Page 46 of The Ground Beneath Our Feet
I followed him shortly after.
In the morning when I woke up, he was gone. The warm sheet next to me and the indentation in the pillow told me I hadn’t been dreaming.
He’d really been there.
Before, he’d told me I was beautiful, and that he was only helping me to lose weight because I’d asked him. He’d told me he liked me the way I was.
Did he want more?
Knowing that his arm had been around my waist, that he’d pressed his hardness into the back of me, woke up my body. This was a different touch than getting a massage, or even his normally affectionate hugs and kisses.
With the way he turned me on, I knew that I wanted more from him.
I stood, waiting for the printer to spit out the declarations that Amelia needed to sign. Grabbing them, I walked into her office, equipped with a pen for her.
She sat at her desk, talking on the phone, saying, “. . . I know, right? But you know how he is, Marie. I think he’ll love them.” Twirling her dark hair, she clicked on her computer, and then looked up and noticed me. Her face paled and then reddened. “I gotta go. Come visit this weekend, if you can.” Putting down the phone and smiling, she said, “Got something for me?”
“Declaration for additional discovery.”
“I’ll give you my John Hancock.”
As I walked around her desk to hand her the pen to sign, she jostled her mouse and her computer screen came to life. Six shots of Amelia wearing black lace lingerie and not much of it.
“Ohmigod,” she said, “I’m so sorry.” And then she started stammering, “I had these done for Ryan, and the photographer just emailed me, and I was forwarding them to my not-work address, and oh shit—”
“Don’t worry. They’re beautiful. I wish I could do something like that.”
She cocked her head to the side thoughtfully. “Why don’t you think you can do them?”
“Look at me.”
“I repeat, why don’t you think you can do them?”
“Because I weigh too much,” I admitted.
“Size has nothing to do with it, Jessica. This photographer is fantastic. Hang on.” Amelia leaned over and fished in her purse. “Here’s her card. You should do it. Whether or not you ever show them to anyone else.” She gave me a knowing smile.
I wanted to look again. “Don’t think I’m weird, but can I see them again?”
“Sure.” She clicked on the screen. Amelia’s dark hair and violet eyes contrasted with her creamy skin. Wearing a black lace bra and matching panties, she lounged on a chaise lounge on her side, looking at the camera. Seduction, personified. But also self-confidence.
I wanted to be seductive like that. I wanted to feel wanted in that way.
Maybe I would do it. I should do it.
An hour or so later, I went to the coffee shop to get my skinny latte, and Cherry was there as usual.
“Can I ask you something personal?” I asked.
“Sure, lovey. Come sit.” She patted the seat next to her, and I sat down.
“How do you do what you do?”
“What do you mean?”
“You seem to just be having a ball out of life. You just go up to people and get what you want. How do you do that?”
“I decided one day that this is my chance. This is the body I’ve got. And I can either hate it, or I can love it. I decided to love it, even if it’s not what society thinks is perfect. As Mae West said, ‘I’m a woman of very few words, but lots of action.’”
