Arousal

by Simone Sowood

  Armed with coffee and a doughnut, I sit on my sofa. I keep a laptop dedicated to the charity under the sofa, and I haul it out and set it on my lap. If I used my regular laptop, I know I would alt-tab into Knight Global Events and get sucked in. So I use this Macbook to keep me focused.

  The first thing I do is open YouTube.

  I chew my doughnut while half-watching the most recent Carpool Karaoke videos, the entire time thinking about Liam. Or more specifically, how amazing it had felt when he kissed me.

  I take another bite, and the jelly from the center shoots into my mouth. I let it slide over my tongue before swallowing.

  My shoulders heave in a massive sigh. Time to focus. I start my Mega Hits Four playlist and open my email and Office.

  Twelve emails from Kirsten. None from anyone else.

  I founded the charity, but set it up to run independently of me. Now legally I’m the chair of the board of trustees. My father is also on the board, mostly because I know he doesn’t care about it and won’t have an opinion on any decisions.

  My best friend Kirsten is the head of the charity and runs almost everything about it. We’re still on the small side, but she’s doing an amazing job of growing it. We’re helping more and more families every single day. I’m immensely proud of her and all of the team around her.

  Heart disease is one of the biggest killers of young adults, but people associate heart attacks with old people, not healthy teens and young adults.

  Ideally, I’d like to run more awareness campaigns, but for now we’re focusing on directly helping families who are adjusting to having someone they love who’s surviving a heart issue, and those who have lost someone young to heart disease in their life.

  I click through Kirsten’s emails one by one. So far they’re all standard emails to keep me in the loop of what’s happening. The last one catches my attention. Our biggest annual donor has slashed their support by eighty percent, saying they intend to focus solely on heart issues in the under sixteens.

  My heart sinks. They make up almost a third of all our donations. Without their support we’ll have to postpone any ideas of growing and really think about how we’re going to preserve what support we do have.

  Awareness around the age range of the people we help is a constant struggle. People either want to help children or the stereotypical older heart victims. The unique struggles of young adults get lost in between.

  We’ll find someone to take the place of the donor. We have to.

  I save the spreadsheets onto my computer, update my own spreadsheets and make some notes in Word.

  One of the things we’re currently redoing is our website. I open it to see how it’s coming along. It’s a project that will likely have to be shelved for now. We’ve been putting victim and survivor stories right on the homepage in a slide show, and the first victim I see when I open it is a twenty-year-old man named Liam.

  Seeing the name makes my heart stop, and for a moment I see Liam’s face on the screen instead of the teenager whose life was so cruelly taken from him.

  I close the lid and take a few breaths to gather myself. I drink the rest of my coffee to steady myself. Once I’ve calmed enough, I pick up my phone and call Kirsten.

  “Hey. Are doing your Sunday morning ritual of trolling through my emails?”

  “You know it. What are we going to do without the support of the Colton Family Legacy Fund?”

  “It’s not going to be easy, but we’re busting our asses to find someone to plug the hole.” Kirsten goes on to describe in great detail of what they’re doing. She’s great.

  “You’re doing an amazing job.”

  “Thanks, hon. I sense a but coming.”

  “Nope. No but, I promise.”

  “I sense something else in your voice. Everything all right? Your dad still being an ass at work?” she asks.

  I sigh. “Always and forever.”

  “You could always quit and come on the charity full time. We could use another fundraiser.”

  “Ha, then I’d have to fire you, and I don’t want to kick you out on the street.” We both laugh before I continue. “Besides, I could never do as good a job as you are.”

  “Aw, you’re too sweet. For a hard-ass boss that is. So enough of this BS. Spill.”

  “You know how my father’s constant nagging me to get a boyfriend?”

  “A sentiment I share, yes. It’s the only thing I agree with him about, but dammit, he’s right,” Kirsten says, exasperated.

  I roll my eyes and sigh. I knew I should’ve left that part out.

  “Anyway,” I start.

  “Oh, I’m not finished yet, sugar. I’m serious. You are the charity’s biggest failure. Because if we can’t even heal our founder, what kind of credibility do we have?”

  “I don’t need healing, I am fine,” I say, my teeth gritted.

  “Whatever.”

  “Yeah, whatever. Do you want to hear my crazy story or not?”

  “Of course I do. The same way I want to hear you admit you need healing.”

  “Not gonna happen, so drop it. And I won’t even bother to tell you about Liam.”

  “Liam? Who’s Liam?”

  “My pretend boyfriend.”

  Once Kirsten stops squealing, I tell her the story of Liam. Leaving out the part about me unsuccessfully Googling him.

  Or masturbating to the memory of his face, his touch and his scent.

  “Oh my God. That is the most fucked-up story I’ve ever heard. He really just stood up and left?”

  “I know, right? I guess he got tired of listening to me and my father arguing.”

  “How do you put up with him? You really need to break free. I mean it. Go apply for other jobs. You’d find an even better one in a heartbeat. One without an asshole boss.”

  “He’s not an asshole, just my dad.” Why am I defending him? “I could never leave him, it’s our family business, how could I?”

  “How could you? You could to save yourself the grief. This is your life. You get one. Why do you want to spend it arguing with him?”

  “It’s my duty. You don’t understand.”

  “No, but I totally understand why Declan took off to Africa.” Kirsten says.

  She has a point, I also totally understand why my brother left. If anything, my father was even harder on him. Actually, that’s what made it easier for me, seeing that I wasn’t the person he treated the worst.

  “No kidding.”

  “Anyhoo, back to Liam. How are we going to find him?” she asks.

  “We’re not.”

  “We have to! There must be a way.”

  “I might have tried already. He’s not on the internet.”

  “You tried? I’m impressed. Maybe you’re healing after all.”

  “I wasn’t trying to find him for a relationship, just a date. You know, just the two of us, without my father.”

  “Yeah, yeah, baby steps. Let’s think. He was at the Fat Kok, maybe he goes there regularly. We just have to eat there every night until he turns up.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Maybe I could put a ‘Liam, please call me’ poster with my photo on it at the door too. And of all the doors of nearby restaurants. He’d be bound to see it.”

  “Now you’re talking!”

  “Do you hear yourself?”

  “So, dinner at the Fat Kok tomorrow night?”

  “He’s a fond memory, that’s all.”

  And that memory is fading fast, I have to end this phone call and go capture his essence right now.

  Deal Struck (Darcy)

  I slink into my office on Monday morning, looking both ways around every corner to make sure my father is nowhere in sight. As soon as I’m through my office door, I lock it.

  Aside from the fact I hate Mondays, and I’ve only had three cups of coffee, I was up half the night and I’m extra grumpy. It started out great with me, ahem, picturing Liam’s gorgeous face and remembering the feel of his lips against mine.

/>   After the initial, um, release, my mind wandered through the evening until I reached the question of why he left. Which fueled my anger at my father and kept me up until three.

  If there’s one thing I need, it’s sleep. Not having enough makes me a seething mess to begin with. But if my lack of sleep is from anger, then watch out whomever I’m angry at. Which, more often than not, is my father.

  Kirsten’s right. Maybe I should find another job. One where the people appreciate me, and listen to my ideas. Plus if I left, my father would have to take a good, long look in the mirror about how he treats me. He lost his son due to his douchebagness, if he’s not careful he’s going to lose his daughter the same way.

  Fuck it. I sit down at my desk, take a big gulp of coffee, and pull up the contact details for the recruitment firm I use to hire people. My contact there would jump at the chance to earn some commission from placing me somewhere.

  I can’t wait to see the look on my father’s face when I tell him ‘I quit.’ Already, my shoulders feel lighter and I sit up a little straighter.

  I pick up my desk phone and cradled it with my shoulder. I press nine to dial out, but don’t hear the dial tone.

  “Hello,” a man’s voice says, richer and mellower than the coffee still in my mouth.

  I swallow the coffee, racking my brains as the voice stirs a memory.

  “Hello?” Huh? Did someone call me exactly as I tried to call out?

  “Hi, is that Darcy Knight?” It’s Liam, I can tell by the way he said my name. It’s him, I’m sure of it. Or am I dreaming?

  “Speaking.”

  “It’s Liam. From the Fat Kok. Remember?”

  “I remember. It’s not every Friday I introduce my pretend boyfriend to my father. How did you find me?” I can’t believe he found me. He looked me up.

  “I knew where you work. We talked fairly extensively about it.”

  “Oh right, of course.” What a stupid question, I can’t believe I asked it.

  “Listen, I wanted to apologize for the way I left Friday night. The phone call was an emergency and I had to go straight away. Sorry about that.”

  “And here I thought my father drove you away.”

  He laughs and says, “Your father would drive any man away.”

  “And yet he wonders why I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  “You don’t have a boyfriend?”

  “No, why would I have needed a pretend boyfriend if I had a real one?”

  “I don’t know. I figured he chickened out of meeting your father.”

  “That would be understandable.”

  “Is your father the reason you don’t have a boyfriend?”

  “Did you phone to give me the third degree?” I wouldn’t mind him giving me the third degree. My cheeks flush as I imagine him putting me over his knee.

  “I phoned because I have a proposition.” A proposition? Holy shit, that sounds like a weird sex contract thing. Maybe he does want to put me over his knee.

  “Oh, what sort of proposition?” I ask, my voice far too breathy for this time of day.

  “I was thinking about your wedding.”

  “About my wedding?” I interrupt.

  “The one in your family, is it your cousin’s? Anyway, I have an event I need a plus one for in a couple of weeks, and I thought we could do an exchange. An I’ll-go-to-yours-if-you-go-to-mine sort of thing. Unless, of course, you’re going to the chocolate thing.”

  “Chocolate thing? No, I’m not going to the chocolate exposition.” Not anymore, anyway.

  “So, do we have a deal?”

  “Sounds great, I’m really glad you asked. Solves a lot of my problems.” Not my family one, Collette really grates on me, I had no intention on going. But I am now, if that’s what it takes to see Liam again.

  The Motions (Liam)

  I flick out of my phone’s email to read the text that’s just come through from Darcy.

  -It’s not too late to back out, you know

  I never back out of a deal

  -OK but don’t say I didn’t warn you

  I’ve already met your father. Remember

  -But you haven’t met the rest of my family

  I’m sure they’re just as charming as you

  -In their dreams

  Realizing how much I’m looking forward to seeing her again, I finish getting ready. I don’t remember the last time I’ve been so eager to see someone.

  The wedding is at three at a golf club in New Jersey, so we arranged to meet at a coffee shop so we can arrive together.

  Arriving early, I grip the grimy door handle and enter.

  A quick scan of the coffee shop shows me I’ve arrived before Darcy. Not liking the hipster vibe, I decide to wait on the street.

  I pull out my phone and busy myself by responding to the never ending onslaught of emails, either as William or Bill or Liam Jones. I have to keep track of which name I use with which company in my head.

  A cab pulls up, and Darcy emerges from the back and my heart skips. She’s wearing a dark pink dress that hugs her curves in all the right places. For a moment, all I can do is stand and stare at her beauty. She, in turn, stares at me. I wonder if she can tell my suit is custom made from a Savile Row tailor I have flown in from London twice a year.

  Our eyes meet, and I feel the same shudder of attraction I’d felt at the restaurant. I don’t know what it is about Darcy, but she’s different. I’m used to being surrounded by beautiful women, but this isn’t something I’ve experienced before. And I don’t like that it makes me want to abandon my rules and tell her everything. Almost everything.

  “Sorry, I’m late. I hope you haven’t been here long,” she says, her voice soft and heavenly. I check my watch, I’ve been standing here for twenty minutes but didn’t notice, I’ve been too focused on the emails.

  “No worries. I had some work to catch up on anyway.”

  “On the street? Why didn’t you wait inside?”

  “Hello,” I say ignoring the comment and stepping toward her. I kiss her cheek and breathing in the scent of her perfume. Jasmine, I think. “It’s good to finally see you again. You look stunning.”

  “And you too. It’s good to see you again. On what will hopefully but unlikely be less crazy circumstances.” A nervous smile spreads across her face, making me want to draw her into me and hold her. But I don’t, it’s too forward and unlike most of the women I see, I don’t want to scare her off.

  “I can tell you really like your family,” I say.

  “I like them just fine, when I don’t have to be in the same room as them.”

  Her cab is waiting for us and I climb into the backseat beside her.

  “Thanks for doing this,” she says as we drive off.

  “Thanks in advance for coming to my event.” I raise my eyebrows and grab her hand, resisting the urge to bring it to my lips. I still haven’t decided what event to take her to.

  Darcy looks at me, her lips a natural smile that I want to run my tongue along. Seated, her dress has slid up past her mid-thigh. She’s not wearing nylons and I struggle to keep from reaching out and touching her shapely legs. I keep my gaze on them though, imaging what it would feel like to have them wrapped around my head as I feast on her pussy.

  As we arrive at the golf course, both Darcy and I pull cash out to pay the man.

  “I’ve got it,” I say.

  “No, this is my event. I’m paying.” She says it with such authority in her voice that I put my money away. I’m liking her more by the minute. Although she doesn’t know how much money I have yet. Would that have influenced her decision to pay?

  I offer her my arm, and she loops hers through mine. The closeness creates a vibration through my body. We stroll into the venue, which is already busy with people.

  It’s nice in here, very bright and white with lots of purple flowers. This was a good purchase, just one of my many investments, but I don’t let anything on to Darcy.

  An usher leads us d
own the aisle to a spot near the front. As we walk, I’m conscious all eyes are on us. I smile, determined to convince everyone here that I’m Darcy’s boyfriend.

  The people behind us speak in hushed whispers, and it’s no secret they are talking about Darcy. Once seated, I drape my arm around her and draw her close to me. She tenses but I squeeze her shoulder and she relaxes. I’d like to say the action was a show for our audience, but really I couldn’t go any longer without touching her.

  A piano starts with a few bars of “Here Comes the Bride” and a hush comes over the room. Everyone stands and faces the back of the room. Reluctantly, I remove my arm from Darcy and clasp my hands in front of me.

  My eyes glaze over during the ceremony. Weddings really aren’t my thing. Instead, I picture what I’m going to do to Darcy later tonight.

  Everyone stands again and I follow suit. Relief washes over me when the bride and groom walk back down the aisle and leave the room. Everyone else is clapping and cheering. Darcy looks up at me and our eyes lock again, and I get lost in them. It’s like I could dive right into her blue irises and be home.

  We follow the crowd into the adjacent room. Another bright room with big picture windows and round tables arranged around a central dance floor. Again, huge arrangements of purple flowers adorn the tables and are dotted around the room, reconfirming what a great decision I made to invest in this golf course.

  “Before you ask, I’m not going anywhere near that receiving line,” she says.

  “Fine with me, I’d rather stay here and talk to you.” I could listen to the sound of her sweet voice all day long.

  A waiter walks by with a tray of Champagne flutes. I pluck two from it and pass one to Darcy.

  “Cheers,” I say and clink her glass.

  “Cheers,” she says, flashing a natural smile that electrifies me. I’d like to tell her we should clear out of here right now, but realize that wouldn’t be living up to my end of the bargain I struck with her.

  “Liam, my daughter looks great on your arm,” Timothy says walking up to us. Darcy’s nose twitches, and I realize she’s fighting a snarl.