Gilded Obsession

LUCILLA

Albert’s fingers drummed against the steering wheel of his BMW as he eased onto the highway, the soft hum of the engine filling the car. The late afternoon sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the horizon in streaks of amber and lilac. He stole a glance at Lucilla, who sat beside him, her phone in one hand, scrolling absently, while her other hand toyed with the hem of her short skirt, he reached out and stroked the inside of her upper thigh.

She smiled invitingly.

“Focus, man. Better not get us killed. You know, you didn’t have to come all the way,” she said, looking up from her screen.

“You called,” Albert replied, shifting gears as they merged into the flow of traffic. “Besides, I thought we agreed you’d stay the week. This just makes it easier.”

Lucilla finally glanced at him, a small smile playing on her lips. “You make it sound so logical, like you’re not the least bit excited to see me.”

Albert smirked but said nothing, focusing instead on the road ahead. The drive from New Haven, where Lucilla’s office was located, to West Hartford stretched just over thirty minutes, passing through pockets of quiet, tree-lined suburbs and bustling town centers. On either side of the highway, colonial-style homes with manicured lawns gave way to stretches of wooded areas, their leaves beginning to show the first hints of autumn’s fiery palette.

“So, how was work?” he asked.

Lucilla let out an exaggerated sigh, tossing her phone into her lap. “Exhausting. Corporate law is just—ugh. A never-ending game of chess, but the stakes are actual millions. You should’ve seen my boss today. He thinks he’s some kind of deity because he closed a merger before lunch.”

Albert chuckled. “I keep telling you, you’re surrounded by a bunch of high-functioning narcissists.”

“Don’t I know it! And I have to babysit them all.” She ran a hand through her dark, sleek hair and turned to face him. “But you don’t want to hear about that. Tell me about you. How’s the business?”

Albert exhaled, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror before switching lanes. “It’s steady. The new sneaker line is getting some traction. A few influencers have reached out, but I want to be selective. I’d rather build a strong brand than chase quick hype.”

Lucilla studied him for a moment, her gaze sharp yet unreadable. “That’s smart. Not everyone in your position would have the patience.”

He shrugged. “I’d rather do it right.”

A comfortable silence settled between them as they cruised past the exit for Meriden. The town’s skyline—low buildings and church steeples nestled against a backdrop of rolling hills—looked picturesque in the golden hour light. Albert had always liked this stretch of the drive. It was peaceful, a brief reprieve from the noise of his thoughts. Thoughts of Marcia and all the things he had begun to imagine he would do to her, and she to him. He had spent most of the day shamelessly indulging in fantasies of her on top of him, her head tilted back, red hair undone and flowing, his hands cupping the magnificent fullness of her breasts, imagining the bright red of her n*****s, running his thumbs over them. He visualized the way her hips would move with impassioned expertise, navigating, the devilish look in her eyes as though she were working to claim his soul. She had a fiery way about her, he would let her take her fair share of control.

Lucilla stretched, sighing and shifting slightly in her seat, snapping him out of his reverie. “So, now that you’ve finally moved out of Greenwich, do you feel like you’ve escaped? Or are you just waiting for your next existential crisis?”

Albert huffed a laugh. “Bit of both,” he added jokingly.

She grinned. “Figures. You’re always waiting for the next thing to go wrong.”

Albert shot her a look. “Well, how’s that for really exaggerating?”

“I imagine you think you’re just being prepared, ready for contingencies and all. But I call it the fastest route to self-sabotage,” she said, propping her elbow on the window and resting her chin on her palm. “You’re always second-guessing things, Albert.”

He laughed, keeping his expression neutral. He really enjoyed the banter she gave. “And you’re always so sure of everything, huh?”

Lucilla smirked. “Confidence, babe. It’s a requirement in my line of work.”

The way she said it—lightly teasing yet laced with something else—made Albert wonder if she was really trying to communicate that she felt he sometimes second-guessed her as a long-term partner. It was a dance they often did, these subtle entreaties for revalidation wrapped in ‘’fake deep’’ appraisal of his character.

They were passing through Southington now, a quiet town with a mix of old New England charm and suburban modernity. Small diners and local shops dotted the streets, their neon signs flickering as dusk approached. Albert thought about stopping for coffee but decided against it.

“So, tell me,” Lucilla continued, crossing her legs and turning to face him fully. “Are you actually settled in, or are you just pretending to be?”

Albert sighed, running a hand through his hair.

More innuendo? He thought

“It’s… getting there.”

Lucilla arched a brow. “That doesn’t sound promising.”

He exhaled through his nose, keeping his eyes on the road. “It’s just an adjustment. You know how it is—new place, new routines.”

She leaned back, studying him. “New temptations?”

Albert looked sideways at her, a hint of amusement in his expression. “Fresh attractions” he said. ‘’West Hartford is the kind of place where new ideas can really settle in and develop, you know’’

Lucilla shrugged, her expression unreadable. “ Well, it’s certainly not wanting for charm, it’s so charming it sometimes feels like a dream ’’

The rest of the drive passed with easy conversation, touching on everything from weekend plans to their mutual distaste for extra fussy traffic laws. By the time they pulled into his apartment complex, the sky had deepened into navy, the streetlamps casting long shadows across the pavement.

Lucilla stepped out of the car, stretching her arms above her head. “I forgot how quiet it is over here. You might actually get some work done.”

Albert chuckled, grabbing her bag from the backseat. “That’s the plan.”

They made their way up to his apartment, and as soon as they stepped inside, Lucilla kicked off her heels with a sigh. “God, that feels better.”

Albert smirked, tossing her bag onto the couch. “Long day, counselor?”

She plopped down beside it, stretching her legs out. “The longest.”

He made his way to the kitchen, grabbing two glasses and pouring them each a drink. As he handed one to her, she studied him over the rim, a glint of something unreadable in her gaze.

Albert leaned back, nursing the last sip of his drink, his mind circling the unspoken tensions of the evening. Lucilla, perched on the couch beside him, stretched languidly, lifting her arms above her head. The movement caused her shirt to ride up, revealing the delicate curve of her lower back and the grey lace of her thong peeking just above her waistband.

She made a small, satisfied sound as she arched her back further, completely in Albert’s line of sight, a knowing smirk playing at her lips. There was nothing accidental about the way she moved—Lucilla never did anything by accident. She didn’t need to tease him like this; there were a dozen other ways she could have initiated intimacy. But this was who she was. Manipulation wasn’t just a means to an end for her—it was instinct, woven into the fabric of everything she did, even the smallest, most unnecessary gestures.

Albert exhaled slowly, setting his glass down with deliberate ease. His fingers grazed the waistband of her pants, his touch possessive yet hesitant, lingering at the edge of something unspoken.

Lucilla turned her head, locking eyes with him over her shoulder. Her gaze was dark, smoldering—a challenge wrapped in seduction. She smiled, slow and knowing.

And Albert, hardened with anticipation, reached for her.