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I step into the sleek lobby. Its clean white walls and its marble floors scream new money.
It's empty this time of day. Too early for the after-work crowd. Too late for people sneaking in a noon quickie.
Once upon a time, I took delight in making Natalie strip in this elevator.
But whatever it is I felt for her, it's gone now. The only thing in my stomach is regret for what I have to do.
She clutches at the elevator handle, teetering in her heels.
Her lips curl into a nervous smile.
She loves me. Not the real Mal—she doesn't know him; no one knows him—but some idea of me.
And he's about to call this off.
Why does it always end like this?
It doesn't matter how clear I am about this being no strings attached. It doesn't matter how much my partner believes it in the beginning. It doesn't matter how little room we make for each other in our lives.
It always ends with a woman looking at me like I can save her. Like I'm the one who will finally love her the way she's meant to be loved.
I almost wish it was different. That I was capable of falling in love.
That I believed the women who told me they loved me.
That I had more to offer a woman than pleasure.
But I've been fucking for ten years now and I've never felt that warmth in my chest. I've never wanted in a woman's head or her heart.
I've never let my guard down.
I've never loved anyone and no one has ever loved me.
I don't know why, what the hell it is that's wrong with me, but I stopped asking that question a long time ago.
This is how it is.
It's not exactly torture, having a different fuck buddy in every city, calling whenever I roll into town.
If I could just skip the part at the end with all the heartbreak, it would be perfect.
I let Natalie lead me to her apartment. The penthouse is gorgeous. This time of day, the downtown skyline is stark against the bright sky. It's all steel and glass. It's cold. Utilitarian. Unbending.
"I've missed you." She looks me up and down, affection filling her soft eyes. She catches herself and shakes her head.
But it's too late.
It's written all over my face.
And hers.
"Mal..." She undoes the button of her suit jacket and slides the garment off her shoulders. Then she's undoing the buttons of her blouse.
I'm almost offended. But then, I know how it feels when someone you think you love rejects you.
It's not an easy pill to swallow.
She moves closer. Presses her hips against mine. Then it's her soft tits against my chest.
