Miss Me? A Short Story

Miss Me?

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I'm writing short stories to practice specific techniques and creative writing in general. Please feel free to leave constructive criticism or kindly point out mistakes. Hope you enjoy!
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The tension in the air is palpable. Without turning around, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that his eyes are glued to me. I can feel them. They're following my every move, watching me like a panther tracking it's prey. Calculatedly. Quietly. Tensely.

We're on edge, both knowing full well that our little game is in overtime and the clock is running down rapidly. I breathe in the musty air of the downtown bar where we first met, leaning in a little closer to the clean-shaven man who bought me a drink. The fourth man tonight. I don't remember his name, but then again, I don't care. I haven't listened to a single word he's said for the duration of our interaction. I only came here tonight for one reason, to see him. Or rather, for him to see me.

I smile flirtatiously at my drink donor as I wrap my fingers around my martini glass in slow motion. I raise it to my mouth and take a tantalizingly slow sip, leaving an imprint of deep red lipstick on the rim, which I spin away from us to face him. Now his name, I know. Nicolas Rhodes. It might as well be tattooed across my body, as every inch that his fingers have touched are screaming out for him always.

Unfortunately, he started to take me for granted, and getting a little too controlling. It was gradual, but it was happening. We eventually fought, and it felt like an earthquake. The castle we'd built around us with passion and love began to shake and crumble under the pressure. I needed space and, well, you know what they say; you don't know what you have until it's gone. So, I disappeared. For weeks. I blocked his number and all of his social media profiles. I stopped talking to our mutual friends. Finally, I decided it was time to go back. I needed to see him, to hold him in my arms and feel his heart pounding, knowing it only beats for me. Today, while he was at work, I left a note on his penthouse apartment door, unsigned.

Miss me?
Meet me tonight. You know where. Maybe I'll give you a second chance. xx

I took my sweet time getting here ,and picturing him desperately waiting and wondering if I'd show up or if it was another game made it all so much more delicious. When I arrived, I breezed right past him to the first gentleman that caught my eye. It was comically easy, as I'm the kind of woman that catches everyone's eye, or more like demands it. He bought my first drink. We flirted, but that was only round one. And even that was torcher for my precious Nic.

I'd seen him from the corner of my eye, leaning back in a chair, when I entered the establishment. I was wearing a particularly flattering silk, open-back mini dress in his favorite color, Ferrari red. My long dark hair was lazily curled and left down, brushing my bare back with every slight movement, leaving a spattering of goosebumps in its wake. My matching Louboutins drew attention to my already long and shapely legs. I was wearing the necklace he gave me, a gold delicate chain with a letter "N" charm hanging off of it, resting just below my pronounced clavicle. As soon as he saw me he sat straight up, then stiffened as I approached another man.

It's been almost two hours and I still haven't looked at him once, but I can sense the veins protruding from his neck, his hands clenched and sweaty, his thinking blurred with jealous thoughts. To a causal observer, he looks like just another tense business man unwinding after a long day at the office. His expensive suit is slightly disheveled and his once neat and slicked back dirty blonde hair is now messily tousled, like he has been worriedly running his hands through it all night. He is slouching carelessly in a lounge chair in the shadowed corner by the door, legs spread out to dominate the space. One hand hangs over the armrest gripping the Old Fashioned he's been nursing as he watches me from his slightly sunken in stormy brown eyes. He's undoubtedly been here since he saw the note at 5:30 when he returned home from the office. I didn't arrive until 10. Only I know how much restraint he is practicing, more than any man on this earth has. He knows this is his punishment, and he's taking it. I'm just wondering how much he'll take, and how far I'll have to go to push him to ignite the spark in his chest and turn it to a raging wildfire.