Fixing Noah / Finding Noah - #ForNoah | +18 | BWWM

08 | Breathe

Noah's strong back walked out that door. As he left, a part of me waited to see. See what? I'm not even sure. The suit hugged him perfectly. The man didn't stop. He didn't turn around and check on me. Noah walked right out that door. Shutting it without a single bit of hesitation. I held on to the bits and pieces of myself. That little piece I held tight because I would break apart at any moment. But what did I expect from Noah?

I taught him how to fuck, not how to love.

And he fucked me good. The accusing words whispered to me. Filled my lungs with fluid because I might have pulled Noah to the ocean floor drowning us both but Noah's of the sea. He, unlike me, kept it moving. While I with all my finery is still down here.

Drowning...

I can't breathe.

No matter how I sucked down the air, it was nothing but water. My head hits the back of the door he had just left through. Sliding down the door to the ground and my gown making sure that I never find the surface, never find that air again.

I bring my arms in tight to me. The rightness and wrongness of the fucking were so jarring that I wanted to vomit. My stomach turned loudly as my eyes met me again in the mirror, brown so like my mother's. After all that ugly sex, the beautiful evening gown and borrowed jewelry were mocked. It's a perfection, a complete lie to the total mess. The dress's expensive quality goes a long way, go figure. I was hollowed out, and the mirror wasn't helping. I'm going to have to return the jewelry to Shar as soon as possible. And I fight back the tears that want to come.

Not Here...

Not Tonight..

Tari.. you can do this. You can do this... I tell myself in a loop, a chant with my water-filled lungs.

As the pieces fell away from me, slipping from my grasp, lost in the ocean. Lost, maybe forever. I had no one to believe in. So many responsibilities and anything I wanted weren't on the table. We didn't even have a real chance, but that doesn't mean that I wanted this for Noah or me. The ugly sex played in my head on repeat. Circles in circles, his hands digging into my thighs with a bruising force he never used before, but it felt good. I lift my dress and the bruises already showing up, even with my dark skin.

I couldn't let myself slip. All I can do is go forward, so forward I go. My hand reaches out and I pick up my panties and then slide them back on. Then I stand up on my own two feet and check myself out in the mirror. Everything was in place and no tears, thankfully. I walked back to the interview room and the last interview of the night. Along with the auction of the last item.

"Neptune, a work of modern art...." The Sotheby's auctioneer echoes my thoughts. Auctioneer's voice is as loud as he goes over the boat along with the paintings. It's Noah's complete art installation that ties the paintings together with the boat. The audience ooos in their seating outdoors. I pick up my clipboard and the mics. Then, without looking up into his eyes, I mic up Noah. Sitting in the seat with the cameras. As like with the other artist, the first of the interviewers start with him. He handles the question from each of the interviewers allowed to ask one each of him then leave the room. The tv monitor in the room showed the audience watching Noah on the large screen outdoor. The event was moving properly now that he was here after the artwork was announced for bid.

It was a tiny interview room and trying not to look at someone as big as Noah was a beyond elephant in the room territory. It was nearly impossible. I tap the top of my clipboard with my thumb, not making any loud noise, just a brush against the bedazzled clipboard. Any thoughts were of anything but this. It was a countdown until the princess ball was over. Who would have thought my son was right? He called me a princess. I guess I'm Princess Cinderella and the clock is already struck twelve. I was turning back into a pumpkin, one ticking second at a time. As an urbane upgrade, Noah ignored me as much as I ignored the fuck outta me. His imprint was already etched into me. I could still feel his too big size that stretched me way too fast between my legs.

I breathe in and out through my nose slowly, thumb against the clipboard. Pacing myself slowly and got through it. The problem with making a mess in your professional life is you got to sit in it. No running away and just get the damn job done.

Red dress. Red lips. Red heels.

When I saw that red dress walk in, rage-filled me, replacing all that sorrow.

A/n: I have a few things to say at the end of the sequence. But yall know what to do comment, share, star, all of it. :)