GLASS_ A Standalone Novel - Arianne Richmonde Page 0,3
bring him along. In fact, bring a girlfriend, if you want, or your mom.”
“My mother’s—” I want to say ‘dead’, but I stop myself. “It’s okay, I don’t need to bring anyone else.” My heart has sunk like a defeated battle ship. He doesn’t see me in the date type of way at all.
“I just want you to see Natasha Jürgen play this part. She brings so much vulnerability to her role, but at the end of the play she shows such strength . . . well, I won’t say more because I don’t want to spoil it for you, but it’s important for you, I think . . . for you to see this play.”
“I’ve heard about it, but I didn’t think it had opened yet.”
“It’s press night tonight. Will you come with me?”
“Are you kidding? I love Natasha Jürgen’s work.”
“I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“My address is—”
“I know your address. I’d prefer to come and collect you, that way I can be sure you won’t show up late.”
“You know where I live?” I ask, butterflies circling my insides like a spring storm.
“You are my employee, I have details about all the cast. See you at seven, Janie. Go home, get something to eat and have a nap. You look a little tired.”
My eyes linger on his worked-out torso, which I see rippling through his T-shirt, his muscles flexing as he picks up his papers and puts them into a briefcase. He knows where I live! The thought of it sends a shiver up my spine. He’s picking me up at my apartment!
His voice is husky when he says quietly, “See you later, Janie. Remember, get some rest.”
MY TINY STUDIO is my untidy but perfect nest. It’s full of clothes and full of plays. I cannot read novels of any kind or guilt sets in. Just plays. Tennessee Williams, Clifford Odets, Shakespeare, Jean-Paul Sartre, David Mamet . . . you name it, I’ve read them all.
I take off my dress and get into the shower, watching my reflection steam up. I wash my long, chestnut-brown hair and dump half a bottle of conditioner on my fingers, threading them through the tangles, running my fingers through the knots. I look at my face. So little, my body so tiny. I feel like a bird. It’s true, I need to eat more. Stop snacking and give myself proper, nutritious meals. My eyes look unusually large and puppy-dog brown, perhaps because I have lost all this weight. Is my part getting to me? I have never felt so vulnerable, never so submissive to a role. I feel as if I have a hole in my heart and the only person that can fill that hole is him. I ache for Daniel Glass. Finally, finally, I have a chance. He has asked me out!
I get out of the shower, rub some aromatherapy oil on my wet skin and massage my legs. When I reach my thighs I see Daniel in my mind’s eye and imagine his abs pressed against me. The tingle in my groin reminds me I need to release myself—it’s been too long. The weeks of torture as I see him in rehearsal every day; the temptation as I watch him work, listen to him direct me in his cool, sexy voice. My instructor. My master. I can’t hold it in any longer.
I rummage in my bathroom drawer and reach around for my little “rabbit” and turn it on. I haven’t used it for a long while and never would have thought of buying one, but I won it at a friend’s bachelorette party. Its rumbling vibration has already got me feeling ready. I’m wet again. Every day I’m that way. Every day, seeing Daniel, hearing him boss me, tell me what to do and command me as my director has me turned on like a switch. I am his submissive. I am his slave. Even though it’s my job to do what he tells me, and even though he is kind, I’m still his puppet—his marionette dancing to his tune.
I bring the rabbit in between my thighs and place it on my clit. Aah, oh wow, this feels sexy. It’s making me quiver. I rub it around in different places, behind me, now, at the back of my entrance, and then up around the front again. Oh yes, I see Daniel’s huge erection, at least how I imagine him: hard as a rock. He’s fucking me now. From behind. Oh