Requisite Vices (20 page)

He doesn’t respond, but I entertain the thought of him squirming with a hard to hide hard-on pressing against his jeans, and smile.

I walk into the bathroom with the balls inside of me, the metal bells wrapped in a silicone covering clanking together and sending pulses of pleasure to every part of my body with each sway of my hips.

I wash up, and pull on a night gown. It’s the only nightgown I have in my closet, as I’m more prone to sleeping nude or in panties and a tank top, and is a deep red with lace trimming around the edges, and a plunging neckline. The straps are nothing more than thin strings, and the way the silk rests on my breasts and hips heightens my feelings of excitement.

I feel sexy, even if it’s just me in my room. There’s no chance of me going out anywhere today, anyhow and it’s getting quite late, so why should I bother putting on everyday clothes?

I get a bit more work done at my computer and decide to call it an early night, sticking to my instructions on keeping them inside of me.

I receive a text from him around 11 p.m., which wakes me from an uneasy slumber.

*How are you feeling?*

*Teased and tired.*

*Did I wake you? You can take them out for the night if you still have them in. It may keep you from getting adequate sleep. Do you work tomorrow?*

*Yes, just for a few hours. 12-3. *

*I want you to wear the balls again for those 3 hours. Where do you work? *

*Linden College.*

And the silence I’ve began expecting from him follows. No reply and no explanation. Instead of worrying and obsessing, I laugh, silence my phone and curl up for bed. It’s felt like a long, dragging day that consisted of me doing essentially nothing, and I’m all too anxious to try my hand at getting a decent nights rest.

Chapter 22

After I dres
s
for my mid-morning class, I insert my ‘homework’, and head for the door. Tom’s shoes are resting innocently just inside the front door, and seeing as how Riley isn’t dancing around the kitchen over eggs while blasting music, I assume she’s still curled up in bed with her long-time love-muffin.

As I step into the classroom, I am greeted by 10 smiling faces. Incredible. It’s a new record! Halfway through the semester and these fuckers finally decide to show up. They’ll be sorely disappointed when their final grades come in.

The clock crawls, as I work on suppressing the waves of pleasure originating from the Ben Wa balls buried inside of me. I manage to drag through the first half of the lesson, flip on a movie, and try my best to pay attention. Once the short clips ends, and I’ve collected the various half-assed papers from my students, I grace them with an early release, then spend some time in the empty room. The silence allows my thoughts to shuffle; pieces of Delacroix’s face…his lips, his eyes, his curls, piece together into a perfect picture of a man, dancing its’ way between the desks as the sunlight shimmers through his phantom form. 

Closing my eyes to banish the ghost from the room, I pull out the first paper that had been turned in and begin reading. Surprisingly, it isn’t half bad, and I’m grateful to know that at least one student has bothered to listen to the lectures and read over what I post. Soon, I’m losing myself in the students essay; a tale of death and heartache. It’s a sad story spun by a girl far too young to experience these tortures of the world, but then again, I was like that once.

Wrapping up my first paper, I pull out the second and Delacroix tugs at my thoughts as the balls shift inside of me. His texts and his voice pick at the surface and I rest my head in my hand, closing my eyes tight in an attempt to push those feelings down just for a bit longer. I’m too old to be fussing over labels and ‘boyfriend/girlfriend’ shit. The constant battle of what we are is idiotic, and I really need to get over it. I’m too old to be thinking about silly things like this, and obsessing over someone so completely is unbecoming. Stress is causing me to gray before my time. They’re there every morning, staring me in the face like the petrified coils of medusa’s snakes.

I close up my books, pack my bag and head for the door. Something about the silence of an empty room can be so peaceful and calming, and it’s always a bit heart wrenching to leave, knowing I’ll be bombarded by the stomping footsteps and overwhelming chatter of countless students swarming the halls.

As I step over the threshold into the hallway, I catch someone leaning against the wall just outside the door, with a hat pulled low over their eyes. My eyes catch the glint of a pair of familiar glasses, just visible beneath the lid, and auburn curls carefully tucked beneath a well-worn Saint’s hat.

“Miss Roman.”

My heart plummets into the pit of my stomach.

“I hope your classes went well. Have you done your homework?”

I nod, my eyes darting around the hall in paranoia. My lips part to speak but nothing comes out. He smiles, and takes my hand, leading me down the hallway and into a stairwell. I can hear the commotion of the surging mass of students traveling along the hallways and stairs, but this stairway is a bit further out of the way, and is usually empty around this time. He pins me between his body and the wall, pushing his lips hungrily against mine. His tongue slips past my lips to invade my mouth, and I can do nothing against him. My legs tremble beneath me as he presses himself against me, his hands reaching up and tugging my hair as I moan against his lips. The kiss lasts a mere few seconds, but leaves me flushed and trembling as he pulls away.

I feel like I’m doing something terrible…something forbidden, like a high school student sneaking a make-out session with a member of the football team. The excitement is there, but there’s a level of professionalism expected of me. Doing something here…no. What if we were caught? I could lose my job! No, if he wants more, we need to move somewhere else.

His eyes lock with mine and his face is a mix of hunger and hesitation.

“It’s a bit risky for you to come here, isn’t it?”

“Yes. I had to meet with my agent nearby, and figured I’d stop in. I couldn’t leave without seeing you...”

“Did you…want to find somewhere a bit more private?”

Pulling away, he grins, then runs his fingers through his hair.

“Actually, I wanted to ask you to a coffee. I’m not often in this area, is there anything you suggest?”

“There’s a coffee shop not too far, maybe 10 or 15 minutes away.”

“That sounds fine. We can take my car if you wish?”

I nod, and let him lead me out of the building. He doesn’t hold my hand, and I’m grateful. Displays of affection, especially around my workplace, are something I don’t condone when there are watchful eyes. The last thing I need are rumors of me and some guy holding hands and walking around campus like a couple of teenagers. I already feel like the higher-ups are out to get me, though I don’t help my situation with all the classes I miss.

He leads me through the parking garage and to a midnight blue Lexus, which sparkles beneath the harsh, florescent lights of the parking garage. It’s a beautiful car; the type I’d often bring up on my computer, and fantasize about owning one day but know I’d never make enough money to afford something so extravagant.

He walks to the passenger side and holds the door open as I crawl in; the black leather seat conforming to the shape of my body and cradling me in its arms. I look over at him and smile as he crawls in the drivers’ seat, then my eyes drop to the shift. Yes! A manual transmission! Oh how I love a man who can drive a stick.

He shifts the car into gear as I guide him through the streets toward my favorite coffee shop. It doesn’t look like much from the outside; a brown building shoved in the corner between a tanning salon and a subway, and I could see the doubt on his face. We slip in the front doors and are assaulted by all the wonderful aromas I’ve come to associate with a good coffee spot; the scent of coffee and the smell of freshly baked goods. Muffins and pastries decorate the glass cases that make up the front counter, and most of the tables are already occupied. We place our order with a short, blonde girl with a round face, cherry red cheeks and a squeaky voice. She’s all too eager to take our requests, and moments later, we’re making our way to a lone table in the back corner, with hot coffee in our hands.

I choose the seat against the wall as he settles in next to me, and immediately brings the scalding liquid to his lips. He stares across the table at me; his eyes drawing me in, tugging me down, and threatening to drown me within them. They’re filled with years of sorrow, of love, of heartache, of desire, and of his steeled drive and confidence. They flash his dominant nature, mixed with a soft, caring hand, and I’m enraptured. He smiles softly, reaching across the table to take my hand. His thumb gently caresses the top of my hand.

“How was work?” he asks gently.

“It was the same as it always is, I suppose. Tiring, and frustrating. I never thought I’d be teaching students like this, I guess.  I was expecting something entirely different. What about you? How are things?”

“They’re going,” he chuckles. “I’m afraid it’s just that. It’s a lot of back and forth, but I will have it squared away eventually. I was pleased with your article, and must thank you for such a finely crafted piece. I can’t wait to see it finished and in print.”

Blood rushes to my cheeks, and a smirk paints across his face. He reaches under the table, his hand still warm from holding the coffee, and lets his fingers dance along my knee. I squirm in my seat uncomfortably as the barista from the front counter comes to ask if we need anything further, then leaves promptly as he waves her off.

“How are those balls feeling, my dear?” he asks, innocently, the moment the barista leaves.

“They’re agonizing” I groan, careful to keep my voice low. “It makes it a bit difficult to concentrate.”

“But you will find that control, won’t you?”

“Yes, Sir…” I murmur, glancing around nervously for fear that someone may hear our conversation.

“You’re such a good girl.” he breathes, leaning over the table. His fingers lightly brush along the underside of my forearm, and it sends a shocking pulse through my body. I never knew a gesture like that would bring so much…pleasure. At that moment, I find that my lip has become oddly appetizing, and begin nibbling mercilessly on the corner of it.

When we’re done our drinks, he helps me stand, and leads me to his car. Once we’re housed within the tinted windows, lush leather interior and metal frame, he leans over and presses his lips to my neck. I inhale sharply and writhe in the seat, feeling myself dampen immediately in excitement.

“Alex…” I whisper.

He pulls away, letting one hand linger on my thigh for a few seconds before he starts the car.

“I have a meeting at 5 for drinks with my agent, and he’s always very punctual so I must be sure to be on time. I always love seeing you, though, and wanted the chance to feel you while I’m here.”

Feel me? I want you to feel more of me…

“So, I won’t see you again till our theater date?” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I immediately regret saying the word ‘date’. It feels so informal…so juvenile, but he doesn’t seem to take notice, or he doesn’t care. I’m sure I’m making that silly statement out to be far worse than it really is.

“Correct. I need to get back to my room and get a few things together before the meeting. I’ll be gone first thing in the morning, and I don’t imagine I’ll be available later this evening.”

“Oh…”

I try to mask my disappointment, after all, I have a life of my own too. It just involves sitting on the couch with a bottle of wine and watching reruns of my favorite British sci-fi show. I don’t want him to feel guilty, but for the first time, he’s actually in my area. To know I’ve only had time for a quick touch, and for him to tease me to a near breaking point without having the chance to bring him home, is torture. I want to have his scent permeating my bed sheets. Leaning towards me, his lips press faintly against my cheek, then shifts the car into gear and drives me back to the school.

As we say our goodbyes, he wraps me in his arms and kisses my forehead amidst the students surging through the parking garage, then takes off.

My heart is aching, as well as that delicious, soaking spot between my thighs, but the heart ache is overwhelming. It overshadows the lustful beast, reaching its sobbing tendrils into every crevice of my body. It’s as if he drove off with my still beating heart, secured in his back pocket, and there’s not a thing I can do about it. Shaking my head, I climb in my car and head home.

Just block it out.

If I can convince myself that it didn’t happen, maybe it won’t hurt so much.

Chapter 23

Riley has, once again
,
outdone herself as she slaps a perfect medium rare steak on my plate, and a matching one onto Tom’s. He’s become a fairly regular guest at our table, and has taken to entertaining us with stories from his childhood and from work. He has this way of spinning a story that always makes us laugh, and it’s managed to lighten a bit of the ache which has settled deep in my body.

I can’t help but feel like a third wheel in their happiness, sometimes. They find ways to keep me included, but I can’t always push away the sting of loneliness when I see the loving glances and secret smiles they share.

Riley comes to the table with the last addition to the table; a lovely, precious bottle of red wine. Alcohol has always been a necessary sustenance, and though I’m trying so hard not to drink as much, it’s often my go-to for numbness in the absence of me grabbing a random person off the street to fuck senseless.

As she fills our glasses and settles in next to Tom, my phone buzzes from my back pocket. Riley and I have developed this very strict ‘no phones at the table’ policy. We both have agreed that it distracts from the conversation and social aspect of a meal, and that phones are better left turned off and thrown in a corner somewhere. However, she’s been lenient with me, and allows me to leave mine on vibrate for the purposes of anything work related that may come up.

As Riley and Tom wrap themselves in their own private joke, I sneak a peek at the phone. Surprisingly, it’s Ethan. He’s sent me a text to remind me that he’s thinking of me, and wishing I were closer. A picture accompanies it, of him wrapped in a wool coat with a scarf around his neck. It’s nearing the end of October, now, and it’s already gotten cold up north. The same, however, cannot be said for the bipolar weather of Louisiana. It’s in the 40’s one day, and mid 80’s the next. I have a hard time keeping up with the constant wardrobe changes.

I smile at the picture and managed to get it tucked back into my pocket when there’s a knock at the door. Frustrated at the sight of my poor steak sitting untouched on my plate and getting colder by the second, I grudgingly go to the door. Riley and Tom can’t be bothered, as they’re stuck in their own little world, and probably haven’t noticed the knock, much less, me leaving the table.

I reach for the door, wrench it open, and am greeted by none other than Alexander Delacroix standing before me in a pair of black slacks and a pale blue collared shirt. I’m shocked, and attempted to hide my emotions from striking themselves across my face. I thought his night was booked? I thought he didn’t have time for me this evening, and more importantly, how the hell did he know where I live?

He smiles, the gold flecks in his brown eyes glinting, as he stands patiently at the threshold.

“May I come in?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess. How did you get my address?”

“I spoke with Angela. She was more than happy to give out your information. You may want to speak with her about that.” He chuckles.

I step aside and let him walk in. Riley has just gotten up to make her way to the door when she stops dead in her tracks. Her eyes move from him, to me, then back again. I can see the question already bubbling in her eyes, but Riley, being the perfect hostess, must introduce herself properly. She walks up to Delacroix and holds out her hand, the sweetest smile slipping across her lips.

“Oh! I didn’t realize we were expecting more company. I’m Riley Moreau, and who might you be?”

He takes her hand, lifts it to his lips, and gently kisses the top of her hand. Her cheeks blush in immediate response, and she pulls her hand away quickly, thoughtfully rubbing the spot where his lips had been just seconds before.

“I apologize if I’m intruding. I’m the man you spoke with the other day; the one who had been with Cass after her trip to the airport. I don’t think I ever told you my name. I’m Alexander Delacroix. It’s a pleasure.”

“It’s a pleasure, Mister Delacroix.” She says in response, then steps to the side and sweeps her arm towards the dining room. “Please, come in.”

Tom has risen from the table to see what all the commotion was, and at his approach, his eyes widen to a near comical size.

“Sweetie,” Riley says lovingly, “this is…”

“Alexander Delacroix! It’s an absolute pleasure, Sir.” He rushes forward, grabbing one of Alex’s hands in both of his own, and shakes enthusiastically.  “I’m Thomas Locke. It’s wonderful to meet you!”

Riley rolls her eyes at Tom’s enthusiasm, then turns her attention back to Alex. “Have you eaten, yet? I have an extra plate, and would be honored if you joined us for dinner.”

“Thank you, Miss Moreau. I’d hate to intrude…”

“Oh, not at all! Please, come in and have a seat! I’ll grab a plate.”

Of course there’s extra food. Riley is more apt to cook for a dozen people than a party of three, and often has leftovers stored in the fridge that I use for my lunch during the week.

Before he can fully digest her words, she’s grabbed his hand and set him in the seat next to my own. She’s a tempest as she moves through the kitchen, dragging me along with her as she prepares a plate for him. As she slips a steak onto his plate and spoons mashed potatoes and green beans, her voice takes on an urgent whisper.

“Is that him?”

“Yes…”

“He’s kind of cute! Why didn’t you tell me he was cute? You should’ve warned me!”

“I guess it never came up.”

“Well good for you! Now put that man in his place.”

I stifle a laugh, and peek over at the table where Tom has engaged Alex in conversation. It’s a low murmur that I can barely make out, then I see Tom reach over and grasp Alex’s hand, shaking it enthusiastically once more. The look on Alex’s face is a mask, carefully placed as to not offend the overly excited Thomas Locke.

Riley and I make our way back to the table with her gingerly placing a plate before Alex, and outfitting his place with silverware and a wine glass, which she fills halfway.

“Riley! This is Alexander Delacroix!” Tom says enthusiastically.

“Yes, sweetie, he told me that when he came in, and you repeated it yet again at the door. And again…just now. I think I’ve gotten the point.”

“Do you know who that is?”

“Someone Cass knows, obviously.”

“Riley, I love you, but I think I need to expand your reading collection.”

Riley shoots a heated look at Tom, clearly not impressed with his lack of manners when he’s wound up. Tom chokes back his next words and clears his throat, his eyes taking on an apologetic look.

“What I meant to say is, he’s the author of one of my favorite books. I guess I’m just a bit excited. Do we have tea? I could really use a cup of tea. Can I get you cup of tea, Mister Delacroix?”

“No, I’m quite fine with the wine, thank you.”

Tom jumps from his seat, rushes to the kitchen, and comes back minutes later with a piping hot cup.

Alex shifts uncomfortably under Tom’s attentions, and tries his best to keep his eyes focused on his plate as Tom rattles off about the book and everything he knows about the illustrious Alexander Delacroix to Riley.

Once Alex has checked to make sure Riley is completely engrossed in Tom’s ramblings, he busies himself by finding a distraction of his own from the conversation.

His hand slips under the table and rests on my thigh, squeezing affectionately. I nearly choke on the piece of steak I’ve slipped between my lips, and I shift in my seat. His lips curl into an impish smile as he casts a side glance in my direction. I still have those balls buried deep inside of me, at his request, and I desperately ache to feel him rip them out of me and replace them with him.

His fingers slide over my inner thigh, slowly working their way up higher…higher. My heart picks up its’ pace, moving from a slow dance to a pounding drumbeat in my ears. I bite my lip and absently stare at my food as my mind soaks in his touch. Glancing up, I notice Riley’s eyes locked on mine, tuning out Tom’s voice. She grins that knowing grin, and clears her throat.

“So, Alexander, I hear you’re treating Cass to a show this upcoming weekend?”

His hand wrenches away from my leg and leaves me yearning. I don’t want him to stop. I don’t care who is watching. I want him to throw me on this table and fuck me till I scream.

“Ah, yes. I have. It’s one that I’m quite fond of, and I know she has yet to see it. I was hoping she’d find as much enjoyment in it as I do.”

Oh I’m sure I’ll find plenty of enjoyment if his hands are roaming over my body during it.

“She’s always talking about how she wants to see something at the theater, but she never takes the time to go act on those impulses! I’m glad you two are going. You will keep her safe in the city, I hope? I’m always hearing about a murder or rape, or some other heinous crime in that city. I need someone to pay the bills, so losing her would be a huge inconvenience.”

He smiles, the same smile that roped me into trusting him within minutes.

“I’ll keep her safe, I promise.”

We finish our meal, and Alex leaves shortly after. Tom is still gushing over being able to get his autograph, and pummeling me with questions about how I met him, and the nature of our relationship while he busies himself with making yet another cup of tea. I explain how I did an article on him, and how we’ve become friends, but nothing further. This isn’t high school; I don’t kiss and tell.

Riley has decided to take care of the clean up on her own, so I grab a glass of wine and head back up to my room. The toy inside of me is driving me wild, and having the chance to catch the scent of him this evening as left the ache of wanting on my lips. I wanted to kiss him…to push him against that wall and rip his clothes from his body. I wanted to see that fire in his eyes again, and yet, it was just out of reach.