Page 4 of Indiscreet

CHAPTER TWO

“This is you, Gia,” Astrid announced, bringing me out of my head and back to the limo the three of us were sharing for the ride home from the restaurant.

My thoughts were preoccupied for most of the trip, partially due to the buzz from the cocktails. It was also because of Liz’s glowing review of her experience with The Agency. Could going to a matchmaking company work the same way for me? I wasn’t convinced. It was late, so I quickly said goodbye to them with hugs and promises to get together over the holiday. I exited through the door held open for me at my new home.

Standing on the slate-paved driveway, I stared at the two-story stone and brick craftsman house with a double garage—quite the change from the sprawling governor’s mansion in Olympia. In the evening light, I took in its beauty, though the landscape was barely visible under the blanket of snow. The cypress and barberry shrubbery looked picturesque cloaked in white. The best part of it all: the peacefulness.

The second-floor master bedroom was where I headed, and it was the only one I used of the four in the house. I had updated it with a platform bed I’d ordered just before we separated. That is something I will keep, I decided after my shower. The demister was on, but still I wiped the steam off the large double mirror to finish up my cleansing routine, and I hesitated at my reflection. The thought of being naked in front of a new man made me nervous. Patrick wasn’t one to compliment me, but he always had a word to say when I didn’t meet his standards. Now, what would a new man see when I got naked for him?

My face was by far my best feature. Like my mother, I had long, arched brows that didn’t require much upkeep, dark brown eyes with long lashes, and full, well-shaped lips. My C-cup breasts were my second-best feature. Sure, I wanted a firmer tummy and buttocks, but doesn’t everyone? I’d be all right.

For the six years of our marriage, Patrick had been a rising star in politics. The job came with a team of consultants who imposed a set of restrictions to help him get ahead, and as his partner, I had to follow them too. The number one rule was not to overshadow him. Some of the limits, I complied with. I wanted him to succeed. For instance, I never wore attention-grabbing colors when we were in public. I also never wore heels because at five eight, I towered over his five-six frame. Those restrictions had become second nature, doable; the constant micromanaging—not so much. Then came the final straw: his lack of interest in having sex with me. That position—missionary, as I recalled from the three times we’d had sex in the last year—had been given to my replacement, his soon-to-be fiancée, Hannah. She was twenty-two, and only five foot two.

Of course, I had nothing against her height. My cry of foul play came from her having an affair with him while we were married. It takes two, and one was married, but she had only been the tip of his iceberg of treachery. His other mistresses I found out about after I filed for the divorce. Each one was a cut on my heart, pride, and confidence. I took the last bit of my ego I had left the day I found them together and left him.

Finishing up, I slipped on a nightgown and made a mental note to get new lingerie. I was about to plug my phone in to charge when I noticed a new text from Liz.

Liz: Marco contacted The Agency and they offered a screening appointment for tomorrow. I told them yes, sorry it’s so fast, but once it’s done you can go to the next available mixer. I can’t go, but I promise you’ll have a good time. The appointment is at 11 a.m. sharp. They send their own cars. It’ll take a few hours. Thank me later.

I shook my head and smiled. That was Liz. She wasn’t one to waste time if she could help it, but was I ready?

I sighed heavily and set my alarm for nine. Climbing into bed, I read on my Kindle for a while and then tried to masturbate. For the life of me, I couldn’t get myself to climax. My mind went to the last time I tried to have sex with Patrick.

“Harder. Fuck me harder,” I instructed. “Grab my hair.”

Patrick huffed in exertion and pulled out of me. His body was covered in sweat. “What’s your problem?”

I averted my eyes and moved onto my knees. “I just thought we’d try something different.”

“What now?” he said in a condescending tone.

I bit my lip. “How about you hold my arms while you fuck me?”

“Stop saying that word,” he said. “I am…we are having sex. You’re just being difficult.”

I sighed heavily. “I’m not trying to be.”

He stretched out on his side, facing me. “Are you trying to make me hurt you?”

“No,” I mumbled. “I just thought we could maybe spice things up a bit.”

I let my hair fall over my face to avoid the disdain on his face, though it was unavoidable in his tone. “Spice by being rough? I’m not doing that! That’s perverted.”

My stomach churned. “You mean I’m perverted?”

“I didn’t say that,” he said, rubbing my back. “Come on, give me a break. I’ve been working hard all day.”

I turned over on my back and opened my legs while he stretched out on top of me. He was back on autopilot, moving mechanically above me while I breathed in and waited until he cried out his climax. When he was done, he rolled over and kissed my head. “Did you come or do you need…?”

“I’m fine. It was great,” I said with a forced lift to my voice. I waited until I heard his snoring then got up and went to my bathroom.

I pulled out my vibrator from the back of my vanity drawer and placed it against my clitoris. My eyes shut tight as I slipped away, imagining the faceless man of my fantasies fucking me. He was taking me hard, controlling me, owning me.

***

I tried to find out more about this agency before I went to my meeting, but my search online came back with nothing. Though my curiosity was thoroughly piqued, I understood my experience would more than likely be different than Liz’s. After my frustrated attempt at masturbation, I wasn’t up for spending more time without company.

If The Agency resulted in nothing more than meeting a man and having good sex instead of dates, I was still game. With that in mind, I climbed into the black Mercedes that arrived at 10:30 a.m. and went to my appointment. Given the weather, I chose a scoop-neck sweater, woolen slacks, and boots, though the car ride was warm and comfortable.

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