Page 35 of Forbidden
I just need to stay away from her.
Only, I can’t.
11
STORM
I am still focused on my library duties, my new graphic designs, and clients, but I am loving the sense of change.
The workouts are no major. I am just swimming, and doing daily yoga, really.
Being a nerd is starting to pay off for me, and being a natural curious reclusive type, too. I find that I can do three ninety-minute hobby blocks a day.
Like working out, and Italian, or yoga while listening to pilot lectures.
After, I do dance, fencing classes, or diving.
Then, back at the penthouse, I usually study flying.
I’m spending more money on me, than expected, but the only thing that is really expensive is the flying lessons. The scuba diving at the pool complex is oddly not too costly, and I’m meeting plenty of new people.
I’m also feeling more confident about myself, for once.
As Lorenzo travels for work, I get more time for my hobby’s, too.
I miss him, but I am getting less turned on around the apartment, and less distracted. Especially when he walks around in gym gear, or a perfectly tailored navy suit.
Lorenzo and I talk about progress every few days, and even if he seems to think I’m going overboard, when I’m in, I’m all in.
I am going to crush it, and I am going to claim my man. Men!
As I go to climb out of the bath and dry off for the scheduled Zoom with Lorenzo, I have trouble moving. I decide I’ll just lay in the bath, and why the heck not?
I set up the French styled wooden tray for the towels across the bath top, and near my knees, I reach over and set my phone’s camera up.
My breasts are covered with enough foam, and my wet hair looks workable on camera. I try to look a little hotter, then I check the time and hit Zoom.
Seconds later Lorenzo’s face pops up. “Storm.”
Lorenzo is taking his black tie off, and he realizes I’m in the bath. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Don’t be weird,” I huff. “It’s not sexy, you old grump.”
“Hmmm.”
“What does that mean?” I ask. “You know I’m not sexy, so what’s the issue?”
There is no answer, as he pours himself a whiskey. I watch him closely, and I recognize his usual hotel in Paris.
“You know, I think you’re sexually challenged,” I say. “And you can’t handle a real woman.”
Lorenzo laughs, and he shakes his head. I join in, and it’s fun.
I love it when we’re stupid, and it’s just us in the world.
“You really are a crazy nerd.”
“And proud,” I beam.
