Page 2 of Long for Me
Basically, his smile turned me into someone with only baser, animalistic instincts.
Just one more reason to hate the man. He was sexier than any man I’d ever seen. Not only could I never have him because he was my boss, there was also the realization he’d never find someone like me attractive or good enough for him.
Not that I wanted him to.
“Happy New Year, Rebecca.” He disappeared into his office, closing the door behind him. He returned a few minutes later, suit coat thrown over his forearm, glared at me while he walked by, and didn’t say another word.
Whatever.
I went back to work. Maybe I’d stay later than eight. Not like I had anything better to do. A recent string of pathetically bad dates had left a sour taste in my mouth when it came to men, and there was no way I was going to Luminous.
I couldn’t. I might admire Miranda and Shawn’s marriage, their complete devotion to one another, but there was absolutely no way I was going to step foot into the club, even if Miranda had been assuring me for weeks I wouldn’t see anything too extreme on one of their open house nights. From what she’d said, there was absolutely no full nudity allowed, and all the playrooms were closed. It would be a night to get a glimpse of her life in a different way and spend time with friends.
I loved Miranda. I’d known her for three years, ever since I moved in next door to her. I also loved Shawn, and even though he did crazy, kinky sexy things to Miranda, he was a great guy. Heck, every time it snowed, he was outside, snowplowing not only his own driveway, but also the sidewalk that connected our driveways and then he’d clear mine, as well.
It muddled my senses when I took the time to think about it. I’d grown up in a house where a man had no problems laying his hands on his wife, whenever and however he wanted. Shawn did it to Miranda but she never once cowered in fear like my mother had. Nor did she turn into a bitter, broken and drunken shrew.
It didn’t make sense to me, but whatever. To each their own, it just wasn’t for me.
I worked for two more hours until I reached a decent stopping point in the proposal for the new senior housing community Ashby Enterprises wanted to build on land just a half hour south of Grand Rapids.
The office building was quiet. All the offices were closed for the night and I trudged through the building, not at all looking forward to a new year. By the time I pulled into my garage and shut the door behind me, I’d stopped and picked up two bottles of cheap red wine. I was getting out of my car when my phone buzzed in my hand.
I grinned despite myself. Another text from Miranda. She was relentless.
Just saw you get home. :-) Come on. Come with us. We’ll leave as soon as you’re uncomfortable (if that happens). Shawn and I don’t want you to be alone tonight. Please?
Another text came in while I was still reading.
Pretty please? Shawn even says he’ll make you his famous rack of lamb if you join us.
Damn it. She knew my weaknesses, every single one of them, and Shawn’s culinary skills ranked at the top of them.
Especially his succulent, melt-in-your-mouth, rack of lamb.
I ignored Miranda’s text and dropped my phone into my purse and entered my house. Three years ago, when I’d finally saved enough for a down payment on my first home, I was thrilled. Nothing had been more exciting than signing my name on a thousand different documents and then having a set of keys placed in the palm of my hand. I’d finally made it. I’d been successful. I’d finally gotten out of my crappy neighborhood and out of my crappy apartment and broken free from my crappy upbringing. But as I walked through the small mudroom and kitchen, flipping lights on as I went, I didn’t feel all that successful.
I was alone. Two bottles of wine my only companions for one of the most exciting nights of the year. A night where people set goals and forgot the past. A night when there was nothing but hope and resolutions to be set and hopefully reached. New Year’s Eve was the one night of the year when people resolved to be different, to become better, to be kinder and healthier and more selfless and helpful.
And me? I was still trudging through life, with nothing ever changing, because no matter how hard I tried, I’d never truly been able to move on from the monster I’d grown up with or the fear he’d put in me from a young age. And even after he disappeared, clearing out our bank accounts before he did so, that fear remained.
In truth, there was only way to fight your fear, and that was by facing it.
Before I could second-guess myself or come back to reality, I typed a quick return text to Miranda.
What do I wear?
Yes!She typed back.Whatever you’re most comfortable in. Anything goes at Luminous, remember?
Anything went. Everything went. Despite my reservations, it was hard to ignore when I stumbled into a playroom at Miranda’s one night when I was looking for their bathroom. I hadn’t known anything about their sex life before then, and seeing the mortification on my face had only made Miranda smile. She’d taken the time to explain everything to me, all the devices, the cross in the shape of a giant X that terrified the hell out of me so badly I’d wanted to run away and ignore her forever. And yeah, over the last two years since discovering that room, I’d asked questions. Thousands of them.
But was I ready to see some of it in person, regardless of how tame she assured me the night would be?
Couldn’t back out now.
I dug through my kitchen drawer and took out my corkscrew. I opened the bottle and poured myself a healthy glass, carrying it to my room, already going through my clothing choices in my mind.
What in the hell did someone wear to a sex club?
