by Lana Hartley
Heather clicks onto another screen. “Let me just see here…” she whispers and trails off.
“Do I have the date wrong?” I begin to doubt myself and my memory.
“Oh, here you are!” Heather chimes and then beams up at me. “Congratulations, I see you in the system, and you have the all-clear.”
“Wow, okay, thank you.” I hold a hand to my chest. “You really gave me a scare there,” I joke.
“I’m so sorry about that, Mr. Wolfe.” She sounds sincerely apologetic and a little too serious.
“Please, call me Owen.” I flash her my signature billion-dollar smile. “My father is Mr. Wolfe.”
“Yes, right…” she chuckles. “Owen.”
“So, should I go to the third floor now?” I ask expectantly.
“Yes.” Heather nods her head in approval. “Please take this key and make your way upstairs. You will see Crystal’s door is the first one on the left, right when you step off the elevators.”
“Thank you so much.” I bid Heather goodbye and make my eager trek upstairs.
The elevator dings on the third floor and dumps me out into a softly lit hallway. The décor of the area is much like it is downstairs, with red velvet drapes over the windows and gold trim railings against the walls.
The carpet is also red with little diamond shapes. Everything is warm, inviting and fucking sexy as hell.
I lick my lips and rap my knuckles against the door with the word “Crystal” splaying across the middle on a gold-plated plaque.
Everything I have wanted up to this moment comes rushing back to my head as the blood fills my hardening cock. I feel my heartbeat drumming in my ears, making a swooshing sound.
When the door opens, I’m surprised that it’s not Crystal on the other side, but a growly looking bald man.
“Um,” I glance down the hallway, “I think I might have the wrong room.” I chuckle nervously.
“You’re in the right place.” He nods gruffly and gestures me to come inside.
“You’re Owen Wolfe, right?” he asks.
“That’s me, guilty as charged.” I bounce on my heels and try to joke with this douche, but he’s clearly not up for my bullshit today.
“Mmm-hmm,” he mumbles and clicks something on a laptop beside him which I’m assuming has my name on it.
“There’s a lot of security to get to Crystal,” I note.
The guy doesn’t even give me the time of day or appease me with a response.
“So, now what?” I ask, feeling impatient.
“There’s your assigned room,” he says flatly and gestures a bored hand across the way. “Go in there, and Crystal will be in shortly.”
“Okay…thanks,” I say and stand there for a few seconds.
When I realize it’s clear he’s not leaving his watch station and he’s not going to engage me in any further conversation, I quietly step away and shut the door to my assigned room behind me.
I take a deep breath and glance around the room, scoping the place out.
There’s a bed with velvet rope around it and privacy drapes. I assume I’m supposed to get undressed and lay there while I wait for Crystal, which is what I do.
I take measured, slow breaths and try to convince myself that this is what I wanted all along, and that Crystal is the grand finale, the prize that will make me the envy of all my friends and fellow club members.
Getting involved with Molly was a mistake, and I should never again try to invest my time in a woman who wants something more from me that I’m uncommitted to reciprocate.
Crystal appears a few moments later, and she literally takes my breath away with her staggering beauty.
“Wow,” I mouth, more to myself than to her, and I simply lay there, naked, but also feeling the stun of a million volts of electricity as she begins to undress in front of me.
Crystal is beautiful. But she’s not the best I’ve seen. No one can compare to Molly.
She has toned muscles, though it’s not overdone. Her skin tone is bronze. Her long hair falls below her shoulders like fresh fucking spun silk.
Is she a sultry figment of my wild imagination?
I don’t know and I don’t care. I just need to be free of Molly.
When she removes her shirt, her humongous tits reveal perky nipples and I feel hungry for them.
Let me forget all the problems of my life. Let me just focus on her.
“You’re fucking hot,” I say, even though I know my line is one she’s heard before and will undoubtedly hear after me.
She doesn’t speak or respond to my compliment, but she does slowly crawl her way on top of me, where she straddles me to lean in for a kiss.
She smells feminine and flowery, but I can’t focus on her like I want to. Her lips are soft and delicious, but the chemistry is not on par. There’s something missing.
My head swirls around and I begin to picture Molly’s face instead of Crystal’s.
Is this one date for an hour with Crystal even fucking worth losing Molly over? It’s not like Crystal will ever even remember my name.
I’m just another number to her, another payload.
Molly and I have true chemistry and passion together that can’t be matched or mirrored, and I’m certainly not going to fucking find it in Crystal.
I shake my head, then realize I’m talking. I’m saying no, over and over.
Crystal stops briefly and speaks to me for the first time. “I’m sorry, what?” Her expression has flecks of annoyance in it.
“I can’t do this,” I say and push her off me.
“What the fuck, dude?” Crystal looks deeply offended.
“I’m sorry.” I begin to dress myself again. I can’t get out of there fucking fast enough now. “It’s really not you. It’s just…I mean you are fucking smoking hot, don’t get me wrong. I thought you were what I wanted but as it turns out...there’s another girl who I want to fight for more.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” she scoffs.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize, not knowing what to say.
It’s not like I’m actually hurting her here. The one who I’ve hurt is Molly, and I need to fucking get to her right the fuck now.
“You still have to pay for your hour,” Crystal spits out.
“Whatever you need me to do,” I say as I head for the door and dart from the room.
I don’t fucking care. I’ll pay twice her normal rate. I’m just fucking relieved that I didn’t make the biggest mistake yet and actually fuck her.
I race down the elevator and out the door of the club onto the crowded Manhattan Street where I can finally capture some air in my lungs.
I just fucking hope my decision to choose Molly hasn’t come too little too late.
Molly
The only sound in the room is the clink of sterling silver forks and knives brushing delicately against pretentious white china plates.
The dining area is lit only by the soft glow of flickering candle flames.
The scene should be serene and peaceful, but the company I’m with unfortunately dampers any hope of achieving such a feat.
I’m eating dinner in my father’s dining room, where I last sat three weeks ago and stormed out after my father insulted me, telling me I wasn’t good enough to sit at his fucking precious right hand.
I’m facing my older brother Harry as we eat dinner. The two of us flank my father, sitting in his prestigious spot at the head of the table.
“So, how are things, Molly?” Harry asks.
“Hmm?” I glance up absentmindedly as I realize I’m only playing with the peas on my plate, not actually bringing them up to my mouth for consumption.
“How are you doing?” Harry inflects.
I try to snap out of it. “Good.” I nod my head. “Really good.”
I bring my water glass up to my mouth and take a swig of the refreshing drink.
“Are you sure about that?” Harry chuckles as if the fucking asshole has me all figured out.
; “I’m okay,” I insist firmly and take a bite of my salmon.
“One of my friends mentioned to me that you’re a frequent flyer at The Avalon lately.” Harry smirks.
I gulp, but don’t reveal my poker face. “Who’s your friend?”
“Nobody.” Harry shrugs.
I know it’s a lost cause to try to smoke that information out of him.
“Well, I’m glad you care enough about me to have a spy check in on my daily activities,” I say with smug satisfaction.
“Well, what’s it about?” Harry presses, never being one for restricting abilities or knowing when to fucking quit. I swear, he doesn’t have that gene in his body where he cares about discretion or getting embarrassed over anything.
I fucking wish I could live my own life with that mentality, but I’m not about to admit that to him or anyone else, let alone with my father in the room.
“Maybe you should mind your own fucking business,” I state firmly.
“Language, Molly,” my father reprimands me as if I’m a child. He hasn’t spoken up until this moment.
“Oh, come off your moral high horse, Daddy,” I retort, knowing he’s no saint.
“I’m just trying to make friendly conversation,” Harry says defensively as if his pressing questions are no big deal, which of course, to him, they aren’t.
“It’s not even worth mentioning.” I shrug, trying to downplay my time at the Avalon as nothing. “So, how are things with you?” I ask, desperate to change the damn subject from me already.
I’m the unofficial black sheep of this family, and I take any opportunity I can to cast the limelight on someone else―if it suits me.
“Things are great with me,” Harry boasts proudly.
“Good for you.” I nod and take a bite of my salad.
“I should be into work tomorrow and the rest of the week,” Harry notes as if I should fucking get on my knees and praise him for taking the initiative to hold interest in his job.
“I’m glad to see you making an effort.” I give him a forced smile.
I notice a change in myself since the last time I came here to eat with my father. Well, first of all, Harry wasn’t here, but that’s not really important.
“I really like the stage I’m at in my life,” I blurt out even though nobody cares enough to ask.
Harry and my father both exchange a look and stare at me, wondering where all this self-proclaiming confidence is stemming from all of a sudden. I mean, I can’t really blame them. I have puzzling feelings about it all, too.
“Is that so?” Harry grins at me as if he’s unconvinced and is going to do his best to prove that and make me crack.
“Yep.” I nod adamantly. “I’m done with pleasing other people and that includes you and Daddy,” I state.
“You try to please me?” Harry grins in satisfaction.
“More Daddy than you.” I shrug because I don’t want to make him feel special.
My parents already do enough of that for me.
“I’m turning over a new leaf,” I proclaim.
My father chuckles and takes a sip of his brandy.
“I’m sorry, is something amusing?” I turn to look at my father.
“No.” He shakes his head and grins as he stares at his plate.
“I’m tired of nobody taking me seriously, so I’m not going to do anything at all. Then you’ll see how much you need me. I’ll prove it by not existing where you need me to be.”
My father raises an eyebrow and doesn’t respond.
“Are you crazy?” Harry asks out of nowhere.
“No, not really.” I stare at him.
“You sound like the guy in that Christmas movie,” Harry attests.
“It’s a Wonderful Life?” I ask.
“Yeah that’s the one,” Harry admits with a nod.
“This isn’t the movies, this is real life,” I state.
“No shit,” he says and takes a bite of his salad.
“I’ve come to a decision you will probably be proud about, though,” I add.
“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Harry leans on his elbows eagerly.
We’re talking to each other back and forth, engaging in conversation as if my father isn’t even in the fucking room.
“Well,” I wipe my mouth with my napkin and place it on the table beside my plate, “I’m taking an indefinite leave of absence from the company,” I say.
“Really?” Harry laughs. “When will that start?”
“Tomorrow.” I nod curtly. “I won’t be showing up to work tomorrow,” I confirm, more to myself than to them.
“That’s great,” Harry says, and leans back in his chair.
He actually starts fucking slow clapping in approval.
“I gotta say, little sis, I applaud you.” He continues to clap.
“Seriously?” I look at him as if he’s lost his fucking marbles.
“Yes,” he says with a grin. “You’re finally seeing the light. Reality is hitting you. Now you realize that shit is not as important as you think it is.”
“I don’t know if you’re making fun of me, but I’m feeling uncomfortable now,” I say and stand up.
“Are you going somewhere?” Harry stops laughing and eyes me.
“Yeah, away from you assholes,” I say.
“Molly, get back here right now.” My father’s voice booms and bellows through the otherwise silent room.
“I’m not coming back, Daddy.” I don’t even look twice before walking out the door.
I call my driver who swiftly picks me up to bring me back to my apartment.
On the entire ride home, I replay the conversation with Harry in my mind. I don’t regret the things I said, nor do I want to take back my decision to have a break from the work scene for a while.
I need a fucking time out, a break to find myself, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
I lock my apartment door behind me a few minutes after riding the elevator up. I’m sleepy, and all I want to do is take a nice warm bath and reflect on my past mistakes and how to fix them for a better future. Now that I’m not going to be working, I have all the time in the world.
Unfortunately, all I’m able to think about as I sink into the warm bathwater is fucking Owen. Ugh.
Molly
The water feels warm and melts my worries.
I don’t want to get out.
I could stay in here all day, hiding from the world.
I don’t even care anymore; this is the freest feeling surging through my veins I’ve ever felt, and I not only want to embrace it, but relish in it and savor each moment that I remain uncommitted to anything or anyone. I actually did put Owen out of my mind once I got in the bath.
You know that expression ‘no fucks to give?’ Well, that’s me. Look it up in a dictionary and you’ll see my face and submerged body in this tub right now.
I mean damn, even the taste in the air is different. Is that really possible? I think so, because I’m living it right now.
Don’t call me crazy or spastic. It’s called perspective, and I’m finally seeing it clearly for once in my fucking life.
I finally climb out of the tub and pat my skin dry. My chest feels lighter, and the weight of the world is fading fast from my memory.
No longer do I feel trapped or as if I’m collapsing on the brink of losing control. I’m not dramatic, I’m just pissed.
Well, maybe I’m not even angry anymore. The new me doesn’t care enough. No fucks to give, remember?
I lather lotion on my still-damp skin, moistening it until I’m radiantly glowing as I stare at my reflection in the mirror.
I may appear the same on the outside, but on the inside, big changes are festering and taking place in my mind and spirit.
I drape a white terry-cloth robe around my body and pull it closed tight around me, wrapping it nice and snug.
I walk to my living room to fetch the glass of water that I suddenly remember I left sitting on the coffee table
. It’s refreshing as I gulp it down, good to every last cool and savory drop.
I jump nearly a foot in the air as the doorbell rings inside of my apartment, scaring the living fucking daylights out of me.
Who the fuck is at my doorstep at this hour?
I clutch my robe tighter and head apprehensively to the front door.
I stare through the peep hole first, wanting to gauge who’s on the other side.
It’s too dark down the hallway for some reason. Should I open the door to reveal the visitor? The old me would probably say no, but the new me is too full of curiosity not to wonder.
I inhale sharply and whisk the door open in one fell swoop.
I’m shocked to see who’s on the other side.
“Hi, Molly, I hope it’s not too late to see you.”
“Owen?” I stand there, just staring at him and trying to comprehend what he’s doing here.
I notice his hand behind his back as he slowly pulls it forward to reveal an enormous amount of long-stemmed white roses in a perfect bouquet.
“These are for you,” he states softly, and pushes them towards me.
I take them, sniffing their flowery aroma. I can’t help it, their color symbolizes purity, and I feel a tug in my heart even though I should probably resist. No, I know I should resist.
“Thanks,” I say. “What is this for?” I have to grip the flowers with two hands because they’re so heavy.
Undoubtedly, I’m confused as ever.
“These roses are the beginning of the apology I want to give you,” Owen recites.
He’s wearing all black—black jeans, a black sweater and a black coat.
He clears his throat to begin what I assume will be a speech about his wrongdoings.
“Molly, I present these roses to you as a way to sincerely apologize,” he says.
So I’m right, I can sense these things. The guy in the dog house wants to come back inside.
“Molly, there are one hundred white roses here, and each one represents how truly sorry I am for hurting you.”
I don’t know why, but all I can do is stare blankly at him. I don’t have a reaction…not yet anyway.
“Can I come inside?” He gestures towards my living room.
I still can’t bring myself to speak, so I continue to stare a hole in the wall across from him.
