Lauren's POV
Monday morning and afternoon were quiet.
Boring meetings happened, some demanding my presence, some not.
When I was forced to participate, I would drag Ally by her wrist, she would sit next to me and briefly explain what these people wanted from me. Usually a signature of mine would settle down, and then I would go back to my office and play with the Newton's cradle that's on my desk.
—"Why almost nothing exciting happens in this company?"
Ally looked at me like someone watching a slug covered in salt.
—"Everything is great, you shouldn't complain. Do you want your company to go bankrupt?"
—"Well, at least something would happen."
She looked at the agenda in her hands.
—"You have less than two months to decide what to do with the lingerie campaign."
-"Do we have a lingerie campaign?"
—"Yes, we do."
—"And why should I know about what to do with it? I don't understand anything about lingerie! I only know to admire them and remove them."—I said.
—"Ms. Jauregui, if you allow me to be blunt, you don't have a fucking clue about what happens inside here, but you still make the decisions."
I sighed.
—"Alright, Ally. Just tell me what to do."—I concluded, getting up and looking at the clock while saying in a fake tone of excitement:
"I'm leaving. I'm going to get ready for the big party! Can't wait, yippee!"
—"If you practice a little more, you would convince me. You're getting better at it. Now we have to work on her facials expressions."
—"Well, it's more or less how I feel. I'll meet you at the entrance at 7:00 p.m. For the love of God, don't take long. They can eat me alive."
—"I very much doubt they will. They just want to make a contract and flatter your presence if that's necessary to get a 'yes'."
—"In the end, it's you who will decide that. Well, until later."
And I left. Less than two hours later we were already at the party where I thought thousands of businessmen would go looking like wolves drooling over the carnage. Ally stayed by my side and I had to control my urge to disappear with the excuse of having a drink and run away through the restroom's window.
All of that was unbelievably and absurdly boring. All those people, whose life goal seemed to be to pull one of the other's coat and greet each other with fake smiles, was making me nervous. This had already happened for some time, but as time passed I was sure that one day I'll explode and send everyone to go to hell, loud and clear.
I asked permission to go to the bar to order some alcoholic drink.
—"Ma'am...Lauren..."—Ally called me, and I felt a little better. I always preferred to hear her calling me by my name.
—"Don't worry. I'm not going to get wasted."
Ally was practically my mother at events like this. She took into account the amount of alcohol that I ingested knowing that I could easily go beyond my limits.
When I fell into depression a long time ago, I found some comfort in alcohol, which quickly backfired. It wasn't an severe case, but it wasn't easy for me to say "enough".
Ally was very present at that time. Suffice it to say that, in addition to my mother, she had been the most present woman in my life.
I walked to the bar, diverting myself from waiters and guests, all very well dressed. Why? I didn't knew. They all ate and drank as much as they could, while laughing at bad jokes and bad-mouthing other people's lives.
Semi-nude women on unnecessarily small bikinis danced near the pool. Some were swimming, although the night wasn't very hot. I imagine that they weren't invited, but hired.
I sat down at the bar and ordered a whiskey. Suddenly, I was hugged from behind.
—"Hello, Ms. Lauren Jauregui."
The woman said, in a flirtatious tone.
It was obvious that she knew about my condition, everyone knew.
I even hear out somewhere, that I'm the most eligible intersexual woman in Los Angeles. Wealthy, good looking, and on the top of that, I have a "special" toy, that was anything but small.
—"Hello, mysterious woman."
—"Gloria Fusaro, very pleased to meet you."
If it weren't for her emphasis on "very" and the "I want you between my legs" look in her eyes, I'd say she was just trying to bring up a topic.
But this woman was straightforward.
—"Don't you know that it's a waste that a "special" woman like you is here, all alone?"
—"How do you know that I'm alone?"—I retorted, sipping from my whiskey.
—"If you weren't, your partner would be clinging to your neck to make sure that no one comes near you."
—"Just like you're already doing?"—I said mockingly.
She give me a smile.
That woman, Gloria or Gretel—I didn't remember very well—had a wide and beautiful smile. She had bleach blonde hair, blue eyes, and pale skin with a phenomenal body. She wore a very fair blue dress that outlined all the glorious curves that God had given her.
We talked for some time, and as time went by, I was forgetting why I was in that clownery. My several shots of whiskey helped, and Greta joined me too, drinking margaritas.
Her conversation wasn't very interesting, but nothing in this place was. Fortunately all the alcohol in my system took that thought out of my head, and after some time the woman was acting shamelessly.
—"This place is so boring...How about we go to a more private place?"—She said, wrapping her arms around my neck.
She was light, and after so many provocations from her voluptuous body, I was slightly aroused.
-"Private place?"—I said—"Here? I don't think there is such a possibility."
—"Then I think we can find another place. You know, far from here."
She winked at me, licking in a rather promiscuous way the rim of her glass.
—"Give me a second."—I answered, as I went to find Ally.
She was drinking mineral water while chatting with a guy a lot younger than her. I called out to her and she quickly came over to me.
—"Where have you been?"—She asked.
—"At the bar. Listen, I need to go."
Ally sighed.
—"How many whiskies have you had?"
—"Not many. So, can I go?"
—"Absolutely not! You have to give an answer to those gentlemen."
She pointed to a corner where six or seven men, all in suits and ties, were chatting and glancing in our direction.
—"Alright.—I spoke with conviction—What do you think about it? Is it worth it or not?"
—"Well, I think it would be good for business..."
I didn't wait for her to finish, I was already o my way to meet the group of executives. I felt Ally running right behind me.
—"Gentlemen, it was a pleasure speaking with you tonight. I'm very happy to tell you that our deal is closed. It's was also a pleasure doing business with you.
They started talking, but I was in a hurry.
—"Unfortunately, I have to go—I interrupted them—An emergency has occurred, but nothing to worry about. My secretary here—And saying that, I pulled Ally forward—She'll discuss the details with you. Good night, gentlemen."
I smiled and started walking away. Ally took my arm, now speaking into my ear.
—"Fine, smarty-pants. I'm going to be good and do your job. But tell me, where are you going?!"—She demanded.
—"I'm going home. I've got a hot woman out there, eager to be with me, and I'm not going to be chatting with those old penguins all night. Don't worry, I'll take a cab."
Ally looked at me without saying anything, and I could see in her eyes an unmistakable trace of pity. It was a genuine pity, coming from a happy and fulfilled woman, with family and children, and even in my alcoholic state, I could see all the pain that this woman, with a life much better than mine, felt for me.
It was a look that someone happy gave to someone essentially miserable, and I had nothing left but to feel sorry for myself as well.
I turned my back and walked away. I wanted to get out of that place, I wanted to get away from that look that made me feel ashamed of myself. I was unhappy and that was pretty clear, but at the time I didn't want to think about it. Because thinking demanded a lot of my willpower.
The easy way out, was to leave the party, where a woman and a taxi were already waiting for me. I only spoke out to tell the driver my address, who led us through the dark streets.
When we reach, I walked into my apartment, with Gretel right behind me and closed the door.
My neck took a near-fatal attack from her mouth, as she start sucking up every bit of skin there. Without much ceremony, she reach out my zipper and pulled down as she pushed me against the wall. I struggled to maintain my already weak balance.
—"Whoa, take it easy..."
I don't know if I was too slow or if that woman was extremely fast, but after what seemed to be around five seconds, she pulled my pants down along with my underwear and brought them down to my ankles. As if it were the most banal thing in the world, she grabbed my cock with her right hand and looking at me with a perverted face, then she began to suck me.
After that, I didn't wanted to think. I left the whole matter in the hands of that promiscuous woman while she took advantage of it. I didn't want to repay the pleasure I was receiving and hoped that she didn't demand it of me.
At that moment, I would allow myself to be completely selfish. I had my eyes closed and my head leaning against the wall behind me. I felt her whispering in my ear.
—"When are you going to show me your room?"
Since I didn't want to fall and stamp my face on the ground, I thought maybe it would be better to remove my pants off, that were rolled around my ankles. I try to bent down to grab them, but that made my head spin around, so I just kicked them off, along with my shoes.
At that instant I only had in mind three things, in this exactly order:
First, to get to my room without falling.
Second, to fuck Greece—It was Greece, right?
Third, roll up in the soft duvet that covered my bed and sleep, hoping that the hangover wouldn't punch me on the face, the following morning.
I tugged at her hand and led her through the dark hallway that led to my room. Thank God I knew the layout of the walls in my own house, which made things much easier. I made it to the bedroom and instantly fell back onto the bed.
—"Darling, I'm going to finish you off, because if I make any effort I think I might vomit."—I told her.
She smiled at me and took off her blue dress, throwing it on the floor.
I couldn't believe it.
She was completely naked! That shouldn't be normal, women who walked around in an absurdly fair and short dress wearing absolutely nothing underneath!
In this case, I didn't care.
Gretel climbed on top of me, one leg on each side, already pulling my shirt up. I kept looking at her with blurry eyes. I quickly analyze her body as I struggled with my weight to remove my clothes.
I immediately noticed three things:
First, I preferred tanned skin.
Second, I like brown eyes instead.
Third, I favor small breasts.
Maybe I could had noticed more details if the woman hadn't suddenly devoured my lips. Then I lost my train of thought and found myself returning that kiss with more enthusiasm than usual. I turned our bodies and got on top of her, deepening the kiss and taking longer than normal into it. She pull my face away with one of her hands, and the rejection might have even shaken me, mostly for the fact that I was completely drunk, then I realized that she was only doing it to be able to breathe.
Well, I might had exaggerated with my tongue.
—"Lauren, how long? How long ago you haven't kissed someone?"
I didn't knew how to answer. How long had I kissed someone?. Even with my drunken thoughts I could recall the last times I had been with somebody, none of that times had include more than sex. Pure sex, without affection or any feeling.
I stared at the horizon line like an idiot, which didn't go much further than the ivory-colored table next to the headboard. I let out a sad sigh and pulled on the drawer, blindly trying to get a condom from there.
—"Love, don't worry. I take the pill."
I was drunk but I wasn't an idiot. That mix usually made me adopt a very emotional stance, but at the same time I tended to be honest:
—"Oh, don't you even think about me going to fuck you without a condom. Then, you'll come back with a child, demanding support.
--"Lauren! You're insulting me!"
She said without looking offended at all.
—"I'm not offending you"—I retorted, still searching blindly for a condom.
* * * *
I woke up the next morning due to a ray of sunlight that had decided to focus on my face. After a few seconds fighting sleep and trying to open my eyes, I managed to come to my senses and understand a bit what was around me.
I was face down on a mess that consisted of the sheets and the white duvet that used to line my bed. Beside me, a woman with pale skin and blonde hair was sleeping silently, also face down, with her face turned towards me. We were both naked, and I felt like my head might explode in any time, having some of my brains decorating my room.
I lift my body with what seemed to me, a superhuman strength to turn to the side, in order to check the time.
I figured it was late, but looking at the bright red numbers I was absolutely sure about something:
Allyson is going to kill me.
It was very likely that she had called me for the past three hours when she found that I wasn't at work. I would confirm that theory as soon as I found my damn phone.
I mustered all the strength that I had left and sat down on the mattress. I felt my brain spin around as if it wanted to come out of my skull.
This caused my eyes to momentarily lose focus, forcing me to close them again and try not to scream with the awful migraine that seemed to want to kill me slowly and painfully.
I walked to the bathroom, turned on the shower. I tried not to think about anything because thinking hurt. I came out rolled up in a towel, brushed my teeth and walked to the closet, choosing a black slack pants and a blouse that seemed to be some shade of green. I looked at myself in the mirror, I comb my hair and put on a light makeup, highlighting my green eyes by applying eyeliner.
Not because I have a penis, it means that I must look like a man. I went back to my room and saw that the woman was still sleeping.
I walked toward her. What was her name?
I think it started with G or C.
—"Hey...—I blurted out, holding her shoulder and shaking it a bit—-Wake up."
I shake her up again, now with more force.
She seemed to stir, and began to wake up.
What the hell it's her name? Gretel? Grace?
-"Hmmm?"
-"You have to go. I have to go! It's almost noon and my secretary is going to kill me!"
I looked for her dress on the floor while trying to speak. Finding it backwards I put it on the right side and handed it to her. Thank God, she obeyed, staggering with the dress in her hands while not giving me the slightest attention. I went to the kitchen looking for some painkiller or any remedy for my hangover.
My cell phone start ringing, even that noise sounded so irritating. I went to the living room and identified that the sound was coming from the mess of clothes on the floor. On my pants pocket. I let out a low groan as I picked up the device.
—"Hello."
—"Ms. Jauregui. I'm glad to know that you're alive."
—"I'm sorry, Ally..."
—"You're late. I hope you're already on your way."
-"I...Give me twenty minutes, okay?"—I pleaded.
—"I'll be counting the time, ma'am."—And she hung up.
She was very pissed off.
I went back into the kitchen and sat at the counter, resting my head in my hands. Some time later, what could have been minutes or hours, Gretel joined me.
—"Good day."—She greeted, keeping her smile on her face as she looked at me.
—"Hi...Do you want a ride? Somewhere?"
—"I would like to, but I don't think you're in a condition to drive."
—"I think I'm not.—I agreed sadly—I'm going to take a taxi, you can come with me."
—"Are you kicking me out?"—She asked me, slightly annoyed.
—"I need to go to work. If I take more than twenty minutes to get there, I have a serious concern if my secretary will be able to contain her urge to attack me with a scissors upon my arrival."
She snorted.
—"Look...Greece.."
—"Gloria."
That! Gloria!
—"Gloria...Last night was fun..."
She continued to look at me, forcing me to finish that sentence.
—"But, you know...It was just sex. We have nothing serious..."
—"I know, I'm not stupid. But that doesn't mean I can't have breakfast. I'm not asking for the keys to your apartment, I just wanted you to give me ten minutes."
Well, I wasn't going to argue with her. I nodded and let her explore my kitchen while resting my head in my hands again. I knew that further delay would bring tragic consequences to my day: Ally would get back at me, scolding at me or worse, leaving me by myself at meetings.
My day was promising.
* * * * *
Ally ignored me all day like I was a speck of dust walking around the office. When I tried to bring up a topic, she used a two-word vocabulary as answer, stating that she was too busy to chat.
—"Can I know why are you treating me so badly?"
—"I'm not treating you badly, ma'am. I'm very busy."
—"You're not busy! I know you're pretending! You're not looking at me."
Then she turned around and gave me a look.
—"Is there something important that you want to discuss?"
She underlined the word "Important", as if I just wanted to talk about nonsense.
—"Yes: Why are you so mad?"
—"I'm your secretary. I'm ready to discuss related topics with the company, so if you have nothing to say about..."
—"Stop it! What's the matter? What did I do for you treat me like this?"
She stared at me for a few seconds, and then spoke in a tone not too appropriate for a secretary.
—"I'm surprised that you're so stupid for you not to realize what you're doing with your own life."
—"What am I doing? The fact that I got drank yesterday and went to sleep with a..."
—"I don't care what you did yesterday. But you can't seem to steady yourself in no aspect of your life. For the love of God, Lauren. Look what you are becoming! In a few years you'll be a single and unfortunate businesswoman whom only gets to be with skanks, because she hasn't a single drop of self love or desire to find someone whom is decent..."—-
—"I've already tried to do that, in case you don't remember."—I interrupted her speech by raising my voice considerably.
—"And from there on? What? Do you really think you're are the only person who suffered a love disappointment in life? Stop navel gazing! There are people with much more serious problems out there!"
Well, she was obviously right, but I had problems too.
—"I know that I'm not the biggest example of misfortune, but don't tell me that my life is easy."—I spoke in a low tone.
—"I didn't say that! But you're not trying to improve!"
I stood silent looking at my hands.
—"How many people have you allowed to get close to you? How many women have you really given the opportunity to meet and maybe like? You had created that wall around yourself to avoid getting hurt, but you'll ended up living your life in the most regrettable way possible because you think your mistakes could be justified by a disappointment from the past. You can't blame everything on what happened, and if you want to fix the mess your life is right now, you have to start by giving people a chance."
—"I don't want to give anyone a chance. Everyone is an opportunist."—I said.
—"That's not true. There are ordinary people and special people."—She said.
I had to smile at the irony of the moment.
She was silent. Suddenly I felt her hand on my shoulder, and I knew that who was going to speak now was Ally, my best friend:
—"You'll only be able to overcome your problems when you allow yourself to do that. Sorry to inform you, but that only depends on you. And when you give that a chance, you're going to see a lot of things clear in your mind."
—"That requires a courage that I don't have."—I replied looking at her.
—"You're re no longer a child. We know that sometimes we have to clear our minds."
—"That's what I'm afraid of. I can hit my head and die."—I laughed.
—"Lauren, I care for you. I really do. I want to see you happy, but you have to help yourself."
We were silent for some time. My head still ached, now more intensely from the recent argument with Ally.
—"Well...—I felt her hand move away from my shoulder. She pulled herself together going back to her role as secretary and taking a very serious stance—I'm going back to my office. If you need anything, I'll be available."
And saying that, she nonchalantly walked towards the door.
—"You know...—I started saying without thinking, and only God knows the reason for my words at that moment—I might give the wrong woman a chance."
She turned around gracefully, and for the first time, I noticed that Ally had something angelic about her.
—"Wrong in other people's eyes doesn't mean anything. Perhaps she's the one."
She left my office.
I knew Ally was right. And I had to find a way in my life because it was obvious that I wasn't happy. I wasn't really trying to change that because I didn't have the least will to do something about it. Of course it was much more comfortable to whinny about my pathetic life than to try to fix it.
And I knew I would regret not following her advice immediately. But for now, I was going to postpone that decision.
So at 10pm I was heading to The Hills in a taxi, doing exactly what Ally had advised me not to do: Living my life in the most pitiful way possible.
I got there thirty minutes later. The place as always, was crowded with clients of the upper class who had fun with the most varied types of girls. I stopped by the bar and ordered a whiskey on the rocks, which was soon served. I appreciated the good service and walked to the farthest table, which was in the corner between two perpendicular walls. It was fine there, because no one would see me.
Well sooner or later I would look for someone, but for now I allowed myself savoring the ice cold drink in the glass in front of me as I stared blankly at the people walking back and forth.
I don't know on what degree of unconsciousness I was, but only after two minutes sitting at that table, I was able ti identify the girl who was at the table next to me.
Of course. It had to be her.
I looked directly at the man who was sitting very close to her, speaking something in her ear and laughing at a joke, that Camila clearly wasn't finding funny. On the other hand, she looked at me with slightly frighten eyes while trying to keep a little distance from the man who was now running one of his hands down her leg.
I looked away feeling my already lousy mood worsen considerably. I knew what I wanted to do.
I wanted to get up, break the empty glass in my hand, and using one of the pieces, to cut the hands of that despicable man. But I knew there was nothing I could do: she was his at the moment, and I could only pretend I wasn't seeing anything happening. I looked to the side again and saw the man, who was now kissing her neck, trying to put his hand inside the short dress she was wearing. Before I tried to kill him, I saw Camila unceremoniously remove his hand.
—"I won't do anything here."—I heard her said.
Right. She was even a bit bossy as I remembered. Ironically, she twisted her demands to be enough for the man to give up on her, but it wouldn't be that easy.
—"Then let's go to your room, precious."—The bastard said.
For some reason the unknown man became, in less than five minutes, my mortal enemy.
I wanted to ran over him with a truck and then feed the rats with him. I wanted to put my "Muay Thai" classes on practice and break every bone in his body that the only thing left would be a toothless mouth full of blood. And the fact that arsehole is what most women would consider handsome, made me hate him even more.
I looked the other way because I didn't want to see Camila walking up the steps with anyone, to a place where they would do what I knew they would do.
—"Damn it."—I said in a low tone.
A girl passed by with a tray and I ordered another whiskey. I thought about the argument Ally and I had that day. I thought of Camila and that man who must be having more fun than I would like. I thought that maybe I could start a fire in that place, causing us all to die charred and unhappy, and then we'd all greet each other in hell.
I looked at the clock, and nine minutes had passed. Nine miserable minutes.
—"Hey! One more!—I ordered.
I drank my third one. And then a fourth one. And a fifth one. Some women tried to convince me to stay with them, but I refused them all. I was extremely angry and I knew why. It was simple, even if I didn't want to accept it.
She was giving herself to someone else.
She is a whore! What did you expect? My voice of reason said, provoking me.
What did I expect? Honestly, what I really wanted was for her not to indulge another person. And to be sitting on my lap! And for her not to be a whore!
But of course all those thoughts were to blame for my five glasses of whiskey. After scaring away the fifth girl who approached me that night and with the newly dose of whiskey ahead, I felt the presence of someone at the table next to me.
I turned my head and saw Camila, now with different clothes, her hair wet and to lose my madness, she used that characteristic perfume of hers. She sat up looking disgruntled, trying to open a bottle of water without success.
—"You had fun?"—I asked her.
She looked at me with what looked like shock and anger in her eyes.
—"You know I didn't!"—She looked away.
Yes, I knew she didn't enjoy it, but I was extremely irritated and wanted to take my anger out on someone.
—"He seemed quite interested in you."—I said bitterly.
--"Well, he wasn't exactly interested on my beautiful eyes or things like that."—She retorted angrier.
I looked at front and saw that a man was walking to her table, he was going to pay an appointment, I knew it.
Since I didn't have much to think about, I forcefully pulled Camila by her waist, sliding her body down closer to me, until she was almost onto my lap.
I held her with more force than necessary,
keeping her glued to me while I looked with hatred at that idiot, that now returned to the bar with a defeated look on his face.
—"Auch."
I didn't pay attention to her, still staring at the back of guy's back.
—"You're hurting me."—She complained.
—"I'm sorry."—I loosened my arm at her waist, but kept it there. We were silent for some time.
—"Thank you."
—"For what?"
—"You know..." - She left the sentence in the air, looking at the man already sitting at the bar.
—"You're welcome."—I spoke without emotion.
—"Everything is alright?"— She asked me.
—"All good."
—"You seem irritated."— She said trying to figure me out.
—"You're just imagining things."
—"Have you been drinking?"—I knew why she was asking that. It wasn't because of my breath, but because, when I got tipsy, I spoke in a slurred way.
—"I did."
—"How many?"
—"Two."—I lied.
She didn't seem to believe it.
—"Do you usually drink?"
—"What's this? Twenty questions?"
She shrugged next to me.
I wanted to apologize for my rudeness, but I didn't because I was angry.With everything. Even with her, for going with that bastard.
—"It's not an interrogation...But you shouldn't drink too much, it's not good."
—"You sound like my mother."
—"Just saying..."
I removed my arm from around her and pushed her to the side. She loose her balance for a moment.
—"Alright, Casanova from the bar. You should be drinking passion fruit juice, instead."
Camila looked at me like I was some kind of exotic animal. Then she straightened her posture by sitting up straight, sliding back onto the next table. When she finally managed to open the bottle of water, she took a drink and set it on the table, folding her arms like someone waiting for a bus. In the event that she expected a client, which I knew that sooner or later would happen.
—"Camz...I'm sorry."—I said, trying to apologize.
—"You shouldn't drink.—She spoke immediately-You become an idiot when you drink."
—"You were questioning me!"
—"I was just talking to you."—She said without looking at me.
—"People seem to want to give me moral lessons today."
—"I was just giving you an advice."—She replied.
—"Or that."—I pointed out.
We were silent again. She still wasn't looking at me, her arms crossed over her chest.
—"Can you forgive me?"—I pleaded to her.
I got a little off balance from the alcohol and only then did I notice that I was almost totally leaning towards her. She didn't answer.
—"You said you wanted me around!"—I said a little desperate.
Finally, she look at me.
—"I want you around when you're yourself, not after...I don't know how many whiskies."
Suddenly I felt extremely rejected.
Shit, I was really drunk.
—"Don't you want me around now?"—I asked her, like a lost puppy.
She looked at me, and finally said:
—"You're not going to drink anymore."
—"Alright."—I agreed.
Whatever her demand was, I would attend to it.
After a few seconds she still looked at me as she took the bottle from the table and slid back next to me. My arm automatically went around her again.
—"What happened to you?"—She asked.
Should I tell her what was going on with me?
Should I say that I was completely depressed and lost?
Should I mention the fact that I had thought of her while I was fucking another woman?
No. I was drunk, but hadn't completely lost my mind...yet.
—"My day was exhausting."—I said calmly as I slid forward and down on the seat, resting my head back and closing my eyes.
I felt Camila move a little, she opened some buttons on the top of my blouse, and then I could feel her fingers in my hair.
I opened my eyes slowly and saw her face very close to mine, as she played with my locks, probably making them more unruly, and looking directly into my eyes.
—"The executives are stressful."—She said in a low tone, and I could smell the peppermint smell on her breath.
—"You smell very good."
I said nonchalantly and saw her blush immediately.
I couldn't help but smile.
—"You look cute when you're embarrassed, you know?"
She smiled sheepishly and looked away.
I kept looking at her, detailing every spot on her face.
-"Why didn't you come yesterday?"—She asked, still touching my hair.
—"I had to go to a party."—I replied.
—"Apparently, it was a good party."
—"Why do you say that?"
—"If those things on your neck aren't hickeys, then someone hit you."
I felt ashamed as if I had done something wrong. I cleared my thoughts and tried to be smooth.
—"Oh. Are there any marks left? I didn't notice."
She didn't say anything, then sigh.
—"Was she good?"—She asked me.
—"Huh?"—I tried to play fool.
She stare at me with a look that said "You know what I'm talking about."
—"No, she wasn't good. Nor the party nor sex."
Camila smiled simply, but still looked a bit sad.
—"Well, next time wear a turtleneck.—She replied—You don't want people to think you're promiscuous."
I leaned my head on her shoulder, resting my face between her hair and her neck, and let myself be carried away by all that mixture of perfumes that emanated from Camila's body.
—"You're much better."
I spoke very softly, wondering if she had heard, because she didn't say anything after that.
After some time, I wasn't sure how long exactly, she spoke again.
—"Look, I would like to stay here with you, but Chloe has already pass by our table about three times and she's shooting daggers at me. I have to keep working..."
—"You're with me.—I answered without moving a single muscle—I'm your client."
—"It's just...people are finding it weird. If you were my client than we should be doing something..."
—"Then let's go to your room."
I break my embrace around her and stood a little weak, grabbing my jacket from the chair.
She just sat staring at me.
—"Relax, I'm not going to touch you."
She shook her head a little and then got up.
Camila took me by the hand and led me to upstairs as Chloe watched us from across the hall.
I won't touch her. I WON'T touch her.