Beneath The CEOs Sheets

Riiiiiiinnnnnnnggggggg!!! Brittany's phone rang again. She almost didn’t answer. Her fingers hovered over the screen, rainwater dripping from her sleeve onto the cracked glass. She blinked, heart pounding, chest tight. It was Bianca. Again. With a quiet sigh, she swiped to answer. “Brit?” her sister’s voice came through, gentle but urgent. “Are you okay? I’ve been calling since last night. What the hell happened?” Brittany’s throat tightened. Her boots squished in the puddle below as she adjusted the strap of her backpack. She stood outside the hotel, drenched from head to toe, mascara running, heart raw. “I’m fine,” she muttered, lying through her teeth. “Don’t lie to me. I heard what happened. You and John were supposed to be on that flight. Then you canceled your part of the reservation. What’s going on?” Brittany exhaled shakily. “Bianca, please. I don’t want to talk about it.” “Did he cheat on you?” The words struck like a slap. With her best friend. Since preschool. Brittany closed her eyes, the image flashing again in her mind: John's hands on Beverly, Beverly’s lips on his neck, their laughter, their whispers. In her apartment. On her couch. Her voice came out small. “It doesn’t matter.” “Brit.” “I’m serious,” she snapped, louder than she intended. “I just need space, okay?” “Fine,” Bianca said after a pause, her voice soft. “But I’m here if you want to talk. Please don’t shut me out.” “I know.” And with that, Brittany ended the call. No goodbye. No, thanks. Just silence. She stood there for a beat, blinking against the rain, her heart heavier than the bag on her shoulder. Her wet hair stuck to her cheeks, her lips trembling as she stared at the hotel doors ahead. She wasn’t going to let John Kennedy ruin this trip too. She came all this way. She paid for the room. She deserved to get away. Brittany pushed through the glass doors, the lobby warm and quiet. The receptionist handed her the key card with a plastic smile and a robotic “Room 406.” Her fingers trembled as she took it. The elevator was slow, humming softly as it climbed. She caught her reflection in the mirrored walls; wet, broken, eyes rimmed red with tears, hair tangled, lipstick gone. Not the girl who was supposed to be engaged by now. Not the girl who imagined beach sunsets and surprise proposals. No. This was someone else. “Congratulations, Miss Blair,” she told her reflection bitterly. “You’ve officially become the cautionary tale your mother warned you about.” The bell chimed. The elevator door clicked open. She stepped out. Room 406 was at the far end of the hallway. Her footsteps echoed against the marble floor as she walked, mind spinning. She unlocked the door. Click. Push. Dark. She flicked the light switch but nothing came on. “Figures,” she muttered. Her body felt heavy. Exhausted. She dumped her bag inside, slammed the door behind her, and peeled off her jacket, letting it drop to the floor with a wet thud. Then her sweater. Her soaked jeans. Her bra. Her underwear. She kicked them aside and stood in the dark room for a moment, letting the silence wrap around her. It didn’t feel real yet. The betrayal. The silence from Beverly. The smug guilt on John’s face. Her body trembled, not from the cold, but from the weight of everything crashing down at once. She went in for a bath trying to focus but couldn't get the images and words of the betrayal from the walls of her mind. “Oh yh… F**k!” Beverly moaned softly while riding her man and John grabbing her waist tightly like it was about to lose control. She hurriedly took her bath, came out and proceeded to her bag, brought out her vibrator and stared at it with pity. She crawled onto the bed, her skin still damp, her hair plastered onto her back. The sheets were cool against her. She lay there, staring at the ceiling in the dim ambient light slipping through the curtains. Beverly Hytes. Her best friend since they were four. Every sleepover. Every secret. Every birthday. And John? The man she loved. The man who told her just last week that she was “the one.” Lies. All of it. Her fingers clenched the sheet beside her as she began to slide the vibrator in between her legs. She hated that she still ached. That her body still wanted what her heart was rejecting. That her anger burned right alongside a craving for something, and anything to drown out the pain. Her legs shifted slightly. Her body curled into itself. She tried to stop thinking. Tried to ignore the heat rising through her. But her mind kept replaying it: John’s voice, Beverly’s laugh and sinful moan, their hands on each other. It twisted something deep inside her, a sharp mix of fury and desire and shame. Her hand slipped under the sheets. She closed her eyes. It wasn’t about them. Not anymore. She needed to feel something else. Something that belonged to her and not to betrayal, not to memories. Her breath hitched as her vibrator moved, slow at first, then a little more desperate. She turned her face onto the pillow, trying to stay quiet, but the ache was louder than she expected. A soft moan escaped her lips. Her hips shifted. She wasn't imagining John anymore. No. She pushed his face from her thoughts, erased his name, replaced it with… Anyone but him. Her breath quickened. Her body tightened. The sheets rustled. Her mind spun faster than her vibrator could move, every pulse pushing her further away from the pain and deeper into the numbness she so desperately needed. Until… Click! The door. It opened. Thud. The sound of it slamming against the wall. Light burst into the room. Warm. Yellow. Blinding. Brittany froze. Her eyes shot open, her hand yanked back beneath the sheet and quickly hid the vibrator as her heart pounded in her ears. Footsteps. A shadow. And then, “Whoa!” a deep voice said, low and stunned. She couldn't see his face yet. Just the outline of a tall man standing in the doorway, backlit by the hallway light, one hand still on the switch. Her voice caught in her throat. The room was dead silent. He stepped in slowly. Confused. Blinking. Looking from the key card in his hand to her wide eyes on the bed. “… What the hell?” And then it hit her. She wasn’t alone in Room 406. She was never supposed to be.