What The Heart Desires Read Free Page A

man’s home.”
    “You got into a strangers car.”
    “That’s because...I didn’t feel like going through that again. It was a bridge to nowhere with him because he was obviously drunk. So I changed the subject. “What about your wife?”
    “I don’t have a wife.” He looks at me trying to decide whether to pour his heart out to me. “I was engaged but I caught her with my best friend.” He takes another drink.
    “Then she wasn’t worth you being upset over.” I was the last to talk. Here I am finding my fiancé fucking a woman in a position that he declared wasn’t respectable and animalistic, but I still wanted him to turn around and send her away. After all that I still wanted him. “I don’t know what to tell you,” I say meeting his gaze.
    “It’s what the heart desires that gets us in trouble. The heart wants what the heart wants.” I say to him. I didn’t know where that piece of philosophical crap came from but it seemed appropriate at the time and for the conservation we were having.
    We were both being fucked over by the people we desired the most.
    He turns to me picking up the money I placed between us and says, “Here, take the money. I know you don’t want to take it.” He puts it in my hand. “Would you prefer to work for it?”
    “I told you before and you weren’t listening. I’m not that kind of girl. I work for a living.”
    “Yes I know,” and before I could try to make some sense with him because he was pissing me off, he leans over and kisses me. His kiss burned through me and I taste liquor and smelled the scent of an expensive cologne or body wash. His tongue meandering around my mouth heating me through and through. I couldn’t catch my breath. His hands dropped to my legs and I felt as if I could give in and let him think that I got in his car for sex, but as desperate as I felt, and as much as I wanted to be loved by a man, I didn’t want that feeling from a stranger.
    I needed that feeling from Troy even if he was a dog.
    When his hands reached my mound and his lips searched for my nipples, I pulled back from him. He looks at me confused. “You will never make a dime as a working girl. You can’t be so tense.”
    “I thought you didn’t want anything from me?” I say to him. Now I’m angry because he’s too drunk to even hear me, or make sense of what I’ve said.
    “I don’t want anything from you if you don’t consent to having sex with me. I was just feeling sorry for myself because my best friend and fiancé betrayed me, and still I want her more than ever. I thought if I could fuck you, then I wouldn’t feel as bad. I see it as a revenge fuck. Fucking another woman.”
    “I caught my fiancé tonight fucking a woman over his desk in his office and I didn’t want to fuck you.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because that’s not what you do when you have a traumatic situation. You don’t just pick up a woman and fuck her and in a car.” My voice raised as I chastised him.
    “Would you come with me to my apartment?”
    “You’re not listening to me.” I find my hands holding his gorgeous face. “You just don’t get it, do you? I find you very attractive, but I just don’t go around having sex with a man when I first meet him.”
    “I normally don’t either,” he says to me leaning and ready to reach under my skirt, but I swat his hand away from me. “You really aren’t a prostitute? Are you?”
    “Now you get it. No. I’m not.”
    “Then would you consider seeing me again.”
    “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
    “Because I’m white?”
    “No, because you are trying to fuck away your pain. I don’t want any relationship with a man black or white or any other color who wants to have a woman because another woman has disappointed him. And I wouldn’t be a good date anyway because I’m thinking about my boyfriend. I look up and the driver has stopped at the subway station on Atlantic Avenue.
    “Thank you and it was an interesting