Just A Woman (The Porter Trilogy Book 2) (12 page)

He’s trying to woo me. Alex is not a romantic person, at all, but I know that’s what he is doing, and if wasn’t for the fact that I know my roommate Danny hates Alex, I would think Danny is helping him set all of this up. I just don’t know how he is doing it, but honestly, I don’t think I care.

So, back to my roses. I have ten beautiful roses I’ve received over the past two weeks. Today, when I got home from work, I was opening the door of my apartment, and I was a little disappointed. I was home early, since tonight’s the night of the fundraiser gala for work. I didn’t want to go, partially because of my exhaustion and partially because I don’t think I’m ready to face Alex yet, but my boss told me I didn’t really have a choice.

I was disappointed because I hadn’t received a rose. I know it’s really stupid of me to be upset, but I had come to expect the flowers and it was the highlight of my days. I walked into my apartment and headed straight to my room. I had no idea what to wear to this fundraiser, I just knew it needed to be fancy.

If you could have seen the shock on my face when I entered the room and saw what was on my bed, you would all be laughing at me. On my bed lay the most beautiful dress I had ever seen. It was a silver and black strapless dress. I wish you could see it, my description won’t be very good. The entire dress was fitted until the knees, where it had a very slight flair, and even a slight train. The black and the silver sections wrapped around each other spiraling down to the bottom of the dress. It reminded me of the yellow and red brick road in The Wizard of Oz. The entire dress sparkled with mini shards of silver and black crystals. It was breathtaking.

Next to the dress was a pair of silver heels, the most perfect heels; stunning and perfect. They were adorned with black crystal shards as well, complimenting the dress perfectly, like they were made to be worn together. There was also a diamond bracelet, a necklace with a black teardrop onyx stone, and an onyx clip for my hair. It was the perfect outfit.

But, what really made this perfect, is what was lying on top of the dress. I’ll give you all three guesses and the first two don’t count. You got it, a rose. My eleventh rose. As you can also probably guess, I broke down in sobs. I reached for the rose and held it up to my nose, inhaling its sweet perfume. I reached out for the dress multiple times, but couldn’t bring myself to actually touch it, not for a long time.

Danny came into my room shortly after and hustled me into the bathroom for a shower. I cried the entire time. Happy tears of love. I know where I am going to get the twelfth rose to complete the series. Tonight, at the fundraiser. I didn’t ask if he was going to be there, but I know he will be, and I just know deep down, that’s when I will get the last rose.

Now here I sit, in a towel, typing out all of this when I really need to be getting ready. Danny is outside of my locked door, waiting to be let in to help me. My nerves are shot and I’m a jumbled mixture of anxious, excited and terribly nervous. I’m ready to give him another shot, but my heart can’t take another crack.

To all of you, my faithful followers, I will update you as soon as I get to the fundraiser. Thanks to this handy app, I can update on the go!

As always, I love you all and will talk to you soon! 

Alex

I’d never felt as nervous as I did in that moment. Today had been one of the best and the worst days of my life, and my hope was that it would get better in the next few minutes.
Come on Porter, be a man. There’s no reason to be nervous. She’s just a woman.
Too bad she wasn’t just a woman to me. She was my woman, and even though the first part of my morning had been utter shit, I was determined to not let it hinder my evening.

I had been jarred awake this morning by another fucking nightmare. I’d had these nightmares ever since I was a young child, different variations at different ages, but when Charlotte came into my life, they had all but disappeared. I should have taken it as a sign back then, but like an idiot, I ignored the signs and tried to make Charlotte my fuck buddy. Today, and for the past few months, I had been paying the price for my idiocy.

Now that she had cut herself out of my life, the nightmares had returned full force, more vivid than ever. The one I experienced last night was probably the worst of any I had ever had. It revolved around the night my adopted mom, Rachel Mansfield, found me. I remember very little of that time, only small bits pieced together in my dreams. I was seventeen at the time, but my awake mind had blocked so much of it, protecting me from complete meltdown. My subconscious, unfortunately, liked to torture me while I slept, making me relive things that no one should ever have to endure.

I remember being in a plush extravagant room, purple satin draping the extra-large bed, gray and Black paintings adorning the walls. I remember seeing myself, lying naked in the middle of the bed, my face covered with old yellow bruises and new purple and red ones forming under the intense swelling of my cheek, eye, and lip. Every time I had this dream, I watched from afar, the scene unfolding before me. I could see the abuse all over me. This time was different. This time, I was in my own body, no longer spectating.

I heard yelling outside of the door, but I couldn’t lift my head enough to try and hear what was being said. My current master at the time also didn’t like me moving from the spot he left me in. Of all the masters my foster parents sold me to, he was the nicest, so I tried not to anger him. After he finished with me, he would normally treat me nicely and take care of me.

Suddenly, an angel walked in, slamming the door behind her. I tried to tell her not to untie me, Master would be very upset, but she wouldn’t hear it. She kept screeching at no one in particular. I couldn’t decipher her words back then, or in the dream, but as a grown man, I knew that the angel had been Rachel, and she had been in a rage over how she had found me.

In real life, I had been saved that night, taken to a police station, while my foster parents were brought in and arrested. I never saw them again. In my dream, the woman who entered was dressed in white, her opulence shining down on me. Suddenly, she screwed up her face and then was savagely ripped apart from the inside out, morphing into the devil. My master came in and both he and the devil beat me until I blacked out. This was usually the end of the dream.

This morning’s pavor nocturnus had been mostly the same, but wildly different. Instead of Rachel being my angel, the beautiful savior had been Charlotte. She was stunning and I couldn’t peel my eyes away from hers. Her emeralds shined through me. When the inevitable happened, and a demon pushed out from her ribs, tearing her down the center, I woke up sweating, panting, and with an erection hard enough to cut through diamonds. The worst part about my returning nightmares was my body's reaction to them. I always woke up with my cock in my hand, ready to blow. It was degrading, to say the least. How could I be even a little turned on by the disgusting things that took place in my dream land? 

Every time this happened, no matter the time, I found myself outside jogging. I needed the fresh air and time to clear my head. This morning was no different, and by 4:45am, I was hitting the pavement hard, trying to wash away the memories of my past with the sweat of my present run. The wind in my hair made me feel alive and not quite so broken. If I had been a better man, I would have possibly considered going to therapy, but I wasn’t a better man, and I had no intentions of telling a stranger my deluded past.

Throughout my run, I concentrated on things other than my night terrors and smiled as my thoughts drifted towards Charlotte. So far, my plans had gone off without a hitch. She had received my roses and always looked incredibly happy after getting one. Tapping into the cameras in the office had been a genius idea on Rachel’s part. Tonight was going to be the hardest to pull off, but would hopefully reap the most rewards. Her dress had been ready to be picked up at noon and I had to get it to her house with the accessories before she got home at three. The timing had to be perfect.

Danny, begrudgingly, had given me a key to get everything done, but I think, deep down, Danny was seeing, as well as I was, how happy Charlotte was since I had started my pursuit to get her back. I had set up the outfit on her bed, knowing her room would be the first place she would head to after she got home from work. I stood a little longer than necessary to make sure everything was how I envisioned it being, ending the ensemble with her 11th rose.

I had just barely made it out of the apartment before her car pulled up, parking in her normal spot, and as much as I wanted to stay and see her reaction, I didn’t have access to her bedroom window and her blinds were closed. I snuck my way around the building to where Bracks was waiting and made my way home, smiling, my head leaned back against the cool leather imagining her reaction.

Now, several hours later, I find myself standing in my black tux with matching silver tie, conversing with people I couldn’t care less about, mingling, and eyeing the door, waiting for her to walk through it. I knew I shouldn’t have been feeling this nervous, but somehow, I couldn’t stop my hand from migrating to my hair and running my fingers through it. I felt like a little girl, nervous for her first date.

“Alex, she’ll be here soon, stop fidgeting,” Rachel said, walking up behind me and pulling my hand from my hair.

“Yeah, Yeah,” I mumbled. I couldn’t bring myself to deny that I was, in fact, a fidgeting mess waiting for Charlotte. Rachel knew better than anyone and she knew what was happening, not only as my adoptive mother, but also as Charlotte’s boss. “Tell me Rachel, how has she been? Your cameras can only show so much,” I asked.

“She’s been well, Alex, and I don’t think you need to worry. I’ve never seen her so happy and glowing. I think your attempts are working,” she said, taking a sip of the champagne she held in her hands.

I was still apprehensive about seeing her. I hadn’t laid eyes on her since the coffee incident after her father’s funeral. I was determined to make this right and to keep nothing from her. I knew it would be hard, because naturally, I wanted to protect her from hearing anything that would upset her, but I couldn’t lose her again. Living without her would have no point. 

I took a look around the room. This was the 6th Annual Fundraiser for Alzheimer's research. Last year, we raised over 2.5 million dollars, and this year, we hoped to double that figure. It was a good cause, but I hated coming to these things. Normally, I came without a date and the women that showed up were persistent in their attempts to catch my eye. Every year, I took one of them home for casual sex, and every year, I told myself I wouldn’t go to the next one.

This year was different. This year I had Charlotte, I hoped. I looked back towards the door and still didn’t see her. It was still early, but my anxiety was through the roof. Taking a deep breath, I walked toward a group of CEO’s from another company in the hopes a work conversation would clear my head for a few minutes while I waited her arrival.

“..and then I said, I’ll show you what my driver can do! Hey, Porter!” Matthew Snyder said, as I walked up to the group laughing at his apparent joke. Matthew Snyder was a pompous asshat, but he was a smart businessman.

Grabbing his hand and giving it a shake, I put on my business face and nestled into the conversational group. “What lies are you telling these good men now, Matt?”

“Ha, you know me well, Porter. I was telling them about my rendezvous with the golf pro at the club. I believe she’s given you some training in her balls...” he smirked, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

The innuendo was not lost on me. I vaguely recalled her, although I wish I hadn’t. She had been a conquest a few months prior to Charlotte, and like most all of the women in my bed, it meant nothing. This line of conversation was not something I needed brought up when Charlotte arrived. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about, Matt.”  I shook the hands of the other men in the group and took my leave. The thought of Matt Snyder with the blonde from the golf club pro shop was enough to make me vomit.

Heading to the bar, I audibly huffed, my distraction not working as well as I’d hoped it would. I took a look at the watch on my wrist and realized I had only been there twenty minutes. I was restless. “Double scotch, single malt, neat.” I recited my order to the bartender, flipping a few bills into the tip cup. I leaned up against the bar and faced the door, waiting to hear of her arrival, sipping my scotch.

Just as I was debating whether or not to text Charlotte, my phone rang.

“Bracks?”

“She’s here, boss.” I could hear the merriment in his tone. Did that mean she was wearing the dress?

“Thanks,” I muttered, ending the call. I placed my drink on the bar and headed towards the middle of the room. I didn’t want to stand right at the entryway and seem too desperate, but I needed her to see me when she came in, before she got swept up in the hustle and bustle of the evening.

While I waited, I glanced around my surroundings. This was a beautiful fundraiser for a great cause. Around the exterior of the room were muted silver spotlights, draped with pristine white cloth, hanging from the ceiling. Hanging down every few feet were black onyx teardrops, similar to the one I had left for Charlotte with her dress. I had to call in multiple favors to find out the decor of the evening.

To my rear was the dance floor, the string quartet on stage behind that, playing a simple classic piece. To the right and left of the dance floor were large circular tables draped in white tablecloths with painted silver three foot flowers in black vases in the center. The chairs were draped in satin black cloth and the napkins were silver. The only color in the room could be found directly to my right. A small table, wrapped in black and silver drapings stood hosting a very large bouquet of 301 red roses, donated by yours truly.