by Auden Dar
He’s going to fuck her tomorrow night remains on repeat in my head.
Once we return to the house, we amble to our respective rooms, walking only a few inches apart and remaining silent. It’s not until we’re standing in front of my bedroom that we turn to each other and say good night. “I had a wonderful time tonight.” Until the bitch scared me. “Thank you.” I bend down and pet Mugpie as he stands there drooling. There is no hesitation. There is no rush. It’s a simple formality of ending a simple evening that became awkward.
Alone in the vast guestroom, I change out of my clothes, brush my teeth and lie in bed. Yet sleep eludes me for hours.
Beckoning me is the massive en-suite guest bathroom. The oval-shaped Japanese tub is large and inviting. A warm bath should relieve some tension. I turn on the overhead sound system, selecting Sade. Surveying my surroundings, the bathroom is stocked with everything−candles, bath oil, bath gels, warm fluffy towels, and a bath pillow. Once the vanilla-scented candles are lit, I pour drops of lavender oil into the massive tub. I slowly get in, and as soon as I am seated, tonight’s tension fades away. Lying here for what seems like hours, I enjoy the serenity and seclusion. The world is quiet, and the only sound heard is the heart-wrenching pain of Sade’s “Is It A Crime.” Veiled by bubbles, I raise and touch my legs, one by one, lathering my body with more bath gel. It’s impossible not to imagine Julian. Good God, that man is gorgeous. Once both feet are planted on the tub, I slowly spread my thighs apart.
My right hand slowly makes its way to my bare sexual mound. Anxiety prevents me from inserting my fingers. There’s always the fear of getting caught. Yet the knowledge that only two inches of wall space separate me from the man I desire, thrills me. The second I walked through the bedroom doors, I couldn’t deny how aroused he made me. What is wrong with me? Even though he arranged to fuck another woman tomorrow night, I still want him. I am overwrought with unfamiliar emotions by his confession. I have never felt so jealous, inflamed, turned on and confused all at once.
All I want to do is come. I want to come with him inside me. I want to ride his face and come all over his tongue, lips and chin as I take him deep in the back of my throat.
Pinching my aching nipples, I grab both swollen breasts and knead them. I imagine Julian’s strong, large hands caressing them. The ache between my legs is more pronounced. The pain so deep, it hurts. It’s his perfect full lips I want kissing my breasts slowly, one by one. My tender nipples long to feel his tongue licking. His wet mouth sucking and biting. I close my eyes and I see him moving farther down as his plump lips make their way to my aching sex. I push my head back against the bath pillow. Unable to stop myself, my fingers begin to caress my slickened folds. I’ve been wet for him for hours. I dip my fingers and can’t believe how soaked I am. I gasp, and my breathing becomes more rapid. Fuck fear. I pull in and out as my thumb touches my clit by accident. The sheer force gives me the courage to overcome my shyness.
I want it.
No, I fucking desperately want it.
I need it.
Oh, God, please … please let me come.
The very thought of Julian lifting my ass … licking me … fucking me … coming inside me allows me to surrender. I begin to caress my neglected and very sensitive clit. At first, gently rubbing in circles and then becoming relentless …
Oh, God … oh … oh … oh God.
Trepidation prevents my eyes from opening. Fear that opening them will disrupt my much-needed orgasm. With one leg now raised on the edge of the tub, I move my body down farther, immersing myself. It’s his deep voice urging me to come for him that I hear. Baby, come for me. Come hard for me. I imagine his dark hair between my thighs. Oh, God, I want to grind myself against his face. His now ink blue eyes stare directly at me, forcing me to let go. I’m coming so hard for you. My raised leg falls. My toes curl. My entire body trembles violently. With my breathing heavy and my heart racing, it takes everything in me not to cry out his name. My back arches as I reach an orgasm so foreign to me, it leaves me breathless.
My heartbeat resumes its natural state, allowing me to finally open my water-filled eyes. I slowly exhale. Scanning my surroundings, I am reminded of where I am. Just the thought of Julian Caine delivered the most intense orgasm I have ever experienced. And then I am confronted with the truth. This is more than a fleeting attraction.
Twenty
It’s Saturday morning. A bunch of rowdy toddlers decided to throw a party in my head. All I hear are pots and pans banging. My throbbing head continues to pound, and my aching body can barely move. I don’t recall drinking too much wine. Thank God the curtains are drawn, and the room is pitch black. The memory of my ‘alone time’ hits me. I know what I did last night, and the thought embarrasses me.
Will Julian know the image of him got me off a few hours ago?
I fan myself because just the recollection of last night’s session warms my body. I’m taking deep breaths when a knock on the door startles me. What time is it?
To my right is a vintage clock and it reads 10:48 a.m. It’s later than I thought.
“Come in,” I answer, while remaining in the comforts of the huge king-size bed, covered in layers and layers of beddings when the door slowly opens.
Julian peeks in. “Sleepyhead, I thought I would let you sleep in. However, the day is going to pass you by if you don’t get up.”
My body remains still. I slowly pull up the white down duvet over my face−desperately trying to avoid his gaze. Will it show on my face that I masturbated to dirty thoughts of him? Sensing my need to cover myself, he chuckles. “Come on, Lina. No need to hide. It’s just me.”
Well, if you knew what I did last night, you’d want me to hide as well.
Carnal thoughts replace the banging in my head.
Umm … I glance up, and unexpected images from last night flit through my head. My cheeks redden, and my mouth moistens. His luscious lips on my wet folds. His big hands lifting my ass as his tongue enters me. His deep voice urging me to come for him. I close my eyes and shake my head, praying the salacious visions would disappear. When I open them, I am greeted with a sight that could have me climax again just from staring at him. Julian’s hair is still wet from his shower, his gray Coldplay t-shirt which is a bit snug around the chest hugs his muscles and his dark jeans are hung low, revealing a deep V around the abdomen that I imagine tracing with my lips.
Oh, my God.
I want to touch him.
I want to kiss him.
I want to lick him.
I want to taste him.
My mouth waters like a dam that just broke and I can barely form a sentence. I must be getting my period early because I am just too damn horny. With reluctance, I finally pull the covers off and rise out of bed as Julian continues to stare. It takes a few seconds to finally realize that I am only wearing a t-shirt and pajama shorts. Rather than turn his head away, he continues to watch my every movement. I try to remain unaffected and head toward the mirror that hangs above the dresser.
Why, God, why?
Now I know why he’s staring. My light brown hair looks like a bird’s nest, and my green eyes are covered in smeared mascara. Although I had taken a luxurious and memorable bath last night, in my post orgasm state, I forgot to take off my makeup. A woman resembling a raccoon stares back at me. At least I remembered to brush my teeth.
As if he could sense my embarrassment, he smiles before suggesting, “I hope you’re hungry. I thought we could go to Sears for breakfast. Do Swedish pancakes sound good to you?”
Now, this is the biggest turn-on−a gorgeous, thoughtful man offering to take me out for Swedish pancakes.
Thank goodness he doesn’t say anything about my appearance or the awkwardness between us before we said good night. “Oh, my God, yes.” My eyes light up. “I would love that. I just need to clean up.” I point at my raccoon eyes and nest hair. “Just give me fifteen minutes.”
“That’s it? Fifteen minutes? I thou
ght women needed at least an hour to get ready. Take your time.” Glancing at his watch, he corrects himself. “Actually, fifteen minutes sounds good. I’m famished, and I know you must be too.” He turns around and walks out the door.
What does he mean by that? Do I look that bad that I actually need an hour to get ready? Well, I’ll definitely be done in fifteen minutes. After a quick shower, I put my wet hair in a bun and slip on a short heather gray jersey dress, black tights, and black Chuck Taylors. As I amble down the stairs, it’s evident Julian and Marcel are having a heated argument. I am unable to make everything out, but as I approach the living room, I hear, “She’s not ready. She can’t know just yet. Father, I need more time.” Conversation ceases once I enter the room, and both men turn to face me. Marcel is surprisingly stiff. As I make my way toward him, his composure relaxes a little, and a soft smile greets me.
“Good morning, Evangelina.” He plants a soft kiss on my cheek.
I assess the man before me, grateful that I am here with him. “Happy Birthday! Are you looking forward to your celebration tonight?”
Taking both of my hands, Marcel leans closer. “Not really. I haven’t had a party in years. But having you here with us is the best gift I could have asked for.” He raises my hands to meet his lips. The tender moment is interrupted when Julian suggests that we head out. “Father, Lina and I are going to Sears. We would love for you to join us.”
“Thank you but I have some matters to attend to before the party.”
“Well then, we’ll see you at the celebration.”
I can lie to myself and pretend it’s just another Saturday for me. But the truth is, I can’t remember the last time I felt so happy to be going about my day. As we make our way to the car, I study my childhood friend. Somehow, even after all these years apart, he’s managed to make me feel a little lighter, a little happier. I also need to acknowledge that for the first time in my life, I also became jealous of another woman.
Julian, dressed simply in jeans and a Coldplay t-shirt, looks scrumptious. He’s saying something, but I can’t hear a word because something else is consuming my thoughts.
He’s going to fuck her tonight, I remind myself for what seems like the hundredth time.
As I ponder about what the man I’m attracted to will be doing tonight to someone else, my phone vibrates, and Roger’s name appears. “Excuse me. I need to take this.” Holding the phone close to my ear, I say, “Hey.”
Roger’s voice is hoarse, and I have no doubt he just finished a cigarette before calling me. “Sweetheart, I just got off the phone with Cosima. It looks like Disappear is going to be delayed. Something about funding.” He coughs. “I know you had your heart set, but I’ll know more in a week or two. Sit tight and have fun while you’re away.”
“Oh, that’s disappointing. I had actually planned to leave in a few days. I guess I don’t need to go to New York then.”
“Why not? You should still go. The change of pace would do you some good. Just let me know your plans, and until then, I’ll keep you updated. Are you with Mr. Hottie right now?”
“Yes, we’re actually on our way to brunch. I’ll call you tomorrow. Don’t worry about me, okay? I love you, and please stop smoking.”
Coughing again, he promises, “I’ll get the patch this week. I want to hear everything. Everything! Don’t be a good girl! Love you too, sweetheart.”
Julian’s hand is on the car door handle. Before releasing it, he turns to face me. “Was that your fiancé? Is everything all right?”
I place the phone in my bag without looking at him. “No, it wasn’t Andrew. It was Roger. And no, not really. The project I am scheduled to work on is on hold.” The disappointment on my face is quite obvious.
“Who is Roger?” he inquires innocently.
“Roger is a good friend of mine. He’s also the music supervisor for the film I’m commissioned to score. He actually saw you a few days ago at the café and was quite taken with you.”
“Taken with me?” He raises an eyebrow as he opens the car door for me.
Sliding in the passenger seat, I admit, “Yes, taken with you. He just called you Mr. Hottie.”
“Ah, well, that’s … that’s nice.” He pauses for a brief second. “But you know I love women.”
“Yes, you certainly do,” I say, surprising myself.
“Now that we both know that, are you okay about the call you just received?”
“I think so. I’ll know more in a week or two.” I look up at him and try to fake a smile, but I know it’s not working. I’ve never been a great actress.
We share a quiet moment before Julian closes the car door. On his way to the driver side, he has his phone in hand, texting someone.
Once seated and in front of the steering wheel, he cocks his head slightly. “You look lovely. Let’s get some delicious pancakes.”
I nod in agreement. The Police’s “Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic” comes through once the engine of his Bondmobile roars. I shake my head in amazement. “Some things never change, Julian.”
“For the most part. And yes, I still love The Police. Once Miss Pendleton played Ghost in the Machine, I just started collecting all their records,” he says before admitting, “For years, I never knew what ‘Roxanne’ was about and when I finally figured it out.” He stops himself before continuing. “Well, I still prefer to listen to their music on vinyl. I would love to see them live, but I guess that’s not going to happen anytime soon. Are you okay with listening to them?”
“Come on! Of course, I love them too.” I chuckle before confessing, “I thought it was really cute how you used to sing along to ‘Roxanne.’ Never mind you were a ten-year-old singing about a hooker. Good times, Julian. Good times.”
He rolls his eyes before saying, “Cute?”
“Yes, cute.” I study him and he’s definitely not the cute ten-year-old boy anymore singing about a prostitute.
We cruise toward Union Square, both singing loudly along to Julian’s favorite band.
Twenty-One
Sears is an old establishment on Powell Street. The last time I had been in this city was during a trip with Elisa, Julian and Caroline. Elisa had decided to take us here during our summer break. New York had been unbearably hot and humid that year, and one of her closest friends lived in San Francisco at the time. As always, Elisa insisted that I join them.
Making our way toward Union Square, the city is surrounded by so much energy that it reminds me of a mini NYC. Sears is still located in the same building it has occupied for decades. The outside line to enter its establishment is long. The second line inside is even longer. Our wait is about forty minutes, but time seems to go quickly as Julian and I continue to chat. Once we are seated, it’s quite obvious that nothing has changed.
Dark interiors. Photos of several high-profile patrons line the walls along with photos of former employees. Our time at the restaurant is filled with more great conversation. We talk as if we had never been apart, reminiscing about our childhood together and discussing some of my past projects. And although he’s confessed to listening to my compositions daily, I’m truly amazed that he knows all the films I’ve worked on and can even hum some of my scores.
Deep laughter erupts from him when I recount the shenanigans of my closest friends. He mentions several times that Patti and Roger sound like fun and wonders if I’m making up stories. Surprisingly, he’s curious about Andrew, and a quarter of our conversation revolves around my fiancé. After stuffing our faces with tiny Swedish pancakes, Julian stares at my empty plate and smiles.
“Are you sure you weren’t on a hunger strike recently?” With the pad of his thumb, he wipes off a trace of syrup next to my lips. “I’m glad you enjoyed your meal. Let’s walk around for a while. We don’t need to return for a few more hours. Are you game for that?”
“Definitely. Lead the way.”
Ever the gentleman, Julian pays the bill and we head out into the chilly spring San Franci
sco air. Union Square is only a couple of blocks away from the restaurant. Peeking up at the iconic building that houses The Westin, I can’t believe how much this city invigorates me. This city reminds me of home. It is full of life. Live music surrounds us, and a part of me longs to dance. There are several folks leisurely sitting on the steps of the square. This particular area is every shopper’s dream−Neiman Marcus, and one of my personal favorites, Barneys. We spend time window shopping, and Julian offers to buy me anything that catches my eye. Of course, I have to remind him that I can pay my own way as he smirks. My childhood friend and I walk hand in hand as we sip our Starbucks lattes completely immersed in everything around us.
When Julian’s phone rings, he doesn’t answer it.
“Do you need to get that?” I ask before finishing the last drop of my hazelnut latte.
“No, our time is limited. I’ll answer it later. Let’s just enjoy the day.” Surprising me, he kisses my palm. It’s the first time anyone has ever kissed that spot.
And I love it.
We stroll along the Embarcadero, finally reaching the ferry building that accommodates the marketplace. Padding our way through different booths, we try food samples before heading back outside. Both of us lean against the rail, enjoying the view before us.
“Do you remember the last time we were here together?” My companion’s eyes remain fixed on the bay.
I can’t help but turn my whole body to face him. “Here? We’ve never been here together.”
“I didn’t mean the marketplace. I meant the city.”
“Yes, of course. It was such a great time for me. It was right before …” I respond and quickly turn my head away.
Looking over his shoulder, he utters, “Mum would have really loved the ferry building. I always wonder where we would be if Mum had never died.” Julian finally turns to me and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. Clearing his throat, he says, “I’m sorry.”
