12 Months Ago
Ooof..Oh God! Oh I'm so sorry!
Phone slipping from my fingertips as my hands lay flat against the broad solid chest of the stranger in front of me. Flushing with embarrassment I think this is just typical me. I need to stop walking and texting at the same time. Still staring at the buttons on the perfectly fitted shirt in front of my face I am mortified and stammering out my apology.
The laugh that rumbles in his masculine chest force my gaze upwards to meet steel blue eyes. Like the most violent storm, Intense and wild, and immediately I feel a shock run between my legs. Only then do I notice his hands, big as side plates, on my waist. His fingers wrapping practically the whole way around me, stopping me from falling back. It's a moment before I register he has spoken.
Not at all, I'm sure I am to blame. Are y...
Pausing when my eyes meet his and his mouth drops open slightly, and I wonder if I imagine the slight darkening of his eyes,
I'm sorry.
He continues after a moment. Shaking his head. A Wavy lock of black hair falling over his forehead
Are you okay?
It could only have been a moment. A stolen moment with a stranger on the Victoria line platform of the London underground. Just a moment but it changed my life.
After collecting my phone and inspecting the now cracked screen I turn towards the open door of the waiting train. My stranger follows me onto the train and we are both quiet. An awkward silence falling around us. A subtle glance to the side where he stood revealed curious eyes looking back at me. We both quickly glance away, and after a second we both laugh. The awkwardness lifting with the humour.
I feel him turn to face me before he speaks.
My name's Rick
he says holding his hand out.
Emily...
I return with a shy smile and taking his hand.
Nice to meet you.
God his hand is big. And rough. My breath catches and I am stunned by the hunger flowing through my body and out between my legs as I stare into his eyes.
Likewise. Where are you headed Emily?
Just Home. Close to Tottenham court.
That's one stop before mine tonight. I'm sorry about your phone. Let me buy you a drink... it's the least I can do.
Images flash through my mind as I consider his offer. My empty and lonely apartment with dread. An imagining of his lips on mine with excitement. Those hands on bare skin. I really should decline. I do have to work in the morning and it is already late in the evening. My heart rate has not slowed since my hands touched his chest. He is temptation, trouble. Something about him tells me he would be something to me, and I am already loathe to walk away. My gaze slips from his handsome face to his left hand rapped around the pole holding him steady. Staring at the classic gold band glinting on his ring finger.
Noticing the direction of my gaze Rick slips his hand from the pole and puts it into his pocket.
Just a coffee, to apologize for my clumsiness.
He says softly, catching my gaze again.
I realize later that he was saying it more to himself than to me.
The decision is made for me by the announcement that my stop is next. I hadn't even noticed the other stops, the commuters hopping on and off at each one. It seemed like only a moment since we got on the train and as if we had been alone the entire time. With only a second to decide caution is thrown to the wind and I hear my voice softly say
Okay.
Today
That first day plays on a constant loop in my mind. The electricity between us a palpable tangible thing in the air. I had no idea who he was. Being only newly arrived in London from New York, I hadn't yet mastered the who's who. A professional failing on my part, given that I am in PR for a firm that caters to that exact demographic.
It was a week and a half later that I learned who my mysterious stranger was. I only learned because I saw him on the television. My mind and body frozen as the respectable man on the television jarred with the wild and ravenous beast that broke a sink in the bathroom of a small dimly lit bar while he fucked me on it the first night we met.
I still had bruises on my legs from where his fingers dug into me, a little more with each thrust, while I watched him lead his beautiful accomplished wife from the stage of the charity event after his speech.
I texted him then, the showing was live and I watched him in the bottom right of the screen as he checked his phone and quickly buried it.
He's ended it with me three times already. It never sticks. He needs this as much as I do. He wants the proverbial forbidden fruit. The woman he can't have but can't do without either. The temptation and giving in to it.
That's why I am here tonight. Sitting alone and anonymous in the centre seat of this glamourous gilded hotel bar, wearing a designer dress like it was made for only me, with my back to the room where an event for that same charity is taking place. Sir Rick Jackson the guest of honor. Decorated Military man, up and coming politician, millionaire, philanthropist, lawyer, Perfect husband and doting father.
I had done my research. So I didn't need the glowing introduction to know all of this. I probably knew more about him than anyone in this room, including his wife. I felt it the moment he entered and then again the moment he saw me. First the change in the air and second the touch of his eyes as physical as if he had slid his finger down the centre of my open back.
My phone buzzes but I ignore it. I need him riled up. Angry. I need him at his most desperate and wild. Know from experience that Ignoring him does that. Without a care in the world i lazily swirl the contents of my cocktail and take a sip. My entire focus on the delicious burn of his eyes on my skin.
The lighting in the room is muted, turned down to the romantic orange hue of candle light. The darkness and the light, I read an article about the hotels architect and his design for the room. A subtle expression meant to evoque the best and worst of us all. An appropriate venue for tonight. The darkness feels seductive on my skin. Letting the she demon rise to the surface. I tried to fight her, at frst. I didn't want to be
that woman.
The home wrecker. The slut. Evil. I didn't want it. I got past the guilt. The high of him was too strong, too intoxicating. Now I don't fight it. I willingly give her control. She will get us what we want.
My phone buzzes again before he takes the microphone to give his speech. Turning on my bar chair, I watch him. Playing with the edges of my low cut gown. Teasing him as his eyes alternating between locked on me, and anywhere but me. I am only known to him here. To everyone else I am just another face in the crowd. No one.
