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LUCY, TALK TO ME. WHAT IS GOING ON??
She stared at her phone for a long time, debating how to answer.
Finally, she typed: LET'S TALK ON MONDAY.
No answer.
She hoped that would buy her some time to process everything and get over this excessive emotional state she was in. It wasn't like her to cry over a guy. She'd barely known this one, but he was good at getting under her skin. He somehow knew what buttons to push. Lucy suddenly felt completely exhausted, and couldn't wait to get out of her "date outfit".
They'd arrived at her building. She pulled herself out wearily.
As she paid the driver, he gave her another sympathetic smile and said: "Hey, this is none of my business and I don't know what your man did. But speaking as a guy: most of the time, we have no idea why we make women mad. I'm sure he's sorry."
Lucy laughed, in spite of herself. "Why do you think he's sorry?"
Grinning, he said chivalrously: "Any man would be sorry to lose a woman like you. If I were you, I'd let him try to make it up to you. Might be worth it."
Lucy thanked him for the tip, and walked into her building.
Friday, 9:45PM - Lucy's Apartment
Taking off the high heels while still in the elevator, she padded barefoot to her apartment door. She pulled off her dress on her way to her room. Another wave of tears struck her as she caught sight of herself in the mirror.
She removed her bra and pulled off the sexy panties, flinging them across the room in a fit of anger.
Donning another favorite Cami PJ set, she shrugged into a short silk robe and tidied up her face a little.
Lucy shuffled into the kitchen and filled her kettle, putting it on to boil. She pulled down from a cabinet her favorite porcelain tea pot, and a lovely cup and saucer that used to belong to her grandmother, and set them on a tray. She had just filled a metal strainer basket with loose leaf tea, when her apartment door buzzer sounded.
Frowning, she walked to her door to look through the peep hole. Visitors need to first check in with the front desk, which calls the corresponding apartment, and only then will that person be allowed up. Not even deliverymen were allowed upstairs - the building Porters brought up all take-out orders while they waited in the lobby.
So Lucy gasped when she saw Stuart standing outside her door. How the hell did he manage to get upstairs?! He was looking at her door, and must have somehow known she was there.
"Lucy, open the door and let me in." The pull of his deep, soft voice was strangely irresistible. Lucy stepped back, a bit alarmed. She didn't expect him to follow her home. How did he know where she lived?
"Stuart, I'm tired. Please - I don't want to talk now."
"Don't be a child, Lucy. Open the goddam door." His voice was low, but she could hear a tinge of anger in it now.
So, she was being 'a child' because she didn't want to see him? Because she didn't automatically do what he asked?
Fucker.
A wave of anger washed over Lucy. Okay, you arrogant bastard. Want to force me to have a conversation now? Fine. You asked for it.
She yanked open the door. His look of relief when he saw her quickly turned to concern as his eyes swept over her.
"By all means, come in, Stuart. Far be it from me or ANY WOMAN to deny you when you want something." She left the door ajar and stalked back into her living room.
He walked in slowly, turning to close and lock the door. Lucy wrapped her robe around her, tying the sash, and folded her arms, facing him.
"You've been crying. What's happened?" He regarded her steadily, his expression was hard to read.
"Didn't your little friend in the leopard dress say anything about it to you? That's funny, because she was very talkative with me."
He sighed, closing his eyes. He rubbed a hand across his forehead. It was the first time she'd ever seen him look tired. "Gina." He said, his voice sounded frustrated.
"Is that her name? We didn't get around to introductions. Though she seemed to know who I was. Why is that, do you suppose, Stuart?"
"Tell me what she said to you." His voice was hard.
Lucy's sarcasm was in full force: "She was being so nice - trying to welcome me into the - what did she call it? The 'club'? I gather it is a very large community of women you've been collecting at various companies you've worked with. She told me that you're kind of famous for it. And since she astutely guessed that I'm the new 'flavor of the month' as she so charmingly put it, she wondered if you'd gotten around to tying me up yet. It was all very illuminating."
"Jesus." He muttered. He walked around Lucy's dimly lit living room, and stopped to survey the view through the wall of windows facing the terrace.
"I felt so stupid, Stuart. And then I just felt sick." Lucy was annoyed to hear her voice shaking. More tears prickled the back of her eyes.
He remained silent, so she continued on: "Never in my life did I expect to find out that I shared a man with a woman like that. I mean really, Stuart, your taste."
Just then, her kettle began to whistle loudly.
Lucy stormed into the kitchen and snapped off the gas. She started to move the kettle off the hot burner, but the handle was boiling hot. She gasped in shock and pain, pulling her hand away.
Stuart was there - she hadn't even seen him move. He was pulling her over to the sink and holding her hand under the cold running water. She tried to jerk out of his grasp, but he wouldn't let her budge.
"Be still. Keep running it under the cold water."
It wasn't a bad burn, but it really hurt. Stuart's body was essentially pinning hers to the edge of the sink, his arms were around her, one hand supporting the arm under the spray. His masculine aura enveloped her, and she felt a flood of wetness in her pajama bottoms. It was all too much. Lucy felt humiliated as she once again burst into tears.
He wrapped his arms tightly around her, his lips were against her ear. He rocked her and softly whispered that it was all going to be okay. After a moment, he turned her toward him, cradling her head against his chest. Lucy seemed to wake up and pushed him away, sliding out from between Stuart and the countertop.
"Oh... no you don't!" She was pointing at him, but couldn't meet his eyes.
He sighed, seeming actually sad. "Where are your first aid supplies?" He asked, his voice sounded tired.
Frowning at him, she spat out: "Bathroom medicine cabinet." He disappeared into her bathroom for a moment, and came out with a tube of antibiotic cream and a small roll of gauze bandage and tape.
He motioned to her hand and said: "We should wash it thoroughly first", reaching for her. She snatched her hand away and said testily "I can do it myself."
"Really?" he asked, his patience wearing thin. "You can do it one-handed? C'mon Lucy."
She sullenly let him gently wash and dry her hand, before leading her to the small dining table, where he applied a liberal amount of cream. Then he gently wrapped her hand in gauze. As she watched his efforts, she grumbled that she was fine and it wasn't necessary. He told her to shut up and just continued on.
It was painful for her to be this close to him. To smell him and feel his hands on her. To be this close to his sensual mouth. To see the light hit his silky dark hair. She steadfastly avoided looking into his eyes. That might have been her undoing. After a few moments, she said:
"We're not finished with that earlier conversation."
His hands stilled for a brief moment, and then kept going. "I know." He said softly. When he'd taped the bandage in place. He touched her finger tips a little, asking: "Is that too tight, does it feel okay?"
She shrugged and muttered almost accusingly "It's perfect."
He slowly rose from the table, gathering up the supplies and the trash, and walked back to the bathroom. Lucy's throat hurt. There was an uncharacteristic slump to his normally board-straight shoulders.
When he emerged, he walked back to the kitchen and poured hot water into the teapot, putting the strainer basket inside. He looked around, opening a few cabinet doors until he found a second cup and saucer. Putting them all on the tea tray, he nodded toward the living room and brought the tray to the coffee table.
Lucy rose from the dining chair and followed, careful to sit at the far end of the sofa, leaving a few feet of cushions between them.
He sat forward on the sofa, his forearms resting on his knees. He stared at the pattern on her vintage oriental carpet. His face was partially in shadow.
Without so much as a preamble, he said: "I never slept with Gina. Not once. Not only is she not my type - at all - I think the woman has problems and should be in therapy." He paused, looked at the tea tray and asked: "Do you take anything in your tea?"
Lucy blinked at him for a moment. "Uh... no. Thank you." He nodded, leaned forward and poured some into a cup for her, handing her the delicate cup and saucer with a practiced air.
Then he poured some in the other cup, took a grateful sip, and then put it back down.
"I was consulting with PreCon last year. The place was a mess. Morale problems, financial discrepancies, they were losing money hand over fist -- What I just said is very confidential, so please don't repeat it to --" When he saw the incredulous look on her face, he rubbed a hand over his brow and apologized.
He continued: "Turns out that Gina, who was head of Production, was having affairs with half of the senior staff. They were misusing T&E, and then some. But worse, the conflict in that office had become really toxic. They'd lost their most talented engineers, and the product pipeline had come to a standstill. At the end of my consultation, the firm dismissed several of their senior management team, including Gina."
He took another sip of tea, hanging on to just the cup this time.
"She didn't take it well. She accused me of sexual harassment. The charges went nowhere; she didn't have a leg to stand on. But it was ugly. She wasn't just accusing me - she implicated someone else on the staff - a woman who used to be her friend. Her name is Ellen, and she was one of PreCon's software engineers. Life had already been hard for Ellen - she'd escaped an abusive husband, was raising two kids on her own... " He trailed off for a moment, sitting back on the sofa, his eyes staring off into the distance.
"I'm listening." Lucy said softly. She felt she knew what was coming. He turned to look at her, searching her eyes for a moment. His lips tightened, and he sat back up.
"Ellen and I were involved. It wasn't anything too serious, but it was nice. We were both lonely and had been working closely together. She didn't have much of a life at that stage, between her job and her kids. I guess Ellen used to confide in Gina, and she used it to try to hurt us both. It didn't make much difference to me - I was a consultant and moving on anyway. There is also, I hate to say it, the old double standard, much as we like to say it doesn't exist.
"But Ellen - she was humiliated. So much so, she was going to quit and move away over it. I convinced her to accept a severance - they owed that to her. I introduced her to some other contacts I have in Phoenix. She and her kids moved there and I hear they are doing well."
Lucy was staring down into her teacup, her mind in turmoil.
Stuart stood, walking toward the windows, and looked out over the park.
"Gina approached me in the restaurant before you arrived. She was actually flirting with me, which was incredible. I told her to be grateful that I didn't elect to sue her, and sent her on her way. I guess she took the opportunity to try to hurt me by hurting you."
"Wow." Was all that Lucy could say.
"I wasn't a monk before we met, Lucy. But I am not the monster she tried to portray."
They were quiet for a moment. He turned to look at her.
"Why was it so easy for you to believe her?" He asked, his voice hoarse.
Lucy had been wondering the same thing. She had a hard time swallowing.
She put her teacup back on the tray, and stood, pacing around a little as she considered her answer. Lucy was a little ashamed of herself, and for some reason it made her mad. Her mind had changed so dramatically - twice - in such a short time, she was having trouble keeping up.
Not usually an irrational person, she greatly disliked how irrational she seemed to be around him.
"I don't know." She began. Nervously, she opened the balcony door and inhaled the cold fresh air. Stuart watched her as the breeze blew her hair back and her robe opened, billowing behind her. Her nipples grew hard atop her full, soft breasts, and poked through the soft cotton of her little top. He badly wanted to grab hold of her and kiss her, but he knew instinctively that he should wait.
She shut the door again and paced around some more. When she finally spoke, she sounded almost angry again.
"Well, at first, I thought you were a terribly arrogant... opportunist. That you were going to do that consultant trick of getting us to tell you the answer, so you could sell it back to us. And I was pissed, because all of the things you were saying were things I'd been proposing to management for months."
He grunted a little. It sounded like a self-mocking noise.
"Then, you were all over the office - so fucking HANDSOME and charming and all... ENGLISH."
Stuart exhaled a little defensive laugh, his hands palm upwards in a helpless gesture. Lucy merely pointed at him in warning, and he folded his arms across his chest and waited.
"And THEN, you lure me into your office to talk about my ideas - sounding as if you really care about them-- SHHHH!" He tried to protest that he did care, but she violently shushed him.
"And THEN, you pounce on me, making this unbelievable pass at me. I barely got out of that room with my clothes on - I literally had to fight you off. So I'd decided then that you were a big player, and that I needed to steer clear of you."
"Cut to the NEXT day. All of a sudden you're Mr. Charm, and you're funny and you are showing me professional respect. So then I think - wow, maybe he's just into me."
"Thursday night happens. And I never told you this, but it had been a very long time for me since I'd had any kind of - physical contact with a man. A very long time." He growled a little, and she shot him another warning gesture.
"So now I don't know what to think. I seem to be going from zero to sixty in a matter of seconds every time I see you - and that is not like me. So when this... skank... confronts me in the Ladies Room in the middle of one of the most romantic dates of my life, I completely lose it."
"What about now?" He asked, his voice like dark chocolate.
She stopped pacing. "Good question. I don't know, Stuart. This is all... too much. I don't do drama."
"You could have fooled me." He drawled. She wheeled around toward him, pointing accusingly.
"Men like you...!" She began, searching for words. He pushed off from the windows, where he'd been leaning, moving slowly towards her.
"Men like me - what?" His voice was sounding dangerous.
"Men like you just mess women up. I don't want to be messed up. My life was..." She was going to say "good" but that wasn't right. "Orderly." She finally said.
"Orderly?" He was moving closer now. She started to back away. "Is that what you want? An 'orderly' life? Don't make me laugh, Lucy. A woman like you? Not possible. That would be an unspeakable waste. And besides..." He was backing her toward the wall of the living room.
"Besides what?" she asked, a little breathless now. Her heart was thudding in her chest.
"Besides, I WANT YOU. More than anything. Doesn't what I want matter at all?" He pushed her shoulders against the wall. His lower body was coming into contact, pressing into the length of her body.
She was shaking her head. She couldn't handle this now.
"You know what else?" He purred against her.
"What?" it was barely a whisper. Her eyes were trapped by his. She felt very small and defenseless.
"You want me, too." His mouth came down on hers. She felt a surge through her - heat, electricity, hot wetness between her legs. She knew he was right. God help her, he was right.
Fucker.
Lucy pushed against him with all of her might. He wasn't expecting it and leaned back a little, looking down at her in astonishment.
"No!" She was almost shouting at him.
"Bullshit." His body was tense, his nostrils flaring. "You want this as much as I do."
"I don't!" she lied. Feebly, she tried to push him away again.
"I know you, Lucy, much as you'd like to deny it. You'd love nothing more right now than to be thrown onto your bed and ravished by me within an inch of your life." His voice was hypnotic. She could envision it and felt another flood of moisture between her legs.
"Fuck you." Was all she could manage. He laughed, pushing his lips against her neck. She stifled a groan.
"I want you to leave, Stuart." He snorted against her skin, sinking his teeth into her earlobe.
He whispered back: "But I'm not leaving, Lucy. We're going to go to your bedroom and we're going make love all night. And since tomorrow is Saturday, we'll do it most of tomorrow, too."
Her body was shaking with need and a little fear. Part of her brain was saying: 'what are you doing? You do want this and you know it.' But the stubborn part of Lucy was fighting for something - she wasn't even sure what.
Maybe it was the last part of her own free will. She felt as if she was being devoured whole by him. Goldilocks to his big bad wolf. And still, his mouth was moving over her neck. Chills ran down her body.
"I don't want this." She insisted, but her own voice sounded brittle and fake in her ears.
He took hold of her face, looking down into her eyes. "Look at me, Lucy." He said darkly.
She tried to show defiance, but the heat in his gaze was overwhelming her. He took her lips in a long, sensual kiss. She wasn't fighting, but she wasn't returning it, either. Her body screamed at her, longing to rub up against him, to feel his mouth all over her, to be filled by him.
One of his hands moved down her body, gliding possessively over one engorged breast - causing Lucy to gasp, and then moving down her body to slide inside the waistband of her pajama bottoms. She wasn't wearing panties, and he groaned when he realized this.
One, and then two strong fingers slipped easily inside her, the abundant lubrication making this easy. His fingers answered the ache she had between her legs, but her sharp intake of breath was the only acknowledgment of that fact. He moved his hand, pumping gently in and out.
Looking down at her, his lips curled into a wicked grin, he said: "Try to tell me again that you don't want me. You're dripping for me."
She let forth a sound of frustration. Stuart laughed. "Stop fighting with me. Don't you see? You've won. I'm your fucking slave, Lucy. You have me on my goddam knees."
She cried out as he lifted her body, tossing her unceremoniously over one shoulder in a sort of fireman carry. He was walking toward her bedroom. She got a prickly, euphoric sensation all across her scalp, down her neck, back and buttocks. Her slick was making the insides of her thighs damp.
"Oh my god - put me DOWN!" She tried to squirm and hit at him uselessly. He smacked her ass, shocking her. It stung, and heat bloomed across her skin, but it also caused another mighty trickle between her legs. Her nipples were scraping against his muscular back.
He threw her down on the bed. She actually bounced a little when she landed. He stood at the side, looking down at her, slowly removing his jacket. She began to scramble toward the other side, as if to escape. He easily caught her ankles and yanked her back.
