Her expression was calm as she spoke. “No you’re not, Alex. You certainly are not.”
…
That night I climbed into bed and Samantha wrapped her arms around me. The smell of her skin no longer aroused me, my body suddenly rejecting everything that was familiar.
“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to say those things.”
Her hand slid down my abdomen and into my boxers. I wasn’t hard and she had tried to make me, stroking it, doing that thing she always does, but I just wasn’t feeling it.
“I’m tired, Sammy. Not tonight.”
I heard her moan in frustration, rolling onto her side. She fell asleep within minutes while I laid there on my back staring at the ceiling. What the hell was this? Why was I thinking about Charlotte? She was funny and smart. She made me laugh, but for fuck’s sake, the ink was barely dry on my marriage certificate.
It was her eyes. There was something about them that just drew me in and her mouth, oh God that mouth, those perfect pink lips, imagining them wide open as she had them tonight. I felt myself harden. Fuck, this was not good. I turned over to look at my wife, trying to remind myself why I fell in love with her. I had to stop thinking about this for my own sanity.
Next Saturday I would see her again. It’ll be fine, I told myself. It’s just a weird feeling that will wash away in a week. Won’t it?
I woke up in a bewildered state, unable to comprehend the dream or the reality. I took in my surroundings, not quite sure if I was on my head or my ass, in London or in New York, in my bed or some random bar bunny’s. I buried my head into my pillow, trying to erase the memory that tormented me in my sleep.
I had been in New York a week and already I was getting bored. As usual I spent most of my time in meeting lockdown, sometimes not even leaving a boardroom till dark. The office was coming along nicely, however I was unsure of how much time I would be spending here. There was nothing for me here, apart from my sister but even with her I was on thin ice after our lunch at the restaurant.
As I lay in the hotel bed the night before, I tried to remember the last time I did something I enjoyed. I lived and breathed hockey throughout high school and college but couldn’t for the life of me remember when I played last. I never vacationed yet I flew all over the world on business conferences. Even just having a pint or two with friends, that was as rare as rocking horse shit and only then it was when a couple of guys I’d met in London were in the same place at the same time. My family was constantly begging me to come home, spend some time with them, but there was only so much nagging I could take. Lex, when are you going to find someone and settle down? I laughed at the question. As if that would ever happen, plus I didn’t want all that love bullshit. It only ended one way: someone being screwed over and hearts broken, then years spent trying to recover. Who needed that when that time spent could be used on playing the stock market and adding another mil to the company’s portfolio? Yes, admittedly that couldn’t keep you warm at night, but it sure softened the blow.
Occasionally though, I would lie in bed wide awake at night and my mind would wander. What it would be like to have someone lie beside me every night, that body curled up beside mine, the long hair tangled over her body…shutting my eyes, I had forced the image away. Sleep was something I struggled with. I had turned on the lamp and found my sleeping pills, then I drifted off to sleep.
…
“Mr. Edwards.”
The whole table rose and extended their hands. Shaking each one of them in turn, I took a seat at the table and motioned for the waiter to come over. This was one of my final meetings before I finally flew out on Monday morning.
“Can I have a short black, please?”
The waiter scurried away and I turned to face Mr. Klein and the rest of his associates who were waiting to discuss my club, After Dark. This was my second club to open up. By day it was a restaurant named La Cusina but later it transformed into After Dark. Mr. Klein produced our latest figures and we spoke about our budget. The club was bringing in the bacon, so to speak. We were at full capacity every Friday and Saturday night. The paparazzi would swarm the outside as celebrities had made it their new favorite spot. Over
all, I was content with the business venture and knew that it was in the right hands.
As I looked over the budget I was distracted by someone laughing at another table. The laugh sounded almost angelic if not a little familiar. I tried to ignore it as Mr. Klein started speaking about potential improvements to the club which could increase our profit margin, but then I heard it again. I turned my head to the left to see where it was coming from. A girl sat with a guy at a table a few feet away. He must have been telling her a funny story because her head and her shoulders were shaking uncontrollably as she laughed. Geez, this fucker was surely going to get laid tonight. She was sitting with her legs crossed to the side. I eyed her long, lean, tanned legs right down to her shoes. Oh fuck me, Louboutins. If there was one thing I had a fetish over, it was Louboutin pumps. Anytime I saw a chick wearing them I just wanted to bend their pretty little arse over and fuck their brains out. I adjusted my pants slightly under the table knowing all too well meetings and hard-ons do not go hand-in-hand, excuse the pun.
It was almost impossible not to check out the rest of her. She wore a high-wasted grey pencil skirt and white silk blouse that was buttoned down low enough that I could see the curves of her breasts. Her tits looked fabulous, nice and full. What a lucky bastard. Her hair was pinned up and yes of course it was brunette, chocolate brown. Fuck me dead.
“Mr. Edwards?”
Mr. Klein broke me from my daze by producing spreadsheets and placing them before me.
“Sorry, Mr. Klein, you were talking about profit margins?”
She laughed again. I turned to look at the same time she lifted her head. She wore black rimmed glasses, very librarian. Don’t go there again, Edwards. I let out a small breath with the sudden realization at how unprofessional this was of me. Focus. But something pulled me towards her and quickly I allowed myself one last glance. She turned to look my way and our eyes locked. The most beautiful deep chocolate brown eyes met with mine.
My heart stopped.
It was her.
The ghost of my dreams, my fantasies, and most importantly—my memories. The past came flooding back to me like a movie being replayed in my head. I couldn’t believe it was her, seven years later and it was her. I needed to speak to her, to tell her I was sorry. There were so many things I needed to say that I never got a chance to. I was so overcome with mixed emotions that I didn’t know what to do. My palms started sweating, the voices around me drowning in a low and incomprehensible murmur. My eyes felt like they were betraying me, this was my mind playing tricks, but as I focused once again, it was undeniable that everything I saw before me was indeed the woman I once loved… Fuck, who was I kidding, she was the woman I still loved.
She did a double-take and looked panic stricken, her eyes wide and her face flushed. She leaned over to the guy sitting with her then quickly got up from the table. I excused myself and followed her to what I could only assume to be the restroom. Her pace was fast, and I increased my steps to try catch up with her.
“Charlotte, wait.”