“Hello, is someone there?”
Except for steady breathing, silence extends on the other end of the phone.
“Hello, J & I Events,” I repeat once more with my voice louder this time. “Is there something I can help you with?”
A smooth velvet voice touches my ear, “Hello, Isla?”
Inhaling pointedly, I drop the phone like it’s a hot potato, my hands and body shut down. No way can this be happening. He can’t have found me in a city of millions. Isn’t that impossible?
Or… is it?
I’m quivering uncontrollably. With post haste, I collect the phone and have a seat on my comforting lounge and decide what to do. Hell, I have a long list of what I would do to him if I had my chance again. And returning the favor would be first on my list…
Unsure if he’s still on the line, I try to gather some composure but fail miserably, squeaking into the phone, hoping that I have it wrong.
“Can you tell me who is speaking, please?”
“Sweetness,” the familiar voice says, “it’s Alex.”
Sweetness…? I repeat in my head. I could get used to this. I need to snap out of it, I certifiably cannot get used to it.
“How did you get my number?” I splutter out, retreating to my room to grab my favorite blanket, and wrap it around me before I go further into shock, sitting propped up on my bed, knees drawn up close to my chest.
“I attended the speed dating night on Saturday night and requested your number. Lucky for me, the man at the front desk took pity on me as I wasn’t able to talk to you.”
Fuck, I knew the other night was a mistake… and I hope not a deadly one? Only time will tell…
Barely registering what he is saying, I focus on his voice and try to calm my erratic breathing. A panic attack will set in if I’m not careful.
“Isla, are you still there?”
I can’t bring myself to speak, but I’m still listening.
“Isla, please just let me talk. I wanted to apologize for my ungentlemanlike behavior earlier today. It was wrong for me to take advantage of you, so I would like to say sorry to you in person if you would allow me?” Unsure of my voice, I shake my head at myself, realizing he can’t see me through the phone… What an idiot I am…
“Alex,” I begin scratching the back of my head, “I appreciate your call, but I am a big girl and what happened this morning, I did so willingly. And I will admit, it was undeniably incredible, but meeting up is a very bad idea. I don’t have time to dedicate to anyone at the moment. My events management business is starting to get a regular clientele of prestigious families who expect my attention twenty-four-seven. I’m sorry, but I’m too busy at the moment,” I whisper in a steady breath, trying to convince myself, more than Alex. Crap…
A suppressed sound can be heard from the other end of the phone. I picture him sitting in a lounge chair, waiting for me to answer, confident that I would run out the door without a second thought to see him. To be conquered, like all his other conquests I imagine he’s had. So many nights I’ve dreamed about being someone’s somebody. Mattering to them. Their prized possession. Someone who would master their sexual techniques on my body… and me on them.
This request, however, can’t be granted. It can’t be.
“Isla, please let me buy you a cup of coffee, lunch, anyth—?” Hearing apprehension in his tone sends my heart pumping faster than it should. I’m about to endure a panic attack. I hang up.
This is nothing new for me. Panic attacks are part of my life, but I’ve become well—rehearsed at ensuring they don’t overtake my whole life. Hugging my knees in tighter, I try belly breathing to calm my nerves. One…in…out, two…in…out, three…in…out, four…in…out, five… In a semi calmer state…and continuing on until I reach ten, I relax my eyes and start thinking of what clients I am meeting with in the upcoming week: Mr. and Mrs. Green for their 60th wedding anniversary, Scott —hosting a surprise 21st birthday for his partner, Mrs. Maddock’s baby shower, and I need to touch base with Scarlett who is planning her wedding which is taking place in seven months at Sydney Harbour. Jules and I will be kept busy for the entire time I’m sure.
I relax my legs so they are stretched out on my king-size bed and I drift back to the ocean. His hairless and extensive chest, his strong hands, his thick cock rubbing on my ass, my fevered scream in my head when I splintered into tiny fragments of bliss, and the pained look in his eyes when I told him to stay away. For the ten-hundredth time… I don’t know this man…but hell, how I want to!
Urgently, I fumble through the blanket and bed for my phone. I hit the received calls button, locate his number, breathe two deep breaths and send him a text message.
… yes…
Before I can change my mind, I turn the phone off and place it on my bedside table. Swinging my legs off the bed, I’m strangely placated and daringly excited? I remember one other time when my younger brother and I were together with my mother in her bedroom, comforting and hugging each other when we had learned the fate of my father. It’s a memory etched into my head forever. Two very differing emotions, allowing for hope at the same time.
My body is drained. I walk to the bathroom, light the scented candles scattered throughout the small white and silver room, and turn on the knobs to run a warm bath, filling it with vanilla and rose bubbles. My favorite for when I need comfort.
Deciding that I have earned a drink, I quickly go to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of Durif, a smooth and slightly bold red wine, because I am feeling bold tonight, the wine complements my body. I return to the water halfway up the sides of the claw foot bath and undress, sinking my body into bliss. Staring up at the ceiling, I gaze at my spectacular chandelier. Trying to make this apartment part of my inner self, I have decorated it to suit my decor. When I decided to place a small chandelier in the bathroom, Kameron laughed, but I wanted my own slice of paradise and empowerment it bought me. This admittedly gave me both. I wonder why a light fixture could give me so much pleasure? I’m ridiculous. But growing up in a small place with my brother, Benjamin, and my mother and father in a two-bedroom house, with only the necessities, no luxuries, I just couldn’t resist adding a bit of brightness and sparkle to my own place.
Feeling serene and taking in the smell of roses and vanilla, I think back to my childhood. Gosh, I loved to play with my younger brother of two years. We lived our lives together in everything. I would pretend I was the teacher, he the student, or cops and robbers. Of course, I was the cop. We were best friends, talking to each other in bed nightly about our day at school, who was pretending to like who at school, what Missy Smith was getting up to at school today with all her followers. Benjamin basically got along with everyone at school. I, however, didn’t fit in with many students as I was not one to follow the leader. I was quiet and kept to myself unless I had a significant opinion on something, and that wasn’t often. Not a good combination if you’re trying to be in with the popular crowd. It didn’t worry me in the slightest, to be honest. It gave me time to plan about where I would end up and what I was going to do with my life.
Entering middle school was a whole different ball game. We lived in the same house, but by the time he reached fourteen years old, Benjamin was known by everyone. He was the ‘popular’ kid at school, never short of people hanging around him or girls swooning at his feet. He was on many of the sports teams and idolized by every male in the school. But his popularity is what made us drift apart. Living in the same room all those years…started to be a challenge. When you have two teenagers going through puberty, things will become strained. One day, when I was sixteen, I came home and a makeshift wall had been erected in the middle of our small room. My brother, from that day, only existed to me in shorts bursts of “Hi, Isla,” “bye, see you soon,” or “take care of yourself.” Which is what I had to do because there was no other choice.
My parents were there but disconnected from our lives. Dad was so busy trying to make ends meet that he was stressed to the breaking point more often than not. And by then, the yelling and crying was a natural occurrence in our house—we just expected it. Mother dressed to impress every day. Heels matching the color of her dress with her hair styled impeccably upon her head. Jewels adorned every finger and ear lobe. Her neck always wrapped with an extravagant pendant. Make-up a necessity. She was always trying to be the perfect Stepford wife, running around for dad and doing exactly what she was told. Her sobbing and sometimes screaming when we were young was normal. Unfortunately, nothing else was normal and nothing was how it appeared to be from the outside.
And at only seventeen years old, all that changed and so did my life…