STOLEN SMILE

CATERINA

"One can't paint New York as it is, but rather as it is felt."

-Georgia O'Keeffe

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THE CLOSEST THING I HAD to nightclub attire was a pair of black straight fit leather pants and a berrylush halter neck styled back crop top with black leather jacket. Paired with my black heels that still lay near the back door, it would be passable.

As I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, I frowned at the curling iron in the second drawer. When I'd bathed this morning, I found cherry blossom shampoo and soap already in the shower. Some woman visited enough she stockpiled toiletries. What would I do if she brought her home while I was here? Something bitter twisted in my stomach.

I tried to figure out why it bothered me so much. If it were Oscar Perez who brought another woman home, I would feel lucky for the reprieve. Though, with this woman......the idea made my throat tighten with an unexplainable feeling.

I used the curling iron. And then I freshened my makeup but kept it light.

I was near the back door, slipping into my heels, when Jenn came downstairs. I wished my uncertainty about that stupid woman's shampoo would have dulled the sensation of how my body reacted to her. It thrummed at seeing her in a black suit with a sober expression that burned through my skin. Her handsomeness was so classic it made me believe she could fit seamlessly into any time period.

I couldn't hold on to resentment or anxiety of what she may do in the future. I wouldn't live my life like that. I would just have to take it one day at a time and let the inevitable work its way out when it did.

"How did I get ready before you?" I teased, leaning against the back door.

Her lips tipped up as she grabbed her keys off the counter and then typed something into a security system keypad near her office door.

Hesitation settled in me when she didn't respond. She'd seemed more distant since our conversation this morning. What did I expect?

I was sure she thought I was involved with someone, and I had never made it clear that I wasn't. I'd told her I didn't want to marry her, and I wasn't a virgin, which I was sure she wanted since she picked Audrey. Or maybe she just preferred her?

Why did she even want me?

She could have anyone she wanted. Any virgin from here to the west coast would be delighted if they could get past her reputation.

I realized then that I wanted her to want me.

Where a deep attraction had hummed for her since I'd met her, there was something else coming to life, pulsing like a weak beat on a heart rate monitor. I could almost hear the beep echo in my ears.

Almost feel the thrum in my chest. But it wasn't of me.

It felt like woman, clean sweat and whiskey.

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Twinkling urban lights. High heels and short dresses. Too many drinks and meaningless sex hanging like an inevitable in the air.

Nightlife was in full swing as we made our way into a side door of the club.

I'd never been to a nightclub before. Had never been one of these girls who waited to get into my fiancé's club. Who might've even had sex with her for all I knew. Some unease curled in my stomach. How could I ever please her when I was sure she'd been with much more experienced women? It was a hit to my womanhood imagining I would bore her in bed. She hadn't even tried to get me there—had just given me an orgasm like it was an engagement present and left.