Born Again

by Heidi Lowe

  Through gritted teeth, “She’s my best friend. You’re doing this to get at me.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “I dunno, because you get some sick thrill out of seeing me like this.”

  She sat up, regarded me with a look I couldn’t decipher. Then said, “Like what?”

  “Just forget it,” I mumbled, then twisted away as much as my seatbelt would allow.

  After some time, when I thought she’d gone back to resting her eyes, she said, “She’s fun. It has nothing to do with you.”

  Well that just made things a million times worse. She actually liked Brit.

  Fun! I hated that word and everything it stood for. Once upon a time it had applied to me, but I’d made the necessary changes in my life to prioritize my health and well-being over hedonism. Now I was being punished for it.

  The meeting went well, but I barely paid attention. I was still stuck on the word “fun”, furious at her subtle implication that I wasn’t fun in my own right.

  I was still furious when we got back to the office and went our separate ways. Even when I packed up to leave and head home. And the fury had reached fever pitch by the time I walked to the elevator with my coworkers but had to turn back because I’d left my cell phone.

  I burst into her office, startling her.

  “Please don’t go out with her tonight.”

  She was still seated behind her desk, though she had her coat on. She folded her arms across her chest. “Miss Adams, what—”

  “I couldn’t bear it.” My voice cracked.

  Her face softened. She rubbed her neck, looked, for the first time, nervous. “I can’t give you what you want—”

  “Then let me give you what you want.”

  Although I was desperate to feel her lips on mine again, I was never aggressive with my initial kiss, always giving her the opportunity to stop me if she wanted to. But she let me twist her swivel chair around so she was facing me. She watched me sink to my knees in front of her; and when I pulled her face close, she gave my tongue full permission to ravage her mouth.

  I pushed her coat off her shoulders, and she shrugged out of it, never once separating her mouth from mine.

  I was so hungry for her, for every part of her, that I didn’t waste any time tugging her blouse off and tossing it to the floor.

  I took a moment to admire her ample bosom; so pert and immaculate.

  With her eyes penetrating mine, she reached both hands behind her back and unclasped her white bra. It fell away, revealing mouth-watering mounds that I practically dived on.

  I claimed each breast in turn, her nipples stiffening against my tongue. She stroked my head as I licked and sucked. Her moans were light, but oh so sexy. I’d never realized how much of a turn on my partner’s moans of pleasure were until I’d pleasured women. Getting her off was all I cared about.

  Once I was satisfied that her nipples had been sufficiently assaulted, I kissed my way down her stomach, unfastened her pants, and tugged them down with her panties, leaving her bare ass on her leather chair.

  Two types of fear consumed me then. The first: I was afraid she would come to her senses and stop me, stop this from becoming a HR nightmare. The second: oh fuck, what if I wasn’t good enough? What if I couldn’t make her come? None of these concerns had arisen with the stranger in the club, but with her, the only person that mattered, I panicked.

  If she senses any hesitation on your part, she’ll stop you and go get it from someone else, namely Brit. So woman the fuck up! It’s just a vagina, for God’s sake, not a rocket ship. You know how it works.

  I went for gold. I kissed and sucked at the insides of her thighs, leaving my saliva glistening on her flesh. I loved that it was there, that she had a piece of me on her.

  I sank lower, the scent of her womanhood caressing my nostrils, like some hypnotic fragrance. She smelled divine, and all I wanted was to devour everything she had to offer.

  With my hands clasping her hips, I slid her forward so that I could get into position, then I let my mouth loose on her sex, gobbling with reckless abandon. I didn’t go straight for the grand prize, instead let my tongue roam her nether regions, lapping up her moistness, savoring every mouthful. How easily I’d acclimatized to my new role of lady-pleaser.

  “Why do you taste so good?” It was a rhetorical question.

  She let out a breathless little laugh. “Diet,” was all she said. This wasn’t a time for conversation.

  I knew what was expected of me. My tongue eventually found its way to her now swollen nub, and I claimed it unapologetically. Circling, stabbing, stroking, my tongue did the work of a soldier that afternoon. Her sap covered my nose, my cheeks, clung to my lips. I didn’t realize how messy this whole business would be, or how gleeful I was to be covered in her.

  Her murmurs echoed across the room. She writhed against my mouth, squeezing the chair handles and thrusting, in a desperate bid to get more and more contact.

  I felt her convulse and expire in the final throes of her orgasm, her bean still in my mouth. I didn’t want to let go of it for anything.

  Her moans died off into pants. These were the only sounds in the room.

  Her intoxicating scent kept me on my knees, between her legs like an obedient slave. I wanted to bottle it up and sell it, it was that good!

  “Can you hand me my pants?”

  I picked up her pants and panties, got to my feet. She snatched them from me, cut me a look. This was not the reaction I was expecting.

  I stood back, watched her get dressed. She was even more perfect after her orgasm, like she was glowing. If only she didn’t look so angry.

  I would have gladly kept her sap on my face for the rest of my life, never washing it off, but I still had to get home, so I wiped it off with the sleeve of my blouse.

  “You’re mad at me again, aren’t you?” I asked, even though it was obvious.

  “I’ve worked too hard,” she mumbled to herself through gritted teeth. “Too fucking hard, and sacrificed too much to get where I am.” Then she turned an accusatory finger on me. “And I sure as hell am not going to throw that all away now. Not for you, not for anyone. Now go!”

  I didn’t need to be told twice.

  ELEVEN

  Her scent was still clinging to me by the time I got home that evening, and I was in no hurry to wash it off. I could still taste her on my tongue. These things should have made me the happiest woman alive. Wasn’t that how one felt when they got what they wanted? Wasn’t this supposed to be a moment of triumph? So why had my journey home been disquieting? Why did I have to fight back tears so that Brit wouldn’t detect my anguish and inquire about it?

  She’d been mean to me many times, and I’d pretty much managed to brush it off. But this was different. The agony coupled with contempt as she pointed her finger at me and said those words, that stayed with me all the way home. Distracted me on the road, causing me to almost crash into a car when the lights changed.

  Regret. Blame. Distress. Things I never wanted to be associated with our first time together. My ability to be irresistible to her had come at a price. Now she saw me as a temptress, out to destroy her, to jeopardize her career. Now she saw me as an enemy, no better than a succubus.

  I found Brit in the kitchen, a bottle of wine in front of her.

  “Long day?” I asked, plopping my purse on the table, then pouring myself a soft drink. The wine would have been a more fitting choice.

  When she didn’t reply, I turned back to look at her and noticed how despondent she looked. Uncharacteristically, she didn’t appear to be enjoying her drink.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know why it’s bothering me so much.” She took a swig from her glass before topping it back up. “It’s not like it’s never happened before.”

  I gave her a blank look. “What happened?”

  “She cancelled on me.”

  I washed down the sudden dryness in my throat with apple jui
ce, but couldn’t get rid of the taste of guilt that clung to my tongue.

  “Did she, uh, did she say why?”

  “Just that she’d had a stressful day and needed to recuperate.” She shrugged. “Which probably means I’m never gonna hear from her again. I know how this works. I do this myself.” She laughed, though the sadness in her eyes was clear.

  I turned away because I couldn’t bear to look at her. “Well it’s probably for the best. You like men, and she likes women. Sooner or later it was bound to come to a head.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.” She slid the bottle along the table, in my direction. “Don’t make me drink alone, Daiquiri.”

  I shook my head. “Sorry, just the soft stuff for me.” In my mood it would have been easy to slip back into old habits, and before long we’d be three bottles down and more distressed than when we’d started.

  I had an early night, which really meant I’d crawled into bed at nine and stayed up all night ruminating about what I would say to Naomi the following day; or, more importantly, what she would say to me.

  Nothing. Not one word exchanged. She had a way of being very absent when she wanted to be. I saw her briefly in the morning, then didn’t see her again for the rest of the day. She’d chosen a couple of juniors to accompany her to back to back pitch meetings. I’d only been chosen for one pitch with her — Rainbow Wares, and that move was out of spite. Now I couldn’t help but wonder if I was being punished. Three months and only one joint pitch? That didn’t seem right.

  So on Friday afternoon, from my office I watched with eagle eyes, waiting for her return from lunch. Then I pounced.

  Everyone else was in their office, and Saeed was still at lunch. I’d brought a homemade tuna salad with me to save me the excursion.

  I knocked lightly on her door.

  Impatiently, “Come in.”

  She didn’t seem surprised when she saw it was me. “What is it, Miss Adams?”

  It’s Dakota, if you don’t mind. We should be on a first name basis by now, don’t you think? You can at least do the woman who went down on you the courtesy of using her Christian name.

  “I—I’d like to go on another pitch meeting.” Deep down I knew this wasn’t the conversation I wanted to have. I’d used it as cover to get me in the room.

  She shrugged out of her jacket, hung it up in her closet.

  “When I find one suitable for you, I’ll let you know.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “The meaning is quite clear, Miss Adams.”

  She paid me no attention as she settled behind her desk, powered up her computer.

  “Not to me. I could have done any one of yesterday’s pitches with you, unless, you know, you don’t think I know what toothpaste or laundry detergent are.”

  I thought I saw the flicker of a smile, the tiniest hint, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. “I didn’t think you were suitable. We all have our strengths and weaknesses, Miss Adams—”

  “Stop calling me that!”

  The sudden sharpness in my tone made her look at me. “Isn’t that your name?”

  “It’s impersonal, and we’re past that...”

  As soon as I said it, I knew I was toast. Whatever playfulness had been present in her eyes was now gone.

  “We’re not past anything, and don’t you dare forget that.”

  “All I meant was—”

  “I know exactly what you meant,” she snapped. “Now listen very carefully, because this is the last time I’m going to say it: I am your boss, you are my employee, and that’s all we’re ever going to be. Have I made myself clear?”

  “If that’s so true, if that’s all I am to you, your employee, then why did you cancel your date the other night? Huh? Wanna know what I think? I think you feel the same way I do, but don’t wanna muddy the waters around here.”

  We stared each other down. I was so sure about my claim, so hopeful for confirmation. I wanted her to own it, to tell me I was right. Then everything else would fall into place. All the other stuff — the work stuff, the Colin stuff — we’d figure it out.

  Then she picked up her cell phone, scrolled through it, put it to her ear. She kept her eyes on me as she waited. I frowned, unsure of what was happening.

  “Hi Britney, it’s Naomi. I know you’re probably at work now. Listen, are you free tomorrow evening? Let’s have dinner. My place. Give me a call when you get this message...”

  My breathing was heavy, erratic. My teeth were clenched so as to stop me from screaming at her.

  “That clear enough for you, Miss Adams?” She put extra stress on my name as if to fully drive the point home.

  “Crystal.”

  Colin stared back at me through the spy hole, the glass morphing his head. I wasn’t expecting him, nor was I in the mood to see him, but I unlocked the door anyway.

  He kissed me on both cheeks. He smelled like gas and cologne.

  “Did I miss a call or text?” I asked. He followed me through to the living room. It was Saturday afternoon and I’d slept in most of the morning, nursing my wounds.

  He laughed. “Can’t I surprise my girlfriend once in a while?”

  His girlfriend. That’s what I was, though no one would have guessed it from my recent actions. There had been two women in just one week; I’d cheated on him twice, and hadn’t slept with him, my boyfriend of five years, once. In just a few short months my life had become a sleazy soap opera.

  My heart ached to see him, knowing what I’d done to him, after everything he’d done for me. Saving me from a life of destitution, of regular alcohol binges. He’d taken a misguided party girl, put her on the path to salvation, and turned her into a responsible adult. I must have been the most ungrateful person in the world. But my guilt only manifested itself upon seeing him; when he wasn’t there, I didn’t even think about him, didn’t consider his feelings. Some overpaid shrink would have called me a borderline sociopath.

  “Of course. Do you want a drink?”

  I poured us some orange juice with ice, and we sat together on the couch. Something was on his mind. He did that thing where he picked at bits of fluff on his pants whenever he had something uncomfortable to say.

  “What’s on your mind, Col?” We would have been there all night if I didn’t ask.

  “Are you going to church tomorrow?”

  I thought about it. “I don’t think so.” Before the promotion, before Naomi, I’d taken an almost addictive approach to my church attendance. Nothing could have kept me from it. But now, I felt like a fraud being there, like I no longer belonged. Worse still, I didn’t want to belong. As hard as it was to accept my growing feelings for Naomi and my attraction to women in general, the awakening had made me feel alive again. Had made me realize how sheltered I’d let myself become in my efforts to avoid relapsing into old ways. I’d suppressed so much of myself upon joining the church, and it felt refreshing to let that side of me spill out, come what may. I had to take the bad with the good.

  “Why not?”

  “I’m... I’m questioning things. My faith...”

  It was such a huge deal, something all Christians everywhere had experienced at least once in their lives. Until now I’d had no reason to.

  “I’m worried about you, Dakota.” He set his glass tumbler down on the coffee table, took my hand. “I’m worried that if you make a habit of these absences you’ll be right back where you started from. Is that what you want?”

  He’d found me at a crucial point in my life, converted me like a true disciple; he’d shown me there was another way, a better one, a path that led to freedom. So why did I now feel so trapped in the church, in the religion? Why did it feel as though I’d been living a lie the past five years?

  “Of course not. But... I need time to think.”

  He squeezed my hand. “To think about what?” He didn’t get it.

  “Everything!” I threw up my hands. “Why are you hounding me about this? Don’
t I get to ponder?”

  “Where is this coming from?”

  I sighed. It must have been so easy for him, being certain of his destiny, of his faith. But not everyone had that luxury. “Please respect my wishes. I’ll be fine. I’m much stronger now. I’m not the lost twenty-four year old you saved.”

  We watched a movie on Netflix, and he kept his arm around me the whole time. But I was glad when he left. Christianity wasn’t the only thing that made me feel trapped...

  Brit did a twirl in front of me. “What d’you think? Slutty enough?”

  She’d invited herself into my bedroom later that evening, ignoring my request for peace and quiet while I watched a documentary on the mating habits of fish. Now she twisted around in a new purple mini dress that was so thin and cheap-looking, it looked like it had been fashioned from colored tissue paper.

  “If that’s the look you’re going for then you definitely nailed it,” I said in a bored drawl.

  “Oh, it is. I want her to look at me in this dress and know that I expect her to take it off as soon as I walk through the door!” She beamed from ear to ear.

  I looked away in disgust. Not just because of Brit but because of Naomi for even entertaining her. Was that all their attraction was based on, cheap sex? And this was something she valued more than what we could have had?

  “What are you up to tonight?”

  I shrugged miserably. “Nothing much.”

  I resented her pitying look. “You should go out. It’s a nice evening.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “Suit yourself. Well don’t wait up for me, all right?” She gave me the filthiest smile. “If things go the way they did the first night, I won’t be back till tomorrow afternoon.”

  Go to Hell! It was as if she were actively trying to rub it in, like she hated me and wanted to hurt me. My worst enemy wouldn’t have been this cruel. She was giving my parents a run for their money.

  I couldn’t concentrate on the stupid documentary — it was all too depressing. Here I was in bed, on a Saturday night, watching seafood copulate, bitter that I wasn’t getting any myself. How sad did one have to be to envy fish?!