventually children. And then maybe she would move out to the suburbs and lead a traditional and conventional life. That's all she wanted. Or at least that's what she had told herself. But maybe she wasn't being honest. Maybe deep down she hungered for a different kind of life, a life of adventure and travel. But who was she going to do that with? Now that Jeffrey was out of her life, she was alone. The thought of going back on the dating scene made her curse with disgust. Those awkward first encounters. First dates. Always the same stupid questions, the same stupid stories. Did she really want to go through that again? It had been more than five years since she had gone on a date with a man besides Jeffrey. She had very little desire to return to the lion’s den of the New York City dating scene.

  She felt a hand on her shoulder. Her body grew rigid, she looked up.

  “Sorry, I'm late. Go stuck in traffic.” Trent brushed a tangle of blonde hair out of his face and sat down. I'm really sorry it's just running around traffic was crazy.

  Julie stared at the blonde haired hunk in silence. He'd come out of nowhere. His touch had sent electric shocks through her body, which were still reverberating, moving down through her, dampening her panties, making her flesh tingle. Her eyes fixed on his. She blinked several times, then swallowed hard.

  “No worries,” she said, lowering her head and shaking it from side to side.

  “What a time to be in NYC,” he said. Have you lived here for a long time?