“Oh,” I say. “That’s very cool, um…too.”
He nods and says, “If I’m going to do it, I’m going to do it right.” I bet you would.
“Uh huh…” I say. He holds my eyes for a charged moment, then takes a last drink of his beer.
“So it’s time to talk to the money guys. See if I can make it happen. Can I have another?” he says to the bartender as she passes us. The motion he makes with his fingers; I can’t help but stare at them.
“All you need is money then?” I ask, bite my lip, cross my legs.
“That and an artist,” he says. “I want the interface to be different, hip. So I’ve decided I need an artist to create something unique.”
All of a sudden I see it - the way he turns his head, the angle he holds it, he looks kind of like Ryan Gosling. That’s who I couldn’t place! “What’s your name?” I ask, with a smile.
“I’m Mark.” He reaches out to shake my hand. I reach out and slide my hand into his.
“Amber.”
JOSH
My Side, Dammit.
The first time I saw Amber… she was at a bar in SoHo with her girlfriends. The three of them looked like Fort Knox, where the money was – only you couldn’t get at it. That’s what it’s like when you’re a guy and you see women locked in a conversation you probably wouldn’t be interested in… and there’s no way they’d let you in it, anyway. Which of course changes your mind completely. Now you want to be involved. Heavily. The hunter in us, the Lion, wonders how we can get up the tree to get the Monkey.
No. Bad analogy. Women are not monkeys. They’re more like Gazelles (Although some of them are like Monkeys; the spazzy kind. We’ve all seen ‘em). Most though, are Gazelles… or will be Gazelles when they grow up.
So we the Lions wonder how we can get the Gazelle away from the group while still remaining the Lion and not deteriorating into a laughingstock Hyena. No man wants to look like a Hyena. Some men naturally are Hyenas, just like some girls are Monkeys, but when a Lion gets turned into a Hyena because the pack of Gazelles is too much for him, it ain’t pretty. You think, oh man, stop. Back away. Regroup. Leave your balls with them. Game over.
See this is my theory: we men are wild animals, tamed to varying degrees. The secret? How much we get tamed is up to us. Completely up to us. It’s more complicated than that, though. We’re not all Lions or Hyenas. There are other types, too, of course. Some examples are these:
· The hipsters are Meerkats; cute, skinny, harmless.
· The thicker football players or men who could be football players, judged on size alone – are Gorillas; powerful, primitive, calm when you feed them.
· Then there’s the bad boy types, they are Panthers; sleek, aloof, sneaky, sexy.
· Business, corporate-type men range from Water Buffalo to Sharks (not a mammal, but you know who I’m talking about).
· Pukes you shouldn’t meet alone in a dark alley are Hyenas; cowardly but dangerous, ugly on the inside.
· Men who can provide for their women are Lions; courageous, protective, leaders.
There’s a whole jungle and of course, I’m only scratching the surface.
I’m a Lion. And seeing Amber for the first time, I felt very much that I wanted her in my Den, to turn her from a Gazelle into my Lioness. She had to be by my side. For good. And I knew it the moment I saw her.
I was on the bar patio with a couple of friends, Gary and Matt, from my acting class at Stella Adler. We were attempting to drink away the reaming we’d gotten in class that night for shitty scene work. I was really down on myself about it, having just heard that one of our old classmates, Jake Lombardi, won an award at Sundance for an independent film he’d starred in. Since acting is my purpose in life – I will be a working actor one day and soon, I promise this – I couldn’t help but feel jealous of Jake. He’s such an ass. A Panther of the worst variety.
Matt, a conspiracy-theory-believing pessimist, said after our second round, “Makes a guy want to quit.” Hearing him of all people say that… well, it cleared my head. I’d been thinking the same thing, but because he’d said it – the guy who always sees the worst – I could hear how dumb it sounded. Two negatives make a positive.
I shook my head. “No, see that’s the thing! There can be no quitting!”
Gary frowned. He’s the quiet type who when he speaks, it means something.
Matt’s face scrunched up. “Why?”
“Look man, we have to be like athletes. They practice every day for hours and hours and hours – to be the best of the best. And when they lose a game, they get back up and work harder to win the next one. They don’t quit. If you want something, you have to give it your all.”
Gary nodded. “Josh is right.”
Matt, surprised by the rare sound of Gary’s two-cents, dropped his half-full beer on the concrete at our feet. “SHIT!” He bent down, and over his back, through the glass window, I saw her…Amber… for the first time. Looking at one of her friends, she’d smiled, and it lit up my world.
Matt stood back up, with an empty beer bottle, his hand covered in foam. “See,” he said, “Everything is shit.”
“I’ll get you another beer,” I said, and left them.
My opponents: A redhead, always trouble, and a lanky model, even worse.
I had only one chance. Maybe only a fraction of a chance. Maybe only a fraction of a fraction of a chance. I had to go for it. There was no other option but to dive right in and be the dominant.
Parting the crowd, I could see only her; that smile, those eyes, that dress. She pushed her hair away from her shoulder, revealing bare skin above a spaghetti-strapped blue dress. She was killing me. When she finally saw me approaching and we locked eyes, something happened; we both felt it. I know, because I saw her breath catch, the same time my heart stopped. The redhead turned. The model followed. I walked straight up to the three of them, my eyes only on her.
“Who are you?”
She was startled, plain as day. “I’m Amber.”
“No. You’re the color of the ocean; blue and gold and breathtaking.” I held my hand out, “I’m Josh. Can I talk to you for a second?” She looked to her friends, but I didn’t. I didn’t even flinch.
She cautiously slid her hand in mine. “Ummm…sure.”
I nodded to the Gazelles who would later be known as Jessica and Nicole. Nicole’s mouth was open and Jessica smacked her to get it shut, with hilarious timing. But I wasn’t in a laughing mood. I felt like I was floating.
I guided my Lioness to the far side of the multi-angled room until I found a space private enough for us to talk.
Amber, holding my hand, looked up at me, “What did you want to talk to me about?”
“Whatever you’d like to talk about. Tell me everything about you.”
“You’ve been watching me?” she asked, figuring this didn’t come out of nowhere.
“Yes.”
“From where?”
“You see that glass?” I pointed to the window in question. “It’s very clean.”
And bam, that smile came back to knock me on my ass. I looked at her mouth and saw the tip of her tongue sticking from between her teeth. My cock got hard in an instant and I was in trouble because I don’t wear shorts or briefs. Too confining. I’m a big guy and I like to free-ball. I’m not in my teens anymore so it’s usually under control, until I met her.
“Shit,” I said, looking away.
“What?” Her smile dropped. She looked around for what was wrong.
“No. It’s…” I didn’t continue. She was too much of a lady to look down; that was obvious. Since my cock wouldn’t listen – only had his eye on her – I had to think of something. I reached and moved her over so that she stood between me and the wall, with my back to the room.
“What are you doing Josh? Are you hiding from someone?” She looked around again. “Is your ex here, or something? That’s not okay with me.”
“No! God no. I…” She wa
s irritated, so I had to tell her. “I’m… uh… pitching a tent… and I don’t need the world aware of what you’re doing to me.”
Her eyes grew wide and she laughed, “What?!” She looked at my crotch.
“Stop looking. You’re making it worse.”
She covered her mouth with her hands, peeked up at my face, then back my crotch, over and over. “Oh my. Wow. Look at that.”
My face turned red. “Cut it out, Amber. Seriously.”
“Okay. I won’t look. I’m sorry.” She averted her eyes to the ceiling, which looked ridiculous. “So, what do you want to talk about, Josh? Any subject. I’m all ears.”
I thought she said I’m all yours, which was probably a projection. “You’re all mine?” I asked, searching her eyes.
She cast her eyes slowly back down to me. I waited, us looking at each other for what felt like two lifetimes now joined. She said quietly, “I think I might be.”
I held my hand out. “Let’s get out of here. You want to?”
She nodded the smallest nod. I weaved my fingers through hers and held on, turned and led her back to her friends.
When we got to them, they stopped their conversation, fast.
“I’m Joshua Chase.”
The redhead said through a surprised, small laugh, “Jessica Harper,”
“Nicole Henry,” came a voice like molasses. I would later find out Nicole was in fact not a model, which surprised the hell out of me.
“I’m taking Amber home with me.” Both of them reacted. I let go of Amber’s hand, reached into my pocket for my wallet and held out my driver’s license. “This is my name, like I said; Joshua Chase. And my address. Take a picture of it with your phone. I don’t want you to worry. She’s safe with me.”
Nicole took it, exchanged looks with Jessica and Amber, as Jessica took a picture, excited. Nicole handed it back, her face saying, what the hell, as she asked, “You okay with this Amber?”
“Uh huh,” smiled Amber, looking crazy-adorable.
“Have a nice night, ladies.” I took Amber’s hand again, nodded to her friends and led her out of there.
See? Lion.
We took the subway home and rode it with her straddling my lap, making out, completely oblivious to whoever might be looking. This is New York and after 1:00 a.m. you see this kind of shit all the time. But to be on the receiving end of it, is something else. Feeling the softness of her mouth, the curve of her lower back, her ass on my legs separated only by fabric – was the luckiest feeling I’ve ever had. It is a rare awesome kind of magic you feel with some people. If they could bottle it, the world would be a happier place. All men search for this feeling. Women don’t think we do, but we do. Until we have it, we’re wild. Animals searching for a purpose, domesticated by society only, with nowhere to put our wildness and no one to help us maintain dignity, but ourselves. We don’t always succeed at that. We want to pound our chests in the forest, howl at the moon, and call dominance over that which is ours. Making out with her on the train, I felt I’d found it. That thing. That feeling where I had a place for all the craziness we all work to control – a woman for whom I could be tamed and happy. Home.
On the walk to my place, we talked about where we’d come from, how long we’d lived in New York, how we both liked the changes in the weather and how it made us appreciate life more. Then we went into the stuff that makes us, us. How I crave hotdogs pretty much every time I see one of those stands everywhere in the city, because when I was a boy, my dad took me to baseball games and always bought me two. How she used to jump in puddles when it rained, no matter what shoes she had on; often making her mom upset and her daddy proud. How he’d wished she’d been a boy and was mean enough to tell her. How I had a dog named Sam after Lord Of The Rings. How she had a cat named Dog, because she’d wanted a dog, but her mom only liked cats. How she came to love the cat/Dog, despite herself. How my Sam ran away, and wasn’t loyal like in the book. How my mom had told me he had to take the ring back so we’d all be safe, just so I would stop crying. How she played with Barbie dolls in secret, since her father wanted her to focus on softball and not ‘girly bullshit.’
As we took to the stairs of my place Amber asked if I had a roommate. “No. I’ve got a studio. Got that so I didn’t have to have one.”
“Good,” she’d said looking back from two steps up. I saw her lipstick was gone and she looked kissed. By me. I opened the door and let her in first. She did a quick scan and spun around, her dress fanning out slightly, her long blonde hair following. Then she backed away, planted both feet and did something I’ll never forget. She lifted her arms up over her head. I froze, looking at her as she waited for me to take off her dress, hands high, bracelet fallen almost to her elbow. She tilted her chin down in a way that was unbelievably cute. I snapped a mental picture.
“What are you waiting for? An eclipse?” she asked.
“I’m waiting to wake up.”
“Well, that wouldn’t be much fun. Would it?”
I cleared the distance and wrapped my arms around her, lifted her dress up and off, kissed her long and deep, carrying her to my bed, with no intention of letting her leave, for days. I didn’t check out her body except with my hands, because I couldn’t stop kissing her long enough to look down. Neither of us could stop and our kisses were all over the map: Smooth. Rough. Hungry. Sweet. Deep. Loving. Lustful. Ferocious.
With grunts and gasps and groping, we locked and unlocked lips, lashed tongues, explored each other. I couldn’t breathe. I grabbed her tits, her hips, her ass, pulled her harder against me so I could eat her alive. She smelled like flowers and fruity shampoo, and underneath… she smelled like Amber. Her breath, perfect. No mints. Just her natural breath. I felt her hands on my belt buckle, the strap pulled through, the thing come apart. I was smiling. She grinned, kept opening up my pants. When she pulled down the zipper, I felt my cock throb harder as blood rushed into it, anticipating. When she reached her hand inside, felt that I was going commando, then wrapped her fingers – so soft – around my shaft, I moaned and closed my eyes. Lying there, I propped up on my left elbow, my right arm around her lower back. She slid her fingers to the base of me, then dragged them lightly all the way up the top with a little pressure from her thumb at the end. I shuddered.
“You’re so big,” she said.
A rush of pride swelled inside my chest. I know I’m well endowed, but still, every man loves to hear it. Every single one of us. She lifted her head, closed her eyes halfway, and gave my cock a squeeze as I kissed her. I growled into her mouth and she just laughed.
“Oh man, who the fuck are you?” I asked her, pulling her bra and panties off –wrestled her naked. I yanked off my shirt as we each kicked off our shoes. She bent up, kissing me as I reached to pull my pants and socks off. It was fucking awesome.
Skin on skin – her soft feet on the backs of my knees, her legs spread under me – I reached over, grabbed a condom and slid it on with some effort. I gnawed on her beautiful tits, the pointed pink nipples, and the soft flesh surrounding them. I pressed my lips all over them, one by one, licking them lightly with my warm tongue. She made my hard-on snap fuller when she moaned, harder than I remember it ever getting. My groin warmed from the heat of her body. My cock pressed against her inner thigh, wanting in. I moved up, grazed it along the soft pubic hair between her legs. I moved my hips, pushed open her legs wider with one of my knees, and felt the tip push her slightly open. She inhaled quickly, looked at me sensually and pressed her nails into my back. I winced from the sweet sting and slid the tip in. She was so tight and so fucking wet, I had to force myself to not cum as I lengthened and pushed deeper in. As her tongue played with mine, I dove in slowly, inch by inch. The muscles in my arms constricted and tightened as they held me above her so I could look at her. The veins in my legs pulsed. I relished all of it. As the last inch pressed in, she moaned loudly and writhed, stretching onto me. I dipped and locked my teeth on her neck, gnawing on it with slow press
ure. I felt the shudder of her pussy as it gripped me with the first clamping wave. I moved my hips around, my cock rubbing inside her and reached down with my hand, jammed it between our stomachs to vibrate her clit and stroke the outside of her pussy all over. She yelled out and moved against my stroking hand, riding my cock as she lost control of restraint. Bucking beneath me, she bent to the feelings, let them overtake her, closed her eyes, too. She whimpered in my mouth. “I can’t take it. Oh Josh, you feel so amazing.”
“Nothing compared to the way you feel,” I told her, rocking in and out of her as her hands found my ass and slid down to grab tight and push me deeper in her. “I’m gonna make you scream this time.”
Her breath caught in her beautiful throat over and over as I filled her, grabbing her hips and moving them so she rhythmically felt the waves returning to relieve the torture with bliss. “Oh my God. This isn’t happening. I’m cumming again!” I kept my pace, felt our bodies get slippery with sweat. I felt the orgasm building in me then, too – the sight of her moaning and glistening beneath me, gorgeous. Her neck exposed, her mouth open with beautiful moans of gratitude – it was too much for my cock to bear.
Every cell flamed up and I yelled out as I felt the first jerking rush pour out. True to my word, she screamed, taken on the ride my climax gave her. I grunted and yelled out again as I felt myself explode again and again, her pussy tightening, the ridges slamming me further into ecstasy. It lasted forever and not long enough.
I fell all of my weight onto her and the bed pushed in to make room. She kissed my shoulders and my neck while I rested, caught my breath – my face mashed into the comforter beside her. I turned to kiss her earlobe; exhaled satisfaction into it and gave it a tired little nibble. From out of nowhere – the surprise of a lifetime – she came again, screaming out, her sweet tight little pussy latching onto and nursing my wounded soldier. She revived it with two more gripping contractions. “Hold on,” I said, as she made an impatient moan. I pulled out, yanked off the condom, threw it aside and grabbed another to slap it on.
I Love My Side of the Story Page 7
