Preying on You by Elise Holden

 
    A ttraction. Enticement. Temptation. Possession. Deception.
Betrayal.
    Each, a powerful force when wielded by
someone knowledgeable in the art. The thrill of the hunt, too
alluring to ignore. The pain of remorse and treachery too severe. I
have known each of these in my life. Spent years trying to perfect
some, while fleeing from others and their destructive
path.
    These thoughts are what consume me
each night as I dip my head in greeting to Calvin, the doorman of
my high-rise building. Like ghosts that haunt my steps, the
memories are ever with me. Longings and regrets. Desires paired
with a damning Judas kiss. A need to forget and embrace what could
be, yet held back by the fear of letting the pain of past mistakes
snare me a second time.
    Entering the foyer, a draft of cold
slips beneath my over-the-knee skirt. I veer toward the elevators,
and a heightened sense of excitement deepens my flush. I unbutton
the top three buttons of my winter coat with the pretense of being
too warm and check to make sure the cut of my shirt is low enough
in the polished doors before me. I glance toward my reflection and
note that the wind has not unsettled any of my chestnut strands
from under my hat.
    I prefer a classic beauty, natural and
sophisticated. Pursing my glossed lips, I tweak my cheeks to revive
my coloring. My skin is pale, especially in the wintertime. My legs
look long and sleek beneath my tapered skirt. Smoky eye shadow
makes my hazel eyes pop. I lean back as I notice movement just over
my shoulder in the closed doors.
    I do not have to turn to
sense him behind
me. The man who has set my perfectly constructed world into a full
tilt collision of the heart.
    This mystery man makes me feel like a
schoolgirl with an insatiable crush. He inspires me to write, to
express my unspoken yearnings onto a virtual page, but my
frustrations mount just as quickly as my yearnings. Perhaps my
yet-t0-be named elevator companion has hidden chapters in his own
life that hold him back as well.
    He has made a habit of being at the
elevators the same time every evening. So, naturally, I have done
the same.
    “ Going up?”
    I smile and nod. We both know how this
particular game is played. He is a perfect gentlemen, and I allow
him to be.
    Clear, wide, expressive eyes, blue as
the Caribbean Sea. That is my new favorite color, thanks to this
gorgeous man, who insists on claiming my every waking thought. I
have yet to learn a single tangible fact about him, but I suspect
he is new to the building. Most likely moved in while I was away on
business. A common occurrence in my line of work.
    I noticed him the first day I
returned. How could I not?
    His smile makes small laugh lines
appear around his eyes, baring evidence to an enjoyment for life.
He is a gentleman from what I can tell. Always holds the door for
me to enter first. His brief banter on the journey to the upper
floors is always polite and tinged with genuine interest. Although
we have not spoken of anything personal yet, he always leans in
when I speak so he can hear every word. The way he looks at me is
addicting, even in an elevator filled with people. They all melt
away with a simple glance in my direction.
    He is not coy. Doesn’t try to disguise
his curiosity. Rather he openly admires me. It is this intense
consideration that drives me wild, yet leaves me unsettled. His
gaze tells me I’m the most intriguing person in the world to him.
It sets me all a fluster, and I rediscover a painfully shy girl
living within. The one who knows guys like him can be dangerous for
the heart and yet utterly amazing at the same time.
    The elevator dings and he waits for me
to step inside. He does not have to ask which floor is mine. He
remembers.
    “ It was a blustery one
today.” His voice is warm and invigorating, as is his
cologne.
    I nod in agreement. One of
the penalties of living in the city is the vicious winds that cut
down the streets and straight through every layer of clothing that
I