prayer and a demand. His eyes are closed. I pull back away from him so I can remember what he looks like later. Dear God, he’s so lovely. He bought me underwear. Lord, have mercy. What in the hell?
His eyes pop open, his lips parted with desire. He has his hands on my hips, and then he’s rubbing all over me, hands sliding over the angora of my sweater, down my sides and to my thighs. His eyes go from my face to my breasts and back again, torn between the two. He settles his hands back lower, and begins to move me over him, grinding my crotch into his. I feel his cock against the seam of my tights, and already I’m wet. He rubs between my legs, through my tights. He rolls two fingers over the bud of my sex, letting me know he’s prepared to please me. I groan involuntarily.
He pulls me closer, licking into my mouth again without stopping. He raises one hand to my left breast, slips it inside my sweater, and finds my nipple with his fingers. He squeezes gently, making a low sound in his throat. Then he pushes that side of my sweater back, pushes my bra cup out of the way, and takes me in his mouth. He sucks, and moans.
Oh. He wants me. I feel it in every way.
And that’s when I have a panic attack.
My heart lurches and I feel my windpipe close. I have to get out of the limo immediately . I pull back away from Lucas, awkwardly trying to extricate myself from his arms. He looks dumbfounded. I’m already having trouble inhaling and I start to wheeze painfully, one hand held to my chest. I feel for the door mechanism and pull it open, almost falling from the limo onto the sidewalk in my haste. I grab my stuff clumsily, aware that my zipcard is attached to the outside of my handbag. Without saying a word, I dash from the limo doors to my building’s entrance, slide the card and buzz myself in.
Within seconds , I’m inside, where I go into full panic mode. I can’t inhale. Once I’m past the vestibule, I drop to the smooth floor near the elevators, unable to help myself. The tiles are cool. I try to relax, willing myself to control my breathing. I lay there, out of sight of the front door, for about fifteen minutes – hoping I can manage my emotions. Eventually, I’m able to sit back up; even to go upstairs. I rise, trembling, and push the lift button to the third floor.
I wonder how long the limo sat there. Not that it matters.
Shit. And people wonder why I don’t date.
Later, after midnight, I check my phone. T here’s one lone text.
SADIE, I’M SO SORRY. I LOST CONTROL. IT WON’T HAPPEN AGAIN. LUCAS
A solitary tear slips down my face. Of course it won’t , I think. I realize the bag with the underwear is still on the limo’s bench seat. It will fit some other girl, I’m sure . The thought makes my chest hurt.
I go to my room, shut the door and pretend I don’t hear Jenny when she gets home. And for the first time in a long time; I cry myself to sleep.
Chapter Eight
“Find My Baby”
Moby, Play
My cell phone chirps early in the morning. It’s an email from Lucas.
Sadie:
I’m coming by Anna’s store today to take you to lunch. Please, be there.
Lucas Sutton,
CEO
Sutton Shield, Art and Property Division
I respond.
Lucas: I’ll be working. Do you want to talk to me about Peter Emery?
Sadie Graves, Designer
Anna Rosenstein LTD, International
I get ready for work and head for the subway line, my coat and scarf making the bitter cold less noticeable. When I enter the train, I feel my phone vibrate.
Sadie: What do you mean by that comment? I was unaware that you knew Peter. How, exactly, do you know him?
Lucas Sutton,
CEO
Sutton Shield, Art and Property Division
Aha. Interesting. I don’t respond immediately. I have to assume that Lucas thinks I have met Peter through his, um, extracurricular contacts. I’m suddenly irritated that he doubts me. Extremely irritated.
I wait until nine-thirty to respond. By then, I see I have a missed call from
His eyes pop open, his lips parted with desire. He has his hands on my hips, and then he’s rubbing all over me, hands sliding over the angora of my sweater, down my sides and to my thighs. His eyes go from my face to my breasts and back again, torn between the two. He settles his hands back lower, and begins to move me over him, grinding my crotch into his. I feel his cock against the seam of my tights, and already I’m wet. He rubs between my legs, through my tights. He rolls two fingers over the bud of my sex, letting me know he’s prepared to please me. I groan involuntarily.
He pulls me closer, licking into my mouth again without stopping. He raises one hand to my left breast, slips it inside my sweater, and finds my nipple with his fingers. He squeezes gently, making a low sound in his throat. Then he pushes that side of my sweater back, pushes my bra cup out of the way, and takes me in his mouth. He sucks, and moans.
Oh. He wants me. I feel it in every way.
And that’s when I have a panic attack.
My heart lurches and I feel my windpipe close. I have to get out of the limo immediately . I pull back away from Lucas, awkwardly trying to extricate myself from his arms. He looks dumbfounded. I’m already having trouble inhaling and I start to wheeze painfully, one hand held to my chest. I feel for the door mechanism and pull it open, almost falling from the limo onto the sidewalk in my haste. I grab my stuff clumsily, aware that my zipcard is attached to the outside of my handbag. Without saying a word, I dash from the limo doors to my building’s entrance, slide the card and buzz myself in.
Within seconds , I’m inside, where I go into full panic mode. I can’t inhale. Once I’m past the vestibule, I drop to the smooth floor near the elevators, unable to help myself. The tiles are cool. I try to relax, willing myself to control my breathing. I lay there, out of sight of the front door, for about fifteen minutes – hoping I can manage my emotions. Eventually, I’m able to sit back up; even to go upstairs. I rise, trembling, and push the lift button to the third floor.
I wonder how long the limo sat there. Not that it matters.
Shit. And people wonder why I don’t date.
Later, after midnight, I check my phone. T here’s one lone text.
SADIE, I’M SO SORRY. I LOST CONTROL. IT WON’T HAPPEN AGAIN. LUCAS
A solitary tear slips down my face. Of course it won’t , I think. I realize the bag with the underwear is still on the limo’s bench seat. It will fit some other girl, I’m sure . The thought makes my chest hurt.
I go to my room, shut the door and pretend I don’t hear Jenny when she gets home. And for the first time in a long time; I cry myself to sleep.
Chapter Eight
“Find My Baby”
Moby, Play
My cell phone chirps early in the morning. It’s an email from Lucas.
Sadie:
I’m coming by Anna’s store today to take you to lunch. Please, be there.
Lucas Sutton,
CEO
Sutton Shield, Art and Property Division
I respond.
Lucas: I’ll be working. Do you want to talk to me about Peter Emery?
Sadie Graves, Designer
Anna Rosenstein LTD, International
I get ready for work and head for the subway line, my coat and scarf making the bitter cold less noticeable. When I enter the train, I feel my phone vibrate.
Sadie: What do you mean by that comment? I was unaware that you knew Peter. How, exactly, do you know him?
Lucas Sutton,
CEO
Sutton Shield, Art and Property Division
Aha. Interesting. I don’t respond immediately. I have to assume that Lucas thinks I have met Peter through his, um, extracurricular contacts. I’m suddenly irritated that he doubts me. Extremely irritated.
I wait until nine-thirty to respond. By then, I see I have a missed call from
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