by Skylar Cross
He reached down for his briefcase and brought it up to the table. He dialed in a code on each side and flipped up the latches. He took out two items.
The first was a gold locket. It was an old round piece with a flip up opening. Next to it he placed a book that had seen better days. Frayed and worn, the embossed gold title read Death at Sea.
The room swayed a little. I gasped and grabbed the table.
I felt the rolling of ocean waves. I smelled salty air under a blistering sun. My throat went tight as I sensed the water closing in on me. I heard loud splashing and creaking as the boat tore apart... and something else. Somebody calling my name.
Then I was back in the privacy room, the tall dark stranger staring at me with his perfect eyes. He made a little nod, like he was confirming something with himself.
What the fuck was that?
"Are you all right?" he said.
"Yes, I'm fine," I said, regaining my composure. "Sorry."
He closed the briefcase, locked it, and put it down by his feet again.
I don't know what it was, but I read serious pain on his face as he picked up the locket. Distress. Sadness. I could see it in his eyes. He turned the locket around in his hands a few times, and then flipped it open.
He put it down on the table directly between us. A black-and-white photograph of a woman with a stern expression looked up at us. Actually, it was more brown-and-white. 1920s, I'd guess from the look of it. The woman looked oddly like me.
He stared at me, took a deep breath, closed the locket, gripped it with his hands, then placed it inside the safe deposit box.
Then he took the book, held it for a second while staring at the title, and then placed it inside as well. He flipped the lid shut.
"Okay," he said. "I'm done."
That was it, huh? Must be some locket. Must be some book.
I rose from the table. He picked up the box and followed me out.
We went back into the vault. He placed the box inside the wall and shut the open door.
"Now," I said, "to lock it, we need to do the same exact procedure in reverse. So enter your five digits while standing directly in front of the box. I'll turn my head."
He did so. The green light turned red.
"Now we turn our keys together again."
I took a deep breath and reached up to my key. Normally, we just let the customer turn both keys but I really liked the first time we did it together and any chance of doing it again with him I’ll take, damn the panties.
I took my key out. The red light went off.
He took out his key and smiled at me. He began leading the way to the door of the vault but abruptly turned to face me and took a step forward. I jumped backward a foot or so, pressing myself into the wall of boxes.
“Kiri,” he said, stepping into my space, “I have one further question before I leave.”
“Uh-huh,” I said, my breathing rapid and my heart pounding in the hot room. Our noses were only inches apart. I could feel his breath.
“I don’t want anyone else when I come to access my box. I always want you.”
“I… uh… can’t guarantee that I’ll always be here.”
“What are your hours?”
“It changes. I work some night shifts, some day shifts. It’s never the same so I can’t say…”
“I'll call before I come.”
“Okay.”
He walked out of the vault. I peeled myself off the wall. My legs felt like jelly. Fuck, I’m a complete mess. Not only do I need new panties, I need an entire goddamned new uniform.
Once outside the vault, I closed the big door and turned the handle lock.
“Thank you,” he said as he put his hand out.
“Anytime, Mr. Willoughby,” I said as I shook his hand. My toes danced in my flats at his touch.
"It's H, remember?"
"Right. H."
One final twat-melting smile and he was past the ATMs and out the front door. He strode down Boylston Street like it was Horace Willoughby Street.
Troy appeared next to me.
“Are you okay?” he said. “Do you need some water? Maybe an I.V. I’d better call 9-1-1.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I said. “Do I look that bad?"
"I thought you were going to leap on him and rip his suit off with your teeth."
"I thought about it."
“Me too. Such a shame all the good ones are fucking hetero.”
“Oh, for sure. Such a shame.”
“You mock me, wench. Just for that, I’m not going to lunch with you.”
“Oh, you’re going to lunch with me. I need a drink. I may need two.”
A customer applying for a loan with Sandy looked up at me from the circular table.
Whoops, said that a little too loud.
Chapter 2
Eric and I reached my apartment.
“You really didn’t need to walk me here from the T,” I said.
“No, it’s okay,” he said. “I… uh… wanted to.”
Here it comes. The awkward goodnight kiss. Shit, I hate this part. I want to make it a rule that guys need to make out with girls for a full minute right when they say hello on a first date.
This would solve a lot of problems. First, he would be more relaxed and wouldn’t be all squidgy when it came to the goodnight kiss because he’s already had his tongue down my throat earlier.
Second, both of our breaths are fresher at the beginning of the evening. But third, and most importantly, I would be able to tell if there’s any sparks… way before we even arrive at the restaurant.
Of course, that would negate the entire reason for going to the restaurant if he proved to be a dud.
Which, come to think of it, would be another benefit. If there are no sparks, I could fake a phone call from my dying uncle, send my date on his merry way, and then go back in and get caught up on Scandal.
"So," Eric said as he leaned forward and in one jutting smash pressed his lips into mine. He got the side of my mouth and darted his tongue inside. I felt his hands move around to my back.
I leaned my head back away from him and took a step backwards. He froze.
"I had a great evening," I said. "Thank you."
"Oh, great," he said, shaking. "Me too. I'll... uh... call you."
"Yes, you do that. Call me," I said.
"Okay, well... uh... bye."
"Bye."
He disappeared down Harvard Street toward Brookline. I let my breath out. I hadn't realized I had been holding it.
Fuck, I'm glad that's over. That's it, no more Facebook meetups. I have to find a new way to meet guys.
I wasn't sure I wanted to go up to my apartment yet. I was wearing my new green dress and Reed Krakoff pumps so I felt like I should go somewhere, seeing as it's a warm Saturday night and it's only ten o'clock.
But what if I run into Eric after just sending him away? No, he's heading straight home to whack off.
I entered the vestibule of my building while I tried to make up my mind. I could call my brother Dan, see if he wants to meet up for a drink. Shit no, he's with his girlfriend Nikki at some comedy show. Fuck.
I could call Brian. But I know what will happen. We'll have some boring chit-chat, smoke some weed, fuck, then I'll go home.
Brian is my on-call booty call. He's usually home. He's usually stoned. And he's an okay fuck. I made the mistake of once thinking he was boyfriend material. I soon learned he's just a stoned penis, good for tension release.
And tonight I had a lot of tension. Ever since meeting that damned striking Horace Willoughby two days ago... that can't really be his name... I was a complete horndog.
I even considered taking Eric inside and ravaging him. But I knew I'd never be rid of him then. I would be suffocated by an endless parade of calls and flowers and romantic shit.
Which would be great if it came from Horace Willoughby... H. H like heroin. Addictive, he said. Ha. He has no fucking idea. I met him once and he's all I
can think of.
Oh fuck it, it's time for Brian.
Busy? I texted. That was usually all it took.
I exited my vestibule and lit a cigarette while I waited. I don't usually smoke, but I felt like I needed to be doing something.
"Hey baby!" said a guy from a car slowing down. "You looking for a good time tonight?"
I jerked my thumb toward Comm Ave and rolled my eyes. The car drove off. Maybe standing out here dressed like this isn't such a good idea after all. I stamped out the cigarette and went back in the vestibule.
My phone buzzed. There was a text from Brian.
at wallys. onstage at 1130. come visit
Shit, I forgot. Brian is in a jazz band and plays on weekends.
So, the remaining choices are... a) Go upstairs, whip out my vibrator, and destroy my clit while fantasizing about Horace Fucking Willoughby, or... b) Walk down to Great Scott or Wonder Bar, find a horny guy, go home with him, and let him fuck me while fantasizing about Horace Fucking Willoughby.
God, did I just actually have that thought? That's not me.
A is safer. A is me. Just go with A, Kiri. A it is. I trudged upstairs.
Before I got to my door, I heard my roommate Karen. Shit, she has her boyfriend over. How can I tell? Pretty much all of Allston/Brighton can tell. When they have sex, Karen is loud. Really fucking loud. You can probably hear her across the river in Cambridge.
Shit, I'm not even going in.
Fuck, I wish the apartment lease was under my name. I'd kick Karen out and advertise for a new roommate. Besides, she's a slob. I think I hate her.
So... Great Scott or Wonder Bar, Kiri? I'm dressed nice, so Wonder Bar.
It took less than two minutes. I know the doorman so I went past the line and right in. I walked up to the bar, ordered a drink, and boom! just like that a BU senior was chatting me up.
He was big, blond, and muscular. I stayed talking to him for about twenty minutes just to keep from looking like too much of a slut. He saw the desperation in my eyes and led me out.
His apartment was your typical pizza box-laden mess. I almost ran out but he grabbed me and kissed me after shutting the door.
As his hands moved all over me, I closed my eyes. He became Horace Willoughby.
We were quickly in his bedroom, which smelled like farts and beer.
Whatever. Just fuck me.
Soon he was on top of me, yanking my dress off.
"Wait!" I said. "Let me take it off."
He paused to let me save my new expensive dress, getting naked himself. His average-sized cock was throbbing and ready. It excited me a little. I do love cock.
I even saved him the effort by removing my bra and panties too. If I'm going to be a slut, may as well go all the way.
"Wow," he said.
I'm not sure if he meant Wow, you have an amazing body or Wow, I can't believe you're this easy.
For my self-esteem's sake I'm going with the first one.
"You have protection?" I said.
"Yeah," he said like he hadn't even thought of it and started looking around, picking things up and tossing them around.
"It's okay," I said as I opened my purse and pulled out a condom. "I got it covered."
"Wow", he said again. A man of many words.
I threw myself on his ratty bed and pulled him on top of me. I unwrapped the condom and got it on his dick rather quickly before I had a chance to think about what I was doing. Then I let him clumsily fuck me while I closed my eyes and pictured aquamarine eyes, a solid chin with a dimple, and slick black hair with little wavy endings.
Chapter 3
"I did a bad bad thing," I said as I crouched down in Troy's cubicle.
"Baby did a bad bad thing," said Troy in his best Chris Isaak voice.
"No, I really did," I said.
"Oh, do tell," said Troy, his face lit up with anticipation.
The Monday morning sun peeked out from the penis-shaped skyscraper over by the Pru. Oddly fitting.
"I've become a slut, Troy."
"Ohhhhh... congratulations, I always knew you had it in you. Welcome to the club. We'll send your membership card out in three to five business days. Details, honey. Now."
"I went home with a guy Saturday night."
"The one you had the date with?"
"No, my date was a dud. Typical nice guy. But I was horny so I called Brian. He was playing so I went to Wonder Bar, saw a stud, and..."
"Oh no you didn't!" Troy put two hands to his cheeks and made a big O with his mouth.
"Yes, I did," I said. "He was some BU senior. Lots of muscles. Okay cock. Meet-to-fuck time was about thirty-five minutes. But now I feel so ashamed of myself."
"Kiri, I don't even know you anymore! It's me, isn't it? I've done this to you, haven't I? It's my own slutty ways that have spread to you. I'm so sorry for corrupting you, my delicate flower."
"Oh, shut the fuck up, you big fairy. The strange thing was, the entire time I was fantasizing about H."
"Heroin?"
"No, Horace. Horace Fucking Willoughby."
"Oh, me too! Dean was pounding me the other night and I pretended it was that sleek god. I came twice."
"You come from anal?"
"Multiple, sister. Better than the other way."
"Really? Hmph. But anyway, I feel like such a whore."
"I hope you used protection."
"Oh, you better believe it!"
"Did you spend the night?"
"No, once it was over I just said I had to go and that was that. Really fucking awkward. How do people do that? How did I do that? Me!? Oh God, what is wrong with me, Troy?"
Troy looked at the door and his eyes went wide.
"Look out!" he said. "The ice beast cometh!"
Barbara waddled in past the ATMs. I crouched down and almost crawled over to my own cubicle. Troy pretended to be busy. I logged into Outlook.
"Good morning," Barbara said as she passed us.
"Good morning," said Troy.
"Good morning," I said.
"Kiri," Barbara said, "I want you to work on G4G today. I'll do a review of your work at 4. I want to see those numbers up."
"Sure," I said.
G4G stood for Goals For Growth, a company-wide program that requires outbound sales calls. I'm not a hardcore salesperson so I hate it. But I have to do it. Whatever.
And so another day at QV Bank began.
As I drafted loans, opened accounts, and processed paperwork I tried to pretend I'm not a slut, but all day I felt like my nametag read Kiri, Slut.
God, I went home with a complete stranger! It's not that I haven't had meaningless sex before, but that was the first time I was desperate enough to go home with a total stranger.
After sweating through several calls trying to reach "decision makers" and having no luck, I was in Barbara's office at 4:05 with my G4G reports. The spring sky had turned gray, threatening an April shower.
"You know this is your job, don't you?" said Barbara as she looked at my pathetic call log. I had a quick flash of me throwing her out the window but that would have required a team.
"Yes," I said. "I'm... uh... working on improving my outbound phone skills."
"You only made five calls today."
I contemplated a response when my eye caught a familiar shape cutting its swath of feral masculinity past the window. Dark suit, sunglasses, briefcase.
My pussy sprang to attention. My heart beat faster.
"Kiri, are you listening to me?" said Barbara.
"Hm?" I said. "Oh. Yes... it's just that I have sent about five hundred emails to corporate executives about our new business account program. So I thought I would wait to hear a response from them."
That was him. H! He's here! He's inside this bank! He occupies the same space as me right fucking now. Shit, he's going to take one look at me and see that I've become a slut. Fuck, why did I do that Saturday night? I should have just ignored Karen's bloodcurdling orgasm screams and
used my vibrator.
"Kiri, did you hear what I said?" said Barbara.
Shit. No, I didn't.
