The Alexandra Series (7 page)

“So let me see,” he said, moving down the half flight of stairs to where I was still humbly crouched. “You’ve certainly broken the skin,” he said, then he bent down and using what looked like a clean bandana from his pocket, he mopped the slow trickle of blood that was already beginning to dry on my leg. I was only mildly concerned with the denim skirt riding up my thigh.

“How about coming with me and I’ll clean it for you?”

“Oh, I can take care of it. I live just one flight up.”

“No,” he insisted. “Anyone who’s had your kind of day needs a little kindness. I’m not always so sensitive, so you had better take advantage of my good mood.”

He grabbed my hand and drew me to my feet, not allowing any further protest. Leading me into his apartment just a few feet from the stairs, he pulled out a chair and sat me down at his kitchen table with an authoritative but gentle push.

I loved everything about his place, from the 1950’s dinette to the neon airplane that flickered above a red sofa. The floors were red and white checked linoleum, a few throw rugs here and there. Everything colorful filled the room with a spectrum of light that sent a shiver though me, just as he had done.

And yes, there was an easel in the corner by the wall windows. On it sat an empty canvas. There was a tray beneath it, I assumed filled with paint. I gazed around at the colorful art thinking that it must be his. He definitely had talent. My eyes were drawn to inspect every painting, every knick-knack, every framed photograph filled with bright smiling faces. But instead of continuing my inspection, I looked into my savior’s face as he kneeled in front of me to clean my leg.

“You have quite a scrape here, and I can see a bruise forming. We’ll let it dry a bit before I bandage it.” The warmth of his hands was comforting and thrilling at the same time. He then reached up with a clean corner of his damp cloth and gently wiped the mascara from my face.

“Oh, I must look a mess.”

“Nothing that a little water won’t fix,” he assured me. “Besides, all that black gunk is covering up this pretty face.”

I blushed. “Thank you, this is really sweet of you.”

“Well, unlike you, I’ve had a terrific day. Maybe it will rub off.” He looked at me and smiled. “The name’s Will, Will Kozak.”

“Alex Morgan.”

We replaced a handshake with another deep gaze into each other’s eyes. I felt him look beyond the tear-stained sadness to the something in me that needed comfort beyond the simple cleansing of a scraped knee. I was as nervous as a school girl in the presence of her first crush. The blush deepened on my cheeks.

“I live in 210. You just move in?” I asked.

“Last week, how come I haven’t seen you?”

“I guess we come and go at different times.”

My awkwardness was apparent, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“So, what’s a beautiful woman like you doing, crying in the stairwell?”

I blushed again, this time so much that I could feel my ears burning. “If you continue to call me beautiful, you’ll get most anything from me.” He’d made me smile.

I suddenly remembered how I was dressed, the short skirt, t-shirt. I was immediately self-conscious, thinking he’d notice the difference in the woman I looked like, and what was really there.

“Well, I’m up for a good story,” he prodded.

“It’s nothing really. I’m sure you don’t want to hear my sad tale of woe.”

“And why would you assume that?”

I looked at him for an eternity, taking in the freshness, the life in his smile, the energetic eyes, the power that poured from him. An invisible circle seemed to wind around us like a magic spell. I didn’t struggle against it. I found it calming. At the same time, I was tired, and I didn’t care if I impressed him or not.

“Listen,” I said. “I don’t really feel like bantering back and forth with you about inconsequential things.”

“Good, then you can tell me what’s really bothering you.”

Oh geez, he wouldn’t give up!

He finished dabbing my knee and placed a neat bandage on the tiny cut. “There, now that I’ve bandaged your leg we can get to know each other.”

He moved to his refrigerator and brought out a bottle of wine, pouring two glasses.

“It’s kinda late for wine, don’t you think?”

“Not for me. You want a cup of coffee?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” I said.

I followed him into the living room and sat down on the red sofa. The energy between us was almost palpable as he waited for me to speak.

“Thanks for helping me out tonight. It’s been a strangely amazing day, in fact, a whole, amazing month. I’m really confused about a lot of things, and tonight I found out that a really good friend is leaving town, and generally, I’m just miserable.”

“Your boyfriend?”

“No,” I shook my head. It almost startled me that he should think that. “A girlfriend,” I clarified, though there was no way I’d tell him everything about my night.

“Best friend?”

“I guess you could say that. She’d been helping me with some things, and I was hurt when she suddenly informed me that she was moving to Florida.”

“Helping you with what?”

“You just don’t stop, do you?” I was almost laughing now.

He shrugged.

“I’m a curious guy and it’s just a simple question.”

“As far as helping me, I guess it’s just one of those female angst thing…trying to figure out who I am, that sort of thing.” I couldn’t decide why he was asking me these questions, and what’s more, I couldn’t figure why I was answering, except that he was a real, warm, caring body, and that felt good at the moment. Oddly, I was too tired to bother with the fact that he was so darn attractive.

“So, who are you?”

“That’s what I don’t know. I feel out of place almost everywhere, don’t know what I’d really like to do. I’m bored with my life, but when I try to get out of my rut, I get scared or hurt.”

“So who’s the person you
don’t
want to be?”

“I guess you could call her plain and sweet and rather girlish.”

“And that’s not who you really are,” he stated, as if that fact was obvious to him.

He took a drink of wine, while I averted his steady gaze, looking at the table in front of me. I fixed on a beautiful blown glass vase—red, turquoise, amazing design.

“Alex?” he had to prompt me.

I looked up startled, remembering the conversation. “No, the girlish innocent is not me, but it’s easy. It was what I was brought up to be.”

“Easier than what?” he led me on.

“Well that’s hard to explain. Jane, my friend from work…she’s like a–a poem, all put together so perfectly. There’s nothing about her, not one movement, one gesture out of place. Confident. Self-assured. I love being with her, just to watch her move and talk and smile.” As I brought Jane to mind, I could feel the tears trying to return, the hurt beginning to build again. “She took me places, bought me clothes, different clothes like this. We went dancing and she found me men and…this is going to sound strange, but some of the things we did were right out of fantasies I’ve had. Things I’d make up in my head were beginning to come true.” I don’t know why I was telling him this, but I couldn’t seem to stop.

“Really?” He seemed genuinely interested.

I took a deep breath.

“Don’t believe me, do you? I wouldn’t have either if I hadn’t lived it.”

“Lived what? Tell me.”

I smiled self-consciously, blushing. “Well, twice within a month, I walk into a bar, only to find that everything is a replica of my own imagination; things I made up in my head and never saw before were right there before my eyes. Isn’t that weird?”

Will looked impressed. “That’s pretty freaky.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty freaky. So, what do I do? I get rattled and run away.”

“Is that what happened tonight?”

“No!” I answered too sharply. I thought back to how the evening began at the Red Rose, “Well, sort of. But what’s really got me upset is Jane leaving. The shock of it.”

The light in the room was dim. Will had turned off the bright overhead in the kitchen. Only the neon and the moon illuminated our conversation. I felt like a child telling ghost stories around a campfire on a cool summer evening. In the light of his apartment, the same spine tingling horror moved through my body that had moved in me those long ago summer nights, though this was far more terrifying.

He saw the fright in my eyes.

“Considering your prophetic fantasies, sounds to me like you’re getting what you want. Humm?”

“Oh no, fantasies are one thing, real life is something else. I’ve certainly learned that.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” I don’t think he believed me.

We sat in silence for a moment.

“So what are these fantasies all about?” he asked.

“Sorry, they’re a little too personal.”

“Pretty racy stuff?”

His sexy eyes twinkled and I could feel myself blush again. “Yes, pretty much. But I’m not the woman in my fantasies, it’s just play.” I rose from the sofa. “You know, I think I should go.”

Will looked at me, surprised by the sudden move. But he reached out and grabbed my arm and pulled me back.

“Hey, I’m perfectly safe. I’m not one of your fantasies, am I?”

“Of course not,” I replied, though I was beginning to wonder if perhaps he was.

“Then you don’t have to leave.”

“I’m sorry. I over-reacted. It’s just that I feel as if my whole world has been turned upside down. You’ve been very sweet and I appreciate your taking care of me, listening to me. I needed that, but really I’m tired.”

He smiled. “I understand. Best to put this day to bed.”

He stood and walked me to his door.

“I’d like to see you again, Alex Morgan, it would be nice to have a friend in the building.”

“I’d like that,” I replied.

He gave me a quick peck on the cheek. I shivered, wishing it could have lasted longer. But it was too soon, and before I knew it, I found myself on the other side of Will’s door. Alone again, but not so very much alone.

I didn’t realize how much he affected me until I returned to my apartment. My body ached – a strong, vibrating sexual ache. Thinking of his sexy style, his easy manner, and his hard body – he was the best looking man who’d ever paid attention to me. And he honestly wanted to see me again.

Will Kozak suddenly went from rescuing friend to potential lover – in a heartbeat, in the blink of an eye. The desire was so fierce in me, I almost felt like a traitor to Jane, as if everything I’d felt for her didn’t matter because of Will. My body responded quickly to my idea of him. I didn’t care if I betrayed Jane’s memory – she would have done the same thing if she were in my shoes. Climbing into bed, my hand went to my crotch and within minutes a powerful orgasm took me away – all about Will, and the thought of him fondling me passionately, running his hands over my breasts and ass and belly and the opening so damp with desire. I thought of his stiffened cock inside me, of his riding me around and around in the wonderful circle of his sexy energy. As I drifted off to sleep, I was beginning to realize what Jane meant when she said I needed a man. With that, the thought of men, and specifically Will Kozak, were clearly front and center in my thoughts.

Chapter Seven

More than anything in the world I wanted to stumble into Will again. I made myself as available as I knew how; but for a week I didn’t catch a glimpse of him other than a quick view from my front window, when one morning I saw him climb into a little red Fiat and drive away. My fantasies were filled with thoughts of making love to him, which was a good diversion in light of Jane’s absence. I was possessed anew, but day after day of not seeing him, I began to doubt that he really wanted to see me again. In the midst of my anxious anticipation, I felt a full range of disappointment and hurt, as if I believed that something special had happened that one night that would never happen again. How silly of me to assume so much. He probably had a girlfriend and our one night was just a passing flirtation. By the time Will Kozak finally knocked on my door, I didn’t even imagine that it could be him, and I was totally shocked when it was.

“Hey, you busy? Not too late for a little wine, is it?” He held up a bottle of Shiraz, smiling broadly.

“No, no. Come on in.”

“You look surprised.”

“I am. I hadn’t seen you in a while,” I was so nervous I could hardly speak. “I-I figured you were on to other things.”

“And I was. Sorry, I should have mentioned that I was going out of town on business.”

He walked inside my apartment, gazing around at all the embarrassing frilliness, while I hastily found two wine glasses and the opener in the kitchen. When I returned to the living room, he was staring at an expressionist print, probably the only piece of art with any degree of sophistication in my apartment. He had his back to me, and for just a moment, I stared at his broad shoulders and tight ass, thinking he was about the sexiest man I’d ever known. A familiar rush of desire returned to my body, and I realized how quickly I fallen had for him.