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She’d booked an appointment with a psychologist but she couldn’t bring herself to go into the building. The front had been made entirely of glass; it reminded her of her husband—the beautiful transparent glazing was something he would create—and she instantly lost her courage.
Lorelei remained in a constant state of inertia. On one hand, she knew she loved Vince and she would be devastated if they separated … but she also knew she needed to see him and this girl together. It was a deep, yearning desire that wouldn’t go away on its own.
“You don’t know me, but I know you,” Lorelei whispered.
All of the tables around her were empty. Everyone was inside the restaurant, deeming the weather too cold to sit outside. Lorelei needed the space though. She couldn’t stand all the eyes peering at her, judging her. She didn’t need that. Not today.
“I’m the girl who was in your bathroom yesterday,” Lorelei continued. “I want you, Mr. Bugatti.”
She knew it was probably detrimental to her mental health, but she’d memorized the texts the girl had sent Vince. It wasn’t something she’d done consciously. She’d read it so many times that the words were now stuck in her head, burned into her retinas, refusing to go away.
“I will do anything you want me to,” Lorelei said, a fervor in her whispered tone. “Whatever it is that your wife denies you, I will do it. I just want to be able to love you. I want to feel you inside of me. I want to taste your skin. I want you to spurt inside of me.”
She glanced up and around her, making sure no one was listening. Everyone was so busy living their own lives they didn’t even see her, the crazy-looking, disheveled woman at the glass table alone.
“You make me wet, Mr. Bugatti,” Lorelei closed her eyes, feeling moved to her core as if she were saying a prayer. “So. Damn. Wet.”
Lorelei had nothing else to do while she waited. All she could think about was Claire, imagining what she looked like from the description her husband had given her. Reciting the words somehow made her feel closer to them, closer to the act of them ravishing one another. It was obvious the girl was attractive with perfect skin and beautiful hair and nails. Vince had said she was petite or at least alluded to the fact. What did petite really mean?
Her mind overflowed with questions about the girl as she kept her eyes turned down to the table in front of her.
Through the glass, she could see her gray, baggy sweatpants hanging from her legs. They were covered in light bleach stains and had a couple of holes at the seam. Her shirt didn’t look much better: a loose old thing that was tattered around the edges. Lorelei didn’t have the energy to care anymore. Her whole life had been turned around and now all she could focus on was getting some damn answers.
“I loved your intelligence,” she recited. “The way you designed buildings to be both modern and brutalist, soft and hard, undeniably masculine and yet so feminine. There’s a beautiful duality to your work that enticed me.”
Lorelei tried not to scoff at the words. How could a building entice a teenager? Was she some kind of nerd? Was she attractive, or was she just young? Did she only seem attractive because she was so full of life?
“I loved how you used your job for the betterment of the world,” Lorelei continued to whisper. “The way you think in terms of biospheres and make sure to maximize the efficiency of all of your buildings.”
It didn’t make any sense to her. None of it did. Her mind was a jumbled mess of thoughts and errant emotions she couldn’t put in their place.
“I found out about you while researching buildings for a school project,” Lorelei said.
A school project, she thought with a grimace. This girl has been chasing my husband since she was in high school. I never had a chance.
Still, she continued, “Ever since then, I’ve been unable to stop thinking about you. I’m sorry you found me like that. I shouldn’t have broken in but it’s not my fault.”
Not her fault, Lorelei thought, suppressing a bitter scoff. No, someone else made you break into our home. Forced your hand. None of it was up to you, was it? Lorelei knew she couldn’t be too hard on the kid for that exact reason—she was just a damn kid. All those hormones, all those emotions. Christ, Lorelei could remember what it was like being a teenager, couldn’t she?
Can I, she mused. Or is it all just a faded dream? Something I can only remember through a thick fog?
“Please use me,” Lorelei whispered, coming to the end of the long message. “Please take me, Daddy. I want you. I need you. All my love, Claire.”
The words rolled through her body, sending a wave of shivers through her muscles. It was too much to handle. Thinking about that little girl putting her hands all over her husband, it made her body fill with electricity that shocked and delighted her.
Lorelei sat, her eyes open, staring at the world around her. A lot of the people passing her by were glancing at her, their brows furrowing. It was clear they were judging her, assuming she was some kind of bum getting a free meal outside this fancy restaurant, but Lorelei didn’t care. She was too torn up about that stupid girl and her stupid husband. Christ, it was the only thing that occupied her thoughts. How was she supposed to live like this, constantly ruminating on the possibility of her husband in the arms of a young girl? She needed to break out of this somehow, figure out a way to get her sanity back.
She didn’t have time to figure it out though. A strange, tingling feeling took over her, spiraling down the back of her neck and sending goosebumps through her limbs. Looking up, she saw Claire. She stood out so clearly in the hustling crowd. Her curly, golden-brown hair bounced around her shoulders, bringing Lorelei’s eyes to her breasts. They were big and perky; two things that breasts rarely shared. Lorelei chalked it up to the girl’s age, knowing they would sink in the years to come. For now, everything about her was so youthful and full of life, it made Lorelei sick just looking at her.
Claire wore the most ridiculous outfit Lorelei had ever seen: a gray, pleated skirt that barely covered her thighs. Long, white socks stretched up to the bottom of her taut thighs. A crisp, white, sleeveless shirt was unbuttoned, showing off her ample cleavage. A strange bow tie was wrapped tightly around her neck.
Lorelei had seen a similar outfit before, but she couldn’t put her finger on where. Was it a schoolgirl outfit? Something from a show? Claire walked with her head held high and her skirt flapping around her thighs, lifting with the slightest breeze. It was all intentional, Lorelei knew. The girl might have been a teenager, but she knew what she was doing. There was no doubt about it. Her whole body was hers to show off as a sexual object and she was abusing her powers of youth. How could anyone compete with her? She was as near to perfection as a human could get. Lorelei felt humiliated in her presence and she wasn’t even near the table yet. The only thing she could do was turn her eyes down to stare at the glass tabletop and wait for the girl to approach.
Claire’s hips swayed, drawing in Lorelei’s eyes. Her legs brushed against each other. She took careful steps in her kitten-heeled pumps. She held such confidence, giggling to herself as she stared down at Lorelei.
“Oh my god,” she squealed, her high-pitched voice grating. “I didn’t recognize you at first. You’ve really let yourself go, huh?” Without prompting, she sat down at the table opposite Lorelei, her dark blue eyes glancing up and down Lorelei’s body, inspecting her. “You look so different. Only a couple of months ago you were on the front of some magazine, weren’t you?”
Lorelei opened her mouth to correct the girl but she was cut off.
