Lockout

by Maya Cross

  Two days later, I woke up to find a message from him.

  Sebastian: You're coming out with me tonight.

  I couldn't help but smile. No request. Just an order.

  Sophia: And what if I have plans?

  Sebastian: I won't be stood up for a stack of subpoenas and a glass of red.

  Sophia: Haha. You know me too well. Fine. Where should I meet you?

  Sebastian: I'll come to you. I want it to be a surprise. Be home and ready by 6.30. And wear comfortable shoes.

  Of course. Why tell me what we were doing when he could just keep it shrouded in mystery instead? I had to hand it to him, he knew how to keep a girl guessing. The comfortable shoes tidbit was interesting. It seemed to imply that we'd be walking somewhere, but I'd long since learned that his hints could rarely be taken at face value.

  As usual, my excitement made the day go by at a crawl. This would be our first full night together with everything laid out on the table. For the first time, I could be completely unashamed of the way he made me feel. That was a truly glorious prospect.

  When five thirty rolled around, there was still a mountain of work needing to be done. The Wrights case had everyone with their noses to the grindstone. In times past, I'd blown off dates under such circumstances, but the thought didn't even enter my head tonight. I tidied up what I could, sent a few quick apologetic emails, and headed home. Little Bell had been my top priority for six long years; it could spare me the odd night here and there.

  Sebastian was perfectly on time as usual. As I stepped out of the front door, he cast his eyes over me and made a little throaty sound. "You're a sight for sore eyes."

  I grinned. "We saw each other two days ago."

  "And every minute of those was agony," he replied with a dramatic flourish. He did a double take when he spotted my shoes. "The princess is wearing her slippers out again I see."

  I'd wondered if he'd notice they were the same pair from that first night. In my experience, men didn't pay much attention to shoes, but Sebastian didn't seem to miss anything. "Well, after the prince so graciously returned them to her, she figured she should make good use of them. Besides, they're the most comfortable shoes she owns."

  "Fair enough."

  I curled my hands through his hair and pulled his mouth towards mine. God, I'd missed him. In that moment, I was certain I would have been quite happy just standing on my front step with our lips locked together for the rest of the night.

  As if reading my thoughts, he pulled away. "Easy now. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. There will be plenty of time for that."

  I made a show of pouting, but let him lead me to the car anyway.

  The trip was longer than I'd expected. Rather than dropping us somewhere in the city, Joe continued to drive out over the Harbour Bridge.

  "Where are you taking me?" I asked, more than a little curious by now.

  But he merely smiled. "If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise."

  Once we crossed the Spit Bridge, I had a better idea, and my suspicions were proven right when we pulled up outside the Manly boardwalk. Manly is one of the suburbs that sprawls along the north side of Sydney Harbour. It's a lovely area; a dynamic mix of beach culture and nightlife. I'd had several messy nights there in my youth, although not for a few years. Old age had made me cynical and territorial, and I tended to stick closer to home now.

  "Ah, so another waterfront meal is it?" I asked, feigning disinterest.

  He gazed down at me in amusement. "Would it be a problem if it was?"

  "Oh, I guess not," I said, trying to hide my smile. "You may want to consider some new material, that's all."

  "You underestimate me, Sophia. I've got a few more tricks up my sleeve yet."

  Linking arms with me, he led me along the pier. I'd expected him to take me into one of the softly lit, glass panelled restaurants that looked out over the bay, but instead he guided me into the back streets. After just a few minutes of walking, we were essentially in suburbia. I kept my mouth shut now, content to just wait and see.

  Eventually we ducked into an alley which appeared to be lined with houses. Sebastian stopped and exchanged a few words with a man who was standing outside a fairly unremarkable doorway. After a few moments, we were led inside and down a narrow staircase. The whole thing had a clandestine feel to it, much like that first night we met, and much like that night, I was not disappointed by what I found.

  "Wow," I said, as we reached the bottom. "This is awesome."

  I had been half right. It was a restaurant, but it was one of the liveliest restaurants I'd ever seen. The room was packed full of people, all sitting at long tables laughing and chatting and passing around colourful plates laden with food. The air was heavy with a million fragrances, garlic and paprika and the sweet bite of fresh chili. The whole place had an amazing vibe, like everyone had a tacit agreement to shed their troubles for one night and just enjoy themselves. I would have been surprised to spot a single unsmiling face.

  "Welcome to Mi Casa," Sebastian said.

  "My house?" I asked, vaguely conjuring the translation from some long forgotten primary school Spanish class.

  He nodded.

  "A bit of a strange name for a restaurant."

  His smile widened. "It's not just a restaurant. Come on, they're holding a table for us." Taking my hand, he led me up to the front counter. The man there recognised him instantly, and after a few emphatic words, he guided us towards the back of the room.

  "This is my favourite place in the whole of Sydney for a night out," Sebastian said, once we were seated. "I don't get to come here very often anymore, but every time I do, I enjoy myself."

  "I can see why," I said.

  Without us even having ordered, a waiter appeared at our table bearing two glasses and a tall jug of sangria.

  "Standard issue," said Sebastian, with a wink. I wasn't complaining. It was delicious, sweet and rich, but with a hint of spice.

  After studying the rather intimidating menu, I gave Sebastian leave to just order for the both of us. There were so many dishes that I had no idea where to start.

  It was certainly a far cry from the last restaurant he'd taken me to. Quay had been quiet and sophisticated; the epitome of fine dining. This felt more like a well-kept family secret. From the plastic table cloths to the gregarious patrons, to the giant, warming plates of food, it was the kind of place that instantly made you feel at home. At one point, while Sebastian was ordering, he actually had to start yelling because a group behind us spontaneously broke into song.

  "Sorry," he said to me, when the waiter had gone. "This place can get a little rowdy."

  "Don't apologise. I love it. Who doesn't want a little show with their meal?"

  "Well, the meal will be even better than the show. The food here is out of this world. One of the only places that does paella as good as back home."

  "I'm looking forward to it." I took a sip of wine. "So you're originally from Spain then? I have to admit, that accent has always confused me."

  He nodded. "I get that a lot. I was born there, and my father was Spanish, but my mother was Australian. Growing up, I didn't really watch television or anything, so with just the two of them teaching me to speak, I kind of wound up with a mix of both accents."

  "Spanish and Australian, hey? Well, I must say, that's one hell of a hot combination." I thought back to my discussion with Thomas. I longed to know more about Sebastian's past, but I didn't want to push him. He'd already opened up about Liv, I figured the rest would follow when he was ready.

  Instead, we played catch up. Finally free to get to know one another, we covered every topic usually reserved for first and second dates; movies, books, music, TV shows. Neither of us had much time for that stuff anymore, but we fit it in where we could. It turned out he was a big horror movie fan, and he loved Jack Reacher books as much as I did.

  "He's the kind of practical hero I can get behind," he said.

  These were just tiny piece
s, almost inconsequential when taken alone, but each one added just a little bit more to the jigsaw puzzle of him that I was slowly assembling in my head.

  The food was as good as he'd promised. He'd ordered far too much — enough for a family of five or six — but he waved away my complaints, insisting that I try everything.

  "Are you having a good time?" he asked, when we'd about eaten our fill.

  "I'm having an amazing time. Although I'm still a little confused as to why I needed comfortable shoes. Are we going to run off our meal later on?"

  He smiled like a man who had a secret he was bursting to share. "You'll see soon enough."

  About ten minutes later, there was a commotion in the centre of the room. Looking over, I frowned as I spotted the bulk of the floor staff beginning to gather up tables and chairs and stack them to one side. It seemed a little early to be cleaning up, although nobody else appeared to mind. Most of the diners had vacated their seats and were standing to one side watching.

  "Kicking us out already?" I asked.

  Sebastian laughed. "Hardly. Watch."

  The waiters worked with a well-oiled precision, and in a few minutes, all but our corner of the floor was devoid of furniture. I'd had a few drinks by that point, so it still hadn't quite clicked, but a few moments later, the music that had been meandering in the background suddenly grew louder, and the tune went from sedate to bombastic.

  "Oh, no way," I said, watching in wonder as the crowd began to drift towards the centre of the room once more, their bodies now weaving in time with the rhythm. The energy in the room instantly spiked through the roof.

  "Like I said, not just a restaurant," he replied.

  "Apparently not." At that moment, the last piece of the puzzle fell into place. "Oh shit. Are you expecting us to dance?" If I'd been going out with anyone else, that thought might have occurred to me earlier, but Sebastian wasn't the sort of guy I ever pictured going out dancing. The freedom of it seemed so at odds with his iron sense of self-control. I figured it would just make him uncomfortable.

  "You look surprised," he said, hopping to his feet.

  "I just thought you were more of a scotch and poker kind of guy."

  "Can't I be both?"

  I shook my head slowly in disbelief. "Just when I think I'm starting to get you pegged down just a little..."

  He laughed. "There's a lot about me you don't know, Sophia."

  "Does all of it have the capacity to embarrass me as much as this?"

  "Oh come on, don't tell me you've never gone out dancing with your friends after a few too many."

  "Of course I have," I replied, "but replace 'a few' with 'a lot'. I'm certainly not that drunk yet. Besides, that was always at a club. If you can stumble in a circle with your arms over your head, you fit right in in those places. This is different. This looks like an audition for So You Think You Can Dance."

  I wasn't exaggerating. I didn't have the knowledge or vocabulary to describe everything that was going on in front of me, but it felt like everyone in the room had at least some kind of dance training. Couples writhed together in perfect unison, their movements wild, yet graceful and assured. No two routines were quite the same. Some pairs clung to one another like lovers on a bed, swaying and rocking in a permanent embrace. Others moved with more swagger, an ever shifting whirlwind of bare legs and muscular arms. There was something incredibly sensual about it all. I felt almost voyeuristic just sitting on the sidelines watching.

  "You're overthinking it Sophia. Remember what you said to me the other night? 'If you have to think then this whole thing is a lost cause.'" He pulled me to my feet. "You probably don't pay attention to the way you move, but I certainly do, and that body is made to dance."

  I looked on helplessly as waiters swept in to clear our table away too. "I thought dancers were meant to be tall and thin."

  He smiled a wicked smile and ran a hand gently down my hip. "Ballet dancers perhaps, but that's not really what I have in mind." He nodded once more towards the throng. "Come on, all you have to do is follow my lead."

  Maybe it was the pull of the music, or the seductive energy of the dancers, I'm not sure, but I found myself nodding. He led me into the fray.

  Instantly, I felt the adrenaline of the crowd wash over me. It was a tangible thing that filled the air, seeping through my skin and setting my body thrumming. The speakers were blasting out a driving rhythm, something modern, but with a distinctly Latin bent, and Sebastian was quick to find his stride. I don't know how I'd ever thought he'd look awkward. One glance at that lithe body and anyone could see how at home he was on the dance floor. His innate sexuality translated savagely well to such expression. Every gesture, every subtle shift of his hips, made him look even more alluring.

  Pressing one hand to the small of my back and seizing my fingers with the other, he began to lead me across the room, his feet a rhythmic blur, his body undulating like a flag in the breeze. I didn't want to make him look like a fool, so I tried my best to match him, but my muscles felt stiff in his hands. The show going on around us was elaborate, chaotic, beautiful, and I had no idea how I could possibly match it. I felt impossibly out of my depth.

  "You're still thinking," said Sebastian, sensing my discomfort. "Stop focusing so hard. This is meant to be fun, not a competition. The room doesn't exist. They don't exist. It's just you, me, and the music."

  I liked that idea. Closing my eyes, I leaned in against him and tried to relax. It was easier with everything out of sight. All I had to go by was the churning beat of the speakers and the touch of Sebastian's hands. Gradually, I let my muscles go soft, trusting that he would guide me. The throbbing bass was like a beacon, and I let my body follow as it desired.

  "Much better," Sebastian said.

  I had no name for what we were doing. Maybe I still looked stupid, I didn't know, but I no longer cared either way. It just felt right. I loved the sensation of being pressed up against him, letting him steer my limbs as though they were an extension of his own. In that moment, we were one entity moving in perfect harmony. It felt more than a little like when we made love — his hands manipulating me as my body bent to his, yielding to his control — and it was no less exciting for us being fully clothed.

  But beyond the physical element, there was something deeper. I knew it was a side of him that he rarely shared, which made it all the more special that he was doing so with me. One by one, his walls were tumbling down.

  As the first song ended, the music changed. The new tune was slower, more sultry, and Sebastian was quick to adapt. A delicate twist of his wrist and I was spinning away, then suddenly snapping backwards to rest against him once more, this time with my back against his chest. With torturous softness, his hands began to trace their way across my sides and down my thighs, flirting with the hem of my dress. Such intimacy in a public place should have made me balk, but the sensuality in the air was infectious. I was utterly lost in the moment. I could feel his breath hot on my skin as his lips teased the air just above my neck, tantalising but never touching. With every vacillation of our hips my ass grazed against his pants, letting me know that I wasn't the only one finding this to be a powerfully erotic experience.

  Other couples were throwing propriety to the wind too. Several men swept passed us with open shirts, their chests glistening with sweat, their partners slicing the air with their skirts like fans. One woman had shed her top all together and was twisting from side to side in just her bra like a belly dancer. All around the room, people were laughing and clapping and cheering in time with the beat. I'd never been part of such an unrestrained expression of joy before.

  "You look stunning," Sebastian breathed into my ear.

  "Do I now?" I replied.

  "You do. Although it might have something to do with the fact that everything you're doing right now, I'm imaging you doing it naked."

  I laughed. "Is that so? Well then, I probably shouldn't do this." Slipping free of his grip, I turned once more and began
to glide around him in a slow circle, swaying my hips provocatively and dragging my hands slowly up and down my body.

  A low, masculine sound escaped his throat. "God, I can only restrain myself so much, Sophia."

  I grinned, but didn't stop. It was thrilling putting on that kind of show for him in the middle of a crowded room. I could see the outline of his excitement pressing urgently against his pants. The truth was, with all the electricity that was coursing through my veins, I wasn't sure I wanted him to restrain himself. I'd had the elaborate foreplay, now I wanted what that promised.

  He didn't disappoint. At the end of my second orbit, he seized me once more and pulled me in for a kiss. The intensity in that gesture was almost overpowering, and for a few moments, I lost all sense of where we were or what we were doing. All that existed was the two of us, our tongues dancing together like our bodies just had.

  When he finally backed away, snatched my hand, and began leading me from the dance floor, I didn't say a word. It was a ludicrous thing to be considering with a roomful of people around us, but the longing I felt dwarfed all sense of logic.

  Somehow, he found a little privacy; a small function room hidden behind a curtain at the back of the room. It didn't provide much protection — there were no locks, nor even a real door — but I don't think there was an obstacle in the world that would have stopped us at that moment. Taking a second to unzip his fly and pull himself free, he looped his hands under my thighs and lifted me up, bracing me against the wall. I wrapped my legs around him, and then with a flick of his wrist, he nudged my panties aside and rammed his shaft inside me.

  Heat instantly tore through me.

  "You see how you make me lose control Sophia?" he rasped, his face contorted in pleasure. "I'm addicted to you. It's not enough. It's never enough." Every statement was punctuated by a powerful pivot of his hips.