by Sunniva Dee
“Please,” I begin, but he’s not answering, not listening. Finally, as my orgasm seems to taper off, he plunges deep with the force I would have asked for before, if I weren’t so lost inside my passion.
I don’t come down. The change in tempo causes me to scale again, and soon I’m up there, flying high. Dominic has no mercy. For each hard pump, my knees lift higher, allowing him even deeper, joining us—merging us tighter.
“Fuck. Me,” he growls. Dominic’s body tenses over me—not moving anymore. He’s inside of me, pulsating with his release and making me come apart around him. My breathing is out of control. I inhale his cologne, his sweat, our arousal. He absorbs my squeals with his lips, his tongue swiping over mine. Sucking, kissing, we ride this out together, but in the end, he pulls away just enough to exhale his question in a puff of air.
“Shit, Pandora… what is this?”
I don’t know why he’s concerned. I don’t care about anything, because I’ve just been in heaven.
8. DAMAGE CONTROL
DOMINIC
Hot. Damn.
Pandora is asleep, and I’m about to split, because after what just happened, I can’t remain this close to her.
I get dressed, shut the door quietly behind me, and leave. Her friends are back, so she should be fine. I’ve done what I can for her anyway: her back’s as loose as I can get it.
Fuck me.
I like this girl.
I get in the car and head to Nonstop Fitness. My gym bag is on the back seat, full of my sweaty-ass workout threads from earlier.
I enter and nod at the receptionist, whose slow blink reveals his need for a catnap. I stalk into the changing room and shudder as I pull on my damp, stinky clothes.
The machine room is void of club members. A swift glance at the wall clock tells me why. It’s the hour of the day when everyone sleeps. Or dies.
Four a.m.
I don’t warm up. Not that I usually do, but tonight—this morning—I start off sprinting on the stationary bike until I hit 230. Max pulse isn’t something I usually aim for, but I need to clear my mind.
The morning greys outside as I push 220 in weights. My arms rock over me on the bench.
“Dom, dude.” It’s Rob, my trainer pal. He’s got the graveyard shift.
“Yeah,” I puff.
“You didn’t get laid last night, did you?”
“I wish.”
“Um, you wish what?” Rob’s not the sharpest. The girls dig him, though. Probably the buzz cut.
“I wish that I didn’t get laid, Rob. Last night was too fucking awesome.”
Rob starts laughing. It begins slowly and pumps up full force until he’s roaring. Yeah, he’s a bit of an actor, which gets old pretty fast.
I ignore him, doing my thing until he dries an imaginary tear. Finally, he shuts the hell up, only to break into questions I don’t care for. “Liar. So why aren’t you with her if she’s that good? She married or something?”
“No, she’s not married! Never mind, dude. Got stuff to do,” I say.
“Like be at the gym instead of having another go at the lucky lady?” Rob smirks, thinking he’s being clever.
“Whatever. You mind?”
He shrugs his meaty shoulders as he plods off. Before he exits, though, he can’t hold back a last comment: “Weak, Dominic. I’d have done her all night.”
Later, I’ll head over to Elysium. It’s my day off, but I might check in with the missus, see if she needs anything. Like a round in the kitchen. Yeah, that should get my mind off things and leave me in shape to study for the rest of the weekend.
PANDORA
“Wifey!” Mica’s voice pierces through my sleep. She’s staring at me from the doorway, and I immediately remember last night.
Dominic!
My bed is empty. Seriously? I don’t know how to feel about that. I’d have asked him to leave—this was another mistake—but him sneaking out doesn’t sit right with me.
“So where’s the sex god?” She waggles her eyebrows.
“Came and left.”
Mica’s eyes widen. “Oh right, I forgot. Pan’s done with sleepovers.”
“Actually, I’m done with guys. I’m all about my studies, remember?”
“Which you keep forgetting, am I right?” She nods in concurrence even though I never agreed, and I wish her point weren’t so disturbingly true.
“Anyways. He came, gave me a massage—”
“With benefits, I assume?”
“Shut up. And then he left while I slept.”
“Nu-huh—no freaking way! Oh my God. He snuck off? Destiny!”
Great.
Minutes later, all my BFFs sit in my bed with two buckets of ice cream. They come prepared, assuming they need to comfort me. Who knew we even had ice cream?
My phone buzzes with Mom’s smiling face staring from the screen. Her eyes look manic, which suits her personality. I don’t pick up.
I won’t be impulse-texting Dominic anymore, and Mom’s my constant reminder of how important it is to stay on task, to not mess up.
Homework. I’ll dive into my shitload of calculus as soon as I’m back from the gym. This’ll be a great, efficient weekend. Anyone can start off on the wrong foot, right? As far as Dominic goes, we’re obviously in agreement about our little get-togethers. Hence his sudden departure.
Saturday trudges on, the highlight being the morning ice cream fest. Shannon comes along to the new gym. Hilarious how everything I do is on the “bad” side of town. My mom would hate this.
The gym itself is spacious and utilitarian, the way a gym should be, I guess. The colors flow between black and grey, with windows stretching floor to ceiling. Green plants soften the appearance somewhat, but it’s definitely a guys’ gym.
Shannon giggles. “Getting buff, much?” Oh yes, there’s lots of grunting and pumping iron going on around us.
“I know. Can you imagine what we’ll be like after a year in here?” I jerk my head in the direction of an anti-steroids poster with a skin-colored, female Hulk. “Let’s get started, sugar!”
Their enormous elliptical machines are of the Cadillac variety, so we need assistance figuring them out. Crew-cut trainer-boy has no problem with that. My eyes flick to his nametag. Rob.
Rob takes his time standing behind me and making my arms move with the handlebars like I’m three. He smells of roasted chicken, which makes me hungry.
He lets go once I’ve thanked him profusely enough, though, and Shannon bats her lashes at him until he backs away with a lopsided grin. “As I said—anything you need, just holler,” he repeats for the third time.
“Hollah back, girl,” I hum into Shannon’s ear, making her snort around the tip of her water bottle.
Two hours later, I sit on the bench in the sauna feeling fabulous; I’m not hurting. “So how about we go out tonight?” I ask. Shannon stares at my knee, which is bouncing fast. I expect her to comment on my too-energetic state.
“Heck yes,” she says.
“You want to?” I’m surprised. Miss Libra always tries to maintain balance in our lives, and yet now she wants to go out two nights in a row. “Sooo, was Christian there yesterday?” I ask.
She giggles again. Shannon is giggling a lot these days, which is strange, because she’s not the type.
“Dude’s turning you into a seven-year-old. Where’s my friend?” I exclaim dramatically to no one.
“Oh, shut up.” Still grinning, she smacks my arm. “Yeah, he’s… I like him. I think he got in trouble with his boss last night for spending too much time with me.”
“Ah,” I gasp. “I’ll have to give that boy a talkin’ to.”
Wow, her smile is so wide. She really does like him.
“You’re freaking crushing on him, aren’t you?” I burst out, and now I’m
the one sounding like a second-grader.
“Oh, come on—I met him, like, yesterday. Are you in love with Dominic, for instance?”
I grimace. “Of course not. I just made a mistake.”
“Twice,” she quips.
“Whatever—anyway, that’s it for me. No more mistakes.”
“No more hot, delicious mistakes?”
“Will you stop, Shannon?” My body remembers, and I suck in my stomach in an effort to subdue the heat curling in it.
I need to get back home, because unfortunately the calculus won’t do itself. Both of my knees bounce now, and… yeah. I’d rather not study.
For some reason, I shout over the curtain separating us as we get dressed. “What’s a good time, you think? It’s five already; you want to head to Smother at nine or something? I gotta make it an early night so I can be awake for the calculus homework tomorrow.”
“Thought you were doing that today?”
“Yeah, well. Maybe I will, at least some of it, before we leave.”
“Aww, Wifey.” Mica puckers into a cherry-red pout and hugs me. She’s her typical, over-the-top self, as if she’s watching me board a flight out of her life forever.
“We’ll hold down the fort here, okay?” she sings.
“Yeah… Why’s that again?” Shannon and I are both puzzled. Since I’ve known Mica—a decade this June—she’s never turned down an opportunity to party. Whether it be birthday bashes at Chuck E. Cheese’s or sneaking off to frat parties while we were in high school, Mica and I have always been the same.
Destiny stands behind her. With the exception of their slight figures, they are night and day. Blonde, sparkly, blue-eyed Mica—and dark-haired, coffee-eyed Destiny with her quiet calm that never wavers.
“We’re tired,” Mica explains. I don’t buy it, but I’m so ready to party. Scheuermann has taken a break from my life, and I’m about to enjoy!
Mica might stay home, but she loves to do my makeup. She’s all about smoky eyes and deep red lipstick, and after a look in the mirror, I’m not complaining.
In the cab, Shannon and I give each other once-overs. I’m wearing black, knee-high platform boots with stiletto heels matched with a decent-length, black pencil skirt and a Levi’s jacket over my vintage Nirvana tee. The t-shirt is big, because it used to belong to Jacob. My hair I’ve got twirled in loose curls down my back.
“Damn, you’re hot tonight,” Shannon says. “Watch out, or you’ll make another one of those delicious mistakes.”
“Shush,” I say. Really, she can’t jinx me, because I’ll only be dancing my ass off and having fun. “Not happening.”
She’s mighty fine herself in a long, bottle-green velour-style dress that hugs her in all the right places. Shannon has morphed into a retro Little Mermaid with ruby pumps. Her green and rose makeup accentuates her ivory skin. We look like we’re going to completely different clubs!
Now, she’s squinting at me. “Maybe you’ll not make mistakes with Leon tonight?”
I groan. “Seriously. All I’m going to do is dance and people-watch.”
9. PROBLEMS
PANDORA
The lights are dim, and the music shudders through me. I’m warm, comfortable, excited. Around me, people laugh and scream to be heard. The scents—cigarette smoke from the patio and a myriad of perfumes, body lotions, and aftershaves—entice and play with my senses.
I love this freedom in a small, restricted space. I wish my world could be like this always—it’s making me giddy.
“Gimme another grasshopper!” I yell to Christian.
He looks up from his heart-to-heart with Shannon. “Comin’ up.”
Shannon swings to meet my gaze. “Pan, why don’t you grab a soda? Remember how sick you got last weekend?”
“Pfff, don’t worry about me—those were crème de menthe shots, not mixed into a cocktail.” The music is suggestive and utterly danceable. I suck air in through my nose, dismissing further discussion, and stare over her head toward the D.J. booth.
Around me, everyone moves to some extent, even if only with a finger tapping against a drink. Except Leon. Standing perfectly still with an arm on the glass siding of the D.J. booth, Smother’s owner surveys business with detached interest.
Clad all in black, he’s impeccably dressed, his soot-colored hair blending with his shirt at the collar. The catlike sex appeal that caused my stomach to clench the last time, affects me from across the room.
I lean against the bar, enjoying the view. Leon must sense me, because within seconds, his slanted gaze locks with mine. My sober self would be embarrassed about now, but I know no shame when I’m drunk.
For fun, I let the corners of my mouth curl up in my most seductive smile. The way he’s fully focused on me charges me with an immediate rush.
“Pandora.” Christian sets my grasshopper down next to me and rests his elbows on the counter. “If I can give you my two cents, Leon is bad news.” When I don’t react, he adds, “You don’t want to deal with him.”
“What if I do?” I’m not slurring, but my lips are numb—not a good sign. I should take Shannon’s advice and stop drinking.
The grasshopper finds my mouth, though, and I suck in the minty sweetness. Ridiculously tasty.
“Believe me, you don’t.”
Men are idiots. Now, I’m more curious than ever and devour Leon with my eyes. It doesn’t go unnoticed. He shoves off the wall and saunters around the dance floor toward us. With a brief nod to Christian and Shannon, he turns his back to them and concentrates on me.
“So. Pandora,” he says too quietly. Years of practice must have taught him the decibel level needed to be heard in a pulsating club.
I meet his eyes, and the lack of humor, of playfulness in them startles me. They’re a pale, icy blue I haven’t seen before. He’s intimidating, but nothing ruffles me when I’m in this state.
“Yep. Leon, I suppose? Mr. Smother himself?” I throw in a wink for good measure, and the shadow of a smirk grows on his lips.
With two fingers, he reaches for one of my loose curls and rubs up and down as if gauging the quality of my hair.
“You’re weird,” I tell him.
“Yeah?” A hint of surprise illuminates his irises before dissipating again.
I look away and wiggle a little to the music. At the corner of my eye, I still catch how Leon’s strange eyes float down my body to my hips. He’s just another male, of course he is, and I’m in control of the situation.
“So you’re a freshman at The University of Deepsilver, I hear. How old does that make you? Eighteen?”
I jut my chin out. “Twenty-one.”
“Right.”
“Yeah.” I nod. “My parents held me back a year, etcetera, etcetera—” Seriously. Overprotective professor-fathers can influence school boards. I’ll bet he’d have liked to hold me back two years too, not just the one. “—and hey, if you didn’t believe me, you’d throw me out of here. I’d be too young for your exclusive little club.”
Leon’s face lights up, eyes sparkling with amusement. Gleaming white teeth and pointy canines remind me of Hollywood vampires as he bares them in a grin. Damn, the guy’s a babe!
“Well, aren’t you a handful?” he says. In that instant, an old, favorite song of mine, “Hot Mess” by Cobra Starship, starts playing. My jittery energy hasn’t subsided all night, and the spot opening among the dancers is just what I need.
Shannon mutters, “Great,” while I drag her with me. She tries to squirm away when I insist on dirty dancing and maneuver us into a ridiculous back-to-back imaginary pole dance. As high school juniors, we did it in front of the mirror, so she knows how this goes.
I catch a glimpse of Christian smiling at us. Leon’s expression next to him is studiously blank. I have his full attention, though, and my gut tells me I shouldn’t be h
appy about that.
Note to self: ask Christian why Leon is bad news.
By the time we’re done dancing, I’m woozy. I wasn’t going to drink much tonight, but the last grasshopper did the trick.
As I meander back to the bar, I hold my head high to compensate for the sudden dizziness. I catch a swimming glimpse of my watch and make out 1:15-ish.
“Sorry,” I apologize to Leon, sounding sloshed just by saying that. I bend to pick up the purse I’ve got haphazardly slung over the foot railing of my stool. I lose my balance, and Leon saves me from falling on my ass. He doesn’t withdraw once I’m back up, which I find extremely funny.
Leaning heavily on him, I don’t mind that his arms fold around me and press me close. Above me, he’s dragging in a long whiff of my shampoo. That, too, is hilarious.
I need air badly. Without fresh air, everything will go downhill fast. Real, live oxygen from the crisp outdoors should clear my mind.
Grasshoppers? Yeah—NO. No more crème de menthe in any shape or form.
I stumble out of Leon’s hold. I’m on a mission, and I don’t have time to inform anyone. I leave Shannon’s “Where’re you going?” unanswered, and when Leon tries to seize me, I wring free and head in what I consider a straight line toward the door with a sign that blinks “PATIO.”
He follows me. Maybe he’s planning to dole out style points while I bend over his bushes puking my guts out.
The patio proffers more smoke than oxygen, but the cold night is still invigorating. I pull in a breath.
“Not doing so good, hmm?” Leon says.
“Meh, so-so,” I gasp, before my stomach revolts. With a single hurl, all the green goodness I’ve inhaled forces its way up. People back up, yelling “Whoa!” as I paint the patio tiles.
Leon barks out an order, and within seconds, a huge glass of ice water materializes while a busboy scrubs the ground for me. A mild sensation of disgust sets in; how low can I go again?
I sniffle and try to dry my nose with the paper towel he gave me. Unfortunately, I miss on the first attempt. I don’t remember how many grasshoppers I’ve downed.
