Twelve Weeks Exactly
AUSTIN
The door clicks shut behind Maggie and the sounds of silence fill the room. I slowly lower myself to the bed and cradle my head in my hands to give it time to catch up to the rest of my body.
I almost fainted when I saw her drag her finger through my cum and bring it to her mouth. Stars appear in my eyes as I remember it now. That image will stay with me forever.
She is everything I could ask for in a sexual partner and it is killing me that it's just sex.
I would ghost TalkShopGirl in a heartbeat if Maggie asked me to because it hurts far too much to watch her walk away. I spot her hair clip on the nightstand and reach for it. I pinch it open and let it clip shut on my finger. The sharp pain is welcome. It distracts me from the pain of Maggie walking out.
It’s best that she did. Maggie loves her job, she’s good at it. She will never be able to look past the fact that I started AIM and made her work life incredibly more challenging.
I rub my hand down my face and feel the complexities of our situation close in on me. It feels like a fucked up version of If You Give A Mouse A Cookie. Everything rolls back to the fact that I created a product that she has to compete against.
AI Media did exactly what it was supposed to at the debate. I saw early numbers before Maggie came over and the response from the target demographics were better than we had expected. The language, the slight adjustments to Senator Quinn’s positions, and the additional factors we were able to sneak in resonated with voters.
The campaign lines and prepared speeches Maggie wrote did not perform as well. And it's not to say that the writing was bad, far from it, but it sounded rehearsed and prepared and people can smell planning a mile away.
It isn't Maggie's fault, it's just the current consumer landscape. People want what they want in an instant and they want it customized to them.
I was glad Maggie didn’t change before coming to my room. When I saw her before the debate in that body suit my reaction was visceral. It hugged every curve and then her pants hung off the globes of her ass and flowed down to black heels. I could only see half an inch of them, leaving the rest to my active imagination. I bit my lip to keep my tongue from rolling out like a dog.
I don't think she's dressing like that to get to me. I think this is how she always dresses. Always clean cut, muted colors that compliment her complexion and let her ideas shine.
People could only say that she dresses well. There's nothing flashy or controversial. It makes a statement by not making a statement.
I wonder if it's on purpose? She’s mentioned her boss getting attention for her clothing choices. Maggie strikes me as the type of person who would learn that lesson and apply it to herself.
I shake my head and toss the hair claw onto the nightstand again. Obsessing over Maggie is counterproductive. We won’t get together, and thinking otherwise is insane. I move across the suite and pick up the SMS Connect phone.
Whoever TalkShopGirl may be, she likes me as a person.
Unlike Maggie who couldn't get out of the room fast enough.
I was about to ask her to stay, to have a drink, to spend the rest of the night talking before we fell asleep in each other's arms but she cut off that line of questioning and jumped back into her clothes. I've never seen a woman move so quickly to get out of my bed.
And as painful as it is knowing my potential tabloid attention is the real reason they’re with me, it hurts more to have a woman I respect and admire jump ship after we share mind numbing sex.
I want Maggie Collins to like me. To respect me. To value my opinion. I want her to want me.
But since that doesn't seem likely in this lifetime I'm going to focus my attention back on SMS Connect and hope TalkShopGirl can wipe the hope of Maggie out of my brain.
DCFox: I can't seem to get you out of my mind. The figurative you. I'm almost dying here trying to guess what you look like, if your smile lights up a room like I imagine it does, if you hold your head high and speak clearly like the way your messages come across to me. If this connection we've built will engulf us when we meet in person.
So, what do you say? Can we meet in person?
Instead of turning the phone off like I usually do I leave it on the nightstand and mix a myself drink. I stare at it from near the window while I sip on my bourbon and finally throw back the final dregs of the liquor when an hour has passed without a response.
I climb into bed and stare at the ceiling until sleep takes over.
I’m jolted awake from a dreamless sleep when the SMS Connect phone pings next to my head. Sunlight is just starting to streak the sky and I grab it, and my glasses, at the same time.
TalkShopGirl: I'd love to set up a time to meet. Next week? Tuesday?
DCFox: Lapis in Adams Morgan at 8?
TalkShopGirl: See you then, I'll be wearing a red dress and I'llput this phone in a floral case on the table.
I grin from ear to ear. I have five days until I meet the woman who has built herself a home in my heart.