Eva - Valentine's Edition

Eva

Lily Rockmore

*

Oh, fuck! That hurt.

I looked into the enraged blue eyes of my lover, shooting wary glances at the perfectly manicured hand that was still partially raised in the air. My left cheek was sore where she'd hit me and I wondered absently if it would leave a bruise.

Monica's chest was heaving, the indecently large mass of her breasts pushing against the low neckline of her pink Chanel dress. She looked like the perfect Miss Barbie. It was just too bad that I'd cheated on her. I didn't make a habit of cheating, but it wasn't technically considered cheating if your partner cheated first, right?

"Thanks for that, Monica. I'd appreciate it if you'd leave now," I said, lifting a hand to my stinging cheek.

"Leave? You want me to leave?" she sputtered, her disbelieving eyes locking with mine. Monica had baby blues that glimmered beautifully when she cried. I'd fallen for the helplessness in those eyes once before.

"Yeah," I replied, leaning on the railing of the balcony and pulling my cigarette case out. "Tell Marie to buzz me when the five o'clock is in, would you?" It was an efficient dismissal. I turned away to light a cigarette, looking down at city traffic from the twenty-fifth floor of my office. I waited to hear the click of her heels as she walked away. Instead, a sudden, surprisingly strong hand clamped on my right shoulder turned me around and pushed me against the railing, holding me in place. The cigarette dangled precariously between my fingers. Monica pushed herself against me, making me back up until the black steel of the railing dug into my ass.

"Why'd you do it?" she hissed. The vulnerable maiden façade she liked to put up had faded, and now, she just looked like an angry bitch. "Why, Jessie?"

I looked away from her and sighed. Monica really loved making things difficult But at least I had a ready answer for her. "Payback's a bitch, honey."

I think she slapped me again, but I couldn't feel it. My cheek had gone numb. Through a haze of cigarette smoke, I saw a satin encased ass making its way into the office and disappear from sight. A distant click of the sliding door confirmed that she was gone.

Finally.

After several months of putting up with her brainless efforts at talking and mediocre sex, I was rid of her. It was almost enough to make me believe that there was, indeed, a god up there. Monica had been a good lover and all, but under all that make-up, she was just as dumb-ass stupid as they came. I never liked her, but she'd made a good bedmate and I'd dumped her when she'd worn on me. She wasn't any different from the rest of the women I'd dated.

I flicked the remains of the cig over the side of the building and made my way into the office. A quick glimpse in the mirror told me that Monica hadn't done any real damage to my cheek -- there wasn't a handprint or anything. Just a little redness was all. I rubbed at the spot soothingly before taking a seat behind the glass desk. A file was already open and the numbers and figures were a welcome distraction from reflective thoughts of the past ten minutes or so.

It was probably about ten minutes later when there was a buzz at the door. I growled, for I hated being distracted when I was in the middle of calculating something or the other. I'd never been someone who could switch back and forth between reality and work. Multi-tasking was for crazy people.

"What?" I snapped into the speaker that connected me to the person who was on the other side of the door. I knew it wasn't a client because Marie would have buzzed me first if anyone important wanted to see me. So it was probably one of those pesky attachment trainees sent by the other execs to get me to sign stuff.

I heard someone shuffling on the other side of the door and tapped my pen on the table, waiting impatiently.

Finally, after probably a whole of five seconds, someone spoke. "Uh, Ms. Carter? I have some files for you," came the feminine voice.

Without replying, I buzzed her in, returning my attention to the figures at hand.

In the back of my mind, I knew that someone was flitting about the office, placing files in the 'to be signed' folder and withdrawing the ones in the 'signed' folder. The girl made little noise, but it was still a distraction anyway, so I looked up instead of pretending to be able to concentrate.

Young, was the first thing that came to my mind.

Coffee-coloured skin and dark hair accentuated with dark red highlights. Her back was to me and that was all I could see. I watched her as she worked, taking in the simple black hipster slacks and white office blouse that she glamorized by pulling a tight vest over. She had thin black heels on her feet, but even the extra height couldn't cover the fact that she was somewhat short.

She turned from the file cabinet and caught me watching her. I saw her eyes widen a little before she clasped the black files to her chest.

"Uh, I'm sorry for disturbing. I was trying to make as little noise as possible," she said with a slight stutter and I found her child-like fear quite amusing. A small smile tugged at my lips.

"That's 'kay. You new here?"

"Yeah. I'm here with the attachment program at St. Michael's College."

Ah, yes. College girl. Mm-mm.

"What's your name?"

I noticed that her blouse was unbuttoned to reveal a bit of cleavage. Not too much, but just enough to intrigue. Definitely sexy, I thought. A small stud glinted on her nose, giving her an exotic look. A part of me wondered if she had other piercings.

"Eva, ma'am. Eva Smith-Johnson."

"Well, Eva," I said, returning her smile. "It's nice to have met you. How long is your attachment?"

"Two months, ma'am."

"That's nice. I hope you learn a thing or two at Violet."

"I hope so, too," she returned, then after a moment or two of awkward silence, said, "Uh, I should be getting these files to Mr. Therman. Sorry again for disrupting."

I gave her a reassuring smile and watched her generous rear with much interest as she made her away across the plush carpet and left the room.

Eva, I thought. I've always liked that name. And the sweetness of her smile contrasted interestingly with the boldness of her piercing. She seemed interesting indeed. I looked forward to bumping into her around the office.

*

I didn't see her throughout the week.

Planning for the company's Valentine soiree kept me busy in the evenings and the accounts shut me up in the office in the mornings. I still had a dozen more files to look through before the weekend ran by; the thought was almost enough to make me tear out what was left of my short-cropped blonde hair. I'd been driven crazy throughout the week with so many things to see to. Even whilst working more than 16 hours a day, I'd yet to submit the confirmed guest-list to the hotel the party was taking place at, and hadn't looked through the song list the deejay had sent me to look through. To top it all off, I hadn't even gotten myself a suit.

By Thursday, two days before the actual party on Valentine's eve, I knew I needed to visit my favorite shopping district or I'd just have to wear one of my old suits to the party -- a strict no-no for me.

So on Thursday night, I left the office earlier than I had over the past few weeks. The whole place was cold and eerily quiet without the air-con on -- we're one of the few companies in Boston to go green -- and people milling about. Marie, my PA, had checked out earlier and so had almost everyone else. However, knowing that he'd still be there, I said a quick good-bye to Quinn, a workaholic and co-exec, before stepping into the elevator and punching in the code to the employees-only parking lot.

The first thing I heard when I stepped out of the elevator made me pause.

"Work, you stupid bitch, work! Fuck!" The rowdy cussing was followed by sounds of thumps and thwacks on metal. Then it was quiet and I heard someone sigh loudly. "Come on, baby," the voice was pleading this time. "Don't do this to mummy. You're a good girl, aren't you?"

The key turned in the ignition, but the car didn't start up.

I followed the resultant string of blasphemies to the corner of the parking lot that was reserved for part-time workers. I knew it would be her even before I turned the corner.

Eva sat in a beat-up old Mustang, her head slightly beaded with sweat. She was wearing a buttercup-yellow dress that fit snugly around her almost-plump figure. Her hands tightly clutched the steering wheel, and as I watched, she leaned over and laid her head against the metal.

"Car trouble?" I called out, sauntering toward the flushed girl. Eva turned to look at me with her slightly surprised dark eyes, the nose-ring glinting beautifully in the dim light of the parking lot.

"I-uh-well, yes, Miss Carter." She got out of the car so that she stood in front of me, out of respect, I knew. This new position showed me just how short she was. Why, the top of her head didn't even reach my chin!

"Where do you live? I can give you a lift home." It was a generous offer on my part; I never usually offered to drive trainees home. But this one was different. She probably had C-cup boobs. Wouldn't you offer a ride, too?

"Maine Street. The one nearing Kensington Lane. But you don't have to, really. I can take the bus."

I was having none of that.

"It's eight at night, Eva. I'm not taking chances with you and that dress. Get your stuff. My Rover's over there." I signaled to the middle of the parking lot.

"Well, if you insist." She looked doubtful, but I'd already started walking. I heard her hastily grab her stuff and follow me. The sound of her heeled footsteps rang sharply in the empty space.

I pulled out of the building a minute later with a royal screech of tires, heading towards Maine Street. The girl sat silently beside me, her hands flitting nervously on her lap.

"So, what're you doing in St Mike's?" I asked, just to fill in the semi-awkward silence.

"Business Ad, second year. I can't wait to graduate," she said.

I snorted, reaching for the cigarettes that I usually store in the small compartment below the stereo.

"Can't wait to start work, can you? I remember being like that once. Funny how thoughts change."

"Philosophies of a thirty-year-old?" she questioned, and I shot her a look. So she's been asking about me. Interesting.

"Nah. Just some things you learn in life. Want one?" I passed the pack of cigarettes to her but she declined. I lowered the window and lighted a stick. Ahh, I thought on the first drag, the pleasures one can obtain from chemicals rolled in paper.

"What were you doing in the office so late?" I asked when we stopped at a red light.

"Oh, that. I had some extra filing to do and I didn't want to come in early tomorrow, so I thought I'd finish it off today."

"Is the work-load OK for you guys? Nothing too heavy?"

"Nope. Truth to tell, I'm enjoying every minute of it. I've always wanted to work at VioletCo. It's so big and important that it makes me feel important, too."

I glanced over at Eva. Our eyes locked for a second; moss green to sinful black. In that one look, I could see all her hopes and dreams and a future that she had so readily planned out. It was just too bad that life had a way of fucking things up.

"It's just around the corner. Take a left here."

I pulled up in front of a row of flats, nothing too shabby but not too showy either. The low-rise houses were painted a brick-red and many of them had lights glowing from the inside.

"This is it. Thank you for the ride, Miss Carter," she said with a smile, slipping out of the car with the grace of a cat.

"Hey, wait," I called. She paused and turned back. "Are you coming for the party this Saturday? You're supposed to have gotten an invitation."

"Oh, yes. I am. All the trainees got one." She smiled.

"Great. See you then." I watched as she walked toward the row of flats. Her yellow dress caught the lamp light, making her look like toffee covered in cream custard, just ready to be eaten. I shook my head at the ridiculous image and raised my hand in lieu of a wave when she looked back at me.

I didn't leave until I was sure she had gotten into the lift.

*

She intrigued me.

Why, I didn't know. But she kept intruding my thoughts at the most inappropriate times. Perhaps it was because of her kick-ass assets or sexy taste in clothes. Or maybe it was the innocent light in her eyes. Hell if I knew.

I had a dream about her the night that I'd dropped her off. A dream about her in a tub filled with bubbles. I could smell vanilla essence in the air and she crooked a finger at me, inviting me into her bower of warmth. In the dream, I'd been powerless to disobey her, moving closer and closer to her but never really reaching her. I remembered praying for the frothy bubbles to dissolve so that I'd have a glimpse of her, but it was in vain. I'd woken up feeling as horny and turned on as a teenager, a feeling I hadn't felt in years. Instinctively, I reached across the bed for the vibrator I kept charged in the bedside drawer, thinking to finish myself off. But I didn't have to.

I came, a second later, when my thighs clamped shut against each other, making my clit rub against my swollen lips. It was a quick orgasm, fast and over in a minute -- which was a good thing, for it was already nine in the morning.

I'd slept through my alarm clock and I was late for work.

Damn.

*

Saturday night arrived, much to my relief. I was so tired of checking to see if the food was there, the guests were there, the deco was right, and nothing was out of place. Usually, it would be Marie who saw to the details, but she'd asked me if I could help her out and I couldn't say no. I knew she had a lot going on at home.

Through the night, I smiled, nodded, waved and smiled again. Execs from Pioneer Industries, Terrance & Co. and JJ Inc. were there, mingling with the guests. There was usually tough competition between our companies to score contracts, and the animosity sometimes got out of hand in press statements, so to cool things off a little, VioletCo. usually sent invitations to other companies for formalities' sake. We couldn't afford to ruin the relationship we had with them.

As I worked the crowd with Amelia -- my best friend who was my date for the night -- on my arm, I couldn't help but keep a lookout for the girl I'd been thinking about on and off for the past week. There were very few women I'd felt attracted to enough to think about them when they weren't sitting in front of me. In fact, the last woman that had intrigued me this much was Tania, and that had been back in college. It had been over ten years since I'd felt this interested in someone, and that fact excited and scared me, especially since the person I was attracted to was so young.

She had probably been late for the party, because by the time I spotted her in the crowd, the party was well underway. She was speaking to Quinn near the VIP table, a glass of punch in her hand. The thin slivers of silver on her ears glinted under the dim lights of the entertainment room as she shook her head and laughed at something Quinn said.

A hand tightened on my arm, and I looked down to see Amelia staring up at me. I'd almost forgotten she was there. She was frowning.

"You became really tense all of a sudden. You ok, sweetie?"

I gave her a small smile. "Yeah, fine. I just remembered that I've to talk to Quinn about something. Uh, business stuff. Will you be all right on your own?"

"'Course," she said, waving off my concern. "I just saw Meghan Rivers walk through the doors, anyway. I've to invite her to the opening next week."

She patted my hand and walked away. Releasing a breath, I squared my shoulders and prepared to walk towards the duo, who looked like they were having a really great time. I'd just taken three steps in their direction when Violet, my boss, stepped in front of me with a wide smile. I returned her smile whilst cursing inwardly. It was going to be a long while before the woman would let me go.

*

"Hello."

Eva turned, the glass of punch cradled in her hand. It was about hour since Violet had caught me and kept me busy with business matters. It had been a torturous hour, with Violet speaking about business and me keeping a lookout for the girl in the sexy white dress. Eventually, Violet had spotted better prospects and left me in peace. I didn't lose a minute in walking directly over to Eva.

When Eva saw that it was me standing behind her, she smiled and said that the party was lovely.

I really didn't care if the party was lovely. She was lovely and that was all that mattered to me right then. The beautiful angel-like white dress that she wore had a slit up the side and ended at the knee. The paleness of the material contrasted so nicely with her skin that my mouth watered. She'd also done something with her eyes. They looked more prominent and beguiling. When she smiled, I noticed that there were two tiny dimples that marked the perfection of her skin.

"Ms. Carter?"

I realized that I'd inadvertently tuned out of our conversation. "Oh yes. Did you say something?"

"Yes, I did." She looked at me peculiarly. "Your suit is lovely."

I ran a hand down the front of the Armani suit. "Thanks. You look lovely, too. Although that's nothing out of the ordinary."

She lowered her eyes, and I swore that if she had a lighter skin tone, her blush would've been charmingly obvious.

"Thank you," she said, setting her glass down on the table behind her. "So, um, does the company have this party every year?"

"Yeah, it's a tradition thing. Apparently, Violet -- my boss -- and her late husband finally made their decision to start their company on Valentine's Day about thirty years ago. So it's like a founder's day anniversary celebration for us to do this big party every year."

"That's interesting," she commented, fiddling with the ends of her hair. "This is my first real corporate party, so it's really exciting."

"I'm sure it is. Hang on to the excitement while it lasts. A couple of years down the road, you'll be wondering what you're doing here when you could have had a nice romantic dinner with someone you don't see for ten hours a day."

I rolled my eyes and she laughed. "So, are you here with someone?"

She reached for one of the cubed sandwiches as the waiter passed by. "Well, no, actually. A few of us came as a group." As I watched, she pried the sandwich apart and frowned at the spread. "Do you have any idea what this is?"

I peered at it. "I think it's the horseradish." She wrinkled her nose and placed the uneaten sandwich on a plate behind her. Again, there was that charm about her. She was so openly honest, almost innocently so. I liked that.

"I wasn't that hungry anyway," she said with a shrug. I couldn't help but notice the way her dress moved when she lifted her shoulders. She wasn't even trying, but she was so sexy! What the hell was she doing to me?

"Mind if we take a walk?" I proposed, pointing to the gardens just outside the party hall. Her eyes widened a little and held mine for a few seconds. I could almost swear that the chocolate brown of her irises darkened a little.

"Yeah," she said after a pause. "I mean, no, I don't mind."

*

Being a butch has its ups and downs. I've had people give me 'the look' -- you know, the look which says 'you're gonna burn in hell, baby' -- and I've had pretty ladies asking for my number. But truthfully, my orientation hadn't been my choice to make. I'd never grown up around people who swing that way; it had been instinctive. The first girl I'd crushed on was back in junior high. Her name was Anne and we'd been math partners.

To suffice: it didn't turn out well.