Perfectly Too Far by Regina Button Page B

some loose swirls of yellow, creating a burst of
contrast. It seemed abrupt, a spark of color from the darkness. She
liked the effect.
    Apparently,
so did Benedict.
    “ That's
coming along nicely,” he said from her left. Shocked, Judith
spun, ocher paint splattering onto the man's stone grey jacket.
    “ Oh
my gosh, Benedict!” Horrified, she reached for a rag, but he
only lifted his hands and chuckled.
    “ Shh,
easy! It's fine,” he stated, studying the stain. “I
didn't mean to scare you, I was just appreciating your work.”
    Her
expression smoothed, though she wasn't entirely convinced she hadn't
just ruined an expensive outfit. Setting the brush down on her
pallet, she offered him a frail smile. “It's fine, sorry, I'm
just a little... tired.”
    Benedict
squinted at her, like he was trying to figure out what she meant. She
didn't like that, him being so curious, so she rubbed at her cheeks
and held back a yawn.
    “ Well,”
he began, “I was going to talk to you about that. You've been
working very hard these past two days, I don't want you burning out
with late nights.”
    The
memory of the night before, the cries of pleasure, the crack of palms
on smooth flesh, it sent a flicker of heat into her belly. I'm
not tired from painting all night, I'm tired because I couldn't sleep
after... In
her mind, she heard Onyx's voice, his promise.
    She
shivered.
    It
had been difficult to relax after everything she had seen behind the
red door. The sheets had been soaked in her sweat this morning.
    Benedict
was still talking, she shook her head, making herself pay attention.
    “ — for
lunch. If that's alright.”
    “ Wait,
what?” She stared, wishing she had heard everything he'd said.
    “ I
mean, if you insist on not eating with me, I'll understand. But
getting away from this wall might do you some good.” His smile
was gentle, his eyes melting like ice.
    He
wants to have lunch... with me?
    “ Um,
sure, I'd like that. When do you want to do this?”
    Laughing,
he reached into his pocket. The watch he pulled forth caught the
light, glittering like a sea of stars. Holy
goodness how expensive is that thing, she
wondered.
    “ I
was thinking now, actually.”
    “ Now?”
she asked.
    “ Ms.
Flight, it's nearly after two, didn't you realize?”
    Judith
hung her head, closing her eyes in defeat. Where
has my mind been all day? It
was a silly thing to ask herself, she knew where it had been. Black
gloves, dark promises.
    “ Alright,”
she declared, putting on a firm grin. “Alright, fine, let's get
lunch. These paint fumes are going to my head.”

    ****

    She
was both surprised, and grateful, when they didn't go very far.
    Sitting
out in the backyard, the pair reclined under a large umbrella to hide
from the angry LA sun. It was beautiful; the sky clean and clear, the
scent of fresh mowed grass.
    Corbin
served them glasses of mojitos, trays of chilled tomato soup and
small finger sandwiches. It made Judith feel exorbitantly fancy.
Though she loved it, she wished she didn't still have paint stains on
her hands.
    Still,
he didn't bother to change his jacket, so what does it matter?
    Benedict
swirled the ice in his glass, mint leaves dancing in a tornado. “So,
you stayed the night here, Corbin tells me.”
    Blinking,
she sipped her own drink, enjoying the sugar on the rim. “He
told you that, did he?” What
else did he tell you? Unless he doesn't know what I did last night,
either. Benedict
didn't go for the leading question, so she relaxed her tense
shoulders and nibbled a sandwich.
    “ How
did you like it?”
    “ What,
staying here?”
    Those
blue eyes peered at her through the shade, making her shift on her
chair. “Yes, I'm hoping you enjoyed yourself. I'm more at ease
when I feel like a real host.”
    Judith
motioned with half a sandwich, indicating the table of food, then the
yard around them. “Well, isn't this being enough of a host?”
    “ For
most people,” he chuckled, closing his eyes as he sipped