Hidden in Pink

Park

I couldn't possibly take it, could I? It was definitely tempting - more than tempting, really. It would be a dream. Sex before work starts, tension growing throughout the day as the hunger for each others bodies build up, and up, and up. Did I mention the pay? But it would be wrong. We couldn't do this. I don't want to get a job this way.

I shook my head. "I can't take it. It would be inappropriate, Ben, you can't possibly expect me to take this job after what we just did, can you?" It was absolutely preposterous, but by the looks of it, Ben wasn't thinking so. His face was completely blank, as if my words were going straight through one ear and out the other.

He then rushed over to me, cradling my face in his hands. "We'll make it work Stace, I promise we'll make it work." Stace was the nickname that my first boyfriend called me. That's when the tears came, and as if he had read my mind, he began to hold me, shushing my blubbering mouth, telling me it was going to be alright. Was it?

Once I was calmed down and Ben had run out of synonyms for "It's gonna be okay's", I told him. "Ben, this isn't going to work. You've been an absolutely magnificent tonight but I have to go," I said, lightly wiggling out of his grip. And he let me.

He let me walk out of this building knowing damn well that I was walking out of his life too. He had known what was coming - that if he were you to use that stupid line about the movies on me that I would melt into him, give into him, grant his body any command. I was pawn in his chess game and I lost. He wasn't playing to win me, he was playing to play. It was a win-win situation for him. If I had taken the job, he would get to fuck my brains out on that fucking desk every fucking day, and if I hadn't, then at least he got to squeeze in a quickie before I left for good. I wonder what his wife thinks.

I never saw him again. Until today.

He was with his wife and two gurgling babies. They looked perfect, too perfect. They looked as if someone had arranged them there to pose as the families you see in picture frames. I wanted to rip each of their eyes out, especially his. It's been six weeks since he took me on his desk, and it took everything in me to not run up in there and tell the woman with the perfect strawberry blond hair that her husband fucked the life out of me, and he was incompetent enough to leave his ring on the whole time. I wonder how she would like it, when she I tell her that he swiped the pictures of  children off his desk as he ate me out.

We were in Central Park, Ben was dressed in a tee short and shorts, the most casual I've ever seen him. His face is plastered in thousands of magazines, "Ben Affleck signs new lease in London office," "The Affleck family takes a vacation in the Bahamas!", "Ben Affleck takes a shit!" All the headlines were bullshit, but I'd be lying if I said I'd never bought magazine just because I saw his name on the cover. 

His wife, on the other hand, was beautiful. I knew she was a model, I had read about her endeavors somewhere. She was tall, 5'10, I think it was. Her orangey - pink hair was pulled up into a neat bun, her tanned, thin legs were draped in a flowy maxi skirt, her shirt perfectly buttoned all the way up to the top. What made me hate her the most was that she was holding a toddler in six inch heels. Fuck, I wanted to slap the cheek bones off of her face. That day I felt high. Maybe it was off my book, maybe it was off seeing him again - all I knew is that I was tripping on something, and it was making me too honest to make nice.

Seeing him reminded me of something. He never stopped caring for me, as I did him. I care for him, I know I do, I know he does. Or maybe doesn't. But he feels something for me. He's just confused about his feelings for his wife and his feelings for me. I know he is.

But then he saw me.

Like really saw me.

As in he's walking in my direction saw me.

Like he's standing right in front of me saw me.

"Anastasia?" He hovered over the park bench I was sitting in. He was blocking the sun, the rays shining around him, making him look like an angel. I missed him, I missed him, I missed him. He was so tall, muscular, fine. I ached to touch him, for him to touch me.

What do I say? "Hello, Ben," I said standing up, and setting my book down. It felt good to stand up, I didn't realize how wrapped up in my book I was. I have a good feeling about this. Seeing him felt cathartic and raw, I felt all of our old feelings flood back into us in the gust of wind that hit us moments ago. I knew he felt it too.

And then he hugged me. Nice and tight and long. Long enough to raise suspicion of the strawberry blond beauty watching us like a hawk just moments away. Feeling him again was like visiting your childhood home. Everything was the same, like it was waiting for you to come and visit again. He cares for me.

I felt his breath, nice and steady in my right ear. "Meet me at the restaurant we met in at 10:30. I missed you." And before I knew it he was gone again, and I couldn't help but I feel like Ben was a like wind; just when you can't catch him, you realize he was never really gone.