The Sandstone Affair (An Erotic Romance Novel) by Priscilla West

doorman or catch me
coming out of the parking garage, I actually run to the car. It isn’t until I’m
on the highway that I catch my breath and realize I just made a scene for no
reason other than my total fear of being vulnerable in front of Mark. After all
we have been through–the job, the arrest, the love, the sex–I have displayed
every possible emotion in front of that man and still I ran from him. I just
had to be the “strong one.” “Daddy’s strong girl,” I say out loud, stuck
behind a bread truck in a traffic jam. I hate being stuck in this car with
nothing but my thoughts. I’m losing Dad. I feel it, and I don’t know what to do
about it. It’s never been a secret I was a “Daddy’s girl” and I have always
been closer to him than mom. Dad’s so accepting, laid-back, and sure. He always
had a plan and knew what to say. Mom was the uptight one. Everything had to be
perfect, pristine and correct for her. She had everything she loved in life,
but there was always that edge of unhappiness or emptiness in her. I never knew
why, really. She kept everything to herself. Somehow, I always loved being with
Dad, and yet, I realize now–I ended up so much like my mom. I remember swimming
lessons. No matter how well I did, or how fast I went, Mom would always suggest
I try harder, do better, or beat my last time. Dad would always say “I’m proud
of you, honey” and let it go at that. My dad, always so proud of me–his strong
little girl–and what am I doing while he is slipping away? I’m having sex in a
pool while my life’s work crumbles around me and falls into the hands of none
other than Valerie James. I don’t know how he would feel about the whole sex
thing. Even when I was engaged to Greg and we were living together, my dad
pretended I was still a virgin. But I know what he would say if I told him
about Valerie James ending up with Lynx and everything I worked so hard to
achieve. “You started it,” he would say, shaking his
head. He says it every time my rivalry with Valerie is the topic of
conversation. “You started the fight with her, honey, and one of these days she
might just finish it.” Slowly the cars in front of me begin to lurch
forward. It’s not fast enough for me to make much progress or even need to pay
attention to the road, but as we say in New York–at least we’re moving. Oh,
Daddy. I think you might be right this time. I think she is going to finish it,
and finish me in the process. I met Valerie my senior year in college. I was
a lead editor on the paper, and won a number of awards for investigative
reporting and writing in college competitions. Dr. Louden, my advisor, said the
journalism staff voted me “most likely to win a Pulitzer.” Then he told me the
worst thing he could have ever said. “You’re the most talented journalist we’ve had
here since Valerie James, and a close second to her too!” Close second? Close second? I wasn’t going to
be second to anyone. Of course, it didn’t help that a few months later Valerie
was invited to be a guest lecturer for one of our classes. She was the youngest
assistant editor at Ladies World and was supposed to be giving us tips on what
journalism was like in the “real world.” “It’s important to remember when you get out
into reality that in college you write what you want to write, out there you
must write what the reader wants to read,” she said. Everyone in class could
only see her success. I saw challenge. “Wouldn’t you call that ‘catering to the
masses’?” I asked pointedly. “I would call it good business, Miss… um…” “Sharp, Julia Sharp, Miss James. You might
have read my work, I won the Hearst Journalism Award for Investigative
Reporting this year with an exposé on school charter programs.” “Nope, can’t say I’ve seen it,” Valerie
responded blithely. “But I’m a professional editor now, not a student, so I
read what I get paid to read.” The class chuckled politely