Hooked

by Gina Messina

  “Nice, really mature,” she muttered. “You better pop a breath mint so dad doesn’t smell a brewery when you kiss him.” Stacey shrugged her off then stretched herself out on the backseat of the car and immediately passed out.

  Moments later, they set off speeding through the streets of Los Angeles toward the desert with the ragtop down and the music cranked up, Carrie’s long dark hair flying in the wind. Charlie sat next to her sister, clutching her carry-on bag tightly to her chest. She spent the next two hours anticipating the successful acquisition of the perfect outfit to complement her new Louboutin’s and completely ignored Carrie who was busy yakking away about school, boyfriends, the upcoming holiday or some other topic Charlie could care less about. All she heard was the sound of her parent’s credit card being swiped through the machines of the many designer boutiques in Palm Springs and the rush of excitement ringing in her ears when she imagined slipping on her new shoes. David’s shoes. Suddenly, her skin tingled with the feel of his hands on her ass. She heard his whispered murmurs in her ear and the scent of his manhood filled the inside of the car, despite the top being down.

  Their parents were sitting in the living room enjoying a drink, even though it was only one o’clock in the afternoon. Apparently they passed along the drinking gene to Stacey. No need for a breath mint. They all smelled like a brewery.

  After hugs and kisses, their mother showed them each to their rooms. Charlie’s was decorated in serene muted tones of gray and blue and had a large French door that led to a rear patio where she could see a swimming pool. It looked inviting in the scorching desert heat.

  As soon as her mother left, she stripped down, letting her clothes fall in a heap on the bathroom floor and headed toward the French door, stopping to grab a towel and a joint she’d hidden in an empty tube of Lanvin lipstick. Once outside, she lit up then eased her naked body into the warm water. Sitting on the mosaic tiled step, she took a long toke and inhaled the sweet smoke deep into her lungs.

  Within minutes, an ominous feeling of panic overcame her and she gripped the smooth coping of the pool to steady her body. She closed her eyes and thought about her new shoes and David and it brought her a sense of calm and … excitement … anticipation.

  Suddenly Charlie’s right hand found its way down her wet body, her fingers tracing the contour of her breasts and her nipples became hard from the sensation of her touch. Her fingers circled the taut muscles of her stomach then made their way between her legs, almost as if they had a mind of their own. She slowly spread the soft folds of her pussy. Her body squirmed involuntarily as the intense feeling of pleasure mounted inside her. There was a rush of urgency when she began to pleasure herself. Charlie sought relief, but she wasn’t sure from what. When it did come, it was swift and anti-climactic, as her fingers plunged deeper into her body in an urgent quest for the spot that would allow her to escape. Her other hand found her lips, stifling her moans, her teeth breaking skin just as she was about to reach the pinnacle of ecstasy. Her body shuttered against itself, throbbing and spent, limp from an explosive release of energy.

  As she recovered, her mind wandered back to David and she couldn’t understand why she felt so doomed. Weren't the shoes supposed to fix everything?

  Charlie was halfway through the vacation but still hadn’t found the perfect outfit to wear with her new Louboutin’s. She visited every store in downtown Palm Springs but came up empty handed each day. Although it was beyond frustrating, she knew it would take time and patience. As much patience as it had taken to land those Loubies in the first place.

  But then she found it. At last! A sexy little backless dress that was so tight and hot, it should’ve been outlawed in all fifty-two states! And she knew just when she would wear it too. On New Year’s Eve! She had plans to go out with her sisters to the local nightclub and that dress was going to be perfect—the bait to catch her some man fish. She had no doubt that they’d have a great time, since when the girls partied together (especially Stacey), there was always a story to tell; and this sexy little number was going to tell a very naughty, X-rated tale if she played her cards right!

  That night, after a late dinner at Livreri’s Italian restaurant, where they ate mediocre pasta and second-rate veal Milanese, they headed over to Zelda’s, the newest dance club on the Boulevard. They started the night off in rare form.

  Stacey was the first one to push her way through the crowd to the center of the bar. Carrie and Charlie followed. Charlie was especially careful to watch where she walked, making sure that no drunken man wearing high top sneakers—or worse, boat shoes!—stepped on her precious baby stilettos. It didn’t take very long for the hot-looking bartender to notice them. He had the body of a Greek god and the longest eyelashes she’d ever seen. She could tell he hadn’t been hired for his drink making skills, but rather as eye candy for every leather-faced cougar with diamond rocks on their fingers and plenty of cash to throw around.

  “What can I get you ladies,” he murmured, leaning across the bar. His eyes darted down Stacey’s low-cut blouse.

  “Surprise me,” Stacey cooed, licking her lips lightly with her tongue. The three of them stood there admiring his ass when he turned his back and reached for the top shelf vodka. Charlie got up on her tippy toes and leaned over the bar, straining her neck to get a better look at his feet. Too bad he has no taste in footwear, she thought. She decided to leave him to Stacey who was already checking her bag for a spare condom.

  Mr. Adonis came back with three shot glasses filled with vodka. They threw back the shots with lemon drop chasers while Stacey’s boy-toy grinned and waited.

  Stacey batted her own long eyelashes, which were really false strips glued on top of her nubby ones, then barked out, “Keep them coming.” Charlie heard the authority in her voice and knew she’d made up her mind to fuck him that night.

  “Sure thing,” he said back with just as much confidence, lining up another three glasses on the bar and knowing that it wouldn’t be long before he could make a move on her.

  After her third shot, Charlie felt tipsy and was suddenly on sensory overload. The place was flooded with beautiful people. Alarmingly thin women that were scantily clad with too short dresses and deep plunging necklines. It was hard to tell where the necklines and hems began and ended. Sky high heels of every shape and color, circled the dance floor like tiny moths to a flame while model-like men hungrily eyed them.

  Charlie smiled with deep satisfaction. Not only was she in her element, but she was also in the sexiest dress she’d ever worn in her life and wearing the most amazing pair of heels! All I need now is someone worthy of having me, she figured before scoping out the most appealing shoes on the handsomest man she could find. It didn’t take her long to spot him, a tall blonde, Slavic looking guy with deep green eyes, wearing a wrinkled white linen shirt and perfectly faded blue jeans. On his rather large feet, he had on Gucci loafers in a pale baby blue suede with signature silver horse bit buckles. She did another brief scan, just to make sure she didn’t spot anything better (a girl had to consider all of her options) then cruised right over to him.

  “Does Elvis know you raided his closet?” she asked in as serious a tone as she could muster up.

  When he laughed and let his eyes rest on her obscenely short dress, she knew right away, the way a woman knows when she’s about to get her period, that they were going to have steamy, hot sex that very night. Stacey wasn't going to be the only one fumbling around in her bag for a condom!

  “Why don't me and my shoes take you out to dance,” he suggested, already grabbing her hand and pulling her to the center of the dance floor. She liked that he was a take-charge kind of guy and couldn't help but wonder what else he liked to take charge of.

  When they got to the dance floor, he stopped and faced her, putting his hands on her waist and slowly sliding them down to her ass, then pulled her in so close, she could nearly feel his manhood. They began dirty dancing. He turned her around and grinded up against he
r, pressing against her breasts, stomach and thighs. Charlie felt alive and let her hands do their own exploration, feeling each part of his firm, tight body. They spent what seemed like hours touching one another as if they were already intimately familiar with each other’s bodies. Finally, he stopped. She stood waiting for his direction like a puppy waiting anxiously for its master to tell it what to do, then looked at her watch and saw it was nearing midnight.

  “Come with me,” he spoke into her ear, just when everyone else was getting ready to ring in the New Year. Prince’s voice started to pump out of the speakers and suddenly everyone was out on the dance floor. Charlie started to sing to the music, which made her want to party even harder. She looked up and briefly scanned the crowd and could just about make out Stacey from across the room, tucked away on a corner settee. Her skirt was hiked up and her legs were wrapped firmly around the waist of the bartender. Charlie did a second scan trying to spot Carrie, but couldn’t find her in the sea of people. She was sure she was fine, though. Conscientious Carrie, no doubt, was probably making sure they had a ride home.

  Before she could say anything, he grabbed her by the hand and led her through the crowded bar to the back of the club. When they reached the end of the dark hallway, he pulled her into the ladies’ room and then into a stall, latching the door behind them. She watched as he dug into his front pant pocket and pulled out a small glass vial with a tiny silver spoon attached to the cap by a short silver chain.

  “Want some blow?” he asked with a mischievous look, holding a heaping spoon of white powder up to her nose.

  “Sure,” she said, trying to sound casual while eagerly eyeing the tiny glass vial.

  Charlie took a quick snort, feeling the instant rush of adrenaline as it numbingly took over her mind. It was the best shit she’d ever had. For a mind blowing moment, she felt as if she’d reached nirvana. She shut her eyes and nodded her head, which he apparently took to mean that she wanted something more than just coke.

  He pushed her around so her face was pressed against the bathroom stall and reached under her short black dress to pull down her lacy thong. When Charlie opened her eyes and looked down, she could see her legs were spread and her shoes were shimmering brightly against the contrast of the filthy laminate floors. She didn’t care that the paint was chipped and that her cheek was firmly pressed against a cold metal wall. All she could feel was him rock hard against her tight ass. She wasn’t sure if it was the coke or just his well-endowed genes, but he felt huge and she was more than ready for anything. For him.

  In a drugged ecstasy, she closed her eyes again while his fingers probed her freshly waxed pussy. Two fingers. Three fingers. She felt her body stretch and welcome the intrusion, all the while resisting the temptation to beg for more. Deeper, harder, she wanted to yell, when his thumb brushed against her clit. He rubbed it gently, at least at first, and then harder, letting his pinky slip into her last remaining place of discovery.

  “You’re so fucking hot,” he moaned.

  Charlie could barely hear him over the beat of the too loud house music. When he lifted her dress and she felt the tip of his penis pulsating against her ass, she arched her back—a silent invitation for him to take her right there in the dirty bathroom stall of Zelda’s.

  He had felt so big when he pressed against her, but he felt twice as large when he entered her. She drew back for just a second. Charlie remembered how badly it had hurt in the beginning, but in a good way. She began to rhythmically move with his thrusting body and with the music. Between his fingers and his balls hammering against her ass, she knew that the New Year was going to be orgasmic.

  “Oh Jesus!” he cried out as he began to pound faster.

  Just when she was beginning to soar even higher, she opened her eyes, just a little, and saw the word slut scratched into the grey stall door. She leaned her forehead against the cold painted metal and squinted down at his baby blue Gucci loafers. Under the harsh florescent light of the bathroom, she realized his shoes were really bad knock-offs. Charlie felt duped.

  In the next stall, she heard giggles and groans of disgust, but she didn’t care. She just wanted more. More cocaine and more sex. More of everything. If only to forget that her beautiful new Louboutin’s had just gotten fucked by a poor Gucci imitation.

  It wasn’t until she got back to the house and the sun was rising over the mountains, that she realized they’d never even exchanged names. It was probably for the best though because every time she thought about him now, with his cheap knock-off shoes, she still felt sick to her stomach.

  Stacey happened to be padding down the hallway with a mug of coffee in her hand just as Charlie was sneaking into her bedroom. Her mascara was smudged and she was carrying her precious Loubies in one of her hands. Her dress had a small tear on the shoulder and she was holding it up with her other hand.

  “Slut,” Stacey hissed under her breath when they passed each other in the hall.

  “Whore,” Charlie shot back, then slammed the bedroom door and flung herself onto the bed. She only had about an hour to sleep because she had to be at the airport in Los Angeles by noon. Her college started the new semester earlier than her sisters. She was glad to be leaving, though. Two weeks was just about all she could take of her family and especially of Stacey.

  She didn’t even say goodbye to them. Her father, who was an early riser, drove her to the airport. When they hugged goodbye at the gate he draped his arm protectively around her shoulder and handed her a thick wad of crisp hundred dollar bills. By the weight of the bills, she calculated it to be at least a thousand dollars and was already day dreaming about two pairs of black suede boots she’d bookmarked online. One was a Stuart Weitzman with a zipper up the back and the other a sexy Prada wedge that went half way up the thigh.

  “Make smart choices, Charlie,” he said into her ear while giving her another big comforting hug. She knew damn well he wasn’t referring to which boot she should buy, but dismissed the thought and shoved the money into the back pocket of her True Religion jeans which happened to be the biggest thing in denim that year.

  “I don’t understand where this is leading, Charlie,” Dr. Harrison interrupted with a look of confusion and a furrowed brow. “Nowhere do you mention Sean in your story.”

  Charlie flared her nostrils and wondered if her doctor was cut out for her profession. She had no tolerance to take notes or to listen. Charlie never heard of a psychiatrist that asked for her patient to get right to the point.

  “Relax, I'm getting to it,” she barked back. “Haven't you ever heard of a lead-in?”

  “I’m perfectly calm, Charlie. You’re the one who seems to be riled up,” she replied with a condescending look on her face.

  “Right before we were supposed to land, the Captain broadcasted severe weather on the ground. There was a heavy Nor’easter that had dumped over eight inches of snow on the tarmac, so we circled for what seemed like forever, waiting for the runway to be plowed and de-iced. After about an hour, we were low on fuel and rerouted to Newark airport where the weather conditions weren’t much better. Eventually we had to land at Philadelphia International, which turned out to be a real pain in the ass.”

  “Just fucking great,” she’d remarked to the woman who was sitting to her right and holding a screaming toddler on her lap. She didn’t think she could take much more of the wailing child. The cries were piercing and her head was still pounding from the night before. “Serves me fucking right for not convincing Dad to buy a first class ticket,” she grumbled to the obese man to her left. Charlie felt like she was sandwiched between two of the biggest losers she’d ever laid eyes on. She called for the stewardess to see if she could get a seat change but the woman just gaped at her.

  “I’m not going to say it again. This flight is booked solid. There are no seats available!” Clearly she needed to take a chill pill, which was exactly what Charlie needed at that moment, chased down with a stiff drink.

  When the stewardess
turned on her sensible heels to deal with a clogged toilet, Charlie imagined jamming a long stick up her ass. That’s her problem, she needs to be fucked and fucked hard! she thought, while bracing herself for a long evening ahead. Not only was she was exhausted but the stench in the cabin had become overwhelming. It was just her luck that her seat was only two rows away from the lavatory that was overflowing with shit. She ordered a vodka and tonic then grabbed a pillow and placed it over her face in a feeble attempt to block out the odor and the brat who was by that time kicking the seat with such force, her drink toppled over.

  “When the plane finally landed it was nearly ten in the evening. Before it even reached the gate, I pulled out my cell phone and called my best friend, Janie,” she told Dr. Harrison while replaying that conversation over in her head.

  “Hey Janie, can you pick me up at the airport?” she’d asked her best friend. “My plane had to detour to Philly because of the fucking storm!”

  “What the fuck?” Janie screamed with excitement on the other end of the line, causing her to almost drop her phone. Everything with Jane was always two octaves higher than it needed to be. “This is awesome, Charlie! I was just headed downtown. I can be there in thirty,” she said before asking for the flight information. Charlie planned on crashing at her place near Thirtieth Street Station and taking the metro liner to Penn Station early Sunday afternoon so she could be at her Perspective class first thing Monday morning.

  After grabbing her luggage, she waited for Janie outside the terminal. It was bitter cold and the wind was fiercely blowing. She was wearing flip-flops with an adorable dragonfly embellishment that she’d picked up on a whim in Palm Springs. Normally, she wasn’t in the least bit interested in flip-flops, but they were cute enough to catch her attention and so she’d bought them on impulse. Standing there with her brightly painted pink toes which were freezing, she had second thoughts. What the hell had I been thinking! Every inch of her body was aching and the skin on her forehead was beginning to flake off in large patches from too much sun and too little protection.