"So you mean it's been six months since you last had sex with your husband?" Jessica exclaimed, her jaw almost to the floor.
Catherine sighed, taking a sip of her martini. Her best friend's reaction was very valid.
"I fear I'll jerk like a virgin if a man even touches me," Catherine lamented. "Matthew returns from work when I'm asleep and leaves before I wake up. I tried going to his office, but his secretary stopped me, saying he was busy. I'm so fucking sex-deprived!" She poured out her frustration.
Jessica bit her lips, shifting closer to Catherine. The music in the bar was intruding on their conversation.
"What if he's cheating?" Jessica asked in a hushed tone.
Catherine froze for a moment, as if considering the idea, but she immediately shook her head. "Don't put such ideas into my head, Jess. You know Matthew is not like that." She felt guilty that she had doubted him even for a second. Her best friend didn't know what she was saying.
Jessica doesn't know Matthew like I do. He'll never do such a thing.
"Don't get all riled up, I'm just saying. No man can go that long without touching his wife unless he was getting it from somewhere," Jessica shrugged.
"Please don't mention something like this again. In fact, let's change the subject."
Jessica immediately perked up. She didn't like Matthew anyway, but there was something—better yet, someone else—she did like.
She nudged her head to a corner. "How about your bodyguard over there?" She smirked playfully, openly staring at him. "From how he always looks at you, he'd get rid of your sexual frustration the moment you give him a chance."
"Jessica!" Catherine almost choked on her drink. "I might be sexually frustrated, but I won't stoop that low. You know, I should've never come to you for advice."
Jessica nearly fanned herself, her giggles turning into a cackle. "Catherine, I don't know what's wrong with you. If he even looked at me for three more seconds, I'd throw my panties at his feet and ask him to step on me. Girl, he doesn't just look like he gives good sex, he looks like he could rearrange my whole damn personality."
Catherine felt her face heat up. She took a sneak look at her bodyguard. Indeed, he had a face women would faint for, his body looked divine in his perfectly tailored black suit he always wore. Standing at almost two feet taller than most, he was many women's dream man.
But even if he had the face of a model and a body to die for, to her, Matthew was better looking. Besides, her bodyguard was too cocky for her liking—those types of men who know the effect they have on women.
She stood up, grabbing her purse. "It seems like you're drunk as you keep spewing nonsense. I planned to sleep over at your place, but now I've changed my mind. Any second longer with you and my brain will be filled with your nonsense."
Jessica didn't flinch. She subtly waved her hand, bidding Catherine goodbye, but she couldn't help adding, "When you get home, send me your bodyguard's number."
Catherine shook her head. "Go get it from him yourself." She then turned around and left.
"That's unfair!" Jessica slurred, but Catherine had already left.
She stood outside the bar while her bodyguard went to get the car. The car pulled up to her, and he stepped outside to open the backseat door for her.
Just as she was about to get in, he placed his hand over her head to prevent her from bumping it. Catherine wouldn't have thought much about it, but after he talked with Jessica, she started to put meaning behind his actions.
Does he really fancy her?
It would be such an insult if he did, she thought.
Catherine was a little tipsy and had fallen asleep during the ride.
She stirred awake, her body rocking gently with an unfamiliar rhythm. The faint scent of cologne filled her nose—clean, masculine.
She blinked, disoriented at first, until the warmth and solidness beneath her cheek registered. Strong arms held her firmly, moving with a steady stride.
It took her a moment to realize her bodyguard was carrying her.
"Put me down!" Her voice was ice-cold. He complied, gently putting her down. Once she had found her footing, she gritted her teeth and sent a slap across his cheek.
"How dare you touch me in that manner, Jeremiah!" She glared at him hard. "Have you forgotten who I am? I am your boss. In no way or manner should you have carried me without my permission."
Jeremiah, her bodyguard, massaged his struck cheek, a smirk playing on his lips. "Noted, ma'am," he replied.
Catherine's eyes twitched when she saw the smirk, but she said nothing. Slapping him was too much but it was a reflex action.
Indeed, Jessica was bad company, putting all sorts of ideas in her head.
Catherine pursed her lips and turned around, only for her wrist to be grabbed.
She turned around with a glare. "I see you don't know boundaries."
Jeremiah didn't answer. Instead, he said, "Don't go in. You might not be ready for what you'll see inside."
Catherine narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"
"I can't speak much on it. Just don't go inside. My job is to protect you, and I'm doing just that."
Catherine yanked her wrist from his hold and pointed her finger at him. "And who do you think you are, telling me if I should enter my home or not? The next time I have to speak on boundaries again with you, be prepared to lose your job! Nonsense!"
She then stormed off and slammed the front door in his face.
Jeremiah stood outside, putting one hand in his pocket and the other scratching his brow.
"She'll surely come out in tears," he muttered under his breath.
Meanwhile, Catherine was still fuming as she climbed the stairs. Now that she was alone, she could finally admit to herself the real reason she was so angry.
It was all because of his touch. His scent. It had ignited something so deep inside her—a desire so primal it made her thighs clench.
"How pathetic," she muttered under her breath, grudgingly going to her room.
Muffled sounds drew her out of her thoughts as she approached her room.
What were those? They became clearer and clearer, and all the blood left her face when she recognized the sounds.
Her hands held the doorknob, but she hesitated, too afraid to confront what she thought those sounds were. Her heartbeat picked up pace, her hands turning clammy on the knob.
It can't be… Matthew can't do this to her.
She slowly opened the door, so slowly that it didn't creak to alert the people inside.
"Oh…yes…Matt, oh, you fuck me so good!" the woman on top of him moaned.
"Heavens! Your pussy grips my cock real good."
Catherine couldn't believe her ears. That was unmistakably Matthew's voice.
Catherine's purse fell from her hand, and she walked into the room. They were so engrossed in their lovemaking that they didn't even notice her presence. That was just how insignificant she was.
Catherine walked like a ghost into the room, staring at them listlessly.
"Arggggghhhh!" she suddenly screamed at the top of her lungs, manically pushing all the products on top of her vanity.
The two people on the bed jolted immediately, with Matthew pushing the lady on top of him away.
"Catherine," he called out. "I can explain."
"Explain what? We don't need to explain to her," the lady slurred, dragging her hands seductively around Matthew's chest.
Catherine's eyes widened when they landed on the lady.
"Kelly…" the name left Catherine's lips almost in a whisper. She staggered backward and grabbed her vanity desk for support.
"Surprise, surprise," Kelly giggled, clinging to Matthew like she owned him. She didn't even bother to hide her nakedness, shamelessly rubbing her breast on Matthew.
"How could Matt?! How could you cheat on me with my stepsister!"
"I was planning to tell you," Matthew looked away from Catherine. "I have loved Kelly ever since—"
"Stop!" Catherine yelled, covering her eyes. "I don't want to hear it."
She was too shaken. She couldn't stay here for a second longer and see their shameless faces. How could they show no remorse?
She turned around and ran off.
"Don't go after her," she heard Kelly say. She didn't wait to see if Matthew would listen to Kelly or come down to explain. She just wanted to be away from all of this. Far away.