Turn Me On. Dylan Rose
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reached the cottage, Faye was feeling groggy from all the travel, but she perked up at the sight of the beautiful stone house. Even in the pitch black, she could see that it was surrounded by a beautiful English garden, with seemingly every possible variety of flower sprouting from the ground to decorate the gray slabs. Gregor came around to open the car door for her and when she stepped onto the gravel, she noticed just how peacefully still it was outside, her heels crunching against the rocks was the only sound she could hear. It had been a while since she’d left the city and she’d forgotten just how much quieter things were away from the subways and 24/7 delis.
“This is it,” Gregor said, fishing in his bag for the key. “My humble abode.” Gregor unlocked the door and flipped a switch that lit up the entryway and the living room. If the outside of the house was country-chic, the inside was definitely cozy-modern, with neutral colors, comfortable couches, a wide-screen TV and top-of-the-line Bose speakers. Faye could see the kitchen from where she was standing, and it looked like something from out of a magazine. It was like stepping into the most expensive choice on the Airbnb list, except that this was Gregor’s home.
“Or not so humble,” Faye commented, taking in the colorful artwork that adorned the walls. “Oh, my God. Is that a Warhol?”
Gregor smiled and seemed a little embarrassed by his own good fortune. “Yeah,” he said casually, stroking his chin. “I bought it during my art phase. I’ve been thinking of selling it.”
“It’s fantastic,” Faye said, marveling at the painting—and the whole place.
“I’ll keep it, then,” Gregor said.
“Do you mind showing me to my room? I’m a little tired,” Faye said, suppressing a yawn.
“Of course,” Gregor said, snapping to attention. “Right this way.”
Faye followed Gregor down the hallway and into a small bedroom. When he flicked on the lights, she saw a comfortable room painted white, with a beautiful area rug. There were colorful pillows on the bed and a small writing desk with a stool next to it.
“This should have everything you need. The loo’s through there.” He gestured to a door leading to a private bathroom. “Can I make you something? You must be starving.”
“I think I’m just going to take a shower and crawl into bed,” she said, plopping down on the fluffy white comforter. Then, thinking she didn’t want to give him the wrong idea—or did she—she quickly stood up. “Thanks so much for having me in your home. It’s really lovely.”
“Anything you need, I’m just down the hall,” Gregor said chivalrously. The two stood in awkward silence until Gregor cleared his throat. “Well, I’ll leave you to it, then,” he said, smiling at her as he shut the door behind him.
Faye stood there staring at the door for a beat and then lay down on the bed, this time breathing out a heavy sigh. It was exhausting, trying to look good in front of someone for that amount of time. She decided to take a long, hot shower and then get into bed and sleep for a very long time. She could worry about the interview tomorrow.
After doing some quick unpacking into the chest of drawers and reveling in a steamy, hot shower, Faye slipped into her pajamas—a pair of tiny shorts and matching camisole covered in pink and red flowers. Noticing her phone, she saw there were a few text messages from Bev, asking how things were going and reminding Faye how important the story was for the magazine.
Faye understood why Bev was so concerned. With so much digital content available, magazines like Amuse Bouche really had to go the extra mile to grab readers’ attention. It didn’t help that three of their sister magazines had folded in the past two years. The pressure was on to deliver.
She also noticed there was a voice message from her mother. Faye had sent her a quick text, letting her know she’d be out of the country, and of course her mother had called her back and left several messages. She made a mental note to give her a call the next morning.
Faye took a cursory glance at her Facebook feed and noticed that David had posted a picture of himself with a group of friends at the beer garden. Even though her sister and friends had advised she unfollow him, Faye couldn’t bring herself to do it. But they were right, it was torture, looking through his pictures, wondering if he was having more fun without her…
Faye clicked off the page and placed her phone, face down, on the nightstand.
But just as she was about to slip into the comfort of her bed, she felt her stomach growl. Deciding to head into the kitchen to see if there was any food, she opened the door to her room and slowly made her way down the hall. She turned the corner and saw there was a light on. Peeking her head around the corner, she watched for a moment as Gregor stood at the counter. He had on a T-shirt and lounge pants and looked even sexier than he had on the plane.
“Hey,” Faye said, walking into the room. “We were thinking about the same thing!”
“Were we? I wasn’t sure,” Gregor said, raising an eyebrow at her.
Faye pointed to the ingredients strewn across the counter. “The food,” she said, moving next to Gregor and looking more closely at what he was making. Then, throwing caution to the wind, she decided to make a huge confession. “Remember what you said on the plane? About my sex life? Well, you were right.”
Gregor stopped what he was doing and gave Faye his full attention.
“The thing is, I just don’t think I like sex anymore,” she said, running a hand through her long blond hair. “At least, I didn’t think I ever would again. Until earlier today.”
Gregor’s eyes lit up with desire and he moved toward her with laser focus.
“Wait,” she said, holding out her hand when he was almost close enough to touch her. “I’m not sure we should do this. Even if it would be fun…”
Gregor put his hands around her waist and just when it looked like he was about to kiss her, he instead spoke directly into the side of her neck. She could feel the gentle bristle of his facial hair on her skin as he moved his lips.
“I just want you to feel pleasure,” he whispered, his breath hot on her neck.
Faye nearly melted, her skin tingling in anticipation of that pleasure, but she somehow managed to maintain her composure.
“I’m a journalist, working on a story,” she said, reminding Gregor of her creed. Or was she really trying to remind herself? She knew there was something she had learned in school about reporters needing to remain clearheaded, which was at the moment impossible to do, as Gregor planted openmouthed kisses along her neck.
“Wait,” Faye said, breaking away from Gregor and trying hard to catch her breath. “I can’t get involved with my subject. It’s unethical.”
“Is that really what you’re concerned about?” Gregor said, pushing Faye’s curtain of long blond hair behind her ear and looking directly in her eyes. Faye could see that this had been true all of his life. He was used to getting whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it. But not this time.
“I never get involved with my subjects. It’s my personal policy,” Faye said, steeling herself. Every inch of her body was pulling toward this man’s touch, but her mind held her back. Just as she was about to turn and head back to her room, his voice called her back.
“Wait,” he said. “What if it’s just about me showing you one of my skills? For your article.”
Faye couldn’t help but be intrigued. “And what skill is that?”
As an answer, Gregor pushed all of the utensils and ingredients off the countertop and easily lifted Faye onto it so that she was seated directly in front of him. She could feel the cool sensation of the marble against the parts of her buttocks that were exposed by her shorts. She breathed in deeply and kept eye contact with Gregor as he moved in close enough to kiss her, but then knelt down, looping his fingers into the elastic waistband and lifting her up slightly as he removed her