Chocolate Girls with Golden Hair (19 page)

Camina slowed her pace as she made her
way to Bruce's office. His office light was on and his half-opened
briefcase sat next to his desk. A telltale sign that he was
definitely still in the office.

But where?

Camina crept through the dimly lit
corridors, the anger stirring inside.

Whatever they were doing, they were
doing it together, perhaps having a late dinner in the lunchroom.
But to her dismay when she reached the lunchroom, it was dark and
isolated. After almost running out of places to look, she passed by
two unoccupied conference rooms and considered checking another
floor, when a noise from down the hall elicited an even better
idea.

In the bathroom stall, Bianca and Bruce
were all into each other, mouth, lips and tongue. Bruce sat on the
bowl while Bianca straddled his lap. Wearing her red lace panties,
her long skirt was hiked up above her waist as she grinded against
his lap. First slowly then faster…faster…faster, like two beasts in
heat.

Her hands roamed through his thick dark
hair that she loved so much as she inhaled his hot musky breath,
feeling herself becoming more and more excited. She continued to
ravish his mouth with her tongue all the while not exactly sure how
far she wanted to go. Still she wanted to play along as long and as
far as she could. She stepped into the rhythm of the moment,
wrapped his belt around his neck and pulled it snug while she
feverishly continued to grind against his lap. His hands made their
way through her opened blouse, over her hard nipples, which
protruded through her lace bra. Bruce seemed so enthralled in the
moment that he failed to give much attention to the belt around his
neck. It wasn't until Bianca yanked it like a rope that caused a
rouse.

"Take it easy," he said.

She had a thing for belts. It was her
tool of dominance. He tried to release the belt from his neck, but
Bianca distracted him when she slid her tongue over his bottom lip
and devoured his mouth with her lips, savoring every
minute.

Upon lifting her bra, her breasts swung
from underneath and he gawked at them as if the magical moment had
arrived. He circled her nipples with his tongue, and her
temperature rose with each breath from his mouth.

He grasped the back of her head, his
face to hers, and stared directly into her eyes. "This is what you
wanted, isn't it?"

"Yes," she said in a faint
whisper.

It didn't matter that she was in the
men's room with a married man, half dressed with her legs wrapped
around him while he sat on the bowl. Surely, he had no respect for
her, but it was okay because it was what she wanted. She was having
fun, doing the things she never thought she would do, while she
traveled the malicious rode of adventure.

He guided Bianca off his lap, slid his
hands up to her waist and moved her panties down her legs. Her
intentions were not to go that far and her first thought was to
stop him, but she couldn't. Having built herself up for this
moment, if Bruce didn't make love to her now, she would lose it.
Totally lose it.

After she helped him with her panties,
she covered his face with them while he undid his pants, dropping
them to his ankles. Just as Bianca was about to take the plunge,
she glanced up and to her astonishment, saw the face of Camina
staring down on them.

It was like seeing the devil
materialize for the first time, and her heart thumped in horror. It
happened too fast for Bianca's thoughts to catch up with the
moment. Camina's timing could not have been worse. Bianca wanted
Bruce with an undeniable craving, and Camina had unpredictably
screwed up her plans.

The fury in Camina's eyes was almost
deadening as she and Bianca shared a long, drawn out stare. Bianca
displayed a guised smile, trying desperately to hide the true
horror in her heart. Surely, she had avenged Camina back in the
worst way as she was as close to Bruce as anyone could
be.

"You son of a bitch," Camina said to
Bruce.

Bruce's eyes glanced upwards and he saw
Camina. "Oh, shit," he said as he removed Bianca's panties from his
face.

Once Camina's head disappeared from
overhead, Bianca heard the door close.

Right away, Bruce prodded Bianca up
from his lap and pulled up his pants.

Was Bruce doing what Bianca thought he
was doing?

This could not possibly be
happening.

There was just no way Bruce was going
to leave Bianca for Camina. He couldn't because she simply would
not allow it.

"What are you doing?" Bianca questioned
mercifully. "You can't just stop."

Bruce tossed Bianca to the side and
left the stall. Bianca followed close behind after she picked up
her panties from the floor. Bruce stood before the mirror over the
Basin and straightened his tie.

Bianca slid into her panties, her mouth
twisted in disappointment. "What are you going to do? Go after
her?"

"I have to."

Bruce's words stung Bianca's ear, and
she felt as if she could kill him. Right now.

"You can't just stop and go after her.
Who do you think you're fucking with?"

Bianca was better than Camina in every
way. She was more beautiful and more fun and she would not play
second. He continued to fix his clothes, while Bianca stood behind
him, her arms folded.

"You're going to stop what we're doing
to go after that bitch? You can't leave me for her. I won't allow
it. "

Bruce turned to face her. "Get a grip,
Bianca."

It was happening all over again. She
felt picked over and unwanted, just like when she was a little girl
and her sister Sandy was always the chosen one. She had become
someone new, someone different, but she was still coming in second,
and she didn't like it. Suddenly, as if her eyes opened for the
first time, she experienced a lucid awakening which possessed a
calming effect. In her sedated composure, she understood what she
needed to do.

Chapter 13

BIANCA STEPPED FROM THE MEN'S room and
was about to head down the corridor when she was startled by a
voice.

"Bianca?" the girlish male voice
called.

Right away, Bianca recognized Rollie's
high-pitch voice and didn't dare turn around, not wanting to be
identified coming from the men's room. Plus, she was not in a state
of mind to talk to anyone.

Anxious to be clear of Rollie's view,
Bianca sprinted down the corridor, heard Rollie again call to her,
but this time was different.

"Camina?" he questioned.

Just before Bianca turned the corner,
Rollie called out a different name. "Michelle?"

She understood his
confusion.

All three of them wore the same
hairstyle, and they were the same height and body frame. From the
back, she very well could have been Camina or Michelle. Plus she
and Camina both wore almost identical outfits that
evening.

How was Rollie to tell the
difference?

Bianca was half wearing her coat when
she signed out at the security desk. It was six-thirty when she
made a swift exit through the revolving doors.

The streets were covered with melted
snow, and the wind was brisk. Bianca stood on the corner of Lake
and LaSalle, in dire need of a taxi. A cringing chill from the
brutal gusts of wind hammered against her, but was too impatient to
button her coat or slip on her gloves. Finally, in the back of the
Yellow taxi, she sat, her eyes glued to the window. She relived the
events that transpired that evening, and she didn't like it. She
obtained what she wanted, experienced her life the way her sister
did, and almost completed an affair in the men's room. So, why did
she feel so awful?

The fun was ending, and she no longer
enjoyed the person she had become. She wasn't sure if it was
because Bruce rejected her, or if it was because she was never
truly happy in her sister's skin in the first place.

How would she ever be able to face
Camina after what happened? Surely there would be no end to the
animosity in the office now.

Bianca fumbled with the locks to her
apartment door, her hands unable to remain still long enough to
insert the key. Once inside, she clicked on the hall light. She was
unable to pinpoint her disarray of emotions.

Was it regret?

Was it disgrace?

Or was it humiliation?

Perhaps, it was all of the
above.

She stood by the door and did not move
for several minutes. How could she have done what she did, behaved
like a bargain basement hussy, half dressed with a man that cared
nothing about her, and of all the appalling places, the men's room.
The shields of reality came colliding in.

Was this what her life had been
diminished to?

Getting even and having fun?

No longer was she the nice person she
once used to be, the person Lee fell in love with. Her mind raced
through bits and pieces of her past, toppled with a large dose of
enlightenment.

Lee, her doctor and many others had all
warned her, but she was too hypnotized to listen. Her
transformation felt so right at the time, but not now. She was so
unhappy and disappointed with herself. All she wanted was for
things to return to the way they were before.

She stood immobilized with her back
against the door, her head back. Still wearing her coat, she was in
deep thought. The startling ring of the phone caused her to jump.
Somehow the ring sounded much louder than ever before. She never
thought she would ever be afraid to answer her own phone, but she
was. She stared at the phone for several seconds, trying to decide
if she should answer, then let voicemail pick up.

Standing at the kitchen counter, she
couldn't pour herself a drink fast enough. She tried her best to
make sense of what happened and calm her nerves. The worst thing
that could happen would be that she lost her job and that she and
Camina would never speak again.

If that was the worst scenario, why was
she such a wreck?

So much she wanted to write it off as
just another adventurous experience, but in her heart and in her
head, it was much more than that.

A lot more had transpired.

It was shame in all of its glory from
where she stood, and all she could think about was how she could
make it right.

A long night awaited her.

Trying to fall asleep proved a true
challenge and an even greater challenge to silence the taunting
thoughts that played over and over in her head. It was
embarrassment at its finest.

How could she suffer so much
embarrassment even after the fact? Reoccurring disturbing visions
of herself plagued her mind. All she remembered was sitting on
Bruce's lap in the men's room, and the thoughts caused her stomach
to churn. All through the night, she tossed and turned until she
could toss and turn no more. She was unable to erase Bruce's face
from her mind. Finally after wasting most of the night twitching
and switching, she ended up wrapped in her red and white polka-dot
comforter.

On the floor.

Sound asleep.

At six-thirty the next morning, Bianca
awakened, exhausted, to her buzzing alarm clock. She managed to
only secure a few hours of sleep and her body felt it. With her
head throbbing, she mustered up the strength to climb out of bed
and make her way into the bathroom.

She stood in front of the mirror,
looking at her wild-looking blonde hair. Before she stepped into
the shower, she wolfed down four aspirin, hoping her head would
stop pounding long enough for her not to accidentally slip and
fall.

Her immediate thought was to call off
work, the norm for her these days, but she couldn't. Not this time.
She needed to show up for work if only to make sure her job still
existed. Most of all, she needed to face the aftermath of her
actions. After weeks of coming in late and leaving early, most of
her luxuries were used up. As lenient as her boss, Lillian may have
been, if word spread about her performance in the men's room, that
would be it for her, blonde hair and all.

It was time to face the drama even if
she didn't want to.

Bianca stepped from the shower and
didn't have the desire to apply a stitch of makeup to her face. She
lacked that kick-ass attitude that transported her to this place of
humiliation and disgrace.

How she referred to herself as BeeBee
caused her to spit in the sink. That was not who she was, something
so many people tried to tell her, but rebelliously and foolishly,
she refused to heed.

Her eyes scanned down to the butterfly
tattoo on her breast, bringing back memories of all that she had
done. She no longer admired the way that her straight blonde hair
hung at her shoulders, and she pulled it all back into a ponytail,
the way she used to wear it. This simple look provided her with a
sense of sanity, which was almost how she felt─slightly sane but
very simple.