"What?" The question was so out of the blue that I didn't know what to make of it.
"I'll order pizza. We can eat and talk and get to know each other. We can watch a movie?" he offered.
"Asher..." I paused, stared, grabbed my skirt from the floor and squeezed it between my hands. "Yes, I'd like that. I like mushrooms. And ham. I usually ask if they can go light on the cheese. Anything else is fine, too. I'm not picky."
"Not picky?" He asked, sounding unconvinced. Grinning, he stood up. "Alright. I'll be right back."
He left me in his library basement, disheveled and half-clothed. I relished the idea of sitting with him, eating pizza like a couple and watching a movie. Talking. Leaning my head against his shoulder while he put his arm around me.
I needed to refrain from that, though. I needed to pull back and stop this right now. Asher accepted me, gave me a second chance, and though he'd acted in a fit of passion again, I didn't think we could do this anymore. Especially with his wife returning.
Some fluke, he might say. I'd apologize profusely to her, beg her to accept, and somehow Asher had decided he would weave in a request for me acting as her surrogate. Egg donation, pregnancy, their child in my womb. Except it would be partly my child, too, wouldn't it? Not exactly, but somewhat. My egg and his seed, but it was for her, his wife. Beatrice.
Could I handle that, though? Could I do any of this? I'd agreed so quickly, and I didn't have any real reasons for it.
That was in the long term, though. Thinking shorter, could I even manage to survive dinner with them tomorrow? Asher, yes, perhaps, but I pictured Beatrice, some cool, calm woman screaming at me and demanding I leave, threatening Asher with divorce, or more. I had no right to ask if he had a prenuptial agreement with her, but if he didn't I could very well be his downfall.
And then what would Asher think of me?
There was no reason to worry about it right now, I told myself. Tomorrow, dinner, I had plenty of time until then to think of what I was going to do and say.
His Absolute Desires
I sat on the couch waiting for Asher to return, feeling calmer than I had in months. Years, maybe? I didn't know for sure and couldn't have said why—since I felt like I should be anxious—but I felt wonderful. Asher, the man I'd met only a couple days ago, the CEO of Landseer Enterprises, was off ordering us pizza.
And a movie! I wondered what movies he might have. Did he watch classics, like Casablanca, or did he prefer newer movies? Comedies? Action films? Or, dare I think it, romance? The latter was, perhaps, awkward wishful thinking. I didn't actually care what kinds of movies he liked, or what in particular we watched, but I enjoyed the idea of sitting in his guest home and watching a movie with him. By ourselves, alone, with pizza, like some kind of casual date.
Of course it wasn't a date, but some small part of me had classified it as that. He had a wife, told me multiple times he needed to be faithful to her, but why? I didn't want to ruin his marriage, not by a long shot, but I wanted him to be happy. She left for weeks at a time from what he mentioned, and when she was here she rarely spent time with him from what I knew, so it wasn't a very expressive marriage. Convenience and association, and since they both came from well-to-do families it made sense, but that didn't mean marriage needed to be that way.
There was love and passion. Fervid desire and anticipation. There was emotion, like butterflies caressing your skin and sinking into your stomach, making you feel weak in the knees and oh so wonderful. I knew Asher was fully capable of these feelings and of making someone else feel them, too. He'd shown me passion aplenty in his office when I first met him. Just last night he'd shown me even more, too. He had love and desires and excitement bottled up inside of him, begging to get out, but he had no way to release them.
I wanted all of him. He was rich, yes, but that wasn't what was important to me. I wanted his affection and his love, his release and his happiness. Maybe that was why I accepted his request to act as an egg donor and surrogate mother for his infertile wife. It was an awful, horrible, horrendous idea, and I knew in the end I would come to regret it if—or more like, when—the entire ordeal was over and Asher and I parted ways, but I felt like I needed to do it anyways. For him, for his happiness, and for a brief glimpse of happiness for myself, too.
Asher was kind. He was aloof and dominant and sometimes too aggressive. I don't think he knew exactly what he wanted in his life, even if he had precise control over everything regarding his career and his finances. He was quiet and isolated and the sort of person who preferred curling up in his private library with a good book over attending fancy parties and showing himself off to the general public. He was a lot of things that a lot of people probably wouldn't like, but he was everything that I wanted.
I desired him beyond belief. His touch, himself, his warmth and his body pressing against me as he whispered words of adoration into my ear.
Unfortunately it was not to be. I knew this, and he'd said it, and despite the fact that we'd gone against it and I'd made him feel terrible about cheating on his wife, I knew it couldn't happen again. I understood that and I told myself to let it go, but some part of me refused to accept it. A passing fancy, something stuck into my head that would come loose over time, dislodge, and vanish as quickly as it appeared. Whim, pure fantasy, and nothing more.
That's what I told myself, but I didn't believe that, either.
...
"Jeremy," Asher said, seeing his driver hastily walking through the main house foyer and heading to the front door. "A word?"
Jeremy paused, looking as if he needed to decide whether he was going to keep going or listen to the man who paid his salary. "Hey, Asher," he said, reluctant. "Is everything alright?"
"No," Asher said. "Not particularly. There's an annoying, ridiculously stubborn, absolutely infuriating woman in my guest home, and I'm not sure why she's still there."
"Oh," Jeremy said, face turning red. "Right. I don't know?"
"I think you do," Asher said.
"You, uh... did she...?"
Asher fully suspected Jeremy knew exactly why Jessika was still in his guest house. He'd asked the man to drive her home early that morning, and was surprised to hear she'd refused to leave. Except, why would she do that? Jessika didn't seem the sort to take risks like that; not unless she knew it would pay off. True, he didn't know her that well, but from what he did know she was respectful with a slight feisty streak.
Except, how feisty? Enough to refuse to leave, and enough to go around his guest home and mess the place up. Not a huge mess, nothing more than superficial dirtiness, but still. And, my God, she'd admitted to masturbating in his bathtub while he was away. Granted, he'd been easing away her aroused distraction at the time, pulling her clothes off and pushing her panties to the side so he could...
Had he needed to do that? In his mind, he rationalized their behavior. Jessika was something else entirely, and he needed to prove to her that he wasn't a pushover. She was no ordinary woman, no matter what she thought of herself. But, had he wanted to do what he did? That was a dangerous question and best left unanswered.
He wanted so much and he knew he couldn't have it. Why dwell on the unattainable?
"I'm sorry about the hassle," Jeremy said. He was apologizing now, and Asher realized he must have been at it for awhile. "The thing is, she didn't want to leave, and I might have told her that you probably wouldn't force the issue. I don't remember the exact details. And..."
"It's fine," Asher said, grinning. "I just wanted to harass you. Actually, I was about to order pizza for her and I. Can you go pick it up?"
"Oh," Jeremy said, standing there with his mouth open, looking like a hooked fish.
After a moment's pause, Asher said, "Well?"
"Yes. Um, yeah? You sure? Is everything... good? What kind of pizza are you getting?"
"Ham and mushrooms, light on the cheese. Also another with chicken, feta cheese, tomatoes, and onions."
"Oh. George's place?"
"The Arcadia, yes."
"Sure, I can go. I don't have anything else to do. Was just going to..."
"For someone who has nothing to do, you sure looked like you were in a hurry to leave before," Asher observed.
Jeremy stumbled for something to say. Yes, Asher decided, he'd definitely influenced Jessika's decision to stay. Asher wondered whether he should reprimand him or thank him.
Probably both.
...
I lazed on the couch in Asher's guest home. My head resting on an overstuffed pillow, I gazed up at the ceiling. I felt giddy, like a school girl, like my crush had invited me to his house to study for an upcoming test and once I got there he told me that his parents would be away for the weekend. The point of going was, of course, the studying, but there was always that allure, hiding, of something more. A kiss, a peck, a touch of hands as we took a break and watched a movie and both grabbed for the same piece of popcorn from the snack bowl. Anything, just the smallest, most simplest of things, transformed into so much more.
"Comfortable?" Asher asked. He intruded on my daydream, waltzing into his home and joining me in the open living room.
"Yes," I said. I sat up and patted the seat beside me on the couch. "Do you want to be comfortable, too?"
He smiled and sat next to me. Not too close, but close enough. I sat and stared at him with my hands in my lap, realizing I had a silly smile on my face but not knowing any way to get rid of it. I couldn't have stopped smiling right now if I tried, so I just let it be.
"The pizza will be here soon," he said. "Jeremy is picking it up. The Arcadia. Have you heard of it?"
I shook my head, no.
"It's very good. A classier place, but they don't skimp or make it cheap. There, pizza is pizza, with tons of toppings and a crust you can sink your teeth into. Not like those fancy places that give you something the size of a tea saucer and charge you five times what Domino's does." He paused for a second, then added, "Not that I'm annoyed about that or anything..."
"I take it you've had some bad pizza?" I asked, laughing.
"I prefer not to talk about it," Asher said. He lowered his eyes, feigning shy indignance. Asher was anything but shy, though. He looked up soon after, glanced at me, making eye contact, and flashed me a bright smile.
"I was thinking," he said. "Have you seen The Goonies? I haven't seen it since I was a kid and I'd love to watch it again. It's a great movie."
"Is that the one with the pirates?"
"Kind of," he said. "Not really, but sort of. There's a pirate's treasure, and a mafia crime family. Traps and adventure and a little romance and friends coming together to accomplish something big, and..."
I listened to him with rapt attention. He sounded so into it. It wasn't the kind of movie I'd typically like, though I was sure I would have watched it with friends. The way Asher talked about it, the glimmer in his eyes and the excitement in his voice, I really wanted to watch it now, though. Something about it, sharing his passion, watching the movie and simultaneously watching him watch it, seeing him enjoy it; the idea appealed to me.