1.
T he
glass felt colder today then it did yesterday. Becky took her hands away, just
for a second, and she saw perfect outlines of her hands, the heat leaving its
print. It would eventually fade and leave no real mark, but in another couple
months, when the real cold weather would arrive, those handprints would be
there until someone cleaned them off.
It made Becky think of him ,
of Bradley.
The handprints he left on her,
literally and emotionally, all in a good, pleasure filled, sexual way.
“How’s my beautiful woman today?”
Bradley asked.
He stepped up behind Becky, staring
out the window of his office with her. His left hand moved around to Becky’s
stomach and he pulled, resting Becky against his body. This wasn’t done just
to give Becky the honor of feeling Bradley’s perfectly kept body. He thrust
himself, to prove his real purpose.
Bradley was hard.
Becky sighed and thought, again? but she couldn’t resist herself as she smiled.
Again wasn’t always such a
bad thing.
Somewhere inside, Becky she knew it
would end. It had to end, right? Even people in fairy tales or television
shows who are good fortuned always have something come to an end. It’s just
the cycle of life. Look at the leaves outside right now. The same ones Bradley
had pointed out the first day they were together were all dead now. The crisp
autumn colors had come with a wave of beauty and were now holding on by a
narrow thread. The smallest breeze sent hundreds – if not thousands – of more
leaves floating to the ground. The leaves on the ground were trampled or
thrown out, a few lucky piles left for the play of children.
The cycle of life.
Creation. Life. Death.
Right now Becky was well into the life stage of her cycle with Bradley.
He was absolutely alive, and well.
His sex proved that as it pressed
against Becky’s backside and felt like it was curling under her, his defined
tip desperate to touch her warmth.
“You’ve been listening so well,”
Bradley whispered. He moved hair behind Becky’s ear and kissed her earlobe.
When he did this, Becky always
closed her eyes and wished it could happen forever. Just that subtle move was
enough to break her into anything he wanted. As long as he did that. Yes.
“We’ve had fun, haven’t we?”
“Of course,” Becky replied.
Bradley’s hand ventured away from
Becky’s hair down to her backside. He cupped her right cheek and squeezed,
causing Becky to jump.
She could still feel a tender sting
of pain.
“Sorry if I was a little rough last
night. I tend to really get into things… especially my deals.”
Bradley smiled and Becky could see
him reflecting off the glass. Outside, it was cloudy and dark, looking like it
was deciding between a late October rain or a late October (early season)
snow.
Becky wasn’t smiling.
She hated when Bradley referred to
them as a deal or a transaction .
Her heart felt differently, but the
good news was that her heart remained silent. If she dared to speak that out
loud, Bradley would kindly explain how life is just business.
It must have just been the mindset
of the young billionaire, a man inept with power and success and an
overwhelming command of respect without speaking a single word.
People never came into Bradley’s
office.
They rode the elevator together,
usually in silence, down to a waiting car. Becky sometimes would forget they
were in an office because she never got to see the rest of the building. She
really didn’t care about the rest of the building, she only cared about Bradley
touching her.
His hand on her ass crept up and
his fingers moved into her pants. Four of his fingers pulled at her flesh,
forcing his hand down to cup her bare skin now. His hand on her stomach
started to move too, going under her shirt. At first, he remained on her
stomach, gently moving for a few seconds, but then he moved down. Bradley
impressively moved just
Angela B. Macala-Guajardo