by P. G. Forte
Claire was nowhere in sight when I got to the studio. Rather than waste time wondering where she might be, I buried myself in my work. I made such great progress I had all but finished by the time she appeared looking red faced and breathing hard.
“What have you been doing?” I couldn’t help asking, upon noticing her condition.
She downed half a bottle of water before panting. “Exercise.”
“More Capoeria?” I not-quite joked.
She shook her head and drank the rest of the water. “Derek.”
She’d been doing Derek? “Ah.” Great. Even better. “So he’s his own form of exercise now?”
Eyes twinkling, she grinned appreciatively. “Well, I’m sure he’d like to think so. I sat in on one of his infamous yoga classes.”
“Oh.” I forced myself back to work, hoping the simplicity of the task would prove soothing. But the questions in my head were not so easily quelled. Finally, I had to ask. “So how come?”
Claire glanced up questioningly from her own work. “How come what?”
“This sudden resurgence of interest. All these exercise classes you’re taking...”
“It shows?” Her expression dismayed, she looked down at her body. “I know I was slacking off these past few months, but I didn’t think it was noticeable.”
I sighed. “Of course it’s not noticeable.” Not in the way she meant. How did one say, I notice everything you do, without sounding a little too obsessed?
When I first met Claire, she’d been a regular in Derek’s classes. Every Thursday, from what I observed. And several more times each week, from what I intuited from our conversations.
As far as I could tell, she’d dropped them all when she and Derek parted company. The fact that she’d started up again now, so soon after taking up with me--That couldn’t be coincidence, could it?
Aware that she was still gazing at me inquiringly, I shrugged. “I just wondered.”
“Well, I don’t know,” she answered, looking almost puzzled. “I guess it seemed like time.” Which was as good as saying nothing at all.
She’s perfectly free to do as she pleases, I reminded myself. And if she wants to spend every spare, waking moment with her former lover, who are you to complain?
Maybe she was making another play for him. So what? No matter how foolish I thought it, no matter how angry it made me, as no more than a friend, I could say nothing.
In fact, unless she were somehow using me to accomplish her goal, unless she’d taken up with me for no other reason than to make him jealous--and unless I could prove that was the case--
But, no. I would not think like that. It insulted us both and, besides, I was not about to be jealous. Although, if it turned out she preferred some steroid-enhanced, muscle-bound, wet-behind-the-ears exercise instructor to me...
“Well, I’m done here,” I said, as I closed the books and began to clear my desk.
Claire’s eyes widened. “So soon?”
I shoved the papers into my briefcase. “Not that much to do today. I was just finishing up what was left from last week, remember?”
“Oh, I remember, all right,” she said, smiling suggestively, lighting me up with just a look.
As I felt my body tighten, I frowned crossly. It really wasn’t fair that she should have this effect on me. I remembered last week too. I remembered how incredibly hot she’d been. How badly I’d wanted her then, still did now, probably always would. How she’d left the door unlocked...
I felt the color drain from my face.
“Is something wrong?” Claire asked, not smiling at all now.
How she’d left the door unlocked so that anyone could have walked right in...
“No,” I said, trying to disguise the sudden disorientation I was feeling, the sense of not knowing which way was up. I stood and reached for my briefcase. “Nothing at all.”
So that anyone could have walked right in...
Her eyes widened. “You’re leaving?”
I gazed at her helplessly, feeling lost, feeling torn. “No sense in hanging around, is there? I mean, you’re busy and... and...”
Anyone. Like Derek.
“Well, would you like to do something later?”
“Like what?” I snapped. That had to be the world’s stupidest question. Dinner? Sex? Dinner and sex? Given the parameters she’d set for us, that was pretty much all the options we had. Which should have been enough. More than enough. Which should have been fantastic. For the life of me, I couldn’t have explained why it wasn’t. I shook my head. “Maybe another time.”
Claire’s eyes narrowed. “Something is wrong. What?””
I opened my mouth to deny it again, but what would another lie accomplish? “Why’d you leave the door unlocked last week?” I asked, instead.
“What?” Red flags appeared on her cheeks. “Wh--why? What are you suggesting?”
“Did you want to get ‘caught’, is that it? Were you hoping someone would walk in and see us?”
Claire’s mouth dropped open. She looked shocked, almost stricken. For a moment, I let myself believe I’d been wrong. But no. There was too much awareness, too much guilt in her gaze for her to claim ignorance. I felt my heart sink.
“Why me, Claire? There’s something like six billion people on this planet, why’d you pick me to sleep with? Was there anything about me that attracted you other than proximity? Or was that it? Did I just get lucky because I happened to be in the right place at the right time?”
In the time it took her to blink once, the bruised look in her eyes was replaced with one of absolute fury. “Let me get this straight,” she snarled, getting slowly to her feet and planting her fists on her desk. “You’re upset with me because I slept with you? Is that what I’m hearing?”
“No, that’s not what I meant. Stop twisting things around.” But she rode right over me.
“Why, Mike? What’s the problem? Did I use you? Or manipulate you into bed? Did I take advantage of you in some fashion?”
“Cut it out, Claire.”
“What next?” she continued blithely, ignoring the warning in my tone. “Are you gonna claim sexual harassment? Or maybe you’ll just sell your story to the tabloids?”
“You know what I’m talking about,” I insisted, growing angrier by the second. If she’s smart, I thought, she’ll stop this now. She didn’t.
Instead, she smiled spitefully. “Actually, I don’t. But, if you want some free advice, I’d try the tabloids first, if I were you. They’ll publish any old shit. Harassment might be a little too hard for you to prove, especially considering how many times you thanked me.”
“All right, that’s enough!” It stung, hearing my words thrown back at me like that. I stormed over to where she stood. Unfortunately, I didn’t think to drop my briefcase first. As tightly as I had gripped the handle, I’m not sure I could have dropped it. Furious, I slammed the case down on the desktop. The sound of it echoed off the walls. Claire didn’t so much as flinch.
“Enough, Mike?” Her eyebrows rose. Her voice did the same. “Oh, I don’t think so. I’ll decide when I’ve said enough. How dare you come in here, blustering like an old fool, accusing me of... of... of what exactly?”
“I haven’t accused you of anything,” I roared in reply.
“Oh, no?”
“No! All I want is an explanation. And I think you owe me that much.”
“An explanation for what?” she asked, her tone continuing to rise with every word.
“Why are you with me?” I repeated. “What kind of game are you playing here, anyway?”
“Games?” Claire glared at me wide-eyed. In the silence that followed, the sound of someone tapping softly on the office door could be clearly heard. We both ignored it. “You’re the one who likes to play games, Mike. And, as for why I picked you, I--I... I don’t know!”
“You don’t know?” My eyes felt like they might bulge out of my head. I could not believe my ears.
The doo
r was edged open. “Excuse me,” a man’s voice murmured. We ignored that, too.
“What the hell does that mean?” I demanded. “How can you not know?”
“Easily.” Claire tossed her head. “The way you’re acting right now? I can’t imagine what I was thinking. Other than I must have been out of my fucking mind!”
“Claire!” the voice rapped out, sharper this time, louder. Derek’s voice.
Claire rounded on him angrily. “Well? What is it?”
“I have a class starting in just under five minutes,” Derek announced, barely controlled fury evident in his voice and in every line and muscle of his body.
“And?” she snapped impatiently, eyes flashing, when he paused.
“And that wall,” Derek growled with a nod toward the glass behind Claire’s desk. “Is not sound proof.” He glanced at us both and then focused his attention on Claire once again. “So you might want to keep it down up here. Capesce?”
“Oh, crap.” The color drained from Claire’s face and she collapsed into her chair. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Shit.”
Watching her I felt sick. Not because we’d been overheard, I couldn’t care less about that. But I could not believe I’d been yelling at her. I could not believe it had all gone to hell. I could not believe Derek’s was the lone voice of reason.
“Is everything all right?” he asked, eyes still trained on Claire’s face.
She nodded mutely, then her gaze met mine.
The tragic look in her beautiful eyes tore at my heartstrings I opened my mouth to apologize; to say something--anything I could think of--anything that might help to erase that look. But Derek’s next words put an end to that.
“You want him to leave?” His voice was flat, cold; the implication clear. At her word, I was gone. Either I’d leave on my own, or he’d make me go.
“Don’t bother,” I said, my gaze still locked with Claire’s. “I’m going.”
“Mike,” she murmured softly. “Don’t.”
But I shook my head. “If you ever do come up with an answer, Claire, maybe you’ll give me a call and let me know.”
Then I turned and left. I’d reached my car before I realized I’d left my briefcase behind. There was no way I was going back to retrieve it, however. Not until we’d both had a chance to cool down.
* * * *
Claire
After Mike left, Derek quietly closed the door behind him. Then he came and sat down by my desk. “So,” he said, in a voice that strove to be conversational. “What was that all about?”
“I don’t know,” I replied, sighing tiredly. I thought I knew--back in the beginning, when Mike had started ranting about the door, about my wanting to be seen. In his words I heard the echo of all the sordid accusations that had been thrown at me over the years:
“You liked it, didn’t you? Putting out for the camera. Your body exposed, your sex on display. All those men watching you, touching you, drooling over you. I bet you needed that. Isn’t that so, Claire? Isn’t that what you really want, what you need to get off? Isn’t that why you can’t make it with me, why I don’t do it for you?”
Well, of course it wasn’t. And as for liking it? No. In the beginning, it made me sick. Each and every time. But I got used to it. I learned.
It wasn’t really me, after all. That girl on the screen, making love to a room full of strangers, she’d just been using my body to tell her story.
“Claire?” Derek’s voice penetrated my thoughts.
I glanced up at him. “Hmm?”
“I said, are you all right?”
I nodded. “I think so. Maybe.” I’d overreacted. I could see that now. Flicked on the raw, I’d jumped to conclusions. Stupid. I’d been stupid. “It was just a little misunderstanding.”
“It sounded like it was a little more than that,” Derek answered dryly.
“Not really.” I shrugged. “People argue, Derek. They get upset. They say things they don’t mean.”
“We didn’t.”
“No,” I agreed. “We didn’t.” Not like that. Then again, what would we have argued about? I glanced at the clock on the wall. “I thought you had a class?”
Derek nodded. “I do. But they can wait.”
I stared at him, almost speechless with surprise. “They can what?”
He shrugged. “It’s not gonna kill them to warm up for a few extra minutes. If you need to talk, they can wait.”
“Thank you,” I said, smiling at the gesture. “But you should get down there. I just need to figure a few things out, that’s all.”
“Well, that’s for certain,” he said as he got to his feet. He glanced at the briefcase Mike had forgotten. “Want me to take that downstairs, leave it at the front desk?”
“No, that’s okay,” I said quickly, laying a hand on the worn leather.
Derek shook his head in disapproval. “All right. If you say so.”
“Thanks,” I repeated, continuing to smile until the door closed behind him.
My hand absently stroked the leather briefcase. Mike’s voice and the anguish in his eyes haunted me.
Why me, Claire? Was there anything about me that attracted you?
How did you answer a question like that? Why would he even ask it? I slid the case closer, turning it ‘til I could grip the handle. I imagined Mike’s hand clenched here, holding it just so... as though I could somehow intuit what he’d been thinking.
A few minutes later, a burst of applause from the studio below drew my attention. I got up and glanced through the glass. Derek was on the floor doing push-ups. One handed. While a bevy of leotard-clad women looked on, cheering and counting. It wasn’t hard to imagine what that was all about. He always exacted a penalty for lateness. No doubt his students had decided to do the same to him.
I suppose I should have felt just slightly guilty about that, but I didn’t. A couple dozen extra push-ups wouldn’t do him any harm. In fact, he was probably enjoying himself.
“Show off,” I muttered affectionately, watching until, his penance completed, he jumped to his feet. He wasn’t even out of breath.
“All right, let’s go.” He clapped his hands together briskly. “Places, everyone.”
As Derek’s class scurried into position, I went back to my desk. Without doubt his biceps, freshly pumped and lightly sheened with sweat, would be compelling his students to make an extra effort today. They’d probably exert twice as much energy as usual in an attempt to impress him.
Just as I would have once.
I thought about that for a moment, remembering how Derek’s arms had felt locked around me. How they’d supported me while I balanced above him. How they’d caged me while I lay below him. They’d felt nice. Damned nice, in fact. But, strangely, I felt no sense of loss, no pang of regret.
Nice, yes, but nothing I couldn’t live without. Whereas Mike...
He wasn’t hot or flashy or young. He wasn’t influential or connected. He wasn’t wealthy--certainly not by Hollywood standards. He wasn’t... oh, so many of the things I’d looked for in a man over the years.
Maybe I’d been looking for too many of the wrong things?
“You old fool,” I muttered as I stored his briefcase out of sight beneath my desk. “I wonder how long it’ll take you to miss me.”
* * * *
In the end, I gave him twenty-four hours. For most of the first twelve, I was sure he’d call; sheepish, penitent, eager to reconcile. Of course, for most of that same time, I was asleep and likely dreaming. By noon I’d resigned myself to the reality.
Obviously, if anyone was going to fix things between us, if would have to be me.
Chapter Ten
Mike
I was surprised to find Claire waiting for me when I got home from work Friday evening. Surprised and more than a little confused by her care-free smile, by the relaxed way she leaned against the side of her little white Lexus convertible, by... Oh, hell, let’s face it. I’d been nothing but confused for three full wee
ks now.
The only difference was that now I was angry, too. You don’t know what the woman wants, I reminded myself. Could be she’s just toying with you.
Frowning cautiously, I got out of my car and walked over to where she stood waiting for me. She was dressed all in white--to match her car, I supposed--in a snug, white tank top that made it almost impossible not to stare at her chest and slim, white pants that molded to her body and ensured that her breasts were only the first things you noticed.
“Hello, lover,” she said cheerfully. “Miss me?”
I had, of course. But there was no way I’d admit it. “Claire. What are you doing here?”
Her lips pursed in a little moue as she slid her hands up my chest and over my shoulders. “Now, what kind of greeting is that?” she pouted, dismissing my query in turn. My hands found their way to her hips--and I’d swear it was of their own volition--even as she locked hers behind my neck. Then she hit me with her best come-hither gaze, her softest murmur, her most inviting smile. “Well?”
Fool that I am, I caved, giving her what I knew she wanted, kissing her for all I was worth. My fingers tightened on her flesh and, at their slightest urging, she willingly canted her hips into mine.
Her lips parted, inviting me in, and I was unable to resist. I deepened the kiss, plunging my tongue into her mouth, thrilling to the sweet play of her nails along my nape. A growl emerged from my throat and I tugged her closer, banding her against me. Another moment and I think I would have taken her right there in the drive.
“Mmm. That’s better,” she purred, smiling slyly as she disengaged.
“What are you doing here?” I repeated stubbornly, when I could speak again.
Claire sighed. “Is that all you can think to say?” Twisting around, she reached into the car behind her. “Here.” She lifted my briefcase from behind her seat and presented it to me. “If you must know, I thought you might want this back.”
My hands reached automatically to take it. “Thank you,” I muttered, partially in dismay. “You didn’t have to do that.” In fact, I kind of wished she hadn’t as I’d planned on using its retrieval as a pretext for seeing her on Monday.
