A few weeks had passed and I was in one of my mansions, watching the women dancing around me, but my mind was distant, reliving that fateful encounter with the luxury escort. As much as I tried, I couldn't shake those intrusive thoughts.
I wondered what could have happened to make her run off like that. Did I scare her? Or did something wrong happen? I couldn't be that bad at sex, obviously not. If she wasn't enjoying it, she wouldn't be moaning so much, and her body wouldn't be reacting so well to mine. The lack of an answer only fueled my curiosity and unease.
As the colorful lights flickered and the music pulsed in the background, I found myself lost in my own reflections, trying to unravel the mystery surrounding that enigmatic woman. In recent days, I had Said investigate everything about her, hoping to find some clue that could lead me to her.
Every minute without an answer consumed me, fueling the anxiety that grew within me. I spent weeks dedicated to this search, scouring every corner of the city, every clue that surfaced, hoping to find her again. But so far, all had been in vain.
My curiosity grew even more when I called the same person I had scheduled the appointment with, thinking it was her, but the girl gave me surprising information: on that day, she couldn't make it, as there was an unforeseen event and she couldn't be present. She said she called a lot to let me know, but I didn't answer, and my cell phone was actually on silent. If it wasn't her, then who was that woman?
I stared incessantly at my cell phone screen, waiting for a call or message from Said that never came. I felt a mixture of frustration and helplessness. As much as I tried, I couldn't shake the feeling that she had disappeared like a ghost, leaving only unanswered questions in her wake.
The search for that woman became an obsession, consuming my thoughts and energy with each passing day. I knew I needed to find answers, but uncertainty hung over me like a constant shadow, reminding me that some things are beyond our control, no matter how powerful we think we are.
And it wasn't just curiosity. I was obsessed with her, with the sweet smell, the taste of her kisses, her soft body. Every day I was going crazy.
I wish I could have gone after her that day. But I was naked, and I didn't. Now, I deeply regret it. If I knew I would be in this state, I would have gone after her anyway.
I closed my eyes, trying to push away the thoughts that tormented me, but in doing so, I was transported back to that hot and pleasurable moment. Her taste still seemed to be in my mouth, a vivid memory that haunted me incessantly.
I relived the feeling of her lips against mine, the warmth of her skin, the intensity with which our bodies met. All of this now seemed like a distant dream, but at the same time, more real than anything around me.
As I tried to focus on the dancers in front of me, her image wouldn't leave my mind. It was as if it were etched into my memory, a call that refused to be erased.
Said entered the room and, with a gesture, I dismissed all the women. I watched each one leave as the light was turned on. Said walked up to me with his head down and, by the look on his face, I knew he had failed once again in his damn searches.
"Sorry, sir, I don't..."
"Shut up," I ordered, looking at him. "This only shows your incompetence. Almost a month, and you still haven't found that woman? Want to drive me crazier than I already am?" I looked, showing my frustration.
"Forgive me, sir."
"It's all you know how to say, isn't it? Get out of here." I ordered, but before he left, I stopped him. "Call Louis and have him send a cleaning crew from the hotel to clean the mansion."
"What if none of the hotels are available, sir? As happened last week?"
"Call another hotel, the one in Malibu and ask for a specialized team. Figure it out. Is it possible that you are incompetent even in this?"
"All right, sir. Excuse me." He left.
As Said left the room, I sank further into the armchair, running a hand over my face in a gesture of frustration. The thought that almost a month had passed with no progress in the search for that woman infuriated me. The music and the dancing of the women around me had only been temporary distractions, but now, alone, reality was coming back to haunt me.
The cell phone on the table remained silent, the screen dark and inactive, a constant reminder of the lack of answers. That fleeting encounter had become an obsession, something I needed to resolve somehow.
I turned my chair to face the bookshelf and pressed the secret button. I watched as the hidden door, disguised as a bookcase, slowly opened, revealing all the pictures I had painted of the face of that woman who drove me crazy. I've never been good at drawing, except when I'm truly inspired. And on the day I made those drawings, I was more inspired than ever.
Each painting, the result of an uncontrollable obsession, captured different nuances of her expression, different moments from that night that now seemed like a mirage. I knew I needed these pictures to keep my sanity, to have something to hold on to while the search continued.
I walked over to one of the pictures, running my fingers along the edge of the frame. Her eyes, which I had painted with such care, seemed to be watching me, as if challenging me to find her. I looked around, admiring every detail I could remember and transfer to the canvas.
This place was my refuge, a sanctuary of memories and hopes. This was where I came when the weight of frustration became unbearable, when I needed a tangible reminder that she was real, that that night wasn't just a dream.
"I will find you, my obsession," I whispered, still running my fingers over the drawing.
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