“You’re wonderful at what you do,” I said honestly.
“And you look good.” She said moving to stand next to me.
“What’s this suit for?” I asked.
“It’s a side project I’m working on. Now stand still, I’m going to take some photos.”
She spent a few moments directing me in different poses as her camera snapped. I wasn’t a professional, but I stood still and followed directions as best I could.
She got closer to me, seemingly taking headshots. I turned and used my hand to pull the camera down slowly then tilted her head forward. Her eyes went wide for a moment but then she set her camera down. I wanted to chase the good feeling while I still had it. Before my thoughts could ruin it.
Lifting my hand, I cupped her cheek. I kissed her, soft and quick at first. Then I went deeper. My mind went blank, but it wasn’t like when I couldn’t focus. It was like my mind was finally calm for the first time in weeks. Each time I kissed Lydia I felt a kind of peace. Each time I tried to since my parents showed up, I was worried I’d taint that peace. Dropping my hand, I put my hands on her waist and drew her closer, but I wanted more. I slipped my hands under her shirt and pressed my fingertips into her warm skin. She responded by rubbing a leg against my calf. I felt my desire stir at the movement. She always kissed like she wanted to get closer, to get so close we would meld into each other.
“I don’t want to get caught again,” she said breathily against my jaw when we parted to breathe.
“This time I won’t open the door. For anyone.”
I got changed as quickly and carefully as I could. Even if I was worried that I’d run out of steam, I didn’t want to ruin her work. In the elevator down she kept her arms wrapped around my arm, like she was afraid I’d run off.
The car ride was interesting as I had to keep my eyes on the road while she kept teasing her fingertips over my arms and drawing swirls that made goosebumps break on my skin.
We got in the house and I locked the door. This time I wasn’t going to let anything distract us. I wanted to scoop her into my arms and carry her to our room. It was going to be our room now. But I let her take my hand and run-pull me up the steps. She looked excited and ready.
We got in the bedroom and locked the door. I was about to slip my shirt off once again but her hands on my arms stopped me.
“Let me.” She took the edge of the shirt and pulled it slowly over my head, revealing myself to her once again. She ran her hands over my pecs and over my shoulders.
“You like what you see?” I smirked.
“I should have gotten you to model for me sooner.” She peered up at me.
It was her turn. I helped her take off her top. I didn’t think about it often, but she had a wonderful chest. I moved to kiss her again, cupping her right breast in my hand. She let out a deep sigh as I teased the delicate skin, and I pulled a gasp from her as my fingers slid under her bra to brush against her nipple.
“Get it off.” I didn’t need much more than that. I reached around to unclasp her bra letting her breasts fall out against my chest as she pulled me in for a quick deep kiss. While our tongues met, her hands wandered down to my waist and began unbuckling my belt. I heard the zipper creep down and then she was hooking her fingers in the waistband beginning to pull them down.
“Lydia.” She immediately broke the kiss and moved her hands away. She backed up, worry clear in her eyes.
“I can’t.” My voice shook. I felt tears spring to my eyes. I hadn’t cried in years.
“I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.” I stumbled back to the bed and leaned against it. I shoved my hands in my face and let the tears leak out my screwed shut eyes and drip between my fingers. Lydia was going to see I wasn’t what she wanted now.
“Taylor.” I felt the bed dip as she sat down. I peeked from behind my hands to see her wearing my shirt and close enough to reach out, but far away enough that I didn’t have to touch her if I didn’t want to.
“I’m sorry Lydia I can’t. This is all wrong.”
“What’s wrong?” She asked, her voice too understanding, she should have left as soon as I broke down.
“I’m using you Lydia. I am using you.”
“Why do you think that?”
“I paid you to be in this relationship. I just wanted to use your need for investors to get what I want. This relationship is built on that. I am using you. I am just like her.”
“Just like who?” She asked, calmly, like she knew already.
“I’m just like my mother.” Saying it out loud what I had been thinking for weeks gave me some kind of horrible relief. It felt true hearing it said out loud. I had been justifying my actions for weeks, but it had to be true. I used Lydia. I lived in fear for years that I would become just like her. I didn’t want a partner if I was going to be just like her. I didn’t want kids if I was going to become a monster like her.
“You don’t have to tell me,” She said, her voice small. “But I don’t think you are like her. I don’t think that at all.”
“No.”
