I could keep him to myself, at least for a little bit, and pretend there was some other reason he wanted to share my company, some other purpose besides his request for me to think about becoming his wife’s egg donor. She was infertile, they didn’t see each other often, maybe he was lonely?
Maybe… he wanted… me?
I didn’t know if I could let him take sexy pictures of me, though. A hobby, nothing more, just something he enjoyed doing in his spare time.
I never thought I was sexy. I still wasn’t sure.
…
Asher didn’t know what had come over him. He didn’t know why he’d asked Jessika to model for his photography. It wasn’t a shameful thing, not in his mind, and he owned all of the proper equipment, but this was new to him. He couldn’t help himself. It was as if he needed to ask her, some fate ordained.
He never believed in fates or destinies or anything like that, though. People made their own paths in life, and he’d made his. He’d invited her here under the awkward, though innocuous reason of seeing how she would answer his request from the day prior.
Yes, nothing more than that, right? Except yesterday he’d chastised her by putting her on the table in his private meeting room and stripping her of all her clothes. True, she ruined one of his favorite books first, the one that his father had given to him after he graduated from private school and before he’d gone to college, but it was replaceable. Special, with memories, but she never destroyed the memories and sentiment.
He didn’t think Jessika could ever do something like that. She only made them, new ones, blossomed and nurtured thoughts.
She was plain, regular, and… no, she was none of those things. Her clothing looked average, but like any book, there was a lot going on beneath her cover. He wanted to know it, to read her, to sit by a fire while drinking a fine wine and exploring every aspect of her as if she were a classic work of literature and he was stuck inside on a rainy, dismal day.
He had a wife. He couldn’t do these things. This was some inexplicable fascination. He tried to dissuade himself, letting himself look at her. She wore the casual chemise shirt he gave her yesterday after he’d ripped the buttons from her other shirt. The skirt covering her legs went a little higher than her hips, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. Her perfume, whatever the scent, was pleasant but not too intoxicatingly so.#p#分页标题#e#
But her eyes! She looked at everything as if it was exciting. Curiosity flickered through them, glimmers of innocence wanting to learn more. They were a startling blue, like the sky on a bright summer’s day, but he felt like they might cloud up and hide her true feelings if he so much as breathed the wrong way, sent forth a bad gust of wind. And her hands, timid, but wanting. The way she held her chopsticks when she reached for a strip of chicken kara age, slow and unsure, with a tilt of her head as she looked his way. He wanted to nod, say yes, it’s delicious and I think you’ll love it. He wanted to pick the meat up in his fingers and lean towards her, close, placing it lightly in her mouth, feeding her the morsel, letting her chew and swallow it before kissing the remnants off her pink, delicate lips.
That was too much, though. If he scared her, worried her, he didn’t think he’d have another chance. He wanted to squeeze her, grab her, demand things from her. He wanted to lay her down on the bench right then and there and rip off her clothes and press his warm mouth against every part of her body.
He wanted her to be her, but he wanted her to be his, too.
And so, without thinking, the urge overriding the logical part of his brain, he’d asked her to model for his photography hobby. She agreed. She agreed! This startled him somewhat, but he wasn’t entirely surprised. Except now what?
He needed to tone this down, to lighten the mood and keep all intimate thoughts at bay. This would be strictly an enjoyable pastime where he showed her a few things about taking pictures and modeling. And that was it. No more.
He had a wife, he knew that, and this was some odd, mild fascination with an interesting woman. Nothing more or less than that, and in time it would pass.
…
I had taken a taxi to the restaurant since I didn’t own a car; it was easier to travel in the city without one most of the time. A lack of parking spots, or traffic issues, or any other numerous problems could and did happen on a daily basis, making owning a car more of a luxury than a necessity here. I liked not having a car, anyways. Sometimes it was nice to imagine it as freedom. With cars I was stuck on city roads, but walking, or a taxi, or the subway could bring me almost anywhere.
I didn’t know if Asher agreed with that, but he had a car of sorts. He drove, he said, sometimes, but he had a man who drove him around most of the time. Especially now as we’d both been drinking, so it obviously wasn’t safe for either of us to drive.