Inventing Herself (2 page)

She didn’t look directly at him but said softly, ‘Why do you think that about me, Kev?’

He shrugged and pointed to Crab Rangoons. ‘Because you’ve seemed a little less than yourself lately. Right around the time you broke up with boyfriend number 20. What was his name?’

‘Woody.’

Kevin snorted. ‘Did he live up to his name?’

‘Not as much as you’d think.’

The night carried on to eating, more drinking, and a really bad B-movie that must have been shot on a budget of under a hundred bucks. But all in all a great night, Sophie thought as she walked next door in her stockinged feet. She unlocked her door and opened her arms to the furry behemoth that was Simon.

‘Did you miss me?’ she asked him. Despite all the wet kisses, she couldn’t help but feeling a little melancholy.

‘Right,’ she whispered into his black and white fur. ‘Yoga.’

Chapter Two

Two o’clock in the morning is a bitch. No one wants to be awake at two in the morning unless they’re leaving the bar with their friends. This was something Sophie felt certain of as she tossed and turned.

Simon was in the corner, snoring on his big
THE KING SLEEPS HERE
pillow after she had forced him off the bed twice. He was more than a cover hog; he was a mattress hog too.

Now she found herself staring at a stain of streetlight that splashed across her ceiling.

‘Wonderful.’

Nothing was comfortable and she was alternately hot and cold. She considered getting up and having a drink, but thought maybe the wine was what was keeping her up in the first place. Then she considered watching TV or reading, but six a.m. was rocketing toward her and she thought it might be a bad idea to be a true zombie come the sunrise.

She rolled to her belly, wiggling and stretching, trying to turn off her mind – still picking at this new, oddly uncomfortable assignment – and when a small zing of pleasure coursed through her from striking the right facedown pose, she sighed.

If you just get yourself off, you’ll sleep. Best way to calm down on earth, Sophie.

She slipped a finger into her panties and found her clit. An experimental press of her fingertip spread warm ribbons of pleasure through her pelvis. Her cunt went a little wet, her insides flexed agreeably. Sophie laughed softly. It had been way too long since she’d taken care of herself. She was a woman who subscribed to the idea that an orgasm a day kept the bad temper away, but for some reason lately she’d stopped giving herself pleasure when there was no one else around to help her out.

Her fingers slid along her silky folds and she tested her slick opening with one quick thrust. She pushed a second finger inside herself and groaned a little when she flexed her fingers and found her G-spot. Her clit thumped in time with her heart.

Now she just needed to set herself up mentally. She was too tired to get up and rummage around for a toy that might speed up the process. She had a few in her closet, one in her dresser, and one or two in her nightstand. But good old-fashioned finger work would have to do the trick tonight.

She ground herself against the palm of her hand as her fingers slid in and out of her wetness. Every nudge of her G-spot shot a rolling bolt of goodness through her pussy, up into her womb and her belly. She found herself biting the edge of the pillow with each thrust of her hips.

You’ve gone rabid, she thought, and almost laughed, but then the pleasure ratcheted up a notch and the laugh turned to a sigh.

She pictured him, whoever
him
was, putting his mouth to her pussy. Licking her. Sliding his tongue along the slick terrain of her pussy lips. Then driving a rigid tongue into her eager slit. He’d suck and lick, alternating, keeping her on edge the whole time. When the licking made her offer up a sigh and surrender, he’d switch to a great suctioning kiss that drew on her flesh and made her clit thrum with urgency.

Sophie sighed, seeing him in her mind’s eye, as her hips undulated and her fingers pressed and slid, his big forearms pinning her down to the bed. His shoulders and his chest. Narrow hips, flat belly, nice body but not –

‘Not a gym rat,’ she murmured, curling her fingers more insistently against that wonderful bundle of nerve endings deep inside.

The orgasm was a gathering storm that tightened, grew, got fatter and brighter with energy and bliss, and she held her breath, moving her fingers faster, pushing her body down onto the heel of her hand, pressing that hot, swollen knot of her clitoris. His mouth suckling her. His fingers entering her. At some point him driving up into her, holding her thighs, watching their union and –

Sophie came, the orgasm hitting her hard and clenching her cunt up tight around her moving fingers. She pushed her mouth to the pillow and let it all out. All the tension she’d stored up without realising she’d done it. All the need she’d been carrying around, oblivious of its weight on her. She cried out her release into the pillow and when her body stopped flickering and twitching with echoes of orgasm, she rolled to her back, sated and still tired.

It hadn’t been lost on her, though, that during the whole mental scenario, as this dream man went down on her and licked the orgasm right out of her willing body … he had no face. No matter how hard she’d tried, she couldn’t conjure up a face for Prince Charming.

She was all for fairy tale endings for girls who wanted them. She was all for the white knight on a horse if that was what a girl craved. She’d never thought of herself as that girl. She’d wanted all the things she now had, but it was becoming increasingly clear that she’d missed one small detail.

Not Prince Charming, that wasn’t her. Not someone to save her, she could save her own damn self, thank you. But … someone to share it all with. Someone who would be happy
with
her.

Maybe that’s what was at her centre. It wasn’t lost on Sophie as she drifted off that it scared her to death.

Run!

Sophie rushed down the sidewalk, dodging people who apparently had nowhere to be this morning. Thank God she only wore flats, and also thank God her new black leather boots seemed to be secretly structured like a tennis shoe, because she was flying. She darted up the steps into the building and rushed past the security guard, Herman.

‘Morning, Herman!’ she shouted, coming to a cold stop at the bank of elevators and hitting the button for the seventh floor.

She heard his deep chuckle. He was a humongous man with a thick handlebar moustache and sea green eyes. ‘Running late, Soph?’

She laughed. ‘What gave me away?’ The elevator dinged, parted, and waited for her entry. ‘Gotta go! But dig out the pictures of the new grandbaby for me. I want to see when I come back down!’

‘Will do,’ he boomed even as the doors hissed shut.

Her heart was thudding, her legs felt rubbery. It was too early to run and she hadn’t even had proper coffee yet. Sophie found the list that Temperance had given her and opened it with shaking fingers. Of all the things on there, yoga seemed the least intimidating. For some reason, writing letters to herself kind of weirded her out. So that would be where she started.

Inside the office of
There
, the bright lights and chatter seemed a bit overwhelming. Not enough sleep and that faceless man in her dirty fantasy were weighing on Sophie.

Brush it off. Get on with your day …

She slid into her chair, hoping to escape Temperance’s gaze from the big bank of office windows. Temperance sat up there at her desk like a bird of prey on its perch. Sophie typed “Yoga studios” into her search engine and added her zip code when prompted to do so.

A slew of names came up. So many of them she felt overwhelmed. It was stupid and childish, but she put her head down on her desk blotter and groaned.

‘Why are you moaning and why are you looking for yoga studios?’ Kate asked, plopping into Sophie’s visitor chair.

‘Assignment,’ Sophie sighed.

‘Your assignment is yoga?’

‘My assignment is finding my centre in the new year.’

‘Is that a –?’

‘Do not say sex joke!’ Sophie hissed but then giggled. Kate followed suit.

‘Oh-
kay
. Is it like a Zen thing?’

‘Pretty much. I have a list.’ She waved it.

‘Well, if you want a yoga studio just go to Oakmount Studios up on Bradford Avenue. The instructor – if you get Joel – is to-die-for. So hot it’ll melt your mat.’

‘Yeah? Do they take walk-ins?’

‘Yep.’ Kate checked her watch. ‘If you hurry you can make the ten o’clock class.’

‘I don’t have anything to wear!’ Sophie chewed her lower lip.

‘Sweetheart, I have a bag in my car with some clean leggings, a tank top, hell, a mat! Everything you need and not an excuse to be found.’

‘I didn’t know you were into yoga.’ Sophie frowned. Now she really had to do it.

Kate grinned. ‘I’m not really. I just like to mix up my exercise routine and I’m definitely into men like Joel.’ She waggled her eyebrows. ‘Good luck with it.’

‘What’s your assignment?’ Sophie asked.

‘
The Bad Girls’ Guide to Good Cooking
.’

‘Jealous,’ Sophie moaned.

‘Don’t be. I can fucking burn water.’

‘Now we move into downward dog.’ Joel’s rich caramel voice smoothed over Sophie.

If only she could feel gooey and bendy like caramel. Instead, she felt awkward and clumsy. She pushed back with the heels of her hands as she’d been instructed. Tried to “sink” into the stretch with the heels of her feet.

All she could think was what if I slip? What does my ass look like? And, of course, who farted?

Turned out that wasn’t so much of a myth. Someone had let one go and everyone was acting as if it was no big deal at all.

Which, technically, it wasn’t. It was just a fart, after all. Everyone had gas at some point in their lif –

‘You’re drifting,’ Joel said, his voice very close to her. So close it made Sophie go rigid. ‘Let me help you straighten your pose.’

He stepped up between her spread legs and settled his hands on her hips. Then he proceeded to move her a little here, a little there, until the stretch blazed up her calves and the backs of her hamstrings. It blazed somewhere else too, Sophie noticed as he lingered, tweaking her pose.

When he stepped back from between her legs, his hand stayed on her lower back for a beat before being removed. ‘Good,’ Joel said.

He was big and tall and obviously fit. A shock of dark – almost black – hair and grey eyes. His voice was as smoky and sensual as his body.

Sophie felt colour come to her face that had nothing to do with yoga or being inverted. The class lowered slowly to a plank pose and her muscles started to tremble. In her mind’s eye it was easy to put a face to it now. This man, down between her legs, his mouth on her. His fingers separating and skating over her nether lips. Finding her slick opening and plunging deep, curling to tease her G-spot until she gasped. Then taking her own juices, running up to find the needy swell of her clitoris. Circling and circling until plunging back into her cunt to stroke her most secret places again, his mouth sucking, his tongue nudging, licking, licking, licking until …

‘Now lower down into cobra pose,’ Joel said.

Sophie did, but as she did a noise burst out of her. Her body, on the verge actually coming, supplied the small blip and flutter deep inside of an almost orgasm. The sound was half sigh, half moan, and very, very sultry. Way too sultry for muscle stretching.

Joel chuckled softly. ‘Glad to know you’re enjoying class, Sophie. We’re glad to have you.’

She counted the heartbeats until class was over, she was so mortified. When Joel finally told them to stand and everyone gave what seemed to be the customary “Namaste” a woman in green leggings and a bright blue pullover whispered, ‘Don’t feel so bad. He has that effect on most of the newcomers. Once he touches someone … they’re toast.’

Sophie tried to smile and waited to self-combust.

She nearly set a record changing back into her work clothes, but when she came out Joel called out to her.

‘I was wondering –’ he said, sort of grinning at her.

Sophie caught the gaze of the green-legging woman. She was smiling, her look knowing.

‘Could I … call you? Take you out? Bring you wine and woo you with wild yoga tales?’ He smiled at her and the lust that smile inspired struck right down through the centre of her like a lightning bolt.

‘Um, yeah … sure. In fact –’ She broke off, thinking maybe she shouldn’t say what she was about to say. But fuck it. This whole “finding her centre” thing had taken her very close to thinking she was nuts. Might as well
act
nuts, right? Maybe Joel was that missing something. ‘How about you come to my place tonight. Bring that wine you mentioned and I can make a nice steak or – wait – do you eat meat?’

He nodded, eyes flashing with amusement. ‘I do. But thank you for asking.’

‘Good,’ she hurried on. Yes, this was it. This was a good thing. Maybe she was just in need of a date. Maybe she was just
horny
. ‘And maybe a salad and whatever. We can just … we can talk. Get to know one another.’

‘It’s a date,’ he said. He gave her his number so she could text her address.

‘Yes. It is a date,’ she said and hurried out of the studio. Kate was going to kill her!

Chapter Three

When she got back to the office, Kate was out of the office. Sophie sat and typed up some of her notes on yoga. She wasn’t going to say she wouldn’t do it any more, but beyond a date and some sweating, she hadn’t really gotten much out of it. Yoga itself had not touched something deep in her that would help her have a more realised life, a larger self-awareness.

Temperance IMed her.
Well how was it!?

Fine.

What’s next?

Dinner with the teacher.

Ooooh, cheeky. Got notes?

Yep.

I meant what’s next on the list?

Sophie made a show of looking at the list so her boss could see her from her office. She made a quick decision.

Letters to myself, I guess.

Good girl! Go find yourself.

Working from home for the rest of the day.

Sophie laughed softly. It was worth a shot.

Best place to find oneself. Keep me posted.

When she glanced up, Temperance was on the phone, head tossed back, laughing loud enough for Sophie to hear her down in the writer’s pool. She grabbed her bag and made a quick getaway. She could shop for food for tonight, ponder whether or not she’d sleep with Joel, and all the while ponder herself.

The assignment wasn’t so bad, after all.

Atrocious! That was the only way to describe this date, she thought.

‘What made you want to try yoga?’ Joel had his feet up on her table and had just finished a ten-minute monologue on how he had found yoga, how good he was at it, how he was an awesome teacher, and how yoga really taught a person to be humble.

‘An assignment,’ she said softly. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him primping again – flipping, arranging and touching his hair. He thought he was getting lucky and it was clear.

She’d thought he might earlier today too. However, since he’d walked into the house it had been “me-me-me” and it was getting on her nerves-nerves-nerves. He’d only been there for an hour, long enough for them to eat some food and pour out some wine, and she was already fantasising about when he would leave. Not a good sign.

‘An assignment for what?’ He actually leant forward and checked his hair in the glass of her entertainment centre, thinking she wasn’t looking.

Sophie swallowed hard, suppressing a semi-hysterical giggle. This was so bad it bordered on funny. ‘For
There
magazine. A fairly big women’s mag. Ever heard of it?’

‘No, can’t say as I have.’ He sipped his wine and turned to look at her.

Of course not …

Sitting close to him had put her on edge, so she’d gone into the kitchen to prepare a nice cheese and fruit plate for them to pick at. Even after he’d said, ‘Oh, not cheese. You shouldn’t eat cheese. It’s bad for your chakras.’

‘I’m supposed to find my centre. Connect more fully with the me deep inside me … I think. It’s sort of how can a happy person be happier in a more spiritual way, but not too spiritual because …’ She coughed. ‘Spiritual can freak some people out.’ She shrugged, pulling grapes off the bunch one by one to buy her time.

‘Cool. Will I be in this article? Do you need my picture? How about I stand over –?’

That was when she truly tuned him out and found her phone in her back pocket. She scrolled to “Not Kevin” in her contacts – because that was how the idiot titled his outgoing texts – and punched in
Help! Code Blowhard!

Joel was wandering around her living room as she watched from the breakfast bar that connected the kitchen to the living room. He was still saying stuff, but now it just sounded like nonsense noises. She waited for the tone and when her phone buzzed and blipped at her she seized it like a drowning person grabbing a lifesaver. She practically waved the phone at Joel so he could note the fact that it was ringing and held up a finger, smiling at him as she turned her attention to the phone.

‘Hello?’

‘Oh my goodness,’ Kevin said in a totally deadpan voice. ‘It is such an emergency. You must stop what you are doing and help me, Sophie.’

He spoke with no inflection whatsoever, as if he were doing his nails while he said it. Which he very well might be.

‘Really? I’ll be right there.’ She did her best to put concern into her voice and not burst out laughing with relief. ‘I was on a date but I can reschedule. Hang tight,’ she said.

It took only a few minutes to hustle a shocked and surprised Joel out the door, promising she’d call to reschedule. Though she never would. Whatever she was looking for, it was not someone like him.

Sophie considered heading over to Kevin’s with the last of the bottle, but opted for flopping down on the sofa and pouring herself another glass. She stared at the ceiling and pondered why she did not date men prettier than herself.

Her phone jingled.

Better?

Yes, thanks. Now I’m going to work.

Oh, sexy night. Have fun! XO

Sophie snorted and turned on her laptop. Notes were going to be important for this.

Yoga is not for me, dear readers … I am more zany than Zen. More centrifugal than centred …

She tapped along until it was time to pour another glass. Then she found a comfy position and turned on a horrid reality show about men who secretly stripped for extra money and the women in their lives who had no clue. She knew she should change the channel but it was like a train wreck – she couldn’t seem to look away.

Simon came up and nuzzled her, hopping on the sofa to curl around her legs. He licked her hand and pushed his big head beneath her palm in a classic pet-me-now manoeuvre.

‘I know. He was terrible. He barely acknowledged you.’ She laughed.

Then she drifted off to the sight of a buff construction worker tearing off his faux policeman uniform at a bachelorette party while his wife was home with their kids, oblivious.

‘How about me? How do I look?’ He was going down on her but kept checking his position and his profile in the glass entertainment centre, she noticed. His tongue was doing marvellous things to her when he wasn’t looking at his hair.

‘You look great,’ Sophie said. ‘Perfect.’ She pushed her body up to meet his mouth. Her pussy slick and ready for him to deliver the coup de grace and make her come.

He nudged her drenched slit with his tongue and moved up just a touch – just where she needed it – to suck her clit. The pressure of his mouth was overwhelming. Just what she needed.

His fingers plunged into her, withdrew, plunged again, stimulating her slick cunt in just the right way. Her body rippled around his driving fingers, clenched at him, grew taut – keeping her right on the edge of coming. And then he put that mouth down on her again – sucking, licking, lapping.

Sophie grabbed his dark hair in her seeking hands, holding his head where she needed it, moving up in desperate little thrusts to meet him until he said, ‘Hey, the hair …’

‘Sorry. Sorry.’ Better to just get on with it. ‘Fuck me. Please. I want it.’

She was never that bold but hey, it had been a while. A long while she realised as she watched him unzip his jeans. Tug his cock free and jerk it once, twice in his big hand. He had nice hands. It almost distracted her from his narcissism. He rolled a condom on, glancing at his erection as lovingly as he glanced at his hair. She almost felt invisible, but was eager enough to have sex that she was OK with it. He could use her while adoring himself, she could use him while getting a well-deserved, long overdue orgasm.

He slid the sheathed tip of his cock along her opening, leaning in close to kiss her. When he broke the kiss, he grabbed her thighs and spread them wide, hiking her up a bit toward him, hard enough to make her gasp. His hand slipped under her ass and he levered her just a bit more toward him, her bottom right on the edge of the sofa as he knelt between her legs.

He slid in slowly, finally, watching her face. Sophie threw her arms back, gripping the plump cushion behind her head. She moved her body up to take him deeper. When he finally filled her and the base of his cock bumped her clit, the first shockwave of pleasure travelled through her. Sophie moaned, reached for him, and –

‘For just nineteen ninety-nine!’

She blinked, seeing a man waving a long, wicked-looking knife at her via the TV screen. He then proceeded to cut through a plastic bottle as if that were the most natural thing in the world and everyone did it.

‘Balls,’ Sophie said.

Simon grinned at her, his long, pink tongue hanging out. Two hours had passed, her neck was stiff, and it was barely going on 10.30. Her body pulsed with unrealised release, the dream serving up some very real arousal with no outlet. She could go get herself off again, but the furry face regarding her was one of patience and its own need. A need to go outside.

‘Hold on, big boy, let me get my shoes and brush my teeth. I have puppy breath, you can commiserate, yes?’

He grinned some more, wagging his big tail. She took that as a yes.

In the bathroom, Sophie eyed herself in the mirror. Big, tangled mess of blonde hair from sleeping. Dazed blue eyes, also from sleeping. Serious frown lines from … what? From worry about what was at her centre? What was
more
in her life that she wasn’t aware of.

‘More like there’s maybe not
more
to discover.’ Even as she gazed at herself, her eyes registered shock. That seemed to be the problem. Worrying that there was not more to her. That this was it.

She leant in to examine what could have been the beginning of a wrinkle and her pelvis crushed to the hard, unforgiving porcelain of the sink. The arousal that had been abating came back with a vengeance. She could feel her heartbeat in her midsection and her pussy. It beat heavily against the cold sink.

Sophie shifted her hips and felt a spike of pleasure behind the dull, thudding lust. She did it again. And then again. Shut her eyes to try and call up the images in her dream. But, remembering who the dream was supposedly about, she shook that off. And there he was again. The faceless him. The him who apparently lived in her psyche.

He was knocking her legs wide. Positioning himself between her spread legs – he was fit, whoever he was. Then entering her. Holding her wrists to the bed as he plunged in deep and hard. Her breath came in short little catches as she stood on her tippy-toes so her clit was the part rubbing against the lip of the sink as she undulated her hips.

Sophie kept her eyes squeezed shut, forced herself to stay in that moment. She moved her body a bit faster, worked up more friction, kept her mind’s eye trained on the him inside her who was fucking her. Holding her ankles now, murmuring to her. He had big, strong hands and a deep, soothing voice and his cock … yes, that. That was good.

She came with a startled little burst of air and a quick rush of blood to her cheeks, suddenly embarrassed despite it only being her in the apartment. A small whimper sounded from outside the door and she chirped, ‘Coming, baby.’ Poor choice of words. ‘I’ll take you out right now.’

She splashed cold water on her face and blotted it dry. She really had to get control of herself. Fantasising about some faceless him was going to get her absolutely nowhere.

She could hear Temperance in her head then. ‘Oh, I don’t know! Look at your list. Holding positive intentions and manifesting is on there!’

‘Bloody list,’ Sophie grumbled and hurried out to get the dog.

Simon had this thing he did. He looked as if he was doing his business but was not. Not really. Oh, he peed and Sophie saw that for sure. Poor thing. She’d kept him waiting much too long; the look he gave her as he stood there with his leg cocked for what seemed like for ever said that clearly. But then he shuffled back in the shadows and she tried to tell if he was doing what he needed to do. She wanted to clean it up, after all.

He came out of the darkness and circled around her legs, his face a mask of puppy happiness.

‘Well? Did you?’ she asked, exasperated.

Sophie leant forward to look and he ran right under her, tipping her off balance. She reached her hands out, bag flapping, to catch herself. Landing in an awkward downward dog position, she was able to find her centre – the irony wasn’t lost on her – and balance her centre of gravity. She was just thankful her hands hadn’t landed in anything beyond some still frozen snow and some twigs and leaves.

‘Simon,’ she growled, still trying to find purchase to right herself. Good news was, from what she could see, no poo to clean up.

‘Is this how you spend your time now? Wooing strangers on the street with odd yoga positions. Though I must say,’ the voice went on. ‘I do miss this ass.’

And then a soft touch along her lower spine, just above her bottom.

Sophie gasped, jerking up into a standing position to find herself face to face with Tony. Her Tony. Well, her ex Tony. Her head swam with fairy lights as a head rush overtook her. Without considering it, she reached out a hand to steady herself. His big biceps flexed under her grasping fingers as he put a steadying hand on her hip.

‘You OK, Soph?’

She nodded her head. Bad move. Stupid move. ‘Yes, you just surprised me. And I stood too fast. And …’

Simon was winding himself around their legs, butting between them, imposing himself between her and Tony so Tony would notice him. She swore sometimes he was more feline than canine.

‘Who’s this?’

‘Simon.’

‘As in simple?’

Sophie snorted shook her head. ‘As in Le Bon.’

‘Ah yes, 80s crushes never die, do they?’

She couldn’t help but laugh. ‘How are you?’ she asked. No reason not to be a grown-up. They’d not broken up because of any melodrama or big issue. They’d broken up because life had gotten busy and they’d each started brushing the other off. Not in a malicious way, just in a modern way. I’m so busy and you are expendable, was how it felt. Which made it clear to them both that they weren’t destined for any big fairy tale love.

‘I’m fine. Finer now I saw that luscious ass of yours.’

She swatted him. ‘Knock it off.’

‘Nice hair too.’

Sophie patted her head. ‘Jesus. I fell asleep on the sofa. And I just brought him out to do his business. I didn’t think I’d
see
anyone.’