Mine

"I can't and you know that. Do you know what her father will do if he ever found out I slept with his daughter?"

From all the tabloids and social media surrounding Paige and her father there is no way she is out of the closet. There are many pictures of her on dates with guys, some famous actors, other famous athletes but none with any potential girlfriends. I also notice there are not many pictures of her mother. I want to dig into that but I don't want myself obsessing about every aspect of Paige's life. She already has taken up a lot of my time without even realizing it.

"He will not find out. Not if you don't do it again." She chuckles on the other end. "Do you think you can manage not to sleep with her?"

"Of course, I can." I have self-restraint. I can do it. I just have to avoid her. And stop thinking about her. Especially in those leotards. But it would be very easy...just ripping through her panty hose and pushing the thin, black fabric to the side... I bite my lip.

"Good luck, Taylor." She chuckles.

******

The second day of the interview is a lot better than the first.

I do more research on James and tailor the questions to where I want the article to go. Sometimes I have an idea of what story I want to portray but other times my muse takes it in a different direction. By having more specific questions in mind and knowing that we are only having thirty minutes to get to it, I feel a sense of control. As long as I leave with five minutes to spare there should be no reason that I run into her. Maybe she wasn't even supposed to show up yesterday. What is the likelihood that I was only in that house for thirty minutes and we would run into each other? Probably the same possibility that has me interviewing her father for this article.

I end the interview with five minutes left over and tell James we would continue the next day. My heels announce my departure again and the butler walks me to the front steps. He is a nice older gentleman. He tries to make small talk but I look around and make a run for it when I can. No need to tempt fate for a second time.

******

My luck runs out during the next meeting. It has been a week since the first one.

The maid guides me to a small sitting room upstairs, two doors down from James' study. She says he is in a conference call that will last a while and apologizes on his behalf. My nerves are on edge the whole time. I'm annoyed at how this little girl has me sweating at the thought of running into her. I never thought I would see the day.

I am sitting on an expensive white, plush couch. The room is also white and bright. The windows are open, sunlight covers every inch of the room. This room, like his study, is filled with useless things that no one ever touches. Pretty things that are dustless but have no reason to be in a small room in this massive house. A marble chess board on a table, a china cabinet, flower paintings along the wall. There is a T.V. hanging on the wall playing the news but I'm staring at the clock above itl. My leg bounces up and down and I place both hands on each side of the couch to avoid biting my nails.

My phone is a welcome distraction for all of two minutes. I hear soft footsteps coming up the staircase.

"Lory, where is my dad?"

I sit straight and place my phone back in my purse.

There is some mumbling outside the doors and I hold my breath.

She walks through the doors with determination in her eyes. Those damn eyes.

"I'll let her know when daddy is ready to see her, Lory. Just wait downstairs for me and I'll come down when I'm ready to leave." Again, she is wearing her ballet clothing. She has on leg warmers and furry boots. Her hair isn't in a bun yet, it is in a loose ponytail with light strands framing her face. Her gray sweatpants and matching shirt sag against her small body. She tosses orders around like the lady of the house. Probably because she is. Probably why she hates being told what to do.

After the door closes behind her, she walks straight to me and kneels down in front of me. I can't help but shift in my seat. Away from her and into her at the same time. This submissive pose is better than anything I could have ever come up with in my head. Her eyes are looking up and me and her lips are almost in a pout. I breath out my mouth.

"Taylor," She licks her lips, tasting my name. "What have you been up to?"

"Working." The stillness in my voice mirroring the tension on my shoulders.

She bites her lip to hide her smile. It is almost identical to the smile she had when... my cheeks turn a dark shade of pink.

She places both hands on her thighs and sighs. "Have you thought about me?"

"No." I respond too quickly. The lie is as transparent as the spotless glass table behind her. I try to focus on that but my eyes keep coming back to hers.

"No?" Her pout is more evident. She shifts and leans back. I see the tip of her nails apply pressure to her thighs. I want to run. I've never had this reaction to anyone before. Usually girls shy away from my intensity. They hate my controlling ways. They want fun and reckless sex. She probably wanted some of that on that dark night. I probably would have not minded if I thought that is what she really wanted. But something led me to believe I was exactly what she was looking for. Now I find it hard to remember why.

"I bet you have thought about me." Her eyes are smiling.

I need to gain some control. She must think I'm like everyone else ready to dote on her. "You were just one of many, sweetheart."

The playful look leaves her eyes and it is my turn to feel like I have the upper hand.

"I bet you've thought about my tongue in your tight, wet cunt when you're in bed at night. I bet you wished you listened to me that night and came all over my mouth when I told you to." I am towering over her, letting my eyes feast on her body. I see the want in her eyes.

One of her hands comes up to my thigh and I fight the urge to respond. Her palm is warm but her fingers are cold. The blood rushes to my head and I can't breathe. She lightly squeezes my leg and I do what I've been wanting to do since the first moment I saw her again. I pull at the hair on the nape of her neck until she is leaning back. She arches her back with no problem. My other hand holds on to her chin with force. My lips are inches from her lips. She looks excited and I grind my teeth. This is what she wants. She's using me for her amusement. At least she is being good and both of her hands are down by her side. Her lips align with mine and she tries to lean in. My hand does not waver. I feel her tug against my hand in her hair.

I lick her bottom lip and she moans. Her eyelids are heavier and her cheeks turn a beautiful rose. Probably the same color her ass can turn under my unforgiving hands. I see her control shaking. I lick one more time and she fights harder to kiss me. Her head is tugging but I don't move an inch. This time I pull back. Her smell is intoxicating. The same expensive perfume that smells like dessert.

"Fuck me." She whispers.

I almost do it. I almost push back and rip through her clothing just to feel her wet pussy against my fingers.

"No." I get the reaction I expect. The fire is back in her eyes and she looks as defiant as she did the first night. If she was mine, she would know better than to ask me. I would take her when I wanted to. She would learn discipline. If only.

There is a light knock on the door. It's the maid.

I push her away and she scrambles to stand. The door doesn't open though. She must have them trained well. She catches her breath and clears her throat. "I'll let her know he's ready." She yells out to the unsuspecting maid.

I get up and walk past her. I avoid getting anywhere close to her. I don't know how the Hell I am going to stay away now.

******

This interview is worse than the first.

James doesn't notice because he seems to be preoccupied with his own problems and we both decide to cut it short. I turn off my recorder and want to slap my forehead. At this rate I won't have enough information to write one paragraph let alone two pages. He notices my scowl and grins.

"Having a bad day too?" Only that your daughter just asked me to fuck her outside of your study and the only reason I said no was because I knew it would have been too short to do what really, I wanted to. And because I didn't want to jeopardize this interview, I meekly want to add.

Instead I go with: "Try, long week."

He grunts and opens a drawer. He pulls out a dark bottle with clear liquid inside and two glasses. "Let's have a drink then."

I protest. Even though my day is over I don't want to be here any longer than I need to be.

He starts to pour and hands me a cup, waving away any of my objections.

"I'm having business trouble." He takes a sip of his drink after we clink our cups.

"I'm having personal problems." I skirt around the true issue.

"Business and relationships are not that different. Some days it is all sunshine and rainbows. Other days you want to take each other down." I want to roll my eyes but nod. Having money does not automatically make you the wisest one in the room. But I guess with enough money you can buy people to believe that you are.

"So, what are you going to do about it?" He asks me.

My eyebrows come up in trepidation. He doesn't even know what my problem is and he's asking how I'm going to solve it. I shrug.

"You get one night to fret about it. Cry about it or over think about every nuance of the problem but by tomorrow you have to have a plan."

Hm. Maybe he is not that unoriginal. Thinking about it tonight though will only lead to me thinking about screwing his daughter until we're both beyond tired to move. Surely, he would not be recommending that if he knew my predicament.

"What are you going to do about it?" I finish my drink and place the cup on the table. It's a smooth drink. Probably more expensive than everything I own combined.

He moves the drink around in his cup and his eyes, like his daughter's, catch me off guard. "Win, of course."

******

It has been a long week since I have seen her or have been back to that house.

James has been too busy making business moves to give me the time of day which is fine by me. I have been at work doing more research on him and trying to keep up with his business moves. He never did tell me what his problem was but I'm guessing it had something to do with a union strike at one of his hotels. It seems like he caved since the people got the raises, they were asking for but maybe I'm not seeing it from his point of view. Maybe he did win in the end.

Renee has been MIA all week too. She is also a photographer for the magazine so sometimes her schedule is a bit more hectic than mine. I miss our happy hours. I need to talk to her about my dilemma. I just know I am going to see Paige again. If she isn't in my day dreams she's definitely in my nightmares. Nightmares where I can't get her to feel anything no matter how much I touch her.

And then there are the other nightmares. The ones where I'm either back to that night where I lost the two most important people in my life or the ones where I am back in time and their memory goads me. This week is taking a toll on me.

On top of that the new intern at our place has been following me around like a lost puppy and I can admit that she is cute but all the hovering is grinding my nerves.

She comes to my desk and hands me my mail.

"Thanks." I move the envelopes out of my way and stare down at my phone screen. I'm trying to see when James will be free again. We only have a handful of interviews to go through and then I am free from this mess.

"Taylor?" There is hesitation in her voice. I want to be patient and nice but I don't feel like humoring anyone at the moment.

I look up at her expectantly. Her jet-black hair is thick and long but she's too short. Her arms are too thin. She stands as if she is walking down the hallways of a high school where everyone makes it their goal to bully her. I try to soften my glare. There's not nearly enough of an entitled air about her. I should be nicer.

"Yes," I try to remember her name but fail. "How can I help you?"

"I just wanted to say that it is an honor working with you." Her words are rushed and I have to focus on her lips to understand half of what she is saying. Something about reading my writings and wanting to be just like me. I smile, and wish her the best. I've never had someone fangirl me. It is ...different. I guess having a lot of my rough drafts torn in front of me by my boss day after day has made me forget I'm not all that bad.

My phone rings and I answer it, it's an unknown caller. The intern leaves my office.

"Taylor." I answer.

"Hey Taylor," It is James. Where is he calling me from? He sounds like he is out in the streets in the middle of time square. There is a lot of noise in the background. I wouldn't be surprised if he was there at the moment. "It's James, I need to talk." The distinction between 'we need to talk' and 'I need to talk' is not lost on me.

"Hi James." I want to call him Mr. Lauren but after our last sessions I think he actually does like when I call him James. Would Paige like me using her name? Or maybe my sexy pet. My slutty ballerina. I stand from my desk and walk to my window. I need fresh air.

"Listen, I'm having a dinner party this Friday and want you to come." So that you can brag to people about having a spread in our magazine? I feel like he can brag about many more impressive things than this. We're no New York Times or anything remotely close. "My daughter mentioned you guys went to school together and I figured you might want to meet some of the people that will be there. I'm inviting an established group of friends."

I don't know how to feel about it. Does he really believe I went to school with her? She probably went to a private school that had other rich kids crawling through them. He knows I don't have money. But maybe he's trying to help me find a better job. What the fuck is Paige doing? Can I stand to be in the same room with her for this party? Isn't she way younger than me anyways? Does he think we went to high school or college together?

Just then my boss passes by, knocks on my door, and points to his watch. Time for our afternoon meeting. Ugh, maybe this is exactly what I need to get out of here.

"That is very generous of you, James. I would be honored."

"Great. It is going to be fancy so look sharp." He says something to someone else around him and then focuses back on me. "Did you take care of your problem?"

I don't know why but my chest tightens. For a millisecond I imagine my father asking me this if he was still alive. I had a close relationship with him and he always saw me as a sensible person. I rub my chest and clear my throat. The fact that James has taken the time to actually ask me about something that I assumed he forgot about or didn't really care about has me troubled.

"No yet. But after tonight I think I will get it straightened out."

"Glad to hear it. Call me if you need anything. I'll see you tonight." My gut tells me he doesn't offer his assistance to just anyone.

******

Renee finally answers after my fifth call and groans.

"What do you want?" She sounds like she just woke up.

I look at the clock on my dashboard. It is almost seven PM. "What are you doing sleeping?" If we weren't so close, I would feel bad for waking her up. But after having to pick her up from some random bar in the middle of the night multiple times I feel this is owed.

"Tommie has me working none stop on this stupid project. I got home at seven this morning. He wanted to get the perfect sunrise shot of some old bastard who needed the perfect lighting for his pictures." Renee is not a fan of our boss either but she doesn't have the balls to leave this place. No matter how many times I tell her she is good enough she doesn't think she can do better.

"I'm sorry to hear that." I hesitate to ask now. I almost call the whole thing off when she speaks.

"What do you need? I know I've been busy lately and we haven't really had time to talk. What is it?" Unlike her, I don't usually call to shoot the shit. If I ever call Renee it is because I'm in trouble. Texting is my preferred form of communication.

"James invited me to a dinner party tonight."

'Who?" She sounds awake now.

"James Lauren."

There is silence.

"So you're on a first name basis?" She chuckles.

I let out a breath and come out with it. "I bought a dress and need your help getting ready."

"Do you want to meet at your place or are you coming to mine?"

******

I don't feel overdressed when I walk up the concrete stairs to the front entrance.

Limos are pulling up to the front gravel archway along with exotic vehicles that have the valet boys drooling, waiting to get a touch. I'm glad I Ubered. I would have hated to see their crestfallen face at my maroon, 2002 Honda Civic. It is a black-tie event so all the men are looking as rich as their pockets and all of the women look like they deserve to be on a red carpet.

I'm waiting to get inside behind a couple. The lady is robust and sturdy, her silhouette reminds me of my grandmother. Her olive-green dress has all the ruffles and laces she could have asked for. The guy next to her looks a lot younger than her, probably her grandson, but if he's not, that's not as scandalous as it once was. She's probably loaded. He's wearing a blue velvet suit with white button up shirt and a matching bow tie. I look around and see other older men with younger girls hanging off their arms.

James is at the door greeting everyone coming in.

He looks genuinely happy to see me and I feel myself warming up to him. He shakes my hand and welcomes me to his home even though I have been here a couple of times now. It does look different tonight though. Gold and silver ribbons and decorations dripping from every corner of the place. I feel as though I am being transported to another dimension. The lighting is warm and I look up to see they have installed some hanging lights. This looks like a completely different house that I have never stepped foot in. My eyes linger on the doors to the upstairs sitting room.

My attempt to fit in is in vain, everyone here knows each other. I am the stranger here. I would have never thought to be rubbing elbows with the type of people who are here. Or even be allowed into a place like this. There is still a small part of me that wants to look over my shoulder and see if I am the punchline to a terrible prank. So far though everyone has been surprisingly friendly. The younger girls are sticking to themselves. They all have beautiful gowns that highlight their perky bodies. The gentlemen are talking amongst themselves, probably talking about business or the girls here. There is an absence of kids. I can't imagine little trolls running around here making a mess.

I catch the first server walking around with a tray full of tall glasses of champagne. I take two and drink them immediately. They taste crisp and the normal burn isn't there, worth the money James spent on them. Even if I avoid being around rich people, I can honestly appreciate their great taste in alcohol.

I grab one more drink. I am going to need this if I am going to see her tonight. The muted blue dress I decided to wear fits snug on me and outlines my round hips and perky breasts. Renee insisted on straightening my hair, even though I complained that it was already naturally straight, but she did make it look shinier. She also did a great job on my makeup. It is subtle. The rose-pink matte lip color is probably the only thing I am still unsure about. I feel like a teenager hoping I look cute enough to get asked to dance.