Pieces of My Pedestal

By Michele Steele

She was totally consumed with love. She could not focus or sleep. He gazed into her eyes with hot passion. "Not only do you set me on fire with your lovemaking, but I adore your mind, your heart, your wisdom." Then he was gone. Just like the others. To strangers, she had it all as a successful business owner. She worked hard to be a powerful bus

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michele Steele
• Release date: Sep 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9781736353103

Book preview

TitlePage

Copyright © 2021 Michele Steele

Pieces of My Pedestal

Pedestals | Book 1

All rights reserved

ISBN: 978-1-7363531-1-0 (paperback), 978-1-7363531-0-3 (epub)

Publishing and Design Services: MelindaMartin.me

Books of fiction are based on experiences we have had in our lives or some we have heard about and they have triggered our imagination.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This work is intended for adults only. It contains sexually explicit language and scenes that may be considered offensive by some readers. None of the characters engaging in sexual conduct in this work of fiction are under the age of 18, legally unable to give consent, or related by blood.

Acknowledgements

I must thank my two North Stars, Ron P. and Amy H. Their guidance throughout my entire life has had a monumental impact on me. They have both passed on; however, their voices still carry me forward.

My lifelong NY friends are my true family. They have watched me grow from a young adult to a career professional to a senior citizen and have been by my side unconditionally.

Thank you to Patricia R., Kathy M., Kathie H., and Marianne G.: You are my roots. How blessed am I. My Florida friends took up their mantle 25 years ago and added so much to my life.

Thank you to Nina W., June K., J.P., Terry R. and many more. A loving thank you to Mia R., Eddie G., Ronnie G., Clarise K., Larry R., and Dennis K. too.

"You can’t knock a girl off

the pedestal she built herself." —Anonymous

Contents

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 1

The horse auctions were thrilling. Watching the fast- paced world of big money betting millions of dollars on the horses transported me to a fantasy life. You just had to twitch and accidentally, you could be betting millions of dollars on a horse. I stayed completely still and transfixed.

My mother and her friends worked at Saratoga Racetrack, and I made it a point of going there for a few months every summer. It was an exciting getaway and an inexpensive, relaxing vacation.

I had worked my way up to VP of Marketing for a Wall Street firm. Although it was an exciting job, I worked long hours and had no social life. What I most relished every summer was spending lazy days in the Saratoga museums and lazily shopping in the myriad of antique shops and crafts stores. These tiny stores carried the possibility of unearthing valuable hidden treasures. You simply had to rummage through.

This quaint town of mountains and lakes was a much needed departure from the hectic pace of New York City.

The nightclub in town was rustic and the music was blaring. It was an old barn with wooden dance floor and knick knacks hanging from the walls. This casual nightclub was the liveliest spot in town and everyone congregated there. The band was loud but the crowd was usually louder.

And then, there he was. . .

He looked like a magnificent model. He was tall with gorgeous blue eyes and dark brown hair. His slender body hid his strength. His smile stopped me in my tracks and had my whole body tingling.

He sat down next to me and we talked for hours, our knees touching, as if we were the only people in the room. The blaring music and screams of laughter from the crowd disappeared as we told each other our life’s stories. All I saw was him. There was a strange thirst to have this person really know me, really hear me. I hoped he felt the same way. I sensed he felt it also.

Your mother has mentioned you over the years, he said.

He was my mother’s boss and I should not allow this to go any further.

My mother had had affairs with some of her co-workers and Lucas might even have been one of them. Mom was unstable, possessive and would fly off the deep end often. She could be dangerous and destructive.

I could not stop myself. I had never felt such a wonderful and fiery connection. He lured me in without even trying.

We closed the bar and continued our talk outside. The cool breezes of the night made my body want his warmth wrapped around me. My body ached to touch him but I refrained. That night I went back to my hotel room—alone.

Early the next morning, the phone rang. It was Lucas. My heart was fluttering.

I miss you already, he whispered. Please meet me for breakfast.

I dressed quickly and joined him in the hotel restaurant. His thick brown hair was still wet from his morning’s shower. He looked gorgeous in a dark navy sweatshirt and navy shorts. He had to dress formally on his work days and told me he liked being relaxed on his days off.

Lucas started talking about his dreams and somehow, the world was just us again. Everyone in the restaurant seemed to have disappeared.

I wanted to be a senator when I was in college. There was a twinkle in his eye as he continued talking. "I was captain of the debate club in college and devoured every article I could find on politics and current events. I studied the great leaders of the world. It made me feel alive. I put in long hours going door to door and meeting the constituents when I worked on the Vice Presidents’ Election campaign. Talking to the people taught me about life.

The campaign chairman asked me to run the public relations for the campaign. I was thrown into the trenches and loved every minute of it. It was magic! he said with a laugh. I was thrilled when the chairman asked me to run for Congress in my district.

I worked for campaigns, too! I interrupted with a smile. I loved it and really became caught up in the excitement. It’s such a fascinating world. I wanted to be an attorney and work in politics, I added.

Then, his voice became quieter, almost sad and he whispered, My wife did not want a public life at all. She felt that I would not be home to help raise our two children. I was not strong enough—or maybe not committed enough to fight her, so I walked away from politics.

I could feel the deep hurt for the years he lost in a loveless marriage and for the dreams he had been forced to set aside.

He said he had finally separated from his wife six months ago. Their marriage had died years before, but he adored his kids and had not wanted to hurt them. His wife was a controlling, angry woman; he had not made as much money as she thought he would and she was bitter. She never wanted to live a mediocre life. She made sure to degrade him every chance she could, in public and in the privacy of their home and bed.

His children were finally in high school and he thought they might be old enough now to handle the separation. He believed I would understand since my parents divorced when I was fourteen.

My father had a business in Tokyo, and he had moved our family there when we were young, I uttered.

Your mom told me about your father abandoning your family and moving his mistress into your house in Tokyo, Lucas said. She said he did it the day after he sent you back to the United States on a freighter.

Lucas, I never blamed my dad for the divorce, I remarked. My mother never really loved him and they lived separate lives. My father was a charming, rich, jet-setter and all my mother cared about was living the high life. She was never there for the children, and she let our cook, Tomoko, and our chauffeurs raise us while she shopped.

He seemed shocked by my comment that the cook and chauffeurs were our proxy parents. I am sure my mother must have told him a completely different story. She had always lived in a fantasy world and blamed everyone else for whatever went wrong in her life. I wanted him to understand that his children might forgive him for leaving, too.

Lucas only had thoughts of my hurt and showed so much empathy.

You not only had to live through your parents’ separation, but you came back to the US from Japan knowing no one, not even your grandparents. Is it true that your father stayed in Tokyo and never called you again or came back to see you? he asked painfully. There was a hint of not believing anyone could do that in his voice.

Yes, that was really devastating, I answered. According to my mother, we are not in his life or in his will any longer. I lost the life that I knew. At the same time, we lost our mother, too. She stayed in her bedroom and ate cookies and yodels whenever she was home—which was not often. She didn’t even pretend to care for us.

Lucas had a tear in his eye as I relayed my story. It was clear he felt great sadness for me, the child that was abandoned and thrown away. He moved over and hugged me tightly and rubbed my back.

You are such a kind and extraordinary man, I whispered in his ear. Your children are lucky to have such a loving father. You are not destroying their lives because you left; I can feel the impact you must have had on their lives already. The love and values you have instilled in them is so important, and I can tell you first hand that it never goes away, I softly told him.

He stared at me as he kept rubbing my back and holding me tight. His touch was sending sparks throughout my body.

Come, he said. Let’s continue this talk while we drive to the lake.

As we entered the luscious grounds by the lake, he pulled over and stopped the car.

Follow me, he said breathlessly. I want to show you my friend’s boat house. We walked down the path in silence. He was much taller than me and walked quickly so I had a hard time keeping up.

Lucas, I want to see this beautiful garden. Would you mind walking a bit slower? The lush green hedges surrounded the house for total privacy with beautiful flowers of different vibrant colors lining the pathway. The gardens were formal and had been kept magnificently. Your eyes were drawn to the huge cascading water fountains placed strategically throughout the gardens highlighting the magnificent landscape.

As we entered the oversized wooden door, he abruptly grabbed me.

You are incredibly beautiful, Lucas moaned close to my ear. His gaze was bathed with the look of love and lust. I can’t wait one more minute to touch you. His hands were moving slowly from my neck to my backside and up again.

He looked down at me as if trying to see into my soul. His lips found mine and his tongue was imploring—hot and hard in my mouth. His kiss started an explosion of heat straight from my mouth to my sex. My entire body filled with arousal, responding to his kiss.

I grabbed his hair and hungrily planted kisses all over this face moving around his ears and nipping his neck. He was groaning and found my mouth again and soon we were lost in the smell and feel of each other’s bodies. He oozed strength from every muscle.

Our tongues were exploring deep within our being, exciting, arousing and trying desperately to fill the holes in both of our souls. His hand was cupping my breast, and I felt the tingle of his thumb rubbing my nipple over my blouse. The friction heightened his touch, and I became lost, groaning with delight. Slowly, he lifted my blouse and raised it over my head—all the while staring into my eyes. He unfastened my bra and let it fall to the floor. His tongue was now circling my bust. . .round. . .round and round. He put my nipple into his mouth and pulled softly with his teeth. I moaned at the electricity running through me as his lips closed around me. He sucked long and hard. It had been many, many years since I felt. . .felt . . .

I reached down for his zipper and released his throbbing erection. Oh my, he was glorious.

I wrapped my legs and arms around him, holding him tight against me. He started to move and slowly found my opening and entered me. Over and over he plunged, climbing inside of me as far as he could. Hard pushes. He was getting lost in the wet feeling of my welcoming vagina and possessively filling up my body with his beautiful manhood. I groaned and met him thrust for thrust. Hearing him panting and losing himself in me as my body took over propelled me to climb higher and higher with each thrust.

Cum with me, he gasped.

I was in ecstasy watching this sexy man want me—need me—as he released, loudly.

His passion was my undoing and I lost myself in him, screaming his name as my body pulsed around him.

He rolled off of me, and I could feel his body deflate. He became very sullen. After a few minutes, he put his two hands on either side of my face and lifted my eyes to his.

My beautiful baby, please forgive me, I am sorry, he said choking with tremendous regret.

I was taken aback. What could he be sorry for after such magical lovemaking?

You are beautiful and wonderfully exciting, and I could not stop, he said almost as if ashamed.

Your mother and I work together and she is my wife’s friend, too. You know she will cause horrible problems. She will go after—my children—my life—my job! What are we going to do?" he muttered almost sobbing.

I did not realize I would have such strong feelings for you, he moaned. Perhaps I should take you back to your hotel now.

I was confused, angry, desperate for his touch and more desperate for his love. I gathered up my clothes and yelled, Yes, take me back to the hotel NOW. My anger got the best of me and I spat, You are really good at running away, aren’t you?

We drove to the hotel in silence. He tried to hold my hand as he walked me to the lobby and I pulled away. Don’t you dare touch me! Don’t ever touch me.

I was spinning with doubt and confusion. He had just made love to me. I had thought he cared. My heart had hoped he would mend it. Instead he had taken a knife to it.

Chapter 2

I did not hear from him for three days. I was a mess; devastated that I had opened up my heart and it had meant nothing. So familiar.

Now, I was on autopilot, functioning but not really feeling anything. I resolved to go to town and look for antiques. Shopping could always console me. I went downstairs to the lobby to get a taxi and. . .

There he was.

He was wearing a white linen shirt and navy pants and his aviator glasses. His striking masculinity took my breath away. I thought I had given up on his passion, but that was then. This is now and my heart leaped.

What are you doing here? I asked hesitantly.

I knew you wouldn’t answer if I called so I came here to see you. I was going to wait all day until I found you. Dana, you were right—I was running from you. You terrified me. You touched the deepest parts of my soul and made me feel alive for the first time in many years. His voice was low and begging for forgiveness.

I thought it would be easy to just walk away but I can’t get you out of my mind. Your voice, your smell, your touch. . .I am unable to move on without you.

What does that mean? I cried out. What about my mother. What do you really want, Lucas?

He shot me a look filled with pain. Look, I know I hurt you. I was a fool. Please give me another chance. I promise. . .I promise to show you that I care. He could hardly talk.

His eyes met mine again, drinking me in, sucking the doubt from me. My mind was whirling—uncertain. He touched my soul and I did not want to lose him. But I was scared. Would he hurt me again and leave?

Ok. I will see you, but no intercourse. Let’s see where this leads first, I said bluntly.

The next few weeks were a whirlwind of happiness. We were together every minute he was not working. During the day, we drove throughout the countryside searching for antiques to decorate my new apartment.

These mahogany pieces are very special, aren’t they? he remarked.

Lucas loved the beauty of the old pieces as I much as I did. He would pick out the pieces with character and detail. He would ask me if I liked certain pieces almost knowing what my answer would be. When I told him that I loved them, he smiled, pleased with his choices.

You and I have the same taste in furniture, he exclaimed gleefully to me.

I love the pieces you pick out. I can imagine stories of grand parties in the parlor when I stare at these sofas. I smiled broadly.

Little did I know that he had not only eyed them but also paid for a few of the pieces that I claimed to love. He quietly arranged to have them shipped to my house in the city. He wanted to surprise me as he went about decorating my apartment.

Lucas knew our relationship had special meaning and he made sure to buy me a token gift to remember him in every store we visited.

We could talk about anything. We feel understood without judgment and spent hours discovering and encouraging each other’s dreams. Lucas had arranged for us to have romantic dinners every few nights. In between the fancy dinners, we just ordered in or he cooked for me.

I told him how I wanted to own my own company and be a huge success. I was ambitious and loved business, something my father had instilled in me. Even though Dad had left, he still had managed to have a huge impact on me. I also had a love for politics but thought it was much too cutthroat for me as a career.

SceneBreak

I was dying to have Lucas touch me—to make love to me. Yet, somehow it was more important to me that we took the time to get to know each other.

This felt real, not just sex, nothing like the others, I told myself. We were very discreet and would sneak off without anyone knowing. It felt magical.

One Saturday, he drove for hours and we found an out-of- the-way lake for a romantic picnic dinner. It was a beautiful night with the glowing sunset fading behind the mountains.

Lucas got very quiet and gazed at me. Is it true that you swallowed a bottle of pills when you were seventeen and almost died? There was a great deal of hesitation in his voice.

I looked at him in shock. I did not know my mother had told anyone about this. I felt betrayed.

Yes, it was my desperate cry for help, I answered in shock. I really did not think anyone loved me at all. I was sad and knew I needed to talk to someone. I found a therapist near my home. I tried, but instead of talking to me, the therapist just prescribed a bottle of pills. That same night, I swallowed the entire bottle. Then I calmly walked outside to a bench and waited to die.

Why did you do it?’ I could hear the anguish in his voice. He wanted to know everything. Why that night?" There was panic in his voice.

Deep down, I thought he was afraid his kids would be as lonely and hurt by his own divorce as I had been back then. It was clear that he still felt guilty about leaving his children. Although we were talking about me, I could feel his fear and deep pain, too.

He kept asking questions that exposed the scars still lingering in me from my attempted suicide. I tried to answer him as honestly as I could even though my soul was bleeding. I told him how my mom had never shown up for the family therapy sessions at the hospital. The doctors were infuriated by her.

The doctors had also been appalled when they called my father in Tokyo to tell him that I might not live—and he had refused to fly in to see me.

He told them, If she dies, there is nothing I can do and if she lives, she must learn to stand on her own two feet.

With a tear in my eye, I said, "I