The Law of Attraction

(20)

I'm not the other woman, and yet I my gut aches with guilt as if I am. Would my father care about my sordid affair? Would I care if he did? I'm a grown woman and my love shouldn't only be reserved for men my father deems acceptable, and yet -

I approach the front door of Calvin's Tudor home, every light switched on and familiar pop music blaring through opened windows. I step inside the front door, unlocked as people come and go at will. There are countless young aristocrats dressed to the nines with Chardonnay in their glasses. I feel out of place in my red sundress, not aware that a house party could be a black tie affair. Being raised upper middle class was still a long shot from blue blooded rich.

Am I here because I want to be? Or am I still just covering for William again? I gnaw my cheek, already familiar with the answer.

I haven't returned his calls all week, and yet he hasn't got the message yet. It isn't that I'll never speak to him again, I just need distance to let my heart work through the conflicting feelings that keep me up at night.

I'd tell my father that I love William in an instant, and deal with the backlash, but William isn't so bold. He's entitled to choose his career over a summer fling with a woman still at university, just as I am free to attend Calvin's party.

"Stunning as always." Calvin whistles as he approaches me, an unopened bottle of wine and two glasses in his hand. He smells like tobacco and whiskey, just like his father.

"Honestly, I feel underdressed." I admit, glancing at a young woman in a silk a-line gown.

"These socialites don't understand the concept of letting your hair down," Calvin winks, loosening his tie with a free hand, "they think every party is for rubbing elbows."

"If not elbows than what?" I humor.

"Ah, that's cheeky. I like it." He grins, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

"Since you are my personal guest this evening I will give you a choice, dearest Bella," Calvin offers as he guides me through the mess of people and wall of cigar smoke, " I can introduce you to the most establish, most eligible, and most boorish bachelors known to London."

"Or?" I ask, almost afraid of the answer.

"Or we can sit and talk alone." His gaze is hungry, and I know what he's implying.

"You think I'm going to sleep with you so easily?"

"I never mentioned Sex, Isabella. You truly are depraved aren't you?" Calvin teases, but my glare causes him to back pedal.

"I only meant we could talk, and I'd hardly call you of all people easy."

In all fairness, in Calvin's perspective he's been courting me for weeks with barely any interest in return. To him, I'm practically prudish.

"Not that id be able to deny you." he adds, his breath hot against my ear. His voice deepens, and his blue eyes dilate.

He's smooth, I have to give him credit for trying. I let the desperate young blue blood lead me upstairs to a sitting room decorated with stark leather furniture and intricate gold crown mounding. I had been expecting his bedroom, so at least this is an improvement.

There are family portraits on the wall of men similar to Calvin with brown hair and blue eyes. They eye me severely, almost mocking me for falling into their descendants trap.

"Wine, sweet Bella?" He asks me, breaking the seal on the bottle.

"Please." I reply, happily taking the over poured glass of Pinot Grigio from his hand.

I take a sip, and swirl the taste over my tongue before swallowing. I can easily see why house wives choose wine to drown their sorrows.

"I was serious about talking, you know. I think we need to get some things off our chests." Calvin says, taking a drink from his own glass.

"What things?" I ask, tensing.

"I want to know what William has that I lack." He states as though it's a simple little thing.

"I don't know -"

"Isabella, please. Have I at least earned your honesty by now?" His eyes tremble with sadness, and I wince.

"I won't tell your father, it's no business of mine."

I'm silent a moment, my brain turning over my options like a tarnished penny. Do I deny the obvious truth, or do I let the words finally slip out of my mouth.

"It's not anything he has that you don't," I mutter, setting my glass down, "it's that I've found my attraction lies with older men." The words taste silly as I say them, but Calvin looks oddly relieved.

"Age is his advantage?"

I nod, "the experience is alluring."

"Have you ever been with anyone your own age?"

I shake my head no.

"Then how can you be certain what you like?" Calvin inquires, setting his own glass down, "I could offer you so much that he never could if you'd let me show you." He steps closer, and I don't move away.

"It's not that simple, Calvin."

"Why isn't it?"

"I'm not the kind of girl that tries on multiple hats at once."

"Then tell me I've never made you quiver." He mouths, his breath hitting my hot face.

I can't tell him that, because it isn't true. He has tempted me before, but not in the same way William has. William tempts me like a lioness hunting her prey, Calvin tempts me like a cool glass of water on a hot summer day. Both satisfy you, but only one makes you feel violently alive.

"Let me see your world, Isabella. Then tell me if you think skill comes with age." His lips slide across my throat and my skin pricks.

The ball is in my court. I can push him off and leave him wanting, or I can let him attempt to cure me of my mortal affliction. I want a cure. I want to be free of William because I know his road only leads to heart ache.

When Calvin reaches for the zipper at the back my dress, I don't deny him. It's ridiculous, and I may hate myself later, but what else is new. This summer is already trash.

The red fabric falls around my ankles and I step out of it as Calvin lures me to the couch, his hungry gaze making me feel raw and impassioned. It's different than William. There's nothing forbidden about this except the  location, and even that's irrelevant.

I straddle Calvin's hips, his erection rubbing noticeably against my crotch, growing more prevalent by the second. He grabs my waist and pushes me against him, using his bulge to stimulate me.

It works, and I'm almost instantly gasping with pleasure. He bucks with perfection, my body a puppet in his grasp. Im as aroused as I am shocked. A few more moments and I'll already cum. My eyes stare at his face, his eyes lustful and his mouth hanging open. I throw my head back, an orgasm stuck in my throat. As I reach climax, my eyes land on a specific portrait hanging crooked on the wall.

My body tenses, and I throw myself to my feet, my legs almost giving out.

"What's wrong?" Calvin asks me.

"Why do you have a portrait of William on your wall?"

"Ah, that," Calvin chuckles, "He's my cousin."