Wait for Me (23 page)

“Until another guy came along,” I muttered. “Then what? Get violent like Albert did?”

Adam gave me a sweetly tormented look.

“You'll never find another man like me,” he said.

I gave a haughty laugh. “How do you know? There's a hell of a lot of men out there.”

“Because I'll never find another woman like you,” he answered. “And you know it. You've known it a lot longer than I have.”

I turned to look at Sabrina, who was on the phone.

“Will you come home with me?” he asked, lightly stroking my cheek.

“Please, we'll fix it. I'll fix it.”

“What home?” I asked.

“Mine, yours… ours.”

What was it about this man that could shatter my strongest convictions? Why was it that, every time I looked into his eyes, I saw a whole world to which I felt I belonged? My phone vibrated with a message. I looked at the screen and turned towards Sabrina, still watching from the sidewalk.

Sabrina took a cab and I took Adam's hand. We walked the streets of New York, breaking the silence with breathless kisses. Finally, we arrived at the door to his building. I had gazed at those twelfth floor lights so many times, trying to imagine the interior, and now I was here. The doorman let us in and stared at me with surprise.

“Hello,” I muttered, awkwardly.

“Good evening,” he said, uncertainly. “Welcome back Mr Scott.”

“Evening Stewart.”

In the elevator, I had the same feeling that I had a few months earlier when he introduced me to the other side of his world. I couldn't even begin to imagine what I would find here.

“Are you afraid?” Adam asked, hugging me.

I didn't answer and sank into his arms.

“No masks this time.”

“Somehow that's more worrying.”

Adam smiled. “Are you afraid of what I might do?”

“No, I've never been afraid of you, just afraid of what I might discover.”

The elevator door opened as we were about to kiss again.

I stepped out – heart pounding in my chest.

“Welcome to my home,” he said, walking me to the center of the living room.

Everything was pristine and in perfect order; modern deco and scattered with expensive objects, including the predictable Castiglioni lamp.

“What are you smiling at?” he asked.

“You rich guys all have the same apartments, all with the approved designer objects.”

“Is that right?” he asked. “Are you saying I have generic taste?”

“A little,” I replied.

“You want something to drink?” he asked, nearing the liquor cabinet.

“No thanks, water's fine.”

Adam moved into the adjoining kitchen.

“Do you cook?” I asked.

“Sometimes,” he said, with half a smile. “I usually ask Carmen, my housekeeper, to make dinner though.”

He gave me a glass of water, which I drank in one. I carefully eyed the furniture, feeling a little uneasy. These walls concealed a history unknown to me. I looked at the adjacent leather couches and thought about him fucking all of the women I had seen. The table, on which he had just placed his glass, had almost certainly witnessed some passion. For me these images were vague abstractions, but for him? Every surface of this place contained a tangible memory.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, drawing closer to me.

“Nothing,” I answered.

“Liar. What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing. Come on, give me the tour.” I took his hand and dragged him into the hallway.

Behind the first door was the guest bathroom, as big as my parking lot bedroom. Next to that was a gym, opposite an overflowing laundry room. Beside that was the guest bedroom, about the size of the entire living room in the Bronx. Without opening the door, he told me that the last room on the left was his office, but he didn't want to show me because of the mess.

Or because it isn't an office, I thought.

Finally, we entered his room. It was spacious, with a stunning view of Manhattan. He stood behind me as I admired the landscape. I glanced at the road and found the sign for ‘Lether Parking', thinking back to the nights I had spent on the steps, looking up at this light and wondering what he was doing.

“You're so quiet. What are you thinking about?” he asked, hugging me from behind.

“Your apartment is so—”

“Impersonal?”

“No, it's modern, but warm. It suits you.” I turned and kissed him.

I noticed a picture frame on the dresser. I slid from his grasp and went for a closer look. It was him, a little younger, with his parents and sisters, together with their husbands and children. It was beautiful; it was a stock image of a happy family.

“Your family?”

“Yup.”

I turned around, to take in the whole room.

“This place is huge,” I commented.

I ran my fingers across the side of the bed.

“You brought so many women here—” I started, barely glancing at him. His expression darkened, as though I had stabbed the wound again. “Why not me?” I asked, sitting down.

“Because I never would have let you out again.” He slowly made me lie down on the bed and settled beside me.

“You want me as your hostage?”

“I would if I could,” and kissed me. “I missed you,” he whispered, touching my lips.

I sank my tongue into his month, squeezing him tightly. His kisses became urgent and I heard him gasp. I paused for a moment, startled by his impetuous passion, more intense than ever.

“Oh Sophie,” he murmured, biting my lip. “What have you done to me—”

“I don't want to do this here,” I said.

He stopped and searched my eyes. “I won't do anything until you feel comfortable.”

I smiled at him. “I just don't want to do it on this bed. Is there an untainted surface?”

He quickly led me to his office and lay me down on the couch.

“I'm the only person who comes in here,” he said.

A moment later, I kicked my shoes off and grabbed him.

“Do you still want me?” he asked.

“Why do you ask? You never ask.”

“You make me unsure and I don't want to get anything wrong this time. I don't want to let you down.”

I smiled and curled into him, putting my head on his chest.

“You might be completely brainless, Adam,” my hand slid down onto his erection. “But you have a magnificent penis and I'd like it inside me please.” I kissed his chin, then looked into his eyes, laying more kisses on his cheekbones, his nose, and finally back to his mouth. His pulled me out of my dress and, as usual, tore my underwear off.

He rolled me over, spread my legs with his and began to take me, slowly and sweetly. I was ready for him and as soon as he pushed himself inside me, I closed my eyes. I felt complete – savoring the fact that, in this moment, I belonged to him. I instinctively raised my pelvis to move with his thrusts, creating a single motion. He withdrew and then very slowly refilled me. His kisses became more urgent, and he started to penetrate harder, faster, relentless, just as I liked it.

“
Mi amor
,” he gasped in a whisper.

Those unexpected words made me surrender to him, reaching a magnificent climax and letting go of everything that had happened.

“You're beautiful,” I heard him hiss, as he began to pant harder and become stiffer. My eyes widened.

“Adam!”

“Sophie.”

“Adam.”

“What is it?”

“I'm still not on the pill.”

He came crashing back to reality and withdraw himself, clenching his teeth. I wrapped my hands around his penis to finish him off and he exploded onto my stomach.

“Fuck, Sophie,” he hugged me and we stayed in that uncomfortable position for a few minutes, panting between lavishing kisses. Exhausted, he collapsed onto my body, pushing me further into the cushions. He burrowed his head into my neck and his breathing slowly relaxed. I caressed his face; his beard was strange to my touch.

“This beard?”

“The pounds you've lost?” he replied, touching my hips.

I smiled. “You can't cope without me,” I said, half joking.

“Very funny,” he answered, becoming more serious. “I missed you Sophie,” he said, showing a kind of vulnerability that I had not seen before. “Don't ever leave me again,” he added. “This is what happens without you.” After a thousand kisses and caresses, Adam stood up and asked me to wait for him – exactly where I was.

After he left, I got up and, very uncharacteristically, started to snoop around the room. The office was not messy, far from it. I perched myself at the desk with my back to the illuminated city, and began to poke around the objects on the table. I glanced at some of the hand-written notes – his handwriting.

I read two lines and froze.

It was a detailed list of our ‘encounters', together with reference points for video footage. The positions, the objects used, the minutes of pain, the seconds of climax. I sprang up from the edge of the chair, distraught. I scanned through each sheet in utter disbelief and looked up, despairing at my own stupidity for

having believed that I was ever anything more than this. On the table beside the couch, I noticed a remote control. Seething with anger, I knelt before the TV, turned it on and selected the recorded section.

To my dismay, the single folder was named after me. I opened it and selected the file, only to observe myself being fucked. It was worse than a horror movie. I couldn't look at it. I changed the speed to 16x and saw our meetings in fast motion. Holding the sheets of paper, I found scene 34 and watched the images before me, comparing them to his detailed written analysis. I felt a knot in my chest and my thoughts instinctively ran to the polar bear in the cage. We were just the same – objects of study and analysis.

“Sophie.”

I tore my eyes from the screen. Adam was in the doorway, holding a packet of wet wipes in one hand, a plate with two sandwiches in the other and a blanket under his arm.

“What are these?” I asked, waving the sheets of paper. “What the hell are you doing? Analyzing me? Fucking me and recording the results?” I threw them into the air like a confetti shower and gathered my dress from the floor.

A moment later, Adam had grabbed me by the arm. “It's not what you think, Sophie. It's not what you think,” he said nervously. I raised my leg, trying to knee him in that fucking cock of his. He let go of me in order to shield himself.

“I don't even know what to think any more – there's no limit with you!”

“Please calm down… sit… I can explain.” He held my head still with his hands, forcing me to look at him.

Seriously, calm down?

“What am I? An experiment?” I barked through the fog.

“Of course not.”

“What is this then?” I clicked PLAY and the speakers amplified my moans. I threw on my dress.

Adam darted to switch off the television and hurried back to me.

“You've never been an experiment. I was just trying to learn.”

“Learn to do what?” I snarled. “Extract the most pleasure?”

Adam was silent. Oh god, I remembered our discussion during that first dinner in Long Island.
The tantric orgasm.

“Because of this tantric thing?” I asked, pulling away.

“There's nothing the matter with you. I see that you feel pleasure, it's just—”

“It's muted,” I finished, still distraught.

“No, no, no,” and he took my face in his hands again. “Sophie, look at me, it's alright, you're so beautiful.”

“But I make you unsure.”

“No, my love, I realized later on that I had it all wrong.” He sat me down on the cushion and began to kiss me – distract me. “There's no need for these extras with you, don't you see? We only need one another,” he said, gently easing the strap of the dress off my shoulder. “I only need your kiss, your touch,” and his hand slid onto my breast. “Your breath.” He looked into my eyes.

“And that's enough for you?” I asked, unsure.

“Of course, it's more than I've ever felt before. You know how much I like giving pleasure, but I never imagined feeling like this.”

I closed my eyes, embarrassed.

“Open your eyes Sophie,” he said. “Look at me – you are not an experiment, I just couldn't understand what was happening and I wanted to be good enough for you.”

I managed to meet his eyes and burst into tears. “I… I had never felt like this before I met you. You carry me off somewhere and, I don't know, every time you touch me I feel completely free.”

“My love,” he said again. “I feel exactly the same way, do you believe me?” he wiped away my tears with his finger. “Do you believe me?” he repeated.

He suddenly jumped to his feet.

“Sophie, I'll get rid of it all.” He collected the pages from the floor into a single pile and fed them into the shredder. Then he selected the folder on the television and pressed DELETE. Finally, he returned to me.

“I got it all wrong. I tried to hold myself back, to keep you close but still avoid the fear that I might lose you. Then you—” he said. “You—”

I touched his beard and leaned my forehead against his cheek.

“You abandoned yourself completely to me, and I didn't—”

“Adam.”

“Sophie, let me finish—” he said firmly. “I've enjoyed the bodies of so many women, including yours, but when I would look at you, I was seeing your heart.”

“That was always yours,” I whispered.

“I know,” he replied wistfully. “And now you have mine. I love you, Sophie.”

My eyes widened and I threw my arms round him, beaming into the side of his neck.