Risqué by Elena M. Reyes
17
“We deserve a gold medal after the last few days,” I say, sighing as the warm water of the pedicure bowl pulses with massaging jets. We’re in pamper mode today—activated and unreachable while taking a much-needed break. It’s been a week now since both men left, since my father canceled my trip again—no notice or explanation, just a text telling me to hold off until further notice. It’s also been seven days since all hell broke loose and we got an influx of women that left us scrambling to accommodate and protect, leaving me no time to wonder why the sudden change in plans.
Two of the new residents had a drug addiction, while the other three were running from abusive men that had no qualms about threatening us, but one took it the extra mile. That one didn’t care, charging in with a weapon drawn while trying to intimidate by looking to hurt us or the building his ex was seeking sanctuary inside of.
The visit lasted a few minutes at the most, tense seconds where Aurora pulled out her gun while I doused his face with pepper spray before he could shoot, or worse.
“Bring her out,” the man screams; a tall jerk with twitchy movements and the nauseating scent of garbage all around him. He’s unkempt. His expression is of pure rage while holding an old pistol in his grip. Arm down and shaking, he stormed inside, scaring the two assistants helping with the dietary changes needed for a seven-year-old with a peanut allergy. “Where is my wife?”
“Sir, you need to put your weapon away, or we will be obligated to call the police.” Aurora moves in front of the two shaking women while I gently push them toward the office. We’ve gone over drills withthe staff and those who live here, practice these at least once a month, but when fear kicks in, you can’t predict how a person will react. “Put it away, and we’ll go to my office and speak calmly—”
“Shut the fuck up, bitch. Bring me my wife, or I’ll shoot every single one of you.”
“Last warning,” Aurora says, tone neutral while her hand opens the drawer of the desk right beside her. The man looks down at it, but before he can see her reach for her weapon, I push a high stack of papers onto the ground; it flutters in the space between us and him. It’s just enough of a distraction for Aurora to grab her gun and aim at his chest, while the other women lock the door to her office. “You didn’t listen. This is private property, and I want you out.”
“I’m not leaving without her. I’d rather burn this entire place to the ground.”
“Get out,” I hiss, while Aurora clicks the safety off. The man’s eyes flash with fear, but soon that’s gone. That miniscule second reasserts his careless way of thinking, and it also gives me a chance to pull out the pepper spray I keep on myself, finger ready to dress down.
“No.” He takes a step forward in my direction, but I’m already spraying. I empty the bottle, focusing on his left eye that is partially uncovered through spread fingers, and then step back.
“You whore!” the man screams, stumbling back and falling as the papers cause him to slide. His body crashes hard, the gun slipping out of his hand and ending against the opposite wall. “The fuck is this shit? It burns!”
“That was a warning, sir. Get up, and get out.” No sooner do those words pass through Aurora’s lips than we hear police sirens. They are close. The office is at the front of the compound, not far from the parking lot and main road. The closer they get, the more he panics and scrambles to get up, only to fall once more, hitting his face this time as he’s having a hard time keeping his eyes open. “And we will be pressing charges. See you in court.”
With difficulty, he pushes himself up and stands. He’s facing us, but not really focused. “I’ll be back. This isn’t the end, and my slut of a wife will pay for this.”
After that, he left, body stumbling into the wall beside the door before managing to exit, still screaming, insulting us, and then not a single trace left for the cops to find.
None of our cameras caught sight of him past the front door. He disappeared.
No blood. No body. Nada.
These occurrences aren’t really the norm with us. Most men don’t want cops involved or looking their way and approach the women in a softer manner. Some fall for the fake repentance, some don’t, but we defend ourselves either way. This also makes me think that Aurora’s still being watched.
Or is it me?
Callum gave me his word—that he’d respect my wishes for a few weeks, but did he?
But more importantly, I’m not upset if he hasn’t. The last seven days while stressful, have been pleasant in a way I’m not used to. My father has left me alone since that text, and no more harassing crap from Giannis as I know the truth and our friendship grows. Instead, I’m coming and going with more ease, and I don’t want to go back to the way it was before.
“Amen, chica.” Aurora cranes her neck back and closes her eyes. “I was seconds away from turning to a life of heavy drinking and a full-time hermit career.”
At that I snort, ignoring the vibrations inside of my pants pocket. It’s a little after three in the afternoon and I know it’s Callum, but I don’t want to draw attention to myself. If she hasn’t told me about Casper, then I’m keeping Callum a secret.
Besides, it’s kind of fun. The secret messages and the naughty phone calls. The picture of him shirtless and joggers pushed below mid-thigh while he gripped his cock; a picture now forever inside a private folder locked under a passcode.
“Aye.” It slips out, and my cheeks burn. What the hell? “I hear ya.”
“You a pirate now?” A spa worker comes over with another mimosa on a tray and we each take one, smiling at the girl. When she leaves, my best friend looks over with a raised brow. “Have you been watching Pirates of the Caribbean again? Your obsession with the male actors in those movies is highly—”
“Shut it, and guilty.”
“You look guilty.”
“So do you, bestie.” I waggle my brows. “I’m still waiting for the play by play of lover boy’s trip here. When are you going to spill?”
“I already did.” She rolls her eyes, and I want to flick her forehead. “You know he came, and we spent a few days together. We went out on dates, ate, and there was plenty of the good stuff I’m not sharing about.”
“How can I live vicariously through you if you deny me the juicy details?”
“How about you tell me about Giannis instead? Is he still following you around like a lost puppy?”
Immediately, I want to defend him—correct her—but that wouldn’t help the low profile we’ve decided to maintain. Giannis came to me after Callum left and we talked; he explained himself and the situation fully, and I’m so grateful to have him in my corner.
I’ve also seen pictures of him with the boyfriend. The goofy smiles they both wear when together, and if I can help make things easier on him, then why not? We are two people stuck in a tough position and deserve a break. To be happy.
“You know it. I’m almost tempted to say yes just to get it over with.” The lie feels wrong, but I can’t tell her what’s going on. The less people involved, the better, and besides, if her father plans to help mine in finding me a “suitable” husband, things will be out in the open soon enough.
Do I want to be responsible for another fight between them? No.
Do I want to kill the glow that surrounds her amid a Casper Jameson romance? No.
So, while the nail technicians come over and we hand them the chosen colors, I giggle. While they scrub, file, and then massage our feet, I do what I do best and pretend nothing is wrong.
She’s oblivious, but I’m not mad because hiding my truth is what I’ve been taught to do. Someday she’ll know, and she’ll be mad at me for not asking for help, but until then, I want to enjoy the peace and quiet.
“I’d pay good money to see the look on his face if you do. He’d probably pee his pants.” She laughs, pulling out her phone after it pings in her small bag. Her eyes brighten while reading a text. Smile wide and cheeks with just a hint of pink, she quickly begins to write back, oblivious to my movements.
Because I check my cellphone too, a small smile fighting to curl at the edge of my lips. I don’t, though, biting it back even though my heart is racing, and my skin breaks out in goose bumps.
I miss you, my Venus. ~Callum J.
Five words. So simple and yet, I feel each one down to my bones. They make me happy. Make me want to giggle and be all high-pitched squeals, but I can’t.
Aurora has enough on her plate, the mess with her father and his demands for her to take over weighing heavy on her shoulders. I also don’t know how she’d feel about me seeing Casper’s cousin. Would it bother her?
I’m keeping so much from her already.
I hope that on the day all my truths come out, she forgives me.
“Clean sheetsand shaved legs for the win.” I sigh, snuggling deeper into the bed after another long day. Yeah, we took a break in the afternoon, but that was cut short mid-lunch when the receptionist at the Conte House called with an urgent new case. This one came with a police escort and two signed court orders that say her ex-boyfriend isn’t allowed within a hundred feet of her and their son. No excuses.
That led to more paperwork, room placement, and then a long meeting with them while Aurora explained the ins and outs—rules—while I worked in a curricular activity for both. Schooling for the twelve-year-old, job training for her, and then medical and mental health visits for both.
I’m not sure the extent of what they’ve gone through, but one look into her empty eyes spoke louder than the screams of a thousand angry souls. And while I usually handle the public relations side of the house and the few classes I teach a week, I sat down and helped a tired Aurora with what I could before walking out the front doors a little after seven p.m.
I’m hungry, but too tired to make anything.
I’m sleepy, yet awake and wanting something. Him.
I miss him.
Grabbing my phone from the nightstand, I open our last text exchange and read them. His last reply was over twenty-four hours ago, a corny joke that made me laugh until my eyes watered. It involved a bike, being tired, and the mother of a dad joke delivery that morphed into a catastrophe of comedic genius.
His timing killed me. I’d been running late, rushing to my car when it came through, and I laughed so hard my phone slipped and skidded across the ground, earning itself a nice scratch across the screen.
You should be arrested for this joke. ~Venus
I changed my handle to his nickname before hitting send. Couldn’t help myself.
Before I’m able to place the device down, though, it rings, and I’m surprised. It’s so late in London. Pressing the green button, I smile as a tired-looking Callum smirks back at me.
“I’ll have you know I’m very funny. Have been approached several times to run my own big network special.”
“Is that so?”
“Aye.” At my snort, he rolls his eyes and then sighs. His finger traces across the screen. “You’re so beautiful, Venus.”
My cheeks heat up, and my heart races. That same fluttering energy fills my stomach, and it’s like he’s here all over again. “Thank you.”
“You look so soft and warm, love. Are you in bed?” That’s when I notice he’s in an office of some sort; a large screen hangs behind him while a half empty bottle of dark liquor sits just to his right. “Let me see you.”
“I am,” I say, sitting up against my pillows. My back arches a bit as I situate myself, and the thin cotton of my shirt stretches—exposes just how hard my nipples are. The mere sound of his voice does wicked things to me; I’m wet and achy with that growing need he incites. Just like when he was here. When I had his touch, his mouth on my skin. “How do you want me?”
“Don’t tease me, sweetheart.” His groan is loud, and I shiver. “It’s been a long day, and I’m nowhere near done. Take pity on a lad and show me a little skin.”
“Have you missed me?” At my counter, he gives me a lecherous look. “PG-13 miss me, not rated MA, Mr. Jameson.”
“I have. More than you could ever imagine.” There’s amusement in his tone, but it’s the heated look that makes me simper. A low, keening mewl escapes my lips, my skin breaking out in goose bumps while he watches. Licks his lips. “And you…did you miss me? My touch?”
“Both.” It’s my truth, and his expression softens a bit. A sweet hunger. He’s older than me, in his late twenties, but the boyish looks and the way his gaze sweeps across the screen should be considered illegal. “Has anyone told you you’re quite charming? It’s nearly impossible to not be drawn to you.”
“And you’re simply captivating.” Callum pours himself a drink, grabbing a glass from somewhere within arm’s reach while not standing from his seat. It’s a few fingers’ worth, no ice or soda to mix. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Aliana.” He takes a sip and holds it. Savors it. “All day. All night.”
“I’m stuck in the same cycle.” Because I am. Morning, noon, and night; this man is on my mind and refusing to give me a single moment of reprieve from the promises he made. “Yet you’re far, and I’m here.”
“This separation is temporary.”
“What do you consider temporary?” I pull the phone further from my face and tilt it, giving him a better view of my body from my mouth to the edge of my panties. Then a little lower, where I shimmy my bedsheet down to lay over my mid thighs, pausing at the juncture where he can see me. There’s no hiding the small patch of wetness there nor the small lift of my hips. His groans fuel me, make me want to be bolder, but I want the answer to my question more. Not keeping the focus there for long, I pull it back, drag the camera view up slowly until he can see my eyes again. “I’m still waiting for your answer, sir.”
“You’re a naughty little thing.”
“And you do this to me.”
“Everything I told you was true.” Callum lets out a rough breath then. The desire is still there, but I’m transfixed by his gem-like stare that’s so honest and open. “I want your home to be London, Aliana. Beside me.” Before I can answer, though, someone comes into the room after knocking once; their words aren’t clear, and after Callum nods, you can hear the door close. His face is tense now, a complete contradiction from the man who a minute ago confessed to missing me. Wanting me with him. “My apologies, love. Casper’s looking for me.”
“Is everything okay? Is this about your aunt?”
His head bows slightly in affirmation. “It will be soon.”
He’s going out to work. To possibly kill.
“You need to go, don’t you.” Not a question and he nods, knocking back what’s left of his drink. Whatever he’s about to do isn’t something I want the details on, but I worry. It builds, creates this uncomfortable feeling in my chest that begins to eat at me. I’m in too deep and care too much. Diosito, please watch out for him. “I need you safe, Callum. Promise me you will not get hurt.”
“You have my word.” For a second, neither of us speak. We watch until there’s another knock and he sighs, the sound heavy, and it settles across my body like a warm blanket. It’s a sound of remorse and need, and I feel the heaviness in my bones. I don’t judge you. I can’t. “You’re embedded deep, Venus. So motherfucking deep, and I don’t want it to change because every part of me needs you.”