by Tess Harper
I also can't see anything, but I know the polished tiles beneath me are a bland, inoffensive beige with white specks. I'm well acquainted with them at this point. I shut my eyes and lean forward until my lips brush against the top button of his jeans.
He's dressed casually today. Sometimes he wears suits that look and feel as if they cost more than what most people make in a year. Other times he's in clothes that are ripped, soft and worn thin from overwork. He always smells the same--a clean, simple masculine scent that makes my heart race frantically and my pussy ache.
I take his zipper in my teeth. His breath catches. I haven't even touched him yet, and already we're both anxious and desperate. My tongue tastes metal. Slowly, I lower my head, unzipping him. Then I take his already erect cock in my mouth.
I swirl my tongue around the tip. He groans but doesn't push forward. His hands come to either side of my head, brushing my hair behind my ears as I push myself over him further. It stretches the back of my throat. It hurts a bit. But I push deeper, sucking harder, moving over his cock faster and faster. I don't stop until I taste him.
He's still for a moment, his cock still erect and in my mouth. I swallow and it twitches and he sucks in a breath. He's still sensitive.
His hands relinquish my face as I fall back. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and look up. My eyes have adjusted to the dark now. I can just barely make out his masked face.
"Do you like this, solnyshko moyo?"
The sound of his voice startles me. I wasn't expecting him to ask me any questions--I wasn't expecting him to care. I nod. I don't know if he sees it in the dark, but he doesn't ask again.
It's true. I like this--everything about this. I don't know why I do, but I do. Or maybe I do know why and it just scares me. For years I've wanted to escape from myself, and he gives that to me.
Maybe I like it better when we don't speak, because if we did, he would no longer be the means through which I escape. What we have would just be another precious thing in my life. And like all those other precious things, this would also one day break.
Chapter 12
The rest of the day passes pretty much without incident. Well, almost without incident. I got three angry texts from Cassie. Derrick has been leaving Cassie little handwritten notes in her locker at Bertram. Why does this asshole have time to come all the way over here and bother me? she asks. She sends me an angry text every time he does, not that I can blame her. If only you'd come clean about David sooner! she often wines. She's upset about blowing up at him, of course, but mostly pissed about the way he keeps playing with his head. She wished she'd kept his number so she could leave creepy messages breathing heavily into the phone. Personally, after she said that I thought it was a good thing she didn't keep it. He'd probably like it.
My last class seemed to drag on forever. The walk home also seemed to go on forever. I love the cello, but lugging it around after a long day can sometimes be a bit rough. There are times I wish gramps played the flute.
Finally, I'm home. I kick open the door to our place and groan as I stomp up the stairs. I set the cello down as I fish out my keys, open the door and scream.
Thank God I'd already set down my cello! "Dolly, what the hell are you doing?"
Dolly's face is inches away from mine. "I heard you coming up the stairs."
That didn't surprise me. It would be more impressive if she hadn't heard me. "Why did you come up right next to the door and..." I glance down, "why are you holding a knife?"
She inches back. "You kinda sounded like a zombie."
"What?" I screech, picking up my cello case and setting it down inside.
She closes the door behind me. "Relax. I'm chopping up some veggies for a salad." She grins. "You did kinda sound like a zombie, though."
"Thanks." I shrug off my coat and place it on the gigantic monstrosity Anna bought from some Asian antique dealer in Chinatown. Antique my ass. It looks like something malfunctioned at the Ikee factory and they dumped it into the ocean to hide the evidence. I swear to God those weird white, puffy hard things on the edges are barnacles instead of lotus flowers. Man that girl has weird taste.
Dolly grimaces. "You're a braver girl than me, Laura. I don't even touch that thing."
I laugh. "Why did we let Anna stick this by the door again?"
"It's too big to fit through her bedroom door. Also, we'd kill ourselves if we tried to lug it back downstairs. I still don't understand how they got it up here." Dolly waves her knife at me. "You, me and Cassie need to find some hot, strong men."
I cover my mouth with my hand so she can't see my smile. "We're not that hot."
Dolly walks to the kitchen area, pouting. She puts some salad on a plate. "Hey."
"It's not like I'm trying to be mean! I don't think that anyone is that hot."
"Yeah. You're probably right. It looks like someone put a curse on that thing." She hands me the plate with a huff. "And speaking of curses, you're not allowed to wear that coat when we go out tonight."
I sit at the counter. "Where are we going?"
She winks. "Don't worry, you'll like it."
My stomach drops. "I'll like what?" I ask slowly.
Dolly sighs. "I know you weren't with David," she whispers.
I'm glad I'm sitting. Otherwise I would have dropped the plate. "Uh...uh..."
"Don't even try, Laura," she murmurs. "I didn't say anything at the cafeteria because Cass was having a meltdown and wouldn't see reason. And I know it wasn't Derrick, either. I don't even think the guy knows your name."
I wanted to ask: Is it really so weird for him to not know my name? I mean, people can develop feelings without knowing one another's name, bare their souls, join their bodies...
And then I realize what I'm thinking, and how incredibly sick I am.
"Yeah," I respond.
Her mouth tightens. "Who is it then?"
My eyes feel dry. My stomach drops. I can't think of an excuse.
"That's what I thought, and that's why we're going out--not to find you something new, mind you, I don't think going on the rebound is a good idea--but you need to dance that guy, whoever he is, out of your system." She looks me over. "A few drinks wouldn't hurt, either."
"Why do you think I need him out of my system?"
Her eyes soften again. "Because you can't talk about him. That's never a good sign."
I can't argue with that. Though dancing him out of my system is impossible, a night out with my friends wasn't going to end in disaster. In fact, it might be just what I needed.
***
I wobble down the street in spiked heels I can only stay upright in because when we first moved in together, Dolly made us all practice strutting our stuff for twenty minutes on every girls' night for five months. The silver 'dress' I'm wearing is decked out in sequins and barely covers my ass. It also barely covers my boobs, but that isn't because they're insanely large or anything. The front of it has a few rips right where my cleavage is. When I asked Dolly what the hell was up with that, she curled her hand into a claw and said rawwr! After that, Cassie and I looked at each other and decided we weren't going to ask her any more questions.
Needless to say, I'm a little cold in a few places.
Cassie looks a lot more sophisticated, but then again, she'd bitch-slap anyone who told her how to dress, especially if that someone was Dolly. She's in the same fuck-me heels, but she looks sophisticated and dominant despite the fact she's also having some trouble walking. Tastefully untamed, thick hair fans around her face. Her red dress hugs her curves in all the right places and brings out the warmth in her caramel skin.
When we arrive, the bouncer doesn't make us wait.
I feel awkward walking past everyone else in line. I never liked that about clubs--how some people are made to wait in line, how only 'the chosen' are allowed to enter. It makes everything seem seedy and artificial and leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
Dolly and Cassie don't like such rituals either, but Do
lly said it was unavoidable if we wanted to get into Clone.
Cassie and I both made a face when she told us the name of where we were going tonight. Clone? It sounded so...derivative. Dolly waved away our complaints. It was the hottest place in town, apparently. Nevermind that New York City wasn't exactly a town, and there were probably over a hundred hottest places. Then she pouted and told us that this really hot guy who'd seen her in that off-Broadway, post-modern play she'd done a few weeks back had invited her.
"Ohhhh," Cassie and I had said at the same time as she shimmied into a tight black dress and pulled up her garters. "He sounds pretty sophisticated if he frequents places called Clone," Cassie drawled.
Dolly had raised her eyebrows in challenge. "You should reserve judgment until you see the place."
Grudgingly, we did. And as we step through the doors, all of us are speechless.
"Who is this fan of yours, Dolly?" I whisper as Cassie's grip on my arm tightens.
"Yeah. What the hell is his job?" Cassie adds.
Dolly scrunches her nose. "I'm not...completely sure...but I'd heard this was a nice place, so..."
Even she is at a loss for words. This isn't a nightclub. This is some crazy mash-up of a 19th century gentleman's club and Showgirls. It's most certainly not the kind of place a guy would come to to find a girl he'd take home to his mother.
"Oh, there he is!" Dolly grins, tugging on my arm. "And he has a friend."
Two dark haired guys walk towards us.
"Hello Dolly," one of them grins as he takes her by the arm.
She looks over her shoulder, glowing. "This is Michael. Michael, these are my friends Cassie and Laura."
"Hello ladies," Michael drawls. "This is my friend Alexander."
"Pleased to meet you both," Alexander purrs. He has a British accent. Unfortunately, his sexy voice does little to mask the eagerness in his eyes as he embraces my hand and Cassie's at the same time. "You ladies are stunning, much better than I expected," he tells us.
Excuse me?
Alexander's lids grow heavy. "I cannot wait to...dance."
Cassie and I share a look. The guy is a little too excited about the prospect of dancing with both of us.
Dolly's mouth drops open. Sorry, she mouths.
"It's alright," Cassie grumbles. "Just go have fun with Michael. The two of us will...with this."
For some reason, Alexander's grin deepens as if Cassie just payed him a compliment.
Thank you, Dolly mouths as Michael leads her off to the dance floor.
Alexander is a little weird, but he's no slouch. He orders drinks for us. Five minutes and three shots later, Cassie just can't take the awkward silence anymore. "So, what do you do?" she asks.
Alexander raises his eyebrows.
"What do you do?" she repeats.
He flashes her a big, goofy grin. "Hey baby," he slurs.
Oh man, this is not looking good. How can he get tipsy so fast? I stand up and almost fall over.
Cassie catches my arm. "Are you okay?"
"Hey, I barely feel it, alright? I can do everything," I tell her.
Cassie rolls her eyes as Alexander closes in. I guess he doesn't like the fact that the conversation is no longer focused on him. "Vanilla and chocolate. Yum. My two favorite flavors."
It takes Cassie and me a moment to realize he's talking about our skin color. This does not endear him to us.
He leans against the bar, his Tequila breath steaming down my neck. "We should dance."
Cass yanks him away. "Uh, no. She's not dancing in that condition."
"Hey." I swing my arm in her general direction. "I said I'm fine."
"You want this guy to gallantly catch you if you fall on your face?" she whispers.
I frown. Glance at Alexander. He gives me his sexiest come-hither look, which is totally not sexy and definitely does not want me to come any closer.
I give Cassie puppy eyes, silently begging for help.
"That's what I thought. And by the way, you so owe me." She grabs his hand. "'Chocolate' doesn't like to compete with other flavors."
He's either too drunk or dense to detect anything mocking in her tone. I giggle as she leads him to the strobing dance floor.
I sulk as I finish my drink. I start to feel the music. I mean, it's really bad club music but I feel too warm and giddy to care. I squirm back and forth on my seat, bobbing my head. I get a little too into it and spill some of my drink on Dolly's dress.
Oops.
I set the drink down, and thank God I do, because at that moment someone comes up behind me.
"Dance with me."
Chapter 13
His voice is thick with an accent that I think is Russian, sort of like my midnight lover, but other than that he sounds nothing like him. His voice is too high. It doesn't touch my soul. Still, I shut my eyes and feel myself sink into it--that longing always in my veins, on the tip of my mind, like a shadow, whenever I think of him.
"Okay, one dance," I say. "Don't get any ideas."
"Wouldn't dream of it, Milaya Moyna."
It's a different endearment. I don't like it. I swivel my chair around, frowning, and put a finger over his lips. "Bad name!"
"Okay, babe."
I giggle at how he says babe and he gives me a lopsided grin. He's actually kind of cute, with short cropped hair, steely eyes and boyish features...and I'm fairly sure that isn't just the beer goggles talking. He's a bit more muscular than I'd like, but that's alright. But best of all, he looks as out of place in the club as I feel.
I let him pull me onto the dance floor.
"You're beautiful, babe."
I laugh. I feel more tipsy than beautiful, and I suspect my grin is a little wider than it should be, and my face is most certainly an unflattering shade of deep, alcohol-infused red. Well, he wants to get some so I guess he'd say just about anything. "I'm not interested in doing all that, fine sir. Just dancing."
He pouts and I level him with a gaze that says he needs to stop or I'm going to stomp off. I'm not good at dancing. Never have been. But my stiletto's and the three or four or five shots I just downed definitely don't make things easier. I teeter back and forth, waving my arms to keep my balance, feeling a bit like a stork.
The guy puts his hand on my shoulder. "Relax."
I don't like being told what to do by strangers, but his accent is nostalgic and I do want to relax. The strobe lights start pounding with the rhythm of the song. The beat cascades through me. I feel it in my blood. I throw my head back, and my hair sticks to my bare back, my neck, and my face. I roll my head forward and the guy grins and puts his hands on my hips. I move next to him. My dance is perhaps a little riskier than I'm used to, but I like being a little wild.
That last shot kicks in. I feel giddy as I stumble forward. He puts his hands on my shoulders and whispers something in my ear.
You're not getting lucky, I want to tell him, but I just giggle and push myself off. I turn my back to him and his hands find my hips. I'm too drunk to care, but when I feel his erection pressing into the small of my back, I decide that things have gone too far.
I look over my shoulder and shake my head.
"Come on, babe," he slurs. There's alcohol on his breath.
"I have someone," I slur back.
"I don't see a ring on your finger."
A ring? Oh God, I had so much less than that to go on. I didn't even know the fucker's name! But did it matter? Hell no! He was all I wanted. "I like him a lot."
"I can show you a better time, milaya moyna. I can be good to you."
Suddenly he seems too close. His eyelids are heavy as he looks down at me. His tongue darts between his lips as his eyes lose focus as they look at my mouth.
Oh shit. This was not going well. "I want to get back to the bar, it's worried about me. I mean, my friends." Wait, does that make sense? I decide to explain more. "They're like, all over the place."
The guy's eyes soften with concern. "If he liked you back,
milaya moyna, he wouldn't let you come to a place like this alone."
"I said not to call me that! I'm Soho Hoho, not Emilio Montana!"
"Sorry," he grins, and a dimple appears in his left cheek. "Babe."
My semi-drunk, fuzzy mind starts to get irritated. "Are you threatening me?"
"No, not at all. Just saying that someone as pretty as yourself is going to get hit on if you go out, and if I were your man, I wouldn't let anyone else get close enough to."
"Don't say that about him!" Raising my voice makes me unsteady on my feet. I teeter back and forth as I try to focus my attention on the man in front of me. What was it I wanted to say next? The lights above begin to sink in my peripheral vision, blurring as they spin. What is going on?
An arm snakes around my stomach, keeping me from falling.
I almost brush it off, but there was something familiar about it. I sink back into a warm chest, as a dark, glacial voice says, "Demetri."
A shiver shoots through my body. I know that voice; these arms.
Demetri's eyes go wide.
"She says she has someone," my masked lover purrs. He lowers his head and for the first time I feel his lips, or at least I think I do, soft and sensual, right below my ear.
I shiver again. I feel branded by that touch.
"I'm sorry," Demetri babbles. "I didn't--"
The masked man's lips leave my skin. My neck feels so cold in his absence. His grip on me tightens, and he says something in a language I don't understand. His voice is hard but the menace in his tone frightens me. Demetri goes white and completely still.
I feel my lover cock his head, and Demetri turns and leaves.
There are people all around us. Their bodies brush against ours, unaware of what just transpired. Even I don't know what just happened. I tighten my body, beginning to turn.
"Stop," the man behind me demands.
I stop.
His hand moves to the back of my neck. Hair spills over my shoulders. Through it, I feel his breath. "What are you doing here, solnyshko moyo?"
