by Carlos Dash
Chapter 9
Making sure the traces of confrontation have left my features, I smoothly meet the girl’s gaze and say, “Are you alright?”
“Yes, I think so,” she replies back to me, her lips pressed so tightly together that they look like one singular line. Despite the strength she showed earlier, she’s obviously having a hard time getting over what just happened. Her heart is probably going a mile a minute.
“Sorry about that.”
“What are you sorry for? You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I know. I’m just apologizing on behalf of the entire male species.”
Her lips curl into a proper smile. Genuine.
“Well, in that case, on behalf of the entire female species, I accept your apology.” She looks at the empty chair across the table from her and nods at it, her brown locks shifting a little. “Would you like to sit down?”
I’d like to do a lot more than that.
“If you don’t mind,” I say innocently.
“Not at all. I could do with some company right now.”
And so it begins.
I sit down in the chair and look across at the girl’s face. Our eyes meet—those brown orbs of hers pulling me in. We linger in that fashion for a bit longer than is necessary or normal, and then she looks away and pretended to be checking the time (funny thing is she wasn’t even wearing a watch).
I keep staring at her, enjoying watching her squirm under my gaze.
“I’m Dorian Alexander,” I say eventually, offering my hand, which she takes into her own after the slightest bit of hesitation, meeting my eyes once again.
“Nice to meet you, Dorian.”
And that’s it. She just stops talking as she releases my hand. I expect her to say her own name, but she doesn’t.
Weird.
“So, are you going to tell me your name or do you want me to guess it?”
“Is that necessary?”
“What, telling me your name? I never really thought of that before. I guess it’s not one-hundred percent necessary, but I’d like to know what to call you. I’m not a creep or anything if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m not going to start stalking you if I get your full name.”
A stalking joke directed at a female can go horribly wrong, but thankfully, the girl just releases a nervous chuckle and explains herself.
“It’s not that. Honest. I’m sure you’re not a weirdo.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
She shrugs, “Names aren’t really necessary for what I have planned.”
I can’t help but lean in closer to her. “And what would that be?”
She matches my body language and also leans in. “Maybe you’ll get to find out.”
The way she said that… like she was telling me about something scandalous… it makes the hair on my arms stand up… and I mean that in a good way.
I’m starting to really like where this is going, but still, what kind of person doesn’t want to tell a guy her name if she isn’t scared of him?
“Okay, let’s settle for a compromise then. Just tell me what your mother’s maiden name is.”
Bingo. That works like a charm. The girl starts laughing. It’s a perfect feminine laugh. Not one of those guffawing sounds I hear all too often.
“Something I said funny?” I ask with a raised eyebrow, pretending as if my question was created by a legitimate curiosity about her mother’s maiden name.
She shakes her head. “You’re sweet.”
“Heh. You got ‘sweet’ from that?”
She leans back. “My name is Emily.”
“Just Emily? Like Madonna or Cher?”
“Just Emily for now.”
“Ah. So it is a secret. You’re not on the run from the FBI, are you?”
“Nope.”
“CIA?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Homeland Security?”
“Not even close.”
“Salvation Army?”
There it is again. She’s laughing like I’ve just told the wittiest joke in the world.
She’s obviously really into me, so there’s no point in beating around the bush (no pun intended) any longer.
“You want to get out of here?”
Chapter 10
Emily blinks at me like she’s wondering if she heard me incorrectly.
My facial expression does not change, nor does my body language. I want her to know exactly what I’m suggesting.
“You mean, um, together?”
She looks and sounds so young and naive as she says that, I almost have second thoughts about the whole thing. But my attraction to her keeps me rooted in my desire to take her home.
“Yes. Together.” The rest of the words just start to come out, a sudden compulsion to be truthful with her. “Just so you know, I’m not asking you out. I don’t have any desire to date you or anyone else. I just want to have a good time, and that’s it. I won’t get your number, and you won’t get mine. After tomorrow morning, we’ll likely never see each other again, and that’ll probably be for the best.”
I expect her mouth to drops open in shock, but she just gazes back at me with interest.
Honestly, I wouldn’t blame her if she told me to fuck off—this kind of a carnal arrangement isn’t for everyone.
“Okay.”
“Okay as in yes?”
She nods her head in confirmation.
This is going to be fun.
“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s get out of here. This place is getting a little too crowded anyway. My car is out front.”
I don’t think to ask her if she wants to follow me in her own car or if she took a taxi to the bar. I just get up and walk towards the door, expecting her to follow.
A few of the male costumers shoot me dirty looks, but I’m just glad I didn’t bump into the redhead. That would have caused a scene, to say the least.
What a night. And the best part of it hasn’t even started yet.
We step out into the outside world and inhale some of the fresh air. It’s a nice change of pace compared to the interior of the bar.
“Which car is yours?” the girl asks me from a few feet away, her eyes scanning the different makes and colors of all the vehicles in the parking lot.
“The black Mercedes. The one over there,” I lazily point in the direction of my car.
“Fancy.”
“Is that sarcasm?”
“Just a little.”
I look at her and see that a grin has formed on her face.
My heart skips a beat, and I curse the thing for it.
What the hell. Not the first time a pretty girl has smiled at me. So why am I reacting this way?
Get a grip, Dorian.
Once we we’re both inside the car, Emily quickly puts on her seatbelt and leans back into a comfortable position. I start the engine and wait a few seconds for it to heat up before reversing the car out of the parking spot.
As I pull onto the busy streets, I finally put on my own seatbelt and glance at the beautiful creature next to me. She’s biting down on her bottom lip as if considering something.”
“You okay?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You look like you have something on your mind.”
Emily lets a few seconds pass by before straightening up in her seat. She starts to speak while looking directly ahead out the window.
“There’s something I need to tell you. I don’t think you’re going to like it.”
Oh boy. This can’t be good.
“Don’t tell me you’re actually a man.”
“What? No. Of course not.”
Most people would have been able to tell that I was joking. The girl doesn’t strike me as someone who isn’t bright, so she’s obviously too stressed to use common sense.
With a sigh, she rushes out with everything. She says it all as if it’s one big sentence:
“It’s my boyfriend. Well, he’s my ex-boyfriend no
w. I broke up with him about a week ago. He was cheating on me, and I just got tired of putting up with his crap. That’s why I came to that bar. To find someone to… spend the night with. I know it doesn’t sound very ladylike, but it is what it is, and here I am. I wanted sex. That’s the truth of it.”
Chapter 11
Emily’s information comes only as a mild surprise to me. Nothing shocking.
I figured that it had to be something like that. There are only a few reasons why a girl in her age group would come to a bar by herself. Revenge is one of those reasons.
“It’s okay,” I tell her as we stop at a red-light. “I don’t care. I knew you didn’t come to that place to find true love or anything.”
“It doesn’t upset you to know that?”
“Not at all.”
I find myself wondering what kind of a moron would cheat on a girl like her? Probably some guitar-playing douchebag.
But why do I care who it was? What business is that of mine? It’s not like I’m friends with her. I just met her a few minutes ago.
Emily doesn’t speak again for a few minutes. When she does say something, her voice is lower than before. Much more quiet and withdrawn, like she’s embarrassed about admitting all that to me. It was private information after all.
“This is the first time I’ve done something like this. Picking up a guy at a bar for a night of meaningless sex. It’s just so… not me.”
“I’m not judging. I don’t have any right to. It’s not as if I ended up in that bar by accident myself.”
She sighs. “The whole thing felt so strange. I just came in and sat down and waited for someone to come up to me, but after a few minutes went by I thought no one was interested.”
“They were intimidated by you,” I assure her. “That’s all.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
“Thanks,” she says gratefully, as if I’ve just put all her doubts to rest. “So you really don’t have any problem with this situation?”
“None. I’m not expecting us to fall madly in love. I know what this is all about. I think that’s probably why you didn’t want to tell me your full name, because you don’t want it to get too personal. You want it to stay as it is on the surface—just about sex and nothing else. That’s fine with me.”
She perks up a bit. “Good to know. Are we heading to your place?”
“I assumed that’s where you wanted to go since you didn’t say anything about where you live.”
“Yeah, no chance we can do this at my house. It’s a bit too crowded at the moment.”
I raise my eyebrows, wondering what her living situation is like.
“By that, do you mean you still live at home with your parents, or that you’ve got a couple of hitchhikers tied up in your basement?”
“Neither. I live on campus at my college. I’m just visiting my parents right now while I’m on break. My aunt is also staying with us. You wouldn’t believe how loud the woman can get. But I suppose it’s kind of my fault she’s there in the first place. I’m the one who called her up and told her when my break was.” She scoffs in disgust. “Big mistake.”
I smile as I hear her say all this in a hurry. She almost doesn’t stop to take a breath between her words. Again with that youthful energy.
The question comes out through my lips and enters the air before I even realize what I’m saying.
“How old are you?”
The moment I say that, I seriously consider throwing myself out of the car.
I have to keep my eyes on the road, so I don’t turn to look at the girl, trying to read if I’ve pissed her off by asking about her age.
“What, did I say something wrong? Is that question out of bounds?”
“No, it’s not out of bounds. It’s just that…”
“I’ve offended you,” I say with certainty.
“No, you haven’t. I’m not offended. The problem is… oh, what’s the harm in telling you. I’m twenty. What about you?”
Ah. So she is under the legal drinking age. I didn’t see her actually drinking anything, so it isn’t exactly a big deal. And even if I had seen her drinking something, it’s not like I would have turned her in.
“Me? I’m twenty-eight.”
I can’t tell you how relieved I am that we have less than a decade between us. Just an eight year gap.
Not bad at all.
Nothing for me to feel guilty about.
Chapter 12
I turn onto my street and spot the roof of my house at the corner of the block. Naturally, the closer we get to the place, the more of it Emily can see. Once the front of the two-story structure becomes visible, she whistles in appreciation.
“Nice.”
“Is that sarcasm again?”
“Not at all. I’ve been around this kind of stuff for most of my life so I don’t really care about it, but I can appreciate great architecture. It’s a beautiful house.”
“Thank you,” I say, somewhat absentmindedly. My thoughts are lost on the middle part of her sentence. She’s been around this kind of stuff for most of her life? What exactly does she mean by that?
Does she come from a lot of money? I can ask her in the morning if I’m still curious then. No need to mention it right now. I don’t want to do or say anything that could make her change her mind about wanting to sleep with me.
I bring the Mercedes to a stop in my driveway, not in the mood to take it into the garage—part of my motivation for doing this is a desire to bring the girl into the house through the front door. Call it vanity if you want, but I want to see her eyes widen at the sight of my antique furniture.
If we were characters in a Hollywood movie, I would have taken her directly into my living room. There, I would have fixed her a drink and we would have resumed our conversation in front of the fireplace. You know, the whole James Bond seduction technique.
But we aren’t characters in a movie. This is real life, and in real life, the closer we get to my front door, the more I find my urges getting the better of me. My blood is warming up and my penis has risen out of bed to salute the world.
There’s no way in hell I’m going to be able to sit through a proper conversation now.
Seduction process be damned. This needs to start happening right away.
We cross the threshold and entered my home. I turn on the lights and Emily spends some time looking at everything in front of her—it’s a nice house in one of the more upscale parts of town, and if you had walked into the place with us you would see leather couches, polished armoires, fancy paintings, and other such things that would impress most people.
For me, I never really cared about that kind of stuff, but it fits the image of wealth and status I’m going for.
Emily turns to me after she’s done taking everything in. “You really like to make a good first impression, don’t you? How many other girls have you brought back here? Out of curiosity, I mean.”
I’m not the sort of guy who keeps track of such a thing, so I just shrug. “Who keeps count? It hasn’t been that many.” I quickly aim to change the subject. “I didn’t want to spare a cent to class this place up. Make it look like a king would be happy to live here.” I begin to point at certain things here and there, bringing up their value, hoping I’m not making myself look like too much of a douchebag. “That chair over there, I had it shipped over from France. It’s from the early nineteen-twenties. Cost me a little over three grand. And that painting, the one over there with the gold frame, that was two thousand dollars. The guy wanted five, but I talked him down. Imagine that, five thousand for an abstract.”
I turn to see Emily looking at me with an amused expression. “Yeah, imagine that.”
More sarcasm? How can she not be the least bit impressed by all this?
Forget it, I tell myself. So what if she doesn’t care. It’s not like I want her to be my wife or anything. I just need to bang her and get to sleep.
Chapter 13
Knowing that my strategy won’t backfire—causing the girl to push me away for being too aggressive—I pounce.
I put my right hand on Emily’s back and push her into me. Our lips collide as I give her a hard kiss. The last thing I see before I close my eyes is a look of mild surprise on her face. She hesitates for only a fleeting moment before getting into the kiss herself.
Here we go.
It’s not as if we’re going to be passing the time by playing scrabble, so if you don’t want to read about me screwing the girl’s brains out, I suggest you skip a few pages ahead.
Go on. No one is going to blame you for doing it. A lot of people aren’t comfortable reading about such things.
No? Still here? Okay. Your call.
I put a hand on the girl’s lower back and slowly bring it down to her backside. I gently squeeze her ass and she moans while our lips are still locked together. The next thing I know, she’s prying herself away from me and gulping for air.
“Well, you’re eager,” she says with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
I don’t respond. At least not verbally.
Sometimes in life, nothing needs to be said.
I push her even closer to me so that I can now feel her tits against my chest. She’s looking at me with anticipation, waiting to see what I’m going to do next.
I give serious consideration to just ripping off her clothes and doing her right here and now, but logic rears its ugly head and talks some sense into me.
Fucking on the floor isn’t the best idea for tonight. The tiles are probably really cold. But I do have to act right away. The girl is waiting for me to do something. She wants me to take charge.
“You ready?” I whisper to her even though there’s no one else in the house.
She moves her head down just once. A sharp nod.
It’s really cheesy and I know it’s something you should only do if you call yourself Zorro and stop crimes while wearing a mask, but I can’t help myself.
