“The same as always,” she grins back. “It misses you. So do I.”
“I miss you too!” I reply, feeling a little guilty about how well I’m settling into my new life. And I resolve that this time, I’m not going to keep anything from her.
“Okay,” I continue, “now I know you’re gonna say this is way too soon, but … Well … I’m seeing someone. It’s still early days but I think it’s kind of serious. Or it could be, I hope?”
“Oh my God!” she replies, clapping her hands in excitement. “It’s not too soon. You deserve someone in your life! What’s his name?”
“He’s called Carson,” I say. “He’s a lawyer, but he works for a charity, mostly human rights cases, disadvantaged people, that sort of thing.”
“Woah,” she laughs. “So he’s kind as well as smart? He sounds too good to be true!”
“You know what?” I say, “He kind of is! But he’s so different from any other guy I’ve met. Remember how Will always had a problem with how I earned way more money than him? Well, this guy’s the total opposite … He’s loaded. And as well as being kind and smart, he’s totally gorgeous, too. It’s strange, Katy. I’m worried that I’m not good enough for him.”
“Oh stop worrying about it,” Katy replies. “You deserve happiness. And it sounds like this isn’t a problem for him so why should it be one for you?”
“You know what? You’re right,” I say, so glad to have Katy to talk to about all this. “I should just enjoy it, shouldn’t I? Everything’s going great for once …”
But even as I say it, I worry that somehow — something might go wrong …
§
I’m on a date with Carson. A real date. Just him and me.
And I can’t stop grinning like the cat that finally got the cream.
Tonight, I’ve taken no chances. I’m wearing a classic outfit: little black dress, heels, and I’m wearing vampish red lipstick, too.
Carson’s obviously on the same page. I realise that from the moment I set foot in the restaurant: he’s dressed in a beautifully tailored suit. This isn’t the cool vintage thing from the night we saw Circles — this is something seriously expensive, a dark midnight navy colour, the cut totally showing off the shape of his amazing body beneath.
And the place he’s chosen for this date too is just perfect: a beautiful, small, intimate French restaurant.
It’s like we’re both on our best behaviour, both wanting to impress the other, and from the off the air feels like it’s crackling with an electric intensity.
He stands up as I reach the table, he pulls out my chair for me, he keeps his eyes locked onto mine, he even orders for me when the waiter comes over.
I mean, normally I might find something like that a bit too forward, even kind of pushy, but tonight? I find I’m actually enjoying it.
As we wait for our food, I find I want to know all about him. I feel like there’s still so much beneath that cool exterior and tonight I’m determined to dig a little deeper. So I ask him to tell me a little more about his family.
He talks about his father’s side of the family, the law firm that goes back generations. Then his voice softens as he begins to talk about his mum.
“My mother was a good person, never dazzled by all the money, didn’t care about social climbing, cared about helping people,” he explains.
“Where is she now?” I ask, gently, knowing the answer is probably going to be something sad, and hoping I’m not stirring up too many unhappy memories.
“She died when I was just a boy,” he explains quietly. “My father remarried within a year. I don’t blame him. He was still a young man and he deserved to find love again, but the woman he chose? Well, my stepmother is pretty much the polar opposite of my mother. She only donates to charities to look good in the eyes of her friends and go to parties. I’m not interested in all that. I’m not ready to join the family firm just yet … And I’m not sure corporate law ever will be for me. I’m lucky not to have to worry about money, and so I want to use my position to be able to help people less fortunate than myself.”
I feel so proud to be here with him tonight.
He’s just so good. He’s intense and gentlemanly, and of course sexy, but on top of all that he’s actually a good person, too.
“I think that’s really admirable,” I say, honestly. “Not a lot of people would dedicate so much time to helping others, especially when they could be having fun spending their money. You’re a good person, Carson.”
He reaches across the table and takes my hand in his.
“Not all good, I hope,” he says.
And I’m about to ask what he means, when I feel his leg beneath the table, brushing against my own, and I know exactly what he means.
§
We’re standing outside, waiting to flag down a cab to go back to Carson’s apartment, when he suddenly turns to face me, his eyes burning.
“What is it?” I ask, smiling, feeling like I can probably guess.
“I just can’t wait,” he says, pulling me to him, his hands around my waist, hot and urgent. “I need you. Right here, right now.”
Before I even know what’s happening he’s grabbed my hand and pulled me down the dark little alley next to the restaurant.
“Are you sure this is okay?” I ask, my eyes darting out to the busy street, just a few feet away. “I mean, someone could see, couldn’t they?”
He answer not with words but with a kiss, pushing me back against the wall, hard, and I feel myself melt beneath him.
I can feel my heart pounding, too, as I realise just what we’re about to do, so close to that busy street. But Carson seems totally in control of this situation, kissing my neck and then biting it playfully eliciting a sharp little gasp from my lips, as he spreads my legs with his knee, my skirt pushing right up around my waist, his hand moving between my legs, his fingers massaging my wetness through my panties.
I’m trembling, melting in his arms, so ready for him, all my nerves aflame …
Carson’s totally ready too, unbuckling his pants, his cock springing free, hot and hard.
I spread my legs for him, shivering as he sharply tugs my knickers to one side, guiding himself inside me.
I moan, then catch myself, wondering if my voice is carrying out to the busy street. I shoot a nervous glance, at all those evening crowds bustling past, so happy, so completely unaware of what’s going on just a few feet away from them ...
He drives himself even deeper inside me, grabbing my wrists now and pressing them back above my head, pressing them hard against the cold wet brickwork, and with each fresh thrust of his hips, he brings me a little closer to the edge.
I moan, mashing my lips hungrily against his, both of us fucking so hard now, like animals.
I come quickly, with Carson buried deep inside me. My eyes close and a sharp gasp shivers past my lips, my body bucking as he plunders me, only needing a few more thrusts before he presses himself hard against me, his teeth nipping my neck as he comes, too, buried deep inside me like that.
As I’m pulling my skirt back down afterwards, I still can’t believe we just did that. I didn’t think Carson had such a wild side, but I realise I like it, and as we both head back out to the busy public street, we can’t keep the naughty smiles off our lips.
It’s a beautiful spring morning. The sunlight’s streaming in through my bedroom window, I’ve got a mug of delicious coffee, and I’m feeling really great about my life.
I think about how lucky I am: I’ve got friends, I’m finally writing and enjoying it, it’s so great to be spending time with my dad again, and most of all things are going really great with my boyfriend Carson.
There’s just one little problem.
Do the readers of Girl After Dark really want to read about my perfect monogamous relationship?
You see, all the comments have been from people who’ve enjoyed my ‘voyage of discovery’ — people who have found my explorations inspirational, and I
want to continue to inspire people.
And so, after some thought, I finally make the decision:
What’s wrong if I’m inspiring people, I think, if I just … ‘embellish the truth’ a little?
I figure that, now Carson thinks the blog’s over, he’s not going to read it anyway. So, I can just turn my writing skills from factual to … creative … right?
And as I flex my fingers and prepare to type up my next blog post, that’s exactly what I decide to do …
Get creative ...
§
Girl After Dark: Public Encounter
It’s the oldest cliche in the world. A girl sits in a bar, alone, and she hears this voice:
“Mind if I join you?”
And when she turns around, there’s this handsome stranger standing there in front of her.
How could she say no?
So that, dear readers, is how I find myself talking to this cute guy in a bar. I’d only come here for a drink on my own (something I’d never really tried before — maybe because I thought there’d be loads of sleazy guys).
But you know what? I actually feel pretty comfortable in the bar I’ve chosen: it’s dark so I don’t feel exposed, the music’s gentle and kind of sexy, the waiters are attentive but not too attentive, and it turns out I’m not the only woman here on my own, either.
And I’m kind of enjoying myself, about to finish my first Cosmopolitan, when before I know it, he’s there.
Asking to join me.
“I don’t know,” I say. “How do I know you’re a good guy?”
He laughs, his eyes glinting.
“Maybe I’m not.”
And before I know it, he’s asked me if I’d like to take a walk with him.
“It’s a beautiful night,” he says. “The stars are shining. We should take a walk in Central Park. Come on. Why not? It’ll be fun.”
I laugh, at first thinking he’s joking, but there’s something about the look in his eye that tells me he’s serious. Deadly serious.
And maybe it’s because of the cocktail, but for some reason I actually find myself nodding, even laughing and taking his hand as we stroll happily out of the bar and into the cold dark street outside.
Suddenly, the air feels charged with electricity. It’s as if we both know what’s about to happen next.
My stranger leads the way, taking me into the darkness park, just a block away, my heart pounding now as I realise just where this is leading ...
And sure enough, once we’re a little more secluded, he stops and turns to me, and then ...
And then?
We’re kissing.
I feel his hands I my hair, and I kiss him hard and passionately, pushing myself back against him, my whole body trembling from excitement at what I’m doing … what I’m about to do.
I’m a good girl, I think. I don’t do things like this.
But even as I think it, I can feel his hands on my ass now, pulling up my skirt. And I feel glad that I’m not wearing tights or panties as his fingers move between my legs.
“God, you’re so wet,” he murmurs between kisses.
And as I too begin to massage his crotch, I can tell that he’s just as into this as I am.
I’m tugging at his belt now, freeing him, and I gasp as he lifts me off the ground. I throw my arms around his neck, his hands on my ass, my legs gripping around his waist as he enters me, just like that, so fast and hard, filling me right up with his hot thick cock.
I’m moaning and gasping as he fucks me, driving himself deeper with each thrust.
And I cry out as I come, forgetting where I am for a moment.
Maybe it’s the fact that we’re actually doing this, in public, that turns me on so much. I can hear traffic and voices, and I know that at any moment someone could turn the corner, take a stroll a little way into the park, and see us: fucking in the darkness.
I’m still trembling as he comes too, his face in my neck, his hands on my ass, his hot cock pulsing inside me.
And afterwards, as we’re pulling our clothes back on, I realise with a naughty little smile that I don’t even know his name.
§
I’m out walking with Carson. Since he’s met me, he’s (begrudgingly) admitted that he kind of enjoys walking too. It’s a lovely crisp day and we’re just near Columbia, our hands clasped together, the sky above us a bright dazzling blue.
And to top it all off, I’m feeling good because I’ve just applied for an MFA at NYU in Creative Writing! I know it’s a total long shot but still, it feels exciting to at least have aimed for something as amazing as that.
Aim for the stars, right?
He’s actually talking to me about his work, too, telling me about a recent case.
“Well, of course,” he explains, “my client go back to Somalia. They would have murdered him. He was twenty-four hours away from being deported when our firm stepped in. I don’t like to think what would have happened if he’d got on that plane.”
I squeeze his hand, glad that he feels he can let me in on his work. Not for the first time, I feel a huge sense of pride in what he does, and I’m about to tell him that when, all of a sudden, I hear a familiar voice behind us in the street. “Melissa!”
I turn around.
I only have half a second to be excited that I’ve just bumped into my dad, before I realise that this also means he’s going to meet Carson for the first time.
“What a surprise,” he says, catching up with us. I watch his face carefully, as he reads our body language. He can tell that this isn’t just a friend. He sizes up Carson, suddenly a protective father looking out for his little girl. But he must see something that he likes, because his face quickly breaks out in a friendly smile. He even gives me The Look. You know, the one that means, ‘nice work, kiddo’. He’s hardly being discreet and I widen my eyes at him, willing him to play it cool.
“What are you doing up here?” he says.
I so don’t feel in the mood for this awkward conversation right now, so I try my best to shut it down.
“Oh, just going for a walk, getting some fresh air, daddy,” I say awkwardly. “Well, it would be great to stay and chat but I’m sure you’ve got to run off to your class now, right?”
“Actually no,” he smiles back. “I’m free for a couple of hours. I don’t have another class until the afternoon. So why don’t we all grab a coffee somewhere and you can introduce me to your new, um, friend here?”
I look at Carson, hoping he’ll say he can’t do it.
But instead, he smiles a winning smile and says, “That sounds great, Mr Lane. In fact, I know a really good place nearby actually!”
§
As I sip my coffee, which is amazing by the way, I marvel again at how totally normal this all turns out to be — not the weird, awkward thing I was imagining at all!
Carson is totally brilliant - charming, at ease, and asking loads of questions. When I think back, one of the things that annoyed me about Will was that he never seemed that interested in anyone other than himself. He never asked anyone a thing!
And Dad’s being really great, too. For a start, he isn’t being at all embarrassing for once, he isn’t calling me Honey Bee all the time, he hasn’t told any stories about when I was little, or even been overly proud of me. So far, he’s just talked about art and books — two subjects that he and Carson really seem to hit it off on.
And as Dad and Carson discuss how much they both love Fitzgerald — they both agree that Tender Is the Night is miles better than The Great Gatsby, which by the way, I totally disagree with— it’s just great to see them getting on so well.
Eventually though, Carson shoots us an apologetic smile. “I’d better go,” he explains sadly, clearly wishing he could stay for longer as he pushes himself up from his chair. “I’ve got a meeting.”
“Well, you should come over to ours for dinner sometime!” Dad ventures.
“That’d be great,” Carson smiles back. “I’d love to
.”
The two shake hands and once they’re done, I stand up just in time for him to give me a tender kiss on the cheek.
After he’s left, although I’m sad not to have had a proper kiss goodbye, I’m also eager to see what Dad thinks now it’s just the two of us.
“So?” I say. “What do you think? Does he pass the Father Test?”
“With flying colors,” he laughs.
“Thanks Dad,” I smile back.
§
From [email protected]
Dear Melissa,
I had a wonderful time with you the other day. I regret not being able to kiss you properly - I still want your lips.
I had a great time meeting your father. He’s a really good man, and I’d love to continue our conversation with Fitzgerald at some point soon.
And now, would you do me the honor of maybe meeting my family? It won’t be as fun and relaxed, I’m afraid. In fact, it might be the opposite - quite stuffy - but my stepmother Esme is hosting a charity auction and I would be honored if you would be my guest.
It’s black tie, so pretty formal, but I know clothes has never been a problem for you!
Carson
Seriously now … where is it?
I’ve turned this whole room upside down, but I can’t find my damn locket anywhere. I know I’ve got it somewhere, I just can’t think where. I try and trace back my steps to the last time I wore it, but it’s useless. My head’s too much of a worried, nervous jumble about tonight to think clearly anyway.
I’m just about ready to tear my hair out: the locket would go so well with this outfit. And on top of that, I just can’t bear the thought that it might be lost forever. After all, my mum gave it to me for my eighteenth birthday; my first ever piece of ‘grown up’ jewelry.
But I just can’t think where I wore it last — so I’m not even totally sure I brought it with me to New York, in fact.
Girl After Dark Page 17
