After Effect

by Leann Belle

  “Right! I knew I brought you all the way out here for a reason” that didn’t involve getting you into my bedroom. I had completely forgotten about the song. “I wanted to run this new song by you and see what you thought.” I took a seat at the foot of my bed, just a few feet away, while his eyes poured over the page.

  “It’s rubbish.” He shook his head, barely giving my notes a second glance. Rubbish?! He reached for a pen and started crossing out lines and scribbling some alternates. Instantly, he was no longer ‘Finch, the cute and flirty lush,’ but ‘Finch, the serious music industry professional.’ He spoke while he wrote. “It lacks any subtlety. You sound more like a stalker than a seductress. Try this instead.”

  Finch tossed me my notebook, and I looked over his changes.

  How long are you going to sit outside?

  Are you hoping I might notice?

  Because you’re all I’ve seen for months now.

  Why do we keep pretending there’s all this space between us?

  “I was guessing on your beat.” Finch was studying my expression as I read. His confidence never wavered. I was actually a touch jealous of the kind of arrogance that could sit down, scrawl off the first words that came to mind, and unapologetically own them. He just knew that anything he came up with would be worthwhile.

  And what made it so enviable was that his confidence wasn’t undeserved. As I sang the words to the tune in my head, they were perfect. He literally stared at a page, half drunk, half asleep, and for half a second, deduced the cadence, and fixed every issue in the prose with a single stroke. I slaved for a week on that draft. I kind of wanted to hate him for making it look so easy.

  “What do you think?” His eyes and that cocky upturn to his lips said he already knew the answer. My face had surely given it away already.

  “How did you get so good at this?” I asked flatly.

  “Sing it for me.”

  “I’m pretty tired. Maybe in the morning.” The thought of performing on the spot was enough to get my nerves flaring again.

  “I won’t be able to sleep until I’ve heard it.” He shook his head in protest. “I’m going to be tossing and turning and thinking about it all night.”

  Knowing Finch will be sleeping so close to me, I wish something that simple was what was going to have me tossing and turning all night. “I haven’t even gotten to rehearse it yet.”

  Finch let out a sigh, got up, and sat beside me on the bed. He leaned into me just slightly as he ran a finger over the page. “I’ll walk you through it. Give me the beat.”

  It’s similar to my heart right now. I leaned into him, too. “I used this line when I was imagining it. Like:

  ~Hold me

  Close

  To

  You.~

  I couldn’t help it anymore. Is it okay if I take just a little? My hand brushed his lower back, following his spine through his suit. His muscles tensed at my touch initially, but then he relaxed into it. My heart beat faster. My voice steadied. The melody was more clear than ever. I could feel the words in my chest.

  ~Don’t move

  Til

  We’re

  Through~

  I made it up to his neck. He was watching me intently, his eyes boring into mine. But he wasn’t pulling away. I inched my lips just a little closer. I just wanted to get close enough to feel his breath. That’s all. I wasn’t going to do anything.

  ~No one else can have you.

  You know I don’t like to lose.

  I’ll chain you to my headboard---~

  Finch closed the gap in an instant and pressed his lips onto mine. Wet, hot, and eager. He smelled like sage, and he tasted like whiskey. He stole my words and he stole the last of my ability to resist him. He held me to him with desperation in his grip, as if he was terrified I might break this contact. There was no chance I was going to do that.

  He initiated. This isn’t my fault.

  Thank fucking god it wasn’t just me.

  My hands were in his hair, pulling him in more, and I nibbled on his lip until he let me in his mouth. I moved my tongue in and out, sliding between his lips to simulate a seductive rhythm. I wanted him drunk on my flavor. I wanted him to remember how I felt and how I tasted, until he craved me in his sleep. Until he was imagining how else I might make him feel. I was going to leave an impression on him that would take his mind when he was alone in his bed at night and he needed some inspiration.

  I pushed him back and pressed him into the bed with all of my weight. My pussy was already so wet. And he was already so hard. I was so intoxicated by the flavor of his saliva, I’d do just about anything to get to know the flavor of his cum.

  He kept drinking in my kisses, while his hands gripped my waist to pull me down on him. Those naughty fingers inched down to my ass, but they stayed there, not venturing anywhere near where I wanted them. I needed him to feel more of me. I rubbed myself against his pelvis, in the hopes he might oblige me.

  “You can touch me wherever you want.” I practically moaned into his mouth. This was becoming unbearable. We were moving too fast and not fast enough at the same time.

  His hands slid back up, catching the cloth of my blouse and exposing one inch of flesh at a time in a controlled motion. His fingertips teased the skin of my back with pure sexual electricity. He kept going until I gave in and removed my shirt completely. While I hovered over him, supporting myself on a hand placed on either side of his head, he let his hands explore the length of my upper body, sliding down my chest, over my bra, then stopping short at the waist band of my jeans. I could feel his ragged breathing teasing my lips, while I know he could feel mine, too.

  He kept our eyes locked as his knuckles brushed over the front of my pants. I was begging for more. He kept moving, finally sliding his fingers between my legs.

  “I want to fuck you so bad.” He whispered before reconnecting our mouths.

  AGH. That was everything I wanted to hear, and completely unfair at the same time. Is he actually talking to me? Is he just drunk and lost in the feeling? Right. What am I doing? I KNOW he’s drunk. I can’t sleep with him when he’s drunk. I can’t do any of the things I want to do to him while he’s drunk. I wouldn’t do this to a date. I sure as fuck can’t do this do a guy who’s practically my boss. Who might not even be into me.

  He slipped his tongue under mine, and coaxed me into his mouth. Then he sucked on me in a way that sent waves straight to my clit. Oh, the waves he’d send through me if he did that TO my clit.

  I had to grip the bed covers with every ounce of strength to get ahold of my mind again.

  You’re being so fucking cruel, Finch Corbin.

  My whole body gasped as he started to run his hand back up my pants with an irresistible pressure. I knew I shouldn’t, but… it wouldn’t really do any more harm if I kissed him just a little longer, right?

  No, I’m the sober one here. I’m the responsible one. It’s up to me to stop, not him. He’s not in his right mind. For all I know, he thinks I’m someone else right now. I can’t take advantage of his confusion.

  I hate being a decent person. If you feel this way drunk, please, please, PLEASE feel this way sober.

  I selfishly stole one last taste of his tongue, then I pulled back and pushed off of him. Every one of my nerve endings was trembling. My body begged to be reunited with his warmth, and I was about to ruin this pair of panties. I cursed myself again for being annoyingly responsible.

  “I-I think we need to get some rest.” I couldn’t look him in the eye anymore. I wouldn’t be able to stay in control if I did. “I w-want to do this when I know you mean it. When you’re not-”

  A loud snore interrupted my speech.

  My expression flattened looking at the disheveled siren beneath me. Peaceful sleep covered his face, while I was left so high and dry that my eyes were tearing up.

  I got to my feet and slipped into the bathroom to finish myself off.

  I threw my head back until it hit the
wall with a thud.

  Fuck my life.

  Consider my debts paid, Finchy.

  Chapter 7

  Finch Corbin

  I can’t remember the last time I slept that well. Actually, now that I think about it, I can’t remember going to bed at all last night. One second I was talking to the bartender. Then I was dancing. I was going home with those ladies. Then… Lilly showed up… Then I pressed up against her on the back of her scooter…

  Then…

  My eyes shot open faster than they could handle adjusting to the afternoon sun blaring in on me through the window. I squinted through the pain, just enough to acknowledge that this was not, in fact, my own bed. I patted the bed beside me and patted myself down.

  I was still fully clothed. I wasn’t in bed with Lilly. I didn’t do anything I’d regret.

  Inhale.

  Exhale.

  I rubbed my temples trying to bring back as much of the night as I could. I’m fairly certain this must be Lilly’s room. The bed smells just like her perfume, and the air smells like a mix of refried beans and cattle. I don’t know a whole lot of other people who live in a restaurant that doubles as a cattle ranch.

  Okay, so Lilly took me home. Because she’s a good person, and I’m borderline her boss.

  My eyes caught sight of an open notebook. I scanned the words. My handwriting covered up half of his lyrics. I grinned to myself as I read through my changes. My corrections weren’t half bad for someone who was black out drunk. Alcohol can’t hide real talent.

  Alright, so half of last night’s mysteries are solved. But where exactly is Lilly?

  With a calm mind, the gentle sound of unconscious breathing caught my ear. I crawled to the edge of his bed to see Lilly sprawled out on an air mattress on the floor. She was wearing nothing but her underwear, with a sheet tangled around her like a snake that had bested her in a fierce battle and was preparing to devour its prey. I skimmed her neck, making sure there weren’t traces of hickies or other possible misdeeds. A trickle of drool glistened by her mouth.

  I stifled my laugh, so I wouldn’t wake her up. No marks on her skin. And if we didn’t even sleep in the bed together, it’s safe to say we didn’t do anything else together either. That could have been bad. Especially with the state I was in. If she had shown me even the slightest non-platonic mutual attraction last night, I probably would have…

  A quick shake of my head was barely enough to throw the images of Lilly’s writhing body out of my imagination. I forced myself to stop looking at her half naked body on the bed below me, too.

  Safe to say she didn’t make any kind of move. Though the notion that Lilly isn’t remotely into me wasn’t as comforting as it should have been.

  “Are you going to sleep the whole day away in there, sweetie?” A swift knock and a chipper, feminine voice penetrated the room.

  “Yes.” Lilly groaned as she pulled a pillow over her face.

  “Are you sure about that, sweetie?” I whispered as I leaned over the bed.

  Lilly shot up into seated position even faster than I had. “I’ll be out in a minute, Mami!”

  “We have a big dinner delivery tonight, so just be ready by then,” she called through the door.

  “Of course.” She waited for the sound of her steps to fade before she turned to me. “Fancy meeting you here, Finchy.” There was both amusement and a light shaking to her voice. Odd.

  My eyebrows flattened. “Are you seriously going to start calling me that?”

  Lilly laughed, much more jovially than I would have expected considering how much sleep was still in her eyes. “After last night, I think I’ve earned the privilege to call you whatever I want.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” What else did I forget?

  “Wouldn’t YOU like to know.” Lilly gave me a catlike grin, as she got up and grabbed herself a pair of jeans. She was still half undressed, showing off lean, farm built muscles from her neck to the low waist of her tight pants, when she came back over to the bedside to ruffle my hair. She paused as she studied my expression. “Man, you were FADED. I remember my first time having a drink.” She laughed a mocking laugh. Embarrassing. “How much do you remember?”

  I focused hard, searching for any other memory remnants that might still be lingering in my psyche. I felt like an idiot. “Can you give me some hints?”

  “Do you remember the club?”

  “Of course.” I rolled my eyes. “I was sober when I showed up there.”

  “Do you remember the ride?”

  How could I forget. “We went up Mulholland.”

  “Yeah. Sorry about that. I know I already apologized, but I figured I should reiterate just in case you don’t remember that part.”

  “I remember that part.” The whole ride came back more vividly than it was while I was living it. I looked up at Lilly. She was biting her lower lip and fixing her eyes on the window.

  “Do you remember getting here?”

  Try as I might, I couldn’t find any of those images in my memory. It was lucky I was even able to hold on for the remainder of the ride. “Everything’s kind of black after we stopped at the lookout.” I picked up the notebook and tapped it on my knee. “But it looks like I gave you some good edits to chew on.”

  “Y-yeah. You gave me a lot to think about for sure.” Lilly smiled a smile that seemed more melancholy than happy.

  “I didn’t say anything too harsh, did I?” That’s not what I wanted to ask, but if I asked if I had… said something to her when nothing at all had happened, I’d be admitting that I thought of her that way, when she otherwise has no idea. Asking if I was harsh, however, was already accepted as my default state of being. I’m so smooth sometimes…

  “You’re kind of a dick when you’re drunk, too, turns out.” Lilly laughed. It was a reassuring laugh. The kind that cast all of my needless worrying aside. It’s good to know my professionalism is stronger than my libido. “Well, more importantly… do you still want to learn to ride the scooter?” Lilly’s catlike grin returned.

  I cocked an eyebrow. “Are you going to be the one to teach me?”

  “Oh Finchy.” She rested a hand on my cheek with a look in her eyes that could only be described as psychotic. “You can trust me.”

  ###

  Lilly Cisneros

  The scooter was in my backyard, behind the restaurant tool shed that I’ll admit is in fairly desperate need of fresh paint. But the simple structures seemed insignificant in the expansive backdrop of rolling ranchland across the horizon. My parent’s home was old but elegant as it sat on a hill in the distance. It was a perfectly sunny day, and the comfortable air and familiar smells knocked the lingering exhaustion from my mind.

  “This is the throttle.” I twisted the right handlebar a few times to demonstrate, revving up my four stroke, 125cc engine. At peak torque, it was nearly as loud as an angry cat. Such a good little scoot. “And this is the brake.”

  “Which one’s the clutch? How do you shift?”

  “It’s an automatic, speed racer.” I rolled my eyes. “Just rock it forward to drop it off the center stand and go!”

  He’s a racer. I’m sure he can handle a little scooter.

  He shifted his weight forward, and gave the throttle a hard twist. The little scooter seemed to find its power much faster than he was ready for. The look of panic on his face was priceless.

  The wheels wobbled over every rock and rut, while the suspension bottomed out in every gopher hole. He made it about 30 yards when he grabbed a fistful of brake and jerked the handlebars to the side, but it wasn’t enough to avoid the large stack of hay bales that found its way directly in his path. Oooh, this isn’t going to end well. I probably should have told him how to steer.

  The scooter flopped to the side and ricocheted off the dried straw, leaving Finch on his ass in the grass beside it.

  “Soooo…. Sudden steering input after locking up the brakes doesn’t work on any vehicle, Finchy.” I stood over
him, making no effort to contain my laughter. He furled his eyebrows and refused to look at me. I was still laughing at him as I lifted up the scooter and leaned it against the hay, and I couldn’t seem to stop as I offered him my hand. “Let’s try this again, shall we?”

  I stood back and watched him practice as I sorted out my thoughts on this whole situation. I wasn’t quite ready to introduce Finch to my parents. Fortunately they were both busy enough that I could avoid running into them for at least a few more hours. But that was hardly my most trying thought at the moment.

  My eyes fell over my companion as he kicked started my pink scooter yet again. Finch was still wearing his suit from the night before- not that I expected him to have a change of clothes on hand or anything. The look suited him, with his dark slacks and a casually unbuttoned dress shirt. I was still getting used to his face with contacts instead of glasses though. He looked so much more vulnerable without them. He might be the only person I’ve ever met who is more intimidating with his glasses on.

  His brown hair was also messier than usual. Partially from wearing my spare half helmet, and partially because I had messed it up last night…

  I thoughtfully covered my mouth with my hand in a preemptive attempt to hide any emotions that might bubble up on my face.

  This is so unfair. He doesn’t remember that he kissed me- not the other way around, I’d like to emphasize- and he doesn’t remember moaning into my mouth. He gets to go about his life thinking nothing happened, blissfully unaware, while every minute of what he did is permanently scored into my brain. What’s supposed to happen is I wake up after a night like that and go in for another couple rounds. Not wake up and have to secretly play with myself in the bathroom. My skin could still feel his fingertips running down my chest, toying with my nipples, and sliding between my legs. His scent still clung to my clothes. The taste of his saliva lingered on my lips. And much to my disdain, I had absolutely no desire for any of it to go away.