Page 41 of Omega Artist
Fuck. Fuckity. Fuck. Fuck. How am I screwing this up again?
“Look, I’ve gotta go. Just meet me after work, okay? I’ll tell you more then.” My voice sounds more excited than I am.
“What? You’re going to hang up on me now? On his art? On your date? On your night?”
“No, no, no, you need to get back to promoting your fashion designers.” She grumbles her usual complaint when I intentionally confuse PR and marketing. “Plus, I’m in a bit of a rush is all.” I pause for effect, because I’m a tease. “To be honest, there’s a guy waiting for me in my wonderful Brooklyn hotel room with a view.” Its perfect location and accommodations convinced me to extend my stay beyond Sunday night.
“Tig?”
“Nope. His name’s Eric and I can’t make him wait for too long now, can I?”
“Who’s Eric?”
I stop, knowing that I’ve thrown her off my trail. “Cross the Brooklyn Bridge, and call me when you get here. Hopefully the downpour will have subsided by then. If so, shopping; if not, a movie on demand while I fill you in on the rest.”
“What about Eric? Are you offering a threesome? Because that’s way more appealing than the fashion show that I’m putting together.”
“Hold on, I’m stepping into an elevator. I’ll be back in a sec.” The screen of my phone lands on my belly to muffle her voice, just in case. Thankfully for me, she behaves and I’m out of the secluded space before I get claustrophobic.
Striding down the hallway, I ask, “You still there?” She hums in frustration. “Now… no threesome because I don’t wanna see you naked, and I intend to use up all of Eric’s stamina before he has to catch his next flight.” There’s no use in informing her that the hot flight attendant surprised me by texting me about his layover yesterday. There’s no use in informing her that the sated Eric is peacefully recovering, unaware of the fact that I ordered room service for him. There’s no use in informing her that I had a taste of his resourcefulness when I found a folded piece of paper with his digits in my jacket pocket after going through customs a couple of weeks ago… We got together for drinks during his brief layover following my arrival. As it happened, we both wanted more than was on the bar menu. As it happened, we both were on the same page. As it happened, we both enjoyed each other’s company.
Who would have thought that Tig’s proximity would have heightened my sex drive to the point where Eric’s return couldn’t have had better timing? Eric and I reconnected over dinner last night, which led to him naked in my bed a couple of hours later. Even better than the mile-high club. I wasn’t foolish enough to ignore the potential fun. I wasn’t foolish enough to deny him. I wasn’t foolish enough to call his bluff. It’s only fair that I buy him breakfast.
Before pressing my card to the sensor on the door, I conclude, “As for my favorite tattoo artist, he didn’t even make a pass at me after our lovely, non-date of a dinner. I can’t deny that I was both impressed and disappointed when he hugged me goodnight after making sure that I found my Uber driver. He doesn’t know that I booked a last-minute hotel room here because I was too lazy to go all the way back to Central Park West... It wasn’t my brightest move, since I don’t have spare clothes with me, but I managed. So, 7 p.m. See you then.”
Then I hang up on her and push the door open. From the threshold, I glance at Eric, who’s slowly waking up, flashing me his sexy-as-fuck blissed-out smile. I put my phone on the nearby desk and come back to revel in the view of this man.
“Hello, gorgeous.” He stretches his arms over his head, touching the headboard in a spot where my hands were splayed last night.
This sudden visual intensifies my appetite for sex. Again. I wave at him, licking my lips in the raunchiest way I can muster. “Good morning, Eric.” His smile grows wider. “I didn’t want to wake you and just had breakfast downstairs. I wasn’t planning to set you free just yet, so I ordered room service for you. My treat. Complete breakfast with bacon on the side, if that’s okay. Should be here any minute now.” He nods, thankful. “It came with bacon or sausage, but I figured that I’d be the only one to come with the latter.” I wiggle my eyebrows in a vaguely suggestive manner. I’m being silly with this guy and it’s refreshing. We laugh in unison.
“You are a man’s wet dream, Aliénor. You’re funny, you’re witty, you’re hot-as-hell, you love sex, you hate strings attached, except under certain sexy circumstances… and you feed me to boot.”
He also praised how bossy I was when horny. He also proved how loud he could be when stimulated properly. He also commented how polite we remained nonetheless, with pleases and thank yous inserted between expletives.
“Nah, I’m not perfect, just selfish. Breakfast is to refuel your stamina before we unabashedly screw countless times today… unless you’ve got somewhere else to be?”
“Nope, I’m right where I need to be today.” He swiftly bursts out of bed in his glorious erect nakedness and strolls to the bathroom—to get a bathrobe, I suppose.
I follow suit, brushing my teeth as he puts on the aforementioned piece of clothing, forgetting to close it so I have an enticing view. We’re both consenting adults, and we’re on the same page. Who needs a useless friendship when you get all the exclusive benefits, right? “You’re not too bad yourself.” My fingers slide inside the robe’s loose sleeves and graze his smooth skin.
“Why, thank you.” He catches my wrist and pulls me into his massive frame for a kiss.
When I unmold my lips from his, I feel the need to explain, in all seriousness, “For now though, I’m working on building a fairytale on my own terms, and having fun seeing if the shoe fits.” I’ll have to thank my former nanny, Catherine, who helped me concoct my own version of the perfect man as a child, night after night, from the fairytales that she read to me. “To this day, I can’t understand why people find it acceptable that Cinderella’s prince, whatever his name is, keeps having girls try on the shoe. I, too, claim the right to try on as many… shoes… as I see fit, until I find the right pair of Louboutins. I don’t need a man to be complete.”
He remains in front of me, with his bathrobe open, hiding nothing of his morning wood. “I see you have expensive taste and specific requirements… I enjoy demanding women, and for what it’s worth, I’m savoring my time with you.” I thank him and return the compliment without trying to turn this into something it isn’t. “Just be careful not to over fabricate your own fairytale to a point no actual prince or regular Joe can fit in.”
“Mmm…what do you mean?” I twist the belt of his robe.
“Clearly, you don’t need a man to be complete; all I’m saying is that independence has its price and, as much as I agree with you, my advice would be to make sure you don’t shut people out… And for the record, I don’t mean me. Like I said, I’m perfectly happy to enjoy this moment with you.”
We grind against each other. He’s half-naked. I’m fully clothed. We’re truly content. He kisses my forehead, closes the robe when he hears a knock on the door, and chats with the woman while I finally brush my teeth. In silence, I listen to him settle down in the living room area with his tray of food.
“I’m just gonna take a quick shower,” I inform him, opening the bathroom door a little wider. “Enjoy your breakfast, then let’s get down to business.” I blow him an exaggerated air kiss and close the door.
“You got it!”
The scent of the body wash infiltrates the shower, and I get lost inside my overthinking head. Suddenly, my hand ventures south with flashbacks of last night assaulting my vision. Only they’re not of Eric and me. I freeze, diverting my adventurous fingers from their original destination and turning my face towards the warm spray. I can’t be daydreaming about a man without morals. Or daydreaming at all about a man whose skin is covered in ink. Shutting my eyes tighter, I welcome the steaming water that runs down my face and washes away Tig’s happy smile. Tig’s gorgeous ass. Tig’s mixed signals. Why am I getting horny at the mere thought of this tattooed player when I have hot and easy-going Eric waiting for me?
