Purged, an Excerpt

-Well, sometimes, a writer has to try something like this. Especially a romance writer. Please don't read if you're under eighteen. No, if you're under twenty-one. Otherwise, read on. (There's more in a folder, haha.)-

WHEN Izzie entered the bus, she was trying to hide her face from anyone who might see that she’s barely managing to get herself together. As she held on to seats on the isle to get to an empty one at the back she was also catching her breath. It was difficult, for what she really wanted to do was sit down in a corner and bawl—something she could only do at home in the corner of the bath. And home right now seemed the farthest thing on earth!

She trudged on until she found her seat, dropping heavily while clutching herself because of the cold that persisted in spite of her coat. She looked out the window and saw the rain. I could have stayed out there, my tears wouldn’t be seen, she bleakly thought. But as shocked as she was, the sensible part of her still reigned. She couldn’t cry in public. She just couldn’t. Even when at the moment, she couldn’t honestly tell if the moisture on her face were raindrops or tears.

The bus started to move. She could now see the buildings but when she closed her eyes, there was the one massive building with the gray front there--her work place. She wasn’t supposed to be here today. She was supposed to be on site of an intricate project with a billionaire’s clubhouse that she designed. It finished early and unexpectedly today and she went back to the office in the pretense of getting something from her desk but really to surprise her boyfriend. When she went to his office, she was the one who got surprised.

No. She got the shock of her life.

Her eyes closed tightly as if unwilling to let the image inside of her skull even when she knew it was impossible. The throbbing inside of her chest magnified the pain. It was physical, a real thing, solid and tight inside of her throat. There was Troy with his pants down, the legs of his secretary straddling him in place as he banged and grinded himself to her. She was rooted to the spot in shock while the sounds they made scandalized her to the roots of her hair. Troy himself was making these guttural sounds that she has never heard from him before, and everything was so ugly and so horrible that before she knew it, she was finally able to run away. Her lips trembled with anger and betrayal as she gulped another breath. But she couldn’t push the pain as well as the thought away.

Not any longer.

It was true. He wasn’t satisfied with her. The insecurity that she felt wasn’t conjured out of thin air. The way they fucked… fuck him!

They had made love… sex, she corrected now, angrily, because how could that be love-making when he clearly didn’t sincerely love her? They had not had sex like that.. the way he did with his bitch of a secretary. Not that she liked it that way. Or maybe, just maybe, with the right person… her face flamed. But she knew that she would. She could. She was ready to abandon herself and tell him it was alright. He always seemed too careful with her. She thought it was love. She thought they were just waiting for things to develop between them. Although, she felt, four months of going out seemed too long now for passion to show it’s fiery head.

Wasn’t it?

He’d complained she’s too sensitive and too fragile when she started to open the subject the last time they were together. Too fragile, my ass! She knew she was little at five-five compared to his height. He’s six feet tall, handsome and athletic. And yes, she’s a little shy, growing up in Virginia with her quiet, creative, single mom--one of the best nerds in town. She hadn’t had a lot of boyfriends. Her first experience with sex wasn’t even, well, something to rave about. She felt her face flush again with anger. Troy was her second boyfriend. She had been too busy studying in the university and men generally were not that interested. True, she wasn’t ugly. She was beautiful, according to her mom and sarcastically, because she also believed she was deliberately trying to hide it. Well, she knew she could be beautiful if she want it—she’s an artist and she knew. But there wasn’t time to fix herself in a way that would attract boys. Even if there was, she wasn’t sure she could handle the consequences that would incur to her studies because at the time, that was all that mattered.

Now, she’s here in New York. Her Uncle Mark, second cousin to her mom, brought her here and put her in a key position in his firm as soon as she finished Architecture as a summa cum laude (much to his delight) so she could work for him. And probably because he wanted to keep an eye on her and make sure she’s taken care of. He could be arrogantly over-protective, the lovable fool. She went excitedly and, admittedly, because she was so grateful for he was the one who’d helped her mom with financing her studies, not even listening when they talked to him about student loans. He was rich and he has no children. He considered her one, so she better act like one or it would be the greatest rejection anyone could ever give him. This was an exaggeration because all of them knew she would rather die than hurt her Uncle Mark.

So she moved here a year ago, being adamant about having her own place. She was still shy, and the fact that she did not go through the same process as other employees built a wall between her and the others. Troy was the first to approach her, made friends with her. Pretty soon, they were together. That seemed to make her more the pariah among the people in her department. They were the only people she had the guts to talk to, and only in context of work, projects shared, and professionalism. Now there was noone. That was the pathetic situation of her social life. She knew her job very well, though, and was good at it. They may not want her but a few months working here had proved to them the point of why she was here in the first place.

Her eyes watered when she thought of telling Uncle Marc she would resign. Oh, he wouldn’t let her. He would demand an explanation. There was no way that Troy would not be implicated. He knew about him. He said nothing in way of disapproval, but he respected her private life that way. At most, he was civil to him. But she could not be sure what he could do now if he knew.

Oh my God, she thought as something occured to her. Did Uncle Mark suspected Troy's intentions? Was that why he was bland to him? Because he suspected she might get hurt? Did he suspect that maybe…

That maybe Troy only wanted her because she was related to the owner of the firm.

The way she had suspected before but never let herself believe.

Which she did now, of course, she sarcastically thought.

Another wave of anger washed over Izzie coupled with helplessness and the now familiar bitterness. And worthlessness. She really thought Troy was the perfect man. How could he do this? What did she do to deserve this? With her first boyfriend Jerry, she thought they just wasn’t compatible sexually. But he said she wasn’t enough for him because her head hadn’t been in the deed. She was thinking of her books while he was coming, he’d accused. They parted ways amicably enough. Although she’d been hurt because she really tried to make it work, she soon got over it. Maybe because of the tiny part about her not really enjoying their time in bed.

After that experience, she shouldn’t have placed too much trust in her relationship with Troy. It was too good to be true. She saw the image in her head again, the wild abandonment that she'd caught in his office, and she stared out the bus window in confusion. She would not let Troy take her like that when there’s a bed… no, the bed wasn’t the problem, she corrected while her cheeks burned yet again.  He could take her lying on a haystack and she wouldn’t care. She came here to tell him that. She was too happy about the success of her latest project and she wanted to share the buzz. She wanted to tell him she loved him and she’s now ready for adventure. That she would let him guide the way.

And that’s how she found him. Her jaws were clenched so tight she knew they would hurt for a long time. But she was too angry to care. She knew her heart would hurt much longer.

Bitterness was a bile she had to swallow. She thought he was different. She heard men at work contesting each other about their sexual prowess. Sometimes she felt they were silently making an expense of her naivete. Troy was the only one—Oh, damn them all! The truth was she has no friends at work because men were jealous of her talent, especially that her designs had been picked over and over their designs, even when they had been working there for years. While women at work were competitive idiots and would knife each other on the back at every opportunity. Hadn’t she heard the callous backstabbing every time she got stranded in a cubicle when Ellie enters the office restroom with her minions? Hadn’t she heard the nasty words about her from their lips? Troy was the only…

The best actor in the lot, that was it. She didn’t need any other explanation. She was a trophy, she realized. The CEO’s favorite little niece. Too talented that noone would blindside her completely. He was the first who was able to put his hand to the pot prize.

She couldn't let him get away with it. She couldn't.

The same time she thought about getting back at Troy, he appeared.

The man. He was handsome, squared jawed with brown eyes and tawny hair. He was sexy in a tall, lean and solid way, wearing rugged clothes that hugged his body in a way that looked really good. She’d seen him several times before when she boarded the bus, usually in the morning going to work. He stood there, looking at the empty space beside her but only infinitesimally. His gaze immediately went back to her face. She felt horror at what he must see there.

“Can I sit here?” he asked carefully. It’s a free seat, of course. But he asked because of what he’d surely seen.

She nodded, hid her face from his searching look by turning to the window and to the rain again.

She felt him seating beside her. She felt heat radiating from him and she was surprised. He was good-looking, she thought. Yes, he was that handsome, or she wouldn’t even notice it again in the midst of what she’s going through right now. He had tattoos, she remembered that summer he rode the bus and he wore a black t-shirt, his jacket slung carelessly in his bag, five-o’clock shadow on his jaw making him look sexier. A kind of hell-raiser. She remembered how she’d wistfully thought of someone like him noticing her. She laughed at herself then. Smoky eyes, that was what had made her notice him in the beginning. The had shared a seat before, she remembered. But she was sure he hadn’t remembered that. Or that he’d even noticed her.

Then Troy happened and there was no other chance she’d thought about the stranger that way even when she kept seeing him again. When she and Troy started making out, even more. When they started making love, everything was rose-tinged. She’s in love with him, and it did not matter that they sometimes would make an awkward sex, especially in the beginning, before she learned what to do.  But she had felt something was wrong. Although he still displayed the same libido in bed, there was something missing. She was afraid that he was getting bored. That’s why she wanted to surprise him. She wanted to be spontaneous because she’d read that men liked that. Maybe she had not pictured herself being his lunch over his desk, she thought with shame in her heart. But if that’s what he wanted she could have…

No, she really wasn’t sure she would. She suddenly felt confused. Why not on his desk? How many orgasms had she faked just to make sure he would be happy? That he would be satisfied?

Tears finally flowed down her cheeks, the warmth in contrast to the cold. She didn’t make any move to wipe it. She didn’t want the man to see the movement. A lost cause, she realized, because a moment later, a handkerchief was being offered just a few inches from her face.

She gulped again, staring at the cloth. Her lips trembling.

“Better take it,” he whispered in a gentle voice. “It’s already flooding outside. We don’t want to flood in here, too.”

She took what’s offered as she quickly threw a glance at him. The compassionate look on his handsome face made her feel more ashamed. She wiped her face but the stupid tears kept falling. Worse, she had to pin the handkerchief to her mouth because—horror of all horrors!—sobs were starting to come out. She must be making him uncomfortable. Oh, stop it, AIzzienna!

“Hey… hey… what’s wrong? What do you want me to do? Can I help you?”

She stared at him now. It’s stupid trying to hide it. She has to get out of there. How? He looked really concerned. Not uncomfortable. Or embarrassed of his luck taking a seat beside a lunatic. She gulped another sob and she tried shaking her head to say no. But it was like a dam that has broken. More tears and giant sobs kept coming. She could just imagine other people on the bus staring!

He was starting to look uncomfortable. He looked towards the front, then at her again. “Next stop’s mine,” he said, and she thought he’d said that in relief because he was going to get rid of her at last. And she nodded, then felt horrible because now his handkerchief was wet. How was she going to give it back to him if it was wet?

“I can’t leave you like this,” he groaned, as if he was weighing a sack of  corn on his head. And she started to nod to tell him it’s okay but could she keep the handkerchief? The bus started to slow. Then his hand held her bag, his other hand her wrist. “Come with me. Let’s have coffee. I can make a mean cappuccino in my apartment’s kitchen.”

She abruptly stopped sobbing, looking at him in stunned surprise.

He smiled. “Yeah, I get that all the time,” he said. Maybe about her dumbstruck expression. “You’ll be safe with me,” he promised on a more serious tone.

What’s more strange, she believed him. No other reason. She just did.

And the next thing she knew, her bag’s straps were on his shoulders as he led her like a child out of the bus.

“I CAUGHT my boyfriend having sex with his secretary,” Izzie confessed dully as she sat on a stool in his breakfast table with the promised cappuccino from a ready-to-mix sachet. Her cloak and her bag were unceremoniously dumped in a corner of his living room. Crying has made her tired. And exhaustion and the aftereffects of shock was preventing her from thinking that she was on a stranger’s house, drinking his coffee, watching him as he made sandwiches from things inside of his fridge.

Crap. No, not exhaustion. She suddenly realized she liked watching him work in his kitchen. He moved with ease and so much confidence that it was mesmerizing. That he was handsome, tall and graceful for a man also helped. He glanced at her, inclined his head for a moment then nodded at what she’d confessed. As if that explained everything.

But that wasn’t everything. “What’s wrong with me?” Her whole face felt hot but it wasn’t just because of shame. It’s also because of anger. “Why cant I just be enough?”

He turned and brought the sandwiches to the table. “Hey. Can you hear what you’re saying?” he chided as he placed one of the plates infront of her. “It wasn’t your fault. Now, eat.”

She looked at him and got a little distracted. “Are you gay?” she asked carelessly. She’d heard in college that some gay looked more men than real men. Well, this man looked more manly than men she knew. And he seemed to be very competent on feeding women. Or, maybe she looked like someone needing feeding. A lost kitten?

He scowled. “No. Not that I’m against that but… why’d you asked?”

She shook her head. “I just had to check. It wasn’t my fault?” She smiled.  It wasn’t a happy smile. It was a bitter smile. “Men do that all the time and it’s always a woman’s fault. They always complain they weren’t getting enough. That’s what Jerry said. He wasn’t getting enough from me.”

“I’m guessing Jerry’s the ex? Eat.” He nodded at her plate again.

She took the sandwich. The toast felt warm and she did feel hungry suddenly as she smelled the ham, cheese, slices of hard-boiled egg and cold slices of tomatoes and sliced pickles. She nodded after her first bite to answer him, and because the sandwich was good.

“Then Jerry—and Troy—are jerks. They said that to lay the blame on somebody else, preferably you because they weren’t man enough to carry the burden of their responsibilities to their commitment,” he said after gulping his first bite down with his coffee. “And you’re beautiful, you look desirable, and they’re stupid not to see that. So, eat more.” He was commanding, nodding at her sandwich seriously. She couldn’t help smiling.

“You must have many sisters. You seem not that fazed with crying binges,” she said embarrassingly before taking the next bite. Of course, she did not believe he found her desirable.

“Just one and she’s a mean little freak,” he said, now smiling. “Ten years old.”

“So you knew how to treat tantrums.”

He looked at her. “Yours wasn’t a tantrum. You were hurt. I knew how to be a friend,” he said gently.

“I-I didn’t even know your name,” she said shyly.

He laid the sandwich back on his plate and soberly clasped his hands below his chin. “It’s Dr. Phil.”

She laughed. He smiled more broadly. She felt heat coursing through her body towards a point just down her belly because of that smile, because of his eyes turning smokier.  And from there, liquid heat flowed through her veins to other body parts, making her feel a little electrified. It was a sexy smile. He’s got a sexy body, and she has no boyfriend anymore but she has something to prove.

And maybe, she wasn’t thinking. Or it was a rainy afternoon. Or because they were just into enough conversation to make her reckless without thinking of consequences. Now before she lose her nerve. What the hell.

“Will you please **** me?” It was the perfect word. ****. Mindless. Strangers. Careless. No caring.

Not love making. Not even sex... too easy a word. She wanted to forget. To be purged.

His eyebrows flew to his forehead. He was still smiling, though. He didn’t answer right away.

And she did loose her nerve in the next second. She dropped her eyes to her mug completely. “Never mind. I wasn’t thinking…” She stopped, raising her eyes in surprise. He was pushing his chair back as he started to get up. And the look on his eyes as he approached her… suddenly, her heart was racing like it had never raced before. “I-I—“

“Don’t talk. You’ll loose it before we even start,” he murmured in a rational tone in a deeper, sexier voice.

He took her hands and he helped her up. They came face to face. So near. She was waiting for fear to come. But all she could think of was that he smelled good, and that look of desire darkening his eyes felt like the most beautiful thing on earth. The warmth that she’d felt emanating from him on the bus was there, coupled with the heat of desire waking furiously from inside her in a way she has never felt before. Set aside all these, and what’s left is the knowledge that she wanted to get ****ed. Really ****ed. By him.

Right now.

“I’m warning you… you’re just looking for distraction,” he said.

She gulped. “Exactly what I need,” she admitted. She looked at him and heat on his eyes flared. Oh, what has she gotten into, her mind cried helplessly. “So much! Will you give it to me?”

His lips smiled with his smoky eyes. “Heck, yeah.”