by Brogan Riley
I had one best friend, but she was very catholic even though she was a biker’s daughter. Anyway, we talked about religion most of the time. Britt wanted to work as a missionary. I wanted to run the zoo as Seke’s old lady.
All in all I don’t know anything about being a bad girl.
My med school was Seke’s idea. I’ve always wanted to be an archaeologist.
The waitress delivers our food to the table and shoots us a warm glance. “Bon appétit, you lovebirds.”
“Thank you,” Seke says to her, but his eyes are trained on me, burning through me, planting a seed of dangerous heat into my tummy.
I grab a fork and start eating. “Delicious.”
“Yeah, it’s really good,” Seke says.
The waitress tilts her head and walks off.
I focus on eating, shrinking into myself. I can feel his eyes sliding over me. An urge to escape whisks through me.
“I need the toilet.” I raise my head.
“Sure.”
I rise to my feet and walk over to the bathroom. My head pulsates as my heart hammers in my chest.
What is going on?
Has he noticed I’m a grown woman?
Has my dream come true?
A wave of joy washes over my heart, but then ice fills my veins.
Maybe he wants me to be a replacement for her?
I’m not like her.
I don’t want to be like her.
I’m a mess, but I have something called self-respect. Spikes of rebellion course through me.
No way in hell.
I’m not my mother. I’m Rose. Rose deserves a man’s honest love for being fat and clumsy Rose.
Chapter 5
Rose
I return to our table, slip down into the chair, and we finish the meal in silence. It’s interrupted by the waitress and an old man with a silver beard who’s accompanying her. The waitress puts a cake on our table as the man lights the candle stuck in it with an antique silver lighter.
“All the best,” he says as the waitress claps her hands. “On the house.” He pats Seke’s arm with his dry hand that has brown discoloration and a cobweb of thin veins. “You should kiss your young wife now.”
I manage only a sigh as Seke’s arm shoots towards me. He seizes me around the waist and tugs me into his lap. His lips slam on mine.
I can’t breathe. My heart stops beating. Fever surges through me.
I’ve never kissed a man.
I never imagined a kiss to be so consuming. So wet and scratchy.
I feel like I’m the timeless void and the exploding supernova at the same time. Like there’s no me, just the passionate unison of our mouths. His manly smell. My intoxication.
Seke tears his mouth off and looks at the man. “Enough?” Amusement coats his voice.
My mind whirls, every atom of my body asking ‘What the fuck is happening?’.
That was… I don’t know. I’m just stunned.
The old man shakes his head, patting the front of his blue chequered shirt with his hand. “Your wife will divorce you if you keep kissing her like that. Put in more effort.”
Seke chuckles as his hand travels to my head. He pulls my hair together and winds it around his fist, holding me in place. His mouth covers mine. His savage tongue forces my lips to part and searches for mine.
I can’t breathe.
I’m burning.
I’m disintegrating.
I hear people clap their hands, whistle, and hoot, but it sounds like I’m underwater.
I feel an enormous palm run up my outer thigh and squeeze my ass cheek.
I feel like I will be consumed any moment.
I want to be consumed.
The kiss deepens, causing my lips to sting. Greedy fingers dig into my ass cheek and almost bruise my flesh. The people chant and laugh and clap with even more enthusiasm. Everything is hot and blurry. My mind spins out of control.
I draw in a sharp breath.
I realise Seke’s forehead is pressed against mine, his hands on my neck and lower back. Our breaths merge.
“That will do,” the old man says, his voice like an echo. “Now, blow out the candle.”
It’s quiet. So quiet the sound of our breaths is a loud noise.
Why is he holding me in his arms? Show is over.
“Rose?” Seke wraps his arms around me and we lean over the cake. “Together?”
I wheeze air onto the candle, but my effort does nothing to the red flicker, so Seke is to blow it out. My blood pumps in my ears. His taste still lingers on my lips—the fierceness of a real man. His smell still lingers on my skin—the musky allure of a real leader. I feel the urge to escape. To stay. To tell him everything about my love for him. To tell him off.
“Rose, open your mouth,” Seke says.
I do as I’m told. A bit of the cake is shoved into my mouth. A kiss follows, seals, strips of rationality. I swallow, but the kiss never breaks. No, this is not a kiss. This is a hot wet dance of decadence. Normal people don’t kiss like this. Seke’s tongue strokes mine in a shameless and possessive way. In such a filthy way that I tremble.
The people talk around me, wish me all the best, and laugh.
The kiss breaks and a sense of loss claws at me.
I need… more.
“We should go,” I murmur though.
“Are you tired?” Seke asks.
“I… am.”
Seke turns his face to the waitress. “Is there a hotel or any nice place to stay in?”
“There’s a room upstairs,” the old man says as he threads his fingers through his short hair in all shades of grey. It’s thick despite his old age as are his bushy eyebrows that frame his coffee-brown eyes. “On the house.” He winks at us as he rubs his hands together.
No, this is not happening.
“Thank you,” Seke says. “We’ll definitely take the room.”
This is happening.
Seke rises to his feet, scooping me up into his arms, and carries me over as the old man leads us through a double green door and then upstairs. The wooden steps screech and moan under the men’s boots. My eyes slide over the green wallpaper with a white flowery pattern and then travel to the ornamentation adorning the ceiling.
“The little woman looks knackered,” the old man says as we advance along a wide corridor. 1940s photos adorn the walls and two red fringed rugs lie on the wooden floor. “She needs a good sleep.”
“She’s very delicate,” Seke says.
The bastard sounds like he’s having a lot of fun. My God, I must have been cursed.
The old man emits a raspy chuckle like he’s been a heavy smoker his whole life. “My wife was like her. Pretty. Delicate. You take care of your wife properly, son.”
“I will,” Seke says, correcting my position in his arms. “Really nice place. Good food. Nice service.”
“My father built it,” the man says. He stops by a brown door and pulls the heavy ornate door handle. “It’s all yours. My bedroom, but it’s just been cleaned up. The bedding is fresh.”
We enter a room with antique furniture. It smells of old wood and old memories. Faces smile at me from the black and white photos hanging on the walls. It’s like we’ve moved back in time. 1940s? She was a nurse, and he was a soldier, probably the old man’s parents. A few more 1960s photos feature a young curvy woman with long hair. The old man’s wife, I assume.
Seke sits me in a flowery armchair and turns to face the man. They shake hands.
“Seke.”
“Emilio.”
“Rose,” I squeak, but the men don’t pay attention to me.
They exit the room and talk outside it, but I can’t discern the words.
What the fuck is happening?
My head threatens to explode.
Seke
I don’t want to upset the owner so I continue with this charade.
No.
I continue with this charade because I want to kiss her and touch her once aga
in.
I don’t know what has come over me. Like something has stripped me of rationality.
She’s Martha’s daughter.
She’s untouchable.
No.
Martha is dead, and Rose is alive.
Rose is mine.
Mine.
My mind chants this word a hundred times.
I walk downstairs and exit the café. I grab our bags and go back inside the building. Emilio walks me to my room once again.
“Very young,” he says as a friendly grin crosses his furrowed face. “Mine was very young too. Very eager. Very curvy.”
“You had kids?”
“Two. They have kids. And their kids have kids.”
I nod. “We want to have three kids.”
“She can give you six healthy kids,” he says, grinning even wider, “and a lifetime of fun.”
“I know.”
A raspy chuckle leaves his mouth. “The bathroom is in the corridor behind the white door.”
“Thank you.”
“If you need anything just let me know.”
“I will.”
We part and I enter the room. Rose shudders at the sight of me like a startled chicken.
“Are we going to pretend to be a married couple until tomorrow?” she asks.
“Emilio is really nice. You don’t want to upset him, do you?”
She shakes her head. “Everyone is nice here.”
“So we should be nice too.” I put the bags on the floor.
She nods. “Is there a bathroom?”
“In the corridor behind the white door.”
“I… maybe… I’ll have a shower.”
“Sure.”
She digs her hands into her bag, grabs her toiletry bag, and exits the room. I remove my cut and hang it on the ornate hook that protrudes from the wardrobe. Kicking off my boots, I pull my t-shirt over my head and toss it onto the armchair. I stretch my body out on the bed.
She tastes like strawberries that have been caresses by the summer sun’s rays. So sweet. So addictive.
So pure.
She tastes like she belongs to me.
I want to plant wild, sinful kisses on those plump lips of hers.
Rose returns in what feels like half an hour. Her hair is damp and her clothes are drenched.
“I had no towel,” she says.
I rise to my feet and grab a blanket from the top of a chest. I throw it at her. “Use this,” I say.
She looks at me like I’m a serial killer. Yes, I should give her some privacy.
“I’ll have a shower,” I say with my hand on the back of my neck.
“Ask them for some towels.”
“I will.”
Rose
He exits the room and I spin like I’m going to turn into a tornado at any moment. I peel off my wet clothes, use the blanket as my towel, and put dry underwear and dry clothes on. They comprise a pair of tracksuit bottoms and a printed t-shirt.
The waitress delivers a bottle of champagne to our room and five minutes later, some sandwiches and towels. My God, all of this is like some black comedy.
“Carmen,” she says.
“Rose.”
She smiles at me. “He is so handsome.”
“Seke?”
“A biker.” She purrs and winks at me. “You lucky girl.”
“I’m nobody special, you know, and he…I mean my husband—“
“You’re beautiful,” she says. “He can’t tear his eyes off you.” She sighs. “You’re very lucky.” She strokes my arm up and down with her knuckles. “You need anything else?”
“No, thanks. I’m fine.”
She nods and walks off.
I dive under the comforter. The bedding is crisp and smells of lavender, a shield that’s going to protect me from Seke’s alluring yet intimidating presence.
One bed.
No, this is not happening.
The waitress said he couldn’t take his eyes off me.
One bed.
No, no, no. Maybe I could sleep in the bathroom.
Seke walks into the bedroom, droplets of water glittering on his bare chest like crystals, a towel wrapped around his hips. His damp hair is tied in a man bun.
I want to disintegrate.
I’m not lucky.
I’m doomed.
He is a god, and I’m an ugly frog.
I curl up into a ball and hitch up the comforter.
He won’t do this. Why would he? It’s too early. He won’t.
My God. He is doing this.
I hear the puff of his towel and the sound of his footsteps, and then I feel the heat radiating from his body as he slips under the comforter.
“Tired?” he asks.
“Uhm.”
“Get some sleep then.”
We’re lying on one bed and he wants me to sleep? I hope he’s at least wearing his boxers.
My God. Was I a criminal in my previous life?
“Rose, look at me.”
I turn over as my eyes meet his.
“You want me to open the bottle of champagne?” he asks.
“Maybe later.”
“You want to talk?”
I want to evaporate, but talking may divert my attention from the prospect of sleeping with him in one bed. “I don’t want to go to med school.” Wow. What bravery. I can’t recognise myself. “The thing is... I don’t want this.” I pull myself up and sit on my heels.
He wants to talk? Let’s talk. Yeah, let’s have a very honest conversation for once.
My mother wanted to be a doctor. I feel nauseous at the sight of blood.
Seke sits up. “Why? I thought it was your dream job.”
“My mom wanted me to be a doctor because she wanted to be a doctor herself but couldn’t afford to go to university. I want to be an archaeologist. I love history and old stones.”
He nods. “Okay. Fair enough. I’ll sort it out for you.”
Okay? Since when? My eyes widen. “I… I want to go travelling.”
“Where?”
“South America. Asia. No, South America.”
“Alright. I’ve always wanted to visit Peru and Brazil.”
My jaw drops open. Really? Why is he so soft with me?
No, wait a minute. He wants to go with me?
“Take your clothes off, Rose. It’s hot in here.”
No, he didn’t just say that.
Chapter 6
Rose
“I’m fine,” I say. My face feels like it will incinerate. “Really.”
“The clothes, Rose.”
I don’t know what this is about his voice. It never threatens, never scares, yet I always obey. I drop my head, wiggle out of my tracksuit bottoms and then remove my top. They land on the floor with a sarcastic puff. I cover myself with the comforter.
I want to ask ‘why’, but I don’t. I never ask questions. I just obey.
“It’s hot,” Seke says, “and I want you to be comfortable.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll pour you a glass of champagne.”
“Okay,” I screech.
He jumps out of the bed, my eyes tracing his smooth movement, and I can see he is wearing his boxers. Thank God, he decided to be decent. I watch him open the bottle expertly. It only pops before he fills our glasses. My eyes slide over the perfect muscles of his back and arms and the tattoo stretched over his shoulder blades. It’s a wolf and a skull with a feather fun.
Seke returns to our bed and hands me a glass. I take a sip. The bubbly richness tastes divine, a very expensive brand I suspect.
“I just want you to feel good, Rose.”
I almost choke. With a dry cough, I put the glass on the mahogany bedside table. Tears flow down from my eyes as I clear my throat. Seke puts his glass next to mine, his arm crossing over my chest, and he strokes my head with his palm.
“Okay?” he asks.
“Yes,” I rasp.
His closeness is suffocating as it blends
with his manly smell, creating a dizzying, dreamy cloud around us. My personal space is all him. I can’t breathe.
“I’ll maybe try to get some sleep,” I say.
“Sure.”
I lie on my side, my back turned to him. I feel his body beside mine. I feel his tempting heat, breathe in his smell—a hint of shower gel mixed with his light sweat. I hate his intimidating closeness, and I love it, crave it, need it.
“You’ve never had such a fat woman in your bed, huh?” It just pours out of my mouth.
It looks like I have no self-preservation instinct, no intelligence, no dignity. I’m a whingeing little girl, begging for his attention and compliments.
I eat a lot.
Yeah, I’m good at eating.
Nothing wrong with that. Curvy women like me have the right to live. It’s just that I want to be an attractive woman to him.
I feel his breath on my cheek as his chest moulds to my back. “You’re curvy in all the right places. Your curves are…” He emits a low growl, causing a tingle to run down my spine. “Rose, my men would devour you. I would… Fuck, I would…” His words carry such a dangerous massage, such a menacing spell that I don’t want him to finish. “Sleep, baby girl,” he adds.
I want to pee not to sleep, but surely, I can manage. If he moves away, I may even be able to close my eyes and rest for a few hours.
He doesn’t move away.
His hot lips brush against my shoulder. He nuzzles his nose against my head, trails it back to my shoulder and then plants a flame of kisses up to the nape of my neck. I feel his tongue leaving a wet path on my skin.
His hot breath puffs on my ear. “Sweet dreams, Rose.”
Seke
She jumps out of the bed, mumbling something. Jumps out like I’m a disgusting spider. I watch her grab the blanket and leave the room.
I know I’ve crossed the line.
I don’t give a fuck.
I’m a predator and she’s my prey. She’s mine.
She returns five minutes later, shakes off the blanket and slips under the comforter. We lie on our sides, facing each other.
