When the release came, it crushed me.
I didn’t reveal the fact, but I experienced my first multiple orgasm that night. Most guys hadn’t really been particularly useful in the orgasm department, either finishing too quickly or not at all… but it was rare that I got to ride the climax myself.
With Lex, I’d lost count of the amount of times he’d thrown me over the cliff.
He was so brutishly rugged, and then there was that English charm of his. Every breath of his accent excited me, forcing me to hang upon his every last syllable. When he asked me to come for him, I couldn’t help but oblige… and my fingernails had dug into his skin, riding out the intense heat between us.
And then he came inside me. It was the most incredible feeling in the world…
“Oh fuck,” I thought aloud.
I came to an actual stop on the sidewalk and considered the implications. What if he had been lying? I thought to myself. He told me that he was clean, and that he’d had a vasectomy… I had completely believed him without question.
What the fuck, Riley?
So maybe I wasn’t the first girl who made a mistake like that… I was better than this! I’d just cross my fingers and get myself tested. How did I let this happen?
I continued strolling back towards my apartment. After twenty more minutes of walking, I was ascending the stairs up to my humble abode and clicking the key through the keyhole.
It was time to see if my little taste of England had worked for my creative side… For the rest of the day, I decided to try painting. I needed something special if I wanted any chance of earning the attention from the one woman in the world who’s opinion really mattered…
Gloria Van Lark.
Van Lark was a legend in the museum world. As the head curator for the Spinnoc museum in San Diego, she was known for her tall, hawkish appearance and her fiercely volatile temper.
This was a woman who was not to be trifled with, and who took her time very seriously. Just obtaining enough of her attention for an audience got you accepted into a number of distinguished museums around the country.
Then, there was the significant hurdle of actually impressing her.
Gloria Van Lark didn’t care for resumes and histories. The fact that I had been gifted with an artistic scholarship to Finland, allowing me to take a full year to pursue an isolated artist’s retreat, would mean precisely nothing to her.
Neither would the gamut of smaller museums that already carried some of my work, or the fact that I’d been fully supporting myself through my painting since I was a young teenager.
All that Van Lark cared about was the final product. After all, that was all that her clients and customers would see. It was probable that none of them would know these pieces of trivia about me, not unless I wound up with an exhibit, somehow…
But that was wishful thinking too high for even my lofty dreams. Exhibits were mostly reserved for dead artists… And I was still very much alive.
I found it hard to concentrate on the painting with my thoughts wrapped up in my irritation with Lex, and my fears that Gloria would never consider my work…
After blowing the entire day trying to focus on three different paintings — a beach at sunset, a forested mountain at night, and a small child crying – I eventually gave up on the prospect. Instead, I tossed my pallet down in frustration, washed my brushes, and kicked it back onto the couch.
It was starting to get late in the day. I realized that I hadn’t eaten anything, and I thought about seeing if Reiko or Connor wanted to grab a bite to eat.
I vetoed Connor immediately, on account of how standoffish and jealous he’d been about the Englishman at the bar. It had been clear from the start that he was passive-aggressively furious about the perceived competition.
I really didn’t like that.
As for Reiko… I remembered that she was closing the sandwich shop tonight and working late on some payroll issues. She’d had to fire her assistant manager for trying to steal money, and that meant going through the finances and double-checking everything, just to be sure.
Oh yeah… she’d be doing that all night.
I made myself a quick sandwich to tie myself over, flicked on the Netflix, and then watched a few episodes of one of the millions of shows I was way behind on. By the time I was about done with that, it was getting pretty late, and I needed to decide whether to cook, order delivery, or venture out and grab a bite.
I decided on the latter.
Halfway towards the local Lebanese place, I felt drawn back towards the bar. I tried to ignore the sensation, knowing what was probably waiting for me there, but as I sat down and unwrapped my chicken shawarma dinner, the compulsion stood its ground.
That’s why, after I finished my dinner, I decided to say fuck it to myself and mosey over a few blocks. With a little bit of luck, I’d just pop in and out, and then immediately move on with the rest of my life.
I wasn’t that lucky.
As I’d expected, Lex was sitting at the bar in his usual spot. Some woman in a fancy dress was sitting next to him, laughing away and putting her hand on his shoulder.
I almost turned and walked out…
But he shrugged his shoulder free, glancing away. I could tell that he wasn’t particularly enjoying her company, but she wasn’t taking the hint. It was only when he leaned in with a cruel smile on his face and muttered something that she understood, pulling away indignantly.
She slapped him across the cheek, rising up from her chair and storming off.
Well… now or never, I guess.
Before someone else could try their luck, I sat down next to him. He looked honestly surprised, doing a brief double take before finally settling back into facing forward, both hands around his tumbler of liquor.
“What will you have?” He asked.
“Bloody Mary.”
He gave a crisp nod to the bartender, who wandered over our way. A few minutes later, he was dropping off a glass at my fingertips, filled with a delicious concoction of vegetable juices and liquor.
“Thanks,” I nodded towards the bartender in appreciation. He offered a quick smile before stepping away to take another order.
“I’m glad you came,” Lex told me, still facing forward. I could see his fingertips slide further around the glass, constraining it within his grasp.
“Who was that woman from earlier today? The other one of you with the English accent?” I asked suddenly.
“That was Jess.”
“Jess…” I traced the syllable with my lips. “Is she your wife?”
He actually laughed, breaking his composure to cover his eyes with his hand. “Never in a million years,” Lex smiled softly.
“Girlfriend, then?”
“Jess enjoys a good power complex. She only dates the younger folk… expendable idiots who can keep her attention for a brief while, before she inevitably expels them,” he chuckled. “Jess is the best damn friend I’ll ever have, but that’s all that we will ever be.”
“Oh,” I murmured.
It hadn’t occurred to me that she might be anything less than his lover, and I suddenly felt rather silly in the head. It wasn’t a sensation that I enjoyed, although I knew that I deserved it this time.
“So, what is she, then? Old friends? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“She’s sort of my agent.”
“Your agent? What are you, a movie star?”
“I’m not a movie star,” he replied, sipping from his drink. “I play football.”
“Football? In England?”
“It’s not your football,” he mentioned offhandedly. “You’d call it soccer. But to the rest of the world, what I play is called football.”
“I see,” I replied.
“You sound disappointed,” Lex observed.
“You’re one of those meathead sports players,” I told him. “I could never stand athletes. They’re always just so full of themselves. Always thinking they need to domina
te everything around themselves.”
Lex thought on that for a moment, but he didn’t respond, which I found rather telling.
“So, what are you doing in America, then?” I asked, surprised that I even really cared. “You’re a long way from England.”
“Just passing through.”
“I think you mentioned that before,” I recalled. “And you brought your agent? On a quick jaunt through New Orleans?”
“She can never turn down a good trip. Always loves to get out of England as often as she can. She has to stay close to me, especially when I’m playing internationally.”
He suddenly looked disappointed with himself, as if he’d fumbled and revealed some major detail to me.
“You play other countries?”
“Sometimes,” he responded coolly.
“Well, you must be a big deal, then.”
Lex smiled wistfully. “Nah… just a guy.”
We sat in silence for a moment, sipping from our drinks while we thought on things.