by P. J. Day
Holly paused for a second, but she didn’t answer. I didn’t know if she heard what I asked.
Her petite hand began to find its way into my shirt and began to knead at my pecs. Her fingernails lightly brushed my skin, giving me an electrical zing that traveled up my spine. “Mmm... pretty nice,” she said, her voice slightly muffled as she continued to feast on my neck.
Her constant prodding, poking, sucking, and licking was beginning to put me in such an aroused state, I knew that vulnerability would follow.
“Holly?”
“What’s wrong?” she responded, pulling her head away from my neck.
“Sweetie, I want you so bad, but...”
“...but what?”
Holly still had the glazed look in her eyes. Her mouth remained open, probably in disbelief that I had stopped her from further ravaging me in the cab.
I pointed at the cab driver, she immediately sat back and crossed her arms and pouted her lips. I then leaned in closer to her and said, “I want to do so many things to you right now, but let’s just wait for a little more privacy.”
The truth was that if Holly continued to voraciously consume every inch of my body, it would trigger a response in me that I knew I would regret. I had to test Holly out before I knew she would be comfortable with a moderate-sized bite to her beautiful neck during a moment of passion, and I also didn’t want to risk putting our cab driver in some sort of panic once he saw blood streaming down Holly’s neck, which is something, unfortunately, that I haven’t been able to avoid when feeding.
The cab stopped in front of Holly’s hotel. It was smaller than the Peninsula, but had a hip, trendy, modern art look that attracted younger clientele with money. I motioned the cab to stay put as I walked Holly by her hand up to the hotel’s glass doors. She looked up at me and gave me a thwarted look, a look so disappointed, that it could only come from someone who was turned down for the very first time.
“So, you’re not coming in?” she asked.
“You’re drunk; it just wouldn’t feel right.”
“How many times do I have to tell you this. I’m not drunk; I am fine. You’re not taking advantage of me. I am taking advantage of you,” she said, with a smile and a hint of irritation.
“I know, but maybe we should get to know each other a little more. What if I have some weird fetishes that you aren’t fully prepared to handle?”
Holly grabbed my hand and placed her other on the side of my face. “I’m prepared to let you do everything and anything you want to me. You want to tie me up? I’m game.”
“Anything?” I asked with flirtatious inflection.
Holly leaned in, giving me a sexy nod and a sensual bite of her lower lip.
“Anything,” she said, softly.
I gave the taxi a thumbs up. The cab’s tires produced a screech as it quickly accelerated away from the hotel’s pick-up and drop-off zone. He didn’t look too happy waiting a couple of minutes without receiving a tip.
Holly led me by the arm into the hotel, all the while giving me a look of indulgence. Better to let her take control than for me to seem too forceful. We walked into the elevator and she immediately pushed me up against the back of the elevator. I looked over her shoulder as she panted and heaved uncontrollably, kissing my neck while unbuttoning my shirt.
“What floor are you on?” I asked.
She snapped a number three with her right hand and fingers while being face deep into the skin of my chest. I then reached over her body and quickly pressed the third-floor button. I almost tipped over and took her down with me, which probably would’ve put us in a compromising position, quickly forgoing the slurping and grunting envelopment I found myself in.
The elevator doors opened and my shirt was down to its last button. Holly was pecking the area around my nipples, further inciting my inflamed and kindled state. She tugged my arm and led me to her door. I grabbed the Zeopirudin from my coat pocket and discreetly popped it in my mouth as Holly hurriedly opened her hotel room. As soon as we entered her room, she slowly pushed me down on her bed with her right hand while playfully telling me to wait with her left index finger. She pulled the straps of her dress away from her shoulders; her dress immediately and gracefully receded to the floor, instantly revealing her sublime figure; one that was statuesque in nature, a perfect muse for the world’s preeminent sculptors. She then got on her knees and arched her back, her upper body angling toward me. I was speechless. I misjudged her. Sure, she was sexy but never did I think she was overtly sexual. Big difference in my mind.
She began to unbuckle my belt as my outstretched grin straddled the line between youthful innocence and sexual deviance. Right as she placed her thumb on the button of my pants, she closed her eyes and grabbed her temples with her left hand. She paused; in fact, that is too much of a tame word that would describe Holly’s suspended state—it was, after all, the horrific end to a potentially amazing visceral experience. She leaned back and stuck out her hand, her palm might as well have been red and emblazoned with the word stop.
“I’m spinning... you... the room... it’s spinning.”
Of course, it had to end like this. The joyful anticipation I had of this trip to such a wonderful international city was now just a distant memory. First, I find out my company deceived me, then my best friend bails on me, and now the girl who I couldn’t stop thinking about since I first laid my eyes on her, is one hurl away from giving me the worst case of blue balls I’ve ever had.
“Oh God... Oh God... I’m so sorry, Jack,” Holly continued, kneeling over, supporting herself with one arm to the floor in her bra and underwear.
“I knew you had too much to drink,” I said.
I sat up and leaned toward her and started to massage her upper back.
“I shouldn’t have closed my eyes,” she said. “I always get sick when I close my eyes.”
Hoping not to sound like a smartass I added, “Yeah, well, it’s kind of hard not keep your eyes closed when you’re face-deep into someone’s body. Completely unavoidable.”
“Jack, that’s not funny.”
Holly covered her mouth, her face pulsating forward. She quickly got up and ran to the bathroom. I swiftly followed in tow. She lifted the toilet seat cover and let out the festering demons that toiled in her stomach. I did what any modern-day prince of gentlemanly stock would do in such a scenario; I held her head above the toilet, with both hands and looked away, keeping her hair from getting spewed on. Again, no reflection of myself in the large mirror. I just stared blankly at the opposite wall in the mirror’s reflection. Nothing to see, nothing to distract me from the horrific sounds of a gorgeous woman’s vomiting. I read the contents of Holly’s shampoo that was resting next to the sink, while hearing the acidic chunks of an $800 dinner splashing in the bowl of water below. Stearamdopropyl dimethylamine sounded cancerous; propylene glycol was probably miscarriage inducing; red 40—I thought it was made up of ground-up beetles. It was organic, at least.
“I’m so sorry, this is so embarrassing,” Holly said, in between hurls. I flushed for her between each hurl.
“Sweetie, it’s okay. We’ve all been here. Staring at toilets, vomiting your innards. I’ve been there, not because I was drunk though. I won’t get into it, but I can relate, you know?”
Finally, she must have thought she was done and washed her face and brushed her teeth. She swished with some mouthwash and took a deep breath.
“Better?”
Holly nodded, wiped her nostrils with a tissue and sat back against the wall adjacent to the toilet. She then covered her face with both hands. “This isn’t me. I hope you don’t think I’m some sort of lush.”
I sat down in front of her and held her hands.
“I don’t think you’re a lush. In fact, you were just trying to have fun tonight and I kept buying you drinks. I should’ve used better judgment.”
Holly looked up and gave me a puzzled look. She wiped a few tears from her eyes. “It was my decision;
don’t blame yourself.”
“Well, it looks like you got most of it out of your system.”
Holly smiled. Gingerly, she stood up and walked to the bed. I stayed in the bathroom for a couple of minutes and cleaned up the mess she left behind that didn’t make it down the bowl. I covered my nose in the process, my enhanced olfactory abilities didn’t take too kindly to the stomach acids of mortals. It was a step below the smell of death in my book. As soon as I was done cleaning up, I exited the bathroom right away and closed the door, so the lingering smell didn’t penetrate the rest of the room.
Holly lay still in her bed in the fetal position. She was slightly trembling. I lay next to her and covered her with a blanket. I noticed that her breathing was somewhat labored but nothing too extreme. As soon as I finished tucking her in, I stood up, picked up my belt, and started buttoning my shirt.
“Are you leaving?” Holly asked, slowly turning her head toward me.
“I’m not going to leave you in this state. I’ll just sleep in this nice, comfy chair.”
“Don’t be silly. Your back is gonna hurt if you do that.”
She coughed a little and gave me a cute smile. She patted the empty side of the bed. “You can sleep here tonight.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, of course.”
With slight hesitation, I lay down next to Holly. I draped my right arm over her warm body, and gave her a small peck on her head.
“Keep me warm.”
Her shivers and slight tremors subsided as I gently massaged her scalp.
Dawn was approaching. I could see an emergent glow through the curtained window. I closed my eyes and held a beautiful woman in my arms, without an urge to bite, without even a hint of lust, just the sudden and unfamiliar feelings of warmth and care for a person I barely knew. I’ll dabble in these feelings a bit. Yeah, just a dabble.
Chapter Four
I felt a deep, resonant pressure on my chest, my head, all down through my waist and my legs, the weight cemented me into the bed. Something held my lips apart, like tiny clamps. One by one, stretching and pulling on my cheeks. A shadowy oval hovered over my head, unknown at first, familiar on direct approach. Milton’s gleaming eyes were dark as onyx, as deep as the Mariana Trench.
“Hello, Jack. Sorry about your unsuccessful night.”
I couldn’t speak, since my tongue was wiggling freely in space.
“I want to apologize about the other night. It was, well, very, very messy.”
My panicked eyes, the only communication tools at my disposal, darted left to right, as I scanned for my exact whereabouts.
“Your friend is either an idiot or just too damn loyal for his own good.”
I tried yelling at Milton. Only sounds of incoherence and primal panic were produced, as I continued to be incapacitated.
“See, there is a giant miscommunication. I mean, I’m trying my best here. Scaring you like we did last time didn’t help. We attempted to marinate into your hopes, dreams, desires and all that did was send us down the wrong path. We tapped into your subconscious, learned a few things about you, but it has made matters worse,” he said in his squeaky child-like voice, but with the inflections of an intelligent man three times his age.
There was a faint melody beginning to play in the background.
“Ignore that, please!” Milton yelled as he rolled his eyes. “As I was saying, there is some potential here for a mutual benefit. We can tell you things that would change your life, and in exchange, you can tell us about the...”
The melody grew even louder, the lyrics repeating itself seemingly in a loop, ad nauseum.
“...dammit, stay with me, Jack. Listen, this can work...”
Surprisingly, Thom Yorke’s haunting snarls sounded extremely intelligible in my imprisoned state.
“Your REM cycle is a piece of shit; you know that? You average around a couple minutes of it and then it’s over. You wake up...” Milton stated in rapid frustration. He continued, this time, his voice trailing off, consumed and overtaken by the song. “The cormorant... the neck squeezed... stay away...” Milton’s voice first relegated to a dull faint, then to nothing, and suddenly, an overwhelming swoosh.
I woke up drenched. I coughed. My phone played Radiohead’s “House of Cards” for another five seconds, then it stopped. Sure as hell, I never chose that song as a ringtone. Holly slowly rolled over and with squinty morning eyes asked, “Everything okay, did you have a nightmare?”
“I hope so,” I said.
“God, my head,” Holly complained, grabbing her head and slamming it back down on her pillow.
My phone annoyingly rang again, potentially making me do the unthinkable to one of Radiohead’s most majestic tunes; deleting the fuck out of it from my phone.
I jumped out of bed. The clock said 7:15 a.m., way too early for my blood. It was Alan. Apparently, this was his third attempt at contacting me, judging from the little notifications given to me by the phone.
“Where are you?” he asked with a fevered pitch.
“Does it matter?”
“Yeah, well, I’m standing outside your room and you’re not answering your door. I also can’t hear your phone ringing. Did you leave?”
Alan’s tone was one of worry rather than the grumpy one I was accustomed to. I also was somewhat concerned that he was a few feet from Ted’s location.
“No, I’m still in Hong Kong.”
“Oh, I see,” Alan responded.
“What’s wrong? I don’t like the tone in your voice.”
“We need to meet with Guangzhou in Guangzhou this morning. Yi has business to attend to in Moscow tomorrow.”
“You know that’s not possible, right?”
“We made sure that our transportation has the darkest and most tinted windows; you’ll be fine.”
“Really?” I asked, deeply unsettled.
Yet another hurdle on this trip. Well, it was time to suck it up. I needed to be a goddamn warrior. What the hell was I thinking? I didn’t need to be one. I was an immortal warrior. No need to live in fear. I’d meet the sun head-on. Okay, maybe not head-on, but wrapped up like a mummy, with a little help from Holly’s wardrobe.
“So, can you make it back here in less than 20 minutes—actually, where are you right now?”
I covered the phone’s mic with my hand. “Sweetie, I’m sorry, but what’s the name of this hotel?”
Holly had covered her head with a pillow. Muffled, she responded, “L’Dino.”
“It’s called L’Dino,” I said to Alan.
“Do you look decent?” he asked.
“Yeah, I guess. Girls seemed to like what I was wearing last night,” I said, winking at Holly as she briefly uncovered herself from the brief respite that was the cold underside of her pillow.
“Also, Jack?”
“Yes?”
“I had a talk with Rebecca last night. I want to apologize for my behavior yesterday. Also, I want to apologize on behalf of the company for lying to you guys.”
“Dude, no problem. Stress messes with people’s heads sometimes. I was kind of out of line, too. I’m sorry as well,” I said.
I was pleasantly surprised by Alan’s abrupt change in demeanor. He came off extremely prideful yesterday. I guess he wasn’t a bad guy after all.
“We’ll be there to pick you up in 20. It’s a long drive; make sure you have your passport.”
Did I have my passport? I ran over to the chair where my coat was and quickly ran my hands through the pockets. Luckily, it was in one of the pockets inside the coat’s silk lining. “Got it!”
“Great, we’ll see you soon,” Alan said.
“See you. I’ll be waiting downstairs in the lobby in 15 minutes.”
There was no time to take a shower. I also had no toothbrush, cologne, aftershave, or deodorant at my disposal.
“Holly, is that okay if I borrow your deodorant?”
Holly snorted. “Sure, if someone asks how you remain so fre
sh, tell them it’s thanks to Cherry Mischief.”
I reluctantly applied the deodorant that I snatched from the nightstand. I then noticed a moderately sized black Panama hat laying on top of Holly’s carry-on bag, which was resting against the desk.
“Are you leaving me?” Holly asked as she raised herself in bed, hugging her pillow.
“Yup, that was Alan. There’s a change in plans.”
“I thought you couldn’t go out in the daylight?”
“I still can’t, without serious protection, which is why I’m going to politely ask you if you can please let me borrow that wonderfully stylish hat you have resting there,” I said, pointing at the hat.
Holly had this little elementary school girl chortle whenever I asked or did anything that was counter to my inherent masculinity. If she weren’t as attractive as she was, I would’ve probably been tired of it by now. I hoped, eventually, that she’d see that I was just a goofball at heart.
I wrapped my scarf around my face, put on my Ray Bans, and her Panama hat. Not flattering but functional.
Holly couldn’t stop laughing. “Go look at yourself in the mirror; you look like Jamiroquai and Elizabeth Taylor’s love child,” she said, hardly containing herself.
“Nah, I’m good. I’ll take your word for it,” I said sheepishly.
I then pulled the scarf away from my mouth and leaned into Holly as she lay in bed, grabbing her head and pulling her in for a big, wet kiss. She quickly put up her hands and pushed me away just a bit.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“My breath smells like vomit.”
“So what.”
“No, Jack. I can’t do that to you.”
She turned her head and pointed to her cheek. “Right here will be just fine.”
I gently pulled her in by her bare shoulder and gave her a sweet, uncontroversial, but caring peck. Holly then pulled me in closer, and started sucking on my neck sensually, and passionately. She gently pushed me away and stared deeply into my eyes.
