Love In Rewind

by Tali Alexander

  "Emily, you're dreaming of a man and you can't even look at a dildo? What happens when some guy whips out his dick and says 'touch it'? We're buying this vibrating dick and you're going to pretend it's your new best friend. This pink penis will know you better than you know yourself," she said, as we made our way to pimply-faced guy at the counter. We still had to pay and take home my new handheld best friend without me fainting of embarrassment.

  I remember one morning when my house was weirdly quiet. Both parents were at work and the housekeeper was running errands. I quickly ran upstairs as if I were being chased. I locked the door to my room and leaped towards my bed. My brain was way ahead of my actions. I removed my pajamas and panties and before I lay down on my fluffy bed I put one of my favorite songs on. The song I always imagined would play in the background while I was making love for the first time. Berlin filled my room with their song, Take My Breath Away.

  Once I closed my eyes I didn't need to imagine Maverick—a.k.a. Tom Cruise—in my bed. I had a much better stand-in in mind. It was him touching me and not my own hands. He was the one slowly running his fingers down the valley between my aching breasts. He was the one slipping his fingers into my wet core. Since no one was home I moaned as loudly as I wanted. "Oh, yes, please don't stop. God, I want you so much." A delicious feeling spread through my body. I didn't need a vibrator that morning. I just needed me, him, and Berlin. I harshly pumped my fingers in and out of my clenching hole at a frantic pace. All I could feel was him. All I could taste was him. It was all him, him, HIM. "God, I'm coming … oh God, I'm coming!" The song wasn't even halfway through and I was already a wet limbless mess thanks to HIM. I was begging my gorgeous apparition to stay with me and cuddle me forever. But my phantom always left me silently…

  I had to find him, just so I could sharpen the fuzzy image I had of him and improve my erotic fantasies. I started doing research into finding and getting another glance at my dream boyfriend. I knew his first and last name because I'd overheard my sister talking to him that night before he vanished. Jenna referred to him as Louis so my guess was that they must be acquaintances of some kind.

  I also remembered when Louis headed toward the door for his grand escape. He was holding the door open for his chosen tarts, and while glancing my way for a silent farewell someone stopped him by the door and shook his hand saying loud enough for me to hear, "Great party, Mr. Bruel."

  With a first and last name I was able to figure out that he must be one of the owners of Bruel Industries, the company hosting the event Jenna planned. With a little more investigating I located the main offices of Bruel Industries, which just happened to be on the Upper East Side, within walking distance of my house. I also found some pictures of him online with a different girl in every shot. It was safe to say that Louis Bruel definitely got around.

  I had to take a stroll and see where he worked. I was like a groupie hoping to catch a glimpse of him. I passed his building at least twice a day with no reward. I just couldn't stop thinking about him. I was becoming pathetic and totally obsessed. I called Sara; I had to talk to somebody.

  "Every Breath You Take by The Police," I said as soon as she picked up the phone.

  "Are you fucking kidding me? Have you been stalking him, you idiot? He could be married or gay or both."

  Sara and I had this thing since we were twelve, where we expressed our feelings through ‘80s song titles. Since we knew the lyrics to almost every song that came out of the ‘80s, naming the title and artist of a song would eliminate us having to spell things out. It was our little secret language. It was great. We could be anywhere, around anybody and all we had to do was say the title of a song and we instantly knew exactly what was up. We both believed that every human emotion has been expressed in a song written in the ‘80s. Basically, ‘80s songs made up the playlist of our lives.

  "I have to see him again. Sara, I really feel possessed by him."

  "I'm giving you another week to get your rocks off to Mr. Not Happening and then we're sneaking out to a club with my brother and his friends and hooking up with random guys … deal?"

  "Deal," I agreed reluctantly. I didn't think I'd ever lay eyes on anyone who could hold a candle to Mr. Not Happening.

  Every night I couldn't fall asleep until I climaxed to his image in my head. In my dreams Louis Bruel was doing all kinds of things to me. The things I only knew about from books and movies I probably shouldn't have been reading or watching in the first place. Just saying his name out loud would make me up—excited and dampened my panties. I could feel his lips kissing me, and his talented fingers touching me everywhere. I could visualize him going down on me and using his tongue to taste me down there. I would sometimes even orgasm in my sleep. I could only pretend to know what all those things felt like. I'd wake up drenched in sweat and even more aroused than when I went to sleep. I was beyond pathetic.

  I couldn't ask Jenna about Louis. She wouldn't understand why I was inquiring about one of her clients. A real man not a boy, a man who had nothing to do with me. So, naturally I went to her husband, Mike. Jenna and Mike had been married for three years. They owned the event planning company together. Mike did all the marketing, booking, and logistical things for their company, Crown Affairs. Jenna had a creative flair for putting together spectacular events. She had a knack for transforming any given space into a beautiful backdrop to create a memorable affair. I came to visit them at their Lexington office in midtown under the pretense of taking my overworked sister out for lunch. Of course, I knew that every Tuesday afternoon was when Jenna got together with her friends—a.k.a. employees—to go over the events they have coming up. Mike was in his spacious office and greeted me with a big smile, immediately hanging up on whoever he was chatting with.

  "Hey you, what brings you down to our humble establishment?"

  "Do I need a reason to come see my hard working sister and my favorite brother-in-law?" I asked, making my way over to him.

  "Emily … I'm your only brother-in-law," Mike snickered.

  "Ha-ha. But you're still my favorite," I said, coming closer to give him a hug and kiss.

  I loved Mike; he was the big brother I never had. I'd known him as long as I could remember. Jenna was lucky to have such an amazing guy as both her husband and business partner. I hoped one day I'd find someone who'd love and respect me the way he did my older sister. When Jenna walked into a room Mike stopped breathing. The same was true for Jenna. They were both beautiful, with light blond hair and light colored eyes. Jenna and I have our mother's aqua colored blue eyes. Mike, on the other hand, has intense piercing green eyes. I could only imagine how gorgeous their kids would be when they decided to multiply.

  Mike started telling me that I'd just missed Jenna; she'd gone to Balthazar to have lunch with Maya and Anna.

  "They have a big couple of weeks coming up. We have some last minute functions we're scrambling to put together. My good buddy from business school runs this real estate firm uptown. Maybe you've heard of it, Bruel Industries?"

  I stopped breathing when Mike mentioned Louis' firm.

  "So he booked us for four events back to back. He can't stop talking about the last party Jenna put together for his company. About a week ago, I think it was."

  "Nine days ago," I corrected him. "I was there helping JenJen out, when two of your waitresses called in sick at the last minute, remember?"

  Mike smiled and said, "Yeah, Jenna told me you really bailed her ass out that night. She said you were pretty good. You know, Emily, if you'd like a summer gig before you start NYU we'd love for you to work here. We're always hiring."

  Wow, this was better than just talking about Louis; this would ensure I'd actually see the Adonis live.

  "Really? Thanks," I said as calmly as I could, considering I was jumping up and down inside. "Maybe that's not a bad idea. I am free all summer."

  I then asked Mike very nonchalantly, "Tell me about your friend who owns that real esta
te company. What did you say his name was again?"

  Chapter 3

  Tea in Louis land...

  That Friday I was once again wearing the Crown Affairs signature uniform consisting of a black stretch mini skirt with a white tank top and black heels. The wait staff was predominantly female. Lined up we'd look like a Robert Palmer video clip.

  My heart was beating in my throat all day. I was breathlessly awaiting Mr. Bruel's appearance. He occupied so much of my thoughts. I felt as if I knew him … intimately. After talking with—or more like interrogating—my brother-in-law earlier that week I had a little more insight into Louis' life. I knew two things for sure: Louis Bruel was straight and definitely not married.

  "What does Louis' wife do?" I'd asked Mike, fishing for some personal info on Louis. Mike snorted before answering my question.

  "Louis married! That's a good one. I've known Louis for a long time and he doesn't do the one-woman thing! He's the type of guy that needs a few women in his life. My boy always used to say when we were back at school that it's not fair to other women if he settles down with just one girl. Hahaha! He's a real character."

  Yeah, so funny. I was laughing with Mike on the outside but inside I was dying a slow painful death. It wasn't Mike's fault; he had no idea that Louis and I had a full-fledged monogamous mythical relationship in my head. I was right about him and those two blondes, I thought sadly to myself. Hearing Mike talk about Louis with other women gave me a pang in my gut.

  Mike said his friend Louis was a great guy and that they went to NYU business school together and were roommates for a year. Mike also told me how much he respected Louis as a businessman, and how hard his friend worked to get to where he is today. It was admirable to hear how Louis had built his company up from nothing and that he came from humble beginnings in Connecticut.

  Why was I doing this to myself? Maybe I'm a closet masochist. Why else would I subject myself to inevitable rejection by my fantasy boyfriend? I knew why, because his eyes definitely weren't rejecting me two weeks ago. Deep inside I still had hope. HOPE! Did I really think there was hope? I must've been crazy. Something was most definitely wrong with me. I was eighteen years old; I'd kissed two guys and went to second base with only one of them. Here I was trying—no, obsessing—about getting the attention of the sexiest man I had ever seen outside the pages of Vogue. What could I possibly do with him even if I did get his attention? I needed a reality check. Maybe I needed to tell Jenna about this. I could always count on my no-nonsense older and wiser sister to give me a good dose of the real world.

  At three thirty in the afternoon Louis Bruel finally walked in, or shall I say floated in. The way he carried himself was a dream to watch. His body moved smoothly, as if each body part was being put on display for me to appreciate. He pranced in looking fresh out of one of my wet dreams. There must've been a song playing in his head to help him move with such frictionless rhythm. I think it was Start Me Up by The Rolling Stones.

  He was wearing a dark gray, tailored, single-breasted suit that looked molded to his body. I could see a crisp white button down shirt peeking from under his suit jacket, with the first two buttons undone. Yum, I thought. I could make out a small part of his smooth upper chest. I wanted to lick my way up his neck stopping only to suck on his Adam's apple and finally make my way to those succulent lips.

  That face … it wasn't normal how heart-stoppingly beautiful this almost perfect stranger was. His hair was wet, as if in the middle of a workday it's a perfectly normal occurrence for him to take a shower. I'd like to take a shower with him. I guess I should thank him for the visual he provided me for tonight's installment of The Emily & Louis in La La Land Show, which will now include a steamy shower scene.

  I had the advantage of being hidden in the kitchen arranging little cucumber tea sandwiches on silver platters for the tea party that was about to start. The event took place in an ultra-modern loft in SoHo that was up for sale by Bruel Industries. The whimsical tea soirée that Crown Affairs designed was in such sharp contrast to the cold modern apartment that it worked brilliantly. Jenna had us all walk around with three-tiered silver platters containing tiny little morsels of food. Every teacup and saucer were a different pattern. It felt like Alice in Wonderland came to have tea.

  The beautiful state-of-the-art kitchen in this loft was set behind a one-way glass wall. The kitchen staff could see out into the house and yet the guests could only see themselves in the huge floor-to-ceiling mirror. I could see through the glass that my imaginary boyfriend seemed suddenly preoccupied. I would even go as far as to say he looked a bit frazzled. Louis Bruel was looking around from person to person like a possessed man. Was he looking for Jenna? I asked myself. He found Jenna and was talking to her animatedly, but was calmed by whatever it was she had said to him. I was so jealous that Jenna got to talk to him; she even got to put her hand on his arm while they were talking. I wish I knew what had him so flustered. Half an hour later the party had officially started. The servers, including me, were all ready to start passing out trays of food to guests of Bruel Industries.

  To be quite honest, I couldn't describe any of the guests in attendance that day because I had tunnel vision and could only make out one set of dark sensual eyes—which I felt on me at all times. Every time I passed within a few feet of him I could actually smell his very subtle, yet intoxicating, cologne. His scent was faint but manly. I'd read books describing what sex smells like; I think I finally got it. Louis Bruel reeked of sex and every woman within sniffing distance knew it.

  After a while my insides would clench just getting a whiff of Mr. Bruel nearby. I could swear I was having the same effect on my dream boyfriend, or maybe it was wishful thinking. I do know that at one point during the party, I looked up to meet his hungry gaze from across the room. As my eyes traveled over his body I could clearly see him still watching me and blatantly adjusting his crotch. I was mortified after that incident and I avoided looking at him for the rest of the party.

  My sister, at one point towards the end of the function, pulled me aside into the kitchen and discreetly asked, "How do you and Louis Bruel know each other? Spill it."

  I looked at her with horror and felt my face turn a deep shade of red. I had no idea what she was talking about. I only knew Louis Bruel from my dreams.

  "Jen, why would you ask me that? I haven't said one word to him."

  Jenna assessed my response the way only an older sister could and said, "The two of you have been staring at each other nonstop all afternoon. It's obvious something is going on. When he first came in earlier he was very upset with me. Louis demanded to know why we didn't provide him with the exact same staff as the last event. He said Mike promised him the exact same waitresses. The only thing that placated him was when I assured him that our staff was all in attendance today, including my little sister, who by chance helped me at the last party."

  Wow! No way, that's so interesting, I thought to myself.

  My sister mirrored my thoughts by muttering, "Very interesting, Emmy," under her breath. "This guy is Mike's age you know. He's way over your head, if you know what I mean. You're not his type of girl. Trust me, Sis, don't play games with rich boys—you'll lose," she added.

  I nodded. I knew exactly what she meant. I felt way over my head and totally out of my league around him. Not that what I felt really mattered. My phantom boyfriend had yet to utter a single word to me.

  Chapter 4

  Don't wake me up...

  The tea party finally came to an end three hours later. I was exhausted; all I wanted was to finish cleaning up, get home, and go to bed and have my delusional relationship with Don Juan the mute. We would first take a naughty shower together and then he would carry me to bed and finger me until I screamed out his name. After that we'd sleep happily ever after. THE END.

  Dreaming of Louis and I showering in sin made me smile to myself. However, my dirty fantasies would have to wait until I finished the di
rty work at hand. I was still at work and the loft was a total mess. My sister's staff was running around trying to quickly finish up for the night. I loved helping Jenna and pretending to mingle with adults at her catering events, but I could do without the yucky cleanup. I couldn't imagine Mr. Big-Deal wanting anything to do with someone who was scraping his guests' dirty plates.

  I was cleaning in the kitchen, blissfully withdrawn to yet another one of my Louis Bruel daydreams when it happened. First, I smelled him, then my body sensed him, and then I saw two large tanned hands placed on either side of me on the granite countertop. He essentially caged me in. I didn't need to look back to know who was behind me. His scent alone added another milliliter of arousal to my underwear. I couldn't turn around, he was leaning into me so close. I could feel his heat as his wide muscular chest pressed against me, enveloping me. Heart don't fail me, now. Please don't stop beating, I kept repeating to myself as my heartbeat started increasing to presto speed.

  "Are you trying to make me come in my pants in front of all my clients, little girl?" he asked.

  Fuck, I need to breathe. He continued whispering into my ear, making every hair on my body stand at attention. "I've been jerking off to the vision of your tits in that white top for the last two weeks."

  I think I officially stopped breathing when he said, "your tits."

  "Please tell me you're at least eighteen. I really don't want to go to jail. But I think it might be worth it even if you're not."

  Okay, Emily, snap out of it. Say something adult and memorable. This was my chance.

  "Yeah, I'm eighteen…" I finally said, a little breathlessly.

  He got a little closer as his whole body shook laughing at my pathetic comment. I could faintly feel something hard bulging out and grazing my lower back. I was afraid of having a spontaneous orgasm if he got any closer.