Chapter 2: An Emotional Outburst

I wasn't any better. The moment Leila's fingers brushed me, a current seemed to race across my skin. I crawled out of the wardrobe, still bent at the waist, and, hunched over, said, "Leila, maybe I should just hide under the covers?" Leila blinked, then understood at once. She let out a little giggle. "The sheets are a mess," she said, "Just take a shower." I did not grasp what "a mess" meant until I turned and saw the damp patch. I lost it again. The images I had conjured in that cramped wardrobe replayed in cruel clarity. The man had said Leila was especially sensitive today. Before I knew it, I took a step forward, staring at Leila as if I were about to do something I should not. She read the want in my eyes. Her pale hand flew up to cover her chest. "Andy Cutmore," she snapped, in a soft but scolding tone. That single call sent a shiver through me. I was shy by nature, and she counted as my elder. I caved instantly. "Leila, I'm sorry. I… I…" I stammered, not knowing what to do with my hands. "Pfft," she snickered, "With a spine that flimsy, you still tried to make a move on me? Honestly, no man is decent." Seeing she was not angry, I blurted that I would shower and fled to the bathroom. While the hot water beat my shoulders, her words kept echoing in my head. She had teased that I was timid yet still had wicked thoughts. Was she hinting I should be bolder? Halfway through, there came a soft series of taps against the frosted glass.  Leila said she had dried my clothes and left them by the door, and that she would make breakfast. I answered, finished up, and slipped into the clean clothes. When I reached the dining area, I realized she was still in a loose robe. She sat in a chair, legs crossed under the table, one foot slightly raised in a pose that was insanely tempting. When she saw me, she called me over to eat and added that her boyfriend had found me a job. "Give it two days," she said, "We'll hear something." "I already have a job, Leila," I said, hedging. "I can only do part-time." She curled her lip. "You call that a job? Six hundred a month? They're ripping you off." Heat climbed my face at her words, and I felt a pit in my stomach. Fresh out of university, I had no experience, no leverage. Everything I studied for three years felt useless-like it was all for nothing. We were exploited all the same. In Jenton alone, hundreds of thousands graduated every year. The competition was a beast. I sighed inwardly. Thinking of my family, I clenched my jaw. "Fine, Leila. I'll do whatever you say." She smiled, finally satisfied. Then she lifted one small foot and set it on my thigh, rubbing lightly. "Be good and listen to me. Work hard. Later, I will give you a proper reward." Her cherry lips parted. She ran her tongue slowly over her lower lip. She drew out the word "reward," her tone teasing and coy. I was bewitched. I agreed without much hesitation. Leila told me her boyfriend's name was Sullivan Showyer. He had a wife and a family. As for her, she was his mistress, the other woman. She wanted me to work at Sullivan's private club. She also wanted me to find out whether he kept yet another woman somewhere. That's when it hit me. No wonder he had not come at night. He had shown up at dawn, had his way, and left.  So Leila was just a plaything to him. With that thought, I couldn't help giving Leila a wry look. Her soft foot still moved idly against my thigh. I could not help it. I took her foot in my hand and kneaded it. "What if he really does have someone else?" "Take a guess," she said softly, her expression clouded with melancholy. I had no idea what to say. Her foot lay warm in my hand. I traced each toe with my fingertips. A stray thought struck me. If Sullivan was cheating on her... "Leila, last night… were you the one who took off my clothes?" I ventured. "Mm. They were filthy, scuffed with shoe prints from being kicked. What else was I supposed to do?" Halfway through, she seemed to catch my drift. She clicked her tongue at me and shot me a look. "Always thinking dirty. Don't you think I'm too old for you?" I shook my head. "You're only twenty-six or twenty-seven. It's when a woman is at her most alluring." She laughed and called me a little rascal. "I never took you for being this naughty." I chuckled, let the rest die on my tongue, and kept massaging her foot. She seemed to relish it. After we ate, Leila went to tidy up. I took the chance to look around. Only then did I realize she lived in a one-bedroom apartment. No wonder, when Sullivan came, I could hear everything through the thin walls. This place had only one bedroom and one bed. Which meant last night I had really fallen asleep holding her. The thought made me grin. I kept touring the space. It was small, but the decor was quite refined, with a cozy, cottage vibe. "Leila, is this place yours?" I asked. "Mm. More or less," she said. Housing in Jenton was expensive. Even a place around 650 square feet ran about fifty to sixty thousand dollars. Her evasive answer made me guess the apartment was a gift from Sullivan. That made me think of Stephanie Zimmerman. I had seen her get into a BMW behind my back. I wondered if she could sell herself for the price of an apartment. Stephanie was strikingly pretty, a campus beauty. Back then, I thought she was the real deal, not materialistic at all, willing to be with a broke kid like me. Later… not so much. Thinking about it, I let out a self-mocking laugh. When I looked back at Leila, I found myself looking at her with a hint of contempt. "Women," I muttered, "what's it like to sleep with a man you don't love?" I brooded and felt regret. Three years in college, and other than a peck on Stephanie's cheek, I had never crossed the line. "The more I put you on a pedestal, the less I was worth to you." My thinking got twisted. Moments ago, I had thanked Leila for saving me. The next moment, I despised her for being a mistress. All my bottled-up bitterness stirred. I rose, numb, and drifted into the kitchen.  Leila was washing dishes. She turned at the sound. "What are you doing?" I said nothing. I grabbed her and kissed her hard. Her robe was loose to begin with; it slid off under my hands. In a blink, a wide expanse of pale skin filled my vision. I did not pause. I closed my fingers around her full breasts and growled, low and ragged, "You women are the ones with dirty minds-you go for guys who are bold and a little wicked." Stumbling over the words, I yanked at my belt and pressed Leila onto the kitchen counter.