I personally prefer us as “Andrew & Aubrey” because on a night like tonight, when there’s nothing I would rather do than fuck you against my balcony until you cum, at least I can actually picture what your pussy feels like and no longer have to imagine.
Pick up the phone…
—Andrew
I shook my head and set the phone down, mentally erasing that message and stepping into the tub.
I lay back and let the hot water rise to my chest, exhaling as it warmed my skin.
It was becoming easier to avoid thinking about Andrew now that I was talking to Brian, but it was harder trying to force myself to forget. I still thought about him late at night when I was in my bed, often wishing he was inside of me.
Nonetheless, I wasn't running back to him and his asshole-ish ways, and I would never allow him to come back to me.
Never.
I scrubbed myself clean with a soft loofah, trying my best to ignore the intense throbbing between my legs that always came when thinking about Andrew. I filled a ladle with water and poured it over my head—unable to push away the thought of Andrew washing my hair in the tub, of him telling me to stand underneath the streams and hold the wall as he grabbed my waist and fucked me from behind.
My fingers found their way to my clit as I remembered him bending me over the vanity in his bathroom, saying “I need you to fucking take it…All of it…” as he palmed my breasts and kissed his way down my spine.
I rubbed my clit in circles—shutting my eyes as I pictured his lips on mine, moaning as it swelled with every caress.
“Ahhhh….” I felt my nipples hardening as the water cooled, and I was close—so close, to coming, but my phone rang.
Andrew?
I immediately stood up and wrapped myself in a robe, rushing to answer it—telling myself that I could pick up his call “just this once.”
“Hello?” I held the phone up to my ear without looking at the screen.
“ Aubrey?” It was Brian.
“Hi…” I sighed, trying to mask my discontent. “How are you?”
“Is this a bad time? You sound kind of upset.”
“I’m not upset. I was just getting out of the bath.”
“Oh, well good,” he said. “Did you use the relaxation kit I bought you?”
“I did.”
“Did you also think about me?”
“Yes…” I lied, feeling slightly guilty. “How was rehearsal?”
I walked to my dresser and slipped into a T-shirt, listening to him recount the many ways that Mr. Ashcroft was the devil reincarnate.
“He’s worse than Mr. Petrova.” I pulled my hair into a ponytail.
“Worse than Paul Petrova?” He laughed. “I don’t believe you. I’ve seen that man’s documentary, seen him make grown men cry.”
“Well, maybe years ago. Don’t get me wrong, he’s still rude and overbearing, but he has a layer of softness that Mr. Ashcroft lacks.”
“I’ll take your word for it…” He cleared his throat. “How tired are you right now?”
“Not too tired, shockingly.”
“Well…I wanted to talk to you tonight because I needed to know if you wanted to try something new in our relationship.”
“Sure.” I climbed into bed. “What is it?”
“Phone sex…” His voice became deeper. “Have you ever done that before?”
I held back a laugh and quickly took off my shirt, tossing it to the floor. “Yes.”
“Would you want to do it with me? Like, right now?”
“Yes.” I grabbed my vibrator from a box and slipped under the covers, happy that I wouldn’t need to think about Andrew to have an orgasm anymore. “Yes, I would like that very much.”
“Good,” he said. “Well…”
Silence.
“Well, what? Are you there, Brian?”
“Sorry, I was taking off my shorts.” He hesitated. “So, what are you wearing?”
“Nothing…I’m naked.”
“You’re naked, Aubrey?” He sounded as if he didn’t believe me. “Are you sure you’ve had phone sex before? This is the part where you’re supposed to tell me that you have on lingerie. Work with me, please.”
“Okay…I’m wearing a black thong and a black—”
“No, not black. I don’t like black. Try blue, navy blue.”
“Okay, it’s a navy blue thong and a blue bra.”
“Yeah, that’s more like it. Now, take off the panties with one hand.”
I lay there motionless, not sure as to whether I should turn on my vibrator or not.
“Now, imagine me...” He groaned. “Imagine me impaling you with my cock—so deep inside of you, so deep…”
I sighed.
“Can you picture it?” His voice became hoarse. “I need you to picture it…and touch your vagina.”
“ What?”
“Your vagina. Touch it.”
I stood up and put on a pair of pajama pants.
“Are you touching it, babe?”
“Ohhh yeah…” I pulled a sweater over my head. “I’m touching my vagina…”
“Are you thinking about me licking your folds? Running my tongue along your ass crack?”
“Brian, you’re actually…” I shook my head. “You’re breaking up…”
“I’m going to stroke you down real good with my tongue, babe. Then I’m going to ram my cock into you again and again—never stopping even if you say no…You can’t say no…”
I grabbed a sheet of paper and crumpled it next to the phone. “I can’t hear you anymore, Brian…Reception in my bedroom is getting really bad….” I hung up in the middle of his panting and scrolled through my old emails—breaking down and reading the old messages from Andrew, the only man who could ever make me cum with words…
Whether I hated him or not, I needed a release and I knew this was the only way…
Stay (n.):
A court-ordered short-term delay in judicial proceedings.
Andrew
“Mr. Hamilton?” The flight attendant tapped my shoulder. “All of the other passengers have departed the plane sir. Thank you for flying first class, and I hope you enjoy New York.”
“I’ll try.” I stood up and grabbed my briefcase from the overhead bin.
I’d tried to get out of coming here for weeks, but it was to no avail. The second I booked my ticket, I canceled all of my consultations and meetings, asked for an extension on my current case, and packed one suitcase. Just one.
I didn’t need to be in this city longer than a day, and I refused to even testify. I was going to submit a written testimony to the judge and immediately return to Durham.
As I walked through the airport, I noticed that a few things had changed, but not as much as I’d hoped. People still walked at a breakneck pace, the air still reeked of failure, and the top newspaper was still The New York Times.
I placed a few dollars into the paper machine, twisting the key so it could spit out my copy, and then I flipped to the middle section where the justice pieces were kept.
There it was. Section C. The story that covered the entire page:
Another Hearing in the Ongoing Hart Triaclass="underline"
Henderson to Testify This Week
I skimmed the article, slightly impressed that the journalist was writing facts this time and not smearing my name for the hell of it.
I also noticed there were still no pictures of me.
Figures…
“Over here, Mr. Hamilton!” A brunette waved as I stepped off the escalator. “Over here!”
I walked over and she held out her hand.
“I’m Rebecca Waters, lead attorney.”
“I know who you are.” I offered her a firm shake. “How fast can we get to the judge’s chambers?”
“The judge’s chambers?” She raised her eyebrow. “I’m supposed to check you into the hotel so we can discuss your testimony…You’re supposed to stay here for a couple weeks.”