“Yeah, well…” Stenton brushed the back of his head. “…we’ve shared a lot of embarrassing stories and moments over the years.”
“That is true.” I muttered. “That is very true.”
There was a tentative pause.
“Well, I’m tired as hell. I’mma get outta here. I have another long day tomorrow.”
“You know… You can always stay here. There is room for you.”
Geeze! Why did I say that? He may have thought my intent was not pure. My intent isn’t pure with what my body is calling for now! If Stent was to try that tactic he’d have me all over him within the blink of an eye. I can’t go back there. He belongs to someone else. I had to get over this hurdle alone.
“Nah. I think I should go. If I fall asleep anywhere besides an oversized king I’ll be cramped and no good for work.”
“Yeah. You’re right.” Or on your back, rammed into me.
‘“‘Night, Zo,” he bade.
It was best for him to leave now. My body yearned for something that was no good for my pining for the return of my heart from Stenton.
More soberly than I was feeling, I responded. “Goodnight, Stent. Thanks for stopping in before leaving.”
Then I recognized that age-old look of adoration in his eyes for me. Yet I understood why it wasn’t accompanied by its usual action. Stenton had another lover. As I watched him saunter out of the living room, I realized our intimate life had expired.
~~~~~~~~~~
“I beg your pardon?” he asked, scanning my body from head to toe as if he was entirely unimpressed.
“I don’t believe I stuttered. Do you need it in another language? I can try Chinese…perhaps French,” I returned, desperate to not let him see the silent quivering of my frame as I stood in front of his massive dark oak desk that was just as grand and intimidating as the rest of the motif in his New York City office—heck, his building.
“Elizabeth, I’d prefer your attempt at coercion in English; this way I can better regurgitate it in a court of law.”
He wouldn’t move, remained steeled in that very position. I’d practiced this, my argument and poker face all night. I wouldn’t leave here until he gave me what I wanted. What I needed.
Suddenly he sat up, apparently struck with a thought. “My god,” he murmured. “You’re serious.” It wasn’t a question. He exhaled. “Now, I know you’re an extremely bright woman, your accomplishments speak to that. What I don’t understand is why you wouldn’t think of something less involved…less things to do like shop or start a blog, claiming to be a fashion designer, using Stenton’s celebrity to capture clientele. No. That would be beneath you…too menial for someone of your aptitude. You, the interminable intellectual, Ms. Barrett, have to go for the big fish.”
“I could take Bravo network up on their reality show offer and spill all the beans about Stenton’s personal business…what should be kept in-house.” I leaned over his desk, inching closer to his person. “But I’d much rather keep with how we’re a family…an organization and keep things neat in our camp.” I threw right back at him the words he shot at me when I sat in the `conference room of his office, bleeding at the heart from his twisting the knife in my empty chest, thanks to his client, Stenton Rogers.
I wondered how Edward Chesney felt about that reference. I knew he caught it. I could tell by the way his eyes strained, then suddenly relaxed at the recognition. I could also hear the cogs of his mind spinning at the seriousness of my request. And I was serious. I’d put on a professional two-piece suit with modest heels and carried a briefcase. I was to be taken seriously by one Edward Chesney. I was desperate to.
“Son of a bitch,” he whispered, clearly jarred.
“I’d prefer to be the daughter of one, but I’ll take whichever works for you, so long as you take my requests seriously.” I cocked my head to the side.