heartbreaker
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Some people cry and some people die
By the wicked ways of love
But I'll just keep on rollin' along
With the grace of the Lord above

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Only when the sun began to rise over the horizon did I consider leaving his side. Mr. White had written a lot that night. We both agreed to put the 'you're married and we can't make love' argument to rest. We couldn't do anything about it, so crying about it was only making our relationship harder. I just sat on a chair, knees against my chest, and remained silent. My body was still wrapped in the blanket, and the warmth was enough to keep me cozy. I watched him from a safe distance, thinking about my feelings for my writer. Maybe I was supposed to do that as a muse after all.

We couldn't help ourselves; we were already infatuated with one another. I, of course, denied it. I couldn't bear falling in love with a man I could only have in my head. It was too humiliating. He was more open and honest about his twisted way of loving. He had an almost theatrical way of expressing his feelings, but I wasn't surprised: actors and writers come from the same world.

"What are you so troubled about, my darling?" That was the first thing Mr. White asked me after putting down his pen at five o'clock in the morning. It was as if nothing from that evening had ever happened.

"I'm not sure." As soon as I met his gaze, I lazily closed my eyes. With those pitch-black dilated pupils, he was studying my expression in an almost painful way. "Maybe I don't want Marie to be as greedy as I am."

He leaned back and observed the various sheets of paper on his desk. Marie reminded me a lot of myself. Even though she came from a world very different from mine, we both shared that melancholy that Mr. White adored. "She's not." He assured me. "But she might become a little greedy later on." It wasn't a promise and maybe she'd evolve in a different way, but I still worried.

"If that serial killer character is anything like you, I'm quite certain she will." Then I crawled out of my chair and stood behind him. He closed his eyes and I felt the tension from his body leave the room, as if he knew what I was about to do. I hugged him, the blanket falling and leaving me half naked once more. He threw back his head and relaxed against my chest, his gray hair tickling my sensitive skin.

"Can't you stay a few more hours?" My knees weakened at his raspy whisper. That man's power over me was exhausting.

"Mr. White, you should learn to let me go." I replied sweetly in his ear before kissing him from cheek to neck. Then he lifted one of his big, strong hands, cupped half of my face with it, and caressed me as if I were something he treasured.

We were inches away from kissing when he turned around. When he gently rubbed his nose against me, I almost felt like giving. I could feel his breath blending with mine, and all I could think about was his tongue and how much I wished he would use it on me.

"Let me go, Mr. White..." I couldn't get myself to step away from him. His lips barely brushed against mine, and I let out a moan as a jolt of pleasure reached my inner thighs. I could tell he was completely immersed in the moment because his eyes were still closed, but I wanted to break that moment as soon as possible.

Mr. White's fingers moved down to my neck and wrapped around it, tightening the grip. I was inebriated by the hazy sensation of asphyxiation, and my breath became a sigh against his lips. With the tip of my tongue, I touched his upper lip. He kept his mouth slightly opened and never reciprocated my wet touch. He squeezed my neck more firmly before releasing, giving me both heaven and hell.

It all lasted a few seconds. We both knew we couldn't go any further. My knees were so weak that as soon as I walked out of that office after putting my dress back on, I crouched against the closed door.

Cool down, Audrey.

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The following morning, I awoke fairly late. It was the first time in a long time that I had overslept. Tina was on speaker as I wandered around the kitchen. My new experiment was baking in the oven, and I could smell its sweetness from the other room. My love for baking had returned for some reason. I had lost a love to depression at some point.

"By the way, did something good happen?" When I wasn't so close to the kitchen island, I had to yell a little.

"Actually, yes."

"Did Paul finally ask you out?"

"Huh? Abso-fucking-lutely not."

She was embarrassed, I knew that much. Tina could become very aggressive if she felt she was being investigated. Even though she couldn't see me, I raised an eyebrow, perplexed. My deafening silence was enough to get her to spill the beans.

"Well, we did have sex."

That was completely unexpected. My mouth dropped open, and she continued with her story as I elaborated on what she had just said.

"It happened at the party. He was upset because of something Carla said, so I brought him a drink upstairs, and he angry-fucked me against a wall." She paused for a few seconds and cleared her throat to get the embarrassment out. "But that's not the reason I'm happy."

"It's not?" I was still flabbergasted. "Wait a minute, one thing at a time. So you had sex, and then what?"

"And then he said he's sorry." Tina loudly sighed. "That he didn't want to do that and that he was blowing the steam off because of how angry he was."

"What a jerk."

"I don't want to talk about it." She puffed. "Great news is that I got a job offer in the States and I'm going to accept. Ta-daaa."

My hands abruptly ceased to move. Immediately, my attention turned to the phone, and I made an effort to sound as happy as I could for her. "Oh, Tina, really?"

"Yeah, I can finally become a journalist."

"That's great! We should totally celebrate."

"I already told Carla, she's throwing this goodbye dinner for me. Do you think Paul knows it yet?"

"They do talk about everything."

"Shit I really wanted it to be a secret. By the way, how are things going with mister yummy grandpa, huh?"

I hesitated for a split second. My brain was telling me that it needed some rest. The weight of this strange love was crushing me, and I needed to tell someone. So I did. I took my time revealing everything to Tina. She listened quietly, and I was relieved when she didn't sound judgy by the end of my story.

"Fuck." She snorted. "Grandpa is actually pretty hot."

"Stop calling him that–"

"Rey." She shushed me. "How are you going to deal with this? It's an ambiguous relationship, you'll end up getting hurt."

"I don't know. It seems like each time I put distance between us, he finds a way to come back to me. And as long as it's not cheating–"

She interrupted me again, with her blunt way of reproaching me. "You know very well that he's already cheating, 'Rey. Don't hide the behind 'we don't fuck so it's not cheating' excuse, because it doesn't work that way."

She was so right. He'd been cheating on his wife since he asked me to be his muse. He had said mutely 'I want you' that day. If I had been in his wife's shoes, I would have considered it cheating.

"Shit." I was so frustrated.

"Listen, Rey. If you don't feel like cutting him off right now, just do it slowly. You should date more, and maybe you'd fall in love with someone else if you gave it a chance."

Archer came to mind. I was surprised at myself. "Holy shit, why did I just think about Archer White?" I said in a disgusted tone. Archer was not a bad person, but going after his son was not an option. Even though he did deserve it a little, that old sexy bastard. "I need to meet new people. I don't want to give Dawson any weird ideas, and I'm not sleeping with Mr. White's son."

"Well then, put your sluttiest outfit on, girl," Tina emphasized her sassy attitude. "Cause we're clubbing tonight."

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