AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Anytime, Mom.”
* * *
Mom beat me at backgammon. We did the best of three and she beat me again. She wanted me to go for three of five, and even promised to go easy on me, but it was getting late, and I had to go home. I promised to come see her again soon.
Normally I can hold my own against her in backgammon, but my mind was elsewhere. I was 47 years old, and I found myself with the kind of crush that I thought I’d left behind in high school. And, like all crushes, this one was almost certainly unrequited. But driving home, I was in the phantom zone, as Sloane had described it, the car where we could say anything and nothing was real. It was a place where there were no consequences. And I allowed my mind to contemplate the possibility, even if it was a million to one, that Sloane felt just one percent as strongly about me as I did about her.
I replayed that moment back at the house in my mind, right before we left, when she placed her hand atop mine, barely touching me. It was such a subtle gesture that if anybody else had done it, I might not have even noticed. But for the effect it had on me, she may as well have hit me with a sledgehammer.
The scene came back into my mind in vivid detail. She was in her blazer and the short skirt that showed off her beautiful legs. Etiquette forced me not to stare at the time, but one mental picture was enough for me to see them again and look as long as I wanted to.
What’s more, I could imagine them dangling off of my desk, while she sat atop it. I could imagine her leaning forward, using her index finger to make a “come hither” gesture towards me. Indeed, I could imagine walking forward and allowing my hands to caress her thighs, moving upward, underneath that skirt of hers, and slowly removing her underwear — a lacy black number that drifted to the floor like a leaf. She leaned backward against the desk. Her neck arched back, and she puffed her chest forward.
I let my body move into hers, tasting those lips against mine.
“I need you inside me,” she moaned, the words flowing breathily into my ear. “Now.”
My hands continued to explore her body until they landed on her hips, giving me the leverage to push forward and slide my member into her dripping wet—
A car horn blared me back to reality as I realized I had drifted out of my lane. Overcorrecting, I swerved back into it, nearly hitting the car to my right before straightening out the wheel and proceeding to drive in a careful, responsible fashion.
The inside of the car may have been the phantom zone, where thoughts and words could be shared with no reprisal, but the outside remained a car in motion. If I wasn’t careful, those fantasies of Sloane and me alone in my office would be the last thing on my mind as I died in a fiery crash.
There were worse ways to go, I suppose.
Regardless, it was starting to rain, which made driving conditions about ten times more dangerous in a city where none of the drivers knew how to handle it. I focused on the road and kept my mind at bay as I drove the rest of the way home. My bedroom could be another phantom zone, where I’d allow the fantasy to continue and reach its natural conclusion.
CHAPTER7
***SLOANE***
By the time I made it home, I was full-on fixated on him. I’d just gotten out of a relationship with a boss who was awful in bed, cheated on me, and treated me like shit. Why was I running full speed into the arms of another one? I was smart enough to know better. But I was the stupid child who touched the stove, got burned, and then reached out to touch it again.
I switched into a pair of unwashed sweatpants — where most of the upper right leg was covered in a stain, the origin of which was long lost to history — and an old boyfriend’s t-shirt then grabbed a bottle of wine out of the cupboard along with a standard glass, the kind I’d use for orange juice in the morning. Without any guests, there was no need for formality — I didn’t need to bring out the fancy glassware and I filled that cup to the brim.
Since I’d already abandoned any appearances of class or respectability this evening, I turned on the TV and looked for the trashiest reality show I could find, eventually settling on one focused on a dozen or so horny twenty-something sociopaths stuck on a desert island.
For a moment, I wondered what it would be like to be one of them. Not their specific situation, but their personalities. Imagine what it would be like to honestly think you were so superior to everyone else that you could just use them without any amount of remorse. For all the dysfunction I saw on screen, nobody seemed to be as devastated as I was after that afternoon with Bradley.
And, yet, it should have been the happiest day of my life. I was finally free of him.
The people on this show didn’t care about each other at all and it prevented them from getting hurt. If someone upset them, they’d just get revenge by banging someone else. And since that someone else was using them to get back at another someone else, it all sort of worked.
That was when I noticed that my glass was in need of a refill. I was still thirsty, so I filled it all the way back up.
If I was one of the reality tv people, I would have gone to the closest bar and hooked up with the first interested party I could find. Instead, I ran to my sister’s and stayed there until I could find this apartment. And remained single and alone.
Wesley could cure you of your loneliness, I thought.
Yeah, right, I thought. From the moment I first met him, he’d been nothing but cordial. Aside from being my bossagain, he also hadn’t shown an ounce of interest.
It was a shame, too, because beneath that tough exterior, there was a sweetness to him. I felt respected when I talked to him, like he actually listened to the words and not just the rhythms of speech. Most people went through the motions day in and day out. And so did he, but there was an intelligence and thoughtfulness behind his eyes. Like there was more to him than the rest of the world got to see. I tried to get him to shed that exterior, and for a moment he did, and right when we were getting somewhere, he put a mask back on.
As the show went on, I became more and more lonely. The rain coming down on my window wasn’t helping my mood, either. There’s something romantic about rain when you’re cuddled up tight with someone else. And there’s something particularly cold and miserable about it when you’re by yourself.
Growing up, we were always told about Prince Charming and happily ever after, but that wasn’t real life. I felt empty when I was with Bradley, but I at least had my life in order. I had a steady job, which was bringing in enough money for me to live off of, especially with my wealthy… well, he never called himself my boyfriend, but I guess that’s what he was. Pretty much anyway.
And nobody talks about the benefits of dating a narcissist, but they do exist. As long as you inflate their ego and tell them what they want to hear, they’ll bring you up to their level and treat you like a queen.
