Pull Me Close: The Panic Series

by Sidney Halston

  “Really?” She looks at me, her eyes drifting down my body. “But you’re in great shape.”

  “Because I work out a lot to counteract my horrible eating habits.”

  “That’s terrible, Nico.” She gets up and goes to the kitchen to serve me a slice of cake.

  “I like that you call me Nico. No one calls me that.” She smiles at me. “So, how was your day?”

  “I’ve been walking out into the hall every day. My goal is to get out of this building in the next week. I realized after I missed the doctor’s appointment yesterday that I’ll never get better if I can’t even see him. It’s so frustrating.”

  “So how far did you make it?”

  “Almost to the end of the hall. But I’d been going all the way down the stairs, and I even went as far as your club. It’s as if I take one step forward and then I retreat and have to start all over again.”

  “Why do you stop? Can you tell me what you feel?” I ask, truly trying to comprehend. For me, I just take a step and then another and then I’m where I need to be. But obviously there is some sort of short-circuit between her brain and her feet. “I hope that doesn’t sound intrusive or insensitive. I just really want to understand.”

  “It feels like I’m being crushed. The weight of my fear makes me feel as if I can’t breathe. When it gets really bad, it feels like I’m dying. My heart starts to go a hundred miles an hour, I break out into a cold sweat, I get spots in my vision. Complete and total shutdown and loss of control over my body.”

  “Damn.”

  “But I’m trying really hard. I’m on medication and I’m doing video chats with a therapist. I need to go in person to meet my new therapist, though. That’s the most immediate goal.”

  “Baby steps.”

  “Exactly,” she says. “I just wish my baby steps were a little bigger.”

  “And me being here? It’s okay? You’re not, like, secretly dying to use the safe word, are you?” I reach for a lock of her hair, which is hanging all the way down almost to her lap, and twirl it around my fingers.

  “Truth?”

  “Always.”

  “I get a little worked up every now and again, but then you distract me with conversation and I calm down. It’s getting easier, though. It’s weird that I feel as comfortable with you as I do. I don’t normally feel like that with anyone.”

  “I’m glad, because I don’t think you could get rid of me that easily,” I say.

  She smiles and shakes her head as she says, “I don’t want to get rid of you. Not even a little. Even though I’m scared of that too.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I don’t want to frighten you off,” she admits. “I’m a lot to take in. Why would anyone want to deal with all my issues?”

  “I don’t scare easily. Besides, we all have issues.” I take her plate and put it down. We’re sitting on the couch, turned toward each other, our knees touching. Since I don’t know when or if we will be able to go on a real date, I’m treating this as such. “Close your eyes.”

  She does, without hesitation, and this pleases me immensely.

  “Let’s be somewhere else for a little while,” I say, and she smiles, her eyes shut tight. “We just finished dinner at the Rusty Hook. You had lobster and creamed spinach.” She crinkles her nose, and I chuckle. “Corn on the cob?” She nods, so I continue. “Okay, you had a steamed lobster tail with corn on the cob, and I had the surf and turf. We’re sitting outside, overlooking the bay, and the night is full of stars. There’s a rock cover band playing. It’s a great first date.”

  She smiles brightly, her eyes still closed. “We’re on a date?” she asks.

  “Yeah, why not?” I say. Taking my phone, I scroll through my playlist until I find “Just Breathe” by Pearl Jam. Then I stand and pull her up with me.

  Her eyes remain closed, so I continue my little game as Eddie Vedder sings about living through hurt and pain but still breathing and loving. “We dance a little in the hot, sticky night. People stare, especially the men. They wonder how I, with this caveman beard and long hair, snagged such a beautiful, sweet woman. I’m left wondering the same thing.”

  With the song playing in the background, in the middle of her small apartment, I wrap my arms around her waist and we dance slowly. I don’t know where all this is coming from. I’m not normally this guy. Romance? I’ve dated, taken girlfriends to nice places, but I’ve never considered myself romantic. Katherine rests her face on my chest and we sway back and forth, both of us lost in the moment. I can feel her heart against my chest and it’s beating calmly against my own. Ironic, usually you want your date’s heart beating rapidly—passion, excitement, lust. But everything about this is the opposite. I want her to be relaxed and calm. I want her to feel safe and in control. “Just breathe, corazón,” I say into her hair. “Because it’s really that simple.”

  Strangely enough, even though she’s tormented inside, she’s actually a balm to me. Her presence is calming, and when I’m with her I forget the million problems awaiting me at the club.

  When the song finishes she looks up at me. “That was the best date I’ve never had, Nico.”

  I chuckle. “We did have it. It was just a little different. But it was still perfect, don’t you think?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Are you the kind of girl that kisses on the first date, Katherine?”

  “I think we’re past that, don’t you?”

  “Couldn’t agree more.”

  Instead of going for her lips first, I pull her close, wrap my fist around her hair just the way I fantasized, and pull back, giving me complete access to her beautiful neck. Beginning at her collarbone, I kiss across and up to the little space behind her ear, earning me a little whimper. As I move up and nuzzle right under her ear, her hand clutches my biceps, so I keep going until I’m finally at her lips. Just like yesterday, she kisses me back fervently.

  We’re still standing, so I gently push her down onto the couch. “Do you do more than just kiss on a first date, sweet Katherine?” I ask as I lift her up and over my lap so that she’s straddling me.

  “Nico, I’m thirty-two years old. It’s been a helluva long time since I did anything physical with a man, but I’m not a twenty-year-old virgin. Don’t treat me like one,” she says, stroking my beard.

  I growl into her neck like a fucking animal because I like this side of her, even though I don’t particularly like the thought of her with other men. “You may have some experience, but I’m not going to let you take control, and we are not going to have sex tonight.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t want you to fuck me just because I’m here. If it were someone else here, would you fuck him?”

  She shakes her head, looking stunned. “No. It’s you. I want you.”

  “You don’t even know me that well. I like you, Katherine. If we have sex tonight, you’ll regret it in the morning, and I don’t want you to regret it. I want to get to know you. Right now you’re just horny.” She groans in frustration. “And I have to tell you something else that may be a turn-off for you, but I think I should be up front. I like sex a little rough and I like control.”

  She leans back a little to look at me. “What does that mean, exactly?”

  “Just that I like to dominate. Sometimes I like to use restraints. I like control. It turns me on. It’s just the way I like sex. Not all the time, but some of the time. And I don’t think you can handle that if you don’t trust me. But trusting me will take more than one date.” I snake my hand around her and pull her against me, and this time I kiss her in earnest. My tongue thrusts in her mouth, and she nibbles my lip. As she rubs herself against me, I slide my hand under her shirt, find the waistband of her leggings, and move my hand down.

  “You’re kind of scaring me, but you’re kind of turning me on too,” she says pantingly.

  “Just keep an open mind.” Her arms wrap around my neck and she’s plastered against me. I move my h
and lower and my fingers hover right by her pussy, waiting for her to stop me. I wonder if maybe she was just talking a big game and maybe, when it comes down to it, she’s not ready for this.

  Except, she doesn’t stop me. Instead, she kisses me harder.

  “I want my fingers inside you,” I say into her mouth.

  “I want them inside me too,” she says, and with that, I don’t hesitate. Just because I’ve taken sex off the table for tonight doesn’t mean I can’t make her feel good. I can feel how wet she is, and when I slide one finger in, she moans loudly. I slide a second finger inside, and she grabs my hair. Her eyes are shut tight, and she’s biting her lip as if she’s savoring the experience and taking what she needs from my fingers inside her. It’s a spectacularly erotic sight, and I want to make her come, to feel her tighten around me. I want to do all that, and then I want to taste her. My fingers thrust in and out of her as she pulls my head forward and starts kissing me again. She’s completely lost in lust and sensation.

  “When you’re ready and we do have sex…fuck, I don’t think I’ll last. You’re so fucking tight and gorgeous.” The way we’re positioned it’s hard to do all the things I want to do to her, but still I work my fingers as we kiss. I can feel her begin to tighten and I know she’s close. So close.

  “I’m going to tie you to that bed, sweet Katherine,” I whisper into her ear. “I’m going to spread your legs apart and I’m going to eat your pussy over and over again, and there’s nothing you’ll be able to do about it because you’ll be tied up and spread open for me. For my fucking pleasure, and nothing would give me more pleasure than to see you fall apart with my tongue inside your tight little cunt while you’re helpless to do anything about it.”

  With that she comes around my fingers with a long moan. I know that I’ll have half-moon marks on my shoulders where she clawed me.

  The first thing she says when she’s caught her breath is, “I hate the c-word.”

  “Made you explode.”

  “Pretty sure it was your magic fingers, not the word.”

  I chuckle into her neck.

  “So good,” she says as she relaxes against me. “It’s been a while.”

  My chin rests on top of her head as she cuddles into me. She’s warm and sweet, and I just felt her fall apart on me. I want to do so much more to her, but I know I have to take it slow. Even if she says she wants to, I think it’s too soon.

  She settles in even closer, and my arms tighten around her. My cock is rock hard, but I shut that shit down. This one was all for her.

  “Hey, Nico?”

  “Yeah, baby?”

  “I’m so glad we went on this date.”

  “So am I.” I kiss the top of her head. “So am I.”

  Eight

  Shortness of Breath

  Katherine

  I can’t believe Nico was here two days in a row and that last night we sort of had a date. A date in which he played the most beautiful and perfect song and danced with me in my living room. A date on which I let him give me the best orgasm of my life. In my defense, it had been way too long. Seven years, to be exact. So maybe it’s that fact alone that’s making me feel giddy and tingly this morning. We talked for three hours after that, and the two times I tried to touch him—to show him that I wanted to reciprocate—he gently shut me down. So I went with it and basked in the afterglow for as long as I could. At some point my eyelids started to droop, and he tucked me into bed. I wanted him to stay so badly, but he didn’t. He said staying would break his resolve—which I was 100 percent onboard with.

  This morning I have a video session with Dr. Cole, and I tell her about Nico. She says to be careful, because sex can sometimes be a coping mechanism, with the potential for turning into an addiction. But she also says that allowing Nico into my life is a good sign—definitely forward progress.

  Feeling determined, I decide I’m going to walk all the way down to the front door of my building. It takes me an hour to get down all five flights and to the door, but I’m able to do it, and I feel proud of myself. When I look through the glass door and see all the people on the sidewalk outside, I want to run back to my apartment. But I don’t. And that is actually what I’m most proud of. I walk calmly, taking breaths and reasoning with myself, all the way back up.

  I’m closing the door of my apartment when my cellphone dings. It’s Nico.

  Why isn’t there sunblock that doesn’t blind you when you sweat?

  I think there is, I text back. The one that says “sport” on it.

  A picture comes in of a tube of sunblock whose label says that it’s sweat-proof. Nico’s typed a comment under the photo: Bullshit. I laugh out loud.

  Then another picture comes in, and it’s of his face, a finger pointed at his reddened eye.

  Oh, wow, I type. It’s really irritated.

  I know! Happens every time. I feel like I’m going blind.

  I think you’ll live. Beach?

  Was in the ocean paddleboarding. Working off the pizza and homemade cake.

  I look through my window. It’s a beautiful day out, and I can’t help feel a twinge of envy.

  Nico’s texting again. You know how to swim?

  Yes. Even did a triathlon once.

  Damn.

  What are you going to do today? I ask.

  Might take your advice and go to the club. Talk to Matt.

  Good, I tell him.

  And you?

  I sigh and text back, Nothing as exciting as being blinded by sunblock…

  Haha.

  But since the day’s so beautiful, I think I’ll sit on my balcony for a while.

  Then I tell him, just because I want to share it with someone, I went all the way to the front door of the apartment building just now.

  Proud of you.

  My heart pounds and my smile is huge.

  Thanks. I’m kind of proud of me too.

  Hope you have a nice day today, sweet Katherine.

  Hope you have a nice day too…and that you don’t lose that eye.

  Nico

  It’s early in the day when I walk into Panic, so I know it’ll be empty. I don’t know what I’m expecting, but everything is just how I left it. I know Matt’s in because I saw his bike parked in the garage. Everything looks to be in order, and I’m about to pull up a sales report, but decide against it.

  When I get upstairs, Matt’s in his office, his feet on his desk, and he’s reading something. He looks relaxed, but I can see that he’s working. He and I are so different. Our posture, to begin with. I could be doing the same thing but I’d probably have both feet on the floor, my head bowed down, my shoulders slumped, and my brow creased.

  “Good weekend. Upsold Ketel One,” he says, looking at what I assume is the sales report. “Shrinkage low. Breakage a little high. I have to talk to the staff about this.” He finally puts the report down and looks up. I didn’t even think he knew I was in the room.

  “Glad to hear it.” I take the report and sit down across from him. He’s right, it was a hell of a weekend.

  “New DJ and new bartender did real well,” he adds.

  “Good. Good.” I’m still reading through the report, and damn—everything is as it should be. Maybe better. I finally put it down and look at my brother, who’s sitting right across from me. His feet are still up, his hands resting casually behind his neck, and he doesn’t look smug or stressed.

  “Thanks for taking care of things, Matt.”

  He puts his feet down and leans forward. “You don’t have to—”

  “I’m sorry. Force of habit. I know you’re an equal owner. I know I don’t have to thank you. Listen, I’m sorry, okay? You were right.”

  He waves me off. My brother doesn’t like to have deep conversations. For that matter, neither do I. “Ain’t even a thing,” he says. “You’re my brother. We’re cool. Always will be.” He reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “I want you to be happy, is all. You can’t be happy if you’re he
re twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Just asking you to share some of the weight and trust me.”

  “I know that you didn’t want to come back and run Panic.”

  “Neither did you, brother.”

  “No, but I made the decision before Dad got arrested. I was already here. You’re here because of the shit that went down, you were left unemployed and without a choice.”

  “I have choices, Nicky. If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be. So stop feeling like you need to take on all the weight, okay?”

  “Okay,” I say, because you know what? It feels good to be able to share the burden. To not feel as if I have to do it all by myself.

  “Good,” he says, and I know that is the end of this conversation. “So, how’s our little Katie doing?”

  “Katherine’s fine.” Although I don’t like him saying “our.” She’s mine, not ours. But I figure it’s best to keep this crazy little tantrum to myself.

  “I like her,” he tells me.

  When I involuntarily growl, he chuckles. “Relax there, tiger. I like her for you. I like that she makes you all crazy. It’s fun to watch.”

  “I like her too,” I admit, and my shoulders relax.

  “Good. I’m happy for you,” he says. His phone buzzes, and he takes it and starts typing into it.

  Having a twin is like having an extension of yourself. There’s never uncomfortable silence. There’s nothing he doesn’t know about me, or vice versa. It bothers me to argue with him, even if I want to pretend it doesn’t. It weighs heavily on me, and I can’t relax until I know that things are back to normal, which they seem to be now.

  I stand up and head out to get some inventory done. It’s what I normally do, and I want to get back to my routine, even though I will loosen the reins and let Matt take on more of the responsibility. “You did good, Matty.”

  He looks up from his phone and smiles, and right there I know that everything’s going to be okay.