“Hold on, do you really think I’d do something like that?”
“I don’t know, Ropes. I have no idea who you really are.”
“Spencer. My real name is Spencer.”
“Well that clears up the mystery,” I shot back.
“I never tell anyone my real name. Ever.”
My eyes met his and I could see the sincerity on his face. “Why?”
“Because it reminds me of my father and I hate my father, just like you hate yours.”
My stomach dropped. “H… how could you know anything about my relationship with my father?”
“I told you I would tell you something true about yourself.”
“But that’s not true. My dad and I get along fine.”
That was a lie. I had just extolled the virtues of telling the truth moments ago, then turned around and told a big old fat lie.
Ropes stood up, pushed his chair back and extending his hand. “Come on,” he said with a smile.
“Where are we going?”
“To start our date. There’s something I want to show you.”
“But you didn’t win!” I protested.
“Look, Devlin. We can call it a night right now and I’ll never talk to you again, or you can cut the bullshit and start being honest with me. I know that we started off on a chaotic and bizarre note, but if you’ll just trust me a little bit, I think you’ll see that I’m a good guy.”
“Why do they call you Ropes?”
“I’ll tell you later, I promise. Come with me and I’ll show you who I really am, or at least who I hope to be.”
I took Ropes’s hand and followed as he led me through the food court to the escalators.
“Where are we going?”
“Not far. We’re not even going to leave the mall.”
We walked hand-in-hand, passing store after store in complete silence. Ropes’s ability to look right into my soul freaked the shit out of me, but I also felt comfortable around him. That’s not to say that I felt safe, quite the contrary. I was a bundle of frayed nerve endings on roller skates. I couldn’t believe I was letting him hold my hand and take jabs at me. I’d always said I wasn’t attracted to ‘yes men,’ but this guy was able to push back without completely irritating me. He somehow knew how close to the edge he could push me, and I needed to know how and why he was able to do that. If I had a weak spot, a way for people to sneak in, I needed to know about it.
“Here we are,” Ropes said, and we stopped in front of a large bookstore.
I crinkled my nose. “Alpine Books?”
“Sure, why not?”
“I thought you wanted this to be a date?”
“What, you don’t think books are romantic?”
“I suppose it depends on the book. I’m not gonna get all hot and bothered over Olson’s Standard Book of British Birds or something.”
“What if it was the expurgated version?” he replied.
My head snapped, and my eyes locked on his. “The one without the Gannet?”
“They’ve ALL got the Gannet!” we exclaimed together in equally bad British accents before erupting into laughter.
“I quote Monty Python all the time and people have no idea what I’m talking about,” I said, carefully wiping the tears from my eyes. “Okay, be honest,” I said, tilting my head up toward the overhead lighting. “Is my mascara running?”
“No, you look beautiful. Perfect actually,” Ropes said before tilting my head toward his. His lips covered mine and I gasped before returning his kiss. My heart was beating harder than when Troy was stalking me. I wanted to push away. No, that’s not true. The last thing in the world I wanted to do was push away, and that’s what scared me. Why was I letting this guy get close?
We finally broke our kiss and Ropes said, “I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”
“This still isn’t a date,” I replied with a playful grin.
“C’mon,” he said, and led us into the bookstore.
Alpine was one of the area’s last true bookstores. This location wasn’t as impressive as the original downtown store, but that one had been sold two years ago to make more condos. This truncated version of Alpine still managed to retain a very “Portland” feel, despite its surroundings. The eclectic nature of the city was well-represented, both by the store’s décor, and its content. The shelves were stuffed with new and used books of every genre imaginable. Ropes led me by the hand through twists and turns until we reached a narrow spiral staircase that had been hand painted in bright day-glow colors.
“Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll see,” Ropes replied, leading me upstairs to a large loft area. The space was set up with over-stuffed furniture and bean-bag chairs. Vintage floor lamps lit the space and jazz music was playing lightly in the background. Several patrons sat, sipping coffee while reading.
“This is nice,” I said. “Kind of quiet for my taste, but nice.”
“This store is one of the two reasons I’d ever come to this or any other mall.”
“What’s the other reason?”
He looked back and smiled wide. “You.”
I was going to need to buy some dry panties while I was at the mall.
“What I want to show you is over here,” Ropes said, motioning to a group of large shelves located in the back corner of the room.
“You’re not gonna show me a bunch of books about serial killers, are you? Please tell me you’re not into all that creepy shit.”
Ropes just smiled and led me to the section, which I could now see was marked “Romance and Erotica” and placed me directly in front of an endcap display for the ‘Blazing Trails Series’ by D.W. Foxblood.
“Here,” he said, extending an arm toward the display.
“Here, what?”
“Look, it’s clear to me that you’re not gonna let me get any closer to the real you until you know what I’m all about, which is fair enough, so in order to speed things up a little, I wanted to show you who I want to be.”
“You want to be a woman?” I said, pointing to the author’s picture.
Ropes laughed and fired back playfully, “No, you lunatic, I don’t want to be D.W. Foxblood, I want to be like D.W. Foxblood. I want to write romance novels for a living.”
“You’re joking, right?”
Ropes’s smile dropped. “Why is that everyone’s response?”
“You’ve told other people about this?”
A hard-core biker with aspirations of becoming a novelist was beyond my comprehension, let alone one who wanted to write some kissy-kissy Fabio shit.
“Actually, you’re the second person I’ve said a word to about any of this. The only other person who knows is Minus.”
Ropes’s apparent vulnerability made me very uncomfortable. “Why are you telling me something so personal?”
“I told you, Devlin, I want to get to know the real you and likewise, I want you to get to know, and eventually trust me.”
“Why is that so important to you? Why the rush to get inside my head? Why are you being so…pushy?”
Ropes took a step backward. “I don’t mean to push.”
“That’s not what I meant. Not exactly anyway.” I took a deep breath and collected my thoughts before starting over. “I like you, Ropes. I think that’s pretty obvious by now, but I don’t think we’re on the same page.”
“How so?”
“I told you before that I’m not focusing on my dating life right now and there are several reasons for that, but I will not bore you with those details. However, when I do date, I always take things slow. Very slow. Painfully slow. I certainly do not sleep with guys after the first date, let alone before,” I said lowering my voice.
“Look, I hope you don’t think that I—”
“I don’t care what you do, and you don’t owe me an apology. I would just like to make it clear that our sleeping together last night is not some sort of green light onto relationship avenue. I understand how that c
an be confusing, but it’s what it is.”
Ropes grinned. “Thanks for clearing all that up. Do you feel better now?”
“All I’m saying is that from my perspective, we are moving at warp speed, so why do I get the notion that you feel like we’re crawling?”
Ropes paused for several seconds before saying “That’s a really good question.”
“Thank you,” I replied, pausing in vain for him to add more. “Do you have an answer?”
“To what?”
“Ropes, to your knowledge has anyone been murdered inside Alpine Books before?”
“Not that I know of, but this is the romance section. Murder mysteries are downstairs.”
I playfully smacked Ropes’s chiseled chest. “Come on, knock it off.”
“I told you already, Devlin, you’re a raft of penguins to me. I see the whole picture of you already, but I need you to let me in.”
“Why me? I’m sure you could sleep with any girl in Portland. Why are you so bothered with getting to know me?”
“First of all, you’re no bother, and secondly, I’m not going after other women in Portland. I want to spend time with you and only you. Any way you want to do that, I’m down. If you want to talk, we can talk. If you need to fuck, I’ll fuck you until you beg me to stop.”
Ropes lifted my chin and kissed me again. This time I didn’t resist at all, but instead allowed myself to lean into him as he explored my mouth with his tongue. He was an amazing kisser and I imagined him doing even more with that mouth.
The sound of a woman clearing her throat broke our kiss.
“Excuse me, may I help you?”
We looked down to see a squatty young woman with bright pink horn-rimmed glasses looking up at us.
“Um, no I don’t think so,” Ropes replied. “I’m pretty sure I’m getting the hang of kissing this woman all by myself and don’t require any assistance.”
I gave Ropes another quick palm to the chest as I felt my cheeks begin to flush.
“I meant can I help you find a book?” the woman replied without a trace of merriment.
“Actually, yes. Do you have any advanced copies of Combustion by D.W. Foxblood?”
“That book doesn’t come out until Tuesday,” she replied.
“I understand,” he said leaning down to read the woman’s name tag, “Marlene, but I was hoping since that’s in just a few days, that you might already have some copies in the back.”
“Petal.”
“Excuse me?”
“My name is Petal. You called me Marlene,” the woman said.
“I’m sorry, it’s just that your name tag says Marlene, so I thought—”
“This is Marlene’s name tag, but I’m Petal, so…”
“Okay,” Ropes said, sounding understandably confused. “I’m sorry I got your name wrong, but how could I have possibly known that you’re not Marlene?”
“Because, she’s not here tonight,” she replied in her best ‘duh’ tone.
Ropes blinked. “Do you have the book?”
“Yes,” Not-Marlene replied, “But it doesn’t—”
“Come out until Tuesday. Yes, I understand. Petal, huh?” Ropes said, pulling a wad of cash from his pocket. “Your parents’ hippies?” Ropes asked
“No, why?”
“I just thought maybe, because of the name…”
“I chose my own name,” she replied dryly.
“Why ya sportin’ Marlene’s tag?” I interjected.
“Because I don’t want anyone defining me, or telling me who I am.”
“By calling you by the name you chose, for yourself?” I asked.
“Exaaaclty.”
“I, for one, am glad we’ve had this chat,” Ropes said, peeling off two one-hundred-dollar bills and handing them to ‘She who shall not be named.’ “I’d like two copies of Combustion please and I don’t need change back.”
Two minutes later, Ropes had his books in a bag and we were heading out the door.
“What a whackadoo,” I said as we laughed our way through the exit, towards the parking structure.
“Keep Portland Weird, right?”
“I prefer the bumper sticker that says, ‘Keep Vancouver Normal.’”
“Get out of here,” Ropes said.
“No, really. I like living in the ’Couve,” I said.
“Seriously? You prefer living in Vancouver to Portland?”
“Sure, why not?”
“I guess I just figured with your vibe, you’d be a full-blown Portland chick, that’s all.”
I stopped our stroll. “That’s the second time you’ve mentioned my appearance tonight.”
“You didn’t like it earlier when I said you were beautiful and perfect?”
“No, not that. That was fine. Earlier, in the food court. You said something about my look being a defense mechanism.”
“I never used those words,” Ropes corrected me.
“Okay, maybe not those words exactly, but something to that effect.”
“Your armor is beautiful, but it’s armor nonetheless.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That right there is what I want to get through,” Ropes said with an intensity I’d not yet seen.
“What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. You’re naturally beautiful in every way. Your face, your body, the way you move… all perfect.” Heat crept up the back of my neck and I began to worry that my upper lip was sweating. “Yet, you’re always dressed to kill, all your ink on display, and even though you’re obviously a natural redhead, there’s always an extra pop of color in your hair. You want attention and you get it, but your look also screams, ‘Fuck off! You can’t have me.’ I think you know exactly what you’re doing, but perhaps you don’t know why just yet.”
“Now who’s judging a book by the cover?” I asked.
“That’s not what I’m doing at all.”
“Oh, really? I’m certainly feeling judged, and you’re the only one talking to me right now,” I snapped.
“I’m not judging you or your appearance, and if I were, honestly it’s all working for me,” Ropes said. “Big time.”
“You need to work on your complimenting skills.”
“I’m not trying to compliment or judge you, Devlin. I’m trying to understand you.”
“Why do you want to understand me, Ropes?”
“Because you’re my muse.”
I stared at Ropes for a long while, trying to craft the appropriate response. What I ended up with was, “The fuck?”
Ropes
“DON’T FREAK OUT,” I said, following Devlin up to her apartment. I’d practically white knuckled my ride here, worried she’d park her Thing, then try to keep me from coming in.
“What the fuck does that mean, Ropes? I’m your muse.”
“Let’s take this conversation inside,” I said, and waved my hand toward her door.
“Explain,” she pressed once we were inside.
“About two months ago, I was working on a book and getting nowhere fast.”
“You really write romance novels? This isn’t some sort of line?”
“Why is that so hard to believe? People of all types have been writing books for eons.”
“Sure, but I’ve never known a dude who wanted to write that kind of stuff for a living, let alone aspired to be the next D.W. Foxblood.”
“So, you do know who she is.”
“Of course I do. I don’t live on Mars.” Devlin smiled. “I can’t say I’ve read any of her books, seen the movies, or would be able to pick her out of a police line-up, but I am familiar with her work.”
“Did you know her husband is in a club?”
“Really?”
“Yup. She doesn’t talk much about her personal life in interviews, but I know her old man rides, and her books clearly pull from first-hand experience within an MC. When I first read her work, my eyes were opened to what c
ould be done within this genre, that these books were more than just pulp.”
“So where exactly do I fit into this picture?” I asked.
“A few months ago, for the first time ever, I was blocked, and it was affecting my life at every level.”
“Blocked? As in writer’s block?”
“Big time.”
“You couldn’t write at all?”
“I could write. I wrote every single day, I just hated everything I was putting down. To put it simply, I was uninspired and lacking vision.” I took Devlin’s hand and was relieved when she didn’t pull away. “Two months ago, you walked into Sally Anne’s and I wasn’t blocked anymore. The moment I saw you, a new story was born, and a new character walked into my life.”
“Are you telling me that you’ve been writing a story about me?”
“Cherry.”
“Her name is Cherry? Is she a stripper?”
I shook my head. “A schoolteacher.”
“Of course, she is,” Devlin said dryly, before letting go of my hand. “Look, Ropes, I’m sure many women would be really flattered by all this, but you’re sort of freaking me out here. I’m kind of a private person and…”
I covered her mouth with mine and she sighed and leaned in to me.
“Ropes, we need to talk about this.” Devlin protested with her words, but began writhing and grinding against me.
“I think we’re done talking for now,” I challenged.
“Maybe… maybe you’re right,” she rasped, and I kissed her again.
I slid a hand up to her neck and grasped her jaw. My other one dropped to her pussy and I cupped her over her jeans. She moaned and leaned in to my hands, and I kissed her gently as she moved against my palm.
I smiled against her mouth, then gave her one more kiss. “Are you okay?”
“I’m amazing,” she panted out.
“Do you want more?”
“I want it all, Ropes.”
“You’ll tell me if you want to stop.”
She met my eyes and nodded. “I promise. But I like it fast and hard. Can you do that?”
“Yeah, baby, I can do that,” I said, and made quick work of removing her clothes and pushing her gently over her sofa.
“Don’t move,” I ordered and stripped before rubbing a finger through her wet folds, my dick pulsing against her ass.
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