Wait for Me (11 page)

On the hour, my brother peeked round the door. I sat bolt upright.

“Wakey wakey, rise and shine!”

“Morning,” I grumbled, looking around. No trace of Adam or the picnic.

“Coffee and donuts are waiting for you,” he said, then disappeared.

I got out bed in a world of pain – the sweetest kind of pain. I noticed my cell phone flashing on the desk with a message.

I closed my eyes and clutched the phone to my chest. He must have saved my number before he left, I thought. Floating in a haze, I went to the bathroom to shower, blissfully reminiscing about the previous night. I eventually joined my brother in his office.

I sleepily sank into his desk chair and grabbed a donut. At around the third bite, he broke the news: “Mom's coming. She found out you're staying here.”

“What?” I croaked.

“Gustav's wife ran into her at the market and let it slip. She forgot that Mom didn't know.”

“Oh god.”

His lips bent into a despairing smile. “She'll be here in five. She wants to see that you're settled.”

I sprang to my feet in panic. “I'd best go and tidy my room, why didn't you tell me earlier?”

“I wanted to let you get some rest, you looked dead to the world.”

I hurried to my room, made the bed, emptied the trash can, folded my shirts using her approved method and put them into the drawers, tidied the desk, dusted, opened the window and watered the withered cyclamens. When I returned to the office, she was standing in front of Dad's photo with a shopping bag between her legs.

“Mom!”

“Sophie! Why aren't you living at home? I had to hear about this from Gustav's wife! Why did neither of you tell me?” she asked bitterly, looking at Fred too.

“Mom, this place has been good for Sophie, she's really settled here,” he replied, with one eye on his computer.

My mother burst into tears. “Why didn't you want to come home to me? Am I that unbearable?”

I sighed and hugged her. “Mom, I'm sorry. I just really needed some time and space to get my head together and it's more difficult at home. You would have made me more anxious, and fed me too much—”

“It's only because I care. You two treat me like I'm demented.”

“Come on Mom, you know how it was last time. We didn't stop arguing for a second. Things are good here, come and see my room.”

I took her hand and led her to the bedroom. I saw the relief wash over her.

“Oh, it's nice,” she said happily, looking around. “And it's so tidy.” Her eyes widened at the sight of the flowers. “Good god Sophie, they don't water themselves you know. But then you've never had a green thumb.” She took the pot and began to pick off the dry leaves and prod the soil. “I bet you watered it two minutes ago because you knew I was coming.”

“Yeah, sorry,” I admitted.

“What's that monitor?” she asked, curiously observing the desk.

“CCTV.”

I told her about my night job, loading the explanation with unnecessary technical details so that she would get confused and stop talking for a minute.

“All night?” she asked. “You have to sit and watch it all night?”

“No, only when someone's coming or going, but during the week nothing happens after about eleven.”

My mother sighed deeply and started stroking my hair.

“Are you sure you're alright? Tell me the truth,” she asked sweetly.

“Of course Mom, it's all good. Look… Fred even managed to dig out my old college books.”

“He's worth his weight in gold.”

“Yeah, I know, and so are you.”

She resumed her inspection with an evaluation of the drawers and the closet. She then tested the shelf for dust with her index finger, and the television, followed by the desk.

“Good girl Sophie, tidiness and cleanliness are very important.”

I looked at where she was standing and remembered being tangled up on the floor with Adam just a few hours earlier.

“Your Dad would be so proud of you and your brother.”

“Maybe more of Fred—” I muttered.

“Of both of you,” she said, petting my hair again. “Sophie, I think – in fact I'm certain – that things are going to work out for you sooner or later. The tarot lady told me so.”

“What? You still see that old hag?”

“I most certainly do,” she attested. “And you have many great things in your future path.”

“Yeah sure, like last time she told you that ‘fortune and good luck' were on my side, right before my entire life went to shit.”

“Sophie, stop talking like that.”

“Mom, you need to stop going to that witch. She's bad news and everything she says is crap. She's never even predicted something by accident, not even when Dad was sick.”

She stormed out of the room and I followed, vaguely wanting to strangle her. When Dad was in his final days, she spent a fortune to hear that everything would be fine; that all he needed was a little aloe vera juice and some brandy.

“Fred, you're such a sweetheart for taking care of your sister like this. I want you both to come over for dinner tonight, and bring Miranda with you.”

He came to my rescue. “Mom, Sophie has to work. She needs to pay her tuition.”

“Then you're coming for lunch tomorrow,” she said pointing her finger at me.

“As you wish, your majesty.”

“Alright kids, I'll get out of your hair now. You know I love you, right?”

“Yes, Mom,” we replied in unison.

I walked her to the bus stop and returned to my room. I tore the blanket off the bed and ploughed my face into the pillow, inhaling Adam's scent. In my mind I replayed every sequence of our wild night together. My nipples grew hard and I felt a sudden burst of arousal. What was this man doing to me?

The phone rang. It was him – our first phone call. My heart was in my throat.

“Good morning,” I heard him say.

“Good morning,” I replied. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Oh?” he laughed. “Me too. Where are you?”

“In my room.”

“Let him in,” I heard him say. “Sorry Sophie, a client. I just wanted to tell you that I'll see you tonight. Chinese or Japanese food?”

“Chinese.”

“Very well, what do you like?”

“Vegetable noodles with soy sauce and spring rolls.”

“Perfect, see you at eight-thirty.”

“I'll be waiting.”

“I look forward to it,” he said. “Bye for now.”

“See you.”

I hung up and dived onto the bed, feeling oddly elated. It was like being back at college – the first time around. Later, I prepared my backpack and soared to NYU. I followed the classes with impeccable attention and enthusiasm. Susan even asked for a copy of my notes. I returned to the parking lot at 5 p.m. and anxiously waited for Fred to clear off. The moment he got into his car, I ran to the shower. I shaved, washed, dried, and tried to find something remotely decent to wear. I eventually settled on black leggings and a black shirt. I looked like an undertaker. It was the best I could come up with. By 8 p.m., I had butterflies. I lay on the bed with my hands on my stomach. Sure enough, the intercom buzzed at eight-thirty. I watched him arrive, carrying a bag branded with Chinese writing.

“Hungry?” he asked as I opened the door.

Not even slightly, my stomach had knotted at the sight of him.

“Yeah,” I replied.

We went to my room. I took the bag out of his hands and placed the food cartons on the desk. Adam removed his coat and suit jacket, untucked his shirt, undid his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves.

We sat behind the desk. I was a wreck of nerves. He was calm and relaxed.

“Do you mind if I turn on the TV? I'd like follow the developments in the Tokyo stock market.”

“No, go ahead.”

Having found the financial channel, he began to listen to long discussions about variation, spread and speculation, whilst absentmindedly eating his noodles. I uncapped a beer and handed it to him. He took it without averting his eyes from the programme. I opened one for myself and drank half. I felt uneasy and out of place beside him.

I clasped some more noodles between the chopsticks.

“Good?” he asked suddenly.

Before I had the chance to respond, his eyes shifted back to the screen.

We finished the noodles and I opened another beer. Adam stole it from my hand, winked at me, took a sip and then gave it back.

I put my elbows on the table and rested my chin on my fists, observing him. I examined the crease of his eyes, his eyelashes, the profile of his nose, the wave of his lips, all positioned with perfect symmetry. That flawless face required those specific lips and those specific eyes. He gave me a cunning look and slipped a hand onto my knee.

“Have you made any money?” I asked.

“I think I've lost some, unfortunately”, he said. “But that's the trade.”

He loosened his tie and undid the first few buttons of his shirt, never taking his eyes off the TV.

*

I watched his Adam's apple beneath his collar. That tiny protrusion drove me crazy. I reached out to touch it lightly, then rested my hand on his lap. Adam welcomed the gesture and wrapped his arms around my waist. I removed his tie and undid his shirt, caressing his chest and kissing his neck.

“Well hello,” I whispered. “May I distract you for a moment?”

Adam drove his hands under my shirt. I lifted my arms for him to take it off.

“Open the door in your green towel next time,” he muttered into my neck.

I smiled at the memory of the blackout. “I'll bear that in mind.”

He abandoned the television and his carton of noodles, urgently lifting me onto the bed.

“I hate leggings, Sophie,” he said pulling them off. “The matching underwear looks much better.” He freed my breasts and started licking and sucking them.

“I think so too, but it seems like somebody wants to take it off me,” I murmured, excited by his lips.

Adam laughed and bit my neck. “I told you I liked it.”

I removed his shirt and stroked his warm skin. How did he always manage to smell so good? It was a distinctive scent, but it seemed somehow familiar. I felt so dowdy next to him.

“You know, you make me feel like I'm some castaway or something,” I muttered, amused.

Adam stopped his foreplay and looked at me puzzled. “Nothing wrong with a castaway,” he smiled.

His cell phone echoed through the room and he leapt up to answer it.

I heard him talk business and make some comment about the stock market. I pulled off my panties and threw them at him. He smelled them, took off his shoes and undid his trousers, letting them fall to the floor.

“Alright, if it drops below two per cent, sell it all. I have to go Seth. I'll see you in the morning, bye.” Lastly, he removed his boxers and socks. A moment later he was on top of me. He spread my legs and slid easily inside me.

“Oh, you really were waiting for me!” he moaned, biting my chin. He bent his knees and lifted my legs onto his shoulders, moving in and out of me.

“Raise your arms above your head,” he demanded.

I obeyed. Adam lowered my legs onto his hips and pushed forward, in order to insert himself deeper. He put his thumb on my clitoris and began to massage in circles.

“Wet your lips with your tongue,” he said. “And touch your nipples.”

I followed every order, motivated by his penetration – his firm and furious thrusts.

“Squeeze your nipples and pull them.”

As soon as I did this, he pressed harder on my clitoris and I arched my back as a paralyzing orgasm claimed my body. My muscles trembled and my calves began to cramp. I tried to stretch my legs. He realized what was happening and lifted them into the air, raising my butt off the mattress too. He buried himself inside me again, harder and deeper still.

“I'm coming,” he said and let out a rasping orgasm. His panting breath on my neck gave me intoxicating shivers. I sat up and he held me tightly, still on his knees.

I began to kiss him: his face, his mouth, his eyes, his forehead, his cheekbones, his chin, without pausing. In less than ten minutes he had delivered hours' worth of passion.

“You take my breath away,” I gasped between kisses. “How do you do that?”

Adam smiled, lifted me underneath him, withdrew, and stood up. He was still hard, despite his orgasm, and I couldn't resist taking him in my hands and moving closer with my mouth.

I licked the underneath, still warm with my own moisture. He sank between my lips and wrapped his hands around my head, guiding the movement. I sucked on his tip as he ran his fingers through my hair. I opened my jaw wider and pushed him deeper, using my hands to move him in and out. Then, suddenly, there was a thick, warm burst at the back of my throat.

“Swallow,” he ordered.

I rushed to the bathroom. I hated that stuff in my mouth – it was downright nauseating. When I lifted my head from the sink Adam was behind me, smirking.

“I'll decide whether you come in my mouth,” I moaned, staring at him in the mirror.

He hugged me and showered my neck with kisses, pulling me in closer. I was astounded to see that he was still hard.

“I want to fuck you all night,” he mumbled.

He touched me and I watched the reflection of his fingers moving around my lips. He opened my legs and leaned me against the sink. As soon as I found a comfortable position, his penis was inside me once more.

He pumped me again, uncontrollably. The beat of his crotch against my butt cheeks echoed throughout the room. I couldn't imagine being anywhere else now – anywhere without him inside me. My face was burning and my body was drenched in sweat, but the blissful pleasure endured. I stood up straight and pressed the nape of my neck against his shoulder.