Men of the Hour
The Melanie Series: Part 1
Part 1: Another glass of champagne, good sir.
He wasn't supposed to be here.
My mind unravels as I see him. In his tux. Alone, at the bar. He's probably ordering a bourbon on the rocks.
My mind flashes back to that first night.
His hand wrapped around a glass filled with amber liquor. His eyes are on me as he takes a sip from across the table. He licks the residue off of his lips as he lowers the glass, not taking his gaze off me for a second. I stutter on a word and awkwardly laugh. I can't take the fire in his eyes.
His hungry stare.
I snap back into reality. He wasn't supposed to be here.
God dammit. Why why why.
I startle at Will's question. He's standing behind me and puts his hand on my waist as he asks me. I look up at his handsome face.
"Yes of course, I would like a drink though."
He smiles down at me and kisses my lips.
"Of course I'll grab you something."
I turn my head back toward the bar. He's staring at me.
With his back on the bar counter, bourbon in hand. He sips and glares slightly. Maybe not a glare, but he has a smirk of contempt. He doesn't even look at Will as he goes up to the bar. Will does not look at him. I am standing awkwardly in front of both of them.
I need to move.
I turn around and shuffle back into the main event room.
Thank god. I turn and grab a glass off the waiters tray. Finish it in two gulps and hand back the glass.
He gives me a look of slight disgust and walks away. I do not care. Why was he here? Does everyone know. God what if Will finds out. Who cares though, right? Why does it matter? I am a grown ass woman, it's in the past Whatever. Get it together, he will not have some kind of hold over you.
"There you are."
Will is in front of me. His smile melts my heart. He hands me a martini glass and I take a long drag of liquor.
"Do you like it?"
It's horrible. I would have never ordered it myself.
"It's actually really good, thank you."
God I suck. Will smiles, content with the answer. I take another drink. He offers me his arm, and we walk back to our table. Everyone around us is a certified snob.
Will is probably the only kind-hearted person in this room. I keep my hand wrapped around his arm, and watch him enter into conversations with people who have obnoxious amounts of money. How do I know? Because they tell you about it every five minutes.
He laughs at their stupid jokes, and fills in the other half to their conversations with ease. Un-fazed by the snobbery and audacity of the words snorting from their mouths. Every now and then he covers my hand with his, to comfort me.
He knows I do not like these kinds of people. The entitlement, the arrogance, the rich people problems. At least I look the part. All done up in an expensive evening gown. Thanks to Will.
I actually look stunning tonight, and probably the only reason I am being ignored. I am just eye candy. They probably think I am just another dumb gold digger. He's brought one around a time or two before, why would I be any different?
I don't take offense to this, though, because it saves me from getting dragged into a conversation I know nothing about.
Money, tech, investments, portfolios. Blah, blah, blah. I'd rather take the toothpick out of my martini glass and shove it through my upper lip than try and talk to these people.
I laugh internally and finish my drink.
I haven't seen him take a seat anywhere yet, he's probably still at the bar.
The announcer gets back on stage, and the buzzing conversation of the room dies down as he clears his throat over the microphone. As he goes on and on about the wonderful men and women in the room, I waive down another waiter and take another champagne glass.
"I hope you're not bored out of your mind." Will whispers in my ear.
I smile at the warmth of his breath on the side of my neck. He is so attractive.
"I'm happy to be here with you. Even if this guy has the enthusiasm of a funeral director."
Will stifles a laugh and squeezes my hand.
"We will do something fun next time, I promise."
The announcer changes up his tone and it catches my attention...
"And now ladies and gentleman, may I present to you the man who made this all possible, Ian Thompson."
Oh god no.
Ian walks up on stage. With his easy breezy smile, and confident posture. He takes in the room and his eyes bounce off of mine. He smiles, I know its at me but no one is the wiser.
Why would I, a nobody, know THE man who made it all possible.
My insides ignite into flames as my stomach summersaults and my head spins. Jesus he's so hot.
He's talking now, and I don't know what about because all I can think about is him. About us. About the way his hands explored my body. About the way his lips were on my neck. The motion of our bodies together in a room lit by a fireplace and hearts beating fast and hard against each others chest.
"I have to pee." I whisper over to Will.
He almost protests, probably about how rude it is to leave during the speech, but I am already up and moving toward the door. I catch another waiter and take two glasses of champagne.
"Don't say a word."
This one was a lot younger, and gave me a look of straight terror. I'm sure my eyes were like daggers to the heart, but now was not the time for judgement.
I have no intention of going to the restroom. I need air. To my right is a staircase. I peak on my tip toes and see some french doors at the top.
The staff watch me as I climb up the stairs. Am I supposed to be up here? Who cares.
I get to the top and thank god theres a balcony. I slip outside using my elbow to push the handle down and my hip to nudge the glass open as my hands are full with golden bubbly flutes. It's a beautiful view. The night is warm and the stars shine sweetly against the dark swirly patterns of the clouds. The moon is half-way full.
Like my heart.
Oh stop it. I tell myself, so dramatic.
I smile and finish off one glass of champagne.
It's nice up here. Leaning against the ornate concrete of the railing, watching the trees sway gently in the breeze. Staring out at the freshly cut lawn, rows of green leading off into the darkness of the thick trunks that frame the property.
The door opens behind me.
"You should really get back to your date before the auction is over."
My body is frozen. I chug the other glass of champagne. God dammit. I do not turn around, I can't.
I can feel him get closer. Right behind me. He rests his mouth in the back of my hair and inhales me . He moves his lips closer to my ear.
"Do you still think about me?"
I don't say a word.
He moves the hair off the side of my neck and kisses me gently.
"Do you still remember how I feel?"
I hate him.
"I remember how you feel, I think about you all the time."
He puts his hand on my waist. My head drops down to my chest and I sigh. The alcohol roaring in my blood stream, in my head, making the world blurry and the ground spin.
I turn to face him. He puts both hands on the railing beside me. I grab the inside of his suit and pull his face close to mine, our lips almost touching and whisper,
"Go fuck yourself Ian."
I push him away from me and he let's out that booming laugh of his. I take off toward the french doors.
He grabs my wrist, not hard but not soft. My feet are numb and it doesn't take much for him to spin me around, and then I'm wrapped in his arms. Our bodies fitting together like how I had remembered. His cologne so rich but so subtle you'd think it was just a part of him. His firmness, his eyes, his lips. He stares at me, softening.
"Leave with me Melanie."
I hate him so much.
"Go home to your wife, Ian."
He smiles, and takes his left hand off the small of my back and holds it up to my face. His ring finger absent of the gold band.
"I don't have one anymore."
"Well, like you said, I should get back to my date so just let me go.."
He kisses me. I melt into him involuntarily. My hands snaking their way up from his chest to the back of his hair where I twirl my fingers around strands and then grip tighter, deepening our kiss.
He moans. I can feel the vibration transferring to the back of my throat and I moan in response.
God, he feels so good. But what am I doing?
I break free and he smiles. Takes his thumb and wipes at the corner of my mouth.
"I've made a mess."
"I can't do this, Ian. Not here."
"You can do whatever you want, Melanie. I missed you."
He says this and grabs my hand, kisses the top and stares at me with those hungry eyes.
"I'm going back down to my date Ian."
I spin around and move as quickly as I can before he traps me again. Who am I kidding? I would let him carry me out of here.
I float down the stairs and look for the restroom before anyone can see my smudged lips. I walk from the bottom of the staircase across the room to the heavy oak doors, ignoring the shocked stare of the waiter, and bust into the bathroom. Thank the lord, I am alone.
Oh god, and I am one hot mess.
I rake my fingers through the raised strands of hair at the back of my head, rub the smudged mascara from the corners of my eyes, reapply my lipstick.
I stare at myself. I am drunk.
What am I doing? Will is so nice. We aren't official yet or anything, but he keeps asking me out. We talk almost everyday. He treats me so well.
So why can't I say no to Ian?
I want to slap myself. I take a deep breath and let it out loudly. It's okay, everything is fine. You just kissed the ex-love of your life by accident. It happens. It's not like you fucked him. Just suck it up and go back to your date with the nice handsome man.
I glance at myself again, great pep talk me. Yay. Go team.
I turn around and the room spins slightly.
No time to focus on fuck-face Ian, just focus on not eating shit, I tell myself.
I make my way back to the ballroom keeping my gaze on the floor in front of me because I am terrified of looking around and losing the battle with gravity. I find my table and as quietly as I can, lower myself into the seat next to Will.
He puts his hand on my thigh. I look up at him.
God. I stare at his warm brown eyes. So steady and reassuring. I could marry this man and never have to worry about anything for the rest of my life.
An intrusive thought snakes it's way through my brain...Wouldn't that be so boring?
"I am really drunk Will, I'm sorry."
He laughs a little, and moves his hand to the side of my face.
"Oh you little light weight, you only had one martini and a glass of champagne."
I am a terrible terrible person.
"I guess it's just cuz I haven't eaten anything all day."
He laughs and kisses my forehead.
"We will get out of here soon, I promise."
I hate myself. Why can't I stop thinking about Ian. Well I know why I can't.
I guess I'll have to tell you the whole story.
Confess my sins so maybe you won't think I am the literal devil.
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.