Bait

by M. Mabie

  Casey walked up to my brother, like he'd known him forever, and shook his hand. “It's nice to meet you,” he greeted. Then, as smoothly as he leaned in and kissed me on the cheek, he whispered, “You look pretty,” in my ear.

  Men don't say things like that to nobodies.

  Reggie said, “I'll see you later. Be careful.” He looked at Casey and said, “You be careful, too,” and walked away.

  His eyes were shining brighter than bluish-green gems under a jewelry case. It could have been the lighting in the grand entrance of my brother’s building, but I told myself it was something else. He tried to subdue his huge smile, but he couldn’t hide the expression in his eyes.

  “We have a lot to talk about,” he said. “Come on.”

  Casey held my hand in both of his and walked backward out the hotel doors and to the waiting cab like he couldn’t take his eyes off me.

  In the cab he'd look at my lips, then steal himself away grinning, just to do it all over again.

  Lips. Grin. Repeat.

  He was blissful and easy going, none of the stress in his face like earlier at the airport. His contented energy was contagious and put me at ease.

  I had a suspicious feeling I'd be falling asleep happy that night.

  Thursday, July 3, 2008

  SOMETHING TOLD ME IT would be a good night. I’d had a feeling she'd call.

  I couldn't get on the plane earlier. I'd made sure Aly had coffee and was all right. She actually gave me the hotel keys, and since we hadn’t officially checked out, I still had two rooms.

  After the day I'd had, the fantastic sale, dealing with Aly, and then the airport, I played it cool, but I was wired like someone cranked up the voltage in my spine. Blake and I didn't say much, but it was incredible having her next to me.

  She was fidgety on the way to the room and wasn't quite my Blake yet. She hadn't let her guard all the way down.

  I shut the door gently as we entered the suite. She paused in front of me just inside. We were only inches apart and her essence arrested me.

  “Why do I want you so goddamned bad?” I asked.

  She faced me. “I want you, too,” she replied vehemently. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” she stepped closer, “like this.”

  “I crave you.” My words tumbled out like apples off a poorly stocked produce shelf. Knowing she was affected, and wanted this like I did, made me bold. Made me feel gratified.

  So I did what I wanted. I picked her up and pressed her against the wall. Her legs wrapped around me and held on. She pulled my hair back and ran her fingers through it and along the top of my scalp.

  “We were just talking on the phone and texting,” she panted. Who was she trying to convince? I didn’t believe her for a second, but I went along.

  I dragged my nose up her neck, but our mouths still hadn't touched. She was intoxicating. “I know. We're friends.”

  “We're friends.”

  It had been too damn long since I'd seen her. I'd made too many deals with the Devil for this exact moment to pretend it didn't mean everything that it did to me. “You know what?” I asked daringly. “Honestly, I don't really care what you call it. I want you. Text. Call. In the flesh. I can’t tell you what you think you want to hear. So I won’t, but I'll tell you everything else. Everything I know you want to hear. How badly I want you. Now. Up against this wall,” my hips flexed into hers, “and we'll sort our friendship out in the bathroom in twenty minutes. Because right now, I want inside of you. It's been a long day.”

  I didn't need her to tell me she wanted it, too. It was written in pink on her nose.

  “Put me down,” she panted. I let her slide down the wall, but I held her tight around the hips. “Now take my clothes off,” she instructed.

  “With pleasure.” She didn't have to ask me twice. I pulled her shirt over her head and had her bra off in seconds. She lifted my shirt off while I undid her button fly. I had to stop to wrestle my arms through my shirt as she pulled it away from me.

  We were hands and legs and arms and stomachs and knees, and all of them were frantically knocking into each other.

  When there were no more pants, no more shirts, and no more barriers between us she said, “Okay, now do whatever you want.”

  That was a tall fucking order.

  First, I really wanted to kiss her. I cupped her cheeks and brought our mouths together.

  She tasted like toothpaste and Blake. Her tongue found mine, and a moan escaped from her mouth into me. “So help me, God, that sound drives me crazy,” I said with what little breath I had. Then she did it again and I smiled through our kiss.

  I hoisted her up like we were before. I held her in my arms. Her legs circled my middle. I pushed her flat against the wall, with only my hands acting as a barrier to ensure the wall didn't hurt her beautiful skin. Her hands touched me feverishly. They were in my hair and on my back. They roamed my chest and held my face as we reconnected.

  When my hand found her already wet she moaned again and that was all she wrote.

  I lifted her up a little higher, and then set her down on top of my greedy cock. I moved into her against the wall like I was trying to push us through it. It wasn't gentle. It wasn't slow. Not this time. I couldn't wait any longer to hear her say my name, to feel her tighten around me.

  She moved with me and it only stood to encourage my pace. Every inhale and exhale matched time with my thrusts, until I felt her beginning to grind down harder on my upstrokes.

  “Ahhh,” she panted into my neck. “Yes.”

  “It feels good. Doesn't it?” She didn't have to answer by saying anything, her body agreed for her. Her hold on me tightened and she arched her back. Her pretty brown hair fell off her shoulders as she let her pleasure overcome her.

  She shouted, “Casey. Oh. Casey.”

  As soon as I felt her milking me for every drop I had, I couldn't hold back any longer. Simply said, there wasn't anything in the world that felt like Blake coming on my dick. It's the type of feeling that men start wars and write songs about.

  “Blake, fuck. Fuck!” I moaned and my climax shot through me in powerful hot bursts.

  She kissed my neck as I stood there holding her for minutes, still buried as deep inside of her as I could possibly be.

  She laughed. It was a most-satisfying sound.

  “Shit.” I breathed, with my head resting on the wall to her side.

  She giggled again. “I know.” Then she bit me.

  I forgot that Betty was playful after sex.

  We washed up in the bathroom, and I tossed her a long sleeveless T-shirt to wear. It was perfect. The armholes hung down to her waist and anytime she'd move to one side or the other, it would swing wide and I could see one, or both, of her sexy breasts peek out.

  I think when my mom asks me what I want for Christmas this year I'm going to ask for a Blake calendar. And a picture of her in that moment would be my July. I hoped I would get a chance at a good photo op for August and all the months thereafter, too.

  Before the thought escaped me I asked, “Can I take a picture of you?”

  She was twisting her hair back off her neck, the underneath still damp from sweat. “I don't think that is a good idea.”

  I smacked her ass on the way out of the bathroom. “Well I think it is a very good idea. Probably one of my best.” I strolled my way to my phone that was still in the pocket of my shorts on the floor.

  “Tell me how she got my number first,” she said following me, barelegged, no panties, back into the bedroom area of the suite. “I need to know.”

  Oh, yeah. That. She made a good point for concern. Aly picked my phone up and had her way with it. I knew she went through my phone when I was in the shower. I had a weird feeling about it when I found it on the table, remembering that I’d tossed it on the bed. I didn't know exactly what had happened, but I could tell her what I knew for sure.

  “I'd like to start with that girl. That girl is Aly. We dated for a while, if you reme
mber when we met, I was breaking up with her? I've known her a long time. She works for Bay Brewing, too. Her father is the owner. Well, I'm sort of going to own part of it too, and so will she.”

  Blake sat down on the edge of the bed, listening and paying close attention.

  “She was on the trip with me because her dad wanted her to get more experience in front of customers. That was why she was with me. She checked us in and had my spare key. When I was in the shower she came in, found my phone and read our messages. That's how she got your number.”

  Her face looked contemplative.

  “Well, it isn't my business really. I didn't like her contacting me. She wasn't very nice.” I didn't want to ask her what was said. I wanted our night to stay upbeat and fun. I had a feeling that we'd only have a precious few hours.

  “Don't worry about her. I talked to her about it. It won't happen again.” I'd make sure of that.

  “You know I can't be mad if you have a girlfriend. It wouldn't be fair,” she said and her face brightened. “Hey, you might be polyamorous,” she said very matter of factly, as she scooted her way to the head board of the king-sized bed. She patted the spot in front of her, her brown eyes looking luminous.

  “I'm not polyamorous.” A laugh sprang from my gut just saying the word. It was so out of the blue. I was anything, but polyamorous. “Why would you say that?” I laughed and stretched across the bed in front of her. She leaned forward on her elbows to talk to me. I could see down the front of the shirt.

  My old tank was now my favorite article of clothing on the planet.

  She bit her nail, one of her tells, “I don’t know. I thought that might help.” She thoughtfully ran the hand—the one she wasn’t using as an appetizer—over my forehead and over my hair. She was always touching the mess on my head. If she only knew what it did to me.

  Her body language said she was slipping back into a place where she wasn’t comfortable with her thoughts. I didn’t like it, so changed conversation lanes.

  “Did you know that nail-biting is called onychophagia?” I asked, turning the conversation back to a neutral topic. I'd learned that my retention of useless knowledge really did serve a purpose. It relaxed this girl.

  “I didn't know that, thank you. You're changing the subject. I wanted to know about your phone in exchange for some pictures. I think that needs wrapping up.” Her blush spread over her cheeks and she looked down at her hands. She probably wanted to bite her nails, although there wasn't much left.

  “Well, I told you everything I know about how she got your number. What else can I say?”

  “Well, if you take dirty pictures of me, and anyone can just pick up your phone, then others will see them. Possibly send them to other people. It could be quite embarrassing.” I laid back, crossways on the bed and she moved her legs so that they lay over my chest. I ran my hands up and down her skin. It was smooth, but not bare, more like a cat's tongue. It was more perfect than if they'd been perfectly shaved.

  “You bring up another very good point. We wouldn't want that to happen. I suppose I'd have to install the locking feature on my phone.” There. Problem solved. If only they would have all been that simple.

  “Yes, I think you should.” She looked at me with a face that read “anytime now.”

  I looked up and saw it sitting on the table next to her. “Hand it to me then.”

  She passed me the phone and I slid the slider over to activate it. I poked around until I found the right settings option. It was ready. All I needed was a four-digit pass code. I looked at the numbers and knew what it should be.

  2-2-4-8.

  B-A-I-T.

  “Did you set it?” She leaned over on her elbow.

  “Yep.” I handed it to her. “It's locked. Like Fort Knox. No one’s getting in that baby.”

  She took it, tapped it a few times and laughed, tossing it back onto my chest.

  “That was easy.” The woman got it on the first try. “Good guess.”

  “Good password.” She made a production of fanning her hair out and she lay back on the pillows. “I'm ready for my close up, Mr. Moore.”

  I got close up indeed.

  The next day was the fourth of July and I wanted to spend it with her. “What are your plans for tomorrow?” I asked as I prepared myself to leave the bed she was in and go to the other room.

  “I don't know. I don't really have any. There are a few work things I could do, and I have to work a show on Saturday with my boss.” She curled tighter into my side and nuzzled her face against my chest. “This feels good,” she said softly. I could hear the sleep in her voice. She had every reason to be tired. I wasn't keeping count, but I'm pretty sure she had a handful of orgasms.

  “I think you should spend the holiday with me,” I said, as I ran my hand through her hair, root to tip over and over.

  “That's right, it's the fourth.” She looked up at me, her brown eyes looked almost golden up that close. “I don't know. Holidays are important.”

  “I'm very patriotic,” I playfully assured her.

  She deliberated. Her mouth twisted to the side, and her eyes looked out into space somewhere off to the left. “Well, okay then. Since you're very patriotic and I am too, then we should spend the day together. It just makes the best sense.” Then she laid her head back down on my chest. One of her fingers traced a wide circle across the bridge of my sternum. Over my peck, around and back. It was probably a bull’s-eye.

  As soon as was sure that she'd fallen into a deep sleep, I snuck off to the other room.

  I wanted to stay and sleep with her. I really did, but it made every morning I didn't wake up with her in my arms extra shitty. I hoped she’d understand.

  A cruel reminder that she wasn't mine on a daily basis, well not in reality, was really getting to me. I was focused, though. There was something undeniable slowly pulling us together. I had to believe she felt it too and that it would all work out.

  Nothing felt more right than when I was with her.

  Friday, July 4th, 2008

  NOTHING FELT QUITE AS perfect as falling asleep in Casey's arms. I slept like I hadn't in weeks. But waking up to find the spot next to me empty sucked.

  I found my phone and sent a quick message to Reggie.

  Me: I'm fine. I'll see you later.

  I didn't need him worrying. I was shocked at how okay he was with my behavior in the first place. Any rational person would chastise me for my actions.

  It was true, Reggie never had anything too positive to say about Grant. He wasn't ever mean or rude or blatantly said he didn't like him or that I should leave him, but it was pretty clear he wasn't impressed, in the least, by my boyfriend.

  Fiancé.

  Getting up to see what kind of shape I was in, I saw that there was a note written on the hotels stationary sitting on the bathroom counter.

  I climbed back into the jeans and T-shirt I'd worn over the night before and washed my face in the sink. He'd left his toothbrush there, and so I took the liberty of borrowing it. My hair was a fine disaster and between my legs was gloriously tender. I felt incredible.

  When I got to the room, which was right next door, I heard Casey talking on the phone as he approached the door to answer my knock.

  “...Audrey, calm down. You can always drop the class if you don't like it.” He opened the door and gave me a chaste kiss, and then held up a finger to tell me he would be another minute.

  “Well, Dad can get over it. Take the classes you want. It's your life.” Then he listened for a few minutes and walked over to the window to finish his call. All he was wearing was cargo shorts and they were hanging so low I would bet money he didn't have underwear on beneath of them.

  There were two trays on the table and I could smell the coffee from where I stood. My stomach growled. I looked under both covers and they were the same. A stack of pancakes with whipped topping, strawberries and blueberries made to look like a flag.

  He watched as I discovered the brea
kfast and put his hand over the receiver and said in a hushed voice, “See? Patriotic,” as he pointed to himself. He then pretended to be serious as he whispered to me, “Blake, I eat those every morning.”

  I put my hand over my mouth and giggled.

  “I love you, too, Audrey. Don't stress out. Go have some fun. Tell Morgan to call me... Okay. ’Bye.” He ended the call and took a seat across from me at the table.

  “I like these pancakes.”

  He said, “I thought you would. I like when it when you smile like that.”

  “Then keep making me.”

  And then he did.

  We left our phones off and walked for hours. We ate hot dogs and stopped to watch street performers in front of The Bean in Millennium Park. We talked about our families and jobs. He bought us ridiculous Uncle Sam hats and we wore them the rest of the day.

  We ate at a bar on The Pier and watched fireworks over Lake Michigan. We drank and laughed and kissed.

  He was freedom and throwing caution to the wind. He was no work and all play.

  We held hands on the sidewalk and in the cab as we rode back to my brother's building. When the car pulled up outside, he got out with me, walking me to the glass doors of the entrance.

  “Today was a very good day,” he told me. I agreed that it was.

  “So now what?” After the day we'd had, I was even more confused and heavy-hearted parting with him. His face was tinted red from the sun and his eyes looked more like deep blue than I'd even seen.

  His face changed from the easy-going, carefree Casey with the permanent grin, to a more mature-looking sober one.

  “That's all up to you, honeybee. I'm free.” He wrapped his arms loosely around me, low on my back and we swayed back and forth on the sidewalk holding a stare that was loaded. Loaded with ‘should we's and ‘shouldn't we's. Loaded with pleasure and reality.

  We lived far apart.

  He traveled more than not.

  I was engaged to someone else and no matter which way I looked at it, I couldn't keep him for myself. It was too selfish.