He arrived at my house after an exhausting day at work; I'm not only irritable but also desperately craving my chocolate, so much so that I can hardly wait to be drenched in sweat over her while Jackie screams my name, begging me for more.
Another erection, it's not subsided for a single minute; I need her or I might die.
In the solitude of my room, I decide to send her a message to come over; Elle isn’t here today. I wonder how many more ways I have to tell her I want her out of my life, but she insists on staying; she's unbearable.
"I want my chocolate, hot."
I wait for a reply, but it doesn't come; she might be upset, why isn't she responding?
I fall asleep after doing things I don't enjoy to relieve tension, but imagining her backside and hearing her scream my name lets me do it. It's not the same, but it does help. Tomorrow, I'll seek a conversation with Jackie; we need to clarify several things about our relationship.
Waking up as usual, not a single ray of light penetrates my room; I dislike that. I take a shower and get dressed in my three-piece gray suit, go downstairs for breakfast – it's become routine, all thanks to Jackie, because I never did that before, at least not at home.
"Good morning!" I greet everyone in general, Jackie still hasn't shown up to serve breakfast.
"I must inform you that Jackeline resigned and left the house yesterday." It's as if a bucket of ice water has been poured over me.
"What are you talking about? What did you do to make her leave?" I demand angrily.
"Cameron, calm down!" my father tries to soothe me. I look at my grandmother, who just smiles.
"What the hell does it matter to you why she left or where she's gone? She's just an employee; they leave when it suits them."
"Of course, she found some guy to keep her, that's how those... women are," my sister’s words boil my blood.
"Excuse me, little sister, speak for yourself because Jackeline isn't that kind of woman," I defend her, revealing my feelings.
"And what kind of woman is she, according to you?" my mother counters angrily.
"That's enough, everyone!" my father demands, silencing us.
"This is getting good," I hear the idiot Benjamin mutter.
"You, idiot, shut up. You're nobody here, just living off my mother's charity."
"Aunt Jenna," he whimpers like a spoiled brat, ridiculous since he’s my age and acts like a child.
"Cameron, you're getting out of line. All this fuss over the departure of a servant?"
"And a black one," Mia adds.
Damn it, I can't speak further and just have to find out where the hell she is and who she's with.
"Greta, Greta!" I shout, searching the house for the woman who always has the answers.
"What’s the matter, young Cameron?" she asks, alarmed by my demeanor.
"Where is your daughter?"
"I don’t know," she says nervously.
In desperation, I punch the wall – "Where is she?" I ask again.
"Young man, I don’t know. She packed up, said she was leaving, that she’d be fine. She’s a woman who knows what she wants; I wouldn’t stop her," she speaks to me earnestly.
The devil take me, where is she? I turn to leave, knowing Greta won't tell me anything; it’s her daughter, after all.
"Cameron," she calls out, "leave my daughter alone, you’ve done enough harm, you've made her your personal toy. My daughter may not have money, but she has feelings, just like you and your family. Please, don’t look for her; forget about my girl so she can do the same."
"Pain, feelings, what are you talking about?" I approach her, my tone belligerent.
"You're a brute who can’t see what my daughter feels for you,” she leaves me standing there, a bitter taste in my mouth.
Damn it, Jackeline's in love with me, and I don’t even know how to feel, happy, I'm not sure.
I admit my actions have not been right; my family would never allow my chocolate to be part of it, to be a couple. Maybe Mrs. Greta is right; it’s time to let her go, as my grandmother once told me, to live in the depths of my thoughts.
At the office, I’m preoccupied with thoughts of her as we have a meeting with a client, or rather, their representative.
"Good day, Cameron Dubois," I extend my hand, but the man just studies my face.
"A pleasure, Cameron, finally a chance to meet you," his words barely register as I’m distracted by more pressing concerns.
"Mr. Dubois, I’ll be candid: my client wants some changes to this design and wants it realized," the resemblance to my father’s work and the obviously aged paper catch my attention.
"The color?" I inquire, noting its absence.
"You decide; it’s for a distinguished lady, choose a suitable color for the design and the requested changes."
"Alright, give me two days, and I’ll have a clean presentation ready."
"You can send the presentation to the client’s email to review." Their requests are shrouded in mystery.
"No problem, I'll do just that, as the client wishes," I head straight to my father's office afterward.
"Dad," I toss the sketch onto his desk.
"What’s this?" He opens the portfolio, and immediately his face loses color, turning ghostly.
"Where did you get this?" He can’t stop looking at the design.
"A client brought it in just now," I explain the conversation and requests.
He seems deeply troubled, as if the design dug up memories, lost in thought.
I leave the office, eager to start on the project, but Greta's words trouble me.
At night, I go to the university, not to look for her, just to find out where and with whom she lives.
I see her leave with her usual friend and another guy, the same one from before. He opens the car door for her while her friend gets into the backseat. What confuses me is that he kisses the back of her hand before "my" chocolate gets in.
"Keep your cool, Cameron, follow her, don’t make a scene here."
The car starts and stops at a rather luxurious building. All three get out and enter. The anxiety is eating me up from the inside.
Shortly after, I see the guy leave alone. I exit my car before he can drive off, and grab him by the collar, pinning him against his fancy car; he's just another rich kid like me, seeking only her body.
"Who the hell are you?" I glare at him.
He grabs my wrist with strength and pushes it away.
"Cameron Dubois," he says as though he knows me.
"Who in the devil are you?"
"I'll tell you one thing; leave my girlfriend alone. I don’t want you anywhere near her," he declares her his girlfriend.
"Why the hell should I stay away from her?" I challenge.
"It matters a lot to me because I will value the woman you played with and failed to appreciate. I love her, and one day she'll be my wife; I want you far from her," he reveals. I’m left processing his words – I didn’t appreciate her, his wife.
In a fight or flight moment, he manages to get into his car and drive away.
Now I'm more desperate; I need to talk to her. Jackie is trying to forget me, and he's taking advantage of it.
Furious, I kick the car tire hard, frustrated with intense longing; the thought of her in someone else’s arms is maddening. I arrive at the mansion to find Elle there; I can’t stand her, don't want to see her. She follows me as I head to my room.
"Wait, love," she pleads, trailing behind me.
"Get out of my sight, Elle; I can't stand you, get lost."
I enter my room, slamming the door with full force, darn it, what spell has that woman cast on me? My mind is clouded; I want only her.
The impact left the door ajar.
"Cameron, why treat me this way? If you're angry, don’t take it out on me," her eyes quickly fill with tears, her crying irritation. It's another thing that separates her from Jackie, who doesn’t cry in corners. Although I've never cared for Jackie’s feelings, I've noticed certain things.
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