Artful Attractions (22 page)

“Why is everything okay?” he sounds concerned. That’s so much better than angry.

“Yes, I bit off a larger project than I anticipated helping Amy’s brother set up his apartment in Manhattan and I’m going to be exhausted if I plan on getting this completed within a week or two at most. I can’t work four days a week and this. I think I’ll keel over,” I chuckle and cross my fingers. Please be okay with this. Please be okay with this.

“Oh, you mean the man that you’ve in love with. You’ve actually gone along and decided to follow through with helping.”

I frown angrily.

“Who the fuck told you I was in love with him?” I snap. There’s only one person on the planet who’d give up the goods and that’s Becka. And now she’s in the damn dog house.

“Your best friend. She told me you are skating on some thin ice with him. She’s worried about you falling too far and drowning in the deep end without a life jacket. If you know what I mean.”

This isn’t fair! I haven’t given Brad one fucking reason to feel how I do about him. He has no idea about my affections. So why does it matter how far my heart dives into the unknown. It’s bound to drown in the abyss and that’s what I want. If I love him and let my heart be shattered it can’t be mended and I won’t have this to worry about again. It makes complete sense to me. Plus he’s my good friend’s brother and I’m doing my duty to my adopted family by helping him out. Overall I don’t see how this is a losing cause. Other than I will wallow in heartache for some time. That’s better than this happening with somebody else. Getting it out of the way just seems smart. I can’t fix how I feel about him. So I’ve been rolling with the punches. It’s all I can do.

“Listen Brian. If you don’t want me to take some time off, then fine. Don’t. Just say it. But I don’t need nor want a lecture or concern about my internal love struggle. I know the rules and I’ve not told him or shown him how I feel in any way shape or form. I’m already drowning so allowing myself to fall harder isn’t going to make a damn bit of difference. Pain is pain no matter how you look at it,” I comment with a lingering hint of resentment. I don’t see how any of them fuckers come off. It’s my life. And Becka is on my shit list now.

He exhales loudly into the phone. “Fine….But… If you need or want me to be a friend I will be. I’m not just your boss Alexis. I’d like to think after four years you’d think of me as more than some guy who books your clients. If you love him your right that’s your business and I understand. It’s hard when it happens. But like I said if you need me. I’m here. And yes you can have some time off. But I’m not going to be surprised if Joseph or John aren’t disappointed or begging to see you. They won’t settle for anyone else.”

“I’ll deal with Joseph. And John can handle a damn week without being paddled and fucked in the ass. I beat him so bad I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t sit down for a few days. So that’ll tide him over. Thanks Brian, I appreciate the friendship offer. It’s sweet really. But the more I let this go and try to ignore it the better I am. Talking about it just makes me think about it more. The pain is bad enough.”

“I understand, well call me this week and let me know when you want to come back,” he says sweetly and following a round of small talk we hang up and I feel a weight lifted off my shoulders. I can get art done, the apartment and maybe just maybe the dreams will cease to exist and I’ll sleep good without waking up panting and begging to be filled.

Scrolling through my texts, I pull up Becka’s number

Me to Becka: I’m so disappointed in you telling Brian about my Brad feelings. That’s not your place. I’m not going to be home the next week. Hope you can keep the apartment cleaned on your own.

If Becka’s going to run her mouth about Brad with Brian. God only knows what she’s said to Andrew or others about it. I’m not going home to find out. I need the distance anyhow and I’m not a huge fan of taking the subway into Brad’s daily so sleeping here it is. It’ll be like I live in the Upper East Side with all the other richy rich couples. Fat chance I’d ever fit in here.

Becka- Shit, I’m sorry. He asked how your vacation to the B&B went and I sort of let it slip. Why aren’t you coming home? Is it because of me?

Me- Sort of you. Yes. I’m not happy about you telling Brian. He’s our boss, Becka, not our friend. And I guess I’ve gotten myself into a bigger mess with Brad’s apartment than I anticipated. So I’ll be staying here while he’s out of town. It’s not a big deal. I’ll drop by once this week to pick up clothes and what not.

Becka- Okay, but I’m still really sorry. Please don’t stay mad at me.

I ignore her and leave her to simmer in her guilt. She deserves it for airing my dirty laundry to god knows who. I scroll down and find Brad’s number.

Me to Brad- Hey, so much for three gifts that were completely unnecessary and now I’ve got an iPod with all my favorite tunes. Thanks.

In truth I want to scold him for the gift. But he’s right, I am doing a lot for him. Interior decorators would charge a fortune to spruce up a blank canvas like his place. And I’m doing it pro-bono.

Brad- Phew! I thought I might get in trouble for that one. You like the music really? Or are you being nice?

Me- I love the music. I’m a huge fan of almost all the bands. We have the same taste in music. And I’m taking your advice and staying in your apartment.

Brad- Hope you like it. I’m thrilled to see what it looks like when I get home. That’s awesome we like the same tunes. Makes it easier, I suppose.

Easier than what? I’m confused.

Me- Yep, the painter is coming Monday. Don’t want to keep you. Just wanted to say thanks and I’m going to get back to work.

Brad- Okay. You’d never keep me. But if you’ve got to get back to work I understand. Night.

Hopping off the couch I get back to work and spend the rest of the evening unpacking the boxes on the cart. Listening to music. It’s not hard work it’s just tedious as hell and my fingers are killing me from ripping this paper or that tape. So much for a soft touch before you know it I’ll have callouses and fit in with the men down at the auto repair shop.

“Good morning sunshine,” someone says, pushing my side. “Good morning.”

I turn over stretching my arms high hitting my knuckles on the headboard. Peeling my eyes open my heart jumps into my throat and I spill up out of bed pulling the sheet with me. Fuck! My heart is pounding so hard I can’t breathe. I bend over placing both of my hands on my knees panting. Jesus Christ, that was one hell of a wakeup call. I turn my head slightly to peer at the new alarm clock on the side table and it’s eight in the morning.

Standing up I keep a hold of my sheets.

“How are you this fine morning?” Brad asks cheery, with a giant ear-to-ear smile sitting on his new bed. Holy shit! What is he doing home? He’s only been gone a week.  I’m not done yet. Damn-it, damn-it, damn-it.

“Wha…what are you doing home?” I stammer, catching my breath.

“I wanted to see the place and I got in early this morning.”

He’s way too chipper for spending however long in an airplane this morning. It’s too early. And I worked, worked last night. For the first night since I got to his apartment. After four arguments with Joseph and one with Brian I broke down and made myself available for room service dinner and a four hour fuck fest in a hotel not far from Brad’s. I refused to stay the night with Joseph, I haven’t had the time. Brad left last Thursday and it’s the following Friday. Eight days I’ve had to complete this project and I’m not done. If I wouldn’t have spent four hours with Joseph last night sucking him off twice off in my own little world of paint colors, rugs and other assorted decorated items and then fucking him another two times. I would have been here doing my damn job. Shame on me! My brain has been so out of it and zoned in on the task at hand that I haven’t had time to do much else. That even means orgasming with Joseph. I faked it like a pro.

My dreams are the only thing keeping me horny and every morning after a nightly sexcapade with Brad in my dreams, I masturbate like my life depends on it and get on with my day of readying his apartment for when he returns. Which according to him and the last time we spoke which was less than forty-eight damn hours ago he wasn’t going to be back until Monday. Guess those plans were changed. Leaving the rest of the apartment unfinished to my standards. Sure the kitchen has been painted a creamy white and I’ve gotten all the kitchen appliances including stocking his cupboards with essentials like top of the line spices, and everything else including extra virgin olive oil, flour and sugar. I’ve gotten it all covered and stored properly. But I’ve not wiped it all down to make is shine. And I’ve spent two days on and off trying to find this rare and top of the line wok that I’ve heard everyone on the restaurant blogs raving about. Just last night before I left for Joseph’s I was able to order the last one online.

I walk into the bathroom, leaving him to hang out in his new bedroom. I use the facilities wash my face and comb through my disastrous bed hair. I haven’t showered since last night and I fell a sleep with a wet head. I look like hell.

Coming out of the bathroom I step into the closet opposite of Brad’s shutting the door behind me. I drop the sheet and tug on my white flowing dress we bought together while visiting his family. I picked it up from home when I dropped by to pick up some more clothes and a few other essentials.

“So you decided to come home when the place wasn’t finished?” I tease, exiting the closet now in clothes. No panties but what does that really matter?

“I wanted to surprise you,” he smiles, making my heart melt. I’ve missed that beautiful chiseled face and thick body and most of all, I’ve missed his sexy deep bass voice. It feels like years since I’ve heard him talk and that voice makes my inside melt into a puddle and my pussy ignites into a hot steamy fire ball ready to explode any second. That and the fact that he just woke me from a nice love making session dream. Staring him, me and his new black canopy bed. Both of those rather tantalizing things have made my core scream in agony to be sated. This sucks.

“I’m surprised,” I smile back trying to be nice and sweet. Even though the pounding between my legs is intense and my heart is reaching out to touch him and pull him into my arms. Those beautiful lips of his and those bright blue eyes. How could he still be single? Brad’s perfect. And the longer I know him the more I’m convinced.

“Good. So… my designer I need a tour of my beautiful apartment.”

My brows furrow in confusion. “You haven’t examined it yet?”

He shakes his head with a smirk. “Nope, I want the tour from the one who’s taken up residency in my bed.” He winks.

Oh my god. I think I just came a little.

I walk towards the door and wave him along.

“Welcome to the humble abode of Bradly Saunders,” I giggle and head toward the front door to start the tour. He chuckles at me but tows behind me in a pair of jeans and white collared shirt rolled up his arms. Oh so sexy! I might drool.

Stepping into the living room I Vanna White the space. “This is the beautiful living room as you will notice there is a large couch for cuddling or entertaining.” I rub my hand along the back. “That is for your viewing pleasure it also comes with 3D glasses and it has built in wifi.” I point delicately to the TV.

“This couch is amazing.” He drops down on it his arms resting across the tall back. He looks fabulous sitting on it. And I’d love nothing more than to cuddle with him. But instead I stand at the end my legs touching the new ottoman coffee table.

“I’m glad you like it.” I smile and caress the ottoman combo. “This is a coffee table, extra seating, or ottoman. Plus it has storage.” I lift the lid to reveal new red silky blankets and a black one to match the space. I slowly shut the lids and take a few steps back curling my toes in the new plush dark gray rug. It’s soft and would be great to lay on in front of the fireplace. Which is where is sits. I’ve got an eye for the romance.

“That’s a cool table,” he praises, watching me squish my toes into the rug. “I also love how you placed the beautiful canvases on either side of the fire place it really makes them stand out against the pale gray walls.”

Wow, he’s observant. I’m surprised he noticed the color change. Most men would have overlooked that minor detail.

“This way sir.” I wave him into the kitchen and he gets up from the couch still wearing a pair of black dress shoes. “This room has been outfitted with various amenities that I will allow you to discover,” I say taking a seat at the island.

He opens each cupboard making Ooo’s and Ah’s along the way. Lots of praiseful sounds inaudibly pass through his sexy lips. 

“You bought me these pans,” he screeches excitedly holding up one of the stainless skillets.

I chuckle. “Um… yes? Is that okay?”

“Hell yes! These are the best on the market! Holy shit!” he enthusiastically approves.

At this point I wouldn’t put it past him to jump up and down. Wait until he gets a load of the wine fridge. It’s stocked completely.

He turns around and pulls knives out of the block examining them.

“These are some fine knives,” he states getting a good close look at the blade and runs the belly of the tang over his arm hair shaving it off to check for sharpness. It makes me wince at the scary sight. I turn away.

“Holy shit! You didn’t,” he squeals dropping the sharp knife on the counter. I snap my head back to see it spinning crazily and that is enough to make my stomach tie up in knots. That’s not safe.

He ducks down and I know instantly he’s checking out the wine. “How in the heck did you get all these?”

“I found a website that rated them and directed me to all the sites that sold them. And one by one I either found a distributer in the city or they came by express mail. I ordered six at a time for the ones by mail so the extra bottles are in the pantry. But overall I think I got twelve to fifteen different kinds for you to try,” I explain evenly.

“This is awesome.” He pulls an amber colored bottled one out and sits it on the counter and goes searching for an opener. I bought a state of the art one. None of those metal doohickeys that take twenty years and part of the time drops cork into the wine by the time you’re finished.

“First drawer from the right,” I direct so this doesn’t take forever. He’ll learn eventually. He puts the electric wine opener to the top and lets it do its job. And voila it’s uncorked and there’s nothing floating.

“This is fancy,” he says tucking it back into its rightful place.

“You know you can rearrange anything in here. It’s your place. If you’d like the wine opener closer to the wine you can move it,” I smile.

“Yes, I know that but I want to keep it exactly how you’ve arranged it. Not a thing out of place.” A warm smile flows from his mouth and touches me heart from across the island. I love him. God why does this have to be so hard? My body is aching to love him and kiss him. I’ve not even touched him since he’s gotten home. Not a hug, or a pat on the back. That’s what you get when you’re in the dreaded but necessary ‘friend zone.’ It sucks though. I’m not going to lie.

He shuffles through the cupboards and I let him this time. He finds the Mikasa wine glasses and sits them on the counter and pours us both a glass. “Here.” He offers the stem.

I accept it and stand taking steps in the opposite direction into the attached dining room. It’s not large so I opted for a clear thick glass top table that’s rectangular with six chairs. It looks fantastic in the space and the clear tempered glass keeps the room seem brighter and fuller of light. Since there are no windows. The only authentic light that migrates from the front windows in the living room. Which isn’t much.

“Here’s the dining area.” I sweep my hand toward the table. He nods appreciatively and I take him into the half bath off the dining room. It was boring and white, with a white sink and toilet. Too much white. So I paid Greg the painter to give it a nice mint green color. I added white linen hand towels with green trim and a floral picture above the toilet. It looks ten times better. And with the smile on his face he seems to agree. I shut the door and work my way to his room which is the first on the right.

“You’ve seen this but you wanted the walk through,” I comment, stepping inside. This is my most favorite spot in the entire apartment. I did a damn good job. I haven’t finished the art yet. No time. But other than that it’s fantastic with creamy white walls. Blue, black and cream duvet cover over a soft feather bed. Four pillows on the bed, two with blue shams to match the thick striped bedding and the sheets are high thread count done in black. I was going to go with cream but they would show stains and they are more feminine. Black just screams masculinity.

“I really love this,” he smiles, sitting down on the bed. Opposite to where I slept.

“I’m glad, I got a Posturpedic bed. It’s medium firmness.” I take a sip of my wine. It’s delicious; I selected a good brand. 

“Come sit.” He pats his big hand next to him.

That’s not a good idea.

“No, I’m fine right here.” I stand far from the bed. I peek out the big wall to wall windows that I have draped with sheers. It’s a spectacular view.

“C’mon, I don’t bite. I have some good news I want to share and I won’t until you sit.” He orders wiggling his brows at me. I bite my lip contemplating.

“Fine.” I slump my shoulders sauntering across the room in a pout. I hate to do this. The heat from his body is going to entice me and I’ll be lucky to leave and go back home without throwing myself helplessly at his mercy. Which of course he’d turn down and turn up his nose disgusted because after all I am an escort. Oh, well that’s what my dreams are for. Maybe there not so bad after all.

I plant myself on the edge furthest from him and he scoots closer so our legs are touching my body immediately responds and my pussy tingles. This isn’t good. I shouldn’t love this man. But I do. So much.

I swallow hard. “And?” I croak out. Smooth Alexis, real smooth! I’m an idiot.

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

He takes the last sip of his wine and sets it on his nightstand. His hand presses into the mattress right behind me and his forearm brushes my back. Oh, that feels nice. All the hairs on my body simultaneously stand on end.

“I took pictures with my phone of your art before I went down to Miami to lock up my apartment and make sure Manny the manager I hired to run a newer restaurant was settled in properly. I sent those photos to a bunch of my business friends that run other restaurants around the country and they were so impressed by your work that they would love to talk to you about doing some sketches for their restaurants or homes.”

My mouth drops open and tears sting my eyes. Now he gets even more perfect and I never thought that was even possible. My heart is thudding in my chest and I can’t breathe. I close my eyes and my mouth trying to calm myself.

He places a hand on my thigh, rubbing it sweetly with his thick, long and beautiful fingers. The electricity sparks and the butterflies start fluttering inside. I need a damn net to catch them. I hate feeling this helplessly in love. Damn it all to hell.

“That’s very kind,” I mutter, trying to break back into reality.

“Will you do it?” he asks, his tone hopeful.

“Of course. I love to draw. And if my art will be in other people’s homes. How could I not enjoy it? I’ve gotten two smaller pieces done this week for your new restaurant. What are you naming it, anyhow?” I ask trying to take my mind off the fact that his hand has stilled on my upper thigh and I can feel its heat searing into my soul that’s calling his name. Begging for him to love it.