I suppose I should be grateful for the fact that Tess wasn’t around when the models showed up at my table like three vengeful Valkyries. After sitting down and helping themselves to the champagne, they asked me how I was doing, and I have to admit, I was so flustered I forgot which narrative I told them about Tess. There were so many different story lines we had told our parents, business associates, and other family members, I couldn’t recollect which one to tell my three ex-girlfriends. Those bitches really put me on the spot.
“How many strikes has the poor girl had, Ross?” Rapunzel asked me. She had come over with her two friends so she could rub it in my face about her new famous boyfriend, and seemed only a little put out when I told her I wished her new boyfriend and her well. “Because that third strike always comes out of the blue, doesn’t it?” She turned to the other girls and waited for them to nod their heads and raise their glasses to salute her truth. “If I didn’t know better, we might think you conjure up a third strike out of thin air because you’re scared of committing to someone.”
The other two girls nodded and then began to talk as if I wasn’t there. “He’s such a grump. It’s no fun, because once you get to the second strike, you’re too scared to relax and enjoy yourself or be spontaneous oranything!” More nodding from the young women. “I can remember I was too scared to scream whenever I had an orgasm,” Kate says, “because I was worried that he would pull out and say, ‘that’s your third strike, Kate’!” More laughter and agreement. They ignored me deliberately and continued talking about themselves. “And then always with the ‘I need to be alone,’ like he’s some sort of male Diva. How can you ever grow closer to someone if you don’t wake up together in the morning?”
“I got to spend the night once or twice,” Belinda piped up. “But when you open your eyes, he’s not there and it’s awful because I had to text him to tell the security guard downstairs to send the elevator up for me! And I was starving because I didn’t know how to call for breakfast.”
The girls all laughed and clinked their glasses together. I start to worry how long Tess will be with that toxic coke-head frenemy of hers, and give a sigh of relief when I see her coming back. As soon as introductions have been made, I make our excuses and try to leave. They turn that into an opportunity for ridicule as well. Tess gives them a smile and a wave goodbye, class act to the end.
The ride back home is something else. I’m out of my depth, so I decide to take my cue from her and pretend it didn’t happen. I can’t ask her about Sarah Blakely because I don’t want to seem nosey.
“Was that weird back there?” I need to know. “I mean my situation, not yours, although it was strange to bump into your friend too.”
Tess seems absorbed in her thoughts. “Mmm,” is all she ventures to say. Maybe it’s because she’s inhibited by George being in front, but the window is up and it’s never stopped us from chatting before. I try to engage her, talking about downtown nightlife and the investment opportunities in leasing out building space for nightclub development, but it doesn’t get a rise out of her beyond a small smile that lets me know at least she’s listening.
The lobby gives me hope, because she walks beside me, allowing me to take her hand, but she’s distracted, her mind is somewhere else. I start to talk the moment the elevator doors close on us.
“None of that can come as a surprise for you back there, Tess. Let’s be honest with one another, because I can’t lie about my past. Is that what upset you?”
The elevator door slides open on my floor. I’m so in the weeds, I pushed the button to my floor without thinking. Like muscle memory—I’m in the elevator with a woman so therefore I must push the button for my floor. Suddenly, I’m ashamed. All this time I thought I was a playboy billionaire, but I was just going through the motions of getting my own way, making it so someone fit into my life in such a way that I’m protected from any inconvenience.
Treating women like flavors of the week. And Tess knows this, I can feel it, and it’s given her a disgust of me. I step out on my floor, but Tess stays inside. She won’t even risk coming in and using the patio spiral staircase to access her floor. She hates me like all the others now. I have no choice but to step back into the elevator. She’s not leaving till we sort this out. The door slides shut, locking us in there.
“Please tell me what’s going on in your head, Tess.” I’m begging now. “Is it about what happened at the nightclub? Or is it something else?”
She sighs, “Roscoe, we have a deal, so don’t stress about it. I knew what I was signing up for. I just don’t feel comfortable being lumped into the same category as those poor women. I could see that under their blasé exteriors they were really hurting, and I wish there was something I could do for them, just like I did for Melissa Makings.”
My heart drops. It’s definitely my heart, not my stomach. Shit.
“We agreed the three strikes rule was not in effect, Tess,” I remind her. “And we woke up together in the same bed on the yacht, so you can’t say what we have is not completely different.”
I move closer to her and try to take hold of her hands, but all she does is take a step backward until the elevator wall stops her. She puts her hands behind her back and leans against the wall. “If you had put aside that stupid three strikes rule ten years ago, Roscoe, you might have a ten-year-old son or daughter by now instead of living what I have been privileged to observe as a very lonely life.”
It was as if she had slapped me. I wish she had because it would hurt less. “I’m not lonely, Tess.” I remind her, “I live an extremely productive life and I don’t need a woman continually by my side to do that.”
She’s not smiling. She’s not taking any pleasure from it when she replies. “Productive. A productive life? If you need any more proof about how empty your existence is outside of your family life, it’s that word, Roscoe. Anyone who cares about you would want you to have ahappylife. For God’s sake, Roscoe, even Mr. Ishida wants you to have a happy life. How hard can it be?”
I step back, too shocked to answer, and lean back against the elevator wall opposite her. All this time I’ve been thinking the ball was on my side of the court, but it’s been on the other side, because Tess has just lobbed the ball back into my face with such force I can hardly breathe.
“I’m…” I try to tell her I’m happy, that I’ve always been happy, but I can’t get the words out. What’s happening? What she said must still be inside my head, needling at wounds I never knew were there. It fucking hurts. I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes shut. I hear her move, and instantly, her arms are around me, hugging me tight. “Roscoe…I’m sorry I was mean. You’re right, you don’t deserve it. You work hard, I understand. Forgive me.”
I open my eyes and watching her face, my pain reflected back to me, undoes me. She really does care. I do the only thing I can think of at the moment. I kiss her. And when she kisses me back, it’s natural and it’s like coming home. My heart leaps back into place, filled with joy. I feel in control again. Tess makes me strong, makes me feel like I can do anything, take on anyone. When she pulls my head down to make my kiss more intense, I taste salt on her lips. When she said those things, it made Tess physically cry, and that, more than anything else, makes me aware of how much my past has the power to hurt her. There are no words to explain how much I love her sweet, forgiving nature. My lucky star was shining bright that evening when I dined at Sergio’s.
“I want you to stay with me so much,” I whisper between kisses. “I’ve never wanted anyone else as much as I want you, Tess. You believe me, don’t you?”
“Mmm,” she sighs, running her hands through my hair as if she wants to reassure herself I’m real and not just some fantasy dream she’s having during the night. “I want you too, Roscoe.”
That’s all I need to hear. This deep conversation rocked me. My foundations. My core. My beliefs. I’m so thankful to her for opening my eyes to what my life was really like before her light came to make me shine bright. Now I want to show Tess how much I treasure her. How important she is to me. I kiss her deeply, looking into her eyes while holding her face. I want her to see how I am affected by what just happened. It’s a deep, tender moment but like everything in our relationship, our lust and love collide, melding together into heat and passion.
While we kiss, I feel her hand slide down to my pants, and my heart leaps when I know she wants me as much as I want her. I’m carried away by what she’s doing to me, completely overwrought and rock hard, ready to seal the deal any way she wants to. I reach between her legs and pull her panty crotch to one side, eager to insert my fingers inside her and feel if she wants me as much as I want her. It reminds me of what happened at the back of the car after our first date, or was that a dream too? With Tess, it’s so hard to separate fantasy from reality because she has owned my mind the whole time since the first time we met. She consumes me.
I use my thumb to rub her clit while I work my fingers inside her. I am so in love with the way her tightness closes around my fingers as I open her to receive me. She moans and leans forward against my chest, her legs nearly buckling because she’s concentrating so hard on what I’m doing to her. “Turn around,” I urge her. “Put your hands against the wall.” She braces herself against the wall with her back to me, and I move my hand around so I can stimulate her from the front. When she hears me pull down my zipper, she turns to look, but only so she can watch me haul my cock out of my pants. “Yes, yes,” she moans softly. “Do it. I want it so bad.”
She braces herself as I slide inside her. I have to bend my knees because of our height difference, supporting myself with one hand against the wall while I rub her pussy from the front with the other hand. Tess pushes back and rocks her peachy ass as I pound into her from behind. The way she rocks against me is beyond-words good. It might look like I’m pile-driving myself into her from behind, but it’s actually Tess who is pushing herself back and forth onto my rampant cock. I’m all for her taking control because I’m about to lose it. The floor shakes slightly as I gasp. “Can I bring you off? I’m so close.”
She takes one hand off the wall and grabs my fingers so she can guide their stroking to her satisfaction. “Come right now. I want to feel you squirt deep inside me. I want you so bad.” She purrs the words like a kitten. The elevator seems to vibrate as we come. She pushes me right deep into her and I close my eyes as I release. This is hands down the best release I’ve ever had. I come down to earth with a jolt when I finish, though, but it’s not because I want it to end.
“Er…good evening, Mr. Bridges, Miss Jolliffe. Mr. Mubarak is waiting to use the elevator.”