by May, Linnea
He stands with his back towards me, looking out the window. When he hears me footing through the archway that connects the hall with the living room, he turns around.
The smile that appears on his face once he sees me is more than I could have hoped for.
“You look stunning,” he assesses. “I had a feeling that this dress would look good on you, and I am glad it is what you decided to wear for me. It’s far more stunning than I expected.”
“Thank you,” I say. “For everything. You completely overdid-”
“It’s nothing,” he interrupts. “You know that money is not an issue for me. Why not try my best to make you feel comfortable?”
“Because we hardly know each other,” I point out.
He looks at me with one raised eyebrow. I walk closer to him until I am standing next to him, right in front of the floor-length panoramic window.
The view from up here is still fascinating, but also a little scary now that I am standing this close to the window.
“Which also reminds me,” I continue. “You still haven’t given me my purse back. Or my clothes.”
“Why do you need it?” He asks.
“Well, first of all, because those are my personal belongings,” I stress. “My wallet, my phone. I haven’t seen any of my stuff since last night.”
He nods. “I can assure you that all of it is still here.”
“Can’t you imagine that I would feel a lot better if I could at least see where it is?” I press.
He nods and gets closer to me. But instead of giving me a reply, he leans forward and pulls me in for a kiss. His lips on mine always have a tendency to make me forget about everything else around me. It works like a charm.
“I’ll show you,” he whispers. “Right after this.”
Before I can even think of protesting, he turns me around and orders me to place my hands on the window, my behind facing towards him while the city spreads out far below me - and somehow dangerously close.
I feel like I might fall through the window at any moment as my hands appear to hold on to nothing but thin and untrustworthy glass.
But all those fears are quickly cast aside when he lifts up my dress from behind, and I feel him enter my trembling center skin on skin for the first time.
Chapter Seventeen
I did eventually see my purse and all my belongings again, but not until I left his penthouse on Sunday evening. He never enlightened me on why he found it necessary to hide my things from me for that long.
“So you don’t get distracted,” was all he said when he handed them back to me. All except for the pantyhose that he had ripped on our first night together. Instead, I got a brand new pair of the same kind. I wasn’t even surprised when he gave them to me.
Now that I am sitting at my desk, back at work, trying to find a solution to a problem that I had been so happy to leave behind on Friday afternoon, it is hard believe that the last three days have not been a dream. After all, how could it be true?
I got back home around 6 pm last night and since then, I have been trying my best to cast it aside. To not make too much of the fact that he had not only invited me for drinks and a little fooling around on Friday night but had me stay over for the entire weekend. He was even showing reluctance when it finally came to the point where I absolutely had to leave.
He left town last night and had to catch a flight. His phone kept ringing a bunch of times throughout the day, and he made quite a few excuses. To me, it seemed as if he delayed his departure for my sake. But when I asked him about it, he wouldn’t give me an answer.
I don’t get him. He didn’t want to let me go and showed every sign that he genuinely enjoyed spending time with me. Yet, he refuses to give anything about himself away.
We spent so much time together, confined in an admittedly big penthouse, hugging the fire together. Even for a real couple, this could have been strenuous. But somehow, for us it wasn’t. It has been a long time for me since I spent this much time with another person, just the two of us. I don’t think I have ever felt this comfortable with anyone, especially not after only knowing them for a few hours.
Even the sex just got better with every single time - and there was plenty of it. After he ambushed me at the window, he hardly gave me time to rest and pulled me over to the couch. There, he sat me down and robbed me of my vision with a blindfold and forbade me to say another word until he would allow it. I had no idea what he had in mind while he let me sit on the couch, still wearing the dress he picked out for me, but naked underneath - and embarrassingly wet. I couldn’t see him nor hear him for a while, until he finally spoke from a few feet away. He gave me orders to position myself in certain ways and show him what he claimed now belonged to him. I am still uncertain about how much of what he said was just meant in a playful way - or if I should be getting worried…
“Renee!” my coworkers voices cuts into my daydreaming. “Would you please answer your phone!”
I look up at him, completely startled until I realize that my phone is indeed ringing. Judging from the faces of the three people who share an office with me, it has been doing that for quite a while.
I cast them an apologetic look while I reach for the phone. Of course, it is just another reminder that I should be working instead of daydreaming about the surreal weekend that lies behind me. The head developer of our current project inquires about the task that I was supposed to send him about an hour ago. I mean, it’s not like I am slacking off or anything. An hour late would be nothing noteworthy, usually. It’s just this guy, who knows that pestering the people who work for and with him can speed up the whole process by so much that we might actually make the deadline that was set by the client. Or at least come close to it.
After that wake-up call, I force myself to get some work done. Work is the perfect distraction, isn’t that what they say?
Well, whoever believes that might actually like their jobs. I, on the other hand, don’t care. I don’t care if we make the deadline, and I don’t care if the project ends up spectacular or just good enough. Good enough is usually what I shoot for.
But I also hate getting into trouble. At least when there’s no sweet punishment involved such as the ones I had received from Cedric.
I blush at the thought of him.
Oh yes, this weekend was real. You better believe it, Renee.
By the time our lunch break comes around, I have managed to send something to the project leader. I know it is not perfect, but I have been in this job for long enough to realize that there will be plenty of changes, no matter how perfect I think the draft I sent off has been. So why should I even bother to get it perfectly right on the first try anyways?
I follow the same group of people that I usually have lunch with - the bunch who shares an office with me and two girls from accounting who I am close enough with to be able to chit chat without feeling totally awkward. All of the guys in my office are men, as female software developers are still a minority by large. I don’t mind at all since it also comes with certain advantages, but I also enjoy the company of Sidney and Abby to ease this sausage fest from time to time.
Unfortunately, these two are also a lot more interested in my private life than my direct coworkers are. Of course, I am faced with the dreaded ‘How was your weekend’-question.
I gulp when Sidney phrases it at me, looking up at me with friendly and expectant eyes.
“Good,” I mumble. “Nothing special. Stayed home mostly.”
She chuckles. “Oh, I see. Just you and your Playstation again, huh.”
“Yeah,” I smile at her.
“You are such a nerd,” she claims. “So typical.”
“Whatever,” I say. “How was your weekend?”
While Sidney starts rambling about her own weekend - that included a street festival, a movie and picking out new furniture with her husband - I immerse myself in my secret daydreams again.
Compared to Cedric I do have the big advantage of be
ing of no interest to anyone. There is a certain image that people have of me - and it is mostly true. No one gets suspicious when I tell them I would spend my entire weekend in front of the TV playing video games or binge-watching TV shows. I don’t socialize often, and when I do it is usually thanks to Lesley or a forced office party where I have to present not to be impolite.
I enjoy the secrecy that surrounds my experience with Cedric almost as much as I enjoy him as a person. It is as if I was leading a double life. Like a spy.
I openly grin at the thought of it, but luckily Sidney is still too involved in the long tale of her busy weekend to notice.
There is just a tiny part of me that wishes I could at least tell Lesley. But I know that would be a bad idea. For one, she would hate me. Even though she does have a serious relationship and no actual reason to be jealous - or even the right to claim that I stole Cedric away from her or something - I know she would be furious. Especially after I made such a big deal about not being interested in him or his books and making fun of her for adoring him so much. It seems mean and arrogant even to me now, and I am ashamed of my actions.
Another thing is that he repeatedly told me to stay quiet about what has happened between us. Judging by his eager fanbase that I was lucky enough to witness last week, I can see why it would pose a problem for him to admit that he might not be as available as most of his female readers want him to be.
But there is also the fear that this was it. That he is just an insanely good charmer who didn’t want to spend his weekend in town by himself but was happy enough to find someone like me. Someone who is willing to play with him the way he enjoys it.
Someone he does not need to worry about falling in love with him.
After the intense time we spent together, I am not too sure about that second part. But no one - especially him - needs to know about that. I am not even fully willing to admit it to myself yet.
There is no reply from my project leader waiting for me by the time I return from my lunch break, which means that there is very little for me to do.
I apathetically surf around my usual sites on the internet. My coworkers all seem to be a lot busier than me - or they are just really good at acting.
Just as I start thinking about going home early today, my phone rings again. Suspecting that it is the head developer of my current project to give me a heads-up on the stuff I sent in earlier, I don’t check the tiny display before I pick it up and languidly murmur “Hello”.
“Hello, Renee.”
My eyes widen with surprise.
“Cedric!” I gasp. Way too loud. All of my coworkers turn their heads around, thinking that something terrible must have happened because my voice never reaches the height it just did.
I wave them off, trying to look cool and unfazed. Of course, I am neither.
“How did you get my number?” I ask.
I never told him my full name, let alone the company I work for. Sure, if he had either of those details, it would have been anything but sorcery to find out about this number. It is clearly stated on our website.
“How are you feeling?” he asks back, instead of giving me a reply.
Then it hits me. My purse. My wallet. He had demonstrated before that he did go through my stuff, by buying the same powder makeup that I was carrying with me.
“Did you go through my wallet?” I want to know.
“Smart girl,” he replies. “I just wanted to make sure that you wouldn’t slip through my fingers as soon as we parted.”
“You creep!” I hiss, once again attracting my coworkers attention. “You could have just asked - like a normal person!”
“I am not a normal person,” he points out. “You should know that by now.”
I am dumbfounded. Well, he does have a point there. “But still…”
“I wanted to know how you are feeling, Renee,” he repeats his question. “I need to know that you are okay.”
“Why would I not be okay?” I bark back at him.
“Because, apparently I am a creep who freaks you out,” he explains. “And the things I did to you might have been a little too much.”
He pauses and waits for a reply from my side.
“It’s okay,” I whisper.
It’s okay? What kind of an answer is that?
“Okay enough for you to see me again?” he asks.
“I don’t even know where you are at the moment,” I mention. “You never told me where you were off to, just that you had to leave.”
I hear him chuckle at the other end. “You don’t need to know. I am not in town right now, but I will be back soon.”
“Mhm,” I reply.
“I am thinking about buying the penthouse,” he adds. “There are so many good memories attached to it now, don’t you think?”
I blush. He cannot possibly be serious about this? What is up with this man?
“Cedric,” I whisper. “You really need to let me in on a few things, before I-”
“I will,” he promises. “Just tell me. Will you be free two weeks from now? I would want you for an entire weekend again.”
“Two weeks?” I breathe. It is going to be two weeks until I can see him again?
That sounds so awfully long right now.
“Yes,” he confirms. “I’m sorry I cannot make it any earlier. So, are you free?”
Of course, I am. But do I want to make it this easy for him? To just be available whenever he wants me?
Then again, I am punishing myself just as much as him by saying no and not in a sweet way. My pulse accelerates just at the thought of being with him again. I cannot imagine a time in my life where my emotions have been in such uproar.
I don’t want to lose this feeling. Not if I don’t have to.
“Yes, I am,” I announce.
“I am glad to hear that,” he says. “You are such a good girl.”
My heart makes a childish leap at the expression. He knows that I am at work, why would he do this to me?
“Now, this is going to be a long wait,” he adds.
“For you and me both,” I whisper, hoping that my coworkers are occupied enough to miss my conversation with him.
A quick glance around the room suggests that none of them is paying any attention to me. All of them are wearing headphones. We all do that most of the time. It is one of the perks of this job that there is very little interaction with other people and the possibility to listen to music while we are coding. I cannot count on them listening to anything right now, though. Often enough, we just wear our headphones not to be disrupted or spoken to.
“You know,” Cedric continues. “There is something that would make this wait easier.”
“What do you mean?”
“I would like you to do something for me,” he says. “I want you to go to the bathroom right now and take off your panties.”
“Excuse me?!” I exclaim.
Of course, heads are turning towards me again.
“I want you to put the phone aside without hanging up, go to the bathroom and take off your panties,” Cedric repeats in a calm and definitive tone. “Then I want you to walk back to your seat with your panties in your hand and continue talking to me.”
“Are you insane?” I hiss. “I am supposed to be work-”
“Now!” he interrupts.
I freeze and gaze into space, unable to process what is happening. My heart is racing. I can feel the heat of my blushing cheeks against my hand that is holding the phone up to my face.
And there is something else.
A warm and familiar tingling between my legs.
“Yes, Sir,” I whisper.
Without awaiting his reply, I put the phone aside and get up from my seat to make my way to the bathroom.
Chapter Eighteen
His phone call made the memory of my weekend a lot realer than it seemed to be before midday.
It is still vivid even now while I am jogging next to my oblivious best friend. Lesley has been
chatting on about a fantastic picnic she had with her boyfriend during the weekend. I know that she is generally happy with her relationship, but today she is especially cheery. It eases my guilty conscience tremendously.
I have a feeling that it is only a matter of time before these two finally get married. I am surprised that it hasn’t happened yet, but that might just be because Lesley loves to rebel against social expectations. Not getting married to her long-term boyfriend, even though they are both approaching their late twenties, is just one of many ways for her to keep her family off-balance.
I almost admire her for her stubbornness in this matter, because I know deep down she is dreaming of all those things. The perfectly romantic wedding ceremony, a bright white dress, children. I would be surprised if none of that ever happens for her.
But of course, it is only a matter of time before she drops the question on me that I have been dreading all day.
“So, how was your weekend?”
I provide her with the same answer I gave to my coworkers. But Lesley wouldn’t be Lesley if she didn’t notice that I am hiding something. She not only knows me very well but has an almost eerie intuition when it comes to people’s feelings.
Just like Cedric, she is an expert in detecting lies.
Or I am just terribly bad at lying.
“Home all weekend, huh,” she says, glancing at me from the side. “Why do I feel like that is not entirely true?”
I shrug without looking at her while we pass through the entrance of a nearby park that has become our usual running course after both of us moved to the neighborhood.
We have only been running for about ten minutes, so I cannot blame exhaustion for not wanting to talk right now.
Instead, I focus the ground in front of us, paying excessive attention to my steps.
“You know, you always do that,” Lesley points out. “You look down and away from me when you’re trying to hide something.”
“Yeah right!” I retort.
“It is right!” she insists. “It usually has to do with a guy you don’t want to tell me about. For whatever reason.”
