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CHAPTERSIX
Felix
I stand in my office that was converted from a warehouse a few years ago, looking out the window at the area below.
I haven’t left the office yet, preferring to stay up here and watch Faye as she works.
She arrived forty-five minutes early, wearing a hip-hugging black skirt and a white shirt that outlines her form beautifully. Her hair is neater than at the apartment, but still with that wavy messiness that has me wanting to run my hands through it.
She glances up, spots me, and smiles tautly.
I offer what I can by way of a smile in return.
It’s times like these I’m thankful for my reputation as an eccentric. It’s an easy fallback, a convenient excuse for explaining my strange behavior.
A regular boss would go down and say hello. And I do plan on doing that.
But I’m also aware of the fact we’re alone, just her and me. I’ve kept the ex-warehouse doors wide open, looking out upon the ocean, the water glistening in the late-morning sun.
She’s been here for two hours, and still, I haven’t been able to make myself go down there.
I can see too clearly what will happen.
I’ll stand over her desk, burning up inside, then reach down and grab her shoulders. Maybe she’ll make a cute whimpering noise as I pull her close to me, staring down into her innocent eyes, her mouth parting as if preparing for a kiss.
Then I’ll lean down, pushing my lips firmly against hers, tasting her.
Her young body will shiver against me as I slide my hands down to her hips, squeezing possessively, letting her feel exactly who she belongs to.
She’ll whimper as I move my hand between her legs rubbing fast over her panties, then inside.
Gritting my teeth, I turn away, walking over to my desk.
I tried to fight this urge, ignoring Lola’s hints, telling myself I could let the situation blow by without leaving any lasting mark.
But then the nights would come, leaving me staring at the ceiling, at the darkness, imagining the light-filled perfection of our future.
Night after night, I saw Faye cradling our child in her arms, the colors bright like the contrast and saturation were turned up high, goddamn rom-com high.
In the fantasy, I lean over, brushing sweaty hair from my woman’s face, then kiss her softly. Then I kiss our child on the top of the head, and we stay like that, the three of us.
Savoring the moment.
I try to focus on my laptop for a while. I spent the sleepless hours driving around the city on my motorcycle, scanning for spots for the underwear idea.
But honestly, now that I’ve met Faye, the idea of photographing another woman makes me feel odd.
Like a traitor.
Even if I could never be attracted to another woman – and even if I’ve never slept with one of my models – I know how I’d feel if she was photographing other men. If they were trying to flirt with her, the way models sometimes do.
The thought causes my hand to tighten around my coffee mug, sweat sliding down my forehead. My heart is pounding, but that’s nothing new.
It started hammering the moment Faye arrived.
Knock-knock.
I sit up, staring at the door like it’s an attacker.
