Disappear

She still did not know his name but the way that he looked at her that made Mathilde pause. He studied her face in a way that she was not sure that anyone had studied it. He looked at her like he did not know what she was. Like he could see her and everything that she tried to hide.

He was a bit too knowing, and she really wanted to leave him at that point but he held her and was holding her body close to his as he looked in her eyes. Mathilde wanted to scream, but she could not scream because what was that going to prove? He was not doing anything to her–just looking at her but that was too much.

She did not want to be seen.

When she was younger, she had a boyfriend who she used to attach herself to. There was no other way to describe how she was with him. She held his arm and pressed close to him all the time. He was her first, and she was very vulnerable with him.

It was too much for him, she scared him off and she never wanted to need anyone like that again. She never wanted to disappear into anyone like that again, the way she had with him. She remembered feeling him tense when she was holding him, and it was because he was sick of her.

Before Graham, she had changed so much, she never gave much of herself to anyone.

Certainly not her clients. 

It was easy for her to be with someone and then to roll over and leave. She wanted that now as the nameless man had let go of her, but continued to look into her eyes.

“What?” she smirked finally, she was going to regain control of this situation.

“What?” he copied her, and smirked back.

She just wanted him inside of her, like he had been and then she realized that she was still vulnerable all of the time. She wanted someone inside of her so she would not feel alone. But she knew that when she was with someone, that she was at risk for hiding in that person. 

Mathilde did not want to be seen.

In the mirror, she saw she hid behind long dark hair, and that Paris had darkened around her.

He wrapped pulled her close to him, and she closed her eyes.

She wanted to disappear even if it was into him.

For now.

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Spellbound

Journey’s song “Don’t Stop Believin’” played in the background, as Cleo texted Cadmus. He was like Pandora–once she opened the box, she could not get rid of him.

She kind of did not want to, or maybe it was that she was not able to be rid of him now. It was like the Shawn Colvin song “New Thing Now” — “It feels so good to doubt you I can almost live without but not quite…not quite.” she hummed as she continued to text him.

His life was always in disarray — that was how she got involved with him. They were friends first, and even if she could not live with him she still cared about him. She was happy that she was able to still care about him, but at times it was limiting. Yet it was still amazing to be so close to him, that their friendship superseded their partnership.

She loved him, she would always love him.

I just want you to be happy, she texted as she walked into the restaurant that she was going to.

Cadmus sat at the window texting, and stopped when he saw her with a smile on his face. The bubbles on her phone that indicated he was answering here stopped too. He stood up and held her close, and she melted into him. Cleo took in his scent, was almost spellbound because she knew his scent like it was her own. She knew their combined scent from when they made love, and she felt her legs weaken underneath her.

Thank you for coming,” he said, letting her go and she swayed.

She had no control over this situation, she would come whenever he asked her to come because she wanted to be there for him.

She would always be there for him.

“Of course,” she said, as he pulled her chair out for her to sit and she saw that he had already ordered the wine she loved because he knew her every move.

She saw Oscar’s name on her  phone screen, and let it go black as she smiled at Cadmus.

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Sunlight

It was as cliché as she could have imagined, lying in bed with the Parisian sunlight falling on her. On him too, this time she would not ask what his name was because she really did not want to know.

He was a bad sleeper so he was not holding her, and the sheets covered his body in a disarray. He did look sexy, and she had had a good time with him,

But Mathilde was ready to go.

Running down the stairs, ascertaining that she had her phone, purse and looked nothing like she had had a long night she left. 

A cafe a few blocks away looked like a good option for coffee, and she sat down with her cup and the extra chocolates she had not asked for. But the man who had placed them on her saucer just under the dolie smiled at her with each one, like it was an invitation.

Breakfast—those tiny chocolates and coffee were breakfast before she decided what she and Paris were going to do together.

“You could have at least gone to a cafe across town so you would have no chance of seeing me,” Mathilde cringed when she heard the statement from the man she had just left. The timbre of his voice rolled under her skin.

She looked up at him and smiled. He pulled a chair next to her.

“Why do I get the feeling that you are a grand escape artist?” he mused aloud.

“Like Houdini.”

“You tried to leave before anything even happened between us.”

“But you made me stay for a bit.”

Mathilde felt her traitorous body respond to his proximity. Daytime brought about his fresh cologne, and another crisp suit. The man behind the counter looked at her like she really was a traitor, as she placed a square of chocolate on her mouth.

“I did.”

“Don’t you have a conference to go to?”

“It is Saturday, so no. Nice to be on vacation and lose track of time like that!” he laughed.

Mathilde nodded as her mouth was flooded with decadent chocolate.

His kiss tasted like chocolate. Back in his bed, Mathilde looked up at him as he moved on top of her. He was not inside of her, but pinned her down with his naked body and she liked the feeling of it. She was wet from when she sat at the cafe with him, and the hunger between her legs meant she had had to touch herself quickly when she went to the bathroom to curb some of the ache.

She wanted him inside of her now, but he was intent on being slow and lazy about it. And being that she did not have anything to do that day, it was kind of nice to be lost.

For a little while.

 

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Cut the Cord

Cleo looked over at Oscar as he slept beside her, her discarded fishnets under her on the bed. She was restless. Her eyes were damp, as well as her temples. The state between sleep and wake was the most truthful in her experience. The dream that she just had about Cadmus had not changed her experience at all. 

She had been running from him in the dream—after they had made love. Cleo had made love to him from top to bottom with her mouth—his lips, his nipples, lower and lower until she reached his toes and then she ran away from him after she sucked his pinkie toe. Ashamed and sated, she hated herself for the feeling even still, woken up.

Cadmus had not been good for her. She broke up with him because they did nothing but fortify behaviors in each other that she did not want to enhance.

But she still missed him and loved him. It was obvious from her dream. If he called her in the middle of the night to talk to her, she would be there for him until she was watery-eyed and went to work a sleep-deprived mess. He needed to go over everything in his life with her, and she was too involved with him not to listen because she still cared about his every movement.

A notification flashed on her phone, she saw just the C and grabbed it because she wanted to know what he needed. 

What he wanted.

You up?

Her eyes moved over Oscar, as she touch typed in reply to his text. 

Yes—you okay?

I just wanted to run something past you…

She texted him about his newest quandary until she was exhausted and he finally texted he was falling asleep while texting her.

She lie on her side again looking at Oscar, and wondered if she really had anything to wonder about with him and Eliza, or was it because she knew that even while she was happy to be with Oscar she still had such strong residual for Cadmus? She and Cadmus were just friends now, but still, she had him in her life—needed him in her life.

She couldn’t cut the cord.

 

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Love Match

She left, she was happy that she had managed to leave because it had seemed that she was not going to be able to for awhile but she did.

She left Aaron before it got more tangled than it already was…

That was why Mathilde had left the last time—and every other time to avoid entanglement. This time she decided that she needed to leave the country. Once before she had wanted to go to Paris to forget everything, and everyone. There were people that she knew in Paris, but she was not going there for them.

One of them had died, and that person would have been the one person that she would have wanted to be with now. To talk about everything with.

Now she knew that she was going to be on her own.

Her French was light but she executed it like a gun, so it was easy for her to move about and not have people answer her back in English. Sitting in a hotel bar however, of course she met an American who she could tell was going to hit on her. Lucky for him he was kind of attractive so she was not immediately going to shoot him down.

He put down his international New York Times after a time, and she braced herself.

“Can I get you a free drink?” he gestured to the complimentary bar.

Mathilde smiled. Most of the men that she hooked up with lately–even before Aaron—were dressed in suits. Seeing a man in a suit now was like an aphrodisiac, she felt it swell between her legs.

“What are you drinking?” she asked with a twisted smile.

He looked at her quizzically.

“Bourbon.”

She took his glass, and took a sip.

“I’ll have mine neat,” she nodded.

He poured her a glass that mirrored his, and they clinked glasses. He looked her up and down, she could smelled the bourbon on his breath when he talked to her about the conference that he was in Paris for. Mathilde surveyed his hands–no ring but that did not mean anything. Did it really matter to her? She was not trying to make a love match.

His eyes were soft and glazed as he looked at her–she knew that look. His hands on the keys to his room. She got up and her hip almost touched his mouth, she felt him touch her even though she knew he was not that brave.

That was why she was leaving.

“No,” he said, and dropped his keys. 

Mathilde laughed, and stepped her high-heeled foot next to the fallen keys.

“No?” she arched an eyebrow.

“Don’t go.”

“Make me stay.”

He got up, and she saw the darkness of his shadow fall over her like sunset.

 

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Fishnets

Cleo wore fishnets that day, and she was startled when she saw Eliza come into her office. First of all, Eliza worked from home now mostly to be with Bibi, and secondly Eliza was also wearing fishnets.

It seemed so odd that she and Eliza had on the same thing. They did not wear it the same, but they were both wearing fishnets and Cleo felt awkward.

She was not sure how to explain it, but Eliza intimidated her. They were friendly, more than friendly if she could go to her apartment and start dating one of her friends. But she sensed that she had crossed a line maybe. Eliza was not any less inviting, but there was something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

Sometimes she thought about the fact that she saw Eliza and Oscar walk out of a darkened room at Bibi’s birthday party. She put it out of her mind again, as soon the thought returned. No one would sleep with a lover in the middle of their daughter’s birthday party with her husband there!

Or maybe Cleo just did not want to think it could be anything because she wanted Oscar. 

Thinking about Oscar, Cleo remembered why she put on those fishnets. It was because when she was getting dressed that morning—after they had made love almost as soon as he got up—he caressed her legs and told her that he did not think she would ever wear fishnets. He was right—she liked hosiery without patterns. She preferred to wear the patterns on her clothes. But just to let him know that he did not know everything about her, she wore them. Went to the pharmacy, and changed the smooth hosiery she wore when she left him.

“I got the memo last night,” Eliza said to her, and gestured to her legs. Cleo was delayed on catching the joke.

Later, Oscar tore her fishnets right off of her. His finger pushed through the grid of the tights and he slipped his finger inside her. Cleo was wet, there was nothing about that for her to hide. He fucked her so fast with his finger, she almost passed out when she came.

“I like you in fishnets,” he said, as she heaved breathlessly.

 

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Ghosting

Mathilde hated it, but she was still with Aaron and she did not want him to go if she was honest at the moment. If at least for sex—she still wanted to have sex with him.
She still wanted to have sex period.
Just because she had left everything did not mean that she was not still a human, that she did not still have human urges. In bed with Aaron at his hotel room, where he still was because he had blown off his flight that morning she wanted him inside of her and she wanted him to be rough with her. He was not necessarily rough, but he was very specific about what he wanted from her and she gave it to him.
She just wondered when she would ghost him.
She was ghosting before it was a thing in Urban Dictionary—she just left when she was ready, and became someone else.
But she was not ready to do that yet, sitting cross-legged on Aaron’s bed where he surprised her and instead of takeout or room service he cooked. Mathilde was not opposed to cooking when she had time, she would not have had time if there was room service to be ordered for sure!
He placed a disposable plate in front of her, and served her crispy orange chicken that was better than anything she had ordered from a Chinese restaurant, so good and filled with vegetables that she did not need rice.
She ate with chopsticks that he had in his suitcase.
“You keep chopsticks in your suitcase?” she asked him.
Aaron looked at her, his eyes sliding down her body.
“I travel a lot, so I cook a lot in hotels and need condiments and utensils for when I do so I keep them
in my suitcase.”
Mathilde got up and opened his suitcase. There was takeout residue at the bottom, like she might have found on the kitchen counter of her own apartment when she was not a hotel nomad.
As she was bent over the suitcase, Aaron curled over her and she felt her underpants shift against him before he forthright pulled them down her. He made it such a domestic scene between them, cooking for her in and out of bed. Her legs straddled his as he moved in and out of her in the bed, both of them looking far from sexy in regular underwear in the mirror but their faces revealed their deep pleasure.

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Valentine

Oscar took her out to a fusion pasta restaurant that she loved. Bibi was asleep in her stroller, her breathing soft and visible. Eliza touched her daughter’s lips, before she twirled some spaghetti on her own fork.

This was her valentine from Oscar. He made a gesture for every holiday, and she enjoyed spending time with him. She loved seeing him with Bibi, and she could tell that Bibi loved him as well.

“Those were gorgeous flowers you got Cleo,” She said to him, looking in his eyes. “We skyped today and she showed me.”

Oscar nodded, and she knew that she did not have any place even mentioning Cleo to him but she saw the flowers. Saw their relationship was developing, and she was not sure that she wanted Cleo that close to her. Because if Cleo was in a relationship with Oscar she was going to have to know about them.

She would have you know if Eliza was still sleeping with him…

“We met at your parties, she’s not what I was expecting…”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s quirky.”

Eliza smiled because she did not want to say anything more. She wanted him to have a relationship that he enjoyed—especially after Chloe.

On her side much later, bracing the wall, Eliza groaned softly as Oscar moved in and out of her. It felt too good—better than when they had sex at Bibi’s birthday party. He was rougher than usual—she craved it. He squeezed her breast and bit her neck as he came closer and closer. Eliza lost it with all of the sensation, and cried out—covering her mouth almost immediately because she did not want to wake Bibi up.

Oscar covered her mouth when her hand fell away, and squeezed her breast harder which made her bite the inside of his hand and he came as she did. They both pressed closer together. He squeezed her breast even more and she murmured gibberish. 

It was bliss.

 

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Aaron

His name was Aaron.

Even as she tried to keep it anonymous—and Mathilde had been successful for the most part….Aaron lingered for the early morning after they were together, but she escaped him with a kiss. A long lingering kiss, him pressing him up against the door jamb naked and neither of them caring if anyone walked through the hallway and saw them. The doorjamb was between her buttocks, as he caressed every inch of her body like he was memorizing her.

She remembered him as she got dressed after he left, it had been an amazing night and she had forgotten how nice it was to be with someone more than once even if it was over the course of the night. And she was thankful for it.

And then he came back, Mathilde gawked at him and he took her hand.

“Good you are dressed, let’s have breakfast,” he said.

What could she say, she was hungry but she did not want to eat with him and his colleagues.

“You go, have breakfast with your colleagues,” she smiled.

“They all had early morning flights—frankly so did I but I blew it off…”

She walked with him, and they got into his car. The drive was picturesque. Mathilde loved big cities, and this city was big for where she was but not like New York where she had lived most of her adult life. In New York, she did not see the scene that she saw with the sky so vast and the sun blowing kisses at her.

The sun was still blowing kisses as she sat in the dinner with him.

“What is your name?” he asked, and his long legs touched her bare ones under the booth.

“Mathilde,” she said easily, not looking up at him  taking a mouthful of scrambled eggs. 

“Look at me, I love your eyes.”

She looked at him, and it was on right away. 

There was a small puddle of people in the diner and the food was amazing. Mathilde got up to go to the bathroom, and he followed her—she felt him behind her. 

It was a tiny room, and she looked at him. 

“I really have to pee!” she said, and he nodded.

“I want to watch you.”

“Get out of here!”

“No, it turns me on. It is a fetish of mine.”

Mathilde really had to go, and had no time to play with him. She pulled up her dress and squatted over the bowl looking in his eyes. He really did look turned on, he adjusted himself as she wiped herself and he took her hand again to kiss it and lick her fingers before she could wash her hands.

“Do you have to go?” she asked flirtatiously.

He nodded and she really did like to watch a man use the bathroom she realized, even if she would not call it a fetish. He zipped up, and she wrapped her arms around his waist.

Their trip back to the booth was awkward since there were so few people in the diner, but they smiled at each other and held hands when they got back to the table. Their friendly waitress gave them a knowing smile as she placed their check on the table and poured more coffee.

“No rush,” she said.

 

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gorgeous image by Molly!

 

 

Heated

Cleo looked at the roses on her desk, and took in their sweet scent. They were from Oscar and she could not have been happier. From the moment that she saw him at Eliza’s for a party, she wanted him. She had always liked him to be honest, they had a brief moment at Bibi’s party when he looked at her—really looked at her even though he had met her several times before.

But that day, he looked a little dazed, and when she started talking to him he looked more engaged and that was all she needed. At Eliza’s last dinner party, he was even more engaged with her and they exchanged numbers—for work.

But Cleo knew as soon as she had his number that she was going to get him in some fashion. He asked her out shortly after—because she almost beat him on the head with her interest without even saying it, but it could not have been clearer. 

On their first date they went to see a surrealist show at a small gallery that they both loved. It seemed even more surreal to her that she was with him. By a Kay Sage painting, they were almost pressed together and he kissed her. She braced herself against the wall, knocked the painting a little and a security guard ran over. Cleo was hot with embarrassment, she felt like the woman who had kissed a Twobley in France though she had not hurt the Sage painting at all.

Oscar took her aside in the dark hallway, and he kissed her again. His hands under her dress, Cleo almost melted like a piece that was part of the show that was an ode to Dalí’s Persistence of Memory. Her soft moans brought another security guard to come look after them, and she was hot with even more embarrassment.

Even hotter for Oscar, she went home with him. She had wanted that all along—she would have skipped the paintings. She had a Kay Sage at her apartment that her father had won at an auction once. It was in her bedroom, and the surrealism ruled as they made love.

Cleo took in the scent of the roses, and heated up all over.

 

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kay sage danger, construction via wikipedia