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Odalisque

By: lazyways



In the haven of her unlit room, Callie lay drowsing in her underwear on top of the bed covers. It was early Friday evening, and the fan wasn't doing much to rid the air of the thick humidity that stuck to her. Ineffective as the fan was, she reached her hands out as if to gather whatever coolness it blew her way. 

The night before, Callie had committed to going to a party with her friend Kirsten, and, sweltering as it was, she had come to regret her promise. Kirsten lured her into going with the promise of booze, men, a dance floor. But the heat left Callie feeling paralyzed. She couldn't imagine anyone going out in this misery and couldn't remember the last time she'd been able to relax. Just the thought of getting ready was agonizing. 

Callie knew few details about the party, though she had heard it was technically a late-night poolside barbeque that was being thrown at a luxurious mansion up in the hills, but no one she spoke to seemed to know who lived there or who was throwing the party. Kirsten said that she'd heard it once belonged to an old Hollywood starlet and had been left abandoned for years, until just last month, some singer who'd just signed a million-dollar record deal bought the place. Callie had told Kirsten that she was unimpressed, but the truth was that her interest was piqued. She reasoned that a night outside might be cooler than a one spent suffocating in her bedroom. 

The old clock on her nightstand read 8:30. If she didn't start getting ready now, she knew that she'd never leave. Callie mustered all her strength to climb out of bed, fix her makeup, and get dressed. She breathed deeply at the threshold of her apartment and looked longingly at what she'd be leaving behind as she slowly closed the door behind her.

***

Kirsten led Callie through a wrought-iron gate, then down a cobblestone path illuminated by torches and into an enormous backyard. The girls stopped to take it all in: there was a swimming pool and a hot tub, and the outdoor grill was so massive that it was more of an outdoor kitchen. A fireplace attached to the grill was, unsurprisingly, not in use. The party was more than well attended, as the crowd nearly filled the generous space. 

"I can't believe how many people are here!" Callie exclaimed. Had they been any closer to the throng of people, she would have had to scream to be heard. They were already close enough to feel the beat of the music in their ribcages. Kirsten surveyed the party with wide eyes and toyed with her long, dark blonde hair.

"I thought it'd be big, but yeah, this is insane. What's our first move?" 

"Our choices are probably drinking, swimming, or dancing. Unless we want to sidle up next to the barbecue."

"Already ate, and I didn't bring a bathing suit." 

"So what?" Callie shrugged and Kirsten laughed. "Do we see anyone we know?"

"How could we?"

"Good point." Callie fussed with her dress and bit her lip thoughtfully. "Well, I say we dance."

The partygoers seemed to have chosen a spot on the opposite side of the pool as their dance floor. They gathered in close, seeming to move as a single entity to the music. Callie and Kirsten pushed their way into the center of the jumble and instantly joined in. 

The moment that Tyler first saw her, he held his breath. She was dancing in the middle of the crowd, but it was hard not to see her first among those who'd gathered around her. How dull they were in comparison, he thought, lit up as she was by her intensity and prettiness, as though a spotlight were on her and her alone.

She looked wanton, her skin iced with shimmery makeup, her eyes dark with too much eye shadow, lips bright with gloss, expression aloof. Though her dress left her relatively covered up, it was skintight, with an inviting zipper in the back that ran its entire length. On any other girl, the look might have been cheap, but her face was so angelic that she looked almost pure. 

Any girl dancing like that would need a drink sooner or later, he thought. So he took his place by the poolside bar, ordered an Irish coffee, and waited. 

As he'd predicted, it wasn't long before she emerged from the swarm of dancers and, after a quick glance around, headed his way. Sweat on her brow had dampened her bangs and the hair around her temples. It made him think of the way she might look after he took her to bed. Despite looking a little out of sorts, she smelled sweet, like tropical fruit.

"Want something to drink?" He took a lazy sip of his Irish coffee and shot her a sideways glance.

"I've got it." She didn't give him a second look. Or a first look, for that matter. It was the attitude of a woman accustomed to male attention. The bartender approached, and Tyler noticed that he seemed to be sizing her up, too. She ordered an Old Fashioned. Tyler was impressed. Then she turned to him and cocked her head. "A tie at a barbecue?" 

"I always wear a tie." He tried to look as blasé as possible, but he was miffed by her comment. He'd even loosened the tie, and the first few buttons of his collar were undone. 

"Always?" Her lip curled. "Even to bed?" This girl was going to be a handful, he mused. He liked her already. 

"Don't wear much to bed," he smirked. She tried to look bored but just the hint of a smile gave her away.

The stranger was handsome, she'd give him that. His eyes were a rich brown, his hair a sandy copper, his skin touched with the gold glimmer of a healthy tan. His lips were full under an aquiline nose. If he hadn't been dressed so seriously, she would have pegged him for a beach dweller. Little lines ran along the corners of his eyes, which made him look pleasant but also betrayed his age. She guessed he was in his early to mid-thirties. 

The bartender handed her the drink. She turned to the man and asked, "What's your name?"

"Tyler. Yours?"

"Callie. You enjoying the party?"

"I am now. You seemed to be having a pretty good time."

"I was having a great time. I'm worn out but looking forward to this drink."

"What do you do, Callie?"

"Ah..." There was a flicker of embarrassment. "I'm a blogger."

"Oh?" Tyler looked amused. "What do you blog about?"

"Fashion, celebrity gossip. Pretty much whatever you'd expect. My boss pays me to party and then write about the party." She took a sip from her drink and studied the partygoers around them. "It's not what I want to do forever. It's just the best I can do for now." 

"What do you want to do forever?"

"Write for a fashion magazine. Eventually I want to be a fashion magazine editor. It's a pipe dream, I guess, but it's what I've always wanted to do and what I went to school for." Tyler felt a kick of lust in his gut at the lurid, almost neon smudge of red lip-gloss that Callie's mouth had left on the rim of her glass. "What do you do?" 

"I work for a record company. Very boring stuff." 

"Is it what you wanted to do? Or what you thought you'd be doing?"

"You could say it was a little bit of a surprise. Not something I ever expected to be doing. But I'm happy enough. I'm comfortable." Tyler shifted in his seat and looked at Callie intently. "What do you think you'll say about this party?"

"Tonight I'm off the clock. This party is purely for pleasure. Though I guess if something interesting happens, my boss won't be happy if I don't document it." 

"Doesn't seem like there's much to write about here tonight. I haven't even seen anyone famous. How'd you hear about it?"

"My friend Kirsten called me up. Seemed to be a word-of-mouth thing -- she heard about it from a friend who'd heard about it from another friend."

Tyler leaned back and seemed to study her. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but he stood and reached out a hand, stopping her short.

"I'd like to show you something." She gave him a quizzical look. "Inside the house."

"How do you know what's in there? Can we go inside?" Callie glanced at the house, which looked dark and foreboding. It didn't look as though anyone was inside, not even its mystery residents.

"Sure. I saw a few people inside. That's the way I came in." She acquiesced, letting Tyler lead her toward the house with her hand still in his.

"What do you know about the singer who lives here?"

"Not a whole lot, if I'm being honest." He opened the sliding glass door for her and, moving past him, she felt his eyes on her as she walked in. 

The house really was a mansion, had all the qualities she associated with one. It was airy, with large open archways that allowed a glimpse into adjoining rooms, marble floors, even an intricate chandelier suspended from a high ceiling. Tyler led her into one of these rooms, which looked like a study. Its colors were richer and darker in comparison to the other rooms she'd seen. The hardwood floor matched the furniture, and a beautiful and expensive-looking decorative rug ran across the length of the room. The chairs were unreal, looking like something out of Versailles, all dark brown wood with gold accents and sapphire-blue brocaded cushions. Along the wall behind the desk was a huge old painting of a dark-haired young woman. Tyler and Callie stood side-by-side in front of the desk facing it.

"What do you think of her?" Tyler asked. Callie wrinkled her nose.

"The women in these old paintings always look so prim to me."

"You wouldn't party with her?" He asked in feigned surprise, casting her a sideways glance. Callie laughed at this, a quick, startled laugh that she covered with her hand. He relished a moment of secret pleasure at having made her laugh, then continued. "I don't see it that way. Just because she doesn't wear lace the way a woman might today doesn't make her uptight or sexless. There's a look in the eye, and the way she holds herself. You can tell she's still very much a woman. It just takes a little more imagination, maybe. And I like that."

Callie considered this and felt that his logic was compelling. It surprised her that a man would think this way, but she liked it. "She is beautiful," she conceded. 

"You reminded me of her, actually." Callie knit her brows and studied the painting. "It's why I wanted to show it to you."

"I guess I do see the resemblance." The woman in the painting had the same coloring as Callie, the soft dark hair and olive skin. Certain facial features were mirrored in the portrait, too: the big, near-black eyes and angled cheekbones.

"Not that you have the same sense of style. I have to admit I like your dress a little bit better." Tyler turned to face Callie then, taking her hand in his and bringing it to his lips to kiss her fingers lightly. The sudden touch was unexpected, and she tried to disguise her surprise.

"Isn't this usually a kind of introductory thing?"

"I forgot to do it earlier." His warm breath skimmed her skin and gave her a chill. An image of him taking her on the desk briefly flickered in her mind. It would be impossible to say no, she realized. 

Tyler let her hand drop and rounded the desk to sit in the chair behind it, made himself at home. He turned to face the bookcases there and brushed the taut leather of their embossed spines. "You much of a reader?" he inquired.

"I used to be. Don't have that much time for it any more, though."

"I love it. I think it's important to read, to get close to another person's imagination. And to read beyond the fluff nowadays, that's especially important. Don't mean to get didactic, though." He turned to look her way. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No." Callie frowned despite herself. 

"Wish you did?"

"Actually, no. I don't date. At least, not seriously."

"You don't date?" Tyler mulled this over, looking grave. "Why not?"

"The short answer is that it distracts from my career. All my focus is on that right now."

"Go on a date with me. I'll try not to be too distracting. You can give me the long answer then."

"But I just told you..." Her expression was equal parts confusion and irritation, but Tyler opted to keep pushing.

"What's the harm? Just a date. You aren't celibate, are you? Or are you not into men?" 

"Well, neither." She blushed under his bold gaze. Callie knew well enough that he was challenging her, but she couldn't back down. "Fine." Her phone vibrated, and she pulled it out of her pocket, reading the message she had received. "It's my friend Kirsten," she explained. "I'm her ride, and she wants to get going."

"I'll walk you out." He rose from his chair and walked toward her with such poise and masculine grace that it took her a few moments to realize that it was her cue to get up, too. He wrapped an arm around hers as she rose.

"I didn't peg you for a gentleman." As he guided her out of the study, she shot the painting behind her one last appraising look. 

"Oh, I'm not. But any excuse to get close to you will do." Once they were back out on the patio, they saw that the party had dwindled a bit and quieted down. "I'm going to need your phone number," he declared, turning to her. "And I'm going to call you right now to make sure I get it." Callie laughed. He was determined, and who was she to deny a handsome man? For the first time in recent memory, she gave a stranger her actual phone number. 

"Oh, here's my friend now..." Callie trailed off, realizing that Tyler had disappeared. She felt almost disappointed that she wouldn't be able to introduce him to Kirsten, who zigzagged toward her. 

"Who was that babe?"

"His name is Tyler, and I just gave him my phone number." Kirsten grabbed Callie's wrist and laughed drunkenly, giddily. 

"Nice work," she remarked and fell into Callie, who steadied her and led her to the car, preoccupied with thoughts of a man she didn't even know.

***

Tyler examined the unassuming brick apartment building. So this was where Callie lived, he thought. He decided it didn't suit her. He'd imagined something a little more lavish and a little less dreary.

As resistant as Callie had been at first, she'd made this part of the process easy, letting him choose the time and the place for their date and texting him her address. He followed a passing tenant into the building, ignored the elevator, and winged up the staircase to her apartment. He rang her doorbell and waited breathlessly.

Callie peered out behind a crack in the door. "Tyler!" She hurried to undo the chain. "You're here early." She swung the door open to reveal a stunning red wrap dress with a plunging V-neckline and fluttering sleeves. It was daringly short and fit her so snugly that Tyler had to fight against the impulse to grab her right there. 

"I usually am," he gulped and remembered the tiny bouquet of bluebells he gripped in his hand. He offered them up to her, but she eyed them suspiciously. 

"We have flowers just like that growing around the side of the building."

"I saw them outside." He gave her a sheepish grin. "A little last minute gift." She smiled despite herself and accepted them. 

"Give me a sec to drop these in some water and get my bag." Tyler watched the upside-down heart of her ass swing as she moved away from him, balancing herself gracefully on dainty gold heels. He rested himself against the doorway as he began to scrutinize his surroundings. Her apartment was dim and cozy. The décor was predominantly Moroccan: a vast array of textures and patterns, all in warm, earthy colors like burnt orange and gold and deep brown. The interior was ample evidence of her sensuality, and Tyler felt his pulse quicken as Callie emerged from the kitchen and snatched up her purse from the couch. He guided her out, placing his hand possessively at the small of her back. 

In the elevator, she filled his senses once again with her tropical scent. The fragrance was something like coconut and Tahitian vanilla and musk. He noticed then that long, gold earrings grazed her shoulders. He reached out to toy with one of them and smiled wolfishly as she turned to look at him. For a brief moment, Callie felt cornered, but the feeling was pleasant. She let him play with the earring, the side of his finger briefly brushing one sensitive ear lobe. The moment of tension ended as the elevator doors slid open to reveal the first floor. 

"So where are we having dinner?" she asked.

"One of my favorites, a little Italian place downtown. I think you'll like it."

As they stepped out onto the sidewalk, Callie gasped. A chauffeur waited for them and had opened the door of a sleek black car as soon as he spotted Tyler. After a moment, she recovered and quipped with mock-disappointment, "No limo?" Tyler gave her a curious look, saw her little smile, and laughed.

"Not tonight, I'm sorry to say. Maybe next time." Before Callie could argue, he gestured for her to get in the car. She sniffed and complied as he guided her in, then fell in beside her.

The dark leather of the seats was so soft that it felt like suede against Callie's legs. Tyler's proximity was exciting, his solid build so close to hers; he smelled like vanilla and cloves. He laid one hand casually on her bare knee, and this simple touch made her start. She smiled at him uneasily and settled back into her seat. They spent most of the ride in silence as she watched the neon lights of the storefronts they passed cast strange shapes on the car's interior. 

"My parents used to own a little tailoring shop in that outdoor mall," Tyler said, interrupting the silence and indicating what was now a frozen yogurt place. His hand still rested comfortably on her knee. 

"You grew up here?" 

"I did. Are you a native?" 

"No. I've lived here about seven years now. Came here for college. I'm from Illinois originally."

"Do you miss it?"

"The place? No. My family and friends? Yes. But this is where I need to be to do what I want to do." Tyler nodded. 

"Do you find it lonely here?"

"Yes." She lowered her head and turned to the window.

"It's amazing that anyone can feel so alone in a city so huge. Even I feel it sometimes, though most of the people I know live here. It gets into your bones like winter cold." His reassurances were cut short as the car came to a slow stop. In an instant, the driver was opening Tyler's door. After Tyler emerged, he reached out to help her slide out and up onto the sidewalk. She smoothed her dress and glanced around. When she turned back to Tyler, he was softly smiling at her. Her pulse sped, and she was grateful when he wrapped his arm around hers, unknowingly steadying her. 

For a Saturday night, the restaurant wasn't very crowded. The interior was a little higher-end than she'd predicted, with silky white tablecloths in lieu of the checkered standard and delicate white lights scattered across the ceiling like stars. A portly young waiter led them to a booth in a dim corner. 

"This one is the prettiest yet," the waiter commented, studying Callie carefully. She smiled but, even in the low light, she could see that Tyler was blushing. The waiter grinned and left them to their menus.

"You a bit of a ladies' man?" Callie questioned, trying to keep her tone playful.

"I'm no tramp but, I mean, I do date." 

"Have you ever been married?"

"Almost," he sighed. 

"Oh?" Callie looked up from her menu, and her sudden interest was not lost on Tyler.

"Well, I was in a serious relationship for about seven years." He took a long, nervous drink of his ice water, then set it back down with a grimace. "We got engaged toward the end of those seven years, but our hearts weren't in it. It's been over about a year now."

"And you've been bringing girls here ever since. Is it a different girl every time?" She tried not to sound accusatory. She wasn't sure she pulled it off.

"I'm not sure that the girl who doesn't date seriously should be asking that particular question," he narrowed his eyes, studying her, briefly hoping she would reconsider her inquiry. The expression on her face told him that she wouldn't budge. "But I'll answer anyway. I'm not sure that I've ever brought a girl here a second time. But I haven't met anyone who's really impressed me enough. Haven't been in anything serious since the seven-year relationship."


Odalisque



"I think I've made you uncomfortable. I didn't mean to, I was only curious. And as a girl who doesn't date, I'm in no place to judge you." Callie curtailed her explanation when the waiter returned. The couple placed their orders, and the waiter hurried off, disappearing into the kitchen. 

"So, you told me you'd give me the long story tonight. About why you don't date."

"I never agreed to that."

"I'm curious to hear it anyway."

"I really just don't have the time. I want out of this job, you know? I want something better. If it weren't part of my job, I wouldn't even party. Probably wouldn't ever see my friends."

"Is the job you have now really so bad? Are you that unhappy with it?" As if on cue, Callie's phone beeped. She shot it a disdainful look.

"Yes, I am. And it's my boss, sorry. Hold on." Callie furrowed her brow as she texted. The look on her face was odd and made Tyler uneasy. She put the phone down and leaned back, her face pale, even more agitated than she had been before the text. 

"Everything all right?" 

"Peachy." She forced a smile. At that moment, the waiter emerged from the kitchen with their food, and Tyler silently thanked him for his perfect timing. He set pumpkin ravioli in front of Callie and linguine with lobster in front of Tyler. As they went to work on their respective plates, Tyler looked up at Callie, waiting to catch her attention.

"So, what do you like?" he asked as he casually leaned back into his seat. 

"What do you mean? Like, food? Or..."

"Anything." Callie looked puzzled and watched Tyler's face as though it might yield clues as to what he meant. Finding nothing to help her besides a smile, she did her best.

"Well," she sighed, "I like music. I used to play cello in high school. I like design, interior decorating. Old movies." Tyler nodded along. "I like fashion, if that wasn't obvious. How about you? What do you like?"

"I like music, too. Some modern, popular stuff because it's necessary to my job, but a lot of classical and jazz, too. I like old, stuffy writing. I like collecting art. And I think I'm getting to like you very much." Callie could feel the red bloom on her cheeks as she brought her fork down with unnecessary force into her ravioli. "You're cute when you're embarrassed." He marveled at how composed she could be when she flirted, yet how unnerved she was by sweetness and sincerity. "Enjoying your dinner?"

The subject change was not lost on Callie. She appreciated it. "It's wonderful." 

***

On returning to Callie's apartment building, Tyler ushered her into the elevator. Once inside, the doors slid shut, and he looked at her questioningly, reaching out to touch her hair. His fingertips glided past the silky gold chain of one earring, then caressed her shoulder.

"So what does your rulebook have to say about kissing?"

"I could make an allowance," she murmured, once again savoring how it felt to be trapped by him. Tyler pushed the 'stop' button and leaned forward, touching her face lightly with his own, the side of his nose against her nose, his breath blowing warm over her lips. What little space was between them was charged with electricity and thick with humidity. 

His kiss was tentative at first. He pulled her closer to him, crushing her soft breasts against his chest, feeling something flutter in him at the awareness of having her so close to him. His only thought was to relish her, to allow her to invade each of his senses, and to feel, even if just for a moment, that she belonged to him and him alone. 

He pulled back, then ran his fingers through his hair, his eyes never leaving hers. The elevator doors opened; a tenant was poised to step on to the elevator but even she recognized the tension between the couple, staring as intently as they did at each other, oblivious to her. Callie was the first to come to her senses, glancing over at the woman nervously and feeling a quick pang of embarrassment. Callie stepped out, allowing the woman to pass as Tyler followed her out to her apartment door.

As she fumbled for her keys, she briefly considered asking him to come in. She grimaced, recognizing that it was a terrible idea, albeit an attractive one. Tyler touched her chin and turned her face toward him. 

"I'll be going to a concert in the park tomorrow. Why don't you join me?"

"Another date?" She eyed him skeptically. 

"Is a concert too serious? Maybe you're going to have to write out all your rules for me so I don't misstep." Callie pursed her lips at the sarcasm in his voice, and Tyler picked up on her displeasure. "I'm sorry. But really, think about it. You said you liked music, and I'm not so bad. Call me when you've made a decision either way." Tyler left her with one long, searing look. 

***

The next morning, Callie lazed in bed, taking her time to wake up. Remembering Tyler's offer, she sat up in bed with a start and stared at her phone like an eightball that might tell her what to do next. The truth was, she missed Tyler already. She had dreamed of him, and then, even half asleep, she had wondered where he was. And what was the harm? What kind of trouble could they get into at a concert in the park? It wasn't as though she'd be alone with him. 

It wasn't like her to feel so nervous about anything. Or anyone. But Tyler had done something to get under her skin. He'd gotten into her blood. She could feel her pulse pick up when she was around him. Even on this cool summer morning, just thinking about him made her sweat. Tired of her indecisiveness, she reached for the phone and dialed. 

"Hello?"

"Tyler? Hi. It's Callie."

"You just wake up? You sound tired."

"You got it." 

"You sound lovely when you've just woken up. What's up?"

"Well, I was thinking about what you said about today..."

"The concert."

"Yeah. I'm in. If you still are, that is."

"I am still in. I'll pick you up at five thirty."

The time spent between their phone call and Tyler's arrival seemed interminable. She sat at her laptop to work on a blog entry for Monday, but she only stared at the screen, agitated. Getting ready was a welcome distraction, and she was relieved when she finally heard her doorbell ring. 

"I'm glad you're coming with me. What made you decide?" Tyler asked when they were in the car.

"I just wanted to get out of the apartment," she lied. Tyler turned away to hide his smirk, in disbelief at her transparency. "Besides," she continued, aware of how obvious she was, "I think it'll be a welcome break from working, too. I've been struggling with this new article all day." 

"I do hope this proves to be more fun for you than work. But I can't make any promises."

The park wasn't far from her apartment, and it had taken less than ten minutes for them to arrive. Tyler helped her out of the car and gave her a moment to take it in. She'd never seen this park before. The stage had been set up at one end, with a wide expanse of grass in the middle. Beyond it was a children's playground. And, at the other end, lush greenery that gradually gave way to tall trees, then gently sloped up to a hillside. 

The concert had already started, and big blankets and chairs lined the park grounds. Tyler led Callie through the winding maze of people and blankets and found their way to an open spot. He took a folded blanket out of a canvas bag and shook it out, then laid it down in front of them.

"So I don't want to sound totally ignorant," Callie started as she sat down, "though I probably will anyway -- what are we listening to, exactly?"

"It's a Mingus tribute concert." Tyler sat next to her and continued to rummage through his bag. "This jazz orchestra is incredible. Especially the bassist." He started to remove different containers and sandwiches in wax wrap, then plastic utensils and even plastic salt and pepper shakers. 

"What's all this?" Callie asked. She knew exactly what it was, but that didn't diminish her surprise.

"Dinner. I wasn't sure what you'd want so I had Donald pack us a few different kinds of sandwiches. And I brought pumpkin pie for dessert because I knew for sure you liked pumpkin, so I hope I didn't go wrong there." Callie felt oddly touched, even though she knew Tyler hadn't prepared it himself. It still took some thoughtfulness to give her so many options, to remember that she'd picked the pumpkin ravioli at the restaurant the night before. It had been a long time since anyone had done anything to take care of her. "Are you hungry now? Or do you want to eat later?"

"Whenever you want."

"Well, I'm hungry now. If you couldn't tell by the way I dove into this bag right away. You get to choose first, though."

"What are all these?" Callie picked up one of the sandwiches but couldn't see through the wax.

"Caprese sub, and this one's chicken salad, and then this is vegetarian," Tyler indicated, looking at indecipherable red marks on each sandwich. Callie was overwhelmed. She pointed at the chicken salad sandwich, and Tyler took the Caprese. "Let me know if you want to try mine. I've got plenty." 

"I'm all right for now, thanks." Tyler saw the small smile on her face and was relieved he'd made the right choices. It had been a long time since he'd been concerned about anyone's needs besides his own. He was rusty. 

They ate in silence. Both of them polished off their sandwiches, and Tyler crumpled up the leftover wax paper and threw it back in the bag. He started to peel the top off the pie, then glanced at Callie, who was watching the jazz orchestra. 

Feeling his eyes on her, she turned. "What's up?"

"Dessert? Or do you want to wait until later?"

"Um... I could still eat," she smiled sheepishly. Tyler grinned.

"Good answer."

Callie inclined her head toward Tyler and whispered, "Who's that? Does she know you?" Tyler followed the direction of her gaze, and his eyes widened at the approaching figure.

"You're about to meet my ex."

"Tyler!" the woman called. Tyler awkwardly stood and Callie followed his lead.

"Beth. What a surprise." 

"It is, isn't it?" Beth shot Callie a look full of feline suspicion. "Who's your friend?"

"Beth, this is Callie. Callie, Beth." Beth didn't bother to shake Callie's hand. Callie was relieved. The woman was intimidating: tall and slender with honeyed hair and amber eyes, long limbs, and chic, loose-fitting clothing. She had the look and the presence of an underfed European model. 

"Nice to meet you," Beth replied flatly. 

"How've you been, Beth?" There was something almost manic about the way he spoke to her, something insincere and over-cheerful that Callie hadn't seen before. 

"Just fine. I heard about your new house. Enjoying it?" 

"Beautiful. Just beautiful. Cozy, too. Would you like to join us?" Beth suddenly looked as though she'd tasted something rotten. She caught herself and forced a weak smile. 

"No, thank you. I was just on my way to join my friends." She gestured to a huddle of people who looked just as slim and prim as she did. "Nice running into you, though. And nice meeting you, Carrie." Callie frowned at Tyler as Beth walked away. 

"What did you think?" he asked when Beth was out of earshot. 

"A lovely woman," Callie said dryly. And, before she could stop herself, "I can't believe you invited her to join us."

"I knew she wouldn't. I just wanted to get her goat. She never did have a sense of humor. Has even less of one now, if that's possible." Callie looked irritated. On impulse, he asked her, "How about we hang out in the woods?"

"What?" She looked alarmed.

"I use the term 'woods' loosely. Didn't mean to spook you. I just meant the trees over there." With a jerk of his chin, he indicated the side of the park with flora that she'd noticed on their arrival. "Might be a little more private, and we'll still be able to hear everything. We can eat our dessert there. I get the sense you might be more comfortable without Beth supervising us." Callie rose with him and looked thoughtful as they gathered their things, then followed him toward the trees. 

"I'm just having a hard time picturing the two of you together." What Callie wanted to say was that her and Beth looked nothing alike, were completely different women. She wanted to know what Tyler could see in her if Beth had once been his ideal.

"We did, too." He threw their blanket down between a lilac bush and a clump of silver birches, then gently planted his basket and her purse on top of it. "Not at first, obviously," he continued easily as they sat down. "We met when we'd both just graduated college, we were young and confused about what we were doing. And we wanted the same things. I think we thought that would be enough. It worked on a practical level but I'm not sure I could say we were ever really in love. I think we both realized it was wrong and kept going through the motions."

"You couldn't just break up?" The two sat across from each other, Indian style, knees almost touching. Callie was too involved in Tyler's explanations to notice, but Tyler was acutely aware of their proximity. The evening sky had dimmed and the shadows playing across Callie's face brought out her delicate bone structure. He took a moment to admire it before answering her.

"I think we both wanted to. I wanted to. But you get to a point where you've been with someone so long that their world is inextricably linked to yours. My family and friends loved her. I think maybe because she was rich. I know that sounds ugly, but we were so poor." Callie had been awfully quiet, and Tyler recognized then that she had the look of a woman who was carefully analyzing this information, memorizing every word. The look of a woman who saw red flags. He predicted her next question. "I learned the hard way that I could never stay with someone just because it's convenient or because others approve. In my defense, I'd never been in love before. I didn't have anything to compare it to. I cared about her, so I thought it was love." 

That seemed to catch her attention more than anything else he'd said. She cocked her head. "You've never been in love?"

"No." He paused. "Have you?"

"I guess maybe not." She looked uncomfortable. "I've been in lust... but not much more." The secret underlying Callie's so-called rules niggled at Tyler again. Up until this point, he'd assumed she'd suffered a recent heartbreak, had reasoned that she could be convinced, had fantasized that she could be seduced. There was something there he didn't quite understand, and these rules made even less sense to him now. He knew that she was holding something back from him, something that would illuminate everything. Even if he couldn't change her mind, he wanted to understand her better. He took her hands in his then, linking their fingers casually as though this touch wasn't new to them, scooted closer so that their knees finally touched. 

"This is better, I think," he remarked. "Having Beth around was making us both uneasy." Callie glanced at their hands, made no comment.

"If I were her and saw the two of us sneaking off into the 'woods,' I would think the worst." 

"Does that bother you?" He raised an eyebrow and traced an easy shape on her palm. "You don't strike me as the kind of girl who'd be bothered by what people think."

"No, I don't really mind. Just stating the obvious, I guess." His face turned serious then. He looked at her searchingly, then leaned forward, using their clasped hands to pull her in closer. The kiss was sweet, almost chaste, but the promise of something more brushed the edge of her consciousness, quickening the beat of her heart. 

"I want you to know that you're sexier to me than Beth ever was. More attractive in pretty much every way." Tyler became even more serious, not to mention incredibly uncomfortable, as he said this. Callie didn't seem ruffled by Beth, and he liked that. But she obviously questioned their pairing, and, for whatever reason, he felt he should explain that the two were nothing alike, that it was part of Callie's appeal. "She was always so cold, so proper. Hitchcock would have lost it for her. And she would have eaten him up." 

"You don't think that I'm a little... aloof?" He could feel her tense up as she spoke.

"No. Well, you've put up a wall, but as far as I can tell, it's not part of your nature. I can't explain it yet, and I know you don't want to. I'm not going to press it." He knew she was more vibrant, more sensual, and warmer than she'd led him to believe. "But I am going to force-feed you some of this pumpkin pie." 

***

Tyler knew what he was doing was foolish, but he wanted to see Callie, to see where she worked, to surprise her with lunch. It was Tuesday, and he hadn't heard from her since their Sunday in the park. Her office wasn't far from his own so he'd decided to extend his lunch hour and take a little walk her way. He was almost euphoric as he jogged up the stairs to her office's floor. 

The office was empty with the exception of a lone receptionist. The woman was on the phone and signaled with her hand for Tyler to wait. A few drab chairs lined the wall opposite the front desk, so he took a seat. There was something unsettling about the office but Tyler figured it probably felt less so when more people were around. 

It couldn't have been more than a few minutes when a man stepped out of the hallway and, catching sight of Tyler, rudely stared a few moments before speaking. "Can I help you?" He seemed to be sizing Tyler up. The man was muscular, huge in width and height, not much older than Tyler. There was something vaguely attractive about him, but his face was bland and forgettable. His clothes were just as boring: a pale blue collared shirt that was just a little too big, black slacks with a tapered leg, cheap-looking loafers. 

"Maybe," Tyler responded uncertainly as he rose from the chair. He felt as though he was in the waiting room for the principal's office. "I was looking for Callie. Is she in?" 

"Who's asking?" There was no mistaking the challenge in the man's voice. It was even in his eyes. And, just as disconcerting, his face remained humorless, almost suspicious. Tyler was taken aback and found himself reevaluating his situation. 

"I'm Tyler. Tyler Stone. I'm one of her friends." Caution seemed like his best bet. He waited nervously as the man shuffled papers on the front desk. The receptionist had hung up the phone and watched their interaction with interest. 

"Tyler Stone? As in Tyler Stone of Heard Street Records?"

"Yes, that's me." Tyler grew even more uncomfortable at being recognized. It didn't happen often, but when it did, he felt naked. The man acted startled, and, if possible, grew more agitated. 

"Well," he said as he cleared his throat, "I think she's out to lunch." 

"No, that's not true, Mr. Harmon," the receptionist interrupted. She gave the man a puzzled look. "She's around. I'll call her supervisor's extension." The man shot her a fast, deadly look that she missed, but Tyler wasn't so lucky. 

Callie emerged from one of the rooms down the hallway, looking cute in a pencil skirt and tobacco-colored silk blouse with suede heels. She looked harried as she approached, then grabbed his arm and walked him farther down the hall, out of earshot of the nosy receptionist and the off-putting man. 

"This was a bad idea, Tyler," she whispered as she stopped and turned to face him. "How did you know where I worked?"

"I looked you up," he admitted. "I didn't know I'd cause any trouble. I wanted to surprise you for lunch."

Callie looked guilty. "I'm sorry. It's just that Denver, my boss, is kind of uptight. Doesn't like us having visitors." 

"That's your boss? What is this place, a prison?" Callie shrugged. "How does he feel about letting his employees have lunch?" 

"I don't know." She seemed uncertain. "I don't think it's a good idea. I'm sorry."




Odalisque



Tyler glanced back, and Denver was still standing by the front desk, studying him as Callie hemmed and hawed. There was no way this guy could be any more obvious, Tyler thought. Despite her explanation, he knew something else was going on. The hostility Tyler had picked up on was somehow personal. No boss got this irritated about a visitor during an employee's lunch hour. Tyler shifted his gaze to the floor and stared at the marble tiles.

"Okay. That's fine." Tyler took a moment to recoup. "Well, my older brother is in town for a week. I'd like you to meet him."

"You don't think that's a little bit serious?"

"Not at all. My brother loves to meet my friends. I'll pick you up tonight when you're off work, and we'll have dinner at my place." Tyler's jaw was set, and his mind made up. Callie recognized that she wouldn't be able to argue. She didn't want to. 

"Okay. All right."

"Great. I'll pick you up at six." 

"You will? Or your driver will?" Tyler actually felt relieved at her fiery response. It was different from her earlier anxiety. It was playful, more in line with the Callie he knew. 

"We will pick you up. I know how stressful it can be to meet the family."

"So I'll see you later."

"Yep. Bye Callie." He briefly considered giving her a goodbye kiss, then decided against it as he saw the look on Denver's face. "Nice meeting you!" he called out with mock cheerfulness.

"Nice meeting you too Mr. Stone." Denver had obviously attempted sincerity, but the terseness of his voice betrayed him. Tyler waved a hand without looking back, relieved as he rushed down the stairs and away from the office. 

***

Callie was already waiting outside the apartment building when Tyler's car pulled up to the curb. She wore a bright floral-print sundress with sunglasses and a huge hat, her lips a vivid pink. Everything from her outfit to her pose to the brilliant sun behind her made her look like a model on a photo shoot. He forced himself to take a deep breath as she climbed in the car, the hem of her dress riding dangerously high as she sat next to him. 

"Hey, you." Tyler moved to kiss her but Callie kept still, so he settled on her cheek. Her expression was unreadable behind the sunglasses. "Everything okay?"

"I'm not sure," she started, and then saw the worried look on his face. "Well, when Denver called you Mr. Stone earlier, it rang some bells so... I decided to look you up."

"Uh oh."

"You're Tyler Stone."

"That's right."

"You said you worked for a record company. You never said you were the CEO of one."

"You're right, I wasn't specific." He'd predicted that he'd probably get in trouble for leaving this bit of information out, and he was right. 

"Why did you lie?" 

"I didn't lie." She looked at him crossly. "It was a lie of omission, maybe. Look, I just didn't want you to agree to spend time with me because of my title. You understand that, right? I didn't become the CEO until after Beth. It's been weird navigating dating now that this is what I do. I haven't held anything else back."

"Okay," Callie said slowly. She looked thoughtful. "Okay, you're right. I'm being a little harsh. I guess it just took me off guard. Sorry I've been so weird. You were just trying to do something sweet today by trying to take me to lunch, and I was terrible. And I'm being terrible now." It occurred to Callie that she was being a hypocrite, and that she was needlessly angry because she'd the one who'd been lying. 

"I understand. It's fine. We're fine. We start over." 

But then the car pulled in to the driveway of the mansion where the party had been, and Callie looked on in astonishment. Tyler sat next to her, biting his lip as he tried not to imagine the worst-case scenario of Callie's second discovery that day that he hadn't been entirely truthful.

"Wait, this is your house? I mean, your mansion?"

"It is."

"Seriously? Another lie?" But Tyler shook his head at this.

"Not so. I never told you I lived here, but I never said I didn't, either." As Callie fumed, a man emerged from the house. "How did you think I knew about the painting in the study? The door was closed. Did you think I'd been snooping?"

"I don't know! I guess I hadn't thought it through." The driver opened her door, momentarily quieting her. Tyler followed, and the man approached.

"Callie, meet my brother Jacob. Jacob, this is Callie." Callie reached out a dainty hand, which Jacob held and then bowed. He was almost as handsome as Tyler, with darker hair and eyes. He also looked much more conservative, almost military compared to Tyler who looked like a beach bum in a suit.

"She looks mad. Why is she mad?"

"Ah, Callie didn't know that this was my house."

"So?"

"This was where we met. She didn't know it was my house or my party. And she didn't know what I did for a living until the car ride over." 

"Ah," was Jacob's response. "That's a lot to take in." Callie did her best to look unruffled.

"I'm fine, sorry. And I'm not mad," she clarified. "It's just a shock." A lithe redheaded woman stepping out onto the porch interrupted the awkward introduction. She paused for a moment, shading her eyes against a setting sun, then sauntered over.

"Deirdre. Meet Callie." Tyler took a step back as the women shook hands. "Callie, this is Jacob's wife. They're practically newlyweds."

"A pleasure. And actually, it's been three years now, so we're a little past newlyweds," Deirdre gently corrected. "We've got the grill going, the table is set. Why don't we all head out back?" 

The troupe marched single-file down the cobblestone path into the backyard. In the dusky light and with so few people, it was almost unrecognizable. 

"Just like home," Callie quipped. Jacob guffawed at this, which made Tyler laugh nervously. Deirdre smiled serenely at all of them as she slipped into a chair near the grill. 

"My brother's blunders aside, how are you?" Jacob asked with a polite nod at Callie.

"I'm doing well. Had a long day at work but ready to relax. And you two? When did you guys get in?"

"We flew in yesterday," Jacob answered. "We had a long night to recover from the flight." He winked at Deirdre, who blushed. 

"So what is it you do, Jacob?" Callie asked, hoping to curb some of Deirdre's embarrassment as well as her own. 

"I'm a financial analyst with a hedge fund in Boston. Sounds dull as death but I love it."

"Two successful brothers?" Tyler raised an eyebrow at Callie's flirtatious tone. She caught his look and shrugged apologetically.

"Who'd believe it?" Tyler deadpanned. "I think we better get to grilling. Right, Jake?" Jacob glanced at Tyler and recognized the beginnings of what could prove to be a foul mood, then nodded in agreement.

"We'll just be a second, ladies," Jacob announced. With that, Jacob and Tyler were off toward the kitchen to pick up their food. 

"So what do you do, Deirdre?"

"I run a daycare center." 

"Oh! That's wonderful. Do you and Jacob have any kids?"

"Not yet. We both want them but we also want to have a little more time just to ourselves." 

"Are you from here or did Jacob meet you in Boston?"

"Oh, I live in Boston. Lived there my whole life." Deirdre seemed distracted or even bored. "You know," she said, "you're the first woman Tyler's wanted us to meet." Callie sighed as she realized that this topic of conversation was Deirdre's priority, and it probably from the beginning. 

"You mean since Beth."

"Yes."

"What were the two of them like together?" Callie asked, though she worried that she might not want to hear the answer.

"I was only around for the second half of their relationship. I'm not sure what the beginning was like, but as far as I could tell, the two were cold with each other. They weren't cruel, just distant. There were rarely any spats, but not much affection, either. I would have worried Tyler was aloof by nature but he's so close to his brother and was very welcoming to me." Callie was relieved to hear someone else confirm what Tyler had told her, yet she couldn't help feel a certain compassion for him, spending all those years in a loveless relationship. 

"I'm glad to hear your perspective on all this. I've met Beth, and it worried me that we were so different. I've only heard what Tyler has to say about all of it."

"I know we've only just met, but I think I can already tell that you two are good for each other. You rile each other up. I've seen more passion between you already than I ever saw between him and Beth. And from the way he's talked to Jacob about you, I think he's very fond of you." Callie felt a twinge of guilt at this last declaration. She hadn't thought of the consequences of getting involved. It was supposed to be casual, but Tyler was already developing feelings for her. She hadn't counted on that complication. 

Relief surged through Callie when Jacob and Tyler returned with some readymade side dishes and all the ingredients they'd need for hamburgers and hot dogs. Conversation turned to lighter subjects and the guilt Callie had felt about Tyler was forgotten, at least for the time being. 

***

After Jacob and Deirdre had gone to bed, Tyler invited Callie into the living room to sit with him on a brocaded lounge of muted purple. 

"I think they liked you. I know they liked you."

"I liked them, too."

"Deirdre and you seemed to hit it off. What did you talk about? Me?" He took her hand in his own and caressed it.

"You may have come up, you narcissist." 

"I like you even when you're mean," he confessed, a faraway look on his face. "Maybe even more when you're mean."

"Tyler," she said, her tone serious. "Are you sure you aren't just pursuing me because I'm unavailable?" 

"I'm sure." He paused. "I haven't felt this way about anyone in a long time. Maybe not ever." Tyler took her face into his hands and kissed her. His hands roamed down her neck, over her shoulders, and to her back. He brought her down with him until she lay on the couch beneath him. 

"No, don't. I can't." He stopped and stared down at her but wouldn't budge.

"I wish you'd just explain to me what all these rules are about. I know there's something you're not telling me, and I can't stand it."

"I should go home." She tried to sit up but Tyler still refused to budge.

"Don't evade me." He tried to touch her hair but she turned her head.

"I'm sorry. I just can't explain it."

"All right. Then yes, maybe you should go." Tyler pushed himself up and off the couch. He escorted her to the door, both of them deathly quiet as they waited for Tyler's driver. When the driver finally showed, he escorted Callie to the waiting car and opened the door for her, where she slid into the backseat alone. 

On the car ride home, Callie couldn't remember the last time she had felt so conflicted and, well, awful. She was accustomed to fun. She knew how to navigate simpler relationships, like trysts or friends with benefits. With Tyler, she was out of her depth and floundering. The truth was that she was keeping a secret from Tyler, and it weighed on her more and more. She regretted a deal she'd made, a deal she once believed would help her. Now it just brought agony, and Callie wanted more than anything to be free of it.

Callie remembered the day that Denver had innocently asked whether she might be interested in a position as his personal assistant. Her employment as a blogger with his magazine was part-time only, and she had been struggling to find another job so she could finally make ends meet. It had seemed, at first glance, like the perfect opportunity. Like a prayer had been answered.

But he had requested that they hold their first meeting at his house, and that alone had made her uneasy for reasons that, at the time, she found difficult to explain. Under his watchful eye, she performed some very basic tasks that would have taken him less than an hour to do himself. And that's how it had continued for a little while, a few hours here and there each week in his home, her tasks ranging from light housekeeping to organizing his files. She hadn't understood then that she was being prepared, groomed for something more.

Then one day her boss had brought up the idea of an arrangement that he insisted could benefit them both. He spoke of it as innocently as if he were asking what she wanted for lunch. He explained that, if she took on a few additional responsibilities, he could pay her three times her usually wage. His proposition: in return for the raise, she would be expected to perform all of her usual tasks in his household nude. "For the time being," he had added ominously. Not only that, but he demanded her discretion and her faithfulness as well. Their "verbal contract," as he had put it, would disallow boyfriends. 

Her boss was an intimidating man, and Callie was sick with worry over her money problems. She had complied and convinced herself that her decision was her own, and one that she was satisfied with. She even told herself that she was lucky. But he was slowly changing the rules of their initial agreement, and he had recently begun to touch her, was even campaigning for Callie to sleep with him. And the time she spent with Tyler, coupled with her moments away from him, had made her acutely aware of just how miserable she was and how used and vulnerable she felt. Her field of vision had narrowed to the point of seeing Tyler only. And she desired Tyler only. 

Callie shuddered at the thought of letting her boss touch her again. Even letting him see her again would be too much to bear. And the guilt she felt at withholding this secret from Tyler was one more burden she could do without. 

Tyler was struggling himself. He had sunk back into the couch where he had tried to seduce Callie, a freshly poured glass of whiskey in his hand. If Callie had been any other woman, he would have slept with her by now. And he never would have put up with a woman so elusive, so closed off, especially not after Beth. Even Beth had been easier to court in the beginning. But Callie was unique, unlike any woman he'd met before, and that made her precious to him. He couldn't forget about her so easily. 

The mystery of her elusiveness remained. He thought that a cold shower might alleviate his situation, but once in the shower, he realized his mistake. All he could think of was Callie in the shower with him, her body made phosphorescent under water and the silvery bathroom lights. He considered calling up one of his short-lived flings, but the thought of bedding any of them again left him cold. 

He thought of her then not like the woman in the portrait above his desk but like one of his favorite paintings, Ingres's Grande Odalisque -- the impossibly long wing of her body spread out on silks; the wan, inscrutable look on her face. Tyler went to bed with this image seared in his mind's eye and endured a long, numbing, sleepless night. 

***

Tyler had missed Callie more than he was willing to admit. It had been a week since he'd seen her, and it had taken all his energy to act chipper around his brother and his wife. Unfortunately, they weren't blind, and before they had left for Boston the day before, Deirdre urged him to get to the bottom of what was troubling Callie. Failing that, he should at least try to make amends.

So Tyler made a special stop to see the florist and found a bouquet of rosebuds. He meant to surprise her, to make up for the first bouquet that he had brought her. But when he rang her doorbell, there was no answer. His call to her cell went straight to voicemail. It was late, a weeknight, and the fact that she wasn't at home nor answering her phone worried him. In his fantasy of how the night played out, he got to catch a glimpse of her in her robe, bedheaded. Hell, he had just wanted to see her, period. Feeling disheartened, Tyler sank against the door and waited. And dozed, and then waited a little longer.

It was midnight when Tyler finally gave up. He had waited just a little over two hours. His joints felt stiff as he rose from his cross-legged position. He carelessly dropped the bouquet in front of her door. What most incensed him was that he had let himself be needlessly hurt. She had warned him, but he had ignored her. To think that she was in some kind of trouble was too painful to consider, so he pushed the fear from his mind, focusing only on his anger. He flung open the door leading to the winding stairwell and flew down the steps, where he almost ran headlong into Callie. 

"Callie!" he gasped, steadying himself before he crashed into her.

"Tyler? What are you doing here?" She was startled, but there was also a note of worry in her voice. 

"Where were you?" Callie was taken aback by his tone. She was accustomed to his coolness and, before this, wouldn't have even been able to imagine him angry. As far as she was concerned, he had no right to be and it raised her ire.

"Why do you think it's any of your business?" she retorted hotly.

"Were you working? Or partying?" He evaded her question, his tone almost derisive, and Callie just stared at him dumbly. This incensed Tyler all the more. The heat trapped inside the stairwell had turned it into a chimney. It oppressed him and spurred his annoyance, his jealousy. "We never did talk about how sex fits into your 'rules,'" he snapped. "Were you fucking someone else? Your boss, maybe?" 

"You have no right!" she spat and slapped him unthinkingly, her eyes burning with the threat of tears. Tyler grabbed her raised wrist and used his body to force her backward until she was up against the wall, then pinned her arm to it. He kissed her hot and hard, then eased back to bite her lip. She gasped at the sting of it and bit him back. This just inflamed his passion further, and his mouth was on hers again, roughly invading. Callie surprised them both when, after the initial shock wore off, she began to respond to his advances. Her kiss was deep and languid, and time seemed to slow. The thought that she had bewitched him entered his mind. In his state, the idea was almost plausible. He thought again of an odalisque, intoxicating and dreamy. 

Tyler slipped his free hand under her dress and grabbed her ass, his fingernails cutting into that tender skin. It struck him that she wasn't wearing underwear, and this maddened him all the more. He grinded against her and felt satisfaction at the moan that followed. The feel of her firm against his body exhilarated him. Callie grasped the collar of his perfectly tailored, crisp button-up shirt and ripped it apart, right down to his navel, the buttons pinging against the metal of the steps as they flew. She kissed his throat, tongued the hollow above his collarbones, and left the singeing mark of her mouth on his nipple. Bringing her close to him, he slid down along the wall until the two of them were on their knees facing each other. He found the zipper at the back of her dress and pulled it as far as it would go, her sleeves slipping down her shoulders, revealing that she hadn't worn a bra, either.

Tyler reached up to hold Callie's face in his hands and, for a brief moment, they were sharply aware of the other and the reality of their situation. But their lust outweighed all reason. As if magnetized, they flew toward each other and kissed feverishly. There was no thought of being seen, no thought of the repercussions, their anger long forgotten as passion prevailed. He unzipped his trousers and fumbled for her, grasping again at her ass, raising her up and against him so he could find his way inside her, pushing his cock ardently, impatiently into her. Tyler's mouth silenced Callie's scream as he drove himself in, filling her so completely that she felt she might burst or split in half or faint. 

Tyler was drunk with the sensation of being inside Callie, buried as he was in her welcoming warmth. He watched intently as her eyes closed and she fell back, as though overwhelmed by him, arching her spine and putting her pert breasts just within reach of his mouth. She shuddered as he nipped at them, her eyes flying open as she felt his five o'clock shadow roughly grazing the sensitive skin.




Odalisque



Tyler slid out of her once again, and thrust upward, felt that she was matching his pace with her own eager thrusts. Somewhere inside him, there was a dim awareness that this was not how he had wanted it to be, that he had wanted her in his own bed, to possess her, yes, but to savor her, too. To make it last. He had envisioned something gentler than this wanton coupling on the stairs of her apartment building. 

He fought to stay present, to think only of how wet she was as he moved in her, how perfect the fit, how Callie had seemingly given herself entirely to the moment. He watched her, his eyes heavy as she rocked against him. Callie, for her part, was distantly thinking how it might have been more comfortable for them had they made it to her apartment, but she didn't regret this turn of events in the least.

As they moved together, Callie's hands explored his chest, his stomach, his sides. He was so solid, so masculine. She wondered at how smooth his skin felt over his firm muscle. She noticed then that the angle of his body had changed, that the base of his cock was now pressing against her clit. With a start, she realized that her pleasure was increasing, so slowly that she'd barely noticed it. Her face flushed as she looked at Tyler, finding a smug, animal look in his eyes that suggested he was well aware of just how she was feeling. He drove so deeply into her that the pressure made her gasp; she felt something fall away inside her and arched as she came. 

Tyler felt her pussy tighten around him and felt the pleasure of his own release flood him as he came. They leaned into each other, kissing lazily, their sweat-dampened faces pressed close. Tyler was still inside her, and they were, for a moment, lost in each other's nearness.

Reality returned to them quickly. Tyler looked up and down the stairwell, then at Callie. He started to move carefully, then lifted her up and stood with her, a tired look on his face.

"Sorry," he apologized sheepishly, tugging at his shirt, which was nearly stripped of its buttons. He forced a small laugh. "How did no one catch us?"

"It's late." She smiled serenely as he zipped the back of her dress. "And it's a weeknight. Lucky for us." 

"I am sorry, Callie." Tyler's expression was like a remorseful little boy's, all the casualness in his voice replaced by tenderness. He gingerly tugged her skirt down for her, smoothing out its wrinkles. "I should get going."

"Sure, of course." Tyler heard the bewilderment in her voice and felt a rush of guilt and confusion. He couldn't be sure what had come over him, but he did know that the way she was looking at him felt like an indictment for what he'd done. Before either of them had a chance to say anything more, Tyler was rushing down the steps and gone.

***

The next day, Tyler was in his own private hell. He couldn't remember when he started, but at some point during the morning he began to call Callie. She wasn't picking up. He couldn't believe what had happened. What he'd allowed to happen, he corrected himself. What he'd done. It would be a miracle if he hadn't ruined their already tenuous relationship. The truth was, he couldn't remember the last time anyone had shattered his cool. She'd made him angry, made him lustful. She'd burrowed deep.

After his tenth attempt to call her, Tyler gave up, at least for the time being. He surrendered himself to work. But the guilt and fear and self-doubt had soured in his throat, and he couldn't concentrate on the papers in front of him. 

That night, Tyler made a trip to Callie's apartment building with a bouquet of white roses. But there was no answer when he rang the doorbell. He put his ear to the door and heard nothing. Three hours passed before he gave up, leaving the bouquet in front of her door with a hastily written note that read, "I'm sorry. I want to see you again. Please call." He took his time walking down the stairwell, as though he might be lucky enough to run into her again, as though he might be able to relive that night and play it differently. 

***

It wasn't until three days later that he heard from her again by way of a letter in his mailbox. The envelope was unmarked. Tyler looked around as though she might have just left it and still be nearby, but he saw nothing. He tore the envelope open and read:

Tyler, after what happened between us last week, I wanted to explain my situation to you. It's important that you know, and I hope you can forgive me for not telling you sooner. I know you're mad, and I know you'll probably be even madder once you read this. The first time we met, you asked if I had a boyfriend. I told you no, and that wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the complete truth, either. I have a kind of relationship with my boss. Not a romantic one, but I am expected to stay faithful. In return, I keep my job and get paid extra. A lot extra. My salary is better than anyone else's I know. We don't have sex, though he's been pushing me lately. His requests are weird, to say the least. I spend the day in his house naked. Sometimes I do chores that way. Sometimes he touches me. He told me he'd fire me if I didn't go along with it. And I have so many student loans to pay. My family lives across the country, and they have their own problems. I resisted for a long time but eventually I just couldn't see any other way. And it seemed easy enough at first. I wanted to tell you. And I thought I was going to earlier. When you came to my apartment building and accused me of fucking my boss, it hit a nerve, and I reacted. I thought it'd be easier to say no. To you, I mean. And I tried, but I liked you too much. I'm going to end things with Denver, even if it means losing my job and my reputation. Even if I've already lost you. I hope you can forgive me. 

Tyler was livid at Denver and upset that Callie wouldn't have trusted him sooner. He couldn't believe that it had to come to this, and that only now was she willing to explain. Now that he'd probably ruined their relationship for good. 

It took Tyler several days to work through the confusion and anger and grief. More than anything, he had felt helpless. Callie was lost to him, out of his reach. It took four tortured nights and days before a plan began to take shape and for Tyler to see that there was some hope in an otherwise terrible situation.

For what seemed like the first time weeks, Tyler had regained some of his composure. It was this calm that he was accustomed to feeling, even known for, and he was relieved to have it back. Yet what he was about to do had real consequences if things didn't go quite the way that he had planned. But this was the kind of calculated risk that he felt comfortable with, especially considering what was at stake. 

It had taken him a few more days to put all the pieces together, to make all the calls and meetings that would be necessary to execute his plan. On his way inside Callie's office building, Tyler almost felt himself again, confident and purposeful. The receptionist was too distracted by a phone call to stop him. He found Denver's office door wide open and strode in. Denver sat at his desk and had looked up as soon as Tyler had entered. Tyler laid a stack of papers out on Denver's desk and began to talk. Denver stared, lips pursed, as Tyler launched into a speech.

"I've always valued directness in others so I'm going to forgo etiquette and tell you what I know." He sat down. "I know what you've made Callie do. I know what you're going to make Callie do. If you think I'm bluffing," Tyler bluffed, "I'll let you listen to a few choice voicemail messages that she was smart enough not to delete off her phone. Messages that you were stupid enough to leave. Now, I've had my lawyer write a few notes here," Tyler explained, tapping the papers between them. "I'd urge you to read them. They detail all the complications and consequences that stem from your actions. Thing is, if you do what we ask, we keep your secret." Denver opened his mouth to interrupt, but Tyler raised a hand to silence him. "You let her quit her 'secondary' position. She does the rest of her work for you from home. You pay her the same rate you did before, when she was your 'personal assistant.' In the meantime, Callie will look for another job. Once she finds one, we're both out of your hair."

"Blackmail." Denver's mouth had gone from pinched to wide open, his face black with fury.

"Sure, but there are worse words for what you did to Callie. I'd say we're being too easy on you. So, it's your choice." Denver fumbled with the papers in front of him, studying them with a glazed look. The silence between the two men seemed to last forever, which started to make even Tyler sweat.

"Fine." Denver finally acquiesced. His voice was terse, tight with suppressed violence. 

"Glad to hear it. Always a pleasure talking to you, Denver," he smiled and leaped from the chair. With a wave, he was gone, leaving Denver slack-jawed and bright red. On his way out, Tyler chose the stairwell over the elevator. As he just about skipped down the steps, he felt a pang of nostalgia.

He called Callie again when he was outside. She still wasn't answering, but this time, he felt hopeful. He left a message, explaining that she didn't have to worry about her "situation" anymore, that it was over. That he wanted to talk to her about it, and he hoped he'd hear from her soon. The only thing left for him to do was wait.

***

Callie had been terrified to write the letter. She would have been more terrified to call Tyler, and seeing him was out of the question. Sneaking around his house late at night to deliver a letter had not felt like her best moment. But she had been stuck so long that she'd never imagined getting away from Denver, that anyone might have wanted to help her. When she'd received his last message, she had felt a rush of relief. He knew everything, but he still wanted to see her. 

Callie parked sideways in Tyler's driveway. She took a moment to look at the house, wondering at the strength of the emotion she felt at simply seeing it again. The walk to the front door was nerve-wracking, and the thought that Tyler might have changed his mind occurred to her suddenly. She glanced from the doorbell to the doorknob and tentatively reached for the knob, which, to her surprise, turned easily.

Tyler saw Callie's dim silhouette in the study's doorway. He sat in the dark at his desk, alone. He leaned forward to turn on an antique bottle-green desk lamp.

"Callie. How did you get in?" 

"You left the front door unlocked. I was worried you might not open the door anyway."

"After what happened, I didn't think I'd ever hear from you again, let alone see you." As she moved out of the dark, he could plainly see the distress on her face. "Why don't you sit?" Callie nodded and dropped into the chair on the other side of the desk. He immediately regretted asking her to sit there and ached over their distance. With her sitting across from him, what was between them felt like a business matter.

"I've been feeling like maybe I didn't explain as well as I wanted to," she started.

"You don't have to explain anything to me, Callie."

"Yeah but, I think I'd feel better if I did. The truth is, I've always been comfortable, if that makes sense. What Denver asked me to do, well, I wasn't happy about it, but I didn't feel like I was being victimized. I don't have many hang-ups. I've never been the kind of girl who needs love to have sex, to be sexual." She hesitated, worried by what his reaction might be to what she'd said, what she was about to say. "But I think maybe that's different now. Now that I know you." Callie fidgeted in the chair and avoided Tyler's searching gaze, but he could tell she was getting emotional. "Do you forgive me?"

"No, but only because you don't need to be forgiven. You don't even need to apologize. I'm glad you told me. I don't know what I would have done in your situation. It's hard for me to imagine." She nodded as she reflected on his words, and then remembered something that he'd said in his message.

"What did you mean when you said you'd 'taken care of it'?"

"I talked to Denver today."

"You did what?" Callie's eyes widened. "What did you say?"

"We worked something out. You won't have to worry about him anymore. And you'll be paid the same amount and you still have your job, at least until you find something else. Then you'll be done with him for good."

"Tyler!" She couldn't quite believe it. "If that's true, then I can't thank you enough."

"My real concern is whether or not you forgive me." He looked down at his hands in his lap.

"For what?" Callie looked astounded.

"For what happened in that stairwell."

"That? Why would I need to forgive you?"

"I didn't exactly ask your permission." Tyler looked uncomfortable. He pursed his lips and set his jaw. 

"That's ridiculous. I never said no. I wanted it as much as you did. Probably more."

"I doubt that."

"I wanted you the first time we were alone," she confessed. "If you had tried to seduce me that first night, I wouldn't have been able to say no." Callie rose and circled his desk to meet him on the other side. She stood in front of him, and he eyed her hungrily, heavy-lidded with lust.

"I wanted you the first time I saw you." He placed one hand gingerly on her hip, massaging it, carefully moving her forward, closer to him. With a grin, she raised her leg and planted one heeled foot next to him on the seat of the chair. Her skirt rode up, offering Tyler a view of her inner thigh and panties. The pleasurable shock of Callie's daring move didn't faze him, and his hand was on her almost immediately, making a slow sweep of her thigh with the tips of his fingers. He brought his mouth down to the sensitive spot where inner thigh met knee, and she adjusted her leg to allow him easier access. 

"Turn around," Tyler ordered thickly. Callie looked surprised but complied, turning slowly, hesitantly. She felt his hands lift her skirt and gasped as he pulled her panties down until they fell around her ankles. She kicked the shoes off along with the underwear. She felt his hands again as he grabbed her by the hips and pulled her into his lap and gasped as she felt the insistent pressure of his arousal against her. 

She reminded him of a tableau vivant as she turned to the side, profile silhouetted against the golden glow of the desk lamp, lips slightly parted. 

"What do you like?" Tyler whispered, his fingers exploring. This time, skin against skin, the question took on new meaning. 

"I like your hands." Her hands reached out for his, tracing the veined skin. Her voice was small, almost shy. 

"What else?" He grinded against her, and she let out a long sigh as she arched her back. 

"I like this. I like you against me." She was throaty. He thrust up fiercely and she rocked to meet his movements. 

"Keep going."

Her voice came quieter this time. "I like you."

"I like you, too," he laughed breathlessly. "Hell, I more than like you." He gripped the base of her neck, placed his other hand on her hip as he tortured himself against her. She felt the molten spread of pleasure coursing through her now, flowing from the place where they met. But it wasn't enough for either of them.

"Face me now." She stood and turned, this time straddling him without hesitation. Their kiss was soft, her hair brushing the side of his face. He pulled her skirt up around her hips and brushed her pussy with his hand, so gently that he felt her shiver. His hand found her opening and slid a finger easily into her wetness. He slid a second finger in, and Callie gripped his shoulders as he began to pump them slowly, shallowly inside her. She thrust back, matching his steady pace, until she felt her desperation building and, unable to stand it any longer, fumbled for Tyler's zipper.

Tyler didn't need any more direction than that. He moved her hands away, undoing his zipper and lifting his hips as Callie pulled at his pants and briefs. She freed his erection, which brushed her thigh and made her tremble. He scooted forward to meet her hips and, after a moment of groping in the dark space between them, penetrated her with one deep thrust. 

Tyler kissed her cheek, her jaw, her neck. He grabbed the back of her head and bent her back easily, kissing her breasts through her thin shirt. The urgency was gone this time, he realized, and this time felt better than the first. He would allow them both the time to enjoy it. 

She rode him deliberately at first, delighting in finally having him without anger, without dishonesty, without needing to rush. But Tyler's thrusts became wilder and faster, and Callie yielded and matched his pace, showering his face with frantic kisses as he moaned below her. He bit her chin and kneaded her ass as he plunged as deeply as possible inside her.

Callie climaxed first, crying out into Tyler's shoulder as she tried not to be overwhelmed. She continued to ride him, not letting up even when he cried out with his own release. Callie's movements stilled as he wrapped a strong arm around her neck and pulled her down close to him, his other arm around her waist, his mouth meeting hers in a powerful kiss. 

Tyler's eyes were heavy as he pulled away. He lifted her off him and out of the chair, carrying her in his arms out of the study as she weakly protested, "What about my shoes and underwear?"

"You won't be needing them." He took her up a winding staircase that led to his bedroom and dropped her on the bed, onto an enormous blue bedspread that looked and felt like velvet. In the dim light of the room, she watched him disrobe with that same masculine grace she'd seen when she'd first met him. 

He was over her in an instant, pulling her shirt over her head, then rolling her over to unzip her skirt. For a moment, he straddled her as she lay on her stomach and kissed her bare back. Callie lost herself in the way his muscular thighs felt against her and was snapped out of her reverie as she felt his cock against her. She marveled at how hard he was already. 

And then he turned her back over and tugged her skirt away. "Perfect," he said as he admired her, naked and stretched out in front of him. He was on her again, his full length pressing against her, his mouth softly brushing her temple, one hand tracing a line up her side from hip to shoulder that made her shiver. Callie wrapped her legs around Tyler, who held her and rolled them both onto their sides where they faced each other. He played with her hair as her hand drifted down to caress his cock lazily. Tyler's eyes closed, and he sighed under her attention. She kissed him then, the lightest flick of lips against lips, and Tyler's eyes flew open as he pulled her closer to him to crush her mouth against his with barely restrained violence. 

Tyler maneuvered himself until his hard-on pressed Callie's thigh. She took him in her hand and guided him to her opening and he slid into her easily, up to the hilt, and caused her to cry out and dig her heel into his ass. He kept his thrusts measured, almost torturously slow, his eyes locked on hers as she sighed and trembled. They came together, tightening their grip on each other until they left red marks on dewy skin. Before Callie fell asleep in Tyler's embrace, her eyes flickered to the window for a moment, where the moon shimmered beyond the glass like a coin in endless blue. 

In the morning, Tyler woke first and eased himself up, doing his best not to jostle Callie. As he watched her sleep, he thought about her, how he'd come to know her. It was her looks he'd seen in the portrait of the 18th century woman, and it was her manner, her sensuality that he'd seen reflected in the painting of the odalisque, and maybe the coyness, a feeling that she was beyond his reach. But here she was in his bed, all the complications between them dissolved. The only life the paintings held was the life he had given them, but Callie was flesh and blood and soul and more.




Odalisque



When Callie finally woke, she found Tyler sitting up beside her in bed. He was reading a massive book and wearing little glasses.

"I didn't know you wore glasses."

"Well, I do. I never meant to hide that from you," he responded playfully. Callie sighed.

"I don't know why you put up with me," she blurted. "But I'm glad you do." Tyler put aside his book and the glasses. He watched her, and took a moment to ponder this. 

"Do I have to spell it out for you?"

"What does that mean?"

"I'm in love with you, Callie. I was crazy about you the moment I first saw you." Callie lifted herself up to sit beside him without bothering to cover herself up. She studied her hands in her lap, thinking frantically of what to say. She had never been good at expressing her feelings, and this would be a first in more than one way. But she couldn't think of anything worse than not responding to his declaration, especially when she felt the same way about him.

"I'm in love with you, too," she murmured without looking at him. Something in him surged forward, and his heart was in his throat.

"What's that?" he softly questioned as he turned her face toward his. 

"I love you, Tyler." It was a relief, she realized. To say it and to let herself feel it, after she had denied it for so long. Tyler reached for Callie and gently pulled her into his lap, both of them reveling in the warmth of each other's bodies and marveling at their luck at finally, fully belonging to each other.