My Asian Lover

by J A Fielding

  She shook her head. “But I know nothing about interior design. It's just a stupid dream. You'd be much better off going with a professional. I'm just a paper-pusher.”

  His smile did not fade. “Nonsense. I can tell you have good taste. You are, after all, talking to me.” he said with a wink.

  Chapter 2

  Taunya groaned and rolled over in bed to check her phone. It was ten in the morning and the blinking light had been going off in her bleary peripheral vision and she couldn't stand to ignore it any longer. She rubbed her forehead and thought about her actions the previous night. She wasn't particularly hung over as she hadn't had but two drinks, but something about the evening prior seemed so unreal. In her head, she was flying so high post-song that she barely remembered trading numbers with the ever-so-gorgeous Mike Sun. That is, until she picked up her phone to find a text from him. She contemplated tossing her phone back on her bedside table and pulling the covers over her head. She wasn't sure if she was ready to deal with the world yet that morning, much less to deal with a man she barely knew; however, the blinking light on that little phone was unrelenting and she gave in to the temptation to have a peek at his words to her. She wondered if she had really sung as beautifully as he told her she had or if he was just blowing smoke up her ass. She chuckled to herself, 'No. I rocked that shit,' she thought. 'There's no doubt about that.' She opened up the home screen on her impatient phone and clicked on the name “Mike from the bar last night”. 'How classy.' She thought, rolling her eyes at such an impulsive and adolescent move on her part.

  Hey, beautiful. Still interested in my offer? The text read.

  'Offer? What offer? Oh, lord. What did I get my dumb ass into this time?' Taunya thought, beginning to worry. She closed her eyes and thought back to the night before. She remembered the table of her work “team” mates cheering her on when she sang. She remembered denying Gina's offer to do shots. She remembered just how good her second whiskey sour had tasted; the smooth taste of Jameson still damp on her tongue in her memory, the maraschino cherry stem twisted around her index finger as she talked about her life with a handsome stranger. And then it struck her: the offer. That stupid, idiot offer that she'd made, agreeing to go over and see Mike's new place. He wanted her to be his “interior designer” and she laughed at such a ludicrous thought. Mike, however, had refused to take no for an answer and she had eventually found herself acquiescing to his wishes. She cursed herself for being so easily manipulated and swore that she would only be drinking water from that point on. If caffeine could manage to convince her to try her hand at being a karaoke superstar for one night and alcohol could get it into her fragile mind that she could be someone's interior decorator, then what else could it take to make her do something else even more foolish?

  Then she grinned, remembering his eyes and his confident handshake. The grasp of her hand in his was a moment from that night that she definitely could not get over and she began to wonder what harm there really was in at least going over to his place and doing some sort of – she struggled to think of the word – assessment of his surroundings. She thought of how beautiful he was and imagined just how beautiful his home might be. She couldn't imagine that there would be much needed of her to do anyways. And it wasn't like she had made any plans for herself for the weekend beyond obsessing over the upcoming week's worth of mind-numbing boredom and staying at home watching HGTV and trolling Pinterest for more ideas that she would never be able to execute. She resolved that perhaps this would give her the change she was looking for in such a humdrum routine – and maybe even allow her Pinterest boards to be put to some good use beyond simply being a waste of time on the internet. She picked up her phone and swallowed her ever-minimizing pride and typed a response:

  Mike, it was so great to meet you las –

  No, that wouldn't do. Looked to eager. She erased and tried again:

  I would love to –

  'Love? Why in the hell did I just write love to a man I just met?' She shook her head. This was much more difficult than drafting a simple e-mail correspondence at work. All the rules of etiquette were set up for that already. The real world afforded no safety net when it came to risky texting.

  Yes, I have considered the offer and I am interested in lending a hand with your decoration needs. Would Sunday afternoon be a good time to take a look at your place?

  Yes, that would do. Short, simple, yet to the point. No funny business to be mistaken there. Now to press the “send” button. Taunya studied her text once more and sighed, sending it off and sealing her fate. She rolled back over and pulled the covers over her head. Saturday mornings were supposed to be her time, but now all she was destined for was a morning of watching the clock on her phone and counting down how just exactly how many minutes it would take to get a response. She was almost relieved to have something in her mind to replace the mentally-draining background chatter of work responsibilities that was always somewhere on the back burner, but she hated to be “that” girl. She thought of herself as a fairly confident and self-assured woman, but when it came to matters of the opposite sex – even if only in a supposedly platonic realm – she was merely a shy little girl, biting her fingernails and staring at her shoes. She had a weakness for strong men like James and Mike, but she wanted to make sure she wouldn't be destined to repeat her mistakes of the past. She fell back asleep with her phone in hand and her heart racing. All she wanted to do that morning was relax.

  Smooth jazz played in the background and she found herself walking down the corridor of a building she had never seen before. It was dark. The only source of light was that which was bleeding in through a small cracked window at the other end of the hallway. She looked around and called out

  “Hello? Is there anybody here?”

  There was no answer to her question. Suddenly, she felt a presence behind her and a pair of arms snaking their way around her waist. She struggled, but the grasp was far too tight. She screamed and one hand made its way over her mouth while the other remained firmly gripping her. She struggled and tried to figure out where she was and what was going on. The mysterious hands roamed along her body, groping her breasts and scratching her back. She could smell a familiar scent. It was the musky aroma of Kenneth Cole Black. She continued her struggle against the hands that were violating her.

  “James?” she asked.

  Still no answer. She felt dizzy and scared. The hallway was getting smaller and smaller around her and she felt like she was in Willy Wonka's candy factory. She screamed and began clawing at the walls that were caving in on her. They felt soft and velvety, almost like the “Kinky Vintage” pattern she had been obsessing over. She feared what would happen to her if she were to be swallowed up by this vast darkness, but, just as soon as it had appeared around her, the strange, dark world began to dissolve and all she could see was white. There was silence.

  Taunya woke up in a cold sweat and examined her surroundings. She was still in her bed, covered by a large fluffy white blanket and wearing her embarrassingly childish penguin pajamas that she had gotten as a birthday present years before. She would never admit it to anyone, but she loved those silly pajamas. They were a cornflower blue color with tiny penguins in bow ties and top hats printed all over the button down top and drawstring bottoms. She hugged her overstuffed down blanket to her chest and caught her breath. It had been just a dream. Nothing more. She searched for her phone as it had become buried somewhere under the covers and recovered it from in between her pillows. She checked her home screen to find that she had slept for a little more than an hour and that there was a text message waiting for her. She went to check it but caught herself, remembering the strange grip around her waist from her dream. What if the dream had been some sort of premonition of danger to come?

  She repeated to herself, “It was just a dream. Goddammit!”

  She hated her propensity for nightmares. It was something that she had been dealing with since she was a little girl, but had never
really tried to analyze too much. It was frustrating and frightening. With all the work she did during her waking hours, it killed her to find no respite in her dreams on those unfortunate nights. She wondered if perhaps checking her phone might not be such a bad idea. That maybe if she were willing and able to give this project a chance that she might find the happiness that he had been seeking for longer than she could remember.

  She picked up her phone and held her breath momentarily as she went to read the incoming text.

  Hey, girl! Had a fab time with you last night. You can SANG! Did you end up going home with that cutie in the suit?

  Fuck. It was just Gina giving her own special brand of odd encouragement to Taunya. She knew that Gina had been watching their conversation from the other end of the bar, but she didn't think much of it. It was all too much like Gina to be butting in where she didn't need to be and Taunya was embarrassed by the forward question she'd been asked. She knew, though, that if she didn't answer then that she would have to answer on Monday and that would end up being a much more embarrassing scene to contend with. She typed:

  No. Guy just was just complimenting my song and I was thirsty. NBD.

  She sighed and plunked her phone down on her nightstand. She hoped that message would be enough to satisfy Gina's curiosity. She also hoped that Mike might actually get back to her sometime soon, but didn't want to kid herself. She was definitely feeling desperate and annoyed. She resolved to get up and make herself a cup of coffee. It was no use letting either her morning or her new Keurig go to waste. She left her phone in its place on the nightstand and shuffled off to the kitchen in her pajamas.

  She sipped french vanilla coffee out of her black Systyx mug that she had gotten during the company Christmas party last year. It was still piping hot and she burnt her tongue on the first couple of sips. She set the mug down on her kitchen table and heard a beeping noise coming from her bedroom. 'Damnit' she thought. 'Better not be fuckin' Gina again.'

  She picked her coffee back up and blew on it this time. She took another cautious sip and wandered back to her bedroom to tend to her whining phone. She grabbed a tissue from her bed table for a makeshift coaster and retrieved her phone from its place, face down on the table. She turned it over and read the words on the screen:

  I'm sorry it took me a little while to respond. I had just jumped in the shower when I heard my phone buzz with your message. Sunday would be great. Shall we say around 4pm?

  Taunya shuddered. She tried to imagine what he looked like naked, covered in little droplets of steamy water and soaping up – what she saw in her mind's eye as – a well-toned body. She thought about the suit she saw him wearing the night prior. It was a beautiful dark gray Calvin Klein number (she did know her designers) with a black button down shirt underneath and a black satin tie. She remembered liking his tie clip, but she couldn't quite remember how it looked. But his lustrous emerald green eyes were as fresh in her memory as if she was staring at him that very moment. She undid the drawstring of her pajama pants and slipped a hand inside, feeling the warmth between her legs and thinking about the incredibly sexy man who wanted her to come to his home the next day.

  She snapped out of her reverie and went to the mirror to see just how hard last night had taken its toll on her. There were perpetual bags under her eyes from a myriad of nightmare and insomnia-fueled nights. Her dark brown skin was beautiful and smooth. She thanked her good genes for the fact that, unlike others growing up, she had never had a bad breakout in her life. Her eyes were a rich hazel and her eyelashes were long and gorgeous, something that she had always been complimented on. She was not much for makeup, but was always sure to put on just a little hint of mascara to accentuate her natural gift. At 5'4”, she wasn't terribly tall but she always had good posture and carried herself with her head held high, even when walking into a tough situation at work. Her micro braids were long and flowed down past her shoulders to the middle of her back. Her hair was a dark chestnut brown and she preferred to leave it braided consistently for ease of care and versatility. She unbuttoned her pajama top and examined her breasts, running her hands along her peaked nipples. Her breasts were on the larger side for someone of her petite frame and she had hated bra shopping up until she finally ventured into a Victoria's Secret one day (at Gina's urging) and found some lacy bra and panty sets that made her feel extra confident when she needed it.

  She thought of the lingerie she was half-wearing when James' wife had walked in on them. The straps of her black lace bra were hanging off of her shoulders and her matching thong was being inched down by James' mouth when the door opened and it was all over. She had thought about throwing away that set of lingerie, but it had been so pricy. Moreover, there was something about it that gave her a strange sense of power and, although she hadn't worn them since, every time she opened her delicates drawer and saw the bra and panties, she felt a fire ignite within herself. She decided that it was time to stop living in the past, though, and removed her pajamas entirely and raced to the bathroom to wash those thoughts away. She didn't need that lying bastard anyways.

  In the shower, she let a steady stream of water pulsate against her clit and she moaned, thinking about how sorely she longed to get laid. Despite James being no good for her, she missed the feeling of being wanted. She knew that if she was to be taken seriously as Mike's interior decorator, though, that she would have to maintain an air of professionalism; however, she wanted so badly to find out just what he looked like under his power suit. She washed her face and tried to rehearse what she might want to say to Mike the next day. She thought of her favorite episodes of HGTV's Design Star and, even more, the timeless wisdom of one Martha Stewart.

  She put on her best “white girl voice” and spoke aloud, “Why Michael. I think it would be just lovely if you were to spruce up this kitchen with some festive curtains. Have you considered these flower patterned ones with the peonies on them? It's a good thing.”

  She giggled. The Martha Stewart persona was definitely one that she could not pull off. She supposed that perhaps she would have to just settle for being herself and hope that it would be enough to impress Mike. She decided that she would devote her day to Pinterest and HGTV all in the name of research for her upcoming meeting. She knew nothing about what Mike's home looked like, so all she could do was consider those beautiful green eyes of his and what kind of backdrop he might look good against. 'Mmm he would look good in my bed.' She thought devilishly.

  She toweled off and returned to her phone, realizing that she hadn't even confirmed their meeting tomorrow before she had hastily taken off for the shower to clean up and get a little dirty with the shower head. She shook her head and thought to herself, 'Praise Jesus for the invention of the shower nozzle or I'd be feeling a hell of a lot lonelier these days.' She felt like a horny little schoolgirl for a fleeting moment, but regained her composure and got to typing.

  4 will be just fine. See you then.

  She considered throwing in a winking emoji but decided against it, choosing to begin her role acting as a professional designer right away, lest she waste any more time in her world of fantasy. After all, fantasy, as evidenced by her earlier nightmare, could very well threaten to engulf her entirely. Besides, it was more than enough that she was being given the opportunity to live out one of her more feasible daydreams by helping Mike to decorate his home. Anything beyond that would be far too greedy to consider chasing after.

  Chapter 3

  After a full day of running around town to do a few small nagging errands and then later allowing herself some time for lounging around the house and watching a near unhealthy amount of television, Taunya was beat and eagerly looking forward to the next day's meeting with Mike. She washed up, put on her penguin pajamas, and looked around her bedroom, wondering how it looked in comparison to what she would see at Mike's the next afternoon. He had mentioned the night at the bar that it was his new master bedroom that he needed help decorating, but that if he liked how sh
e did there might be other work in the rest of the house. She looked at her lavender walls and remembered painting them herself. Even the moulding she had hand-done in a deep purple. She looked at her luxurious bed and cursed it for being the place where her nightly terrors would tend to happen the most. She had secretly always wished for a canopy bed, but, as a woman of thirty, she thought that it was something a little too juvenile for the sophisticated, adult palette that she thought she was supposed to have by then. That said, her bed was beautiful. It was a sprawling California King with silky white sheets and a large beige comforter. Pillows of all sizes and shapes dotted the head of the bed, but she always found herself sleeping on an older jumbo-sized pillow in the mix. That pillow reminded her of the nights she would spend at her grandmother's house as a young girl when her grandmother was still alive. She always seemed to have the most restful sleep there. She could never even remember if she had ever had a nightmare while staying at her Gran's, but she was pretty sure that there was something about the combination of the smell of fresh pastries and peppermint that seemed to perpetually permeate the entirety of her Grandma's house that soothed her and put her at ease to fall fast asleep. She missed her grandmother terribly and, though it had been years since her passing, every time Taunya thought about it, the heartbreak was just as fresh as it was the day she died. It was her grandmother who had always encouraged her to go after her dreams and Taunya wondered if she hadn't spent the last ten years disregarding such a sentiment by allowing herself to work at a job that was merely financially satisfactory, but otherwise incredibly draining and disappointing.

  She lay in bed, considering the crossroads at which she stood. One way was something she could be sure of. She could always count on Systyx to be there for her, supplying her with endless work and endless boredom. The other opportunity that stood before her was something that she might fail entirely at and she was scared. She had no idea about interior design beyond knowing what she liked, but the passion was definitely there. It was simply a matter of giving in to such a passion and taking what was definitely not a calculated risk by any means. Or she could always slave away in the Human Resources department, looking at the drab walls, allowing them to suffocate her day in and day out. She fell asleep, still wondering about the untold opportunities that the next day would hold and hoped that she had the courage to take on anything that could come her way.