Dwelling In Desire Ch 11

Notes from the author:

Well loves, you got your chapter early. I turned this around in less than a week, and will probably need a month to recharge. But who fucking knows at this point? I look forward to your feedback. ;)

--J

***************

Chapter 11

It had been a month. And nothing.

No calls. No texts. No emails. And whenever I managed to catch her stopping by on the security feed, she was in and out before I could convince myself to race home.

Work had been interesting—meetings with all of our clients, reviewing the status of their cases, and connecting each of them with other similarly qualified firms to take over their case. This also meant calling, qualifying, and meeting with said firms to review our primary data on a given case, before signing the client over for a fee.

It had kept me busy to be sure. But at night, when I went home to my empty barren castle and my cold empty bed, I felt...pain. Despair. Anger.

The bottle became more and more tempting. I found myself looking at it every night, instead of just once in a while.

It had gotten to the point where I was nervous. Jittery. Compelled to finally trash the fucking thing. To stop playing games with myself, now that I felt I was about to lose.

I needed...something. Someone. Anyone.

Tina.

I grabbed my phone and texted her.

Hey, you wanna come over? Or I could meet you at the club?

Normally, it was seconds before she would respond.

Silence.

Minutes passed, and I gripped the edge of the kitchen counter, shifting my weight back and forth, just waiting. I felt now like I'd felt during detox. There was this painful sensation eating away at my gut. It wasn't quite as extreme, but eerily similar.

Finally, my phone dinged.

Hey Curt. I would but I'm seeing someone. We met about a month ago and he doesn't want me seeing anyone else. Are you ok?

Wow. Tina had found someone. I don't know why I was so shocked. She just had never seemed interested in...committing. To anyone. Or maybe it was just to me.

That's awesome Tina. I'm thrilled for you. Take care and let me know if I need to kick someone's ass at any point ok?

LOL Thanks Curt. Love you...

She loved me. I loved her. But not in the way I needed to love someone. Like I needed to love Bethany.

I clenched my sweaty fists, and rationalized irrationally.

Tomorrow is Saturday. I don't need to be around anyone until Monday morning. I can definitely be sober by then. I'll just drink tonight, and maybe a little tomorrow, and then detox on Sunday.

I hated the feeling of guilt that rushed through me. I was a fucking adult. I could drink responsibly. Nothing was wrong with drinking responsibly.

When have you ever drunk responsibly though? When?

Fuck it. Just fuck it.

I felt like I was wading through a river as I strode to the wine cellar. There was something holding me back, but something even more determined pushing me forward.

Feeling like I'd just walked a mile, I gripped the bottle and made my way back to the kitchen for a glass.

My hands shook as I unscrewed the cap. They shook as I poured the amber liquid, smelled it as it pierced the air.

>Ding<

Fuck.

I very nearly ignored the text. What more could there possibly be to say?

But I looked.

Hi Curt. Good news! The furniture is ready for delivery as well as the cabinets. I'm planning deliveries on Wednesday Thursday and Friday of this coming week. You don't need to be there. I will handle everything. Just a heads up that we are nearing the finish line. :) Bethany

My shocked reaction to her text morphed into a wry smile when I saw that she had signed her name "Bethany".

And I now knew that she signed her name that way only for me. She could have signed it as Beth, kept things casual, normal. Non sexual. But she didn't.

It was a tiny fucking straw, but I grasped at it.

Quickly, before I could change my mind, I poured it all down the sink.

It was hard as fuck, but liberating. Thrilling. And terrifying. It felt as if my only lifeline was gone.

What now? For fuck's sake what now?

I picked up my phone again to reply.

Thank you Bethany. I look forward to seeing the fruits of your labor.

It was a dry response at best, but I hardened at the thought of her blush as she read my text.

Wednesday. She would be here Wednesday. And Thursday. And Friday.

I knew I had a busy workweek ahead, but I was definitely going to aim to finish early on one if not all of those days. I had to see her. Even if I hadn't the foggiest idea of what I would say.

Shoving the bourbon glass into the dishwasher, I grabbed a fresh one and filled it with water. I had to consume something, and it may as well have been water.

Maybe I'd have a shower. A nice long shower.

But not too long.

---

I paled as I hung up the phone. Not only had all the furniture arrived early, but the cabinets had been ready for a couple weeks now. Rick wanted to install on Thursday and Friday, and I no longer had reason to postpone.

As in love as I'd been with the house every time I went, as invigorating as it was to envision what the vast empty estate would soon become, I now felt myself faltering.

There was so much to do. For once, I felt doubt. In myself. In whether I could do this as quickly and seamlessly as I needed to. There was the looming threat of seeing him. Being forced to look him in the eye, and fully acknowledge what I had done. What I had said.

What I had said...

Well I still wasn't quite sure

what

I had said, but I knew that it had been way,

way

too much.

Curt had done the decent thing and walked away, despite my drunken state. He could so easily have done anything he wanted to me, and I would totally have loved it.

But he was an adult. Responsible. Mature.

And I was a girl. Silly, and naïve.

But then there had been that moment, I thought, when he had been on top of me on the bed. I knew I hadn't dreamt that look on his face.

That look

was the only thing that was firmly engrained in my memory.

The look of thick, unbridled,

desire

.

True, I had been an ass. But he'd still had that look. For whatever reason.

I shook myself free of the erotic imagery, cursing the now erect nipples poking through my shirt. Again.

Just get it done Beth, and you'll be home free.

---

Wednesday

Okay, I'm forgetting something. What is it?

My car was packed to the freaking brim with lamps, pillows, throws, bedding, faux greenery, and just about every type of knick-knack known to man. It wasn't nearly enough to fill Curt's house, but it was a start. Day one was about to commence.

So what was I forgetting? Bottled water? Check. Dust cloths? Check.

I really should have made a list. But I hadn't graduated with honors in organization. Clients commented all the time on how "organized" I was, but I never felt it. I always felt like I was scrambling. Barely keeping things together. Especially now.

I was sweating from nerves. And dampening more by the minute from the mental image of Curt with

that look

on his face. I grimaced as I had an epiphany.

A change of panties.

Shoot. What kind of slut was I that a change of panties was in order for my work day?

No, don't think that way Beth. You have a long day of physical labor ahead of you. It's only natural that you should...sweat, or whatever. It's normal. It does not make you a slut.

With an exasperated sigh, I stalked back into the house to grab an extra set of panties. Just in case I started to get...embarrassingly wet. Which I knew from experience was a distinct possibility when I was in Curt's house.

Certain that I had now thought it to death, I shoved my panties into the bottom of my tote and piled into my Jetta. I really needed an SUV. But where the heck was that money supposed to materialize from?

I supposed I could do a trade-in deal, or a lease, or something. Maybe I could talk to Kate about that. Or Joe, possibly. He probably had some connections, or at least advice to share on that.

I knew who I

couldn't

ask. Who I couldn't discuss anything remotely non-business related with.

Relax Beth.

Saving that internal debate for another day, I turned on my favorite station and pulled out of the drive.

---

"Okay guys, the bed needs to shift a few inches left. An inch more. A hair more...okay. That works," I nodded.

The day had been an endless stream of this.

Pointing. Lifting. Moving. Giving orders. Taking orders. Running out. Running in. It was what I had grown accustomed to, but on a much larger scale.

I'd decided just last week that the walls needed a bit more color, and had called in my painter, who luckily was able to fit me in today after a cancellation.

One room being painted was the master bedroom. And while I hadn't planned on decorating the upstairs guest room until tomorrow, I knew that Curt would probably be more comfortable there until the paint dried in the master.

Luckily, the furniture I'd ordered for the guest room had arrived today, and I could easily pull it together for his use tonight. It required that I wash the new sheets, which was easy enough since Curt had not one but

two

washers and dryers, both of which were vacant. I thought of texting him to ask if it was okay, but chickened out. The less interaction with him the better.

Just get it done Beth. He is trusting you to get things done.

Between tasks downstairs, I would run back up and work on the guest room, ensuring it was comfortable enough for one or two nights' use.

As I bounded up and down the stairs, I marveled at how I had energy for anything else. I reminded myself and the workers every so often to stay hydrated. It was important to keep our energy up and our minds alert, or we'd lose momentum.

"We" for today consisted of myself, my backup handyman Jose, and my painter Henry and his assistants. They were usually pretty fast workers, and very competitive price-wise.

At noon I brought in sandwiches for everyone. Providing lunch made a distinct difference in the quality of work I'd come to find, and kept me on an A-list of sorts with my contractors. It was a small price to pay, even if it had an embarrassingly noticeable impact on my bank account.

Don't worry Beth. Soon you'll be rolling in the dough, and laugh at the memory of struggling to pay for sandwiches. Just keep moving forward.

The downstairs was quite an undertaking, and as three o'clock approached, I wondered if I would be able to complete everything I'd planned for today. Outlook was not good. But I kept going.

I

had

to leave by five. Curt would likely be home around five thirty or six, and I couldn't risk seeing him. I couldn't take the humiliation any sooner than absolutely necessary.

Jose and the painters had left, and now it was just me. I hurried through the areas with fresh paint, opening more windows to ventilate the house and clear out the excess fumes. Maybe the fumes were to blame for my now splitting headache.

Get water.

I ran into the kitchen to do just that, and was in the process of leaving a quickly scribbled note for Curt, when I heard the garage door. Oh

shit

.

It was only four thirty and he was home.

Shit

.

Suddenly, I was much more aware of the wetness between my legs. Why hadn't I thought to change my panties earlier this afternoon?

I saw the door handle twist, and braced myself to face him.

---

Dear God. She looked...terrible.

Well, for her, she looked terrible. Her eyes were tired, her hair was mussed, and her shirt was peppered with dust and who knew what else. She was still ravishing by any normal standards in my view, but I saw the look on her face betraying fatigue and stress, and was immediately compelled to fix it.

"Hey Curt," she greeted in a tired voice.

"Bethany," I acknowledged. "You've been working very hard today it looks like."

"Oh yeah," she sighed. "I was just heading out actually. I left you this note, but since you're here I guess I can just give you the run-down. If you have a moment..."

"Absolutely," I nodded.

"So we're nearly finished with the downstairs, and have started on the upstairs. The master bedroom and formal living and dining rooms were painted today, and will need some time to ventilate. I've set up the guest bedroom upstairs for your use until the master is completed."

"Excellent," I smiled. "Can I see?"

"Well things are still under construction more or less, so don't jump too quickly to conclusions."

"I understand," I agreed as I followed her through to the family room, and then the formal living and dining.

She was correct. Things looked unfinished. But I could get a sense of what the end result would be, and it was remarkable.

"I'm impressed Bethany. It looks like it's gonna be amazing. Not that I doubted you for a second," I smiled.

"Well hang onto your hat because I did manage to complete the downstairs guest suite, with the exception of the draperies, which arrive tomorrow. Would you like to see?"

"Show me."

What awaited did indeed knock my socks off. It was a beautiful guest retreat, packed with all the necessities, from robes to slippers, to soap and shampoo, toothbrushes, and even a phone charging station. Literally

everything

one could need for an extended stay.

I smiled warmly as I observed the touches of purple here and there. She had integrated my mom's favorite color subtly and tastefully. Light purple roses on the coffee table, purple in the landscape paintings she'd hung on the walls, purple bath salts and shower gel...

It was perfect. I couldn't wait to have my mom to visit so she could enjoy it.

"I'm stunned Beth. This is incredible," I grinned at her, genuinely impressed.

She blushed her lovely blush that made me want to grab her and bury my face in her neck.

"Thanks," she said softly. "The upstairs guest room is also complete. If you'll follow me."

I followed, eagerly. Following this girl up the stairs was fast becoming one of my favorite things.

As we entered the newly completed guest room, I was again overwhelmed. The colors were rich and earthy, and the bed looked cozy and inviting. The lighting was soft and yet bright at the same time.

"Well Bethany, I must say I'm looking forward to staying in this room tonight."

"I'm glad to hear that," she smiled weakly. "I feel so bad having to kick you out of your room."

"Don't," I insisted. "This is more than enough. I'll just grab some clothes and stuff from the master bedroom and bring them in here. It'll be perfectly functional for the next couple days, or until you finish."

"Yes it should be," she nodded. "I have all the sheets washed, as well as the towels in the hall bath, and the dresser and guest closet are completely vacant. Plus I left some soaps and stuff in the hall bath for you."

"You've thought of everything it seems."

We stood for a few moments in awkward silence. I tried to play it off as observing my new surroundings, admiring her work.

"So," I asked casually, "Did you want to get some dinner or something? You must be famished."

"No," was her immediate and sharp response.

I wasn't at all surprised, but I had hoped she might agree.

"I mean, thank you, but I need to get home," she stuttered, backpedaling in an attempt not to insult me.

"I understand," I held up my hand in assurance. "You must be exhausted."

"Yeah," she nodded with a look of regret in her eyes.

The silence was unrelenting as we passed through the hall and descended the stairs.

"Well, I'll be back tomorrow morning. Draperies arrive first thing, and we begin installation of the cabinets, as well as more furniture deliveries. Another full day."

"Sounds like a plan," I nodded.

This is so fucking depressing.

"So, umm, have a good night. I'll see you later," she muttered, shouldering her bag.

"You as well, and drive safe," I warned as I opened the front door for her.

I watched her as she trudged to her car, clearly exhausted. I didn't like the idea of her driving when she was so tired, but what could I do?

Let it go Donovan. She's a big girl. And a professional. Just let her do her thing, and stay out of the way.

I needed to change out of my work clothes. Beth hadn't said I couldn't go in my bedroom, just that I would probably want to sleep in the guest room due to the paint fumes. It made sense. I just needed to grab some clothes for tonight and tomorrow, and a few other essentials.

I don't know what I'd expected when I walked into the master bedroom, but it wasn't this. It was a dark abyss of gray.

Holy shit

. I felt like I was in a cave.

What in God's name was she thinking? It's a cave!

Just relax Donovan. If she picked this dark-ass color, it must have been for a reason. She knows what she's doing. Relax.

It was hard to. It was a fucking cave. Granted, there was nothing else in it but my old crap, so there was really nothing to look at

but

the gray walls. I just prayed that whatever stuff she put in here made a significant difference in the feel of the room. At this point, I just couldn't see it.

Well whatever. If I hated it, I'd deal with it. There was no question that I would rather keep my mouth shut than hurt Beth's feelings. Or worse, her pride.

I pulled my clothes and morning essentials quickly, and shut the doors behind me.

Re-entering the guest room, I felt like I was in a luxurious high-end hotel. Except it was warm, and homey feeling. Not stark and trendy like most hotel rooms. It was pleasant. Cozy. Welcoming.

It was more than I could have wished for.

Which is why you need to shut up, relax, and let her do her thing.

Chuckling to myself, I changed into my PJ's and went downstairs to get something to eat.

---

Thursday

I'd hit the snooze button for probably the fifth time, and knew I couldn't delay any longer. I couldn't mess up today. I couldn't mess up this week. Not until this darned project was done.

I rolled grudgingly out of bed, and stumbled over to the mirror.

Yup. Bags under the eyes. Fantastic.

Even if I had no intention of seeing Curt today, the possibility was always there, and though I didn't want to encourage his advances, I just couldn't bear the idea of looking like shit in front of him.

He won't be there. Don't worry. You'll wrap it up early, make up for yesterday.

I looked at the clock. Thirty minutes behind. Shit.

Pig buns it is.

Once I'd shrugged into my junky clothes and lazy day hairdo, I grabbed my tote and a granola bar, and dashed for my car.

---

As I pulled into the drive at 7:30am on the dot, it occurred to me that Curt might not have left yet. And because he always parked in the garage, I wouldn't know for sure if he was home unless I called him. Or knocked on the door.

I decided to knock. Better than texting him and opening the lines of communication unnecessarily.

I knocked.

Nothing.

Remember what a huge house this is Beth. Ring the damn bell.

I rang the damn bell.

Nothing.

Whew! He's left for work. Now I can breathe.

With my confidence renewed, I entered with the key Curt had given me.

Dropping my bag on the new console in the entryway, I padded up the stairs to the master bedroom. The new furniture would be arriving today, and Curt's belongings would need to be transferred from his old dresser and nightstands to the new.