Wait for Me (12 page)

Adam took my hand and put it on top of his, which relentlessly continued to stimulate me.

“I want to come while I watch you masturbate,” he said, staring at the mirror.

I replaced his finger with mine and began to touch myself.

Adam grabbed my breasts and squeezed my nipples, stirring a pleasant kind of pain.

“I want to come,” he said hoarsely. “I want to come with you.”

It was easy to trigger my orgasm. He squeezed my nipples again, while I rubbed my clitoris with more and more vigor.

“I'm close.”

I felt a surge of pleasure and, once again, my body was trembling with convulsions. I tightened around Adam's penis, which erupted inside me.

He pulled my hair to turn my head, and pushed his tongue into my mouth. He then let me fall towards the sink and slid out of me. I was lightheaded and felt an unexpected hollowness. Adam attentively dabbed my face, neck and chest with a cool, wet towel.

“Come on you, let's head to bed,” he said, taking me in his arms.

He lay beside me, holding me close. I ran my fingers down his chest, his nipples, his sternum, until I reached his penis.

“Is this normal for you?” I asked.

Adam laughed, turning onto his side and pressing his forehead against mine.

“I want to have you all night. I won't be able to hold off for a whole week – I need more,” he answered, with a strange intensity.

I raised my eyebrows.

“You told me your period's due. How long do they usually last?” he asked.

“Five days.”

He bit his lip. “What about a contraceptive?” he suggested. “The pill? If you want I can ask my doctor for a prescription.”

“I don't know… it gives me water retention,” I grumbled.

“So your breasts might grow? You'd barely notice water retention, you're so small anyway.” He kissed my neck, shifting on top of me.

Why would he ask for something like that? “Adam, what are you getting at? Are you saying you want to see me regularly?”

He drew back. “I don't believe in relationships,” he replied coldly.

“Then what would this be?”

“Sexual attraction.”

“Sexual attraction?” I questioned.

To which Adam stood up, visibly irritated. “Sophie, what do you want me to say? I like women, I like to fuck, and right now you're the woman that I like fucking. I think about it all day – having you, entering you, watching you come. This is what I want right now so this is what I'm offering. I told you, I'm not looking for a love story.”

“So, as long as we have this ‘sexual attraction',” I traced inverted commas in the air. “We'll see one another?”

“Exactly.”

“Just for sex.”

Adam frowned. “Exactly. Are you alright with that?”

He wanted sex, and as far as I was concerned, he could have his pick of the whole planet, hooker or not. Did he not realize that this is how even the most cynical of us form attachments? Could he really see me as a sex object and nothing else? Wholly segregate our burning desire from emotional significance? I had a sliver of doubt. Maybe it was possible for him, but I could not say the same for myself. There was no denying it: I was absolutely consumed.

“Yeah, it's just so that I know. It's fine with me. Like I said, I'm not looking for anything either. As long as we both know the terms there won't be any problems.”

He sat on the bed and stroked my legs. “Perfect.”

My eyes dropped to his penis. “Adam, it's been like that for hours. What's wrong with it?”

“Stimulants. I told you… I want you all night.”

And at 4 a.m. I finally fell asleep, exhausted.

I woke up to a message from him.

I helped Fred to organize the filing in the office and went to my mother's for lunch. Between bouts of yawning, I finished all of my chicken and reluctantly dragged myself to Dr Richardson's office. I briefly considered telling him about my latest exploits, but quickly decided against it. Instead, we talked about my post-college expectations. I diverted him from personal questions by listing various potential job opportunities in PR – the last thing I wanted to pursue. It was a struggle to feign enthusiasm through my pervasive disenchantment. I concluded the session by hypothesizing about a future in the arts too – slightly better suited to my interests. We said goodbye with the customary handshake, but just before I closed the door, he said a strange thing that made me stop in my tracks.

“Sophie, nobody is forcing you to suffer.”

What was he suggesting? That I was relishing my own pain? Apparently so.

On returning to the parking lot, I went to the bathroom and realized that my period had arrived. Relief. He came inside me so many times and it had planted a seed of concern.

Ben and Ester arrived on time that day, curious to know why I hadn't come out to meet them last night. I lied, telling them I fell asleep. We drank our habitual beers and talked about the day just passed. Ester was particularly riled about one of the customers – she kept blending her English with what I assume were Spanish profanities.

After a long string of curse words, she finished with: “That stuck up bitch needs to get some, and I know exactly where she needs to get it.”

“Who needs to get some?” I asked.

“Some chick that lives above the café. I think she works for a travel company,” Ben said. “I've been hearing about this all day long.”

“I tell you Sophie, in all my life I never met such a fucking bitch.”

“What happened?”

“Look, this morning I was calm. I fix the tables, I come back behind the counter and she turns and crashes into my tray. You can imagine the mess! She calls the manager, the crazy bitch… and her fucking satin shoes. Who the fuck buys shoes made of satin? These godforsaken people.”

Ben sighed, exhausted. “I'll summarise – Ester has to pay for the shoes. Five-hundred and forty-five dollars.”

My eyes popped out of my head. “But… it was an accident!”

“Exactly,” said Ester. “Try telling that to the bitch though!”

There was no chance of her calming down any time soon. I was spared by the arrival of the bus; poor Ben would have to manage her war dance singlehandedly. I watched as they pulled away and felt sad at the thought that I wouldn't be seeing them much any more. Ben was about to open his bar and I guessed that Ester would go with him. We promised to meet for a weekly pizza, but those kinds of plans never really endure. I would be alone again soon. I naturally glanced at the twelfth floor of the opposite building, wondering, as always, what he was doing and whether he was thinking about me. I was certainly thinking about him. I shook my head, shivering. Remember the life jacket, I thought to myself.

The following day, crippled by stomach ache, I was curled up on my brother's chair with a coffee. As I was waiting for the painkillers to kick in, I saw Adam stroll through the car park.

My heart skipped a beat. I wanted to run to him – let him sweep me off my feet. Instead, I saw a woman appear from nowhere and kiss him on the cheek. He smiled at her in a manner that I hadn't seen before. They stopped to talk beside a red Mercedes coupé. The woman was wearing a black tailored suit and six-inch heels. Her platinum hair was gathered in a tight bun, smiling seductively at him, bag in front of knees and her chest pushed forwards. There was something intimate between them. The entire scene was very unfamiliar.

“Who's that?” I asked Fred.

He briefly looked up from the computer.

“Her name's Alice Truman, she's a customer.”

“Never seen her before.”

“She travels a lot – manages a chain of resorts around the world. Two months here, two months there. She's never around… only came back yesterday.”

I wondered whether this was Ester's ‘bitch' from yesterday. If not then she was certainly mine from today. I saw her slide her hand down Adam's sleeve and perform a flirtatious laugh. Adam touched her shoulder lightly and his finger brushed her neck. Watching this display, I couldn't help imagine how many women he must have slept with, hookers aside. They both looked at their cell phones. Clearly fixing a date, I thought. A dark strand of jealousy began to writhe in the pit of my stomach.

“I wonder if they're still fucking—” my brother muttered.

“What?” I asked, freezing.

“Adam and Miss Truman”.

I shook my head. “What do you mean?”

“Oh yeah, they were at it like rabbits. When I first installed CCTV, I was testing the video quality one night and caught them going at it on the hood of her Mercedes. Man… that was a real sight.”

Holy fuck.

“Did you watch?” I asked, horrified.

“Erm… yeah—” he said with embarrassment. “Well what the hell was I meant to do? I was at home, I was testing the cameras and it was right there in front of me.

“I wasn't alone, by the way… Miranda was there too,” he added.

I turned to the monitor again. They were both smiling now. The whole spectacle had slaughtered any illusion that I might have been special to him. Of course, I had entertained the possibility that our ‘sexual attraction' would evolve, but it was just as he had so clearly explained: he liked women, he liked to fuck and he merely followed his illustrious sexual instincts.

With a lump in my throat, I returned to my bedroom. I tore the blankets off the bed and threw everything into the laundry bag. I wanted to rid the place of his scent. I also added all of the clothes that I had worn the previous day and rushed out into the street.

From the sidewalk, I saw Adam's car leave the lot. We exchanged a quick glance and I mouthed an exaggerated ‘fuck you' at him.

Moments later, my cell phone rang. I didn't answer. I had to let it go. Answering it would only unleash a plethora of wasted anger – anger that would lead nowhere. The only thing he was offering me was his cock. His terms were abundantly clear and I had accepted them. Stupid, stupid girl, I thought. As I arrived at the dry cleaners, I received a message.

‘You're what's up', I wanted to answer, but went with something a little more diplomatic.

Engrossed by the hypnotic movement of the washing machine, I thought of Dr. Richardson's words. Nobody is forcing me to suffer. Those words could set me on a different path. I had to end this thing. As I was moving the blanket and clothes into the washer, another message come through.

Waiting for the cycle to finish, I went out into the street to call him – to tell him once and for all.

He answered at the third ring.

“Hello Sophie, good to hear from you.”

“Am I interrupting?”

“Not at all. How are you?”

“I'm good,” I replied. “Listen, I called you to tell you that—”

“One moment,” he said. I heard him talking to somebody about an appointment, probably his PA. “I'm back. I apologize but I have a meeting any second now. So, when do I get to see you?”

“Um—”

“What are you doing tonight? I thought we could see a movie.”

“Sorry. I'm going to my mother's,” I lied.

There was a long pause.

“What time will you be back?”

I didn't have an answer for this.

“I don't know. I have an important lecture tomorrow so I'll be up early and—”

“Has something happened?” he asked.

Just that you turned into a prize-winning asshole, I thought.

“Nope, but we can't have sex anyway.”

“Well, there are ways around that,” he said smugly. “We can explore the other options.”

I stayed silent, embarrassed by his confidence.

“Sophie?”

“Yes.”

“I can't stop thinking about—”

“Fucking me?” I asked, pre-emptively.

“Just the thought of it drives me crazy. Sophie, I want to see you tonight.”

“Well, you could always fuck Miss Truman on the hood of her Mercedes. You're hardly short of women. Oh, and fuck you,” I yelled and hung up.

Why was I being so immature and possessive? The phone rang again. I instantly regretted those words. I might as well have said: I am jealous and I want you all to myself. Please love me, please.

I muted my phone, went back inside, collected my clothes and returned to the parking lot. I prepared my backpack and headed out to catch the bus, music blaring through the headphones. I found a seat and closed my eyes, drifting into fantasy. My nipples grew hard. This man was bad news; I was still too fragile for this. I entered the lecture hall in a state of immense disquiet.

I slid behind a desk and turned the music off. I had ten missed calls, four voicemails and two texts.

Through headphones, I listened to the voicemails.

Then I read the two text messages.