Page 75 of 12 Days

Chapter 30

Alyssa

Who the fuck do they think they are? Are they fucking kidding me? I’m not some floozy to be fucked and used. I can’t believe these guys.

To them, women are merely objects of physical gratification. Pussies to fuck. Mouths to suck them off.

Fuck them.

I storm out. I come straight home and I slam the door, throwing my briefcase on the couch.

I don't even know why I went there today. This assignment should have been over days ago. I have what I need. There’s no reason for me to go back to True Love. I've just been going back for days just to see them.

I slip out of my clothes by the door and toss them on my briefcase. I walk into my kitchen and yank open my refrigerator, but nothing inside looks good. I'm not hungry for food.

I grab a bottle of 2012 Napa Valley merlot off the counter, and pour myself a glass on my way to the bathroom. I run the bath, trying desperately not to think about True Love, 12 handsome men, and a gaggle of beautiful assistants. The running water drowns my flurry of thoughts for a moment. I grab some lavender bath oil and pour it in the scalding water.

As I sink into the water, inhaling the scent of lavender, I take a sip of wine and reflected on my actions today.

I probably shouldn't have stormed out earlier. I don’t know what they were expecting, but storming out was childish. I am better than that, but I couldn’t be in that room with them for another minute.

I don’t know what I would have done if I had stayed. I am afraid I would have said something I’ll regret. I don’t know what I would regret at this point. Telling them I never want to see them or forgiving them.

What the hell have I been thinking? I have spent the last 8 days not doing my job. I found the formula days ago. I know exactly what I should be doing, and I’ve let myself indulge. I’ve fallen into their decadent world.

I don't know why I’m expecting more from them, when I just met them, for fuck’s sake. What more do I want? I got myself off in their waiting room the very first hour I met them. Why do I expect them to treat me with more respect than the women they interview and employ specifically for their talents in the bedroom and the boardroom?

Who the fuck do I think I am? As far as they could tell, I’m just some floozy that they treat amazingly.

They rented me a restaurant, took me on a hot air balloon ride. They listen to me. None of them ever used me just for sex. If anyone is being used, it was them.

They have seduced me, yes, but made me feel like the only woman in the world, like I have a buffet of men I don’t even have to choose from.

Two weeks ago, all I knew about True Love was the names of the twelve men who ran it, and the fact that someone with pull at the FDA wanted them out of business. Two weeks ago, they didn't know a damn thing about me. They didn’t even know my name.

I came in and I used them. I should be grateful for the time I spent with them.

The water's getting cold. I pour myself another glass of merlot and run the hot water again. I lay back in the tub and listen to the water lapping at my skin.

I think back to before I went to True Love, when I thought having a warm bath was already decadent. Less than a month ago, my greatest pleasure was drawing a hot bath and relaxing with a glass of wine after a tough day at the office. So easy to fall back into old habits.

My hand traces the curve my breast, then down my torso and between my thighs. Every inch of me has felt pleasure from every inch of them. I know better now how great pleasure can be.

There is more to life than work and these tiny mundane pleasures. I want more than Bath and Body Works lavender oil and a $15 bottle of wine. I want to be caressed. I want to feel hands and mouths on my body.

I tease my own pussy lips and think about these last few days. I’ve never been so delightfully used in my life.

The water is warm, and I start to relax. My muscles melt into the hot bath. I feel myself opening up again. I want to let go and give myself over the pleasure. I bring my hand away from my pussy and pick up my wine glass again.

I take another sip of wine and look out the bathroom door. I can see my briefcase sitting on the couch from here. I think about the formula I have tucked away in a pocket of that case. I am good at my job. I am intelligent and worth so much more than just my body.

I’ve never in my romantic life let myself be just a fuck. I’ve always waited until the third date, as difficult as that can be, before jumping into bed with someone.

I think I've lost sight of that part of myself. Something in that conference room made me feel wanton. I let go, and they dragged me into their little world of debauchery.

There may not have been any beds involved but, I came all over a very expensive couch within an hour of meeting them. I abandoned my usual cautious self when I first caught sight of their twelve beautiful faces.

What were they thinking as they were watching me? They had to know I was fantasizing about them. I blush thinking back to that. I can’t believe I let myself get that carried away.

---