by J. J. Bella
"Someone's got a case of the hard-on-herselfs," said Anna, flashing a smile over her shoulder. "I swear, my little Mary-quite-contrary, if I accomplish one thing during our time together it's going to be to get you to realize what a fit girl you are."
Before I had a chance to respond, we arrived at the art gallery. Through the glass window, I saw a swanky interior packed with young, hip twenty-to-thirty somethings, all milling about, looking at the art as they talked to one another and sipped their wine.
"Now, here we are," said Anna, taking one last look into her compact. "Shall we?"
"I guess we shall," I said, my stomach tightening.
Anna pulled open the door and we stepped in. Right away, everyone seemed to drop whatever they were doing and flock to Anna like she was some kind of celebrity. I knew that she was becoming something of a name in her art scene, but I'd never seen her in her natural habitat like this; everyone was acting like the Queen had just strolled in. Anna seemed to lap up the attention, her face beaming as she said her hellos.
Once she'd finished, she made her way back to me and ducked away from the crowd.
"Friends of yours?" I asked.
She rolled her eyes.
"Hardly," she said dismissively. "I had a piece that made something of a splash a few weeks ago and now all of these art scene dweebs are acting like they're my best friend. They'll move on to the next big thing soon enough."
We weaved through the crowds of sometimes outlandishly dressed art scene types, their eyes flicking from me to Anna to back again. Eventually, we came upon a group of four painfully stylish men and women. These were, apparently, the friends that we were going to be spending the evening with. One look at them and I felt so painfully uncool that I wanted to crawl into a hole and die, scolding myself all the while for leaving the flat.
Sure enough, the four of them all had the same disaffected air, and none of them seemed terribly interested in getting to know me better. Anna fell into a casual rapport with them and together, the six of us made our way through the gallery.
The art was…something else. To say that it was abstract would be putting it mildly. There were the standard pieces that looked like someone haphazardly flicked paint onto a canvas, there were sculptures that appeared to be made out of random bits of trash, and there was even something that incorporated…ladies toiletries in the making. The less said about that, the better.
In fact, the art was so grotesquely appealing that I eventually found myself lagging behind Anna and her friends. Once I realized that I'd lost them, I stopped in place and scanned the crowd for any sign of where they'd gone off to. The crowd was thick with gallery goers, and I couldn't spot hide nor hair of any of the group. My heart began to race; I was envisioning some nightmare scenario in which Anna's group had determined that I was far too uncool to be seen with them, and the faster that they could lose me, the better.
But before I could worry for too long about that, a deep, resonant voice spoke from just behind my left shoulder.
"Now, I don't know about you, but I have a hard time believing that any of this could be called ‘art'."
I turned on my heels, looked up, and was greeted with the sight of what had to be the most good-looking man that I'd ever seen in person.
To say he was "stunning" would be putting it mildly. The man who stood before me was like something out of a dream. He had dark blonde hair with hints of black, the style wet-looking and slicked back. His eyes were a sparkling, cutting blue and were narrowed in a manner that made them look almost scheming. His lips were red and sensual, their color a striking contrast against his fair skin. His tall, towering frame was clad in a black suit, his crisp white dress shirt underneath opened and hinting at the well-built, cut body beneath.
Looking back, I'm sure that my eyes were wide in shock at the stunning man who now stood tantalizingly close to me. I'm actually a little surprised that I didn't faint right then and there.
My mouth opened and shut like a fish out of water, and I could barely stand, let alone speak.
"Take this one for example…" he said in the silkiest, posh accent that I could imagine, an accent that almost seemed pulled out of time from the nineteenth century.
All I could do was nod along to his words as he gestured to the painting in front of us, which appeared to be a crudely-drawn nude woman framed with an eye-aching palate of reds and yellows.
"…we see here that it's meant to be a deconstruction of the masculine gaze, a commentary on the intersecting nature of sexuality, politics, and capitalism."
"Mhmm," I murmured, finally able to make some noise at all.
"I, however, think it looks like something a horny teenager doodled on the back of a sheet of paper during maths."
A clumsy little chuckle sputtered from my mouth.
"Or this one," he said, leading me over to a sculpture that was nothing more than a tiny shopping cart packed full of empty food packaging. "There's a reason we have to have a little rope around it; someone might mistake it for rubbish and toss it out otherwise."
I laughed again, a little louder this time. And when I did, I couldn't help but glance around me, worried that someone might be listening in and take offense. This man, on the other hand, didn't seem to give a damn if anyone heard him. Indeed, the sly little expression on those perfect lips of his seemed to suggest that he would've enjoyed riling up one of these pretentious artist-types.
"And you think you could make something better?"
I was a little shocked at my confrontational words, as joking as they were. But something about this man seemed to invite playful bantering. He titled his head to the side for a brief moment as he considered my words.
"Now, I'm not exactly the artist type, but I am of the opinion that art should celebrate beauty, not mock it."
He stepped closer to the crude drawing of the woman and gestured towards it.
"See, this does nothing to really pay homage to the subtle beauty of women."
"Subtle, huh?" I asked, stepping closer to the man and tilting my head to look at the art in the way that he was. "And what sort of subtlety might that be?"
"Well, take a look at you, for example," he said, turning his attention back towards me.
I felt hot under the gaze of those piercing blue eyes, like some woodland creature caught in the hunting stare of a predator. The playful smile on his lips, however, put me a little more at ease.
"What about me?" I asked.
"Well, take the shape of your lips for example," he said, his eyes drifting down to the lower half of my face. "A perfect Cupid's Bow. To capture a detail like that, you need the careful hand of a master."
My heart was pounding in my chest. He was coming on hard and fast, and I had no idea what to do with myself.
"And that's not even getting into your…other features."
I felt like I might faint at any moment. But before the conversation could progress, I heard a familiar voice behind me.
"There's my little miss Mary," called out Anna as she stepped to my side. "You gave me a little fright, dear. I was worried I'd lost you."
"Nope, just here," I said.
"I see you've met our resident art expert," said Anna, her playful tone suggesting that she knew the man.
"We actually hadn't," he said, extending his hand towards me. "Samuel Huntington. But you can call me Sam."
I took his hand, which was smooth and warm.
"Pleased to meet you," I said, his touch sending something like electricity through my body. "Mary Metzger."
His eyes stayed locked on mine as we shook hands. It was like nothing I'd ever felt before.
"Well," said Anna, "it's good you two met, since we're going to the bar where he works after this."
His bar? I was a little surprised to hear this. He was so smooth and well-dressed that I'd just assumed he was a banker or something.
"Yes, I'm going to be using my ever-so substantial clout to get this merry little gang in without a cover."
"Truly a man of earth-shaking influence, as you can see," said Anna with a wry grin.
"Hey," said Sam, that smart-alecky smile not leaving his face, "if you want to pay the ten quid, be my guest. All comes out of daddy's pocketbook anyway, right? That is, if the doorman would even let you in."
Anna gave him a playful jab to the arm. And as strange as it sounds, I couldn't help but wonder if these two had hooked up before.
Careful, Mary, I thought. Let's not get possessive over the man I just met.
"Anyway, I'm about ready to get moving," said Anna. "Shall we?"
"Ready whenever both you lovely ladies are," said Sam.
"Um, sure," I said, still having a hard time speaking.
"Then let's not waste another moment," said Sam, his eyes still fixed on me.
We gathered up the rest of the group and piled into a pair of cabs. Sam made sure to get into mine, and the feeling of his body pressed tight against mine as we made our way to the club was…something else. I couldn't believe the effect this man I just met was having on me. Soon, we arrived at the bar, which was more like a nightclub. Crowds of men and women dressed to the nines were gathered out front, and I could feel the bass of the music through the car.
As we piled out, I saw that there was a long line snaking from the front door, where a beefy bouncer was giving everyone the once over before determining whether or not to let them in. I couldn't help but feel nervous at this, wondering if I was going to be deemed cool or attractive enough to be let in. However, before I could worry about it for too long, Sam took the lead of our little group and led us to the front door. The bouncer recognized him, a friendly smile spreading across his hard face as he gestured for us to head on in.
Sam took the lead, and we entered. The club was a massive place with dark lighting, booming music, and crowds of people packed onto the dance floor. A large square bar was in the middle of the space, and Sam made his way to it as we entered. I followed along, feeling more than a little overwhelmed by the scene. And as we made our way in, Anna gave my rear another hard slap. Already on edge, I nearly jumped out of my skin.
Sam returned with a tray of drinks and led the group towards a big table. We took our seats around it and Sam passed out our drinks.
"Special of the house," he said.
I took a sip of mine, and the boozy, flavorful concoction tasted heavenly. Though this just could've been because my nerves were so jangled that anything to calm them down was welcome.
"I don't know about you all, but I'm ready to dance," called out Anna over to the nearly deafening din of the club.
"Same here," said Sam.
The rest of the group seemed to agree, and they all filed out onto the dance floor, disappearing into the crowd. I watched from the sides, being the wallflower that I normally was in situations like this. I couldn't help but look for Sam in the crowd, my eyes locking onto that golden hair of his. I watched as he flitted through the crowd, glad-handing and saying his hellos to the throngs of people who all seemed to know him.
A creeping feeling of not fitting in filled my stomach, and as I brought the straw of my drink to my lips and took a sip, I realized I had no idea what to do with myself. I wasn't exactly a dancer, and the place was just too loud for any sort of conversation.
Before I could get too far into my own head, however, Sam emerged from the crowd, his eyes locked on me. Without thinking, I drained the rest of my drink down before he could close the distance between us. That same playful smile on his lips, that same sly look in his eyes, he grabbed my hand and pulled me into the nest of dancers. At first, I was totally lost- I always was unsure of myself in these types of situations. But Sam was happy to take the lead. He put his hands on my hips and began to dance.
"Just follow my lead," he said, bringing his lips tantalizingly close to my ear.
A smile formed on my lips, and I did just that. I let Sam move me to the pulsing beat of the music, and within seconds I was dancing happily along to the music. As the song went on, the alcohol swirling through my veins, I allowed myself to relax and the music to take me away. Sam brought me close to that solid body of his, the feeling of his hands on me simply sublime. The music carried me away, and I found myself pressed against him, my eyes closed as I focused on the feeling of his body against mine and the music all around me.
The time flew by, and by the time I was able to check my phone, I saw that nearly two hours had passed. I couldn’t believe how much fun I was having.
I was getting carried away, and I loved it. Sam was incredible; I was completely entranced by him in a way that I could hardly understand, let alone explain. There was something here…something special; I already knew it.
He turned me in place and as I faced him his cool, blue eyes stared right into mine. But it was different now- instead of feeling small I felt something else, something more charged with…something. I stared back into his eyes as I looked up at him, and he responded by pulling my body close. Then, he leaned close and spoke into my ear once again.
"Feel like a little break?"
I came a little back into the moment, and realized that this did sound nice. I nodded in response.
"Come with me," he said.
We left the dance floor, stopping by the bar. Sam grabbed two glasses of something sparkling and jerked his head for me to come with him. We made our way to a door towards the back of the club that appeared to be off-limits to non-staff. Sam opened it, revealing a tall stairwell. When the door shut behind us music quieted to a low, bassy roar.
"I can usually handle about fifteen minutes of that at a time," he said, now able to speak at a normal volume.
"I can usually handle about two," I responded.
"Well," he said, leading me up the stairs, "I'm glad I could bring that out of you."
We went up and up, traveling about five flights. Once at the top of the stairwell, we reached a service exit.
"Allow me to show you one of the things that makes working here worth the headaches."
With that, he opened the door, and I let out a gasp when I saw what he revealed. It was London, spread out before us. The curving lines of the road were illuminated with orange light, the London Eye towered in the distance, and the dark waters of the Thames cut gently through it all. It was a beautiful scene.
"Quite the view, huh?" he asked, walking out to the end of the roof and taking a seat on the edge.
"It's…amazing," I said as I stepped carefully towards Sam.
My stroll was slow; it was almost as if I felt that I was in a dream and the slightest jostling would wake me from it. I placed my hands on the edge of the roof and took in the scene. It was like nothing I'd ever seen before. It was the London from my dreams.
"You come up here a lot?" I asked, taking the drink that he offered.
"Whenever I can," he said. "Whenever things get a tad bit too chaotic down there, it helps to know that I've got a nice little respite whenever I want it."
"I think I could live up here," I said, my voice heavy with wonder.
Sam chuckled.
"I wouldn't recommend that come winter," he said.
I sat down next to him, the heat of his body a lovely contrast to the slight chill in the air. We both sipped our wine in silence, enjoying the breathtaking view. By the time I was halfway through my glass, the wine had long since gone to my head. I felt that familiar swirl of alcohol, and I was ready to let myself be taken away by it. And it didn't hurt one bit that there was a gorgeous man next to me. It was hard for me to decide just where I wanted to look.
"I hope this is everything that an American girl in London could hope for," he said, his eyes now on me.
"More than that," I said.
"Happy to give this to you."
I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could say a word, Sam turned towards me, took my chin into his hand, and planted a gentle kiss on my lips. I was so shocked that I nearly dropped my glass. Part of me felt that I should protest, that I shou
ld come up with some reason why kissing him wasn't the smart thing to do.
But the longer his lips remained on mine, the less I cared about anything else.
I returned his kiss, opening my mouth slightly and allowing his tongue to slip into my mouth. He tasted wonderful, like wine and sensual musk. We kissed like this for a time, our bodies moving closer together by the second. Soon, our hands were all over one another, exploring each other’s bodies as our kiss grew more passionate by the second. His hand slipped under my shirt, and mine into his, Sam's body delightfully solid under my touch.
I barely even noticed as he brought me down to the floor of the roof and prepared to do what he knew I wanted. And as he lay me down, his hand slowly making its way up my bare thigh, I somehow knew that my life was never going to be the same.
CHAPTER 2
MARY
Two months later…
"Fuck!" I shouted. "Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck!"
I jumped out of bed, scrambling to find my clothes. Sam's room, as always, was a goddamn mess. As I looked over the piles of his clothes that lay here and there, some clean, some dirty, all impossible to tell apart, I knew my chances of gathering together the articles of clothing I'd thrown off last night during the midst of another one of our drunken bouts of passion.
"What's the deal, darling?" asked Sam, rolling over in bed and giving me a look at his bare, chiseled body.
I wanted to stop and stare, but I didn't even have a moment for ogling.
"My Poli-Sci final," I said, darting a hand into one of the piles and pulling out my bra and panties. "It starts in less than an hour, and campus is forty minutes away.
"Oh," said Sam, seemingly not bothered by this new information. "Just call a taxi and be done with it."
I couldn't help but scowl at this. Sam's blasé attitude and inability to be flustered by anything was definitely one of the traits that I'd grown to appreciate during this whirlwind little courtship of ours. But sometimes, I had to admit, his lack of concern for the schedules that most of the world lived by could set me on edge, especially in a situation like this. Not to mention I'd already spent far more money than I was happy with over the last two months on last-minute cab rides like this.
