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“Damn it.” I lose my grip and fall to the mat below me, huffing and puffing in frustration.
“It’s okay, Amelia. You’re not going to get this move right away. Broken Doll is fairly complex.” Fiona comes over and stares down at me on the floor as I look up at her from my back on my mat. I needed to blow off some frustration, so I came to the Tuesday pole class this week.
“I know, but I at least thought I’d be making some progress,” I reply, gathering control of my breathing.
“Progress takes time. You should know that better than anyone, given what you do for a living.”
She’s right. Hell, she’s practically using my own words against me right now, the same words I tell my clients when they get frustrated that something isn’t changing in their life as fast as they want it to.
Unfortunately, we live in an instant gratification society now, and no one has any patience anymore. We all want things to change at the drop of a hat or press of a button. And tonight, I’m the one who’s getting impatient because I can’t land a move after only trying it for thirty minutes.
I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose before closing my eyes and taking a few deep breaths. I’ve felt off for the past two days and just wanted tonight to be a pleasant form of stress relief instead of yet another thing to frustrate me in my life right now.
I tried really hard to convince myself that entering into a physical relationship with Ethan would do nothing but throw me off-balance and that dating Brayden is the step in the right direction to leave these lingering feelings about Ethan behind. But it seems that I am naive about even that happening instantly. And the fact that he was radio silent today only made my uncertainty build.
Why would he approach me about a friends-with-benefits relationship and then leave me hanging the next day without any follow-up? I know I told him to give me time to think about it, but he’s been so persistent so far that I was on high alert all day, thinking I would have to fight him off and then by the end of the day with no word from him, I felt nothing but disappointment.
And I think that’s why I’m so on edge right now. Today did not go the way I thought it would. And for once in my life, I’m wishing that something could just be instant, that I could take a magic pill or click a button and these feelings would just go away.
“Let’s try something else, and we’ll come back to Broken Doll. What about Extended Butterfly? You talked about that one too.”
I shake my head, not wanting to set myself up to feel like a failure again tonight. “No, I think I just want to freestyle for a while. Is that okay?”
Fiona smiles in understanding. “Of course. I’ll turn the music up a bit more and go help someone else.” She rests her hand on my shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up. Remember, enjoy the journey. Remember how strong you are and how far you’ve come. You’ll get there.”
“Thanks.” I watch her walk toward the stereo, crank up the volume a little bit more on “Buttons” by The Pussy Cat Dolls, and then I turn back to the pole, mounting it as I climb toward the ceiling and begin to let my body do the talking.
I twirl, spin, hook my arms and legs around the pole, and attempt to shut off my mind as I dance and feel the beat of the music, pretending that I’m performing for someone else, until the vision of Ethan watching me flashes through my mind.
I try to push it out, try to picture Brayden instead, but light-brown hair turns sandy-blond in an instant, and blue eyes melt into green that penetrate me as he watches me move. Then suddenly, my heart rate increases as I feel his eyes track my every movement, my traitorous body igniting in a flurry of excitement at the fantasy I’m living out in my mind.
By the time I leave my pole class, my body is keyed up. Moving like that while imagining an audience watching me has my libido spiking and the need for release edging its way toward my clit with each second I’m driving to my house.
And when I arrive home, I storm through my door, up the stairs to my room, whip out my favorite vibrator from my box of toys, tear down my pants as fast as I can, and scream out through my orgasm that rips through my body in record time.
* * *
Yet another morning of radio silence on Wednesday actually gives me some relief. After I masturbated three times last night (yes, I was that keyed up), I finally passed out and woke up with renewed confidence in my decision. If and when Ethan approaches me, I know I’ll have an answer for him.
But by lunchtime, my chest is tight, and I figure maybe I need to take back control. If I go over to his office and broach the subject, then I’m the one commanding the conversation. And the more I think about it, the more that sounds like the plan I want to carry out.
When I open my office door, though, what I see has my eyes bugging out and my stomach dropping.
Oh no!
“Fuck!” I rush back inside my office and locate my phone with unparalleled speed, hitting Penelope’s name and cursing as it rings.
She finally answers right before it goes to voicemail. “Hello, Amelia Be Delia.”
“Penelope! How many did you order?”
Her chuckles ring out, and all I can think about is the precious time that is being wasted as I listen. “Oh, about three hundred.”
“Three hundred!” I shriek. “Why on earth?”
“You said money was no object, and I chipped in toward the cost myself. I wanted to show that fucker not to mess with you.”
I slap my forehead as I pace around my office. At no point in the past two days did I think to call Penelope to cancel the order. Although, at this point, I don’t know if there would have been enough time anyway to avoid the delivery. “This is not good.”
“Why? What happened?”
But before I can answer her, there’s a pounding knock on my office door, the force so brut that the glass shakes and the bell above the door rattles too. “Shit. I have to go.”
“Amelia!” But I hang up the phone before she gets a chance to say another word. I’m just going to have to call her back after I deal with this.
Inhaling deeply, I march toward the door, unlock it, and open it to find a seething Ethan Fuller staring down at me. His jaw is tight, every muscle in his body is rigid under his suit, and in his hands is one of the many boxes that were delivered to his office just now. “Hi, Ethan.”
“Amelia. Can I have a word, please?”
I momentarily debate slamming the door in his face, locking myself in my office, and never leaving, but it’s time to face the music. Hopefully, we’ll be able to laugh at this down the road. “Of course.”
He hums as we walks through the door and I close and lock it behind him. It’s my lunch hour, and I don’t want to risk someone walking in here while we’re discussing the items that are in that box.
But just as I turn around, I find Ethan holding up one of the giant, vibrating, pink dildos that Penelope ordered and had delivered to his office—one of three hundred of them.
“Care to explain why three hundred of these just showed up at my office?”
“Um, well…”
“I’m assuming they’re yours,” he continues. “Not sure who else in the complex would order this many dildos at one time.”
“You never know what some people are into these days,” I tease, trying to make light of the situation.
“Amelia, my secretary choked on her lunch when she opened this box. I had to perform the Heimlich maneuver on her so she wouldn’t die.”
Covering my mouth with my hands, I gasp. “Oh my God.”
“Now, I’m going to give you one opportunity to explain to me how this happened and why, and then we’re going to discuss what I approached you with the other day.” His tone is commanding, and my panties are instantly wet. God, the man turns me on like no other. I’d be a fool not to take his offer and run with it.
I swallow. “Okay. First, that order was made when you and I were still fighting.”
“And we’re not anymore?”
“No. I thought about your apology, and I agree we need to move forward.”
“Good. Now, why on earth were there three hundred?”
