Imperfectly Bad

by A. E. Woodward

  “So tell me about yourself,” I called as I placed the lasagna noodles in the pan and slathered on a layer of sauce.

  “Well, I’m an only child. Grew up in Connecticut. Just graduated from NYU last spring.” Wow, I was good at reading chicks. “I have a degree in Elementary Education and I teach third grade.”

  “That just about covers all the bases.”

  There was no point in asking any more questions. This was already borderline date territory, and delving any deeper into her wouldn’t be beneficial to either of us. It’d just get her hopes up, and I liked to keep my knowledge of the girls I banged to a minimum.

  “So where’d you learn to cook?” she asked, taking a sip of her wine.

  “I’m Italian. It’s in my blood.”

  I laid the cheese out and continued layering the pasta and sauce. I took a sip from my wine glass and choked it down. This was just not my taste. Give me scotch or beer any day over this fruity bullshit.

  Casual chatter filled the air while dinner cooked, and I was quickly finding myself bored. I needed dinner to be over with so I could get on with sealing the deal. The girl was sweet, but there just was nothing interesting about her. She was as vanilla as vanilla gets.

  I’d wined and dined her, but hadn’t really thought through how I was going to pull off my big finale. Surely she would find it problematic that I didn’t kiss? It may be hard to get a girl like her going without kissing first. Guess I’d find out soon enough.

  We ate and I never let her wine glass run dry. By the end of the meal she was full of giggles, and I grabbed her by the hand to lead her to the couch.

  “What about the dishes?” she asked nervously.

  “Fuck the dishes.”

  Another giggle escaped her mouth as we sat down. The minute we hit the couch, she stopped laughing. It was obvious she was nervous, and likely questioning her own morals. Perhaps she needed a little encouragement. I ran the pads of my fingertips up her arm.

  “You’re so pretty.” She shied away, turning her face from my gaze. Gently, I placed my fingers on her chin and turned her back toward me. “Seriously. You are.”

  “You’re the first guy to tell me that in a long time.”

  Oh yeah, this was gonna be easy.

  “I’ve got an idea.” Taking her wine glass from her hand, I sat it on the coffee table. “We’re gonna try something. You’re gonna close your eyes, and I’m not going to kiss you.”

  “Not going to kiss me?”

  “I’m basically going to kiss you, but without ever putting my lips on you.”

  She was chewing on the inside of her cheek, and I was beginning to think she was going to get up and leave, ruining my night in the process. I was jonesing. I needed this to calm my nerves. She was perfect for what I needed tonight. Something calm and sweet. Something that would make me feel slightly human, instead of like the empty vessel that I actually was.

  I was surprised when she leaned back and shut her eyes. A smile crept across my lips and I admired her long eyelashes before putting my face close to hers. It made me feel slightly uneasy—almost like I was being too intimate—but I pushed my own feelings aside, knowing that this would be worth it in the end.

  “You… are… beautiful,” I whispered in her ear, before licking her neck and blowing on the trail my tongue left behind. Pausing, I looked at her face, gauging her reaction.

  She was biting her lip, the sides turned up in a small smile. Her body twitched underneath me, urging me to go on. Always a good sign.

  Using my fingertips to trace her lips, I watched as her chest began to rise and fall faster as her breathing quickened. As she drew in deeper breaths, her lips parted, and I slid my finger in. She didn’t disappoint and greedily took me in her mouth. Her tongue massaged my finger, and she teased me with a quick suckle before releasing.

  A devilish grin crossed her face and she opened her eyes slowly. Just watching her eyelids, hooded with arousal, I knew I’d sealed the deal.

  Taking full advantage, I snaked my arms around her waist, pulling her closer into me before pushing one hand up her shirt. She was stacked well enough and sighed and moaned a little when I pushed the cups of her bra aside to tease her nipples.

  The action had the desired effect and she threw her leg over my lap to straddle me. I placed my hands on her hips and grinded mine against her so that she knew where I wanted this to go.

  Her hormones must have overtaken her because she didn’t shy away from me. Instead she reached down and undid my pants, freeing my erection. Digging into my pocket I pulled out a condom and passed the foil package over to her.

  Her hands shook as she took it from me.

  “I’ve never done anything like this before,” she whispered, looking at me through hooded eyelids. Just watching her hands trembling, I believed her whole-heartedly.

  “It’s okay. It wont change my opinion of you.”

  “Which is?”

  “That you’re a good person, and I’m lucky to have found you.”

  My words were calculated. The number of times that line had gotten me laid was ridiculous. All nervousness left her as she smiled and licked her top lip before pushing her panties to the side and slowly sliding down onto me. The tightness was overwhelming and I groaned my approval. For a fleeting moment I felt guilty and I wondered why she was doing this with me.

  Deep down I knew why—she was innocent and more than likely believed in love. This girl was pure, I could feel that much, and I was taking advantage of the situation. Although I’d made no promises, she was expecting something from me. Without a doubt, she was hoping that I was “the one.”

  Not a chance.

  As difficult as it was, I let her take the lead as she slowly and sweetly moved her hips against me. I mirrored her rhythm but when she leaned down to kiss me, I turned my head slightly and her lips hit my neck instead.

  She stilled for a moment, completely breathless, and I took the opportunity to pull her shirt off over her head. There was no hesitation in my movements as I unfastened her bra with one hand. After countless escapades with the females of NYC you could say I was an expert at removing a woman’s clothes. She gave a short squeal as I shifted my weight, flipping her over onto her back in one swift movement. Not usually one for the missionary position, I figured it was the least I could do. Give her the fantasy, let her think I was a good guy, that she was possibly the one for me, even though I knew she wasn’t.

  Taking her nipple in my mouth I pushed myself back into her. A soft mewl left her mouth when my mouth left her breast, but as I began slowly gliding in and out, her sharp nails dug into my back, urging me to pick up the pace a little. I did, but never allowed myself to go all out. She didn’t deserve to be treated like the others.

  Hell, she didn’t deserve this at all.

  The guilt consumed me, but I pushed it aside. Finally, after making sure she was satisfied—I had a reputation to uphold—I found my release and collapsed against her, being careful not to give her my full weight.

  As soon as her breathing returned to normal I felt her move. Disheveled, Liv pushed herself up off the bed and looked around for her clothes, frantically grabbing at them and pulling them back on. Running her fingers through her just-fucked hair, she straightened herself up.

  “I really don’t go around and do that,” she whispered, and I knew chicks well enough to know that she was digging for reassurance. But she wasn’t going to get it from me. She’d served her purpose. The game was over.

  “Whatever you have to say to validate yourself…”

  The temperature in the room dropped dramatically and she stared at me in disbelief. “Excuse me.”

  “Of course you don’t do that all the time, but your stellar self-esteem and guilty conscious certainly tell me that that wasn’t your first desperate attempt at landing a man.”

  Gasping for air, she clutched her belongings to her chest. Sensible shoes, boring purse, and less than memorable jacket. What had I been thinkin
g?

  “You’re a horrible person,” she cried just before she turned on her heel and fled, slamming the door behind her.

  I picked up my wine glass and chugged the remaining liquid in one gulp. If I had any kind of conscience, her words would have stirred some sort of emotion with me, but I couldn’t find an ounce of me that cared. Being bad wasn’t so horrible.

  Was it?

  There had to be well over a hundred strangers packed into our little bachelor pad, all of them getting in my way. I pushed through the sea of people, separating them at the shoulder each time, mumbling some careless apologies as I made my way toward the kitchen.

  Trying to find anyone among the throng of people was useless and I hopped up onto our kitchen table, looking over the tops of their heads to search for Tyler. My eyes raked over everyone. You’d think, with the size of him, finding the Jolly Green Giant would be easy, but with so many bodies packed into the room like sardines it was nearly impossible. Finally, I spotted him in the living room, talking to some guy, his arm slung around Elizabeth’s neck.

  Goddamn, Elizabeth Sloan. Prudish Bitch.

  Hopping down, I fought my way toward them. My temper flared. I was surrounded by idiots that I didn’t really care about. Then again, it was some sort of company. At least I wasn’t alone again.

  “I’ve been fuckin’ looking for you for an hour,” I bitched in Tyler’s ear as I pounded a single shot that had been left out on the coffee table. It burned like lighter fluid as it went down and my stomach churned once it hit my belly. I coughed a bit, trying to bite back the bile.

  “That tastes like shit.”

  I slammed the glass back down onto the table.

  Tyler laughed, his arm slung over her neck. “Do you even know what was in that?”

  I shrugged. “Lighter fluid? Do I even really care? Where the fuck were you?”

  “Yeah, sorry to leave you on your own out here, but Liz and I had to go have a little alone time.” He smirked and my stomach flopped in response. Gross.

  “Well, now I’m definitely going to be sick.”

  Elizabeth smacked Tyler on the arm, scolding him for the over share.

  “We were just talking,” she cried, attempting to defend her precious reputation. She didn’t want anyone to think that they were boning yet… again. Since they’d gotten back together they’d vowed to take things slow. Making an attempt at the “whole building a relationship” the right way instead of relying on their “chemistry.”

  It was cute—insert sarcastic undertone—but I called bullshit. They were totally still fucking, but for whatever reason they wanted to put up a front. Fuckers should just slap on some purity rings and call it good.

  No matter how much Tyler enjoyed boning, or just “being with her” as he put it, I still hated the thought of Elizabeth Sloan. That girl was a greedy little bitch in my book. Always had been, always would be. She was shady as fuck, and I didn’t trust her one bit. It didn’t matter to me that Tyler loved her. Well, okay, I was glad he was happy and all, but I just didn’t like her.

  Love didn’t exist anyway. Love was ridiculous. Love was useless. That’s pretty much how I felt about it. It may have seemed ignorant, but maybe if I kept saying it, I’d actually start believing it. Like, what would I ever know about being in love?

  But here’s a little secret: I knew a thing or two about it. In fact, I’d spent my teenage years hopelessly, head-over-heels, in love and it didn’t get me anything besides a whole lot of heartbreak.

  Fuck love, and all its bullshit promises.

  Who gives a shit about hearing those three little words?

  I love you.

  Pfft.

  “Oh God! Oh, Rob! Faster! Harder!” That’s all I ever really needed to hear. In fact, it was pretty much all I ever heard. At a guess, I’d say it was one of the main things that bugged Tyler about living with me. Either that, or he put it all in his spank bank. But that was neither here nor there. That shit was the stuff dreams were made of.

  I rolled my eyes and chuckled. “Sure, Elizabeth. Whatever you say.”

  “Shut up, Rob,” she spat back.

  The hatred was mutual. She loathed being around me just as much I did her, but we both sucked it up and dealt with it for Tyler. We just refused to be nice to each other.

  Flipping her the middle finger, I directed my attention back to Tyler.

  “So, what are you doing?”

  “I told this chump”—he gestured towards the guy standing next to them—“that I could bench press Half-Pint a hundred times…”

  As he tailed off I laughed, assuming my part in this hustle. We’d done this a time or two. “Oh yeah?” Tyler and I loved to use his freakish strength to our advantage at parties. Pull-ups, push-ups, bench pressing bitches. Yeah, it had always been part of our thing.

  “Fuckin’ yeah,” Tyler said with a smile. Elizabeth’s eyes darted back and forth between us, unaware of what we were doing.

  “There’s no way,” the guy said.

  “Well, I’d like to see him try…” I said casually. Tyler could do it, I’d seen him lift weights for years, but I was a sucker for a good party trick.

  In true glory days fashion, Tyler, always a steroidal maniac when drunk, ripped off his shirt and lay down on the coffee table. Once he was comfortable, he gestured with his head towards Elizabeth. If I knew Elizabeth Sloan, this would go over like a fart in church.

  As if on cue, Elizabeth shook her head, crossing her arms across her chest in protest. “No way, Tyler Johnston. You are not bench pressing me like a piece of meat.”

  “Oh, don’t be such a goody two-shoes,” I teased.

  She glared at me. “I hate you.”

  “Feeling’s mutual.”

  “C’mon, Babe,” Tyler pleaded from the table. “If you let me play, I promise I’ll take you home straight afterward.”

  Frown lines appeared on her forehead as Elizabeth contemplated his offer. She hated when we had house parties, saying they were skeezy and put her on edge. Which, knowing what I know about her past, is understandable. Elizabeth Sloan had been through a lot. Back in high school, she’d been the victim of a fairly brutal assault that had left her hardened to the world. It had taken a while, but Tyler had stuck at it and had brought her back to life.

  She bit her lip, obviously weighing her options out before she made a choice, but with Tyler’s offer to take her home straight after, I knew her well enough to know that she would take the deal. It was possible that she hated house parties more than she hated me.

  She sighed before sitting on his lap and pressing her forehead to his. “Fine.”

  Seemingly oblivious to the crowd around him, or maybe he just didn’t give a shit, he crashed his lips onto hers and dipped her back into his arms. Their lips separated as she straightened in his arms and he pushed her over his head. I had a feeling that this wasn’t their first rodeo, I imagine that the two of them had probably made a go of this before. In fact, thinking back on it, I know I’d seen Tyler and Elizabeth do this one time when just the three of us were at the apartment. She’d been in on it the whole time. Impressed, I smirked. It looked like Tyler would be making an easy $50.

  A few minutes later, sweat was beading from Tyler’s forehead and his arms were shaking, but he had nearly reached his goal. Tyler was about to make a loser out of this guy.

  “Ninety-eight…”

  His voice strained as he pushed Elizabeth up.

  “Ninety-nine…”

  He lowered her and bit her butt. She screamed and I laughed. With one last heave, he pushed her back up and looked over at the idiot who had made the bet, smiling as he lowered her one more time and quickly shot her back up.

  “One fucking hundred!”

  Elizabeth giggled as Tyler sat up and brought her down into his lap and kissed her… again. It really was sickening. I groaned in disgust. It was my own apartment and I was surrounded by a bunch of love drunk idiots. It was enough to drive me crazy.

&n
bsp; “Take me home now,” Elizabeth cooed.

  “My pleasure.” He winked before swiftly hopping to his feet. He slapped my shoulder and said, “I’ll be home in the morning to help clean up.”

  “What-the-fuck-ever.”

  Tyler shook his head and took Liz’s hand, dragging her behind him as they vanished into the sea of people. Ever since he and Liz had gotten back together, he never made it through a house party.

  I was wrong when I said Tyler was whipped.

  Boy was hella pussy whipped.

  Some random dude, I hadn’t paid attention when he told me his name, was laughing. “No fuckin’ way, dude,” he said in between breaths.

  “Yes, fuckin’ way,” I quipped back as I hopped up onto the coffee table. Tucking my shirt into my pants, I made some last minute preparations. I’d done this a million times and it never got old. I was giddy with excitement.

  Seeing my expression he stopped laughing, knowing that I was serious, and a look of panic spread across his face.

  “You’re going to kill yourself,” he argued.

  “Nah.” I shrugged my shoulders. “Worst thing, I might break my neck. And that wouldn’t be so bad because maybe then I’d have some hot candy striper giving me sponge baths.”

  Draining the rest of the beer in my red Solo Cup, I crushed it with my hand and tossed it to the floor.

  “Now,” I called out to the room, “which one of you lovely ladies hasn’t caught my herpes, yet?”

  Yes, that line had actually worked for me in the past. Don’t judge me. Judge the bitches that fell for it.

  Despite the noise of the party, I heard a girl giggling from behind me and turned toward her. I did a quick once over. She was hot, and I knew I’d seen her around before. What was her name? Amy? Ana? Alexis? I couldn’t remember, but it didn’t really matter anyway. There was no question she would be my latest conquest.