A knock came from Elaine’s office door. She rose, felt the tingling of a buzz, and opened the door.
“How did it go?” Michael, her partner for over ten years, entered with a smile.
She collapsed again on the couch and nearly spilled her drink. “Michael, what the fuck did you do to me?”
He laughed softly and closed the door behind him. “So you liked her?”
‘You’re evil,” she said. “The devil himself in pressed chinos and a polo shirt.”
“I thought you might find her…interesting.”
“She’s gay.”
“Yes.”
“She’s gorgeous.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Somehow you knew. Don’t be smug.”
“She was into you?”
She sat up and tucked her legs in under her. “You knew she would be. Did you know she requested this outfit?”
He sat next her and rested his cheek on his fist. “Maybe. It’s something you would’ve worn anyway.”
“That’s not the point.”
“What is the point? I asked her what she found the most appealing, and what she described was you.”
“Not Nancy?” Nancy was younger, sporty, sparky. Lesbians loved her.
“No, not Nancy.”
“What about Claire? She’s around my age.”
“Claire isn’t you. Claire would bore her. You are what she needs.”
“Michael, I can’t do this. You know I can’t do this.” She closed her eyes.
“Can’t do what? Feel?”
“Don’t fuck with me.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
She opened her eyes. They stared at each other for a long moment.
“You like her don’t you?”
She didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. She sipped her drink, wishing it could make her disappear.
“It’s okay to like her,” he said softly. “I thought you’d be thrilled at having a woman for a change. A gay woman to boot.”
“I’m not ready,” she said.
Michael sighed. “Elaine, it’s been five years.”
“Michael, don’t.” Her throat tightened. “Please.”
“Okay.”
“I have to end it.”
“Because you like her.”
“Because—because she likes me.”
“The men like you. What’s the difference? You help them.”
She shook her head with frustration. “It’s not the same.”
“Why not?”
She didn’t answer.
“Can you help her?”
She looked at him. Met his deep brown eyes. He was such a good guy. Had such a good heart. Why was he doing this to her?
She finished her drink and rose to get another.
“Elaine?”
She poured herself another glass. Took a long sip before she answered. “I don’t know.”
“I think you do.”
“Stop using my words against me.”
“Be certain when you speak. Even if you don’t feel it.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Tell me.”
“Yes, I think I can help her.”
“Then you must.”
She sank into her desk chair. “It’s not a good idea.”
“Then end it and date her.”
She balked, struck at his forwardness.
“I’m serious. Either suck it up and help her, like you do all your clients. Or end it and ask her out.”
He stood and approached the door.
“How about I just end it?” she said, holding up her glass to him.
He pressed his lips together in disappointment. “That would be running. And you’ve done enough of that for many lifetimes.” He opened the door and walked out, leaving her alone with her scotch and swirling thoughts.
“Fuck.”
She stared after him, half wanting to throw the glass at the door, half wanting to down it quickly. Instead she did neither, and placed it on her desk. The candles still burned, causing shadows to dance along the walls. She pictured Riot standing before her with her eyes closed. She remembered allowing her gaze to linger as it moved up and down her body. Her T-shirt had been tight, showing off a flat stomach and ample breasts. The jeans were loose, hanging off her hips, showing just a peak of her underwear when she breathed deeply.
She felt her skin flush with desire again, burning hotter this time, fueled by alcohol. She thought of Michael’s words. End it and date her. End it and date her.
She couldn’t do that.
She wasn’t ready. Probably never would be. The idea brought on anxiousness and a need to flee. Michael was right; she was a runner. But there was no use changing her ways now. She needed to get out of there. Get her mind right again. She grabbed her phone and opened her dating app. She scrolled through her possibilities. No. Not her. Not her. I need younger, no a bit older. Blonde. Yes.
She sent a message.
The woman didn’t look exactly like Riot, but she was close enough. She knew what she was doing and what it meant, but she didn’t care. She had to do it to make the madness stop. She never claimed to be the healthiest person around, Michael knew that. She had her issues just like anyone else. But what Michael didn’t like was how she handled hers.
She left the scotch and rose to sling her purse over her shoulder. She crossed the room and blew out the candles, then locked her office door behind her. She walked down the hall and exited the building through the rear. Rain knocked on her umbrella as she hurried to her car. By the time she crawled inside and lowered her umbrella, her phone had dinged with a new message. She closed the door, called the service, and listened.
“Yeah, I’m Kyle, twenty-seven, five foot seven, short blond hair, brown eyes. I’m up for anything and everything. Looking for older women, fit and fine. Bi-curious okay with me. First time with a woman? Let me be the one. Call me at 602-555-1437.”
Elaine sat for a moment and watched the rain run down her windshield. She shouldn’t have drunk; that was a no-no. And the excitement of the session had been more than she was used to. And though she fought it, she could feel the desire coming on. The wise thing to do would be to go home. But home was the worst. Pain lived there. Festered there. It was often suffocating. She placed her palm on her heart and willed the fluttering to stop. After a few minutes of deep breathing, she felt a little better. With a new determination, she dialed the number and put the phone to her ear.