Getting Her Back

I finish packing up all my supplies, and throw my bag on my shoulder. Kelsey gives me a small wave, and says, “Good luck.”

“Yeah, I think I’m going to need it.”

“Why?””

“He told me yesterday that he wants to draw me like this,” I gesture to the way the class is set up, “as a kind of retaliation.”

She starts laughing. “Yeah, I think that you will definitely need it. I saw the way that he was looking at you. I would melt if he was looking at me like that. And he hasn’t even started drawing you.”

“I think that’s the idea. I’ll see you on Friday?”

She smiles. “See you then.”

I’m bouncing with nerves the entire way to the Upper West Side. I can’t get his words out of my head—what he’s going to do. I am aching between my legs, caught on his visceral promise. This passion, this sudden obsession with him feels even more powerful than when we first got together.

When I finally get to the apartment, it’s strange. Every time I’ve been here before, Christian has been waiting for me. It feels empty now, but I can use it to my advantage. I have at least a couple of minutes, so I poke around the apartment. I haven’t been able to see the whole thing before.

The kitchen is still gorgeous, the living room perfectly decorated, and of course, I’m familiar with the bedroom. But the other rooms in the apartment include an office to kill for with a stunning view of the Hudson river, what looks like a library—as if you can actually have a library in a New York apartment—and another bedroom.

I never really stopped to wonder why or how Christian had access to this apartment. I never thought to ask, but I might now. This apartment is stunning, and I can’t imagine the amount of money it costs to rent it for every day that we meet. Given the neighborhood and the building we’re in, it might be thousands of dollars. That’s a lot, even for a CEO.

After examining every part of the apartment, and reveling in the perfect views, I’ve taken enough time that he might be here soon.

Of course, nothing bad is going to happen if he shows up and I still have my clothes on. But the way he said it…like it was the only thing he wanted in the world…makes me want to do it. I want it to be exactly the way he imagined it, so that everything goes the way he planned.

Along with his little adventures, Christian has always had a powerful imagination. And when things go as planned, I’ve found that it’s usually impressive, fun, and incredibly pleasurable. Besides, if I don’t do it, he’s going to wonder if something is wrong. And once Christian think something’s wrong, all bets are off. He’ll ask me why, and he’s going to want to know.

In spite of my realization, I am just not ready to broach the conversation of the way I feel about him. Does it matter that I thought of him as my boyfriend? I don’t know. It should matter. But I’m not sure it will. It feels like there’s almost an insurmountable gap between the two of us, our present, our past, and our future. I push it out of my head. I can’t think about this right now. Rather, I don’t want to. Christian will be here any minute, and when he is, we’re going to make a baby. I’ve said that to myself before, but I feel it tonight. There’s a certainty that I hope is true and not just my wishful thinking.

Christian didn’t give me any instructions as to where I should be when he arrives, only that I shouldn’t be wearing any clothing. I head into the bedroom and strip down to nothing. This gives me a chance to fold my clothes without having them ripped off at least, I think with a laugh.

But it feels strange, I’ve never been one of those people who just wanders around their house naked. I know there are people who do that, but it’s always seemed unnecessary. So when I wander back into the living room—stark naked—I’m not exactly sure what to do with myself. I’m almost embarrassed, even though I’m alone. I don’t know where to put my hands, and I’m not sure if I should sit on the furniture.

I go to the library, grab a book, and come back. I sit on the couch, though I debate whether or not I should put a towel down. Is this what this apartment is used for? Are there other people who have sat here naked, waiting for their lovers? I realize I’m nervous. It’s why my brain is all over the place.

The book I grabbed was random, and it turns out it’s a book of essays. Essays have always been hit or miss for me. They’re either fascinating and engrossing or some of the most utterly boring literature ever. The one I start to read is actually pretty good—the story of a woman’s car and how it was built, and how it later affects her life. At first glance I would never read something on the subject, but it’s written in a charming, endearing way.