She will be mine. Somehow, someway, I would find a path to her. I pulled away abruptly, leaving her gasping and incomplete. She stared at me in confusion, her pleasure interrupted, her expectations shattered. "What's wrong?" she asked, searching my face for answers. She thought I needed her to continue differently, a natural conclusion given our usual pattern, so she sat on her knees right there on the elevator floor, not caring about the dirt or germs. I tried to enjoy it, the warmth and wetness, the sight of her expensive haircut moving before me, but then I pulled away, my mind elsewhere. It was of no use. I pushed back into my pants and zipped them up with finality.
I pushed the elevator button that had a P on it for parking, eager to escape this confined space and the woman in it. She adjusted herself hastily, tugging her torn dress back into some semblance of order, and placed her hand on my chest, her touch no longer welcome. "What's the matter?" she asked with curiosity tinged with hurt. "Did I do something wrong? You seem a million miles away." I threw her a glance that was filled with disgust, for her, for myself, for this whole sordid situation. "I don't want to see your face again," I hissed, the words sharp and final. She clutched my jacket while I was stepping outside the elevator as the doors opened to the concrete expanse of the parking garage. Her desperation was palpable, her voice breaking as she said, "But I LO...." I cut her off before she dug a hole that she wouldn't be able to get out of, before she spoke words that would change the nature of our arrangement irrevocably.
"Don't speak," I said, my voice cold as ice. "Don't say it. I have no interest in you and I will never feel anything towards you beyond the physical. I cannot respect someone who betrays trust, spreading falsehoods while your husband travels for work. You acted without a second thought. I could only care for someone truthful and sincere. Back off. Get out of my life, or I will reveal everything about your behavior. I'll tell everyone what you've done." I stormed off to the parking lot, leaving her standing in the elevator doorway, makeup smeared and dress torn, a picture of abandonment. I hopped inside my black Porsche, the engine purring to life beneath my hands like a well-fed predator. I started up the car and drove away, tires squealing on concrete, while asking myself one question that echoed in the emptiness of the vehicle: "Did I really mean that? Would I only fall for someone genuine and truthful? Is that what Bianca represents to me?"
I thought that I had made a vow with myself to never fall for anyone, not even someone with questioning eyes and a hesitant smile. "Emotional complications are something I don't need," I'd always told myself. "God!" I cried, slamming my hand against the steering wheel. "All of this confusion is because of Bianca! One innocent consultation and my world turns upside down." I wish that I had never met her, that she'd chosen another doctor, another clinic, and I hope she won't show up tomorrow for her scheduled follow-up. But even as I thought it, I knew I was lying to myself. I wanted to see her again. Needed to see her. And that terrified me more than anything else.
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### **Bianca's POV**
The first day went well, and I swear my plan showed some real promise right off the bat. I sat in my car outside his clinic and replayed every moment in my mind. "You've got this, Bianca," I whispered to myself in the rearview mirror, catching my own nervous smile. I knew it couldn't end well, though—this was playing with fire and I might get burned. This was just a start; a dangerous step that might send me straight to hell without a return ticket. "What am I doing?" I asked myself, but I already knew the answer. It definitely hadn't made things easier when I discovered that Dr. Adrian was sexy as hell—like, movie star gorgeous with those piercing eyes that seemed to look right through me. He was, as the book of beauty described, an absolute god of sex walking among mere mortals. "'Lord have mercy,' I'd muttered under my breath when he first walked into the examination room, all confidence and perfect jawline. He was supposed to be my future stepfather! He was my enemy!
I know that I'm a virgin, but honey, I'm not innocent at all—not by a long shot. "'Being a virgin doesn't mean clueless,' I often told my girlfriends when they teased me about my 'status.' Being a virgin doesn't mean that I'm a nerd with thick glasses who doesn't know how sex works, or some helpless damsel who can't resist a hot man with a charming smile. 'I've seen things that would make your toes curl,' I once told my roommate when she suggested I needed to 'loosen up.'" On the contrary; what I have faced and lived with almost all of my childhood, up until my teenage years, gave me enough experience to play the playgirl, who turns on every single guy at will, without ever being penetrated.
"'Men are so predictable,' I'd laugh with the few friends I trusted. 'Just a hint of interest and they're following you around like puppies.'" Yes, I'm smart as a whip, and I have always had complete control over myself and my body—iron control that surprised even me sometimes. "'My body, my rules,' became my personal mantra by sixteen. I haven't allowed any guy to fuck me because I didn't want them to, not because I was searching for a man like my father, as I'd told Dr. Adrian in that ridiculous story I concocted. 'You need to make him feel special,' I'd coached myself. 'Make him think he's different.'"
It was because I have suffered emotionally from having a cheating mother who destroyed our family one affair at a time. "'You'll never be like her,' I promised myself in the mirror every morning. I found out that my mother is a slut when I was almost eight—walking in on her kissing a man who wasn't my father in our kitchen. "'Mommy has a friend over,' she'd said, smoothing her rumpled blouse. 'Go play outside.'" So, yeah, that was too early to learn such a thing about one's mother, about the woman who's supposed to be your role model. I tried to convince myself that it was not true, that I'd misunderstood something innocent. "'Daddy's friends hug mommy too,' I'd told myself, trying to make sense of the adult world. It wasn't until I saw with my own two eyes that I accepted it as truth. She'd been spanking another man passionately in my father's study while he was away on business. "'Oh God, right there,' she'd moaned, while I stood frozen in the doorway. I'd just turned eleven and life would never be the same.