10 | My Kind of Woman

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*tw: slight mention of abuse/assault

V E R A

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The rest of the day had gone by way too slow for my liking.

In an attempt to speed up the time, I started to organize my desk and anything that had been out of place. Based on the fact that I hadn't gotten any sleep last night, I was starting to feel myself go downhill. My body started to ache and I could barely stand for more than five minutes without feeling the need to sit back down.

Or maybe, Vera, it was the fact that you had just gotten your mouth fucked and your insides rearranged a few hours ago.

Sudden flashbacks of a certain man filled with my head. Sitting in awe, I still hadn't come to terms with the fact that Damien had just taken me in the middle of his office, on a work day when the museum was almost at full capacity.

Snapping me out of my thoughts, a knock sounded at my door, causing me to look up.

"Ready to leave? You promised me dinner, baby." Cordelia joked.

Ah, fuck. I completely forget that I had promised the woman standing at my door a night full of catching up with each other. Not the kind of person to fall through on my promises, I nodded and gave her a smile.

"Let's get out of here." I said, standing up from my desk and grabbing my bag.

As I walked towards the door, I had to force myself to remain balanced as my thighs were on fire due to recent events.

"Are you okay, my love?" Cordelia asked, giving me a funny look.

"I-I'm fine—just all of this sitting down has gotten to me." I explained, knowing well off that that wasn't the case.

A hint of both curiosity and confusion was still present in her face.

Shrugging her off in an attempt to act normal, we walked out of my office and headed down the steps of the museum. Stepping into a cab and driving further away, I looked back at the building and thought of the man that had begun to show me everything I was looking for.

Showing herself around my little chateau, Cordelia sat on the floor next to the stack of books I had yet to look through.

"You read?" She asked, picking up one of the books and dusting the cover.

"I do but those aren't mine. They were left by the previous owner," I said, grabbing two bowls from one of the pantries. "What are they about?"

"There's some brilliant classics in here," She exclaimed, tracing her fingers over the spines of each book. "Bronte, Austen, Wilde." She named off a few authors.

"Oh," She let out, pulling out one of the books at the bottom of the stack and walking over to me. "They've even got some of Freud's philosophies. Here—listen."

Grabbing the pot off of the stove, I turned around to face Cordelia and started pouring the pasta I had made into each of the bowls as she started to read.

"Freud's take on the pyschosexual stage—puberty, is based on the sexual cravings that are awakened and are aimed towards partners of the opposite sex, with genitals as the primary source of pleasure. Those who completed the earlier stages successfully become well-adjusted, caring and secure individuals." She recited word for word, looking up at me.

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