The Perfect Gift

“Well, I guess you could say that,” I said, grinning.

“I see your name everywhere now. Zoe Maxwell… Zoe Maxwell … Zoe Maxwell. Book signing here, personal appearance there, author meet and greets… Add to that yet another bestseller. Congrats.”

“Thank you, Andrew,” I said, feigning modesty. “And thank you for your glowing reviews.”

“I’ve enjoyed all your books but I must say, the one with Jenny and Jake, now that story is my favorite. I gave it 5-stars, I believe, which I am sure helped sales quite a bit. Tell me, how do you come up with such steamy sex scenes?”

“Well, I just…”

“There you are!” A woman literally yelled at me from across the room. Shit. I recognized the shrill voice of Carla Grogan, a PR agent who had been pressing me for my business for years. I took a deep breath and held the plastic smile as she approached.

“Carla,” I said as she gave me an air kiss on each cheek. “So nice to see you. How have you been?”

“Oh, I’m fine, but let’s talk about you. I hear you’re leaving for Costa Rica to write a new hot romance series for Roland House?” she said, hand squeezing my arm. “Do they pay you to go there?”

“Well, no, I pay for it,” I said, frowning at the question. “The next book series takes place in Costa Rica and since I’ve never been there, I’d like to get a feel for the country, the lifestyle. So that’s where I’m headed.”

“Lucky you! And your latest book, Pleasing Him. Oh my god, I loved it! It’s like this sexy love affair slash erotic S&M thing with all the… “

“Zoe?”

I turned around as a great sigh of relief escaped my lips when I saw Graham Elliott, an executive at Roland House, my publisher, approach with his arms out. Graham was tall, thin, and as usual, impeccably dressed. His hair had gone silver when he was in his thirties, twenty-something years ago, but his face was tanned, youthful, and free of lines. Graham would have been the perfect man for me—older, reliable, handsome, successful—if he hadn’t been gay.

“Graham, darling, how have you been?” I gave him a hug and whispered in his ear. “Save me, please.”

“Nice to see you, Zoe,” he said with a knowing wink. He nodded at Carla and Andrew. “Carla, Andrew.”

They wrinkled their noses at him and said his name as if it left a bad taste in their mouths. In unison, they said, “Graham.”

“Andrew and Carla, it was nice seeing both of you,” I said, backing away. “But I have to call it a night.” I glanced at my watch as if it were a countdown to midnight clock. “Graham, we should meet for drinks or dinner before I leave.”

“Yes,” he nodded. “I’d love that.”

“Well, you all have a good night and I’ll see you all later.”

I waved from over my shoulder as I bolted toward the exit, keeping my head down to avoid eye contact with anyone else.

I burst out the door, sucking in the crisp night air as I asked

the doorman to please hail a cab for me. I stood off to the side, waiting, trying to go unnoticed. I didn’t want to talk to anyone else.

I just wanted to get away from all these horrible people and the memory of Mark in the bathroom. And with any luck, the memory of Mark himself.

* * *

I don’t even recall the ride home. It was a blur. A complete blur. I felt awkward and confused. I wanted to talk to Mark but at the same time, I never wanted to see him again. He had no right to be in that bathroom, whether I was his mistress or not. There were boundaries in any relationship, though Mark would never let such things stop him from getting his way. Still, the sex had been amazing. I had actually orgasmed, something I rarely did with Mark.

Typically, with Mark, it was, “wham bam thank you, ma’am” and then he was gone before I could catch my breath. I was always left to finish myself off. I could still feel the orgasm from tonight shaking through my knees. I’d only been manhandled like that by one other man in my life: Chad Walters, my college boyfriend who I hadn’t seen in years.

Chad was a control freak, but in a good way. It was always his way or the highway. The sexual positions were always of his choosing and rarely, if ever, did he give me any form of control. He liked it rough and so did I. He liked to play and explore and he let me know over and over how he was in control. Sometimes his nature got on my nerves, but ultimately the sex was so fucking great I didn’t care who was in control. I would have left him sooner if I hadn’t been so addicted to his cock.

After a while, though, I began to feel used by Chad and that was how I was feeling now with Mark. I felt I had no choice but to leave. A few months in Costa Rica would do me a world of good.

After college, I took a job a few states away on purpose and cried the entire drive there. I felt horrible for breaking things off with Chad. I felt horrible for leaving him the way I did. I loved him. I really did. And he loved me and there I was running away.

Chad called and begged me to return several times, which was so unlike him. It almost made me think the whole control thing was just an act and that he really cared for me. Gradually, however, time and distance took their toll and we slipped away from each other. The last time he called, I didn’t even answer the phone and he didn’t bother to leave a message.

Even though he was gone, Chad had never strayed far from my mind. It still hurt to hear his name and every relationship I’d had since, didn’t compare to what we shared. We shared some intimate moments that were better kept secret. But sometimes secrets knife you until they bleed free. And that’s what happened to me.