Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
JULIETTE
A fter Hudson left, I struggled to get back to sleep, but it just wasn’t forthcoming. In the end, I had a shower, went down to the restaurant to get breakfast, and then returned to my room. Now, I’m here in the room, clueless about what to do next. I’m a total stranger here in Manhattan with nowhere to go. My options are limited, so to kill time, I decided to try on the gown I’ll be wearing later tonight to the dinner. Knowing how important the dinner party is for Hudson; I want to be properly prepared for it. We tried to get to know each other better last night, but that didn’t go well.
Last night, he invited me to his bedroom, and I was close to accepting the invitation. Having to go next door to sleep alone felt sad but not so sad that I was inclined to end up in Hudson’s arms on my first night here. I have no intention of ending up in his arms at all, though. I will not lie and say I haven’t thought of it. What would it feel like to have his lips brush against mine again, this time, making it last longer? Why else did I open the door for him in the sheer nightgown? Am I still trying to show him I am his type, or is there a hunger in me, a deep itching that I long to scratch?
I am playing a dangerous game here. But there are six days to go, and this will be over.
I smile at myself in the mirror, feeling sexy and powerful. The gown, while stopping just a couple of inches above my knees, has a long slit that I know will expose much of my thigh, making it even more inviting.
My phone rings and I answer it. It’s my mother.
“Hey, Ma,” I answer and set the phone to loudspeaker so I can obsess some more over my body.
“Juliette, how are you, love? I thought you were to call me yesterday, but you never did.”
“I’m so sorry Mom. I got busy at work, and it skipped my mind. How are you?” I ask and move closer to the window, taking a look at the top part of the gown, trying to see if I really need a bra. My breasts are perky, and without a bra, they’d sit well in the gown. But then I’ll have my nipples poking the dress. While I have a beguiled intent to torture Hudson, I don’t want to go out there looking like a slut. A bra it is, then.
“I’m fine. How was your first day at work? Jenny says you got a big client, and you aren’t in town.”
“Yes, I’m in Manhattan.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me that?”
“I’m sorry, Ma,” I say.
What about wearing it with no panties?
God, Juliette, get it together.
I move away from the mirror and jump on the bed to focus on the conversation with my mother. I need to get out of this room, see the town and keep Hudson out of my mind.
“How’s the new work then?” my mom asks me.
“Going well, Ma. My boss is a pain in the ass, but I’m not new to dealing with pains in the ass.”
“Stop calling your father that!” she chastises me.
“I’m just saying. He is why I am adept at handling difficult people like Hudson.”
“You know I don’t like your new job. It sounds too much like you’re an escort.”
My mother will lose her mind if she finds out that I’m a pretend fiancée to my boss.
“You don’t like anything I do,” I point out to her.
“I’m your mother. I’m not supposed to. Now, the bakery, it is a much better idea than this.”
“I am doing this to get money for the bakery, Ma.”
“Yes, I know that! That doesn’t mean I have to be okay with it. All I’m saying is that there must be a better way to get the money you need, like a loan.”
I sigh and turn on the bed. My mother and I have this conversation every time and I tell her the same thing every time. “I can’t get a loan, Mom. I don’t have any collateral or credit points to do that. They won’t just give me a loan.”
“I can talk to Benny. He’ll help you know.”
“You know what Benny wants, Ma.”
“And what’s wrong with that? Benny is a good guy. He makes good money and is a good man. He’ll make a good father.”
I sigh and rub my brow with my thumb in disbelief that we are having this conversation again.
“I tried it with Ben once, Ma. It didn’t work out.”
“Because you wouldn’t put in an effort to make it work.”
Benny was a good man, just as my mother said, but he isn’t the man for me. He adores and dotes over me, but the whole time we were together, I felt amiss. He doesn’t spark any passion in me.
Not like Hudson does.
God, no, not Hudson.
Whatever passion Hudson sparks, I must tame and kill it.
“You should call him and talk to him. He’ll support your dreams. You two can get a house at the end of a cul-de-sac and start a family.”
I close my eyes and try to imagine it. Benny and me, with a small house at the end of a cul-de-sac, with two kids, a dog and a happy life. It feels so empty, so strained and forced. It must be what Hudson feels whenever he thinks of a life with Phillipa. That’s why I’m sympathetic to his situation. I know what it’s like to be forced to start a relationship with someone you feel close to nothing for. With Benny, I’m sure there’ll be stability and a sense of comfort in knowing I have someone who will be home, who will support and guide me, but I want more than that out of life. I want zeal and passion. I want to boil with lust and longing. I want to feel pleasure building up from the tip of my finger and filling me up entirely. I want to feel whole.
“Alright,” I tell my mom. “I’ll call Benny when I get back home.”
“Thank you,” she says. I can imagine the smile on her face, feeling confident that things will go better this time between Benny and me. I hear some whispers underneath. “Ma! Is Benny there with you?”
“Yes, I invited him to have breakfast with me.”
“Jesus Christ, Ma. You’ll break the poor boy’s heart with hope.”
“You promised to call him,” my mother reminds me.
“Yes. Not marry him. I’ll call him, we’ll get coffee together and see if anything has changed.”
“What is supposed to change?”
“How I feel about him, Ma. We’ve talked about this before. I don’t like him like that.”
“Give it time. Spend more time with him. See he is a sweet man, and you’ll start to like him like that.”
I know my mother means well when she insists that I go out with Benny. To her, Benny is the ideal man with stability and peace. Maybe stability and peace aren’t what I’m out for. Maybe I need some rousing, a little storm in my teacup.
“I told you I’ll call him. But now, don’t you go giving him any reassurance. We are just getting coffee to see things, nothing more.”
“Okay, okay. I won’t tell him to pick his suit out just yet.”
I shake my head and end the call with my mother, enjoying the feel of the cloth against my skin. I get out of the gown and stand naked before the mirror. I have no idea what Hudson is up to, but I imagine him with the arrangement he’s made in town.
What are they up to now? Does Hudson have his hands all over her? Is he playing with her nipples, running them through his finger? Squeezing her breasts?
I close my eyes and try to imagine them, but I see myself with Hudson instead. He’s naked from the waist up, and my fingers trace his toned muscles. Back in the room, my hand finds my breast and I fondle them. An unexpected flood of pleasure rushes through me and I can’t help the moan that escapes my lips. Biting down on my lips to keep the moans at bay, I push my imagination further. Hudson kisses down my stomach and towards my sex. As I imagine that, my hand makes the same journey in real life so that as the Hudson in my head slides his tongue over my slit, I slide my index finger in, welcomed by sleek wetness and a immense desire for the actual Hudson’s touch.
I open my eyes and know I cannot remain here with nothing to do. I’ll lose my fucking mind. I’m already well on the way. I need some distractions. I need to get Hudson out of my head. I know that fantasy of mine will never be experienced, so I better shelf it as fast as possible.
I’ll do some sightseeing and see what Manhattan has to offer. It’s a big city, big enough for me to lose myself in and every thought of Hudson I have.