by Quin Perin
“Hm. He stayed the night.” I let my words hang long enough to frustrate her. “And we discovered a kink we shared. Y’know, nothing special.”
“Oh? What kink?” she asked, then backpedaled. “Only tell me if it’s not gross.”
“It’s not gross,” I assured her. It might have been a bit weird, but it wasn’t anything too over the top. In my opinion at least. “See, he’d bought me these cat ears like a joke and surprised me with them last night.”
“Cat ears? Hm, why?”
“Because I scratched up his chest, and he thought it would be funny.” I grinned.
“Uh...huh. Funny?” Zoe sounded skeptical.
“Made me laugh for a second, and then, well, it turns out we were both kind of into it.” I turned away from her, getting back to making my cake pops. “I was teasing him at first, but God, he got so hard from it. And his dick, Zoe, his dick.” I placed my hands about a foot apart as though I was narrating an exaggerated fishing story. “My fingers barely fit around it!”
Zoe was quiet for a moment—imagining it?—and then clucked her tongue. “You pretended to be a cat for him?”
I was proud of her for putting that together. “I did. He loved it.” I sighed. And I fucking loved it too. “Didn’t talk. Meowed. Purred. That sort of thing.”
“Like those people who pretend to be dogs!” Now she sounded proud of herself. Zoe hadn’t been innocent before she met me, not really, but she hadn’t necessarily known much about the world of kink. I’d educated her on it a bit, and although she thought a lot of it was too much for her, she never judged when I mentioned something I was into.
“Yeah. Like that.” I smiled. “We’re not quite at that level. Yet.” If I had my way, I wouldn’t mind going farther. I needed to think about it though. What I’d be willing to do. What I wouldn’t. I liked to be sure before I brought something like that up.
“Man, what a weird night you had.” She giggled. “Dressed up as a cat, found a fetish, and then fucked by that delicious piece of man-meat.”
Tapping my nails against the side of my bowl, I shrugged. “We didn’t fuck. I blew him. He rimmed me. We messed around a bit. No penetration. No fucking.”
She gasped, literally gasped, and whacked my shoulder. “What? You’re going slow...ish?”
Way to be offensive, Zoe. Tactlessly implying that I was a slut. I mean, she wasn’t wrong, but damn. “It’s not that weird.”
“You like him!” Her voice lilted. “You do-o-o!”
“Shut up.” My cheeks flamed, and I felt like a teenager trying to explain away a crush. “He’s sexy. That’s all.”
“Sure, sure.” She didn’t sound like she believed me at all. “When are you going to see him again?”
The heat on my face radiated as I stirred my batter quicker. “Lunch.”
I didn’t need to see her face to know the look she gave me. The smirk. And it irritated me. I didn’t like Tony. I liked his dick. His body. His sensuality. The passion we shared. Those were the reasons I let him spend time with me. Spend the night. There was nothing more there.
TWENTY-ONE
Tony
I spent the morning working through the comments the editor had made. Some phrases she claimed were offensive—not everyone understood sarcasm, apparently. But I understood she wanted to cover my ass, and I was grateful for it. With music pulsing through my ears, I went from comment to comment, and it took me three hours to emerge from my editing haze again.
Utterly exhausted, I dragged myself off the couch and checked the time. Almost noon. That made me grin like a love-drunk moron. I had completely zoned out while editing, and the prospect of lunch was a welcome distraction. I’d managed to get eighty percent of my edits done, so I definitely deserved a break. Once showered, slightly groomed, and dressed up with my jeans and a dark blue sweater, I headed out. On the stairs, I ran into Jan, who usually went home on his break to have lunch with Sara. He sighed and paused on his way up when he saw me.
“I have no idea what you did to...I mean, did with Dima—and I don’t want to know!” He raised his hands and looked at his feet, kicking absently against the step in front of him. “But he’s in a good mood, and Sara asked me if I knew anyone who would need a hand.”
I grinned as he grimaced, obviously uncomfortable.
“Not in that way.”
I stepped down so we were almost on eye level. “I appreciate that,” I said, about to head off for my lunch date when Jan stopped me again and handed over a small, yellow piece of paper. He’d ripped it from a notebook or something, and there was an address scribbled on it.
“Marcel owns a bar in town. It’s a couple of streets from my café. Needs a bartender, part-time. Not sure if it is the kind of work you do, but…”
I beamed and looked down at the crinkled piece of paper. “Thanks, man, sounds great! I’ll drop by after lunch.” Jan nodded and seemed ready to end the conversation when he suddenly cocked his head to the side.
“Where exactly are you going for lunch?”
I chewed the side of my lip, folding the paper neatly and tucking it into the front pocket of my jeans.
“I am gonna get something to eat for Dima and me, you know...a...”
“Date type of thing?” Jan finished my thought, blinking at me. I nodded. He stared at me as if he couldn’t believe it. “Right, well, good luck with that, I suppose.”
Dima
“He’s here!” Zoe squealed, hip bumping mine before she pulled away and scurried toward the door. She acted like she was the one going out with a sexy blond.
Since she was here on her own time, she’d been hanging around while I baked, hoping for a chance to accost Tony about what was going on with us. I should have been annoyed by her interference, but honestly, it was nice having someone who cared. Even if she was a little overenthusiastic.
While I washed my hands, Zoe headed into the main part of the café.
“May I help you?” she asked, syrupy-sweet.
“Uh…I’m here to see Dima.” Tony’s voice was a low rumble, and I hoped he didn’t notice how it made me smile.
“Oh, what for?” she hummed, playing innocent.
“Lunch,” he said, amusement twisting in his voice. “We’re having lunch together.”
Drying my hands off, I removed my apron, exchanging it for my sweater, and headed out toward them. Right on time to hear Zoe utter a statement that made me feel nauseous. “Like a date? You’re going on a date?”
Hell no!
Going on a date would mean we’d been on two together, and that was way too many. Before Tony could answer and make everything too real, I stepped forward. “Like we’re having lunch. Now stop being so nosy, Zoe,” I replied dryly. She should know better.
I reached out for where I’d heard Tony, and he shifted, placing his arm in reach of my grasp.
“Exactly. Lunch,” he said. He rustled a bag in his hand to make his point.
“And last night you had…?” Zoe’s words hung between us.
“Dinner,” I chimed up.
Tony snickered. “A very filling dinner. Best dinner I’ve had in a long time.”
Zoe giggled. “I see. Interesting.”
Not seeing their facial expressions frustrated me. It was like being the only one not in on a joke. Scowling, I whacked Tony’s arm gently. “Let’s go. I’m on a time limit.” I wasn’t, really. I had an hour for lunch, but if it took a bit longer, Jan wouldn’t care. He ran a fairly casual ship when it came to his café, and Levi, a new and—according to Zoe—rather cute guy, was going to be there.
“Bye, Tony,” Zoe lilted. “Bye, Dima. Have fun. Be safe.”
I slipped my hands into my pockets as we headed out of the café, and exhaled a sigh. “Sorry about her,” I said, shaking my head. “She’s...Zoe.”
Tony hummed and reached out, fingers brushing over the exposed skin of my wrist. Did he want to hold my hand? Is that what he was getting at? I shoved my hands deeper.
“I don’t mind. She reminds me a lot of my sister.”
“They get along really well,” I told him. “It’s scary.”
He hadn’t been here long enough to see everyone together, but if he stuck around, I was sure he would. Jan sometimes held little parties at the café. Shutting it down and hanging out with all of his friends. Whenever he did, Sara and Zoe spent the entire time gossiping while I usually found someone to take home with me.
A long, well-worn rope lined the trail toward the shore. It served as a railing, and from what I remembered, it also looked quaint. It was soft from all the hands grasping at it, and I dragged my fingers along it as we walked. It didn’t take us long to arrive; I plopped into my usual spot, curling my legs beneath the bench. “So, what did you get me?” I asked, wiggling in my spot. I’d purposefully avoided eating anything so he wouldn’t pick at me for not wanting the food he brought. “Something good?”
“I got you something nice and meaty.” I could hear the grin in his voice as he opened the bag, making it crinkle.
“You better be talking about sausage and not your dick,” I scolded. Really, I’d take either at this point. Didn’t want him to know that though.
“Well, in that case, I got you a sandwich.,” He laughed. “I didn’t know what to get, so I hope you like it.”
I held my hands out toward him, curling my fingers in a gimme motion. “I’m not too picky about what I put in my mouth,” I said dryly. “I let you in there after all.”
Tony plopped a wax paper envelope in my hands and snorted. Then he seemed to realize what I’d said. “Hey now! That’s mean!”
I smirked and felt around the packaging, finding the flap and pulling it open. I hit lightly toasted bread, a bit of cheese melted over the crust. So far, so good. Guiding the sandwich out, I brought it to my nose and tried to smell it. An overwhelming scent of cheese hit my nostrils, different kinds, so I took a nibble. Ham and cheese, toasted. Not too bad. In fact, I was pretty sure I recognized where he’d gotten this from.
“Is it good?” he asked. “Sara said you’re not a vegetarian...but I still didn’t know what to get you. I don’t really know a lot of food places around here.”
“S’good,” I assured him, leaning into his shoulder as I ate.
He joined me, arm flexing faintly as he lifted his sandwich to his mouth. He took a bite, chewing quietly. It was oddly peaceful being there with him. The sea’s roar was a low, soothing hum. White noise in the background that stirred something in my memories. Something I tried hard to push down.
Halfway through my meal, Tony piped up, finishing his sandwich. His arm went around my waist, and he let out a sigh. “Have you ever been to that bar near the café? Marcel’s?” he asked.
“Hmm. Not recently.” I liked them, but there were too many people. “But it’s a nice place from what I remember. Marcel was nice too. Why? Wanna go get drunk?”
Tony tilted his head down and pressed his cheek to my hair. He was warm against me, and I dropped my hand to his thigh. “Jan said Marcel might give me a job. And I was wondering if you knew anything about that place.”
“Oh? You want to work at the bar?” I asked.
He shrugged beside me. “I’m planning on hanging around for a while,” he murmured to which I said nothing and kept munching on my sandwich.
He was staying? From what Jan had said, Tony was a traveler. Going everywhere and staying nowhere. Sara hadn’t seen him in forever because of that. Honestly, that had been part of why I wasn’t opposed to hanging out with him that first time. He’d be gone soon, so what would it matter?
But now, I found myself feeling warm and pleased by the idea of him being around for a while longer. I wanted him to stay, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him that. “Y’know, you have to come over tonight, right?” I informed him, breaking the silence.
“Why?” I sensed his lips twitch into a smile.
Warmth spread along my face. “Well, I don’t think you put all my furniture back in all the same spots, and you need to come and fix it.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. You have to come.”
“Oh, I’ll come. Definitely.”
TWENTY-TWO
Tony
I took Dima back to the café, smile never fading from my lips. Hanging out with him was too much fun. Great conversation and great sex were a rare combination, and I wasn’t ready to let that go yet. I was going to do everything to stay in this town a little longer. Nothing might come of it, but well, I’d always been a risk taker. And I felt Dima was a good risk to take. As I dropped him off at the café, the girl whose name was apparently Zoe waggled her eyebrows at me. I could see why she was friends with Dima. They were both impossible. I waved at her as I ushered Dima inside.
“Thank you for returning him,” Zoe called, and I nodded.
“My pleasure,” I replied; Dima narrowed his eyes in my direction. “I’ll see you tonight,” I told him and then left them to it. I checked the address Jan had given me, looking it up on my phone. The bar was a few streets away, past the little shop I’d gotten Dima the ears from. That instantly sparked a little flame in my stomach. Jesus, Dima was born to be a cat. The way he moved, purred, meowed.
There were no cars to disturb the old part of the town, so I strolled down the street until I found the sign of Marcel’s.
I headed inside, pushing past a heavy door with a tinted glass window. “Hello?” I called when I didn’t see anyone at first sight. It was still early in the afternoon, and I was surprised they were even open this early. I looked around the neatly arranged chairs, set aside to clean the floor, I imagined. The bar was all honey and oak, the kind you’d expect good scotch and candlelight in. I stuffed my phone back into the pocket of my jeans, scanning the pictures on the wall. Dark and artistic with an edge to them. One of them was a man sitting crossed-legged with a blue cloth fanned out like a peacock’s feathers, hands resting on his knees. It looked weird. Almost buddha-like.
A noise from behind me caught my attention, and I looked back at a counter where a woman emerged. Heavily tattooed, nose and eyebrow piercing, and a smug smile on her face.
“Well, hello there. How can I help you?” she asked and gave me a slow once-over before she bent down again, hiding from view.
“I’m looking for Marcel; it’s about the part-time job,” I explained as she heaved a beer case onto the counter, huffing out a breath. She looked at me then and bit her lip, brushing her hands off on her hips. I watched her walk from behind the bar to approach me. She was a petite but strong-looking woman. Her hair was short, so short in fact she could easily trim it with a razor. It was slightly longer on top. The sides were shaved off though. Bleached blonde and a bit fried from it.
“I’m Marcel,” she said and reached out to shake my hand. Oh. We shook hands, her fingers cold and almost frail. They lingered in my grasp, a bit too long to be casual.
“For some reason, I was expecting a guy.” I smiled and pulled my hand from hers. A tilt of her head and a bite of her lip...
“Well, unless you don’t want to be working for a woman, why don’t you show me what drinks you can mix?” She had a fine Dutch accent, one that blended in with her English rather well.
“I don’t mind,” I said and went straight behind the bar. Her gaze followed me, and I strangely felt like her prey. The small blonde woman rested her forearms on the counter as I looked over the bottles of liquor she stored on the shelf behind the bar. There was an impressive amount of different kinds of whiskey. I’d been in so many bars I recognized three-fourths of them from sight alone. Jimmy, Johnny, and my old friend Jack. Sweeter drinks. Rum, Jäger. Everything an alcoholic could desire.
For the next hour, I made her all kinds of drinks. Dry Martini, whiskey sour, margarita, mojito until she asked me to stop. I really had to rack my brain to remember how to make these drinks. But soon I was back in the groove, knocking them out with minimal fumbling.
“You’re not as bad as I tho
ught you would be,” Marcel said with a crooked grin as she tasted the margarita I’d made, the salt on the rim sticking to the side of her lip. Wiping my fingers on a towel, I shook my head and smiled.
“Thanks.”
“You got the job if you want it.” Our eyes met, and she lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “It’s three times a week, 10 Euro an hour. Usually the late shift from seven till after midnight. The shifts change sometimes, and I don’t appreciate complaints.”
“Sure, sounds good,” I replied, my arms crossed over my chest, leaning back against the shelf. Marcel sipped on her drink again, her fingers slipping across the side of the glass as though it were an instrument. Her eyes never left mine until I broke the connection. My skin prickled under her lingering gaze, and I wondered if she took me on for a whole other reason.
TWENTY-THREE
Dima
My loud moan cut through the quiet apartment and echoed in my ears. I shifted lower on the bed, spreading my thighs wider as my knees dug into the blankets. Ass in the air. Back arched. Chest pressed to the sheets. My cock was hard, slick as the tip grazed the fabric below me. One hand spread apart my cheeks while two slicked-up fingers stretched out my hole, buried to the knuckles.
Once Tony had dropped me off after lunch, I’d rushed through the rest of my shift and hurried home right when it was over. Probably should have stayed an extra hour or two to make up for being late, but I had more important things to do. Like Tony. Or vice versa as the case may be.
I’d stripped the moment I’d gotten home, tossing my clothes in the hamper. The mere anticipation of what I had planned ensured my cock stayed at least half-hard the entire time I was in the shower. It took all of my effort not to stroke it while I cleaned off and prepped myself for Tony.
It was even harder not to give in to the temptation of my aching erection when I’d grabbed the lube and started to fuck myself.