The Ex 1: In Which She Gets a Limp Biscuit

“I had that dream again.” The heat that crept up my neck could've fried an egg and two rinds of bacon.

Siobhan nodded, silently urging me to continue.

“Well...” My hands did a nervous tap dance in my lap. “It got extremely – how do I say this? – hot. I didn't want to wake up.”

“Who was on top this time?”

I bit my bottom lip hard enough to make it sting. “He was. He's always on top.”

“Could it be that you'd like him to take control of your life again, much like in your past sex life?” She paused. “That you'd like someone to dominate you again?”

I stared at her. It was amazing how Siobhan Farrell, PhD's mind worked. If I told her I dreamed of lions stalking deer, she would say I'm beginning to embrace my wild side by dating Colin, who was as feeble as a deer. It wouldn't cross her mind that I could've just fallen asleep watching Animal Planet. Farfetched didn't even begin to describe some of her analytical conclusions and theories.

I took a deep breath. “It's just that... I thought the dreams were gone but then... this morning, I woke up with... well, you know what it's called.”

Siobhan nodded again, writing something down in her notebook – something probably along the lines of “had wet dream about cheating ex-husband”. She was constantly scribbling away and it was unsettling. With her wiry chestnut hair and goggle-like spectacles, she looked like a very tiny mad scientist; a mad scientist who knew my deepest, darkest thoughts and desires.

“It's been – what? – almost two years since you last saw him, correct?”

I nodded.

“And perhaps, because your anniversary's coming up...” She trailed off when she saw my facial expression.

“My wedding anniversary,” I said softly, setting my palms flat against my lap. I looked up at her, a slow smile spreading across my face. “I think it's time I got that tattoo. Or... or went to Cabo! I need to celebrate!”

“Celebrate?” Siobhan looked bewildered, one brow arched.

“Of course! I didn't do much last year because my nan got sick... but this year?” I licked my lips. “This year, I'm going to order a piñata, name it Konstantin, then bash its candy brains out!”

“I find that a little unhealthy.”

“It's very healthy,” I disagreed. “Look, it doesn't mean I'm still mad at him, Siobhan. I'm not. I'm over what happened. It just means that... that...” I stopped. “OK. I'm still mad. I hate that I'm always thinking about him and it doesn't help that he owns almost everything in Parishville so I'm constantly reminded of him.”

“Does Colin know?”

My brow furrowed. “Know about what?”

“Does he know about the dreams?”

“Does he know about the sexual fantasies I still have about my ex-husband?” I asked sardonically. “Why on earth would I tell him that?”

“So what is your reason for not telling him?” Sarcasm simply went over Siobhan's head.

“That's easy. He'd be hurt.”

“But you don't love him, remember? His feelings shouldn't matter, should they?”
I was instantly reminded of the day I'd confessed to her that I could never fall in love with Colin Hanlon, which was selfish of me because I knew that he was deeply in love with me. A perverse part of me enjoyed the way he doted on me even when I did absolutely nothing to deserve it. That perverse part of me was still aching for her first love. She hated the aching.

“Our session's over, don't you think?” I mumbled softly, looking away.

Siobhan set her book on her lap and glanced at her gold wristwatch. “Yes. I believe it is.”

***

“Bloody hell, Frankie. I am so sorry,” Colin muttered dejectedly.

“It's fine, Colin,” I mumbled, although it wasn't. It really wasn't.

“This is humiliating.”

“Perhaps it's a sign that I should go now.” I wasn't in the mood to begin with.

“I don't understand why you can't spend the night,” Colin said sadly, resting his chin on the fold of his hands as he watched me pull on my jeans and raincoat. “I...I can try again. It might just be the cold.”

I glanced at him over my shoulder. “I've got a hell of a lot of work to do tomorrow. You know how it is. The store's still struggling and I have to –”

“To hell with work, my sweetheart.” He slid off the bed in all his naked glory. “Why don't I come over? Would that be easier? I could try and get it up one more time.”

I was going to recoil if he tried to touch me again. Shaking my head, I said emphatically, “No, it wouldn't. Colin, I'll see you when I can, all right? Really – don't worry about it. It happens.”

“You're so lovely. So, so lovely.” He fixed his bright eyes on me. “Francesca, there's something I've been meaning to ask you –”

“No time. 'Night!” I called over my shoulder, grabbing my handbag and almost sprinting out his bedroom and out his apartment.

The elevator was practically right outside his door, something I was extremely grateful for at that moment. As I pressed the silver downward arrow, I remembered that Colin had the same look in his rheumy blue eyes just now as he'd had the previous year when he'd foolishly gotten on bended knee in a crowded McDonald's and humiliated the skin cells off me.

When the lift finally pinged to a stop and I slipped inside, I finally released the sigh of relief I'd been holding in. There was no way I was going to allow Colin to make me feel awful all over again when I inevitably and placidly rejected his proposal.

The elevator rocked to a stop and the doors opened. I froze mid-step.

“You look like you've seen a ghost,” said Konstantin, stepping inside. The elevator closed again, sealing us inside.

For a few seconds, all I could do was ogle him. The last time I'd seen him, a charcoal-black suit had been moulded to his body and now, he was wearing what was obviously black Armani. His hair had grown out. Curlier and much longer, it framed his face like a noir curtain. The male scent of his familiar cologne washed over me, bringing memories with it. A small part of me was excited to know that not much about his appearance had changed. The question was if his inside had changed. I didn't want to know.

I snapped out of my trance. “What...are...you...doing...here?” My chest was beginning to close up around itself. Each cell, vessel and vein was refusing to work and I simply could not breathe.

“I own this building,” he said nonchalantly, as if he'd just informed me that he owned a motorcycle. I felt my heart stop at the same time he pressed the emergency stop button. The car instantly rocked to a stop.
Get your shit together, Frankie.

“That doesn't give you a right to stop me from leaving your building,” I snapped, amazed by the clarity of my voice.

He ran his concrete-grey eyes over me. “Is there a particular reason for your looking like a sheep herder?”

My right eye was twitching. “Excuse me?”

“I suppose this what Hanlon has reduced you to,” he continued as if he hadn't heard me.

“How the hell do you know about Colin?” I sputtered, unable to fathom that this was actually happening, that he was standing here after two years of silence, talking about my boyfriend.

“Is he really the best you could do, Frankie?” Konstantin wanted to know, his face contorted into a sneer.

Shocked by his cruelty, I took a few steps back, bumping into the wall that told me I was cornered. “Who I date is none of your concern,” I whispered in response, wishing I meant it.

The space seemed to diminish when Konstantin closed the space between us in one stride. “Now that's where you're misinformed, my dear Francesca.” His hands pushed past my coat and sought the strain of my breasts, the brusque touch sending shockwaves to my nipples.

“I have a boyfriend,” I murmured feebly. Please tell me I'm still in bed having a sexy dream.

“Don't make me laugh.”

“You have no right.” With more force than I'd intended, I shoved his hand away. Fixing him with a glare, I said through clenched teeth: “Colin is the only man that can touch me.”

Konstantin's eyes blazed. “He's not your type.”

“And what is my type? You?”

“Yes, and perhaps you need a little reminder of that, agapi mou.”

And then he was mauling me with lips so familiar I knew each faint ridge.

After two years, my body was more than ready to react. Like iron filings to a magnet, my body glued itself to his, seeking his heat, his strength, his maleness. My lips parted, allowing his tongue to discover my mouth all over again and mine to do the same. Konstantin tasted of Cuban cigars and fancy wine and pure, unadulterated desire. The tug in my belly was growing to an unbearable ache and when his hands returned to cup my swollen breasts through mu shirt, I pressed them into his palms, desperate and unashamed.

“You know I'm the only man you need, the only man you want,” he breathed into my mouth, tweaking the hardened nubs of my nipples with practiced hands. “I know you've missed me, agapi mou. Your body cannot lie even when you do.”

If it weren't for the railing running the elevator and effectively supporting me, I would've crumpled into a heap of hormones. The last time I'd come from someone's touch was with Konstantin. I needed some sort of release and, as if hearing my cúnt's silent cry of hunger, Konstantin was tantalising me.

“Say it.” His bear paw slid under my T-shirt, scorching the bare skin of my belly.

“Say what?” I gasped into his mouth when he pulled my nipple.

“How badly you want me to take you here in this elevator. How badly you want me to undress you and slide my hard c0ck inside you.”

Power play. He's going to make me beg.

It was like going back in time; back to a time when Konstantin dominated and I submitted to him, no questions asked. This was one of the things I both yearned for and detested.

I pulled away from him. “I think you should return to one of your numerous whores. Make them beg for you.”

As expected, his face clouded over with anger. “Don't insult me, Frankie.” He withdrew his hand, all lust evaporating from his face.

“Insult you?” I thumped my fist against his chest. “Insult you? After what you did to me? After you hurt me?” I hit him again. And again. I wished there was some way I could make him physically feel the same pain I'd felt when he did what he did two years ago.

He stood there, taking my blows and watching me punch him as if I were an interesting ant trying to nibble at his big toe. Frustrated, I drew back and felt pathetic tears dribble into my mouth. Without a word, Konstantin pressed the emergency button again and the elevator rocked to life.

I buttoned up my raincoat and ran a hand through my uncombed hair, my tears evaporating. I was suddenly painfully aware that I probably looked like cat shít. I had disappointed my fellow females around the globe by not looking at least fifty-percent presentable before my ex.

“How did you know I'd be here?” The thought had just occurred to me and I gave Konstantin a long, hard stare.

“Security cameras,” he said flippantly. “I had them look out for you.”

“Look out for me?”

“And while I have your undivided attention, you will stop seeing Mr. Hanlon.” The demand was made through gritted teeth. “He is so below you that the idea of you two in bed is almost as laughable as the existence of extrterrestrials.”

“He's amazing in bed and aliens exist,” I lied. “Also, in case you've knocked your head while giving someone head, I am not your lackey, nor am I your lover, ergo you can't order me around.”

Heat flickered in his eyes. “This was usually the part where we'd have angry sex.”

“And now this is the part where I walk away,” I fumed, ignoring the throb in my abdomen at his words. The doors opened and I swiftly slipped out, breaking into a run once I was outside.

I survived, I thought as I located my car, awed with the realisation. I survived an encounter with the Kouriakis demon.

I was already mentally telling myself to book another appointment with Siobhan sooner rather than later.

Chapter end