Stories From The 6 Train 2(105)

“Destiny?” I ask. She smiles at me.

Right. I forgot to tell you that there have been a host of Kane Price department parties at this place. Destiny and I have had our share of fun in the past.

She’s a good fuck. Just likes her pussy liked and her ass spanked and for me to cum all over her face.

“What you looking for today?” she asks, her hands traveling to her tits. “Fuck me in the Champagne room or you want me to blow you in the VIP?”

I look at her for a second.

That’s when it hits me.

Did I just leave Lorna to come here?

“Just give me a second, alright?” I tell her and go outside again.

Thankfully, the rain has stopped.

I look downtown.

In my old life, I would have been looking either inside to Destiny or uptown to Lorna.

In my old life, I would have no problem fucking Lorna. Hell, I might have even traded in my morals and enjoyed it.

But I’ve changed.

I realize that I’m no longer the same person.

It took me a long time to figure this out, but I realize that I’ve been a complete idiot.

My company is something I built. The whole ‘King of Wall Street’ is something I built for myself.

But it doesn’t mean a damn without the woman I love being by my side.

I need Becca. I love Becca.

But it’s already late. And I don’t want to text her booty call fashion on top of everything she’s been through.

I need to go home and calm down. Then I need to wake up in the morning and work out.

And then, around noon, after she’s had enough time, I need to go make things right with her.

And never look back.





Becca





They say yoga is like refreshment to the soul. It’s with that in mind that I put on a tight tank top and squeeze myself inside a pair of yoga pants. I place the rubber mat in the living room, at my feet, and close my eyes. Exercise has always helped me deal with the stress at work, and I just hope it will help me the same when it comes to matters of the heart. Because there’s no other way to put it: right now, my heart is shattered.

After tasting what real love and lust feels like, I truly don’t know how to move on with my life now. Mason is on my mind constantly: I’ve been thinking about him nonstop since I ran out of the Four Seasons last night, and I dreamt of him when last night even as I was asleep. It’s torture, plain and simple, and I have no idea on how to escape from the pain.

I go down on the mat, placing my hands in front of me, and arch my back, taking one deep breath. I start slow, assuming an easy position, but then progress to more complicated ones, pushing both my mind and body to the limit. As time passes and beads of sweat start to form on my skin, I feel my body relaxing - still, the gears inside my head keep on turning and turning, Mason’s smile dancing behind my closed eyelids.

Trying some of the hardest positions, I let my muscles work until they’re exhausted and, only when I can no longer move, do I lay down on the mat. Sprawled on the floor, I look at the ceiling, the pounding of my heart against my eardrums. Locks of hair are plastered to my forehead, glued to my skin by sweat, and I already feel my shirt sticking to my body. Sighing heavily, I sit up and purse my lips, giving up on trying to forget about Mason. Forget about yoga, I need something more drastic.

I go up to my feet and, grabbing my cellphone, I go through the contact list. My heart starts to race, and there’s a little voice in my head, whispering for me to get a hold of myself. I know that I’m about to do something terribly stupid, but I just can’t help myself. Heartbreak is the leading cause for bad decisions, it seems.

Remember Robert? Well, he has been sending me text messages almost every day, even though I never bother to respond. I figured that after our failed date and Mason’s intervention, that he would see the painting on the wall and simply forget about me. Of course, I couldn’t be any more mistaken about that. If anything, it seemed that when Mason entered the scene that Robert’s competitive streak flared up. Now, alone and depressed after a failed yoga session, I’m glad that he hasn’t given up.

When his name pops up on the screen, I double tap it and take a deep breath as my thumb moves across the screen. “Want to have lunch?” I write, my thumb then hovering over the SEND button. Don’t do it, Becca, my rational mind seems to say, but I can’t stop myself - I press the icon on the screen, and the message flies away from my cellphone and into his.

I throw my phone back on top of the table, expecting for him to take a while to respond, but his answer is almost an immediate one: the moment I let go of the phone, it vibrates at once. I pick it up, unlock it, and feel my heart tightening up as I see Robert’s response. “Yes! We can have lunch at your place. I’ll bring wine,” his text says. Fully knowing that I shouldn’t be doing this, I text him back a simple “sure”.