Please

by Hazel Hughes

  *

  When Elizabeth went up to her office that evening to check her email, she found a message from Abbie politely reminding her to move her ass on the second draft, an invitation to try Viagra free of charge and a message from Sebastian with the subject line: I’m coming to you.

  Elizabeth’s heart thumped wildly as she opened the email and skimmed through it. Sebastian had five days off from shooting AWOL and he was coming to see her. If she didn’t write him back and arrange to meet him somewhere to her liking, he would be forced to show up at her home. He put the address he had found listed for S Holmes in the People Finder in the subscript. Her address.

  Elizabeth’s fingers were trembling as she wrote him back.

  Please, Sebastian. I was just getting to the point at which I didn’t see your face every time I closed my eyes. Whatever you do, don’t come to Fairfield. You will destroy my life. Besides, I won’t be here. I am going to be in Chicago for a concert that weekend. Maybe I can get away for a few minutes. We’ll be staying downtown at the Marriott.

  She hit send, then, pushing her laptop out of the way, flopped forward on the desk so heavily she was sure she’d have a bruise on her forehead the next day. “Oh, God,” she groaned. “What have I done?” But part of her, a small, hungry part of her situated south of her belly button, was throbbing in anticipation.

  *

  The next day was a blur. Elizabeth went about her usual routine in a fog, at least half of her brain disengaged from the task at hand, anticipating Sebastian’s reply. She burnt the kids’ morning oatmeal and sent Gwen off to school with Keenan’s library book, an oversight that was only forgiven after Elizabeth paid a grim and teary Gwen off with a liberal candy bribe.

  She got next to nothing done on her second draft, spending her morning Googling Sebastian Faulkner instead. He had a Facebook page of course, with ten thousand so-called friends. That was more than the number of copies of Habibi Baby she had sold. He also had a fan page set up by someone called Kenny Likes, which, judging from the comments, seemed to be visited mainly by teenage girls and gay men. And of course, there were all those links to celebrity gossip sites that Sebastian forwarded her. There were lots of pretty pictures, but not much hard news.

  Elizabeth realized that she didn’t know anything about his life, other than the few tidbits he had offered her and what was on the web for anyone to see. Did he have brothers? Sisters? Parents? She didn’t even know where he was from. Of course, he didn’t know anything about her life either. And, she realized, she didn’t want him to. Those worlds had to remain separate, she thought, resolutely switching off her computer. She wasn’t getting any work done, anyway, she reasoned. Time for a run.

  She managed to float through the rest of the day without any further mishaps, but by the time the supper dishes were cleared up, the kids were in bed and Connie and Steve were watching Dateline in the family room, Elizabeth was virtually twitching with anticipation.

  She climbed the stairs to her office and switched on her laptop in a state of controlled impatience. But when she opened up her in-box she found nothing. It was the first day since she’d left New York that Sebastian hadn’t sent her an email.

  *

  The next day, there was nothing, again. And the next, and the next. Elizabeth careened from disappointment to anger, to despair and back to anger. She did her best to conceal her emotions, but apparently her best wasn’t good enough.

  “Have you thought about taking estrogen?” Connie asked one morning when she came in from the garden to find Elizabeth sobbing uncontrollably, standing over the shattered and smeared remains of the cake she had been trying to frost and an antique porcelain cake-stand. “I think you’ve got early onset menopause.”

  After a week or so without hearing anything from Sebastian, Elizabeth settled into a state of fuzzy despondency, lit by sudden flashes of rage. She thought about sending him another email, telling him how she felt, telling him that he was sick, that Mel and Abbie were right, that she didn’t care if he was sleeping with Susan and every C-list starlet in town because she didn’t want anything to do with him. She avoided looking at her tattoo when she got dressed or showered, hoping that one day she’d be able to see the lacy web of ink without thinking of his thumb grazing it as he arched into her.

  Then, the day before she and Nina and Emily were to leave for Chicago, she got a message from him. It was two words. “Delayed gratification.”

  *

  “I used to think Chicago was this cool, amazing big city. But compared to New York, it’s just so Midwestern, you know?” Elizabeth said, looking out the window of the backseat of Nina’s Renault.

  Emily looked over her shoulder at her and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, we get it Liz. You’re so hip. Hanging out at the Mercer with Cullen Zweibeker and Susan Solstein.” She smirked, to show Elizabeth she was kidding, at least partly.

  “Alright,” Elizabeth said, chastened. “I’ll shut up about New York.” She had somehow managed to paint a vivid picture of her trip to New York without once mentioning Sebastian. She did have a moment of panic when Emily, the E! Channel addict, had asked if she had met him. “Oh, yeah,” she had said, breezily, belying the thudding of her pulse in her ears. “He’s okay. A bit of a flirt. I think he’s seeing Naomi Clamp.” And she’d been so worried.

  “Elizabeth is right, though,” Nina said from the front seat, peering over her driving glasses. “There is no city like New York. Even Paris can’t compare. And Chicago. Pff!”

  Still, that was part of the reason Elizabeth loved Chicago. Even though it was a big city, it had a down-home kind of feel. Nobody tried too hard. As they drove down Michigan Avenue, Elizabeth admired the incredible Art Deco architecture and the elaborate planters the city had sprung for to soften the look of the imposing gray structures.

  They already had their lists of stores to visit and their mani-pedis booked. Elizabeth still hadn’t heard from Sebastian, other than the cryptic two-word message that had only tilted her emotions into further confusion. But chatting with her two best friends, a weekend of shopping and eating and dancing stretching out ahead of her, Elizabeth didn’t care. Almost.

  *

  “Whoo-hoo!” Elizabeth and her friends screamed like teenagers when the spotlight shone on Justin Timberlake, wearing his signature fedora and vest. They were down on the floor of the arena instead of up in the stands so that they could dance. As the distinctive beat of “Rock Your Body” started, Elizabeth began to do just that, closing her eyes and feeling the bass throb through her. She danced through that song and the next, taking occasional swigs from her water bottle. But just as the third song was starting – it was “SexyBack” – she felt a warm hand on her shoulder.

  Startled, she turned to see a familiar face smiling down at her. Her heart leaped to her throat. “Sebastian!” she gasped.

  He lifted her chin and kissed her softly on either cheek, just catching the corners of her mouth with his. “Elizabeth,” he sighed in her ear, instantly igniting a spark between her legs. That voice. Elizabeth turned to her friends, whose eyes were boring into her, Emily’s with cold suspicion, Nina’s with curiosity.

  “Hey, guys,” she shouted to be heard over the music. “What a weird coincidence. I was just telling you about Sebastian. He’s one of the actors who’s staring in ...”

  “We know.” Emily interrupted her, arms crossed. She glared at Elizabeth.

  “Um,” Elizabeth continued, looking at Sebastian. “This is Emily. And this is Nina. My two BFFs.” She gave Sebastian a look that she hope conveyed, “They don’t know about us and I damn well don’t want them to find out from you.”

  Sebastian smiled his sexy charmer smile, leaning in to kiss Emily. She remained frozen, eyes hard. He kissed Nina next, who happily returned the kiss.

  Elizabeth gave Emily her “be nice” look. Emily stared back at her, expression unchanged.

  “This is incredible!” Sebastian enthused. “There must be ten thousand people here, at
least. I spotted you from the VIP section.” He waved his hand toward the side of the stadium where there were boxes. “Actually, Bob is there too. He wants to meet you.”

  Elizabeth gave him a questioning look. She didn’t know any Bobs.

  “Sorry ladies. Do you mind if I borrow Elizabeth for a minute? Bob hates to be kept waiting.” He linked his arm through Elizabeth’s and started steering her away.

  Elizabeth looked back at her friends with a “what-can-I-do?” expression on her face. Emily’s mouth was set in a hard line and her eyes were stony, but Nina just shrugged and raised her eyebrows.

  “Who is Bob?” Elizabeth asked, looking up at Sebastian as they wove through the crowds. He had his arm wrapped around her shoulders now. Elizabeth could almost see the electricity between their bodies as they bumped and jostled.

  Sebastian smiled, shark-like, his teeth white behind his five o’clock shadow, his eyes dark and glinting with mischief. “Damned if I know.”

  *

  They were in the back of Sebastian’s rented Escalade. Through the tinted windows Elizabeth could see row upon row of vehicles, the odd clump of people moving among them, strangely organic and foreign in this grid of machines.

  “Are you sure no one can see in?” she asked, again.

  Sebastian stopped unbuttoning her shirt and flopped back against the black leather seat, pained exasperation marring his perfect features. “Elizabeth!”

  “It’s just ...” Elizabeth hesitated, looking out the window again. “I feel so exposed.”

  “Mm,” Sebastian agreed, as he edged closer to her, his hand moving slowly up the thigh of her dark denim-clad leg. He stopped with his fingers just grazing her crotch. With his other hand he grabbed the hair at the nape of her neck and pulled her face close to his, their lips just barely touching. “That’s the whole point.” He brushed his lips across hers as he scraped his fingertips lightly over her mound.

  Elizabeth quivered with lust, but her brain wouldn’t shut off. They weren’t in New York anymore. This was too close to home. “I just don’t think ...”

  Sebastian released her, suddenly, throwing his hands up in frustration. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared straight ahead. Elizabeth could see his jaw muscle tensing.

  “It’s just that ...”

  Sebastian turned to look at her, the naughty glint back in his eye. “If you don’t believe me, see for yourself. Go outside. Try to look in. Tell me what you see.”

  Elizabeth quickly did up the buttons on her plaid cowboy shirt and slipped out of the car, closing the door behind her. She stood a foot away from the car and stared at the window. Nothing.

  She heard Sebastian’s muffled voice. “Tell me what you see.”

  She stepped closer so her nose was almost pressed against the glass. She could only see her own reflection.

  “You’re right,” Elizabeth admitted, opening the door of the Escalade. She gasped, her hand coming up to her mouth like a heroine in a fifties horror film.

  Sebastian had taken his shirt off and unzipped his jeans. One hand rested on his neck while the other worked his erection, pulling the skin taut over the shaft. He looked at her through half-lidded eyes, a smirk on his lips, as he rubbed his thumb over the smooth, almost plum-purple head. “Satisfied?” he asked, his voice low and seductive.

  Elizabeth nodded her head, climbing in and closing the door behind her. “Take off your jeans,” Sebastian said, continuing to work himself, his hand sliding up and down, down and up.

  Elizabeth pressed her back into the seat, lifting her pelvis up to pull her jeans and panties down, her eyes glued to Sebastian’s hard cock. She had them down to her knees when Sebastian said, “Stop.”

  She did.

  “Kneel on the seat, facing me,” he said. “That’s right. Now undo your shirt. Slowly.”

  Elizabeth did, her breath coming faster and shallower as she watched Sebastian’s hand on his shaft, desperate to feel him hard inside her. But he had other plans.

  “Now show me. Show me how you touch yourself. I want to see what you do when you’re thinking about me, when you’re in the shower. Hot. Wet.”

  Elizabeth hesitated. She had never masturbated in front of anyone before. Despite everything that she and Sebastian had done together, she felt incredibly shy.

  His hand stopped its up and down movement, coming to rest on his thigh. “Close your eyes, if you want. Imagine you’re alone. That’s it.”

  Closing her eyes, she ran her hands over her breasts and stomach down to her thighs. With one hand, she widened her slit, using the first two fingers of the other hand to coax out her clit.

  Sebastian moaned. “Good. Nice and slow. Show me.” She could hear the sound of his hand moving up and down on his hard rod again. This excited her more. She slipped her fingers inside to lubricate them, letting out a little sigh as she did.

  “Deeper,” Sebastian instructed, his voice husky. “Ride your hand like it’s my cock.”

  She did, rocking her hips back and forth, feeling her heartbeat quickening. Then she slid her fingers out and started to rub her clit with her moist fingers, her hips still moving.

  “Oh, God,” Sebastian panted. “Now tell me. Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

  “I’m thinking about your cock,” she whispered.

  “More,” he said, moving closer. “Paint me a picture.”

  Licking her lips, Elizabeth kept her hand moving. “We’re outside, in a field or a meadow. It’s warm and sunny. I’m naked except for a thin, white tank top. You can see my hard nipples through it, it’s so thin. And I’m on my knees, touching myself, like this. Except you’re standing in front of me. No shirt on. Jeans undone. Your cock is so hard. I’m licking it, sucking it, sliding my mouth up and down. I’m so wet. I’m fucking my hand. You’re fucking my mouth. I’m coming, I’m coming.”

  She did, her hips bucking against her hand like a prize bronco, eyes squeezed shut.

  “Oh, Elizabeth,” Sebastian moaned. “Open your mouth.” Then he pulled her down on him. Her mouth wrapped around his cock. One suck and he was exploding in her mouth, salty-sweetness filling it.

  *

  Later, after Sebastian convinced Elizabeth to go back to his hotel room with him, after he had taken her from behind on the balcony, Elizabeth fully dressed, leaning against the railing with her jeans down around her knees again, looking out on the sea of glittering lights, she asked him the question that had been in her mind from the time he had cornered her in the stairwell of the Mercer.

  “Why me?”

  They were lying on the bed, freshly showered and wrapped in white terrycloth robes. Two rare sirloin burgers were on their way, courtesy of room service.

  Sebastian put his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. “It’s like I told you, in New York. I read your book. I saw your picture, and it was like, I want that.” He glanced at Elizabeth out of the corner of his eye. “I want her. Like when you see a picture of something in a magazine and you can’t stop thinking about it and you know you’re not going to be happy until you have it.”

  Elizabeth stared at him, wishing she could see into his brain. “Yeah. I get that part, sort of, though there are lots of, um, newer models that I would think you’d want more.”

  Sebastian laughed. “New is boring. New is easy. I like new from time to time, but for my mainstays, I prefer vintage.” He winked, rolling onto his side to face her. He ran a hand over her hair. This sparked another question.

  “What about Susan?”

  Sebastian flopped back onto his back, hands going to his head. “Christ. What about Susan? I thought we’d dealt with that. We’re old friends. She got me some auditions when I first got to LA.”

  Elizabeth reached for his bathrobe, exposing his tattoo. “Are her initials on here?”

  Sebastian slapped her hand away, closing the robe. He turned to face her, leaning on one elbow. “Did we fuck? Is that what you want to know? Hells, yes. Once. Like monkeys in hea
t. Are we still fucking? No. We both want to be director in the sack and that just doesn’t work. Don’t ask me why she was messing with you in New York. She’s a little bit sadistic. A little bit possessive. But I told her to back off. She’s not an issue.”

  Elizabeth nodded, her eyes searching his.

  “And the other girls? Naomi? The one you were with at the Calvin Klein thing?”

  She wasn’t sure why she was even bringing this up. Sebastian was perfectly honest about his sexual diet – frequent and varied.

  As if reading her mind, he said, “Look, Elizabeth. You know what I get up to. I don’t keep it a secret. The fact that I love you doesn’t change who I am and what I need. Where are you going with this?”

  She looked into his eyes, deep, dark and soulful. “I don’t know. I guess, this, what we’re doing now, it’s not fantasy anymore. All of a sudden it’s a little too real. You think Emily and Nina are going to buy that you whisked me off to an after-party? Not a chance. This is about to get messy, and for what? I don’t even really know you.”

  Sebastian took a deep breath, closing his eyes. “That’s bullshit,” he said. “So you don’t know all the minutiae of my life. I don’t know that shit about you, and I don’t care. I know who you really are. I know your soul.” He opened his eyes and looked at her. The intensity of his gaze was so fierce, she had to look away.

  “But,” he said, holding her chin and turning her face back toward him. “If there’s something you need to know, I’ll tell you. Ask me anything.” His eyes were wide, innocent, like Keenan’s.

  The words were out before she even thought them. “Tell me about your mother.”

  His features didn’t change, but it was as if all the light drained out of them. “What is there to tell? She was beautiful, charming and more interested in chasing a good time than bringing up a bastard mistake. I lived with my grandmother, who was one cold bitch, until she died of a heart attack. I was only seven, but I remember thinking it was pretty ironic. I mean, who knew she had a heart? Then my mother put me into one boarding school after another, changing every time the latest rich Euro pimp got bored with her and the money dried up. By the time I was fifteen I’d been fucked five days from Friday by every faggot bully prefect in continental Europe. Then she fell in love,” Sebastian put air quotes around the expression, “with this Canadian flour heir, and she stuck me in a sick-rich boarding school near Toronto. That’s where I met Susan. She did a workshop at my school. Told me I had talent and that if I ever came to LA she’d help me out. Less than a year later I was knocking on her door.”