Copyright © 2021 Michele Steele
Pieces of My Pedestal
Pedestals | Book 1

Chapter 1

The horse auctions were thrilling. Watching the fastpaced world of big money betting millions of dollars on the horses transported me to a fantasy life. You just had to twitch and accidentally, you could be betting millions of dollars on a horse. I stayed completely still and transfixed. My mother and her friends worked at Saratoga Racetrack, and I made it a point of going there for a few months every summer.

It was an exciting getaway and an inexpensive, relaxing vacation. I had worked my way up to VP of Marketing for a Wall Street firm. Although it was an exciting job, I worked long hours and had no social life. What I most relished every summer was spending lazy days in the Saratoga museums and lazily shopping in the myriad of antique shops and crafts stores. These tiny stores carried the possibility of unearthing valuable hidden treasures. You simply had to rummage through. This quaint town of mountains and lakes was a much needed departure from the hectic pace of New York City.

The nightclub in town was rustic and the music was blaring. It was an old barn with wooden dance floor and knick knacks hanging from the walls. This casual nightclub was the liveliest spot in town and everyone congregated there. The band was loud but the crowd was usually louder. And then, there he was. . .

He looked like a magnificent model. He was tall with gorgeous blue eyes and dark brown hair. His slender body hid his strength. His smile stopped me in my tracks and had my whole body tingling. He sat down next to me and we talked for hours, our knees touching, as if we were the only people in the room.

The blaring music and screams of laughter from the crowd disappeared as we told each other our life’s stories. All I saw was him. There was a strange thirst to have this person really know me, really hear me. I hoped he felt the same way. I sensed he felt it also. “Your mother has mentioned you over the years,” he said. He was my mother’s boss and I should not allow this to go any further. My mother had had affairs with some of her co-workers and Lucas might even have been one of them. Mom was unstable, possessive and would fly off the deep end often. She could be dangerous and destructive.

I could not stop myself. I had never felt such a wonderful and fiery connection. He lured me in without even trying. We closed the bar and continued our talk outside. The cool breezes of the night made my body want his warmth wrapped around me. My body ached to touch him but I refrained. That night I went back to my hotel room—alone. Early the next morning, the phone rang. It was Lucas. My heart was fluttering. “I miss you already,” he whispered. “Please meet me for breakfast.” I dressed quickly and joined him in the hotel restaurant. His thick brown hair was still wet from his morning’s shower. He looked gorgeous in a dark navy sweatshirt and navy shorts. He had to dress formally on his work days and told me he liked being relaxed on his days off. Lucas started talking about his dreams and somehow, the world was just us again. Everyone in the restaurant seemed to have disappeared. “I wanted to be a senator when I was in college.” There was a twinkle in his eye as he continued talking. “I was captain of the debate club in college and devoured every article I could find on politics and current events. I studied the great leaders of the world. It made me feel alive.

I put in long hours going door to door and meeting the constituents when I worked on the Vice Presidents’ Election campaign. Talking to the people taught me about life. “The campaign chairman asked me to run the public relations for the campaign. I was thrown into the trenches and loved every minute of it. It was magic!” he said with a laugh. “I was thrilled when the chairman asked me to run for Congress in my district.” “I worked for campaigns, too!” I interrupted with a smile.

“I loved it and really became caught up in the excitement. It’s such a fascinating world. I wanted to be an attorney and work in politics,” I added. Then, his voice became quieter, almost sad and he whispered, “My wife did not want a public life at all. She felt that I would not be home to help raise our two children. I was not strong enough—or maybe not committed enough to fight her, so I walked away from politics.” I could feel the deep hurt for the years he lost in a loveless marriage and for the dreams he had been forced to set aside. He said he had finally separated from his wife six months ago. Their marriage had died years before, but he adored his kids and had not wanted to hurt them. His wife was a controlling, angry woman; he had not made as much money as she thought he would and she was bitter. She never wanted to live a mediocre life.

She made sure to degrade him every chance she could, in public and in the privacy of their home and bed. His children were finally in high school and he thought they might be old enough now to handle the separation. He believed I would understand since my parents divorced when I was fourteen. “My father had a business in Tokyo, and he had moved our family there when we were young,” I uttered. “Your mom told me about your father abandoning your family and moving his mistress into your house in Tokyo,” Lucas said. “She said he did it the day after he sent you back to the United States on a freighter.” “Lucas, I never blamed my dad for the divorce,” I remarked. “My mother never really loved him and they lived separate lives. My father was a charming, rich, jet-setter and all my mother cared about was living the high life. She was never there for the children, and she let our cook, Tomoko, and our chauffeurs raise us while she shopped.”

He seemed shocked by my comment that the cook and chauffeurs were our proxy parents. I am sure my mother must have told him a completely different story. She had always lived in a fantasy world and blamed everyone else for whatever went wrong in her life. I wanted him to understand that his children might forgive him for leaving, too.

Lucas only had thoughts of my hurt and showed so much empathy. “You not only had to live through your parents’ separation, but you came back to the US from Japan knowing no one, not even your grandparents. Is it true that your father stayed in Tokyo and never called you again or came back to see you?” he asked painfully. There was a hint of not believing anyone could do that in his voice. “Yes, that was really devastating,” I answered. “According to my mother, we are not in his life or in his will any longer. I lost the life that I knew. At the same time, we lost our mother, too. She stayed in her bedroom and ate cookies and yodels whenever she was home—which was not often. She didn’t even pretend to care for us.” Lucas had a tear in his eye as I relayed my story. It was clear he felt great sadness for me, the child that was abandoned and thrown away.

He moved over and hugged me tightly and rubbed my back. “You are such a kind and extraordinary man,” I whispered in his ear. “Your children are lucky to have such a loving father. You are not destroying their lives because you left; I can feel the impact you must have had on their lives already. The love and values you have instilled in them is so important, and I can tell you first hand that it never goes away,” I softly told him. He stared at me as he kept rubbing my back and holding me tight. His touch was sending sparks throughout my body. “Come,” he said. “Let’s continue this talk while we drive to the lake.” As we entered the luscious grounds by the lake, he pulled over and stopped the car. “Follow me,” he said breathlessly. “I want to show you my friend’s boat house.” We walked down the path in silence. He was much taller than me and walked quickly so I had a hard time keeping up. “Lucas, I want to see this beautiful garden. Would you mind walking a bit slower?”

The lush green hedges surrounded the house for total privacy with beautiful flowers of different vibrant colors lining the pathway. The gardens were formal and had been kept magnificently. Your eyes were drawn to the huge cascading water fountains placed strategically throughout the gardens highlighting the magnificent landscape. As we entered the oversized wooden door, he abruptly grabbed me. “You are incredibly beautiful,” Lucas moaned close to my ear. His gaze was bathed with the look of love and lust. “I can’t wait one more minute to touch you.

” His hands were moving slowly from my neck to my backside and up again. He looked down at me as if trying to see into my soul. His lips found mine and his tongue was imploring—hot and hard in my mouth. His kiss started an explosion of heat straight from my mouth to my sex. My entire body filled with arousal, responding to his kiss. I grabbed his hair and hungrily planted kisses all over this face moving around his ears and nipping his neck. He was groaning and found my mouth again and soon we were lost in the smell and feel of each other’s bodies. He oozed strength from every muscle. Our tongues were exploring deep within our being, exciting, arousing and trying desperately to fill the holes in both of our souls. His hand was cupping my breast, and I felt the tingle of his thumb rubbing my nipple over my blouse.

The friction heightened his touch, and I became lost, groaning with delight. Slowly, he lifted my blouse and raised it over my head—all the while staring into my eyes. He unfastened my bra and let it fall to the floor. His tongue was now circling my bust. . .round. . .round and round. He put my nipple into his mouth and pulled softly with his teeth. I moaned at the electricity running through me as his lips closed around me. He sucked long and hard. It had been many, many years since I felt. . .felt . . . I reached down for his zipper and released his throbbing erection. Oh my, he was glorious. I wrapped my legs and arms around him, holding him tight against me. He started to move and slowly found my opening and entered me. Over and over he plunged, climbing inside of me as far as he could. Hard pushes.

He was getting lost in the wet feeling of my welcoming vagina and possessively filling up my body with his beautiful manhood. I groaned and met him thrust for thrust. Hearing him panting and losing himself in me as my body took over propelled me to climb higher and higher with each thrust. “Cum with me,” he gasped. I was in ecstasy watching this sexy man want me—need me—as he released, loudly. His passion was my undoing and I lost myself in him, screaming his name as my body pulsed around him. He rolled off of me, and I could feel his body deflate. He became very sullen. After a few minutes, he put his two hands on either side of my face and lifted my eyes to his.

“My beautiful baby, please forgive me, I am sorry,” he said choking with tremendous regret. I was taken aback. What could he be sorry for after such magical lovemaking? “You are beautiful and wonderfully exciting, and I could not stop,” he said almost as if ashamed. “Your mother and I work together and she is my wife’s friend, too. You know she will cause horrible problems. “She will go after—my children—my life—my job! What are we going to do?” he muttered almost sobbing. “I did not realize I would have such strong feelings for you,” he moaned. “Perhaps I should take you back to your hotel now.” I was confused, angry, desperate for his touch and more desperate for his love.

I gathered up my clothes and yelled, “Yes, take me back to the hotel NOW.” My anger got the best of me and I spat, “You are really good at running away, aren’t you?” We drove to the hotel in silence. He tried to hold my hand as he walked me to the lobby and I pulled away. “Don’t you dare touch me! Don’t ever touch me.” I was spinning with doubt and confusion. He had just made love to me. I had thought he cared. My heart had hoped he would mend it. Instead he had taken a knife to it.