+1+
“You really shouldn’t fuck your boss.”
What. The. Hell?
The creamy finish of my berry berry pink lipstick was now smeared down my chin thanks to those six words. I carefully wiped the lipstick away and peered into the mirror at the woman behind me who had spoken those words. I’d barely noticed her when I came into the ladies room, which now seemed like an impossible feat.
She was stretched out on the couch in the Day Break Bistro’s women’s lounge in an nicely tailored black suit with a tight fitted vest over broad shoulders with an ice blue tie underneath, she wasn’t wearing a stitch of makeup, and her bronze and copper hair was close cropped on the sides and perfectly styled on top… the strong scent of her amber and salty ocean cologne was like a hazy cloud.
“Excuse me?” I said politely while looking at her through the mirror.
“You really shouldn’t fuck your boss.” she said again this time a little slower.
She stood up and she was much taller than I expected. If it came down to it I did not think I could take her. But at this point in my crappy day . . . what did I have to lose?
“What?” I turned to face her and throwing my lipstick into my purse.
“I saw you when you walked in” She said getting closer, “The longing looks, the head-turning dress, the hesitant touches, hushed serious conversations, and the distant familiarity. You really shouldn’t fuck your boss.”
Her piercing blue eyes were looking at right at me, almost through me. If she took one more step forward we’d be touching. Instead she took an imperceptible step to the side and peered into the mirror next to me.
“I am not trying to fuck my boss”, I said. For the first time I noticed the young woman in the corner trying to quickly feed her fussy baby.
The suited woman twirled a few loose tendrils of her hair so a few pieces hung well…rakishly was the best way to describe it. She slid her eyes over to me in the mirror.
“So the handsome man with light eyes is…”
“. . . my business partner.” I said
“And you’re in town for…”
“…work”
“And you keep staring longingly at him because…”
“… well I…”
“And you took your panties off in the stall because…”
“I did…I…look…I--”
“You want to fuck your boss.” she finished peering into the mirror at her long eyelashes.
I snatched up my purse, “You should really mind your own business.”
“You really shouldn’t fuck your boss. It never ends well.”
“I do not want to—“
“Sure, I bet you—“
“Listen”, I said stepping up to her, “I do not want to fuck my boss. I am fucking my boss, because I deserve it and it’s fucking Valentine’s Day. But not because I want to, trust me this is the last place I want to be, but the IRS is a bitch so we had fly down here and prepare for a last minute fucking business tax audit and all of our records are in the fucking cloud and our geriatric accountants are in fucking Manhattan and I’m apparently the only one who knows how to use a computer.
Did I want to be here? No. I had plans to spend Valentine’s Day in Saint-Tropez with a sexy charming, smart, funny and adventurous 56- year old French venture capitalist with an amazing head of hair and recently refilled Viagra prescription. We were going to go wine tasting at a beachside winery, have dinner at a five star restaurant and make love all night in his penthouse suite with an ocean view. That was how I was going to spend my Valentine’s Day—- instead I’ve been defending line items and deductions to a pair of CPA who kept calling me sweetheart and asking me to make coffee.
Now, Fierro —who is not my boss---is polite and congenially, so he said because I had to cancel on Mr. Sexy Venture Capitalist, that he would be my date for this evening. This entire evening. So far I’ve sampled a clearance variety box of wine from Duane Reade in the back of a cab , sat by a freezing cold hotel pool and now I’d like to get through this three-star over-priced dinner so I can…how did you put it ? Fuck my boss.”
“You know drinking in the back of a cab is illegal.” She said after I unloaded on her.
I just started at her and then opened my purse again to fix my mascara. Where the hell had all that come from?
“I’m sorry.” I said turning back to the mirror and looking at her reflection. I was so embarrassed. I hadn’t meant to just burst like that. It’s been a very trying 24 hours, “Anyway, he’s not my boss. We are business partners. He owns the business I run the charitable arm. Partners. You do know it’s the 21st century”
“Trust me I know what year it is.”
The woman with the baby seemed to have calmed down. I felt for her, how many times had I been the single mom trying to have a romantic evening with a needy baby in tow? Well it was once . . . but who was counting. I wondered if I should tell her the wonders of Nyquil.
“It’s just”, the tall woman said, and “That man doesn’t have a drop of desire for you.”
I slipped my purse over my shoulder, I should have left but I didn’t want her to have the last word.
“Who do you think you are?” I said, “That is none of your business.”
“Everything has to be so black and white with women like you”, she said taking out a pack of cigarettes.
“I don’t even want to know what that means.”
“Straight girls”, she clarified. She had pulled a lighter out of nowhere and just as the flame sparked she noticed some of the looks she was getting.
“I’m not like that. I’m not stupid. I don’t need someone to be attracted to me to take me out to dinner...”
“Or to fuck you”, she said tossing away the unused cigarette, “Aren’t you considerate.”
“Here is how I see it. I’m a musician”, I said, “A classical pianist. I don’t like to sing but I could if I wanted to. If it was friendly. If it was just for fun. I don’t like to shove people into boxes”
“What’s your name?” she asks casually pulling on her suit jacket.
“…Clara”, I wasn’t sure why I told her. Something about her intense gaze caught me off guard.
“Clara. I don’t like metaphors or euphemisms or talking politics, so here we go. My reservation is in ten minutes and I bet I could enthusiastically make you sing all night long. If after some consideration this whole asexual guilt-intercourse from your not-boss doesn’t work out …come find me. We can have some fun.”
She hands me a plain white card with her phone number artfully scrawled on it. I flip it over and see ‘SGI Security’ reflected on the other side in shiny silver letters.
“I…I….are you alone?”
“No”, she said leaning back on the door and disappearing back into the restaurant.
+2+
I waited five minute then headed out the door and back over to the bar. I felt eyes on me. Maybe the black off the shoulder bodycon dress with a petite slit in the front had been a bit much, but I’d been packed and ready for Saint-Tropez when the accountants called. I certainly wasn’t wearing the stuffy navy blue suit I’d bought at Brooks Brothers in JFK this morning.
Fierro was still sitting at the end of the bar where I’d left him. He hadn’t technically changed out his suit from earlier he’d just slipped off his tie in the car—an act I for some reason could not stop picturing—and loosened that one button that always held my attention and his sleeves were rolled in a very formal way.
He was looking contemplatively out the window, oblivious to all the couples around him. The tips of his fingers brushed the stem of my wineglass filled with a blush pink wine mixed with fresh blueberry puree and topped with Dom Perigon making the signature purple beverage sparkle and pop. It was called Love Potion No. 9. Not worth the 40$, but I wanted to put it on my travel blog. I watched him lift the glass to his lips and I stumbled a little bit on my five-inch heels.
I smoothed my dress, closed my purse and walked towards him. When I approached we traded places, me taking the uncomfortable bar stool while he stood. He almost imperceptibly placed the cloth napkin over my lap, I shifted nervously now aware that he’d silently proven he disapproved of my dress or maybe he just thought some other men would be assholes.
Not Addison Fierro though.
He was always such a gentleman. So polite…chivalrous…honorable? So not what I needed tonight.
“Our table is ready”, he said, the slight brush of me against him when I stood sent a cloying warmth through me. I picked up my drink before he could and followed the hostess to the back of the Day Break Bistro. The white cloth tables were small and intimate, but the host led us to the back where a row of smaller tables (sans-tablecloth) were situated along a long communal booth.
The cheap seats.
I took the booth seat, not wanting to give him a chance to pull my chair out. Why couldn’t this be enough? Why was wealthy, kind, polite, generous and accomplished man not enough for me? What was wrong with me that all I could think of was touching, licking, kissing, sucking--
“--Clara” I jumped when Fierro said my name, splashing my wine all over the table.
“I’m sorry”, Wait. Why was I apologizing, “I mean…Yes. You were saying?”
“I appreciate you taking the time to attend the audit. I know you had plans but we don’t want to give the government any reason to investigate us.”
“Yes, I know”, I said looking over the sparkling wine menu. His words were always so carefully chosen and delivered so confidently—elegantly, not brash... He was such a quiet man, his intense eyes studying the world in a way I used to wish they’d study me. I crossed my legs and tried to ignore the heady feeling that was slowly consuming me every time my mind imagined things I shouldn’t.
“It’s been a very good year”, he continued, “Clara you have quite a talent for investing. The returns will go very far in changing the lives of families who weren’t as fortunate as we were.”
“Well, I just found the right investment clubs to join”, where I just happen to also met irresistible venture capitalist, who ethically I couldn’t see…but they had friends and silver fox uncles.
“I don’t know what we will do If you go back to teaching next year.” Fierro continued.
“Well I. . . “
I drifted off as I saw the hostess leading the tall woman from the bathroom and a man over to where we were sitting, her date had his arm around her waist and they were both holding empty highball glasses. The woman noticed me but kept her eyes on her date. For a moment she seemed just as shocked to see me. Guess she didn’t think I’d be in the cheap seats. The host led them to the table right next to us. Luckily the man slid into the booth seat next to me.
“Clara?” Fierro asked
“I…” What had I been saying? Something about going back into teaching? Did I want that…I think I did? Who was that woman anyway, “…I’m not hungry. Do we have to do this dinner thing?”
“It’s already been paid for, Clara.”
“Yes, but I’m not really up for this.”
He softly cleared his throat, “Clara, I don’t think there is really a need to rush the evening. I promised I would make up for your ruined weekend, and I’m not inclined to rescind my offer to—“
“Oh, God”, I noticed the woman smirk at that, “It’s not that. We don’t even have to do that. I’m really just tired.”
“Clara”, I jumped when I heard the woman say my name. No one ever said my name like that. It was so teasing with just a hint of affection.
“You know each other?” her date said.
“We met in the bathroom”, the woman said.
“You made a friend, Sera?” the man said.
Sera smiled at her date and turned back to me.
“So…is this your boyfriend?” I asked since I guess we were doing small talk.
“We’re married,” She answers but I notice they aren’t wearing rings.
Turning back to my table I see Fierro has pulled aside the host and is quietly discussing cancelling our reservation.
“We won’t be able to offer a refund”, the host says nervously, “I suppose we could pack your meals to go but the vegan meal will take longer.”
“That’s fine.” he says giving the host a crisp $50 bill for my drink.
“You’re a vegan?” Sera said looking at me, “You don’t seem like the kind of woman who doesn’t eat meat.”
I really hoped that wasn’t a dig at my weight. I hadn’t felt an ounce of guilt sliding into this very small size 8 dress.
“I am not a vegan”, I said under my breath. When squints at me, then she and her date--husband I guess-- exchanged a quick look before her husband turned to face our table.
“What a coincidence”, the man said casually crossing his legs and leaning in to our table, “I’m a vegan too.”
Fierro, who up until now had paid them very little mind now looked up. The man extended his hands to Fierro. He didn’t take it but instead he studied the man’s dark eyes and the very unique scar across his mouth. I couldn’t read Fierro’s mind but I had the feeling he also sensed something about this couple seemed very…strange.
“Paris Prince”, he said
“Fierro.”
Paris waited for more, but Fierro kept silent.
“Well, I’m not really a vegan”, Paris continued conversationally as if we’d invited him to continue, “so much as I’m an extreme pacifist. I just can’t bring myself to eat anything that was alive. I mean only thing I eat that’s alive is her.” He laughed at his own joke and after a long silence Paris took the hint and turned back to his table
What did Sera mean by “Fun” when she gave me her card anyway? Did she mean like an affair? With me? But it just didn’t seem like she and her husband kept many secrets or hands off each other. Sera seemed to notice my gaze wandering to her table. God, her eyes were so intense. She was confident in a quiet sort of way, worldly but also innocent? My eyes traveled down where her fingers, with a glossy sheen of clear polish on the trim nails, was not-so innocently running along the edge of each petal of the orchid on the table. She was quietly listening to her husband talk a mile a minute while circling and stroking the center of the flower. I felt very self-conscious again and re-crossed my leg, but the growing pressure between them was so fucking distracting.
“—Clara”
“Yes”, I jumped again and called out a little to enthusiastically
I turned my attention fully back to my table. I hadn’t even noticed Fierro was talking to me. Had I always been such a terrible date?
“I. Yes…what was that?”
He cleared his throat and I assumed he started over.
“Before we leave…I did want to give you this to show my appreciation.”
He slid a velvet Cartier jewelry box over to me, I hadn’t really been expecting this, but isn’t that what gentlemen did? The gesture was sweet and just like that my heart fluttered a little. Inside the box was a white gold brooch shaped like a paint palette with pastel colored crystals set as the paint colors. There was a little card inside that said :
I love you, Happy Valentine’s Day
“It’s…lovely?” That card was a bit much though. Wasn’t it?
“I’m sorry Clara.”
“No, it’s beautiful. I-“
“No”, he continued, “That is…I’m sorry, this was meant for Rose.”
“Oh”, I said letting out a breath, “She’ll love it.”
“I left in such a rush I picked up the wrong box. Although think I may have given our daughter a diamond necklace.”
“She can keep it”, I said. She was probably going to take it and hide it from me anyway, “Wait…you knew I was going to be in Saint-Tropez for Valentine’s Day…why did you buy me a gift?”
He looked up at me realizing he let something slip, “Well, I—“
“You have a daughter”, Sera said interrupting, she’d removed her hands from the flower and casually licked the bit of pollen off her thumb and I felt the heat rise beneath my dress. Sera’s eyes were calculating again. I guess that hadn’t figured motherhood in her indictment of me. This had also seemed to spark the interest of her husband.
Fierro and I had no choice but to turn back to them.
“Yes”, I said slightly pissed off that she had been ease-dropping.
I opened my phone where I had one of Rose’s school pictures, she wasn’t smiling but she was standing in front of the school in her uniform. The lighting was generous and her hair was in an array of waves. Sometimes I thought it was a miracle she showed up on film at all.
The couple dropped their eyes to the photo and looked back up at us decidedly uninterested. I usually always got a comment on her eyes, or how we had the same hair or how much she looked like us. I mean Rose and I were practically twins it was hard to not notice.
“She’s eleven—“
“Twelve”, Fierro corrected.
“Twelve.”, I said doing the math in my head.
“Do you really have to leave”, The Paris said, “I feel like we could get to know each other. We like meeting new people …mixing things up?
“I…we’ve just had a long day so…” I started saying.
Meeting new people?
Mixing things up?
He was definitely in on whatever Sera had insinuated in the ladies’ room.
Isn’t that what my Saint-Tropez trip was about? Living the most indulgent spoiled slutty rich girl fantasy that I thought about every time I went to bed alone. I wanted to be more adventurous, take some risk and…mix things up. I took the business card Sera had given me from my purse and held it under the table.
“Clara”, Fierro said and I realized he was standing. I stood up on shaky legs. I walked around the table and took a quick glance back to see Sera and Paris exchange casual shrugs, as I turned I ran right into the waiter and the poorly packed food he’d been carrying flew across the room and tumbled out onto the floor.
The manager rushed over and was offering to make us another set of meals.
“Its fine, we are leaving” I said.
“Please don’t”, Paris said, “I feel bad for making you and your husband uncomfortable. Unlike my beautiful soulmate, I have a bit of empathy.”
“They aren’t married”, Sera said, “They are in town for business. An audit.”
“Really?” the man said, “You know I am a CPA. I love a good audit.”
He produced a business card out of nowhere and extended it towards us. After a long moment Fierro took it.
“This says you’re a tailor?” I peered at the logo on the business card.
“Tailor, CPA, CFO, fuckboy…I do a little bit of everything.” he said.
I noticed Sera roll her eyes as he continued talking about his career, which I found oddly charming. There was a comfort between them I didn’t understand. I mean I could fake that flirtatiousness with any of the guys I’d swiped up, left, right or down on, but there was something genuine with them.
“Maybe we can stay for dinner”, I decide as Paris turned back to Sera.
“If that’s what you want”, Fierro says.
I didn’t like the shared satisfied looks on the Princes faces as we sat back down.
“Before we are interrupted again”, Fierro continues completely oblivious to the couple, “I do want to be sure you understand how thankful I am you took the time to make this trip, Lucie because--
“What”, I looked up and I could feel Paris and Sera’s eyes on me.
Fierro hadn’t even noticed he’d made the slip-up. He never did. It took him a moment to even realize what he’d done. It always did.
“I’m sorry, Clara.”
“Why do you do this? Why do you always do this? I never call you Peter.”
“Clara, now is not the time.”
“Are you thinking about her? Do you still think about her every Valentine’s Day?”
“I honestly hadn’t until this very moment.” he said his voice going quieter while mine went louder.
“That’s not true. You think about her at ever every time we are alone. I don’t know if it’s guilt or if you wish she was here, sitting across from you in a sensible dress, calling you Addie and charming you, while spending your money. This is why I wanted to spend Valentine’s Day in Saint-Tropez. I wanted to be with someone who actually wants me.”
“Ms. DeLune”, He said clearly bothered by my lack constraint in public, “I consider you to be one of my dearest friends and I—“
“You don’t mean that, Mr. Fierro. You don’t just buy your dearest friends a diamond necklace--”
“Clara, it’s your birthstone.”
“That doesn’t—“
“I’m sorry”, Paris interrupted, “But could you keep it down we are trying to have a meal here.”
“Are you kidding me?” I snapped at Paris Prince, “You and your wife have been bothering us all night.”
“Not my wife”, he clarified, “And yes. We’re being friendly because we’ve been trying to pick you up. You’ve been eye-fucking my Seraphina since we sat down. I thought we were having a connection. Or did you want to have a fight you two have clearly had multiple times before.”
“Excuse me.” What did he know about our fights? Well they were more like cordial disagreements but still.
“Look”, Paris said, “If there is one thing I’ve learned since meeting Sera, is that adventurous sex can chill anybody the fuck out. And I’ve never met two people who need to chill out more. Think of it as consensual hot sweaty orgasmic Xanax”
“What?”
“I mean”, He continued while Sera just kept her smoldering gaze on me, “We can even involve this Lucie person if you like, I have a very large queen sized bed.”
“…isn’t a king bigger?” I asked because I was probably drunk
“Not in our house”, Sera said fiddling with that flower again.
I. Was. Speechless?
“We’ll take care well care of her for you”, Sera said making eye contact with Fierro. Who seemed unmoved by all of this? I could tell deep down inside he was thinking about something but outwardly he was very calm, steady and neutral. Meanwhile the Italian in me wanted to flip this table over…even though I was slightly flattered but also offended …yet turned on? I was definitely turned on… But still they had no right to keep interrupting our night to-
“Alright, then.” Fierro finally said.
“What?” I blurted out.
“I don’t think either of us can properly enjoy dinner after those statements. We could always stand to make new friends, Clara.”
“What…” I said again.
“Great, the food here is pretentious and disgusting”, Paris said taking Sera’s hand, “I miss when it was The Blue Cafe.”
Fierro stopped to pick up our coats, “That restaurant closed in 1952.”
“Did it?” Paris said shrugging on his own slim fitting black pea coat.
“Yes I…I’ve read that.” Fierro said.
“Hmm, me too.” Paris said and for a few seconds they seemed to size one another up in a way that I found concerning and interesting.
Fierro helped me into my coat and lead me to the door, I could hear Paris and Sera closely following behind us. I was moving on autopilot…what was happening? Is this what he thought I wanted? Did I want this? I mean I didn’t not want it? Or was I just drunk?
Paris was pulling Sera along with him, he must have been drunk because once we were outside he started dancing with her on the sidewalk even though there was no music playing and they were getting in the way of pedestrians, they spun very close to me and Paris let Sera’s hand go just long enough to trap me in between them.
I took the moment to slip the business card Sera had given me in the bathroom back into her jacket pocket, she noticed but didn’t say anything.
Paris was humming as they swayed, I just sort of stood there between them. How could they be so happy and carefree? I thought I knew what it was like to have a soulmate but there was a connection to them that was so strong I could almost feel it. There was something warm and cold about being between them. I slipped out from between them and they continued dancing in a small circle. I had to talk to Fierro.
“We should get a cab”, Fierro said before I could pull him aside. His serious authoritative voice breaking through whatever world the Princes were in.
“Right”, Paris said giving Sera a half-hearted dip and headed towards the curb.
“But-“I started but Fierro had his arm around my waist and that touch made me very aware of the panties in my purse. He let Paris and Sera half dance half walk to the corner to hail a cab. Fierro took imperceptible step backwards and pulled me with him, we were very slowly moving farther away from them. When the Princes were focused on the street, Fierro tapped the button on his key ring the car lights flashed and we dashed into the silver Aston Martin parked out front.
Before Sera and Paris could turn around, he pulled out of the narrow space did a quick U-turn and drove Uptown.
“Oh my God”, I said putting on my seat belt. Now that the fog of lust was mostly gone, I could think clearly.
“Are you alright?” Fierro asked.
“Yes. I mean they seemed harmless but I also think they were serial killers?”
“There was something very odd about them. I think I’ve seen that man before?”
“Are you sure?”
“You don’t forget a face like that”,
I nodded remembering his scar. Then I burst out laughing like an idiot.
“Clara?”
“Oh My God”, I said, “I thought…I mean I actually… thought you...” I looked over at him and realized I didn’t feel comfortable saying what I thought was going to happen, “Um…so…what now ?”
+3+
“I’m sorry your Valentine’s Day didn’t go as planned Clara.”
I shook my head and placed my arm in his as we walked back to the hotel from the Starbucks around the corner, surprisingly it was one of the only places with an open table this evening.
“I’d take sous vide eggs, lemon cake, almond butter and a cherry Frappuccino over salmon mouse any day”, I said tossing my empty cup into a trash can, “And that coffee saved you from have to eat me—I—eat in front of me.”
He hadn’t noticed me stumble. He seemed to be considering what I’d’ said, as if he didn’t know the running joke Emile and I had about living with a man neither of us could recalling seeing eat. I wrapped my arm a little tighter around his, we weren’t far from the hotel, it was freezing but somehow the walk didn’t bother me.
“I meant Saint-Tropez.”
“It’s fine. I don’t think I was ready for a trip like that. So…”
“To answer your question from earlier”, he continued, “I purchased the necklace before I knew about Saint-Tropez. It was a filigrees gold and glass heart shaped cage with a diamond suspended in it. I thought it was the perfect gift for someone who is protective with their heart.”
I wasn’t really sure how I felt about that, but since we were answering unanswered questions.
“Are you still always thinking about Lucie?” I asked remembering what had started our tiff earlier.
“Occasionally”, he said, “Not so much anymore, to be honest it kind of frightens me”
“Why?”
“For so long everything I understood about love was based on my relationship. All things considered I’ve know you almost as long as I did Lucie.”
“Really?” I said because I still felt like I barely knew him
at all.
“Knowing you has changed my life in obviously larger, but also smaller ways that I am very thankful for. It’s difficult not to be taken by someone who makes your life fuller.”
“That’s sweet”, I said. Of course sweet really on my mind as the caffeine was slowly jumpstarting the feelings I’d been ignoring all evening, I let my hand slide into his, his skin was so smooth and I felt the tenuous grasp of his long fingers.
When we arrived back at the hotel at a rather sad 9 pm, I felt unaccomplished and hungry for something that wasn’t food. I was still holding his hand and he followed me into the private elevator, I swiped my key card and the private elevator began to ascend. He stood a little straighter as the elevator whirred passed the tenth floor.
“It skipped your floor”, he said.
“I know”, I said as it continued to ascend I took off my coat and let it fall to the floor, “I changed rooms. It’s going to the penthouse.”
He passed his keycard over the panel but it didn’t stop as the elevator swiftly ascended into the 20’s. I passed my card over the reader at the 39th floor and the private elevator jerked to a sudden stop and I toppled into Fierro, he caught me and set me up right just as the door to his floor opened.
“I believe this is your floor”, I said as the penthouse elevator doors hummed open. The doors would stay open for several minutes until I swiped my card again so I waited patiently.
“Clara—“
“I’m really tired and I honestly can’t wait to take this dress off—I…I mean because it’s really tight… I can barely breathe...I um...I’ll see you in the morning.” I let out a breath.
“I have a midday flight, I’ll be leaving after breakfast.”
he said which made me think he didn’t hear a word I said about taking off my dress.
“Oh, well… I don’t like to stop in the states and not see my sisters so…”
I just left it off there. Even though we lived in the same very large house in the same very small county, where occasionally very strange things happened; this was the game we maybe unintentionally played. Never settling. By the time I got back to Versailles he would be taking Rose to Florence for spring break, before his annual trip to the Ecuadorian Rose Summits, then I’d be helping Emile pack up his house in Surrey, then heading to a charity event in Houston, plus I had Ellie’s wedding in San Francisco. It was always better to never stand still.
Well, I stood still long enough for him to kiss me. His lips against mine felt familiar, it was mostly chaste I just let the tip of my tongue run against his lips which parted slightly in way that caused me to press by thighs together, I parted my lips a little more to deepen the kiss I felt his arms around me and I was the perfect height in these shoes to neve lose contact with his mouth. I fell back against the elevator wall and pulled him closer to me when the elevator chimed softly to signal it would be automatically closing. He stepped back and started to say something but didn’t. The elevator chimed again and he stepped out just as the doors slid forcefully shut.
“Fuck”, I said to the empty space.
+4+
My night could now go one of two ways, I could go up to the
gorgeous penthouse I’d reserved and huddle under the covers with the little
friend I kept hidden in my toiletry bag, watch Netflix and order room service.
Or I could not.
The elevator opened to an expansive open suite with a full gourmet kitchen, floor-to-ceiling windows, a lounge, full patio and bedroom with gigantic bed and spa-like bathroom. I kicked off the tortuous heels I would never wear again and padded into the kitchen. Step one was finishing off the boxed wine, maybe take in the view and try not to brood.
I started looking for wine glasses when I heard a noise out on the balcony. I looked up but didn’t see anything. I found the flimsy stemless wine glasses and heard a knock at the balcony door. Now I saw a tall figure in the shadows.
It was her.
I hurried over and opened the balcony door, Sera took off the wool cap she was wearing and ran her fingers through her tousled cropped hair, her eyes carefully taking in the suite.
“You were on my balcony this whole time?”
“I wasn’t on the balcony”, she said.
What then? Had she been on the roof? She shrugged of her suit jacket and I noticed she’d carefully rolled the sleeves of her starched white shirt up.
She handed me back the business card that I’d given back to her on the sidewalk. On the flip-side I’d hurriedly scrolled the words Penthouse, W Hotel.
“Um, where is your husband?” I asked not sure how these things worked. Was this an affair? Or more like a rendezvous?
“You aren’t his type. It’s just…you are him.”
“Huh?”
“Sexy, bubbly, bright, smart witty, sexually frustrated raven-haired idealist? Paris—despite what he says in the mirror every morning—doesn’t want to fuck a female version of himself.”
“Oh”, I said not knowing if I should be insulted or flattered.
“Okay. Also are you sure you’re not a serial killer.”
“Funny thing for a dead girl to worry about.” she said casually walking around the suite.
“What?” I dropped the wine glass I was holding and before it could crash onto the floor Sera caught it.
“I’m older than I look”, she said loosening her tie and very slowly pulling it off. She slipped the vest off and waited for me to say something.
“Are you fucking with me?” I asked quietly because being a dead woman walking was not something I talked about.
“Not yet”, she says her eyes playfully meeting mine, “Just trust me you aren’t the most unusual thing in this city or this room.”
“Am I always going to be like this?”
“We can talk about that later”, she said closing the space between us and tilting my chin up, “I want you to tell me why you took your panties off—or that mess of lace and strings that passes for underwear—in the stall.”
I could feel myself heating up in a not so flattering way. The blush was a little embarrassing for a woman who’d been on this Earth for thirty three years.
“Why are you crying”, she asks knowingly. I wasn’t crying but I could tell I was close.
“I’m just—I”
“Come on Clara, use your words”
Fuck. The way she said my name.
“It’s embarrassing.”
“Was it because they were soaking wet”, she said, “At least that was what I noticed. That must have been uncomfortable. What turned you on that much? Just sitting it that very fancy Porsche knowing your not-boss agreed to be intimate with you?”
“Um…it’s an Aston Martin.” I corrected.
“I bet that’s the car your daddy drove too”, She said and I suddenly felt personally attacked.
I stayed quiet. I wanted to be a good and respectful friend and not betray the discretion and privacy he held so dear.
“Are you that sexually frustrated?” she asks tilting her head slightly, after some consideration she puts her hands are on my hips, her eyes are on this pulsing spot above my neck. I shake my hair back and give her a small nod to let her know I want her to continue. Her hands smooths down my backside and underneath the tight dress, I feel one finger graze the parts of me that went ignored most of the year. Hell, most of my life.
“Damn”, she says into my ear, “You have a huge clit, I bet even straight boys can find it. It doesn’t take much to get you going does it? They must fucking love that. Or they think you’re a slut.
I was trying to stay in the moment while ignoring the irrational guilt and shame I usually felt the few times I’d been intimate, I’d always hated how easily aroused I was. It made me seem desperate.
“You know”, she says moving her hands back above my dress and whispering into my ear, “You really shouldn’t be ashamed over how much the thought of that handsome man fucking you turns you on. How much blood he makes flow below your waist. How that cultured voices demanding things make your big sensitive clit swell three times its size …and those cold blue eyes? I bet they make you involuntary contract, make you want something hard and warm inside you.…also just between me, you and everyone in that restaurant it was really obvious in this dress that your pussy was dripping on to your thighs. So if you were wondering he knew exactly what a hot, desperate, wet mess you were. One more annoying problem on his list to take care…having to put a hand up your skirt so you can fucking think straight again--“
I started to feel a small flutter that increased into a dizzy uncontrollable pleasurable, sensation it hit me harder than I expected and my legs just gave out. Sera put her arms around me and held me until I had my bearing.
“Seriously”, she laughs setting me up, “I wasn’t even touching you. I mean uptight serious men are very sexy, but do you have some sort of albinism fetish?”
“No”, I said quickly not wanting to make this about him. I didn’t think he’d appreciate being talked about that way.
“A really big cock then”
“What is wrong with you?” I snapped but she just laughed.
“First man to give you an orgasm?”
“What is your problem?”
“Only man to give you an orgasm”, she reworded, “They write books on it and he seems very well read.”
“Stop it.”
“Was your baby one of those lab babies?” Sera asked circling me.
“No”, I said still slightly recovering and not wanting to talk about being a mom.
“So what, were you just two busy professionals with some contract to start a family?”
“No”, I said slightly annoyed at her clearly rom-com inspired theories.
“You’re wealthy, right?” she said unrolling her sleeves and unbuttoning her shirt, “What did you pay one of your daddy’s employee’s you had a crush on to take your virginity.”
I wanted to laugh over the absurdity of that but I hated that she was prying.
“We were neighbors”, I said but I could barely make the words come out, “…and just got carried away once.”
“Hmm”, she said, “I’m guessing you must have come instantly, then you know…oops.”
I couldn’t even think about that. Although the small generous part of me was glad Rose---despite being the most reasonable, logical and pragmatic child I knew—for some reason, according to Emile, didn’t realize she had been a mistake.
“When’s the last time a man fucked you”, she asked in a low voice.
“…three years ago.” I only answered because I felt this might be relevant.
“Guilt sex?”
I sat down on the closest chair I could find, deciding just because she asked didn’t mean I had to answer.
“What about you?” I asked trying to shake of the warm tremors still running through me
“What about me.”, she challenged
“Why am I getting all the questions? I mean….what about you? How old are you?”
She shrugged, “Thirty-one?”
“What do you do for a living”, I picked up the business card that had SGI Security written in shiny letters, ”Is this like a hedge fund.”
She laughed and stepped out of her pants revealing pair of form fitting black boxer briefs, her shirt was next leaving her in a black slim fitting sports-bra, the tight exposed muscles were slightly intimidating.
“Mercenary corporation”, she said.
“Okay”, I said. I was well read, “you build infrastructure on behalf of the U.S Military?’
“Oh, no. I’m an assassin.”
“What?”
“Hitman. I kill people for money. Angel of Death and all.”
She takes my hand and leads me into the bedroom, she had to be joking again. I take a close look at her back and noticed the strange scars alongside a huge and intricate arrow tattoo.
“Um, isn’t that illegal.”
“I mean that’s not really my problem”, she said causally, “You like my tattoo”
I could tell she was changing the subject.
“Um…”
“Do you have one?” she asks.
“Yes, I-”
“Wait…don’t tell me”, she says with a genuine smile I feel has won over tons of people, “…I’ll find it.”
We kissed for the first time, it was light and her lips were a very full naturally plushy pink, and I couldn’t tell if they were real. She unzipped the back of my dress and my body sighed in relief, the red welts from the tight fabric weren’t flattering but they’d smooth out.
Once the dress was on the floor I was left in the dark green (Mr. Venture Capitalist loved green—color of money) lingerie I had on underneath. It was a silky half-slip made of soft wrinkle-free silk blend with a matching camisole I’d had to sew a bra into.
“Look at you”, she said running her hands along the fabric and over my hips,” You know Gorgeous girls with curves drive me fucking wild.”
She kissed me again and it felt more like a challenge, it was rough, warm and wet then ended way too abruptly. She got on her knees and kissed my ankle and calves, skimming up and down my leg. She lifted the slip a little and I felt her tongue circling me intimately, it had been well over a decade since my ex-fiancé Peter had touched me like that, again thing escalated very quickly but this time I somehow remained standing. She kissed her way up my hips and waist still covered by the forgiving fabric, she stood up and kissed my mouth again and pulled the camisole over my head, the kiss deepened and suddenly I couldn’t get enough of her. She pulled away to catch her breath and pushed me roughly back onto the bed.
“Oh”, she said her eyes slowing making a path from my super permanent C-section scar to my eyes. She hovered over me and ran her teeth along the underside of my breast, licking at the ink.
“Tri-epsilon”, she said squinting at the tiny tattoo under the curve of my breast, “It’s a miracle you held onto your virginity so long.”
I ignored the quip because I hadn’t told her when I lost my virginity. She joined me on the bed and we kissed again, her skin was slightly chilled but warmed at the friction. She pulled away and ran her fingers through my long styled hair with curls the tumbled several inches down my back.
“I used to have hair like this”, she said but I really wanted her to shut up and kiss me again. I found myself being pulled into her lap, my legs straddling her, there as an intensity in her eyes and I felt my self-moving a little against her, I hadn’t even realized the moans I was hearing where coming from me.
“You are so fucking gorgeous”, she said again, “Pretty little rich girl with giant eyes and big tits. God, men must love you.”
“Please don’t objectify me.”
“Please stop humping my leg.”
Why was I so into someone who kind of infuriated me? She seemed to move between giving me what I wanted and insulting me, her hands had moved to my hips shadowing my involuntary movement and gripping me hard until I felt a powerful release
There was a terse silence and mind-numbing stillness that followed. I was still straddling her and she seemed…amused.
“Um, look”, I said, “This is new for me, and I’m just trying to fill this part of me that goes ignored most of the year, and I’m just so ready for something new but I’m also you know—“
“I get it you’re straight”, she said then tiled my chin so I was looking her in the eyes, “You have to promise you won’t fall in love with me.”
“What?”
“I’m joking”, she said her laugh was low and unbelievably sexy, “My husband taught me to be sarcastic.”
“You know” I said feeling comfortable enough to put my arms around her neck, and peering into her eyes, “You and…um Fierro. You two are actually a lot alike.”
“I doubt it”, she said letting her hand slid down and pushing two fingers deep inside of me in a way that was exactly what I missing and a lot more satisfying than the awkward handsy seven minutes in heaven I’d agreed to at a college party in Italy.
“You haven’t let me touch you. You are very guarded.” I explained.
“Don’t psychoanalyze me with your fancy bachelor’s degree”, she said.
“I have a PhD-“, at the moment she curled her fingers and pressed against a spot that I knew would leave me incoherent and hers for at least the next eight minutes.
I try and let the next hour pass slowly, when she does let me touch her it’s a little thrilling having some idea of what she is feeling. Apart from the scar there isn’t one imperfection or wayward hair on her body and it’s extremely annoying. She is all hard and broad lines that feel unreal to the touch.
I finished off the box wine and ordered enough drinks that we were both fairly buzzed, she refused to let me open the door for room service until I had an orgasm while pressed up against the elevator doors. I’d had to calmly tip the server and collect the drinks knowing they had heard everything.
Around 2am I added another empty glass to the nightstand, Sera was half-heartedly on top of me, I was trying to not make my prolong frustration obvious. I tried to school my features like she did only slightly enjoying the feel of her pressed against me.
“See”, she said giving up, “Scissoring is not a real thing. Just something difficult and boring from the imagination of straight men.
“I don’t even remember how we got here.”
“It was after you blacked out and came all over the kitchen counter””
“Oh, God.” I said covering my face
“What is your problem?” she says rolling her eyes, “it’s not even dirty talk.”
She reached for her jacket and pulls out a cigarette, she uses a match to light it and blows smoke in my face.
“I was just raised to be a good catholic girl, and I live in a very …reserved household. I’m just not used to talking about things like that…like this. I’m trying to change that.”
“That’s why you wanted to bang that sugar daddy venture capitalist.”
“Mr. Sexy Venture Capitalist”, I said sharing my nickname for him, “He thinks it’s …cute that I’m inexperienced. I think he’d be a good boyfriend, I want us to be exclusive before we’re intimate. Is that weird?”
“Don’t ask me. Monogamy is border-line psychotic to me.”
“I just feels so guilty”, I admitted “I have so much already but I just…want”
“Want what?” She said showing a bit of curiosity and putting out the cigarette.
“...Him”, I said not having to explain, “He’s smart, kind and romantic in a way people aren’t any more but that’s just not enough for me why can’t that be enough?”
“Look”, she said, “I hate taking on the older woman giving advice role but—
“I think I’m older than you.” I interrupted.
“Sure”, she said unmoved, “Look, you clearly have the body and sex drive of a woman who needs to be fucked
“I—“
“I think you should marry your hot co-parent not-boss neighbor —“”
“What…did Emile put you up to this?”
“Who? No. Look, you are attracted to him, he is seriously courting you plus you have a cute little family… So Here’s is what we are going to do, we are going fuck every way imaginable then you can crawl back into his arms and by that time you will finally remember your name and you’ll be a shit-ton more relaxed. I mean you’re going to lose your voice, but you can blame that on the weather. And whenever you get those totally normal uncontrollable urges…just put that dress back on, sit in a bar and you won’t go home alone.”
“I just can’t imagine sleeping with someone I’m not falling for… no offense. It'’s not just…just”
“The sex?” she said, “Seriously just say ‘sex’ ”
I ignored her.
“It’s not just being physical. I want someone I’m not afraid to love and commit myself to. The way you and your husband are…I want something like that.”
“God, you are so fucked up.”, she said, “look I sort of believe in soulmates now, and you know what Clara DeLune I think yours is still out there. A sweet rich hot guy who will fuck you senseless”
“He died”, I said, “I had a soulmate and he died. Fierro had a soulmate too and she left him so we’re both just standing in their shadows trying to see the light. So…you’re right behind the pretty clothes, mansion and money I’m fucked up.”
“I’m”, she started and seemed to think twice, “I’ve been through some shit”
“Thank you for sharing”, I said sarcastically, why did I always opened myself up like an idiot ?
“I’ve been through shit”, she starts again, “The kind of shit that should make me hate sex the kind of shit where—you guessed it—makes me want to always have control.”
“Oh”, I said, “Oh I—“
“That’s enough sharing”, she said picking her tie up, “Why don’t we work on making you lose your voice.”
I started to feel exhausted after 4am, we’d gone from little buzzed to drunk. I was starting to get used to her laugh and burst of dark humor. By the time she fell asleep (or at least closed her eyes) my body tingled like after a strenuous work out. I watched her sleep and studied the strange strange scars on her back. I couldn’t help but to wonder what could be stranger than a pretty little dead girl walking.
+5+
I felt every moment of last night when I woke up, it wasn’t just the intensity of it all but the ways my body had been moved and coaxed, along with the number of times of intense pleasure had prevailed. The bed was empty because of course it was.
I started to get up when Sera walked casually out of the bathroom in her black pants from yesterday and white shirt, it was loosely tucked in, her short hair was in loose freshly curled waves and —she was also wearing makeup…my makeup.
My skin was a natural olive while I took it hers was a warmer a tan, the foundation color was a little off but she’d highlighted her high cheek bones, warmed her skin with bronzer and made her eyes stand out with shadow, liner and mascara. And to finish it off she looked me right in the eyes and put on the berry berry lipstick I’d smeared when we first met. She tossed it to me and it smacked against my cleavage.
“Sorry, they got in the way”, she said, ““Keep my business card if you’re ever back in town.”
“I will”, I said still sort of breathless
I followed her out to the living room, feeling like I should
at least see her out.
“I can call you a cab.”
“I have a ride.”
The penthouse elevator doors chimed open and I jumped when I saw her husband was standing there with a congenial smile. He was dressed in a tight black shirt and matching pants while holding a pair of gold Louboutin’s, a Chanel cross body purse and a gun with an ankle holster. He got on his knees and carefully affixed the holster to her ankle, before helping her into the heels.
“And let me know if you end up getting married.” she said, “I’ll send you a gift…a nice vibrator or something.”
“Or something”, I said gently putting back up the walls around the parts of me I’d have to ignore for a while. She slipped on a pearl necklace from inside the purse and slid on several gold rings.
Paris held out a rose to me and I awkwardly took it, “Thank you?”
“It was sitting in the elevator.” he said shrugging.
“Oh….oh”, I said clutching the rose tighter, there was even a note attached to it.
“Bye, Clara”, Sera said as Paris pulled her into the
elevator and were practically devouring each other.
“Wait”, I said.
They both turned to me at the same time.
“Um, Sera what you said about me being a dead woman walking. Am I always going to be like this?”
“Of course you will”, Paris said pulling Sera closer to him as if he thought I could take her away, “Until you pull a Walking Dead on yourself.”
“What?”
“At some point you have to go back to the moment you came back…and make sure you stay dead. Headshot I think. I mean that should work.”
“What? How? That’s impossible that was years ago… besides I can’t kill myself…”
“Call me”, Sera suggested, “I’ll probably be around.”
Paris swiped a key card and the elevator closed leaving me to ponder that. I looked at the note attached to the rose.
Breakfast 7:30 am
Then I looked at the time on my phone, it was 7:15.
“Shit”
+++
I watched the waiter fill my cup to the brim before indicating she could stop. I wasn’t hungover but I needed as much caffeine as I could get.
So far Fierro had ordered a cappuccino but he’d stirred it, probably to break the silence, so it was coffee with extra cream the same thing he always drank. He was wearing a pinstripe button up and navy pants that was his travel attire. I sat up straight at breakfast, I smiled, and wore a modest but smart sweater dress with an oversized scarf I’d attached Rose’s brooch to.
He’d been reading the paper when I showed up late, so I hadn’t wanted to interrupt. In any other occasion I’d be reading too but my phone was charging in my room.’
It was the middle of the week and the dining room was empty. Most travelers had opted for the buffet.
“Would you like a section?” he offered.
“No”, I said quietly…a little hoarsely. I took a sip of the warm coffee to soothe my throat. He seemed to realize the polite thing to do was to have a conversation with me. I prepared myself for whatever safe topic he’d choose.
“Have you—“
“Why don’t we have sex”, I said slightly looking around to make sure no one was within earshot. I made myself look into his eyes when I asked and I saw the flash of anger and disappointment.
“Clara I don’t think that’s an appropriate question”, he said casting his eyes away from me. Keeping a tight hold on his disapproving anger.
“I mean I know why you don’t…I understand that . . . it’s just”, I primed myself for this, “You and Lucie…so I just wanted to know. . .”
“Lucie and I wanted to have a family”, he said wistfully.
“…and afterwards”, I said because that was not a good excuse for everything that followed in their second chance romance.
He folded the paper, fully prepared to leave.
“I didn’t want to lose her”, he said, “I wanted to make my marriage work. She never…. I did a lot of things I wasn’t proud of.”
“And you’re okay with losing me?”
I asked because it wasn’t the main reason but more of a footnote to why we never made it to the altar. There was a tense silence that followed as the waiter refilled my coffee and bought over another cappuccino. When he left I made myself look Fierro in the eyes for an answer.
“I was never afraid of losing you, Clara. I thought you understood…I thought you were more accepting.”
I felt a reasonable amount of guilt. He thought so highly of me. I started to remember how over the years he’d started trusting me to keep his secrets slowly revealing himself to me. I had no right to ask him to explain himself to me. As he started to reopen his paper I realized this very small window closing and we’d probably never talk about this again. I wanted to fiercely apologize. To explain, like I was always doing, that I wasn’t like Lucie and I loved him for who he was.
“I’m sorry”, I said quickly, “I didn’t mean—“
“It’s alright Clara. Please don’t cry.”
“Why doesn’t everyone always think I’m going to cry?”
I dabbed the corner of my eye with a napkin and I finished my second cup of coffee, slowing slipping comfortably back into the version of Clara DeLune I knew best. The happy, indulgent, sweet foil to his air of serious melancholy. The slightly neurotic optimistic woman just trying to get Rose out of her head and Fierro out of journals and greenhouse. Doing whatever it takes to keep myself sane and distracted. Except maybe this version of Clara DeLune will take a few nights for herself to be a little less lonely. Because this Clara DeLune was always going to secretly be in love with her boss.
“What time doe your flight leave?” I asked trying to set things back on a normal course.
“In a few hours”, he said switching newspaper sections. I settled for the international section.
“Well, Cartier opens at 9am and I think you still owe me a Valentine’s Day gift I can show off to my sisters.”
“Is that so?” he asked seriously. Not a hint of flirtation.
This time I left a bill on the table and headed for the door. For a minute I was afraid he wasn't going to follow me, but he did. I shrugged on my coat and slowed down enough for him to catch up to me. Once we were at the same pace I took his hand as we headed down the crowded city sidewalks.
"I was thinking", I said, "...I might want a diamond ring."
“Clara”, he warned stopping at the corner.
“What?", I said pulling him along, "It’s just my birthstone.”
+++
This story features a Post-series Fierro and Clara, but it features
an amalgamation of both versions of Paris and Sera. Because in the original Lux
Aeterna verse Sera is banned from entering the city and is not married to
Paris. In the New Aeterna (that’s not confusing at all) verse Sera has the
tattoo, and is married to Paris but of course in New Aetenra-verse they
wouldn’t be in New York….so.
You : No one cares, Lile.
With that said I will say that I dropped the ball majorly on Sera’s character in Lux Aeterna, when I first wrote her she was a gender fluid character (which is mostly hinted at). In Bellum I originally wanted her to identify more as male, but I just didn’t have the understanding of how to write her and I wish I could fix it.
I had the chance to do that in the New Aeterna-verse but once I wrote a sequel ( that no one asked for) I went real heteronormative because her status was suddenly so wrapped up in Paris.
I also really wanted to write a thing where I could address another missed mark which was Fierro being asexual. I feel like I will address this again in the Emile POV story I’m writing. Like I said I could never figure out why I could never naturally write Fierro sexualizing Clara or in a happy sexual relationship and I think a commenter pointed this out and a light bulb went on. As a character he would never be comfortable openly talking about his orientation and how he feels it may have partially been responsible for the end of his marriage. Clara has sort of put it together since they have lived together.
Feminist!Muse : But LiLe even though this ws F/F this was ultimately about their relationship to the cis-male characters. Boo !
LiLe : I Know but these established relationships are s so central to all of my serials that I couldn’t unwrite that. ):
Feminist!Muse : What’s with the scissoring dis ?
LiLe : IDK, it seems highly debated in the lesbian community and Sera likes to be on the pessimistic side.
FAQs (and or things/potholes I want to address)
How does Fierro find a parking spot infront of the restaurant?
How did Fierro leave that rose in the elevator without a key card ? Does he know how Clara spent her evening?
*shrugs*
How did Paris get a
key card ?
Ummm….
Is Clara older than Sera ?
Well, Clara is 22 when she has Rose after House o Fierro. Rose is 12 so Clara is approaching 34 and Fierro is 37. (Side note : I can’t remember why I needed Rose to be 12 at the end of the series, but I did) and in Lux Aeterna Sera is 1000 years old but her human age is given as 31…so….yes and no ?
Why is Sera so mean to Clara ?
I wrote a post I believe I called Leaning In about how one of the first things we learn about Seraphina in Lux Aeterna is that she is mean. She is the stereotypical bully who is mean because she is self-conscious and jealous. She has learned to be a better person but her default is to be mean so…