Easy Virtue
Page 34
“Name a sum.”
I chew the inside of my lip, not sure how far to push him, but then I remember I have nothing to lose. Besides, I can tell that he really wants me. “Do you have a piece of paper?”
Amusement lights up his eyes. “Why? Don’t tell me you’re feeling shy, Blaire?”
I huff, but rise to his challenge nonetheless. “Fine. I’ll tell you.”
“There … that’s the Blaire I know and like.”
I hold up one finger. “Start adding the zeros, my friend.”
“Ten thousand.”
Smiling impishly, I shake my head. “Come on, you can do better than that,” I tease.
“A hundred thousand.”
“Higher,” I say and make him chuckle.
“A million.”
I nod and feel as though I just gambled a fortune away on blackjack. “I want a million per month, for however long you need me. And that doesn’t include the apartment.”
“It’s yours.”
“That’s it?” I ask incredulously. “You’re giving me that much money just like that?”
“Yes, why not? I’ve told you I want you. And I always get what I want.”
Before I leave for the night, we come back to the library to grab my clutch. After I retrieve it from the same brown sofa where I sat earlier in the night, I turn to look at him. He’s standing by the entryway with his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, his shoulder propped casually against the open door. Looking calm and almost bored, it’s hard to imagine that this is the same man who just fucked me raw with his fingers on his dining room table.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to, um, return the favor? Isn’t that part of the deal?” I ask, thinking that it’s funny how things between us can go from purely sexual to friendly—almost as if nothing has happened.
He cups the back of his neck, rubbing it. “Not tonight, Blaire. Go home, sleep on our agreement, and call me tomorrow to let me know your final decision.”
“Why? You don’t think I can make sound decisions in the throes of ecstasy?” I mock.
He chuckles once. “Frankly, Blaire, I couldn’t care less. But the next time we see each other I plan to fuck you until you don’t know whether you’re begging me to stop or begging me to fuck you harder. Until the hours cease to exist and the only thing that matters is total surrender. I plan on putting that beautiful and brazen mouth of yours to good use, and not for conversation, darling. So yes, I want you to go back to your apartment and sleep on it.”
His crude honesty makes my heart race. “I understand, but I won’t change my mind. I’ve made my final decision,” I say, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.
“Another trait we have in common … but one last thing before you go.”
“Aha?”
“What do you expect from all of this, Blaire?”
“I don’t expect anything because if I did, I would be sorely disappointed. Reality is never as good as one’s imagination.” I want to add that, as a young girl, I learned not to expect anything because each time I got my hopes up it would only bring utter disappointment and heartache. But I don’t. Silence is golden after all.
He stares at me as if trying to figure out a difficult math equation. “You puzzle me, Blaire. Who are you? What are you?”
I look him in the eye and smile. “Complicated.”
In the silence filled car as Tony drives me back to my apartment, I get the impression that he knows not to ask questions or chat with me. He probably understands better than I do that I need quiet at this moment.
Staring out the window, I follow the bright moon as we speed across the Long Island Expressway back to Manhattan. I watch her hide behind dark clouds, only to resurface minutes later and illuminate the night sky once more. Mentally and physically exhausted after an evening spent with Lawrence, I close my eyes and think of him. I think about the chill I felt as I left his house, the same prickling sensation behind my neck of being watched returning as I approached the car with Tony standing by the open door. And how, when I looked back toward the entrance, I found him watching me leave from the library window.
And that’s when it hits me.
We never kissed.
The next afternoon …
EARLIER IN THE DAY, I CALLED Elly and asked her to meet me for lunch at our favorite sushi place. I want to tell her what is going on, and that I’m not going back to work. Well, at least not for the time that I’m supposed to be Lawrence’s sidepiece.
I suspect it also has to do with the fact that I want to get out of my apartment. His green eyes, his voice, and the memories from yesterday keep tormenting me like a nightmare over and over again. I can’t get them out of my head. I haven’t called him, and I’m not exactly sure why. I guess part of me likes to play games, and I want to make him and his millions wait, or maybe I’m afraid that I imagined the whole thing.
Once we get to the restaurant, a cozy place in the Lower East Side that serves the best bento lunch box in the city, a hostess with long black hair guides us to a table at the back. A small block of wood that functions as a table is painted an opaque black and very low to the ground. We sit on long, cherry-red cushions that cover the floor, facing each other. House music is playing in the background, reminding me of my Buddha Bar’s CDs back at home.
“So, how is your guitar player?” I ask Elly as I remove the paper wrapping from the chopsticks, split them in half, and rub them together to remove the splinters.
“I’d like to first say that I can’t be held responsible for my behavior when under the influence of good music.”
“That good, huh?” I ask.
She blushes. “Oh my God, Blaire … he’s perfect. I couldn’t wait the three-date minimum. I just couldn’t.”
I grin and place the chopsticks next to my plate. “You, my friend, suffer from rock star goggles.”
She giggles. “Maybe. But seriously, I didn’t plan on sleeping with him so soon. Things just happened.”
“Oh, I bet they did. But how soon are we talking about here?”
She covers her burning cheeks with her hands and shakes her head, smiling. “Second date. And I mean it, Blaire! Things just happened. He had a small gig in a bar around NYU. After the show was over, a couple of his friends and their girlfriends went back to his apartment to hang out. At first we just made out for hours in his bedroom, you know? And, well, one thing led to the other … until—”
“Until he ended up plucking your G string?” I joke. We laugh out loud as she blushes some more.
She shakes her head and purses her lips, trying not to smile. “Like I’m going to tell you. I’m a lady, remember? I don’t kiss and tell.”
“Just be careful and don’t forget to use protection, Elly. You don’t want to catch something like chlamydia, or, God forbid, commitment.”
She giggles. “Duh! Anyway, enough about me. Tell me what’s new with you? How are things going with Ronan?”
My heart contracts painfully. “He’s gone.”
She frowns. “What do you mean he’s gone? You were talking about him like three days ago.”
I pause as our waiter places a bowl filled with steaming edamame in front of us. After we thank her and watch her leave, I resume our conversation.
I chew the inside of my lip, not sure how far to push him, but then I remember I have nothing to lose. Besides, I can tell that he really wants me. “Do you have a piece of paper?”
Amusement lights up his eyes. “Why? Don’t tell me you’re feeling shy, Blaire?”
I huff, but rise to his challenge nonetheless. “Fine. I’ll tell you.”
“There … that’s the Blaire I know and like.”
I hold up one finger. “Start adding the zeros, my friend.”
“Ten thousand.”
Smiling impishly, I shake my head. “Come on, you can do better than that,” I tease.
“A hundred thousand.”
“Higher,” I say and make him chuckle.
“A million.”
I nod and feel as though I just gambled a fortune away on blackjack. “I want a million per month, for however long you need me. And that doesn’t include the apartment.”
“It’s yours.”
“That’s it?” I ask incredulously. “You’re giving me that much money just like that?”
“Yes, why not? I’ve told you I want you. And I always get what I want.”
Before I leave for the night, we come back to the library to grab my clutch. After I retrieve it from the same brown sofa where I sat earlier in the night, I turn to look at him. He’s standing by the entryway with his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, his shoulder propped casually against the open door. Looking calm and almost bored, it’s hard to imagine that this is the same man who just fucked me raw with his fingers on his dining room table.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to, um, return the favor? Isn’t that part of the deal?” I ask, thinking that it’s funny how things between us can go from purely sexual to friendly—almost as if nothing has happened.
He cups the back of his neck, rubbing it. “Not tonight, Blaire. Go home, sleep on our agreement, and call me tomorrow to let me know your final decision.”
“Why? You don’t think I can make sound decisions in the throes of ecstasy?” I mock.
He chuckles once. “Frankly, Blaire, I couldn’t care less. But the next time we see each other I plan to fuck you until you don’t know whether you’re begging me to stop or begging me to fuck you harder. Until the hours cease to exist and the only thing that matters is total surrender. I plan on putting that beautiful and brazen mouth of yours to good use, and not for conversation, darling. So yes, I want you to go back to your apartment and sleep on it.”
His crude honesty makes my heart race. “I understand, but I won’t change my mind. I’ve made my final decision,” I say, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.
“Another trait we have in common … but one last thing before you go.”
“Aha?”
“What do you expect from all of this, Blaire?”
“I don’t expect anything because if I did, I would be sorely disappointed. Reality is never as good as one’s imagination.” I want to add that, as a young girl, I learned not to expect anything because each time I got my hopes up it would only bring utter disappointment and heartache. But I don’t. Silence is golden after all.
He stares at me as if trying to figure out a difficult math equation. “You puzzle me, Blaire. Who are you? What are you?”
I look him in the eye and smile. “Complicated.”
In the silence filled car as Tony drives me back to my apartment, I get the impression that he knows not to ask questions or chat with me. He probably understands better than I do that I need quiet at this moment.
Staring out the window, I follow the bright moon as we speed across the Long Island Expressway back to Manhattan. I watch her hide behind dark clouds, only to resurface minutes later and illuminate the night sky once more. Mentally and physically exhausted after an evening spent with Lawrence, I close my eyes and think of him. I think about the chill I felt as I left his house, the same prickling sensation behind my neck of being watched returning as I approached the car with Tony standing by the open door. And how, when I looked back toward the entrance, I found him watching me leave from the library window.
And that’s when it hits me.
We never kissed.
The next afternoon …
EARLIER IN THE DAY, I CALLED Elly and asked her to meet me for lunch at our favorite sushi place. I want to tell her what is going on, and that I’m not going back to work. Well, at least not for the time that I’m supposed to be Lawrence’s sidepiece.
I suspect it also has to do with the fact that I want to get out of my apartment. His green eyes, his voice, and the memories from yesterday keep tormenting me like a nightmare over and over again. I can’t get them out of my head. I haven’t called him, and I’m not exactly sure why. I guess part of me likes to play games, and I want to make him and his millions wait, or maybe I’m afraid that I imagined the whole thing.
Once we get to the restaurant, a cozy place in the Lower East Side that serves the best bento lunch box in the city, a hostess with long black hair guides us to a table at the back. A small block of wood that functions as a table is painted an opaque black and very low to the ground. We sit on long, cherry-red cushions that cover the floor, facing each other. House music is playing in the background, reminding me of my Buddha Bar’s CDs back at home.
“So, how is your guitar player?” I ask Elly as I remove the paper wrapping from the chopsticks, split them in half, and rub them together to remove the splinters.
“I’d like to first say that I can’t be held responsible for my behavior when under the influence of good music.”
“That good, huh?” I ask.
She blushes. “Oh my God, Blaire … he’s perfect. I couldn’t wait the three-date minimum. I just couldn’t.”
I grin and place the chopsticks next to my plate. “You, my friend, suffer from rock star goggles.”
She giggles. “Maybe. But seriously, I didn’t plan on sleeping with him so soon. Things just happened.”
“Oh, I bet they did. But how soon are we talking about here?”
She covers her burning cheeks with her hands and shakes her head, smiling. “Second date. And I mean it, Blaire! Things just happened. He had a small gig in a bar around NYU. After the show was over, a couple of his friends and their girlfriends went back to his apartment to hang out. At first we just made out for hours in his bedroom, you know? And, well, one thing led to the other … until—”
“Until he ended up plucking your G string?” I joke. We laugh out loud as she blushes some more.
She shakes her head and purses her lips, trying not to smile. “Like I’m going to tell you. I’m a lady, remember? I don’t kiss and tell.”
“Just be careful and don’t forget to use protection, Elly. You don’t want to catch something like chlamydia, or, God forbid, commitment.”
She giggles. “Duh! Anyway, enough about me. Tell me what’s new with you? How are things going with Ronan?”
My heart contracts painfully. “He’s gone.”
She frowns. “What do you mean he’s gone? You were talking about him like three days ago.”
I pause as our waiter places a bowl filled with steaming edamame in front of us. After we thank her and watch her leave, I resume our conversation.
