What Can You Not Buy With Money?

“Ah, Ms. Hall,” Burgess’ butler opened the door and bowed his head as he smiled calmly. “Master Burgess is in the gym. Please, follow me.”

That morning, Burgess had called me before I went to work. “I’ll have a limo pick you up. I need to see you at my house,” was all he said before he abruptly hung up. He sounded uptight, his vocal cords practically stretched out like rubber bands on the phone.

Burgess had a basement. A very finished and clean basement. In fact, the underground level was like a new haven of curious rooms and hallways that spread out as far as the eye could see. I felt like I was in a public building, everything was so white and brightly lit it didn’t seem like a house at all.

“Here, Ms. Hall,” The butler held the door open for me to enter, and I walked into a room where the walls and ceiling were made of mirrors. It seemed almost endless, the reflections of the surroundings giving the illusion of infinite space. Now that I think about it, having every inch of a room surrounded by mirrors wasn’t exactly the most humble of ideas but it gave enough of the effect to steal my face’s awed expression.

Burgess was on a treadmill, and I’d like to mention that he had seven in an even row. Why a man who lived by himself would have that many is beyond my understanding. The only thing I could think to make anything practical on it was his housekeepers used them. That probably makes sense, he always liked his maids to be beautiful and well fit. Anyways, I’m getting off topic—Burgess was sprinting on the treadmill with ease, wearing only a pair of expensive sweat pants; his running shoes lightly thumping the machine as sweat poured down his well defined muscles like a creek. Yes, it sounds gross—but my face was growing red at the sight of his work out.

I always wondered how he managed to obtain that physique of his, and by looking at all the equipment in the gymnasium, my wondering had come to an end.

Burgess was watching a wide screen television propped in front of the tread mills, his attention drawn to his rhythmic movements and the film.

I silently walked up next to him, looking at the TV screen then flashing an occasional look at him. After ten minutes of being ignored, Burgess finally slowed down to mid jog as the treadmill automatically shut down.

Breathing heavily, Burgess got off the machine and went to a shelf of soft white towels, grabbing one and wiping his body free of the sweat. Again my face went aflame, and I tried to free my mind of the unpleasant lust that was fogging my vision with its delicious sin.

Impatient, I tailed him like a puppy dog, and I finally yipped, “Ben, what was it you wanted to talk about?”

Burgess froze, his jaw clenched and his eyes tightened with anger and frustration. “Where were you last night?”

I raised an eyebrow, feeling a rush of adrenaline as I went defensive. “I went to an Open Mic Night with Walker and Lucy after work. Why?”

“Was Lucy there all the time? Or did you and Walker have any moment alone?” Burgess snapped his head at me, suspicion exploding like a starving lion.

“I was with her all night—we even went home together. Why?” My voice raised as I took a step back and held my hands up as though to protect myself.

Burgess swallowed and opened his mouth, struggling to tell me—yet he shook his head. “Nothing. Just… me being paranoid, I guess.” Already he seemed to have calmed down, but the muscles in his neck still twitched and his face was contorted in stress.

“Of what?”

Burgess looked at me from the corner of my eye. “I think you're having an affair with Charles.”

My jaw dropped and I pushed him, infuriated at him. “You’d think I’d do that?” I felt like my spirit was on fire, and shoved into him as hard as I could. Burgess stepped back from the force of my body, an eyebrow raised as he was mildly surprised at my outburst. “How could you even think that?” Feeling bipolar, I was suddenly getting rained with hurt—I was sore all over for him not trusting me. Or maybe it was because I was trying to distract myself from his very attractive body.

Burgess shrugged, grasping my wrists in his hands as he pulled me close. “Someone called me last night… and graphically describing you doing… things.”

“Who?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Burgess scoffed. “What matters is it’s not true. Right?” He bared his teeth as he waited for my answer.

“Of course it’s not true. You’re the first real relationship I’ve ever been in.”

“That’s good to know.” A wave of relief wiped Burgess’ face free of any worry and his mood had instantly become lighter. "I just needed to hear it from you."

I refused to act happy at his sudden suave words, so I turned and walked away. “It’s time for work.”

“Mary,” Burgess called out to me but I ignored him. “Mary.” His tone had gone from relief to commanding.

“What?” I glared at him, hoping he’d taste some venom in my eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Burgess walked up and took my hand, squeezing it and bringing it up to his face, my hand high up in the air. “How can I make it up to you. Dinner? A trip?”

“You’re not buying me off, Burgess,” I retorted and pulled my hand away. “I’m going to stay mad at you.”

“That won’t do,” Burgess smiled darkly and began to run his finger along my cheek. I shivered, and mentally cursed myself at how weak I was by a simple touch—yet I refused to accept defeat.

“Yes, it will. You keep thinking I’m going to just betray you like that—it says a lot about what you think of me. I have every right to be pissed, and I want to be right now.” I bit my lip, feeling like the biggest bitch that ever lived. But I had every right to be. It was my turn to be the angry and obnoxious partner.

“Well, then how can I make it up to you?” Burgess was practically on his knees, figuratively speaking. He still stood tall and proud, but just offering his apology was a surprise.

Taking a deep breath, I sighed and smiled warily. Suddenly I felt wired—excited. Maybe being angry is an aphrodisiac or something. “I can think of something,” I raised my eyebrows suggestively as I playfully pulled at the string on his pants.

Smiling back, Burgess leaned forward to claim my lips. As he proceeded to massage my mouth, my mind drifted to and fro. When his hands lowered to the small of my back, my brain suddenly snapped.

My period was running late.