Pain And Pleasure 18+✓

Eighteen

Adrian Castle promised to call me after a few minutes. While unzipping my dress, I head straight to the bathroom where I meet my reflection staring back at me. I take a halt, and my eyes gleam at the sight of a woman I behold.

She's the same, but she feels different.

A smile settles on my face, and a crimson color frosts my cheeks for the reason my body fully understands. I shouldn't dwell on this, I know this for a fact, yet my body betrays my mind each time I try to escape this chasm of fond memories.

But I should get over it. It was just sex. SEX!

A minute later I return to the bedroom and change into comfy pajamas—loose pants and a plain top. Mr. Castle calls me again after the five minutes he's requested so he could take another call.

Always a busy guy! I smirk as my thumb slides on the screen to accept his call.

"I doubted you'd call again," I say while dropping back onto the bed, lying lazily with eyes on the ceiling.

"I keep my word. You should know this by now," he says curtly. My eyes roll, but I can't object to his statement. "So your friends are sleeping over?"

"Yeah. They do it from time to time, and we haven't done it in a good while," I reply tiredly, somehow wishing I was in a different place and time.

I suck in a lungful of air before exhaling heavily.

"What's wrong?" Mr. Castle inquires.

Damn, does he catch every little detail on my mood swings?

He amazes me.

"I know this is random and all but I suddenly wish I was under the open sky—a beach maybe—with twinkling stars and cool air on my face listening to the sound of the waves crashing against the shore," I tell him, but he doesn't respond. "I think I'm tired." I sigh again, for I know he is the wrong person for me to rant about my inner desires.

I seriously need a break from my routine. Maybe I should ask Sally and Josh if we could go on a weekend trip somewhere out of Las Vegas.

I need a breather; a place I can hear my own thoughts.

A long silence ensues on Mr. Castle's end, It clearly shows how mystifying I can be, and the last thing I want is for him to think I'm losing my mind.

"You said you wanted to talk about something? What is it?" I ask, changing the subject by sitting upright, Indian style.

I hear his breath, and I believe he's also exhausted despite having an exorbitant life that's deceivingly beautiful. I can't imagine how it feels like having to worry about expanding his businesses without losing what he already has.

It's too much pressure, but I know being poor is one hell of a stress. What is the perfect approach to self-actualization? Sometimes I wonder and I get no definitive answer. Maybe happiness is all that counts whether you're rich or not.

But who am I kidding? I'd love to be goddamn rich!

"About that, I think we'll talk when I come back. My flight is early in the morning so I needed to say goodbye beforehand," he informs me.

To say goodbye again? Why does he keep making our relationship awkward? It's as if we're a couple, all the while I know we are not. Frankly, it's a bit difficult for me to catch up with him sometimes—well, for the most part.

He confuses me.

"Okay," I breathe softly. I want to say that he didn't have to tell me all this, but I find no reason to be rude. "Have a safe trip."