11. Alex
Alex
Elizabeth is absolutely stunning in her pink suit.
The rose gold jewelry lies beautifully on the ivory top underneath, complementing the look.
Her red hair is wavy and lying loose on her shoulders, framing her face.
She is promoting a perfectly put-together image.
One that would usually work in her favor.
It’s easy to see how men could fall for her. It would benefit me greatly if I did. Yet, her impeccable style is not enough for me to overlook the fact that our conversation feels rehearsed.
We talk about who we have in common, what we did in school, and what our future plans are. It feels more like I am sitting in an interview for the role of acceptable husband. By the time we get through the appetizers, I am over it all.
“Indulge me,” I say, laying my fork on my plate. “What would you do if there were no expectations of you?” It is the first question that goes against the grain of polite conversation. Asking her something that isn’t surface-level means she will have to dive deeper with me.
“What makes you think I am only doing what I do because it is expected of me?” She throws a surprising answer back, prompting me to take notice.
When she says it, she lifts one brow in question, while tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. The small smirk she gives me is enigmatic and full of all the wit and charm she possesses.
“So you are passionate about being a financial advisor in your family’s company?” Not buying it, I dare her to make her case.
“Actually, yes, I am. I love the life that I live, and this career allows me to do it. I have enough of a trust fund that I could just have a modest life and never work again. But that would be mundane, to have no purpose to get up in the morning, and I am far from average.” She smiles to herself, and in her eyes I can see a spark of excitement.
I nod, taking a sip of my drink in contemplation.
I thought she would justify why she does what she does.
I mean, that is what I would do. I was hoping for something different.
Like, how would she live life if we weren’t in these circumstances?
Maybe I am just upset that she would do this.
Maybe I am judging her by the lens through which I view life.
In reality, I wouldn’t choose this; I don’t want it.
So it is hard for me to understand people who would.
I force a grin, then look at the plate put in front of me. Having suddenly lost my appetite, I mostly move my food around until it is time to call for the check.
“You are a hard man to read,” she says, laying her napkin on her plate.
“What do you want to know?” Despite the uncertainty in my gut, I’m excited for her answer.
“Well, for one, I don’t know if you are enjoying yourself. I also can’t tell what you want in life.”
“I want what everybody wants.” I flick my eyes up to meet hers, holding her stare.
“And what is that?” Her lips pull apart to reveal her stunning smile.
“To be happy.” It is the simple version of a complicated answer. I don’t think she would understand if I told her all that would entail.
She could ask me what would make me happy and move the conversation into something real.
Instead, she just lowers her head in a simple concession and excuses herself to the bathroom.
I pay, and wait for her to return before we move outside.
Standing with her until her car arrives, I wonder if she will want a kiss.
“This was interesting.” She pulls on my suit lapel, drawing me closer to her. Tilting her head up, she signals to me that she is waiting for me to lean in.
Giving in to a hope that we can make this real, I press my lips against hers. As she moves her mouth gently with mine, I find that there is nothing there. Passion, want, yearning, all of it is void.
When we pull apart, relief and disappointment battle with each other to determine how I will feel about this. She seems satisfied, giving my cheek a peck before she turns and climbs into the waiting Mercedes.
I walk back to my office, trying to wrap my head around the fact that I will have to do that two more times before I can gently turn her down. Somehow, my mother will know if I only go out with her once and call it quits. Word will spread, and she will make it her business to find me a wife again.
How can I continue to see her knowing what I know now?
It isn’t just that she doesn’t pull my interest with our conversation.
There is no physical reaction either. Can I consign myself to a relationship without depth or desire just to make other people in my life happy?
The ones who care about me most won’t want that.
Olivia and Carter would root for me to find something that makes me truly satisfied.
But what if that is wrapped up in a person so different from our world?
What if it means giving up everything I have ever known for something outside of the norm?
If I had it my way, I would have never returned from my small home in Gordes, Provence, and continued my days of painting and eating fresh-baked bread and soft cheeses.
If that were the case, though, I never would have met Chanice.
I will never get to see my nephew being raised.
I will lose out on the opportunity to build something for myself.
Maybe there is a medium between these two lives.
A place where I can fulfill my obligations and still have the things I love.
I ponder this thought through the rest of the day until excitement overtakes it.
Tonight I get to give Chanice a new experience, and I am really looking forward to it.
She doesn’t want to be picked up, despite my insistence on the matter, so I am meeting her there.
When I pull up, I see her already standing outside the shop, trying to see through the black curtains that block the windows.
The name of the place is discreet, simply titled Jouets.
It’s clear that you’re not meant to know what is sold here without entering it, leaving her guessing.
“It’s a fine evening for a surprise,” I say, wrapping her in my arms.
Without her even doing anything, the plush feel of her against my body has me getting heated.
Her short jean dress is flush against her form, making all of her curves obvious.
The first two buttons are undone, allowing some cleavage to show.
If I play this right, I will be pressing my face into them very soon.
“I don’t like surprises,” she says while pulling back.
There is a little indent in the middle of her forehead as she frowns. She shifts from foot to foot as she waits for me to tell her what this is.
“Let’s go in, then, and end the suspense.” I knock twice, prompting the one employee to unlock and open the entrance.
She waves us in, vocalizing the fact that the space is all ours for the night. Holding open the door, I wait for Chanice to step through. Her gasp is audible as she takes in the rows of sex toys and lingerie. The lowered lights and velvet walls illuminate a space that screams intimacy.
“What are we doing here?” She turns to look at me, her pouty mouth open just a little. I take her hand and lead her further in.
“We are here to shop.” I point to the first few rows full of the lacey, sheer pieces of underwear for her to look at.
“I don’t think there is anything here that will fit me,” she says, her fingers lingering on the first piece she sees.
“This store is known for being all-inclusive; that means for sizes, kinks, and partner types. It will have plenty for you to choose from.” Therefore, there will be plenty for me to see her in.
Even if I prefer her naked. Nothing seems sexier than someone standing fully unclothed, unabashed and proud. The outfits are more for her. Something to make her feel a little more confident.
She looks at the price tag on one of them, and her eyes bulge as they meet mine.
“I hope this goes without saying, but this whole trip will be on me. Actually, let’s just lay the groundwork here. Anything we do, I will be paying for, and there is no need to protest because I won’t hear it.”
She shakes her head, her hands coming up like she can block the words. It’s clear she intends to argue anyway as she steps towards me with a stern frown on her face.
“I can’t let you do that. I would feel really bad. It won’t be like a treat, it will be like charity.”
“How so?” I ask.
“Well, you know, based on my jobs that I don’t have the money to buy these things for myself, so you are paying for it because I can’t.
That makes it feel like I’m only getting these things because you feel like you need to buy them.
” Crossing her arms, she quirks one hip up as she shuffles her left leg forward.
She looks more put out than I thought she would be at the idea.
I have no right to assume her reasoning behind why she doesn’t want to be given things freely. Still, I have to wonder if it’s just because of the nature of our relationship. If she were my girlfriend, would she be more comfortable with me spending money on her?
“I am not doing this because I feel like I need to. I am doing it because I want to. This night is a gift to me as much as it is to you. So think of it like I am treating myself, and you getting to keep the items is a byproduct of that.”
She doesn’t look convinced. She levels me with a stare that speaks of her hesitation.
“If you are worried about the dynamic, then we can meet up tomorrow and you can buy me a coffee, bagel, or whatever you see fit to do. There are plenty of ways that you can spoil me back, like by letting me see your face as you come undone.” I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her into me.
She looks up, her breath catching at the proximity of my body to hers. Peppering kisses across her jaw, I decide I am going to seduce her into agreeing if logic won’t work.
“I don’t know why I am arguing with you,” she says, relenting.