Friends With The Monsters

by Albany Walker

  “Cell phone.” I snap my fingers and run up to my bedroom where I usually leave my phone. No one ever calls me. I use it mostly to play games.

  But I did give my number out last night to a certain hottie named Calix. I was so freaked out by the witch that I never even thought to look at my phone when I got home.

  I’m panting by the time I make it into my room. “Fuck, I need to exercise,” I mumble, and reach for my phone. The moment I pick it up, I see it has a shadowed box that says, “Missed Call” with a number listed.

  I hop up and down for a few seconds, before I tell myself to breathe and take a chill pill. I don’t want to come off too eager, nor do I want him mistaking my need for a good fuck for more than that. I examine my fingernails.

  If he’s good, maybe I could use him more than once. He definitely got me all hot and bothered. And that was just from talking and looking at him—well, mostly looking at him. There’s something to be said for instant attraction. I flip the phone over again. It’s unlocked now, and I can see the number two near the little green phone icon.

  A smile splits my face—he called me twice. I knew he wanted me just as badly. I touch the number listed in red and put the phone up to my ear. While it begins ringing, I turn to face the mirror. I pluck at my shirt, then the clock on the wall grabs my attention. I yank the phone away from my ear and hit the end button before smashing it against my forehead a few times. It’s four o’clock in the morning: too late for the night owls and too early for the early birds.

  I look back at the history to see that he called me around eight pm and then again at eleven pm. I toss the phone on the bed. I was probably still sleeping at eight, and downstairs at eleven.

  “Damn it. Well, that was a bust.”

  I bite my lip and wander over to my dresser. Snagging open the top drawer, I peer in to see all of my more adventurous toys. Buzz, my go-to favorite, is in my nightstand, but I’m thinking I need more than just a quick wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am.

  Just opening the drawer, and I’m already getting excited. I stand back and strip out of my shirt and yoga pants. My nipples are already hard, so I grab the little, pink, rubber nipple cups and pinch the tip until the suction grabs hold of my nipple and tugs pleasantly.

  I place the other on and flick the tip. The pulling sensation tightens as it bounces around. Running my fingers over my labia, I let my middle finger slide between my lips. My clitoris is already a little swollen. I flick the nipple cup again, thinking about having that suction right over my clit.

  I drag my hand up my stomach. If I get too excited, this isn’t going to last, and I need a few good orgasms this morning before I go to sleep.

  I move aside the black blindfold that came with one of the kits I bought. I’ve never trusted anyone enough to use it. Besides, it’s not like I ever bring anyone here, but the thought of Calix in my bed, with the blindfold over his eyes so he can’t see what I’m about to do to him…

  Yup, I want to keep that picture in my mind as I reach for my wand. Just as my fingers land on the pink tool, I have second thoughts. I do think I’ll use it, but not just yet. Instead, I grab a plain ole dildo. It’s soft and firm and has a big suction cup on the bottom which I can stick to the shower wall or the floor, so I can go to town on it. I toss the wand on the bed so I can make sure I end the night on a good note. A few minutes of that baby, and I’ll be three Os in and sleeping soundly minutes later.

  With every step, my breasts sway, and I can feel the tug on my nipples. I walk over to the window and take a quick look outside. I don’t think anyone is around, but fuck ‘em if they are. With my right hand, I slide two fingers into my pussy. I’m already a little wet, so they go in smoothly, but before I can get carried away, I pull my fingers out and glide them over the dildo. I open my legs far enough so I can push the dildo inside. I love how I’m not too wet yet, and I can feel every inch of it going in. With it held in place, I bend over so my ass is pointed right at the window and shove myself back. I groan at how much deeper it pushes in, and reach between my legs to make sure the section cup is adhered to the glass.

  Doing it like this ensures it’s at the perfect height every time. I spread my legs a little and lift myself off the dildo, working my hips just as I would if there were a man behind me. Bent over, the weight of my breasts makes the suction cups on my nipples feel even tighter. Without releasing the pressure, I jerk the cup off my left breast. It stings for a second then throbs with an ache that feels so damn good. I let that one smart for a bit, while I work myself against the dildo. I’m going to leave an ass print on the window, but I don’t care.

  When I feel like I’m too close to coming too soon, I push all the way back and don’t move. My body is screaming at me to tighten my inner muscles, but I don’t. I relax as much as I can and wait out the pressure of the orgasm. When I know one stroke isn’t going to send me over the edge, I start to move again. Ever so slowly, I build the tension back up until I’m about ready to explode.

  I tear off the other nipple cup and brush my palms over my breasts. The orgasm hits me hard and fast, and my legs want to crumple, but I keep my knees locked and ride out the pleasure for as long as I can.

  I’m panting when I pull free from the dildo. I turn to see it still bobbing up and down, and a little laugh escapes me. “Thank you for your services, sir.” I go to grab the shaft as I might if I were shaking a hand, but movement outside catches my eye. I see a small flicker of fluff as the lion’s tail disappears into the tree line.

  I crank open the window. “I hope you enjoyed the show!” I shout, not in the least bit concerned anyone else will hear me.

  A loud roar has me jerking back. “Holy shit, that was loud,” I mutter, then shout down, “Well, then, don’t go peeping into my house!” I close the pane quickly. “Jerk, it’s my window, and if I want to fuck it, I will!” I announce and look around. Spying the wand on the bed, I roll my eyes in irritation. Now I’m no longer in the mood for a couple of forced orgasms. “Jerk,” I mutter again.

  Chapter 11

  I set my alarm for seven, just in case Calix called, but it’s nearly eleven and I haven’t heard anything. I toy with the phone. Should I call him again or is it too late already? I look at the time on the top of the screen. “It’s now or never.”

  After hitting his number, which is now listed under his name, I bring the phone up to my ear.

  “Hello?” a man growls through the phone.

  “Uh, hello, is Calix there?” I slap my hand over my eyes. I haven’t really called anyone since high school. I should have said, ‘I would like to speak with Calix,’ or some shit.

  “Who is this?” the man barks at me.

  “Who is this?” I counter.

  “You called this number, girl,” he states.

  “And I’m looking for Calix—is he around or not?” I don’t much like the snarling man on the phone.

  “Hang on. Cal, one of your bitches is calling!” he shouts, not even bothering to take the phone away from his mouth.

  “I’m not just any bitch, you asshole, but if you yell in my ear again, this bitch is going to kick your ass!” I growl right back at him.

  A bark of laughter comes through the phone. “I like this one. When you’re done with her, send her my way. Here.” I hear some shifting sounds as the phone changes hands.

  “Hey.” Calix’s smooth voice comes through the line.

  I almost want to hang up. I’m a little pissed off at the asshole, and I’m used to being the one who gets tons of attention, with guys at my beck and call. I may not give them my number, but I don’t really need to. Walking through the club, I can usually have anyone I’m interested in.

  I don’t think I like the fact that Calix is the exact same way, which is unusual for me. Hell, I have no problem sharing the person in my bed—another man, another woman. It all works for me, but there’s something that bothers me when I think about that with Calix.

  “Hello?” he calls again.

&n
bsp; Shit, time to decide. “Hey, this is Dami. From the club.” I wince. I can’t believe I had to remind him of that, and I’m still talking to him.

  “Hey, hey. I’m so glad you called me back.” The background noise dies down a little.

  “Yeah, seems like we missed each other.” I flick my fingers over my leggings.

  “So, where are you? Are you going to Rumors tonight?” Calix asks.

  “Nah, I was there twice this week, that’s enough for me.” I don’t mention I’m avoiding the witches. Something about them and Theius’s reaction to them kind of freaked me out. “You?”

  “I would have if you were. Got any other plans, want to meet up?” Calix inquires, and I smile, feeling a little more confident. I guess I’m still not the only one who’s a little eager.

  “Your place?” I suggest, since I’m not sure I want him here. If he knows where I live, he could stop by anytime. And I’m just looking for a hookup, right?

  “I don’t really have my own place yet. I just got back into town a few nights ago. Yours?” he adds, sounding hopeful.

  “Well…” I hedge, biting my lip.

  “I’m not a serial killer,” Calix offers, like it might sweeten the deal.

  I chuckle. “Not really what I’m worried about.”

  “You got a man?” he questions boldly.

  “No, but if I did?” I counter.

  Calix doesn’t respond for a few seconds. I hear him breathing down the line, so I know he hasn’t hung up. “He could watch, but I’m not into men.”

  “Not a deal breaker then?” My voice goes a little soft. Few human men like to share with another man—a woman, sure, but not another man.

  “No, not for you,” Calix answers. “Plus, I don’t mind an audience.”

  “How do you feel about ghosts? My house is haunted.” It’s an untruth that isn’t really a lie. I came up with it years ago, in case I ever wanted to invite anyone over, but I never did. Still, it would explain the noises, and—hell’s bells—if he saw one of my visitors, I could convince him that it was just a run of the mill ghost. They even have TV shows about the damn things.

  Calix chuckles. “When should I come?”

  “As often as possible,” I reply without thinking.

  “Sounds like a plan. I’ll see you soon, bye.”

  “Wait!” I shout before he can hang up. “Don’t you need my address?”

  “Oh, yeah, sorry. I wasn’t thinking,” Calix drawls slowly.

  “I’m kind of out of the way,” I warn him.

  “Do you mind just texting it to me?” he asks, as I hear a door slam closed.

  “Sure, I can do that. To the same number?”

  “Yeah, this is my cell. Rocky doesn’t understand personal boundaries. He’s the one who answered before.”

  “If I ever run into a Rocky, I might punch him just in case it’s him.” I retain the unusual name for the future, because I’m totally not lying.

  “Don’t do that. He’ll just think it’s foreplay.” I can hear the smile in Calix’s voice as a loud engine purrs to life. “Text me the address, and I’ll see you soon,” he promises, and the line goes dead.

  “Eager beaver.” I look at the phone then hit the little ‘i’ next to Calix’s name, and different options for facetime and messaging pops up. I hesitate for just a second before pulling up the keypad and typing my address into the message. If he makes a pest of himself, I’ll scare his ass away.

  What’s the worst that could happen?

  Smoothing my hand over my hair, I look into the full-length mirror on my bedroom wall. After a quick shower, I put on a pair of yoga pants and a slouchy, boat-neck t-shirt that leaves my shoulder exposed. I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard, and we both know what he’s coming here for. Finally, I unpin my hair, letting it fall down my back. I didn’t bother washing it, so I wouldn’t have to deal with it being wet.

  Making my way downstairs, I turn on a few lights throughout the house. I usually don’t bother, preferring the candlelight, but that might be a bit much for Calix. I snicker a little, thinking it might help with the haunted house feel.

  Before curling up in the living room, I gather the universal remote that controls the TV and the surround sound. I click on the television, hoping to distract myself. I’m a little anxious; my friends stop by all the time, but this is the first time I’ve invited a man home with me.

  I tickle my fingers over my collarbones and chest. As nervous as I am, I’m also excited. It might be fun to sleep with someone more than once, okay, well, more than for one night, or day. I might actually get to try out that blindfold or some of my other toys.

  I look at the clock. It’s been about forty minutes since our call ended. I don’t know where Calix is coming from, but I probably should have asked him so I would have an idea of when he would get here.

  I force myself to focus on the TV instead of grabbing my phone to check if he has called. I know he hasn’t. After I missed his calls the other day, I made sure to turn my ringer on so it wouldn’t happen again.

  I hear the purr of a motor minutes later. I mute the television and send out my other senses. That same purity Calix exuded at the club washes over me. “It’s him,” I announce to no one, and unmute the TV.

  Standing, I run my hands over my hips, smoothing my shirt, as I make my way over to the front door. The click of the lock disengaging is loud since the sound of his engine died moments before.

  I leave the screen closed, but open the door and watch as Calix lifts his leg over a sleek, black motorcycle. I left the outdoor lights on so it wouldn’t be too dark for him, and it’s a good thing I did. I’m not sure the single headlight would have helped illuminate all the curves of my driveway.

  I take a moment to examine Calix while he lifts a helmet off his head and shakes out his hair. His dark jeans are fitted just right and cuffed at the bottom, where I can see a pair of heavy boots. The black leather jacket he’s wearing hides his shirt, but it makes a nice picture nonetheless.

  Calix pulls a small set of keys from the bike and shoves them into his coat pocket, then turns to stare up at the house. His eyes lift to the upper floors.

  “Hey,” I call, giving him a short wave from the front door.

  His eyes land on me and he gives me a slight smile in return. “Hey, you weren’t kidding about being out of the way. Do you even have any neighbors?” His steps eat up the distance between his bike and the front porch.

  I push open the screen, welcoming him inside. “Not for a few miles. You rethinking that whole serial killer thing?” I joke, stepping out of the way. “Come in.”

  Calix chuckles and lets out a low whistle once he gets a good look around my foyer. I glance around, too, imagining seeing it again for the first time. My old Victorian home was built in the late 1800’s by a man for his new bride. Everything about it says Old-World excess, and I love every inch. From my unvisited conservatory to my echoing ballroom, every room has been restored to its former glory. The woodwork alone took months to rejuvenate back to the gleaming state it’s in now, and that’s only thanks to the small crew of workers that come by twice a week to clean the house.

  Two things I hate: cooking and cleaning. I can’t eat, so why should I cook? And cleaning just sucks. I have enough money to pay someone else to do it for me.

  “You live here alone?” Calix is still holding on to his helmet, looking around.

  “Pretty much. Let me take that.” I reach forward, and he hands me the helmet. “Jacket?” I set the helmet on an ornate hall tree that has a large mirror and hat hooks, with a table and umbrella stand built right in. Both front corners are adorned with a large, wooden, lion head with its maw open wide, exposing fiercely sharp teeth.

  Calix runs his hand over a wooden lion’s mane, admiring it. Shaking his head, he unzips his jackets and loops it over one of the hooks next to the mirror. “This is amazing—the detail. I mean, I can’t believe this is carved out of wood.”

  �
�Thanks. This is Leo and that’s Savannah.” I point to the one closest to Calix.

  “But these are both males.” He tilts his head.

  “I know, but I didn’t want Leo to be lonely, so I just pretend.” I lean in a little closer, acting like the lions can hear me.

  Calix shakes his head a little. “That’s kind of adorable,” he comments, like I’ve shocked him a bit.

  It makes me uncomfortable, so I change the subject. “Do you want a drink?” I start walking toward the living room, which is really just one of the smaller parlors. I have a small bar set up in there, even though I don’t really drink.

  “Nah, I’m good.” Calix follows me. When I glance over my shoulder, he’s still looking around. “This place is huge. You ever get lost?”

  “Not anymore.” I throw myself into my overstuffed sofa.

  Calix spins around once, taking everything in before his eyes land on me. Finally! I was thinking I should have gone with the candlelight, then maybe the house wouldn’t be such a distraction.

  “Your home is almost as beautiful as you are.” Calix settles himself next to me on the sofa, draping his arm along the back and scooting close.

  “Thank you.” I preen under his compliment. I know I’m pretty, but it’s always good to hear, especially when a man is looking at you the way Calix is looking at me.

  I’m not sure what to do here. I’m used to frenzied hookups behind the club or in crappy apartments. Should I ask him if he wants to watch TV? Or just drag him up to my bedroom? Should I use my bedroom or one of the guestrooms?

  The light offers me the first really good look I’ve had at Calix. His eyes are a striking shade of hazel, and when he tilts his head, examining me, they almost look green. I can see the contrast of the darker tips of his hair layered through his choppy haircut. The back nearly reaches his nape, but the sides aren’t as long.

  I lick my lips, thinking about his full mouth. His lips are almost root-beer colored, a much darker shade than my own, as is his skin tone. Calix’s eyes track the movement of my tongue, and he licks his bottom lip in response.