The Ghost: Aftermath of a Steamy One Night Stand

The Aftermath

(Nisha's POV)

I sprang up unclad from the plush bed, my legs entangled in the sheets.

I felt disoriented as I scanned the suite.

It was luxurious.

It was nothing like my familiar studio apartment.

Memories of the previous night came rushing back — the bar; the conversation with the hot stranger, the unexpected intimacy, and now, nothing.

Fernando had left without a word.

I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes as I searched the massive suite.

“Maybe he'd left his contact information, a business card, anything.”

But my search was furtive.

“He took advantage of my pain. Now, I'm just another addition in his inherited billionaire collection,” I conceded. Frustrated. Angry.

“Men!” I screamed at the empty room. Clenching my teeth as I angrily flung the sheets off the bed.

I soon dragged my spent self into the spacious bathroom. The warm water from the shower running on my body only made matters worse. It was waking up all the burning desires that had been brewing under my skin from the very moment I had set my eyes on this handsome stranger.

Hours later, I was back in my apartment in downtown Manhattan.

I was now back to reality.

The familiar mess, the old furniture.

They were a stark contrast from the lavish room I had just woken up in this morning.

A strange emptiness descended upon me, heightening the pain in my heart.

So I buried herself in my artwork. Desperately fighting the memories of the passionate night I had just shared with Fernando. To no avail — it was the best I'd had in such a long while.

Dropping my paint brush, I could feel my full breasts swelling up from under the silk baby pink gown I was wearing. They were full and heavy with want. They were missing his touch already.

I let my imagination run wild.

I remember everything: his hot kisses, his lips soft and firm, his jawline chiseled to perfection — everything....

I remember how right there in the elevator, Fernando took my left n****e into his hot mouth, his tongue drawing circles around my hard n****e, sending goosebumps all over my skin, while his right hand cupped my butts. His hand, strong and evidence of years spent working out, squeezed my bum, making me wet with desire, his lips continuing their sweet assault on my hard left n****e.

He dropped down slowly, kissing my belly button as he slowly glides down my body.

I squeeze my rock-hard n*****s. I could now feel my juices welling up in my bare fleshy mound. I was naked underneath my pink button-down gown. I moaned lightly as my finger wander down finding their way to my wetness. Memories of that steamy night were already driving me crazy.

Back in my daydream, the elevator door clicks open. Quickly adjusting my gown, Fernando took my hand and quickly led me along the corridor heading to our suite. Closing the door behind us as we step inside, he rips off the soft gown from my body, picking me up from the floor with great ease, and laying me down on the big master bed as our lips remain locked. Now, my body tenses as I moans sweetly. He had driven me crazy in one night. I'd never felt this way in such a long time, not even with Arjun.

Gliding down my belly button, Fernando kissed my inner thighs, savoring the warmth coming from my wet mound. I moan loudly, arching her hips towards his hot mouth as he kisses my inner thighs. I remember digging my well manicured fingers into his dark ruffled hair, moaning and squirming, urging him further.

Suddenly, a sharp knock on the door bring me back from my passionate daydream.

My heart skip a beat.

Adjusting the buttons on my gown, I check myself in the mirror before heading to the door trying to control my shaky legs.

Standing right outside the door was a delivery man. He was carrying a large bouquet.

“Nisha, ma’am?”

I nod.

“Please sign here,” he urged politely, handing her a notepad.

I watch him ride off on his bicycle before staring wide-eyed again at the large bouquet.

They were beautiful lilies.

Bringing the flowers to my nostrils, their sweet smell made me feel heady.

“Who could have sent these?”

Looking inside the bouquet again, I see something like a small white card.

On it, written in elegant handwriting, was just one letter: “F”.

A shiver ran down my spine.

It was Fernando.

Was this an apology? Or, a sign that he wanted to reconnect? Or was it just another cruel game he was playing?

I couldn't deny that it had some effect on me. His touch, their kiss, everything was still hot in my memory. So hot I could barely remember Arjun's betrayal.

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(Third Person POV)

The next few days were a blur.

Nisha plunged herself into work with an unexpected passion.

Every stroke on the white canvas was another protest against the wrongs done to her.

Wednesday morning, she received a invitation in her mail—a well-known art gala being hosted by Arjun’s gallery.

Seeing his name made her suddenly feel nauseous.

“Nisha honey,” Lena began, her company the only familiar thing Nisha enjoyed right now. “You're now a real-life Grinch and it worries me.”

Nisha groaned into the couch cushions.

She was only interested in reliving the night with Fernando. Not some annoying art gala.

“Leave me alone, Lena. I'm in hibernation mode, please.”

Lena burst out laughing.

“Hibernation, you say? Baby girl, it's July, not January. And to be honest, you're already looking like one.”

“Hey!” Nisha exclaimed, flinging a soft pillow at her best friend.

Lena raised her hand in mock surrender.

“Just joking with you, girl,” Lena laughed. “But sincerely Nisha, you're really missing out. The art world I know is colorful, and it's full of —”

“Strangers, noise, and many fake smiles,” Nisha countered. “Trust me girlfriend, I would rather enjoy the quietness and the honesty of my own company.”

Lena rolled her eyes.

“Oh come on Nisha, all these dramas, they're unnecessary. “Listen, Nisha, you're a beautiful and talented artist. Let the real world inspire you.”

“Inspire me how?” Nisha retorted, bitter. “You mean the same old script? Where people pretend to be happy when they're slowly dying inside? No, thank you.”

Lena sighed dramatically.

“Okay, fine. Enjoy your eerie apartment. But don't blame me if you end up regretting missing that art gala next week.”

“Me, attend? Give him any power over my emotions? It would be like walking into a den of lions.”

Lena leaned in.

“Honey, I understand. Arjun is a stupid jerk. I told you many times to leave him, but you won't listen. However, this art gala isn't about Arjun. It's about you honey. It's about you, your art, your dream, your wins. Imagine that painful look of defeat in his eyes when you defeat him hands down.”

Nisha jerked.

“I don't need anyone to validate me, Lena.”

“Oh please,” Lena smirked. “You that I know very well? You crave that recognition, that glory, the applause. This your artist-with-a-heart act is wearing thin.”

Nisha finally sat up, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Maybe a tiny bit,” she conceded.

“That's my girl!” Lena exclaimed, smiling, victory evident. “Now, let's fan that tiny flame that was woken up inside you. You're coming with me, and you'll slay that gala.”

Nisha hesitates. Then nodded.

“Fine, I'll go. But if I end up pissed and kicking Arjun in the crotch, I'm blaming you.”

“Excellent!” Lena accepted as they laughed.

Lena was right.

There was something inside Nisha that refused to let Arjun control her life anymore. This wasn’t just about him anymore; this was about reclaiming who she is as an artist, having confidence again.

For one painful hour, she dressed up.

She chose a sleek red dress that clung to her hips in an agonizing way. Its fabric was soft and cool against her skin.

Gazing up at herself through the dressing mirror, Nisha knew that tonight would not be a tragic night for her. Instead, she’ll glow tonight.

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The gallery was alive.

Dignitaries and members of the press occupied every nook and cranny.

Their chatters and the sound of champagne glasses clinking together.

Across the room, amid his entourage of socialites, their eyes met. Arjun's face then broke into a smug grin that instantly made her feel sick.

Smiling, she looked around the room in search of anyone else but this bastard.

Then she saw him.

He was everything she had remembered from that steamy night — tall, immaculately dressed and radiating confidence.

Then, Fernando saw her.

She was staring at him from a distance.

That feeling of guilt after disappearing abruptly still nagged him.

Excusing himself from his conversation with some friends, he began walking towards her, his heart beating against his ribs.

He needed to apologize.

To say he was sorry for his actions.

To explain why he had acted so.

And above all, he needed to understand why he was even more attracted to this woman in a way that no other woman ever made him feel.

Their eyes locked together as he strode towards her.

The chemistry between them was obvious.

“Fernando! Great seeing you,” Arjun stopped him halfway, extending his hand for a friendly handshake.